Sea and Sky

Manila Bay, The Philippines

2008-04-27T11:53:00.000-07:00

These pictures were taken within a span of 5 minutes from each other. It was almost magical how the sky changed hues so fast. I just stood there as a speck beneath the enchanted skies, awed and enamored, gazing at the celestial canvas.

#1

#2

#3

Ice-cold photo. Brrr...

2008-04-13T18:50:00.001-07:00

Another ice-cold photo.

New crazy ideas for 2008: Blog identity and (re)views

2008-01-11T18:24:00.001-08:00

This blog has been silent for a while. I haven't written anything in a long time. One of the reasons was sheer laziness. Writing blog posts is hard work. It's harder than it sounds. Another reason was that I have written much in the past few months… just not on my blog. And that has taken a toll on my writing for this blog. After all, how much can one write? How much can one rant? How much can one spout? How much can one pout?

But the biggest reason why I think I haven't posted in a long time is that I haven't yet figured out my relationship and engagement with blogging. I don't see myself as much of a blogger. In fact I don't see myself as a blogger. I don't know how and why I got into it. Of course I like it. I have had some very interesting experiences on blogosphere, and met some interesting people here. But I don't feel like an "insider". Probably because I have never been able to figure out exactly what to write on this blog. I oscillate between thinking of this blog as a personal territory and an impersonal domain. I don't want this blog to be of my very personal life… I'm sure of that. I've written about feminist issues on this blog… thrown in a poem now and then… uploaded a picture once in a blue moon… and posted gibberish very frequently. I haven't figured out its genre… its niche… neither have I figured out if I want it to have a genre or a niche. Too much confusion, eh?

I have thought about shutting it down entirely, and contemplated a place in the cold storage too. I don't want to do that. No. I want to write. And of late, I've been feeling this renewed urge to scribble on this screen again. And I want to change the nature of this blog. Or rather I should say that I want this blog to have a more concrete and firm nature. And so I have decided to post reviews on it… reviews of books, articles, movies, art...

Wait a second, did I really just say that? Who am I? Some sophisticated art critic? Homo Sapiens Librarius? Photography connoisseur? None of them. Renaissance art goes over my head, and terms such as surrealism, cubism, impressionism and realism barely manage to clumsily stumble out of mouth, thwarting all my dreams of romancing with art effortlessly. I don't understand the theories and criticism of literature much either. I often read intelligent poetry that certifies my low poetry I.Q. beyond any reasonable doubt when I don't get it even in the fifteenth fiftieth attempt. I have often caught myself not being able to celebrate the craft of celebrated authors, poets, painters, musicians, movie directors, and other species of art creators. So no, I make no claims of being an expert and intellectual reviewer. In fact I make no claims of being a reviewer. I am just a viewer. And as I view, I feel, I interact, I respond, I emote, I struggle, I empathize, I lash out, I walk out, I cry, I laugh, I giggle, I sulk, I cheer, I boo… I interpret.

And that's what I want this blog to me now… my (naïve) interpretations of what I view. Of course I won't post regularly (as if anyone cares!). And frankly, these posts are more for myself than for anyone else you might read them. When I see some things, I want to get them out of my system. Hmm… but I cannot ever get them out of my system, now can I? Let me rephrase that sentence. When I come across some things, I want to talk about them. I want to say a few things out loud. I want to not just boo or cheer in the isolation of my living room (or kitchen, or stairs, or bathtub), but I want to let it hang out. Why? I don't know. I will not think about this question, because – (i) nobody has asked me this question, and (ii) I don't have an answer.

Post script:

Last year I attended a talk by Cherrie Moraga, a Chicana lesbian woman, poet, teacher, playwright and essayist, who told her story of becoming a mother in words similar to these:

In (insert a year from the early 90's here), I wrote about how I was never going to be a biological mother to anyone. A year later, I was pregnant! When I was asked about it, I said, "I changed my mind."

Human mind is a very elusive thing. It somersaults often. Who knows I just might change my mind about anything and everything I have written in this blog, and never get to writing (re)views. But then again, how does that matter?

Why do I (sometimes) write; why do I (sometimes) not write?

2007-12-21T05:18:00.000-08:00

I don't know.
Wish I knew.
Do I write because I know news?
Do I not write because there's no news?

It's fun to write gibberish :)

Random pic

2007-05-26T08:35:00.001-07:00

It's (not) all bull!

2007-05-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

Reluctant furniture

2007-05-06T15:18:00.000-07:00

Kill 'em! Castrate 'em!

2007-04-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

What would be the appropriate punishment for someone who sexually abuses children? When asked this question, typically people respond with the following answers:

Kill them!
Castrate them!
Rape them/their kids.

While these responses arise out of the shock and horror stories of child sexual abuse often bring, they are neither appropriate nor practical. And here’s why:

Kill them!

Besides the arguments along the lines of human rights and capital punishment, it is a fact that killing them won’t help protect more children from being abused. First of all, killing an abuser will eliminate the possibility of that abuser abusing more children. What about thousands of other kids who get abused everyday? Second, it will not serve as a deterrent for other abusers. There are many countries across the world that have excellent rape and child abuse laws. However, these crimes are still extremely prevalent in those countries. In India, where laws and their implementation has always been an issue, this method will just not work. Third, being identified as a child abusers carries tremendous stigma in any society, including India. Social stigma is always a greater deterrent than legal instruments. If the social stigma does not deter the abusers, it is highly unlikely that death penalty will (this is not to state that laws don’t matter… of course they do… just that they alone are not sufficient). Fourth, death penalty is allowed only in the “rarest of the rare circumstances”. Take a look at the prevalence figures for child sexual abuse across the world, and you will realize that child sexual abuse is not rare, leave aside being rarest of the rare (World Health Organization estimates that 1 in 10 children is sexually abused!). Finally, this method will kill only who get caught. Abusers are so smart in their modus operandi, that for every abuser who gets caught, there are hundreds who walk away free. How will death penalty catch them?

Castrate them!

This is probably the most common response. However, sexual abuse doesn’t require genital gymnastics. In fact, it does not even require for a child to be touched physically. Rape is only one form of abuse. What about child pornography on the internet? What about voyeurism (where the abuser gets sexual pleasure out of looking at children when they are in the bathroom, changing clothes etc.)? What about forcing a child to engage in sexual activity with another child? All these acts do not require the abuser to touch the child? But are they abusive? Of course! Castrating someone does not take away their ability or intentions to be abusive.

Rape them/their kids.

Violence is not the answer to violence. If we do this, we will send out the message that rape is justified as long as the motive behind it is justifiable. Motives can always be interpreted, misinterpreted, manipulated and twisted. Rape is unacceptable. Period.

So what needs to be done?

We need to stop looking only at legal and punitive measures to stop abusers from abusing. They have their place, but they don’t change society. We need to stand up and be counted, instead of passing the buck to the courtrooms and expecting prisons to do the trick. We need to accept that:

Abusers exist.
They exist among us, and not just on Jupiter, developed countries, English-speaking countries, poor illiterate families, rich urban families and blah blah blah.
They can be people we know, like or love… like our family members, relatives, friends, neighbors…
They are not devils or demons, but people like us who live routine lives.
Primary responsibility to stop them lies with us.
They can be stopped by breaking the taboos and the silence about child sexual abuse.
They can be stopped by talking to children about sexuality and sexual violence (in an age-appropriate way, of course).
They can be stopped when we stop covering up for them when find out instances of abuse… but place the responsibility of child sexual abuse where it belongs – on their shoulders.

From the pages of a dusty diary

2007-03-12T09:08:00.000-07:00

It's tough
very tough
and painful too,
to stare
into the accusing
and hostile eyes
of blank paper,
and just doodle
big-small circles,
when you really have
lots to say.

May 2004

Taking back the web

2007-03-05T00:18:00.000-08:00

I switched to Firefox. Here and here is why. And here is where you can get it too. It's free, it's cool, it's safe and it challenges the monopolisation of the cyberspace.

Nothing somethings

2007-02-27T15:51:00.000-08:00

Nothing something - I

Nothing Something - II

Nothing Something - III

Nothing Something - IV

humming...

2007-02-09T05:33:00.000-08:00

Have been humming this one all week... it's such a fun song :)

I can laugh
When things ain't funny
Ha ha, happy-go-lucky me

Yeah, I can smile
When I ain't got no money
Ha, ha, happy-go-lucky me

It may sound silly but I don't care
I got the moonlight, I got the sun
I got the stars above

Me and my filly, we both share
Slappy-go-happy
Happy-go-lucky love

Well, life is sweet
Sweet as honey
Ha ha, happy-go-lucky me

- Paul Evans

PS: The song's from Pecker

Eureka!

2007-01-25T22:31:00.000-08:00

I have yapped a lot on this blog about feminism not necessarily being anti-men, and about men being potential and real allies of feminism. I recently stumbled upon this article that makes the point, which I've been trying to make, so very succintly and crisply.

New Year... Cheers!

2007-01-03T15:30:00.000-08:00

To laugh is to love.

I cannot but love the people with whom I laugh.

Sharon Terry

Trees, tears and snow

2006-12-22T19:48:00.000-08:00

I came back from the dead

and believed

this gave me the right

to speak to others

but when I found myself face to face with them

I had nothing to say

because

I learned

over there

that you cannot speak to others.

- Charlotte Delbo (in Useless Knowledge)

I love this one...

2006-10-04T06:25:00.000-07:00

Just came across this poem... its such a warm feeling when you suddenly come across a poem that you've known and liked in the past... its like meeting an old friend on the sidewalk on a warm winter day...

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

- William Blake
"Auguries of Innocence"

Real men don't rape

2006-09-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

Picture this:

The damsel is coy and shy and keeps shrinking within her skin, as the bloke is trying to paw her from different angles and directions. She keeps running away, and he keeps running after. She says no, he says yes. The charming act continues till the last stanza of the song being played in the background, when he finally approaches her with resolve and determination, and she reluctantly (but gladly) agrees… and the duo turn into a silhouette of their firm embrace against the melting sun as the melodious voice of the playback singers approaches the final words of the song “pyaar mein naa ka matlab to haan hota hai” (“in love, no means yes”).

Isn’t this the common ingredient of most Indian movies we see (or don’t see)? But no, it’s a not a phenomenon contained to India alone. Doesn’t this reflect the larger belief system, that:

1. When she says NO, she actually means YES.
2. The louder the spoken NO, the louder the unspoken YES.
3. When she says no, she’s just acting pricey.
4. She says no because she’s shy.

So here’s another thing that patriarchy has developed over millennia to benefit the hegemonic masculinity. Either she can say yes to a man’s sexual advances, or she can say no. If she says yes, she’s a "slut"… a “use and throw” woman. After all, which cultured and moral woman says yes to anything remotely sexual!!! So go ahead and do whatever. And if she says no, see 1, 2, 3 and 4 above. So go ahead and do whatever.

This impinges upon women’s sexual rights in two ways:

1. Her right to say No. This social belief teaches women that saying no holds no meaning. After all, a no is a no only if the other person sees it as a no. Also, it belittles women and treats them as lesser humans who do not have the mental ability to decide for themselves. It also takes away her right to her body, and to decide when, how, where and by whom would she like and not like to be touched. And this becomes especially important within a sexual relationship, as men feel they have a right to demand sex whenever they want, and women feel obliged to agree, or powerless to refuse.

2. Her right to say Yes. This belief teaches women that saying yes would mean they are held firmly within the claws of moral turpitude, and therefore – (i) can be enjoyed at will; and (ii) need to be tamed. Both deductions take away her right over her body, as well as respect for her choice(s).

So where does this leave women? With no right over their own body and sexuality? With little power to say no or yes?

Any sexual act by one person with two or more persons ,without the other person(s)’s consent is rape. Well, rape is more than just this, but let’s just say this for now.

So why is that almost all rape prevention programs are directed at women? Why is it that women have a long list of cautions and precautions, while men… well, men will be men!!! Why is it that policies and programs rarely talk to men what these stereotypes and gender constructs mean? Why is it that there are so few efforts to engage men on how to be responsible partners, friends, strangers… how to express themselves sexually, yet responsibly.

Most rape perpetrators are men. Doesn’t this mean that they need to change in order to end rape. Why do we see rape as "unfortunately inevitable"? Why do we not object to movies, soaps and commercials that tolerate and support rape? Why do we see those messages as harmless and apolitical?

If there’s a community that can stop rape, its men! And that’s the idea behind this brilliant campaign to engage male partners of women to be sexual within those relationships more positively and sensitively. The message is simple: when she says No, she means No. Respect that.

Check out their website. And they have a great newsletter too.

PS: The title of the post comes from another organization that aims to (besides many other things) promote positive masculinities.

Feminist. Man. Feminist man.

2006-09-11T12:35:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about this for a long time and perhaps its time I pen my thoughts down. Besides allowing me the opportunity to share my thoughts with others, it helps me structure my own thoughts and takes my own thought process forward. These may sound a little random and haphazard, though.

M’s recent post on bloggers and gender politics got me thinking once again on this. She writes:

"i also hate explaining obvious things like "feminism isn't about male bashing" ad nauseam; something i find i have to do all too often if i start these discussions with people in real life."

I have done this for a long time… defending feminism… in society… at workplace… among friends… on my blog… on listservs and discussion groups. And as much as it is agonizingly frustrating, I guess I will continue to do that for the rest of my life. But it does get very irritating to explain the obvious… especially to people who claim to know what “feminism is all about”. There is no cure for informed ignorance!

But I won’t go into the emotional rhetoric of how people don’t care and don’t listen. What I have been contemplating and what I want to talk about here is how I perceive myself as a feminist man and how I think others perceive me as a feminist man.

First things first. I am a feminist man. In many ways, that’s my declaration of independence, and shapes my identity, my choices and my work.

I, the feminist:

I never liked –isms… still don’t like them. I feel they pigeon-hole people into a single blinkered stream of thought and clouded lens of vision. They restrict free thought, and demand loyalty which is oppressive to human mind and as a consequence, human development (no, I’m not referring to industrial development here). I am too “tilted” as a person to be straight jacketed into –isms.

So when I came across “feminism” not merely as a term but as an ideology, my first reaction was “I believe in it, but I’m not a feminist. I am not an –ist. Period.”

But as my understanding of the subject grew, I realized feminism was not like other –isms. In fact it wasn’t like any other –ism. It was not about blinkered vision, but it opened my vision up. It did not demand loyalty, but simply helped me to view the “personal as political”, and therefore make sense of my own lived experience. It did not monopolize my mind, but helped me understand it better. It provided a validation for my own thoughts and beliefs. I had never lived inside a box… and had gone through my own share of ecstasy and horror for making that choice. Feminism didn’t put me inside a box. Instead, it told me it was okay to not be in one. That was therapeutic.

And so, being a feminist is not the same thing as being a constructivist, post-modernist, Marxist, leftist, this-ist, that-ist. Being a feminist is to believe that patriarchy oppresses, gender justice liberates. And I believe in that, so I’m a feminist.

I, the man:

When I referred to myself as a feminist man a few paragraphs ago, I made a political choice. I could have called myself a “male feminist” instead of becoming controversial by defining myself as a “feminist man”.

So what’s the difference between male and man? Basic Gender Studies 101: Sex refers to the biologically defined attributes of a person… male, female etc. Gender refers to the social construction… in terms of what sexes do… boy, girl… man, woman etc. Mummy is female, Papa is male. Mummy cooks and cleans, Papa drives and earns. Rajiv is male, Ranjeeta is female. Rajiv studies rocket science, Ranjeeta studies home science. Binu is baba, Binitha is baby. Binu plays with GI Joe, Binitha plays with Barbie. Sex, Gender.

So when I refer to myself as a man, do I accept the social constructs of gender? After all, isn’t “being a man” a loaded concept coming with its own set of contents and discontents instead of being a mere statement of fact? Should I be embarrassed to call myself a man, especially when I claim to support feminism and oppose the centuries old oppression that “men” seem to have perpetrated? I have asked myself these questions often. Of course I refuse to accept the social construction of the term “man”. Of course I feel terrible… even apologetic… for what people of my sex have done to women and to themselves all these years. And that’s precisely why I feel I need to define myself as a man. But no, I don’t feel embarrassed at calling myself a man, because in doing so, I believe I am taking power away from the social construction of the term “man”. And I certainly don’t intend to present myself as the harbinger of gender justice. I am just another person who’s trying to understand, analyze and detoxify myself of the patriarchal socialization I have been, and still am, a part of. And I’m a man too. And when I proclaim myself as a man too, I believe I’m helping pluralize the term “man”. I believe I’m doing my bit in shifting the terminology from “man” to “men”… “masculinity” to “masculinities”… and communicate there are many ways to be… some more liberating than the others. Its time we drew clear boundaries between being a man, and “being a man”… and in effect differentiate between man and MCP (yes I know I’m being politically incorrect… but I’d rather be politically incorrect here than be apolitical).

I, the feminist man:

It is often debated if men can be feminists. No, it is not a cynical question (by some “male-basher bra-burning radical women who can’t get married and are jealous of those who have happily married lives”), but a valid one. And this question gets debated even within feminist groups, among women, and among men who support feminism. One popular point of view is that men cannot claim to be feminists as feminism arises out of a personal and shared history of gender-based oppression, which can be experienced only by women. Proponents of this thought, however, do not say that men cannot be supporters and believers of feminism. So the term they have coined for such men is pro-feminist men. And so, the question for me is, am I a feminist or a pro-feminist? And I choose to call myself a feminist.

There are no absolutes to victimization and oppression. We all exchange roles in being victims and oppressors. So we essentially lie somewhere on the continuum of being a victim and oppressor, and therefore end up being a victim-oppressor or oppressor-victim. A victim-oppressor is in the primary role of being a victim, but is also an oppressor in some ways, such as in terms of perpetuating and tolerating oppression. In terms of gender oppression, I believe women would generally fall in this category, since they are the primary targets of gender oppression, but can be oppressors in their secondary role as perpetuators of patriarchy. For example, a woman who demands dowry for the marriage of her son, or abets harassment of daughter-in-law for bringing less dowry, or prays for a male child when she gets pregnant. One can argue that she does so because of the socialization she has been through, but there is no excuse for violence or injustice, and there’s a limit to which ignorance can be accepted as an excuse. But primarily she is the victim of patriarchy for being a woman and therefore has lesser status within the structures of the State and the society. Therefore she is the victim-oppressor. Then there are oppressor-victims. They are oppressors in their primary roles and victims in secondary roles. In terms of gender oppression, men would essentially be in this category, for reasons of creating, developing and perpetuating institutions within patriarchy that put them on higher rung than woman in the society, and for enjoying the benefits of such privileged position. However, they are victims too of the same patriarchal system, as it is as stifling for men as it is for women, just in different ways. For example, a man who beats up his wife because he thinks it is important to establish his status as the “man in the family” and the “head of the household”, and in effect robs himself of the emotional security and happiness a mutually supportive intimate relationship with his partner could possibly bring.

This makes both men and women victims, in one way or the other, of this system of gender relations called patriarchy, while certainly according more privileges to men as compared to women. Therefore, if woman can be oppressors and men can be victims, then does patriarchy remain exclusive domain on any one gender group? Should the focus then not shift from actors who do gender, to factors that are at the root of it? And what is feminism? Working against gender oppression… working for gender justice. And when I call myself a feminist, I am not working for women… I’m working for myself… because I don’t to be either a victim or an oppressor… because I have a discomfort with people being victims and oppressors. And therefore I am a feminist.

Also, even if we go by what I feel is a narrower definition of feminism, which talks of women’s freedom from male-perpetrated gender oppression, it is time we broadened its boundaries. Its time for a men’s movement. Its time men talk of their personal histories and lived experiences of gender victimization and oppression and realize that personal, after all, is political. And for a such a movement to start from a feminist thought will not only be a fitting tribute to what all feminism has stood for and endured, but will also do feminism proud, and not compromise its integrity.

And that’s why I choose to call myself a feminist, instead of pro-feminist.

The I Within Eyes:

I often wonder how I get perceived by others when I speak of myself as a feminist man, or through my work, action, expression. And this is not just about my speculation, but comes out of experiences. And such perception depends so much on the group/individual/population I’m interacting with… and no, stereotypes don’t work here either.

Perceptions of how people see me as a feminist man. Perceptions of how I see people seeing me as a feminist man. Perceptions of how I see myself as a feminist man. Perceptions are numerous.

Am I a sissy? Not “man enough”? Don’t I have better things to do than do this? I must be a sissy. Am I brave? Bold and courageous enough to challenge gender constructs and walk the road less traveled? I must be brave. Am I the good man? “Straight”, yet sensitive? I must be the good man. Am I a hypocrite? Spitting venom against patriarchy, and yet accepting the privileges it allows? I must be a hypocrite. Am I an armchair philosopher? Talks too much and does little? I must be an armchair philosopher.

Perceptions hurt. Perceptions heal. Perceptions vary.

No, I am not a perception. I am not a captive of my eyes… or of other’s eyes. I am a feminist. I am a man. I am I, me, myself and much more.

I am.

Hope

2006-09-10T08:28:00.000-07:00

Afghanistan ahoy!

2006-06-13T05:29:00.000-07:00

I am all set to go to Afghanistan... the assignment seems exciting... helping contribute to work against child sexual abuse... and of course, the promise of new sights, smells, sounds, tastes...

Will post stuff if I live to tell the tale ;)

Cheers!

How true!

2006-05-17T09:07:00.000-07:00

"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."

- Nietzsche

Have you?

2006-05-03T02:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt unhappy being you?
Wondered what clouds hold... what sign... what clue;
Oscillated between realities: straight, twisted, false, true;
Have you ever felt unhappy being you?

boredom / fear / irritation / confusion

2006-05-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

Consumed by the evening's masterpiece

Completely introverted

From here I could stare down eternity

leave alone and not feel deserted

I'm tired of interesting faces

And the dull ones make my weep

Don't ask me what my sign is

Instant intimacy runs cheap

- Joan Baez

mad song

2006-03-02T23:38:00.000-08:00

"Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
and with night will go"

- William Blake

I'm pointlessly angry... but so very angry...

ain't that cool?

2006-02-24T05:13:00.000-08:00

Saw this painted on a streetside wall in Manila (the Philippines):

"No Child Abuse... No Domestic Violence"

And what amazed me the most was that this was part of a campaign of a politician... she has these two issues on the top of her election manifesto... and I was like "WOW!"... won't it be even wower when elections in India too are fought and parliament seats are sought based on such issue-based politics!!

Workshop on Art Therapy

2006-02-20T01:00:00.000-08:00

My organisation, Tulir - Centre for the Prevention & Healing of Child Sexual Abuse, is organising a half-day workshop on Introduction to Art Therapy with Emotionally Disturbed Children on the 25th of Feb, 2006 in Chennai. To be facilitated by an expert art therapist, the workshop would especially be useful for professionals working with children, such as social workers, psychologists, therapists, counsellors and teachers. Interested folks may contact 26632026 or tulircphcsa@yahoo.co.in by 24th Feb for more info.

how do i look?

2006-02-09T07:16:00.000-08:00

bigness of small wonders...
changed my blog look...
am damn kicked...

bliss...

new feminist blog

2006-02-05T06:36:00.000-08:00

hi... i know it's been a long time since i've posted anything here... will (hopefully) be back soon.

saw some GREAT! movies in tha last few weeks... will (perhaps) talk about them sometime...

meanwhile, i've just joined this indian feminist blog called Sthreeling. Have a look.

:)

cheers for new year :-)

2005-12-31T19:58:00.000-08:00

Can there be a better way then Maya Angelou to start the new year?

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

World Day for Prevention of Child Abuse

2005-11-20T05:59:00.000-08:00

just something i wrote for the hindu on the world day for prevention of child abuse...

http://www.hindu.com/mp/2005/11/19/stories/2005111901480100.htm

"wows" among the leaves

2005-10-10T02:31:00.000-07:00

Stayed in this small cheery sunlighty "happy" room in Bangalore for a few hours. View from the balcony...

I stood there staring at them for a loooooong time... gazed at the celebration of life... celebration of being... the asymmetrical symmetry... tickled myself thinking how would it be for breeze to negotiate it's way through the petals... felt silly contemplating why there could not be flowers of myriad colors on the same tree... felt sillier while answering myself with "but that would confuse the bees"... contemplated if the color was orangish-red or yellowish-orange...

... ... ... and as I stood there in silence, awe, amazement, harmony, I wondered if for this one moment only was the phrase joie de vivre coined!

Child Abuse

2005-10-05T10:08:00.000-07:00

There are thousands of abused children around, and we've just stayed silent about them all this while. And as long as we stay silent, we'll keep speaking the language of abusers. And as long as we keep speaking the abusers' language, we'll keep punishing these children for the crimes committed by their abusers.

Now is really not the time for inaction. After all, "if we don't stand up for children, then we don't stand for much." (- Marian Edelman)

My name is Sarah
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,

I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better,
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my Mommy
Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all,
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
All the day long.

When I awake
I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home.

When my Mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just
One whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall.

I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And I run for the door.

He's already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!", I scream
But its now much too late
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain
Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.

- Anonymous

a-live

2005-09-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing." - Agatha Christie

To be alive is a grand thing!!

2 quick (and random) thoughts:
a) It is.
b) Isn't it?

Alone

2005-09-28T07:22:00.000-07:00

Old diaries are amazing things! Stumbled upon this poem in a pale old diary.

There's so much poetry in this poem! Isn't it?

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

by Edgar Allen Poe

jus' thinkin'

2005-09-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

3 stimulating things that I read today:

1:
"I am interested in politics for only one reason - to reach the day when I will not have to be interested in politics. I want to secure a society in which I will be free to pursue my own concerns and goals, knowing that the government will not interfere to wreck them, knowing that my life, my work, my future are not at the mercy of the state or the whim of a dictator."
- Ayn Rand

2:
"Autumn - a second spring when every leaf is a flower."
- Albert Camus

3:
"Look, I really don't want to wax philosophical, but I will say that if you're alive, you got to flap your arms and legs, you got to jump around a lot, you got to make a lot of noise, because life is the very opposite of death. And therefore, as I see it, if you're quiet, you're not living. You've got to be noisy, or at least your thoughts should be noisy and colorful and lively."
- Mel Brooks
(I found this one very invigorating even though I don't completely agree with it - I don't believe life is the very opposite of death - the way light is not the absence of darkness.)

Neat, no? :-)

grrr...

2005-09-24T08:31:00.000-07:00

"An eyeful a day keeps the doctor away.
Staring at women's breasts is good for men's health and makes them live longer, a new survey reveals. Researchers (in a "five-year study of 200 men" in Germany) have discovered that a ten-minute ogle at women's breasts is as healthy as half-an-hour in the gym."

I am at a total loss of words. Things that completely escape me about this whole so-called research affair:
1. This "study" gets conceptualized and operationalized.
2. It gets funded.
3. It gets published.
4. A newspaper prominently prints the "findings".

Right now I am so irritated by the whole thing that I don't even want to get into some sort of intellectual discussion on this (not that I won't ... sometime later may be). Is it even required of me to actually articulate why I find the whole affair sooooooo very irritating? Does it even demand academic/intellectual scrutiny to decide how damaging it is? Is it me or is it them? Why do I feel so vexed that I feel like shouting from every rooftop in town screaming, "People are more than a pile of organs and fluids! Women are not FMCGs stacked up at the corner grocery store!! Wake up and smell the coffee!!!"

And as I shout my head off, I recall what I read in yesterday's newspaper about this students' magazine in a New Zealand university that has come with a "how to" guide on date rape. (For those who are wondering: Nope, not meant for women to help protect themselves. Yup, for people to actually "how to" do it).

How low shall we have to tumble before eventually realizing that we have embarrassed ourselves enough!!!!

Sea and Sphinx

2005-09-21T06:19:00.000-07:00

just looking at the sea is a very humbling and at the same time very empowering experience... just watching the waves come and go... listening to the sound as they hit shore... looking at the mist that rises as the waves enthusiastically rush to drench the sun-baked golden sand...

i was there last week...

and was reminded of kahlil gibran:

"The Sphinx spoke only once, and the Sphinx said, "A grain of sand is a desert, and a desert is a grain of sand; and now let us all be silent again." I heard the Sphinx, but I did not understand." (Sea and Foam)

the sea spoke. the sphinx spoke. but i did not understand!
will i ever?

My Shadow

2005-09-16T08:12:00.000-07:00

The thought contained in this poem quite tickled me...

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

by R L Stevenson

Books and us

2005-09-03T05:53:00.000-07:00

I have always wondered... why do we like the books we like? Why do some of them seep through our skin and sink so deep into our minds that it becomes almost impossible to purge them out even when we want to?

Has it ever happened that you meet someone... or simply come across someone... and develop a sudden liking... or immense disliking? The other person doesn't even need to open his/her mouth. S/he doesn't need to do anything to deserve to be liked/disliked. All the person's gotta do is be there... at that moment. It happens with me often... well, not with all people. But it has certainly happened with certain people I've met. I agree, there are people who grow on you... and your likings/dislikings may change over time. But that's not what I'm speaking of. Nope, I'm also not talking of how that person carries him/herself... what s/he says... how s/he looks... nothing. As I said, all that person's got to do is to be there.

Sometimes I feel books are like people. Perhaps it is my relationship with books that is like the one with people above. But it happens. You go to a bookstore, and you have made up your mind of getting yourself something to read, and it just so happens that you don't feel like taking home a single book in the damn store. It just doesn't click! And then, sometimes while you are just ambling your time away, you come across this book whose title sounds weird and the author's name is even weirder. But you like it... I don't think it has got anything to do with the author, endorsements, the plot... all the book's gotta do is be there. This wand seller in one of the Harry Potter books says, "You don't choose the wand, the wand chooses you." I think it's something like that. You pick a book from some alcove in the store, and you just connect!! Nope, I'm not talking of the infatuation with title (like the one I had with "If nobody speaks of remarkable things" ... I'm sorry if I got the name wrong... am not too good with remembering those), or the cover design... nope, I'm not speaking of bollywood romances. I'm talking here of a profound connection with the book. Like you pick a book and you feel you've been searching for this... like the book too has been looking for you... and are overwhelmed by this acute need to read it.

It has happened with me so very often. And this phenomenon (can it be called one?) has led to some of the best book discoveries... I've stumbled upon some of my favourite books this way. Like I chanced upon "The Divine Child" while killing time in a bookstore... I picked this book up... and headed straight for the payment counter. The book turned out to be one of the most fascinating and thought-provoking journeys I've embarked upon. Same thing happened with the "Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time" (it wasn't as famous then)... and I was just so pleased with myself for having picked that book up from one forgotten corner during a book sale. The same thing has happened with so many other books as well.

Why... is the question? Why do we like the books we like. Ok, even if we didn't connect with them in the bizarre way described above, why do we still like the books we like? Is it only about the literary skills and sensibilities of the author? Is it only the fact that you liked the last book by the same chap? Is it only about the plot... the emotion... the intrigue... the turn of phrase? We could find these in soooooo many books. But why do we end up liking... or perhaps loving some books so deeply? Do we like them because they remind us of ourselves? Or is it that they portray the lives we'd want to live... or the lives we have lived? Do we like them because they affirm our beliefs... or challenge them? Do we like them because they help us escape reality... or we like them bacause they present it? Why?

Guess I am just an irrational person. I like certain books because... well, because I like them. And I guess books too are like irrational people. They choose me... well, because they choose to.

aha!

2005-08-27T21:07:00.000-07:00

Somebody used this quote in a conversation yesterday...

"In the unfolding drama of life, we play our roles unrehearsed."

Really enjoyed this one... am still savouring the taste :-)

Letting off some steam...

2005-08-24T08:51:00.001-07:00

I just met this person... young... smart... energetic... intelligent... doing well academically... meeting all the "necessary criteria" on the "social development index". A few minutes down the line she says very zealously, "You know what, I just love anti-feminist jokes." And I just stared at her while she went on to tell me her latest favorite. Here goes:

Q: why don't women know ice-skating?
A: Coz there's no snow between the bedroom and the kitchen.

I know it is terrible of me to have even repeated the joke here... But I wanted to... Wanted to make a point (besides wanting to get it outta my system... why should I be the only one to suffer?!)...

I believe that feminism as a term is a much-abused and very loosely used today (unfortunately, of course). Half the junta speaking about feminism has no idea what it means... and here I am especially referring to the ones who leave no stone unturned and no turn unstoned to curse feminism at even the slightest of opportunities. It is one thing to differ in opinion. But it's totally ridiculous to pretend as if you know it all, sit on the ideological high horse and pass judgements while living in utter ignorance. I mean, is it fair to they themselves to draw opinions which are so ill informed?

Please... it's high time we know what feminism is... very simply put, it just means "ZERO TOLERANCE TO VIOLENCE AND DISCRIMINATION BASED UPON GENDER". Is it really so difficult to comprehend or accept. And for those of us who believe it is "women's problem", please think again. Being a man myself, I can vouch for the fact that men too suffer at the hands of patriarchy. What about all the times we were called sissy for simply accepting the fact that our glands too can produce tears? Simple things... common sense... things that should be givens in our lives... justice is a very simple thing... makes life so much simple... but we try to complicate things as much as possible by wondering if men and women are equal... of course, they are... why does it take so much of an effort to accept something so... so... basic. Yup, that's the word - basic!

And for those who don't agree... you can rubbish me by calling me an idealist. Yes, I am an idealist, and would go on to say that there's nothing as pragmatic as well-thought idealism. Call gender justice unworldly and we'll only be hurting ourselves.

The same young person went on to shout her frustration off, "I don't seem to understand what do these feminists want! What is it that they want to change?" And all I could think of saying was, "You, Ma'am!"

Ever inhaled clouds???

2005-08-20T10:07:00.000-07:00

There's something very comforting about this poem... this is some sort of a "heartwarming" poem... windows are amazing things, truly!!

Windows,
You know,
We could get pretty deep
about windows.
They could be metaphors
for all kinds of
philosophical things.
But do you know what I think
about windows?
I like them.
You know why?
Because on a snowy day,
I can sit insideAnd be warm,
And be outside, too.

-Sharon Terry

I was once staying in a hotel in Mussoorie, and it was amazing to sit next to a big window in my room and watch the fog slowly rise in the valley below... and I could then open the window and let the fog and the clouds in... it was just amazing... have you ever inhaled clouds???

Freedom for sale

2005-08-14T22:32:00.000-07:00

It's the Independence Day today... just a few things that I see surrounding me:

The newspaper is full of these freedom offers... advertisements that shove their brand(s) of freedom under my nose along with the steam rising up from my morning dose of coffee... one says, "weight loss freedom plan... join the fight against obesity"... the other one declares, "independence offer... buy our laptops and leave the rest behind"...
My grocery store sells these "independence packets" of fruits... an orange, a chinese pear and a green apple. In case you are wondering what this means, it's their "sweet" idea of the tricolor, folks!
The bookstore's put these packets of tiny flags on display... you can pay by credit card in case you aren't carrying cash... just in case you've suddenly remembered it's the independence day today and a sudden wave of patriotism has filled your veins!
As I type away my thoughts at the cyner cafe, the poster on the wall reminds me that today's the last day to purchase the "Freedom 2005 pack"... "Real Broadband, Real Freedom", it announces loudly...

I dunno what to say... how to interpret all this... But my mind's still stuck on the child who in rags came to me in the morning, pinned a paper flag to my chest and asked for a rupee... Shouldn't we be happy that freedom's available for sale just around the corner at the nearest shop for a few bucks... or with the begging child with a scattered face??!!

Happy Independece Day, folks!

Economics of Violence

2005-08-14T01:42:00.000-07:00

The WHO has come up with a brilliant report on the economic effects of interpersonal violence (it excludes self-directed violence, war, state-sponsored violence and any other collective violence), measuring the impact (in money terms) of the interpersonal violence we find all around our lives. Here's a sneak-peek:

Cost of violence is almost 3.3% of USA's GDP (about US$ 40 billion per year!)
Child abuse costs $94 billion annually to the US economy
Intimate partner violence amonts to $12.6 billion on an annual basis in the US

For those of us who seek refuge in the fact that these statistics speak of only North American and West European situations, the report states that these costs are much more severe in the poorer nations, but the statistics are not available.

And where proactive steps have been taken to prevent and/or address such violence, the economic benefits have been much bigger than the corresponding costs.

Having said this, isn't it tragic that in order for us to denounce violence, we need statistical awareness of the costs involved?! What if the costs of violence weren't high? Let's assume that the economic benefits of prevention efforts were negligible in comparison with the costs? Would that make violence acceptable? Would that have made the prevention programmes any less significant?

Is it all truly about money, honey?

Water Music

2005-04-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

The water in life pulsates at times, the words in life resonate at times, and sometimes they do this in synchrony... and that's when "water music" is born... today's one of such days... this poem and i found each other over the internet...

The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.

Water music,
loud in the clearing

off the boats,
birds, leaves.

They look for a place
to sit and eat--

no meaning,
no point.

- Robert Creeley

can you feel a Haiku?!?!

2005-04-05T00:56:00.000-07:00

dusk—
up to my ears
in birdsong

- John O’Connor

If You Should Meet Me

2005-03-27T21:24:00.000-08:00

If you should meet me on the sidewalk
in the city,
would you know me?
Would you recognize my face?
Would my name come to mind for you?
And if you answer yes,
how would you respond?
Would you pass by,
pretending not to notice me?
Or nod and speak a quick hello?
Or stop and chat a while?
Or would you smile a smile so big
and spread your arms all open wide
and take me inside?
If you should meet me on the sidewalk in the city---
What would you do?

- Sharon Terry

Advice from a Caterpillar

2005-03-20T05:22:00.000-08:00

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
`Who are you?' said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'
`What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!'
`I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, `because I'm not myself, you see.'
`I don't see,' said the Caterpillar.
`I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, `for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.'

Fiction/Fulghum

2005-03-14T22:26:00.000-08:00

Here's some stuff borrowed from Robert Fulghum ... on his experiences with fiction ... i find it very interesting:

THE NOVEL

As with the life of the individual, the novel carries the seed of its end in its beginning. The answer to the reader's question, "What finally happens?" is always the same: everybody dies and the world falls into the Sun. But prolonging the end as long as possible is the novelist's privilege. That is why "THIRD WISH" finishes with the word "To be continued." I know how it ends. But I do not know what happens in the meantime. I write to find out.

I have chosen to write a novel because I choose to continue having adventure in my life. I write to create fleshy memories – to not have only the gnawed bones of the past to sustain me in old age. And even those bones are a reassembled skeleton of what really happened. Our autobiographies are themselves as much a product of the creative imagination as any work of fiction. Our history is what we need it to be. We are the heroes of our own situation comedy. To be alive and human is to live on a tightrope. To retain balance, you must keep moving.

"The novel's spirit is the spirit of complexity. Every novel says to the reader: 'Things are not as simple as you think.' That is the novel's eternal truth." Milan Kundera said that in The Art of the Novel.

A successful novel is a conspiracy between the reader and the writer. The reader's imagination is required to complete the writer's. The reader must be willing to be active – to do some work – to take some responsibility. If the reader does his work well, every novel is unique. The writer and the reader can both declare:

I am the life.
I am the work.
I am the audience.
I am the singer.
And I the song.

We conspire to collaborate.

More of Gibran...

2005-03-13T21:25:00.000-08:00

Well, here's some more of Gibran... insightful and profound - the Gibran style, of course :-)

CRITICS - By Kahlil Gibran (from The Forerunner)

One nightfall a man travelling on horseback towards the sea reached an inn by the roadside. He dismounted and, confident in man and night like all riders towards the sea, he tied his horse to a tree beside the door and entered into the inn.
At midnight, when all were asleep, a thief came and stole the traveller's horse.
In the morning the man awoke, and discovered that his horse was stolen. And he grieved for his horse, and that a man had found it in his heart to steal.
Then his fellow lodgers came and stood around him and began to talk.
And the first man said, "How foolish of you to tie your horse outside the stable."
And the second said, " Still more foolish, without even hobbling the horse!"
And the third man said, "It is stupid at best to travel to the sea on horseback."
And the fourth said, "Only the indolent and the slow of foot own horses."
Then the traveller was much astonished. At last he cried, "My friends, because my horse was stolen, you have hastened one and all to tell me my faults and my shortcomings. But strange, not one word of reproach have you uttered about the man who stole my horse."

Justice??!!

2005-03-12T22:57:00.000-08:00

Some insights from ... uh, well, who else?... Kahlil Gibran:

WAR - Kahlil Gibran (from The Madman)

One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, "What has befallen you?" And the man replied, "O prince, I am by profession a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now, O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver."
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave. But I have a neighbor, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in his trade both eyes are not necessary."
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.

(not) just another poem

2005-03-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

Came across this one recently
Could read... enjoy... relate... connect...
Read on...

Alone

He lies alone.
The quite is all to deafening. Its all there is.
To one side of him the phone. Talk.
To the other. The computer, chat.
Neither is comforting.

"It doesn't matter" he thinks.
Nothing matters.
Nothing ever will.

Near him, all around him, is the faint scent of despair.
He looks for something to hold onto.
There’s Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing except the silence, the quite.

"I should get up." he thinks.
"What’s the point?" is what follows.
His hands tremble.
He wants to cry, but he can't.
Its almost as if he's immune to the situation.

"Stiff upper lip," He thinks "Stiff upper lip"
It doesn't help
Nothing seems to help.

He searches for something more to hold onto. Anything.
All he finds are his thoughts.
They're no help.
All they seem to do is betray him.
As if someone has opened the floodgates,
Millions of Gallons of thoughts come rushing into his mind.
He struggles to stay afloat.
He looks for his planking, something to help him stay afloat.

Dreams.
He finds dreams, and holds on to them.
He won't let go. He won't ever let go.

He lies alone.
The quite is all to deafening. Its all there is.
To one side of him the phone. Talk.
To the other. The computer, chat.
Neither is comforting…

– by Greg Bealer

Musical Lobotomy

2005-03-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

Sea and Sky

2005-03-09T00:07:00.000-08:00