Book Review — Be More Bonsai, Mark Akins

During my school days a magician visited our school and taught us the art of Origami. Creating lively shapes out of plain notebook papers, he inculcated in us the wisdom of there being beauty in every single object around us, whether we noticed it or not. It was during that session that I also got to learn the word 'Bonsai'. I was intrigued by the concept of diminutive trees and that fascination stayed on but more so the idea of there being beauty and wisdom in even the most 'mundane' of objects around us.

This single piece of wisdom made me relish even the most ordinary of sensory experiences - the tactile bliss of pencil sliding across paper, the touch of newborn child, the fragrance of Neem flowers on a hot summer afternoon, the sight of little dandelions on roadside shrubs, the distant song of a cuckoo, the racing of raindrops of glass panes and so much more. That made me scribble these words in my journal once - 'Would the world continue to feel the same way if our eyes and ears are really opened?'

This book is an answer to that question. What this book does is to take the great Japanese art of Bonsai and teach some of the simplest yet greatest truths of human lives. By the way, don't we all love the Japanese? They have a word for everything, even the most innate of our thoughts and emotions. But I digress.

Mark Akins comes across as a seasoned gardener and a Bonsai enthusiast. What he does in this book is to teach the basics of bonsai and draw parallels to our daily lives. By doing so, he repeats some of the time-tested wise words of self-improvement. This book dwells less on the art bonsai and more on self-improvement concepts. So, keep the expectations of your gardening enthusiast toned down before you pick this book.

A lot to contemplate and practise in your personal life, than in your garden. Liked the wisdom, but loved the book's idea of trying to find peace and purpose in even the seemingly simple task of tending to one's plants and trees. A good read, indeed.

Book Review - The Professional Companion, Subroto Bagchi

I had already read the much acclaimed work of Mr. Bagchi 'Go Kiss the World' before I picked up his book 'The Professional'. At a time when I was aspiring to rise up the corporate ladder, I found that book to be an useful guide, a silent mentor that helped me define and polish my professional behavior.

The book listed down various essential personal qualities that a professional ought to have, like ethics, integrity, self-awareness etc., along with the tools to help one perform one's day to day role to perfection. With many of those timeless concepts explained with easy to understand case studies, that book left a lasting impression on me, so much so that whenever I got a chance to gift my colleagues something, I presented them with that book.

Soon Mr. Bagchi followed up on his wonderful work with a 'companion', a workbook of sorts that elaborated on the principles contained within its predecessor. Each of the 25 chapters are chances to reflect on your own personal / professional mettle, assess your present and professional progress. If used in an honest, sincere manner, this 'workbook ' can be a really worthy tool to improve one's professional standing and personal growth.

It is not necessary that this 'companion' should be read only after 'The Professional', but understanding the core principles upon which this book is structured will make it all the more worthwhile. A worthy tool for any aspiring professional and also for those who have already 'arrived'. 4 stars!

Book Review – After the War, Wendy Doniger

When a decade ago, Wendy Doniger’s book ‘The Hindus’ got pulped, I was among those that raised voice in social media against it and some of my right-wing friends who supported the ban. I am not for all these talks of banning and making controversies about art, no matter how hideous, like those of Tracy Emin or ridiculous, as Maurizio Cattelan duct-taping a banana and selling it for millions of dollars. I am of the belief that the readers or art aficionados or film-enthusiasts are wise enough to discern and discard works that are unworthy. By creating needless controversy about arts and books, we only achieve a reverse effect, by making even ignorant bystanders curious about those exact arts and books we wanted to condemn to obscurity. As someone dear to me once told me, there is nothing called ‘negative publicity’ these days. But after reading this book, I am open to reconsidering my views, for I have never read such a mediocre translation from an ‘acclaimed’ author. 

Mahabharata and Ramayana are not just religious texts but guiding principles for Indians. Irrespective of their religion or caste, majority of Indians have at least a cursory knowledge of these great texts. Those who have read them have always been fortunate to imbibe some wisdom or the other and improve their lives. Indian literary scene is rich with works that translate and elucidate these texts in great length so that even non-scholars can enjoy them. That being the case, the author’s claim that last books (chapters) of the Mahabharata have been ‘neglected’, in her own words sounds naïve and condescending to say the least.

Her ignorance of the book’s cultural and religious importance as well as its standing as a beacon of moral principles is so glaring that most of her words sound ignorant and irreverent. Just to clarify that I am not a narrow-minded right winger and also to explain why I condemn this work, let me quote some glaring errors with my comments in box parantheses.

1.    Because Ambalika closed here eyes when she conceived her son, Vyasa cursed him to be born blind. [Anyone that has ever read the Mahabharata knows that Vyasa did not curse her or her son, but simply stated the condition].

2.     The Levirate (niyoga) is the law by which a brother (or, sometimes, any male in the family) begets legal children on behalf of his dead or impotent brother [Again, another half-baked, hasty equation of two cultural practices that though similar are not the same].

3.    Although there is no archaeological evidence that the city of Dvaraka never existed, from time to time someone tries to find traces of it in the waters off the west coast of India. [The antiquity of Dwaraka may be as questionable as that of the Shroud of Turin, but writing it off as the city never ever existed, is mere naivete].

4.    At the end of the year, Arjuna married Virata’s daughter Uttama, and eventually they had a son, Parikshit. [The most glaring and the most disgusting of all errors from this so-called scholar. Apart from misspelling Uttara’s name as ‘Uttama’ not once but twice, she also states that Arjuna married her, while any reader worth their salt know that it was not Arjuna but his son Abhimanyu that married Uttara and begot Parikshit. It is like saying Sarah was the mother of Abraham.]

5.    Yudhishthira performed a horse sacrifice to atone for the Pandavas’ destruction of their Kaurava cousins. [Even a child studying history in India knows that Ashwamedha Yagna or the ‘horse sacrifice’ is performed not to atone for anything but to establish one’s sovereignty over the surrounding nation-states. But it would be too much to expect such cultural understandings from this so-called scholar.]

Apart from all these glaring errors, her translation does not pass muster. Instead of translating the soul of the text, the author has contented herself with merely translating the words which does nothing to enhance the flow or the reading experience. Maybe this is what happens when people have zero understanding about the cultural context of anything but start considering themselves ‘experts’ and ‘scholars’ based on their limited understanding of few books.

By the time I finished the book, I regretted having bought two of her books together without having experienced her writing first. I also did remove a couple of other books that I had saved on my wish list.

Ignorant, irreverent, mediocre work from someone who sounds less like a scholar and more like an imbecile to me!

Book Review – White on Green, Richard Heller and Peter Oborne

The first time I had an introduction to Pakistan’s cricket team was when my childhood street cricket buddy told me that there is an Indian playing for Pakistan’s cricket team and his name was Ramesh Raja, an obvious misunderstanding about Ramiz Raja. He also told me about the ongoing talks to merge the cricket teams of Indian and Pakistan. I started eagerly watching whatever snippets of cricket I could of that country, mostly from Sharjah and started imitating the bowling actions of greats like Waqar (Younis) and Wasim (Akram), being an ambidextrous player myself. Imagine the batting might of Sachin and Kambli combined with the bowling prowess of those two Ws!

 

But then I grew up and reality dawned. I became aware of the deep hostility prevailing between the two nations and our history. Forget about uniting the teams, they were not even allowed to meet on the field sans unnecessary drama. But my fascination for their bowlers stayed on and I continued trying to imitate their bowling actions.

As the reader in me matured I became interested in learning the history of the world, mainly about our neighbours. Having understood their political history and their policy of fostering hatred as modus vivendi, I moved on to the other aspects like music and religious senses. With religion and music being some other aspects that fascinated me, an understanding of their cricketing history remained elusive for a long time. This book has fulfilled that desire now.

This is not the most elaborate history of cricket in Pakistan, but this is for sure an interesting insight into their many cricketing icons. Like their religion and art, Pakistan’s cricket also owes a lot to India, with many of their early iconic players hailing from India and having moved their during the tragedy of Partition. Starting with Prince Aslam Khan, who was a prince for real and who held on to his cavalier lifestyle both on and off the field and ending with the contemporary greats of Misbah and Younis Khan, the book covers a wide array of personalities that enthralled the crowds and global media both on and off the field. You get to learn how the sport grew in that country and united or divided people. One also gets a sad diminishing of worthy infrastructure and opportunities that once churned out prodigies every now and then. The use of cricket as a pawn in geo-politics as well as the exile of Pakistan from global cricket due to a heinous terror attack have also been well elucidated.

 There are some issues with the book though. Considering the book was written in 2016 I cannot understand omission of greats like Imran Khan or the bowling duo of Waqar or Wasim, people who helped Pakistan shine for many years. Also, I don’t understand the bitterness of the authors whenever they make a reference to India, either in terms of politics or cricket in some places. Considering both the authors are Britishers I can’t mark it as anything other than opportunistic writing catering to the gallery of Pakistan audience.

One thing is for sure. The book is interesting and informative. It once again reaffirms my belief, that despite being divided by language, religion and politics, we are, after all, deep down ordinary humans, sharing the same set of beliefs, hopes, fears and dreams. A nice read if you can keep away your prejudice, unlike the authors and their subjects!

(c) Ashok Krishna

Happy New Year 2024!

As the first Sun of 2024 went back home, I was busy preparing my new diary and journal, packing off the old ones to their crammed space inside the ageing carton. While planning for the days ahead with optimism, a part of my mind also started reminiscing about 2023 that is so near and yet so far. The year had been a mixed bag for me – like every other year had ever been – but overall, it was a year I could recall for more positive reasons than anything else.

 

Looking back, I have quite a few things to be thankful for about the bygone year. My family members - near and far – and friends facing serious health challenges but emerging unscathed, friends struggling with their careers but ending up in better places for all their struggles, some close ones losing their family members to illnesses but showing tremendous dignity and emotional strength in overcoming their pains, accolades at work and occasional personal achievements, growing bonds with some old friends, lessons in letting go the dead horses,  arrival of a beautiful friendship – the year had been one where I had my own fair share of great and not so good things. But sifting through these events and experiences, I could sense one emotion standing tall amidst them all – Love.

 

Whether it is in caring for loved ones that were sick or in sharing the anxiety of friends facing career challenges, whether it was sharing the pain of loved ones suffering losses or being lucky enough to see close friends succeed big, whether it is in strengthening old bonds or in letting go the dysfunctional ones with dignity - the affection, the kindness, and the deep love that I was able to share and feel in 2023 is what makes it special. After all, it is Love that makes anything and everything special, isn’t it?!

 

So, here is my customary wish to you and yours on the first day of this new sojourn around the Sun – may 2024 be one of the best years of your life. By all means, please strive for more and achieve all your goals – personal and professional. Become healthier, wealthier and happier. Attain all your career goals and be happy with your families. But do it all with a deep-seated kindness in your hearts. Smile more at strangers. Treat one another with kindness and respect. Renew your sagging relationships. Share more words of affection with loved ones. Hug and kiss your near and dear ones every chance you get. Tell them how much their presence means to you. You never know whom you end up helping, or even healing. May your kind smiles be the footprints that you leave in the hearts of everyone that you come across this year. Take care. 

 

Happy New Year 2024!

 

AK

Sea's Alchemy

I sometimes think that there can be no greater alchemist in the world than my beloved sea. She takes the sunlight at dawn and converts it into copper but when she uses the same rays by midday, she is able to produce gold. At night, when the same sun's rays bounce off the ball-like moon, she hammers out sheets of silver. Isn't she such a magician?! 😃 💓

We Will All Be Just Memories!

There is this friendly, elderly server working in a restaurant near my office. I couldn't see him last week when I went for my usual bite. I didn't give it much thought, assuming it might have been a day off for him.

When I visited the restaurant for breakfast today, I saw him back at work. He was looking quite dishevelled and desolate. I smiled at him as usual and enquired about his health, as I thought that he was not keeping well. He looked back at me with lifeless eyes and told in his typical hurried style that his wife had passed away ten days ago. I was about to pull out a chair to sit, but felt stunned and stood there, staring at his face, unsure of what I should say. I made the usual enquiry about her age and health issues. He simply told me that she was 62 and was not known to have any health issues till the last moment. All that she felt was a sense of breathlessness for the last five minutes before it all ended forever.

Not wanting to probe him further and thus causing him relive the pain of separation, I ordered my food and sat there in silence throughout my breakfast. When I paid the bill and gave him the usual tip of Rs. 10, I felt a tinge of pain and a little silly for assuming that a single printed currency note will make him feel better today. Not having the courage to look at his lifeless eyes I walked back to work surrounded by a sense of glum.

Five minutes was all it took for him to lose his companion of many decades forever. Reams have been written about the uncertainty of life, but now that I am slowly moving towards middle age myself, having crossed the impregnable enthusiasm of youth, every such loss around makes me dwell deeper and deeper at the bonds around. Five minutes is all that they had to say goodbye, to relive the companionship of 40+ years, to apologize for those hurts caused knowingly and unknowingly, to say how much they loved one another, to share the gratitude for a life of togetherness. Five damn minutes that we all waste away buried in our gadgets and meaningless pursuits, behaving as if we have eons of life stretching ahead of us.

Wake up, people! Greet your parents. Hug your spouse. Kiss your children. Celebrate your friendships. Be grateful to all the people that matter to you. Convey your affection every time you get a chance. Our clocks are all ticking and the needles can stop anytime. Let's make sure that we make each moment count. Take care!

 

A.

To Be (Sensitive) or Not To Be (Sensitive)?!

These days, I increasingly think about all those people from my formative years, who used to advise me to be not so sensitive. Paying heed to their advice could have saved me from lot of heartburn, betrayals, pains and sad phases. Being able to perceive what people have in their mind, without even being told, is a curse one could have avoided by developing a thick skin.

On the other hand, by becoming insensitive, I could have lost the blessings of being able to relish the little joys of life. The tenderness of early morning Sun, the serenity of late night Moon, the joy of witnessing a seed sprout, the boundless love in the eyes of pet canine, the relish of soul-soothing strains of music, the tactile bliss of feeling a pencil tip caress the surface of paper, the soulful smile on the face of a beloved one, the tender touch of a child, the ability to love without ever being in need of any reciprocation or consummation, the protective blessings of a parent's embrace - would they have become lost forever for me, a 'collateral damage', if I had developed thick skin in order to protect my heart?

Would I ever know?!  ❤️

 

 - A.

Happy New Year 2023!

Yesterday, just as I was packing up my diary and journals of 2022, a strange thought crossed my mind. What is all this excitement of New Year’s Eve about? What are we actually celebrating on 01st January? How and why are we celebrating the beginning of a new year without even knowing what’s in store? Or, are we celebrating our having gotten rid of another year, with all its twists and turns, thrills and travails? In fact, even when we celebrate our birthdays, do we celebrate our getting older and moving one step towards the final destination? Or, do we celebrate our still being alive and getting another chance of life, no matter how uncertain? Just as I was mulling the last question, the penny dropped.

We humans, despite how psychologists and writers portray us to be, are optimists by nature. Marching on to the beat of a deeply inscribed desire for survival, we always keep finding opportunities to get better and evolve. This urge is what helped nations ravaged by wars and plagues to rebuild themselves and emerge stronger out of their ashes. This urge is what keeps the seemingly weak organisms thrive despite the ever-looming danger of predators and bigger threats.

All these little milestones of new years and birthdays are nothing but microcosmic expressions of that Universal urge to evolve and keep going. This urge, this sensing of opportunity is what fills gyms on the first weeks of the new year. This is why people sound more optimistic and energetic than at any other time of the year. This is what makes us all set lofty goals, make sparkling plans and dream colorful dreams for the year ahead. Just as I felt that, I also sensed the overall sentiment in the air around this time – a sense of opportunity.

The year 2022 was one of hope. Having been caged in for two years by the pandemic, the whole of humanity rushed forward in 2022. We all hoped for a better year in 2022 and at least for most of us, it turned out to be better than the previous few years. Now, this 2023 may be the time, we all put our feet firmly and grab our opportunities - of not mere materialistic nature, but of a superior kind. With the pandemic showing signs of finally being controlled, can we grab the opportunities of Life this year?

The opportunity to love, to exist in peace, to better ourselves, to improve as a whole as mankind, is up for grabs. Can we make use of that opportunity? Hate is ruining the world. Materialism and consumerism are threatening our long-term survival. Spirituality is slowly vanishing, supplanted by self-aggrandizing interpretations of eternal truths. Human ties are either loose or vanishing altogether. Will we find the opportunity to bond better with our fellow humans this year? Will we make better use of this shining opportunity called 2023? Knowing the human spirit, which has the knack of raising above itself when an opportunity beckons, I am hopeful we will. 

So, here’s hoping you and yours have a pleasantly memorable 2023. May this be the year where you fulfil not just your desires but also your destiny. May this be the year that we all grab the opportunity to be the better versions of ourselves – healthier, kinder, calmer, more sensible and more divine!

Happy New Year 2023!

Happy Diwali!

In childhood, when our duties during Diwali were just about wearing new clothes, munching snacks, bursting crackers with neighbour kids or cousins, and simply behaving ourselves, I used to wish we could celebrate Diwali every other month, if not every other week. Now that I have become an adult, ‘enjoying’ all the responsibilities that accompany that tag, I have started to understand what a festival celebration entails. Right from cleaning the house to decorating it, going for shopping to preparing the logistics, making travel arrangements to receiving guests, and assisting spouse with last minute requirements, preparing for a festival is simply a Herculean task!

 

However, every now and then, amidst all the fatigue caused by all the endless running around, I get a pinch of happiness and hope. Aren’t all these festivals, all their rituals and rigorous preparations aside, a chance to break the tedium of our daily lives?! Apart from the change of clothes, aren’t we blessed with a change of moods as well? We start the day with an unusual enthusiasm, no matter how fleeting that may be. We focus on the good side of everything – the taste of food, the décor of the home, phone calls and messages from friends and acquaintances, a sense of euphoria pervades all through our days. We reach out to people with whom we haven’t even had a text message exchange throughout the year to wish them well on the auspicious day. We send and receive positive vibes throughout the day. We lift our heads out of the smart-gadget sands and look at the world around. We eat together. We sit and chat together. We greet neighbours, colleagues, relatives and acquaintances with a rare sense of sincerity.

 

While all that altruism and sense of celebration is difficult to carry all through the other, routine days, why can’t we cling on to that sense of camaraderie and goodwill that festivals like Diwali entail? Why can’t we simply treat one another with respect and that little touch of affection on all through the other days as well? In a world that is becoming increasingly bitter and insensitive to the wonderful gift of life, imagine what even a little effort to bring in that festive positivity to our daily lives can do!

 

With that thought, I belatedly wish you and all yours a wonderful festival of Diwali! May all your days ahead be filled with the warmth, love and euphoria that you felt today. Take care, dear all.

 

Happy Diwali!

Book Review – India and Asian Geopolitics, Shivshankar Menon

From being a leading proponent of the Non-Aligned Movement and safely sailing the choppy waters of the volatile Cold War years, to being criticized as meddling in the internal politics of America, when the current Indian prime minister was seen pitching for an US president vying for a second term, India has come a long way since 1947. How did this change occur? How did India, following a painfully cautious approach in her dealings with foreign powers in Her nascent days as a nation state, evolve into a force reckon with? I have always been curious about that. This book has answered at least most part of that question, in an interesting, at times repetitive way.

First, the positives. The author, Shivshankar Menon, has the credentials to begin with. Having been the foreign secretary and national security advisor to the prime minister, he has had a ringside view of the geopolitical games. He was also a part of the team that convinced the Nuclear Suppliers Group to supply nuclear material. So, when someone like that writes a book, credibility is assured.

Also, the author makes it easy for us to understand India’s geopolitical past by breaking it into decades, starting from the days when India achieved independence from British colonialists. That breaking down of the entire past into manageable chunks of decades makes it easy for us to follow the narrative and understand the causes and effects. Being a professor must have come in handy for him to understand how to drive home a point, even one as intricate as global politics. His simple writing style coupled with his unbiased analysis of the policies of the Founding Fathers and the impact of their decisions make for good reading.

Now for the negatives, the book has some unforgiveable printing mistakes, as many of the pages containing the maps are left blank. With many other customers having left similar complaints on Amazon’s book page, this doesn’t seem to be a one-off instance, which is very bad on the part of the publishers. Two, for a book of this volume the font size is pretty small, making for strenuous reading. When it comes to the content, the author starts sounding a tad too repetitive in the second part. His obsession with China is a little tiring too. I was looking to read more about India’s tackling the  threat from Pakistan, but the author would rather talk about China, which is understandably a larger threat to India.

The final part, where the author discusses India’s current geopolitical stance is bound to offend some people, especially my friends from right wing. But within these pages are some hard-hitting, bitter facts. Think for yourself! From being a major force that guided nations like Sri Lanka and Nepal through their political crises, brought into existence Bangladesh through a swift war, India is now straining to keep her ties intact with these countries. All this while China has already started meddling in their internal politics and defining their future, as is obvious in countries Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Nepal. Even the faraway African countries are feeling the reach of China’s tentacles through BRI initiative and ‘string of pearl’ port constructions. Blaming it on the divisive politics of the incumbent government and showmanship that has little to show in terms of performance, the author finishes the book with a clear warning of the tough days ahead for India, if she chooses to ignore the highly volatile external developments, dividing the country based on an over-hyped halcyon past.

Right or wrong, India had an aura of neutrality in the past, having stayed as far from the power games of bipolar world as possible. That is why she could adapt without much difficulty to the post-Cold War world, when a more considerate USSR disintegrated. But the growth of ultranationalist forces within, that view even external relationships in terms of binaries of with us or against us – effects of association with the US, no doubt – leave India walking on thin ice on many fronts. The most glaring example is the current conflict between Ukraine and Russia, where by virtue of closer association, US is forcing India to condemn Russia on international forums but the enduring age-old ties and growing concerns on the immediate neighborhood force India to be more restrained on her views of the conflict. Result? India is being seen as an uncooperative partner by many in the West.

Not that the views of the hypocritical west matters, but an India that is trying to become the ‘Vishwaguru’, a force to reckon with not just in Asia but across the world, that surpassed some of the major western powers in economic growth, has to firmly make a stance on what she’s going to be – a compliant ally playing second fiddle to the tunes of major powers from West or blaze a path that is truly worthy of emulation by all, in terms of politics, unity, economic growth and overall well-being of her citizens. As Abe Lincoln once told, ‘a house divided against itself cannot stand’ and an India, trying to amplify the sins and glories of a distant past, cannot withstand the political whirlwind that is brewing in her immediate neighborhood. The author finishes the book with hopeful words of how a united India, with all her citizens marching together, holding high her flag of pluralism, can regain primacy on all fronts – domestic or international. And, I finished it with hopes too.

4.5 stars!

Love is All There is!

 

 

 

Well, I have never been good at what people call ‘praying’. My religious affinity is questionable. My faith fickle. My belief in gods is, at best, flimsy. But, for all these attributes I am not someone whom you can call an ‘atheist’. I perform religious rituals, visit temples and chant religious mantras. I can recite from memory some of the Vedic mantras and lengthy shlokas. But even while I utter these mantras and shlokas, there remains a nagging question at the back of my mind – ‘is there someone listening to me at the other end?’

This is even more so when I visit the temples. During childhood, my parents taught me to hold my tiny palms together in the direction of the presiding deity, close my eyes and pray for the wellbeing of everyone around, that of the family members in particular. I religiously (pun intended) obeyed my parents and continued that charade for a long time. But, after I became a grownup and went through all those crises of faith, the sincerity with which I held my hands together started to waver.

I still visited temples, eagerly glanced at all the architectural marvels there, looked at the idol of presiding deity with interest, but somewhere, somehow that sincerity of the childhood was lost. I started doubting the presence of ‘someone’ at the other end to listen to all my blabbering. The act of praying / begging for things like good education, wisdom, job, health, family welfare, etc., started to feel like a foolish thing to do.

As I am growing older, the sincerity of my prayers is becoming as good as the sincerity of the Indian monsoons – never there when needed, in abundance when no one asked for. I pray with utmost sincerity to be in time for the office, for India to win sporting events, for my wife to like the dish I prepared, and for all such ‘very important’ aspects of life. But when it comes to praying for an ailing relative or other such crucial moments in life, I don’t find any strength in or need for my prayers. I decide that praying to a god will be of no use now, since it is all out of our hands. Well, that’s the sound of Irony dying by laughter!

But all that changed during my recent visit to a temple. As usual, I folded my hands, let out my usual prayer and looked at the idols of the presiding deities – Radha and Krishna. I have always been an admirer of their love story and even imagined finding such love in my life. Well, ignoring that naivety, the beauty of the idols touched a deep chord within me this time. I have stood in front of these idols many times previously too, but there was something charming in Radha’s face this time. As I stood wondering what it could be, I got the answer out of the blue – it’s the glow of Love.

Myriad works of literature and art, million stories told in the form of books, poetry, movies have all taught us to worship Love. Love is considered more important than even one’s life. We have been taught to worship the beloved. When the beloved is gone, one is expected to pine and whine. The Beloved is put on a pedestal. Saints pulled their hairs, scratched their faces, tore their clothes and shed copious tears when they couldn’t see their beloved god. Modern Romeos do all that and more when their Juliets go away – for a while or forever. Shah Jahan built a marble marvel for his absent beloved. Kalidasa composed an equally marvelous ‘Meghaduta’ to record the yearnings of a Yaksha for his far away beloved. People kill for love (!), people die in the name of love. All due to the belief that the Beloved is the ultimatum. The loved one is considered sacred, pure, beautiful in all her – or, his, for that matter - forms and behaviors. The beloved could do nothing wrong. The beloved is all there is, the beloved is one’s purpose, lending meaning to one’s life, one’s very existence. Attaining the beloved is all that matters!

But, hold on a minute! What does the lover do? Is s/he not important? Like Sabari in Ramayana, like those Gopis in Bhagavatha, is the lover there only to love and add charm to the Beloved? This was exactly the question I felt while I watched that glowing face of Radha Rani!!! There she stood, beauty personified, in great poise, defying all that I had ever thought about love. What good is the beloved if there is no lover?! What good are the flowers for, if there are no bees to pamper them? Who would have known Noor Jahan if there was no Shah Jahan to love and build for her a majestic mausoleum? What would have been the need for Meghaduta, if the Yaksha’s love for his wife didn’t flow through Kalidasa? Who would have slayed Ravan, if Sita’s love didn’t pull Rama to Lanka? Would La Gioconda have become the eternal ‘Mona Lisa’ if not for da Vinci’s love for his art and the subject? And, where would Krishna be, if not for Radha’s love, that hung like a halo above his head and brought Him closer to the masses?!

To those nuts who might take offence over my words on Krishna, just imagine – He performed many miracles, slayed many demons, married many women, gave us the Gita and was the ultimate Godhead on earth. He was a dutiful son, loving brother, sincere father, loyal husband and a just king. But, despite all that, He is still remembered and worshipped, first and foremost, as the beloved of Radha – ‘Radhe Krishna’. If not for Radha’s love, wouldn’t He have been another god in front of whom people folded hands and offered flowers, but never felt a closeness in their hearts?! Radha’s love brought him closer not just to her, but to the masses. Her love made him sing with his flute, pine for their rendezvous and dance the glorious Ras. She made us, ordinary humans, realize the power of love - power that bounded a god to her bosom!  

The beloved is always considered more important than the lover. But it is the lover that lends meaning and beauty to the beloved. If there is no lover, if there is no love, then there can be no beloved, no matter how great, no matter how glorious.

Paeans are sung for the Moon, poems written and paintings try to capture its coolness, always seen as akin to the Beloved. But it is the Sun that lends the Moon all her charm. Without his love, his light, all Moon’s fame will be naught. After all She is just that - a reflection of that dazzling light from the Sun. Just the way the beauty of the Beloved is in the presence of a Lover!

A.

Book Review - Aram, Jayamohan

 

 

ஒவ்வொரு முறை சொந்த ஊருக்குப் போகும்போதும், அதிகாலை இருள் நேரத்தில் ரயில்வண்டி ஊரை நெருங்க நெருங்க மனதில் இனம் புரியாத ஒரு உற்சாகமும், மகிழ்ச்சியும் ஏற்படும். அதுவும் ரயில் நிலையத்துக்குள் வண்டி நுழையும்போது  ஊர்ப்பெயர் தாங்கி நிற்கும் அந்த மஞ்சள் நிறப் பெயர்ப்பலகையை கண்டதும் ஏதோ குழந்தைப் பருவத்துக்கே திரும்பியது போல் ஒரு நிம்மதி தோன்றும். வீட்டை விட்டு வேலைக்காக வெளியூர்களில் தங்கத்தொடங்கி கிட்டத்தட்ட இருபது வருடங்கள் ஆகியும் இன்றும் ஊருக்குச் செல்லும்போதெல்லாம் இந்த அனுபவம் மட்டும் மாறுவதில்லை. நானும் பலமுறை யோசித்ததுண்டு - எத்தனையோ ஊர்கள் சுற்றி வந்தும் வசதிகளும் வட்டமும் குறைந்த இந்த ஊரின் மீது ஏன் இப்படி ஒரு பிடிப்பு, ஒரு ஒட்டு என்று. என் தாய் தந்தையர் இன்னும் இங்கே வாழ்ந்து வருவதாலா? நான் சிறு வயது முதலே பிறந்து வளர்ந்து வாழ்ந்த ஊர் என்பதாலா? கல்வியும் நட்பும் காதலும் காமமும் ஆகிய எனது எல்லா உணர்வுகளும் முதலில் வேரோடி வளர இடம் தந்த நாற்றங்கால் என்பதாலா? இன்னும் இந்த ஊரில் 'இது என் சொந்த ஊர்' என்று ஒரு ஒட்டுறவு ஏற்பட என்ன காரணம்? நான் பயின்ற பள்ளி, வணங்கிய கோவில், அப்பா கை பிடித்து ஞாயிறு தோறும் சென்ற சந்தை, நண்பர்களோடு ஓடி விளையாடிய மைதானம், காதலியின் கையை முதலில் பற்றிய தெருமுனை, அம்மாவுக்கு முதலில் சொந்தக் காசில் பட்டுப்புடவை வாங்கித்தந்த கடை, பரிச்சயமான அன்னியர்கள் - இது மட்டுமா காரணம் அல்லது இன்னும் ஏதேனுமா என்றெல்லாம் மனம் யோசிக்க ஆரம்பிக்கும்.      

 

தமிழில் புத்தகம் வாசிப்பதும் கூட அப்படி ஒரு அனுபவம் தான். பிற மொழிகளில் கவிதை முதல் கணிதம் வரை, அறிவியல் முதல் ஆதி மனிதம் வரை எல்லாமே படிக்க ஆரம்பித்திருந்தாலும், தமிழில் ஒரு புத்தகம் வாசிப்பது ஒரு தனியான  சுகம். என்னதான் ஐந்து நட்சத்திர விடுதிகளில் அறுசுவையில் உண்டு பஞ்சு மெத்தையில் படுத்தாலும், வீட்டுக்கு வந்து அம்மா சமைத்த ரசம் சாதமும் உருளைக்கிழங்கு வறுவலும்  சாப்பிட்டு தன் அறையில் தரையில் வெறும் பாய் போட்டுத்தூங்கும் அந்த சோம்பல் நிறைந்த சுகத்துக்கு எது ஈடு? அது போல ஒரு அமைதி கலந்த சொகுசு உணர்வு தமிழில் புத்தகம் படிக்கும் போது எப்போதுமே வருவதுண்டு. அதற்காக நான் ஏதோ பெரிய தமிழ் இலக்கிய ஆர்வலன் என்று நீங்கள் எண்ணிக்கொள்ள வேண்டாம்.

 

நான் முதலில் தமிழில் முழுமையாகப் படித்த புத்தகம் என்றால் அது கல்கியின் 'பொன்னியின் செல்வன்' தான். பத்தாம் வகுப்பு முடித்து கோடை விடுமுறையில் பொழுது போகாமல் புலம்பிக்கொண்டிருந்த சமயத்தில் என் அப்பா என் கைகளில் அந்த முதல் பாகத்தைக் கொடுத்து படிக்க சொன்னதன் விளைவு, அடுத்த ஓரிரு நாட்களில் அந்த முழுத் தொகுதியையும் படித்து முடித்திருந்தேன். கல்கியின் கற்பனை கலந்த வரலாற்றுப் புதினங்களுக்குப் பெரிய விசிறியும் ஆனேன். கல்கியைத் தவிர வேறு எழுத்தாளரும், பாரதி போல் வேறு ஒரு கவிஞரும் இருக்க வாய்ப்பே இல்லை என்று ஒரு குறுகிய வட்டத்துக்குள் அடங்கிப் போனேன். வழக்கம் போல் என் அப்பா தான் இப்போதும் என்னை வேறு திசைக்குள் திருப்பினார். சற்றே வாழ்க்கை புரிய ஆரம்பித்த தருணத்தில், அவர் சொன்னபடி ஜெயகாந்தன் கதைகளை படிக்க ஆரம்பித்தேன். ஊமை ராணியையும், கண்ணம்மாவையும் தாண்டி, எதிரில்  நிற்கும் நடக்கும் என் போன்ற சாதாரணர்கள், அவர்கள் வாழ்வில்  ஏற்படும் இன்பதுன்பங்கள், இன்னல் இடையூறுகள், சின்னச்சின்ன வெற்றிகள், வெறுமைகள் இது எல்லாவற்றையும் பிடரியில் அறைந்தாற்போல்  ஜெயகாந்தனின் எழுத்துக்கள் என்னுள் பதித்துச் சென்றன. சற்றுமுன் சொன்ன பரிச்சயமான அன்னியர்கள் அனைவரையும் நிறுத்தி 'உங்கள் கதை என்ன? உங்கள் வாழ்க்கை ஒழுங்காக செல்கிறதா? நீங்கள் நலமா?' என்றெல்லாம் கேட்டு அளவளாவ விரும்பும் அளவுக்கு, சக மனிதர்களின், சாதாரணமானவர்களின் நிலையை கண் கொண்டு நிறுத்தியது ஜெயகாந்தனின் எழுத்துக்கள் தான்.

 

பின் ஜானகிராமன், நா. பார்த்தசாரதி, சுஜாதா, பாக்கியம் ராமசாமி என்றெல்லாம் படிக்கத்தொடங்கிய போதும் சமகால தமிழ் எழுத்தாளர்களோடு பெரிய பரிச்சயம் ஏற்படவில்லை. கதைகளையும் கவிதைகளையும் தாண்டி நான் அறிவைத் தேடி படிக்க ஆரம்பித்திருந்தது ஒரு காரணமென்றால் எனக்கு தமிழ் இலக்கிய அறிமுகம் செய்து வைத்த ஏன் அப்பா வயது மற்றும் வாழ்க்கை காரணமாக படிப்பதைக் குறைத்துக் கொண்டிருந்ததும் ஒரு காரணம். அவ்வப்போது சில தமிழ் எழுத்தாளர்களைப் பற்றி பேச்சுவாக்கில் கேட்டாலும் அதிக முக்கியத்துவம் கொடுத்ததில்லை. காரணம் அவை பெரும்பாலும் கற்பனை எழுத்துக்கள் பற்றியவை. அப்படி நான் ஒரு முறை கேள்விப்பட்ட பெயர் தான் 'ஜெயமோகன்'. அப்போது அவரின் 'விஷ்ணுபுரம்' நாவலை பற்றி எங்கும் ஒரு பேச்சு இருந்தது. அதுவும் அதில் இருந்த ஏதோ பிரச்சினைக்குரிய கருத்துக்கள் காரணம் என்று சொல்லப்பட்டதால் நான் அது பற்றி அதிக ஆர்வம் காட்டவில்லை. ஆனால்  ஓரிரு வருடங்களுக்கு முன், ஒரு இலக்கியக் கூட்டத்தில் என்னை ஒரு நண்பர் பேச அழைத்திருந்தார். பேசிய மூன்று பேரில் நான் மட்டும் தி.ஜானகிராமன் பற்றிப் பேச, மீதி இருவரும் - இரண்டு பேருமே பெண்கள் - சமகால எழுத்தர்களைப் பற்றி பேசி முடித்தார்கள். அதில் ஒரு பெண் பேசியது ஜெயமோகனின் 'அறம்' புத்தகத்தில் வந்த 'சோற்றுக்கணக்கு' என்ற கதையைப்பற்றி. அந்தக் கதை  பற்றி வேறு ஒரு சில நண்பர்களும் பின்னாட்களில் பேசக்கேட்ட பின் அந்த வருடம் வந்த என் தந்தையின் பிறந்த நாளுக்கு 'அறம்' புத்தகத்தையே பரிசாக அளித்தேன். நீண்ட காலமாய் அப்பாவின் அலமாரியில் இருந்த அந்த புத்தகம் சமீபத்தில் ஊருக்குச் சென்றபோது கண்களில் தென்பட, பொழுதுபோக்காய் ஓரிரு பக்கம் படிக்கத்தொடங்கி இன்று படித்தும் முடித்தாகிவிட்டது.

 

இது பன்னிரண்டு மனிதர்களின் கதை. உண்மை மனிதர்களின் கதை. சற்றுமுன் சொன்னேனில்லையா, ஒவ்வொரு பரிச்சயமான அந்நியர்களிடமும் போய் அவரது வாழ்க்கை நிலவரம் பற்றி கேட்டறியத் தூண்டும் எழுத்துக்கள் என்று, அது போன்ற கதைகள் இவை. புனைக்கதைகள் அல்ல, ஏதோ ஒரு தருணத்தில் இந்த எழுத்தாளரின் வாழ்வில் வந்து பினையப்பட்ட வேறு சில மனிதர்களின் கதை. 'அறம்' உண்மையிலேயே தர்மத்தை உயரக்கொண்டு போய் நிறுத்தும் கதையென்றால், 'வணங்கான்' சமூகத்தின் அதர்மங்களை எதிர்த்து நின்றவரின் கதை. பெண்ணுரிமை ஏதோ உடுப்பிலும் மது குடிப்பிலும் மட்டுமே என்றான இந்த காலகட்டத்தில், மிக மோசமான கொடுமைகளைக்கூட சகித்துக் கொண்டு தனக்குள்ளேயே புழுங்கிச் செத்த பல்லாயிரம் பெண்களின், பழைய தலைமுறை தெய்வங்களின் பாட்டை விவரிக்கும் 'தாயார்பாதம்'.  ஜீவகாருண்யம் அனைத்து உயிர்களுக்கும் தான் என்று காட்டிச்சென்ற ஒரு அற்புதமான மனிதனின் கதை 'யானை டாக்டர்'. வலது கை கொடுப்பதை இடது கை அறியாது தான தர்மங்கள் செய்வது எப்படி என்பதை உணர்ச்சி பொங்க சொல்லித்தரும் 'சோற்றுக்கணக்கு'. சமூகநீதியும் இட ஒதுக்கீடும் ஒரு பிற்போக்கான செயலாகக் கருதப்படும் இந்த கால மக்களுக்கு அதன் பின்னால் இருக்கும் காரணங்களையும் அவலங்களையும் சுட்டிக்காட்டும் 'நூறு நாற்காலிகள்'. ஒரு சக மூத்த எழுத்தாளரின் இறுதிநாட்களையும் இயல்பையும் விவரிக்கும் 'பெருவலி'. மதமாற்றம் ஒரு பிரச்சினைக்குரிய நிகழ்வாக இன்று இருக்கையில், மதத்தின், மத விசுவாசத்தின் உண்மையான தாத்பரியத்தை கூறும் 'ஓலைச்சிலுவை'. கலையின் மேன்மையையும் ஆண்-பெண் உறவுகளின், அது குறித்த உணர்வுகளின் ஆழ அகலங்களை அளக்க எண்ணும் 'மயில் கழுத்து'. மனிதர்கள் உறவுகளைத் தாண்டி, சமூக வரைமுறைகளைத் தாண்டி ஒருவர் மீது ஒருவர் வைக்கக்கூடிய பாசம் மற்றும் பக்தியின் பலாபலன்களை சொல்லும் 'மத்துறு தயிர்'. பொது நலனுக்கு உண்மையாகப் பாடுபடுபவர்களை எல்லாம் பைத்தியம் போல நடத்தியும், சமூக நலனைக் குப்பையாக எண்ணி சுயநலம் பேணி வாழ்வோரை பெருமாண்பு கொடுத்தும் வாழ வைக்கும் இந்த முட்டாள் சமூகத்திற்கு ஒரு செய்தி போல 'கோட்டி'. 'யாதும் ஊரே யாவரும் கேளிர்' என்ற பழந்தமிழ் சொல்லுக்கேற்ப வாழும், வாழ விரும்பும் பிற தேசத்து மனிதரின் கதையாய் 'உலகம் யாவையும்'. இந்தப் பன்னிரு கதைகளும் பன்னிரு பாடங்கள். புத்தகம் வெறுமே சொற்கள் நிறைந்த காகிதங்களின் தொகுப்பல்ல, அவை படிப்பவரின் உள்ளத்தில் ஆழ்ந்த தாக்கத்தை உண்டாக்கி, சமுதாய  மாறுதல்களுக்கு வழிகாட்டும் ஆயுதங்கள் என்று உணர்ந்த ஒருவரால் மட்டுமே இப்படி ஒரு புத்தகத்தை எழுத முடியும்.

 

கற்பனைக்கதைகளையும், காதல் கவிதைகளையும் தாண்டி நான் கற்கத் தொடங்கும் போது, சுற்றி நடக்கும் அவலங்களையும் சமூகச் சிக்கல்களையும் எளிய நடையில், இயல்பான சொல்வழக்கில் எனக்கு கற்றுத்தந்த முதல் எழுத்தாளர் ஜெயகாந்தன். மனித மனங்கள் குறித்தும், அவற்றின் இருண்ட பக்கங்கள் குறித்தும் நான் முதலில் கற்றது அவர் கதைகளில் இருந்துதான். அழுகிய ஏதோ ஒன்றை நம் முகத்தில் வீசி, முதலில் குடலைப் புரட்ட வைத்து பின் அதிலிருந்து பரிசுத்தமாகும் வழியையும் சொல்வது போல், மனமாசுக்களைப் பற்றிப் பேசி, பின் அதிலிருந்து மீண்டு மனிதன் தன் மேன்மையை உணரவும் செய்வதுபோல் இருக்கும் ஜெயகாந்தன் எழுத்துக்கள். அந்த வகையில் என்னை மிகவும் பாதித்தவை 'ஒரு வீடு பூட்டிக் கிடக்கிறது' மற்றும் 'நான் இருக்கிறேன்' சிறுகதைகள். அது போல் மிக நீண்ட காலம் கழித்து என் இருப்பின் ஆழம் வரை சென்று என்னை உலுக்கியெடுத்த எழுத்துக்கள் இவை. குறிப்பாக 'தாயார்பாதம்' மற்றும் 'நூறு நாற்காலிகள்' என் ஆயுள் வரைக்கும் கூட வரப்போகும் அனுபவங்கள். 

           

புத்தகத்தை வாசித்து முடித்து புத்தக அலமாரியில் வைக்கும்போது தோன்றிய எண்ணம் - புத்தகம் வாசிக்கும் பழக்கம் இல்லாதவர்கள் காமத்தை விடவும் பரவசம் அளிக்கக்கூடிய, கடவுளை விடவும் ஆன்ம நிறைவு தரக்கூடிய ஒரு அனுபவத்தை இழந்து கொண்டிருக்கிறார்கள்.

 

அறம், ஓர் அனுபவம்!