78. Oodles Of Ketchup In Daily Conversation

Is anyone ever taught and trained to be abusive? Yet, who misses the slightest of provocation to expose the other side in us. One such abusive session that I have been witness to is worth mentioning. For the slightest of the design flaws, the loose-limbed editor Vinod Mehta would hurl the choicest of abuses before resigning to his chamber to pen editorial for the next edition of The Pioneer. Neither would bad blood spill on the floor nor would it brood insurgency in the office, the high voltage session would end soon with everyone resuming their respective duties. Rarely if ever this not-so-frequent event would get discussed during coffee breaks. It was indeed a ritual that must have carried therapeutic value for the 'abuser' and as much unpleasant respite for the 'victim'.

For me, each abusive duel offers fresh insights on the subject. And there is no end to it in our daily lives, be it in our offices, on the street, and now increasingly on the online platforms. Content creators on the internet feel that restricting characters to be civilized hampers free-flowing, realistic storytelling on these platforms. Without digging any further into such assertion, there is little denying that every human carries this innate skill to use the abuse on cognitive demand. Whatever be the reason for the former Philippine President Duterte to use angry expletives while addressing then US President Obama some seasons ago, one thing remains clear that an abuse is a cross-cultural trans-national human trait with no less potent possibilities.  

Curiously, have restrictions ever been posed on anyone to be abusive? Instead, the entire social ecosystem is rich with suggestions to be up with the latest in the abusive thesaurus - from the neighbors, in the classroom, and even now from political figureheads. Though rarely acknowledged by the law, verbal abuse has remained an unwritten human right. Anyone who hasn't exercised this right is unlikely to be normal, so it is thought. And, seemingly so! Else, husbands and wives won't abuse each other to be close and cozy again. It isn't as much a psychological issue as perhaps it often is made into. Try asking Newton and he would say 'it conforms to my third law' - 'to every action there is an equal but opposite reaction'.

There’s an Arabic Bedouin maxim, 'Abuses are signs that the bond is deep and strong.' Similarly, a long North African proverb of Tunisia states that “those who don’t abuse occasionally are as dry as a piece of wood in the desert. They die friendless.' Now, this is the most interesting proverbial observation that those who don’t abuse, die friendless. Utter this before any true-blue Haryanvi or Punjabi and he’ll latch onto it because in northern India, abuses are like oodles of ketchup on the food of conversation. Unless it spills over to being violent, I consider verbal abuse to be an ingenious human trait. Since it cuts across all cultures and each social strata, it surely comes packaged with our existence that we have no option but to live with.         

Unlike any other human expression, the echo of a verbal abuse lingers longer than the resonance of a few good words. It hurts longer than any physical injury, piercing through the calm confines of one's inner self days on end. The trouble is that unless it is rebuffed there and then, its tone and tenor disturbingly persists. As both sides are often abusive at the same time, each serve receives an equally smart volley from the other end. If nothing, it helps soothe nerves and calm tempers. Vexed by circumstances beyond our control, toss a few abuses into the air and feel the difference. The best part is that one could either be an abuser or a victim under a given situation, and the roles can easily get reversed too.  

As verbal tirade dissipates destructive energy, the mind, body and soul return to a much-desired equilibrium. No wonder, in many cultures for the fun of it grandparents offer tutorials to kids on being abusive! At the end of it, verbal abuse could be as much a vice as a virtue. Subject to how it gets used - though rarely people exercise control when they are embroiled in it - it could easily be tried as a tool to control acrimony between people. I often wonder if anyone would consider creating 'abuse clubs' in line with the 'laughter clubs' that we have. This is a therapy whose potential has yet to be fully exploited. I wonder what might have been the outcome had Bush and Saddam engaged in a verbal dual? Who knows, war may have been avoided!

First published in Outlook on Nov 19, 2021.

77. Surprises along the running tracks

The ThumsUp Hill

Would you care to believe it if I were to tell you that one can watch a full-length movie, that too sitting inside a theatre, while on a train journey? Unbelievable, but it is truly a one-of-its-kind experience. Book yourself the night train from Kotdwara, in the Uttarakhand foothills, to Delhi, and hop across to a cinema theatre at Nazibabad railway junction while the hapless bogies go through the agonizing wait of over three hours to join the Mussoorie Express that arrives from Dehradun past midnight to continue on their onward journey. Railways don't make that offer,  innovative passengers have crafted such a theatrical opportunity to make the most of the stranded time.

I have availed this rare opportunity twice, which has added to my memories of the good as well as not-so-good rail travel experiences over time. It is the sheer experience of being on the train that replays through  amazing instances, awful encounters, amusing anecdotes, and avoidable follies. Yet, there is something compelling that continues to entice people to persist with their train journeys, quite often as a matter of choice! It is, however, another matter that barring few trains, the appalling status of most locomotives and carriages are in need of a complete overhaul in terms of comfort and safety.

Contrary to common perception about the status of trains and train journeys, the charm of being on a train has remained impossible to replicate on any other mode of transport. Train travel is a great leveler, making you rub shoulders as much with the ordinary as with the elite. With a veritable mix of experiences, a train journey allows one to reconnect with the soul of the place and its people. Even the chant of 'chai, chai' at railway stations goes through regional iterations, allowing for an unrestricted peep into unedited footage of other people's lives and cultures without them getting any inkling of such intrusion.    

Mark my words, a train journey remains a distinct aspect of our existence. Whatever be the experience - good, bad or ugly - one can never have enough of it. Because every journey is worth an exclusive story! Recently, a friend flew across to the southern tip of the country to undertake the country's longest train journey from Kanyakumari to Jorhat before flying back home to Delhi. When asked what made him undergo the ordeal of a four-nights-five-days long journey, the discerning feel to be part of the whole had got him going on the arduous journey.    

Like many others, I refuse to believe that the lure of railway journeys is fading. Those who think so, won't ever know what they might be missing. Many years ago I had spotted what was later named a Thums Up hill (after the popular aerated drink) while crossing Manmad railway junction in Maharashtra. Atop the hill one can spot a rock protruding like a human thumb. If not on a train, how else would I have spotted such a landmark? What makes any train journey exciting is the plain fact that the traveler never has full control over what it might harbor. That is indeed a hidden gain to be part of the rolling libraries of information, provided one is willing to relinquish home comforts; is ready for the unexpected; and is alive to search for the unknown.

First published in The Hindu on Nov 28, 2021. 

76. More than just the cake

No candles on this cake 

As the goal to attain 'net zero' emissions by year 2050 gains global currency, climate change mitigation by trapping excess carbon dioxide in the atmosphere retains an added significance. That the soil holds three times more carbon than the atmosphere has been scientifically validated, however, unchecked soil degradation has left this potential  far from being fully realized. Maintaining the capacity of the soil to act as a functional carbon sink needs to work in tandem with the goal of emission reduction.     

As a replenishable biological resource, dung holds soil particles together for making the landmass act like a veritable carbon sink while keeping the soil moist and productive. With 5 million tons of dung on offer on a daily basis in the country, India holds rare credentials to bring dung on the global climate agenda.  While its climate-friendly credentials of trapping soil carbon are only beginning to be realized, dung has add-on benefits of being antibacterial and anti-fungal, with recently developed thermally insulating-paint out of it being the latest addition to its list of virtues. 

As a milch country, has the country valued cattle dung to gain the desired global attention? Little has been done to salvage dung that lies splintered on roads with cows foraging from the roadside dust bins. Considered an economic resource of immense cultural value, its colossal neglect has yet to catch the attention it deserves. Nothing could be more curious than such an abandonment of a resource that comes virtually free. Even the National Biogas Program, launched in 1981, to convert dung into cooking gas has done pretty little to uplift dung's sagging image as a valuable resource. 

With its uninterrupted daily replenishment, dung is a deceptively simple raw material that has shown immense conversion value. It's nutritive worth for crops and energy value as fuel runs into billions of rupees, worthy of making the market go bullish. However, spotting dung on the streets provides a grim example of how its tangible aspects as a source with multiple benefits have failed to garner political attention. Political philosopher Jeremy Waldron may have been referring to dung when he said 'things are not quite as they seem'.

No surprise, therefore, people have learnt to live with dung which are unceremoniously scattered almost everywhere. While its ritual significance amidst diverse cultural traditions is discerning, dung  plastered as cakes on village walls and as dung-pyramids dotting the landscape presents a different story. Least said, a milk-nation has paid scant attention to dung.      

The question begging attention is: why despite many virtues good ideas about dung have lacked systematic promotion? The only exception being when noted economist E F Schumacher had pulled it out from the near abyss in the 80's by advising the government to get gas and manure out of it, through what became known as a biogas. In forty years that have gone by, not only has the ambitious program of building 12 million biogas units fell short of target by over 70 per cent, but has more dysfunctional and defunct units to its credit.

It may read like a fairy tale on unsuccessful attempts at quietude but dung has continued to act like a periscope of ideas to tease creative minds. Interestingly, like most bakery products sun-baked dung cakes can now be ordered online. There is an energy and manure value in dung cakes! Perhaps, more attractive is the recent proposal by the Chhattisgarh government to buy dung for Rs 2 per kilo at farmers' doorsteps. The country needs to value its dung from a climate perspective, incentivising its distribution to enriching soils can be a national program. 

Given the climatic urgency, there can be little denying that the country needs to be both empathetic and prepared to bring dung on the climatic agenda. Unless we alert ourselves from being lout in our dealing with dung, it will remain neglected both as a resource as well as an idea.

First published in Deccan Herald, issue dated Oct 27, 2021.

75. When printed word was the gospel truth

Singer Sulakshna Pandit on the cover of JS

In the absolute silence enforced by the invisible corona virus, the thub-thub of my own chest has become a metronome of interesting revelations. Much of the past has revealed itself in bits and  pieces. Putting them together into a narrative has helped relive those days of growing up. I recall how small odors of spices were infused by a clutch of magazines for emerging middle-class readers in the early years of post-independent era. Rich in contents and editorial gravitas, these magazines had promoted a sub-culture of creative writing. Promoting a sense of social responsibility among diverse readership, those publications accorded some sense of recognition to mortals like me who wrote in the domestic patois. 

During 1970's, Mirror had emerged as a monthly magazine with wholesome reading for the entire family. For a sports buff who spent hours in the library digging facts on country's hockey laurels from the Encyclopaedia Britanicca, the magazine gave maiden opportunity for me to share the fact that Roop Singh, brother of hockey wizard Dhyan Chand, had scored more goals in 1932 Los Angeles Olympics. India had humbled hosts USA to a record 24-1 in hockey, that has remained unchallenged ever since. The fact-filled piece had proved a stepping stone for me to get published in other leading magazines of the time, monthly Imprint and the premier Illustrated Weekly of India. 

When concerns of the youth had begun to extend beyond domesticity, magazines like Youth Times and JS (Junior Statesman) had helped shape expressions of both conservative and elitist voices of the young generation. Immensely engaging, these publications gave youth a thrilling ride to deflate their windbag egotism. Guiding young collegiates to situate themselves in the bewildering realities of changing times, Anees Jung edited young minds' warped accounts in Youth Times while irresistible Desmond Doig captured lyrical enthusiasm of his readers in JS. Much before the youth were sucked into the world of competitive existence, these two magazines had helped youth in carving their distinct niche in society.     

With special appetite for the printed word gaining currency, there was a perceptible shift in the cultural tectonic plate across most middle-income households. Vying for a share in emerging readership, competition among publishing houses had led to a variety of magazines on offer for the discerning readers. Sarika to quench literary thirst; Dinman for political undercurrents; Madhuri for film freaks; Nandan for the adolescents, and Dharamyug for the seniors were monthly acquisitions for most Hindi-speaking households. Curiously, reading had emerged as a consumptive habit for a vibrant society. 

As I recount hazy images of the befuddled past, I realize how a learning and sharing landscape abuzz with a distinct sense of responsive sensibility towards each other has been long lost. While then editors would guide and nurture budding writers, in the present times building email connectivity with editors is a rarity. I recall how snail mails from editor M D Japheth accepting my articles in Mirror were both encouraging and inspiring; and Anees Jung guiding me to focus more on flow than parading the narrative with heavy words in Youth Times had left an indelible mark on my writings ever since.       

Although there is much on offer to read now and that too free, it is the subtle bonding with the magazines that has disappeared from our lives. Recalling the words of Yash Chopra, the silver screen’s undisputed king of romance, invisible relationships were being built then among different sections of the society. It had worked both ways. For irresistible Khushwant Singh, environment stories had no takers. Much before I could take him on his words, the freshly launched New Delhi had closed down its shutters. As I remember those illustrious editors and lament the demise of several magazines that had shaped my world view, I recall with concern one such magazine that folded before it could publish two of my accepted articles. Such was the the impact of advertisement revenue drying up that even Contour, a magazine published by the Hindustan Times group, closed a few months after its launch in the late 80's. For a freelance writer it meant missing out on buying a favorite dinner. 

The niche magazines that created a social and cultural connect with the times could not bear the aversion of financial backers. It had led life coming to a pause for many like me, denying us the space we needed to grow and flourish.

First published in Outlook, for the week ending Nov 01, 2021.

74. The comforting cup of good hope

The pandemic has taught the real virtue of a cup of tea, without fail each sip offers a warm hug during such torrid times. The cups of tea that give a warm hug are also a salute to those untiring efforts by unknown people who pluck soft tea buds for further processing which makes the beverage a daily reality. Having co-existed with tea as its constant companion ever since, I wonder if I can claim myself to be a tea-totaler?

Friends ask; what do you do when you are not doing anything? Drinking tea, what else! Literally, that has been the case. It helps me take a break, sip through the past moments and slip into the next. It is more of a norm than an exception to break for a cup of tea between two tasks, considered a fundamental right in offices and at work places. The prime reason seems that a cup of tea - warm and comforting - inspires a feeling of relaxation and trust that fosters shared confidence.

Is it an addiction or a carefully considered compulsive habit? Inconclusive it may be, however, the way it works is even more amazing. If you are feeling sleepy, you need a cup of tea; and a warm cup of tea can put you to sleep as well. It works both ways. If you are feeling cold, tea will warm you; if you are restless, it will cool you; if you are depressed, it will cheer you; and, if you are excited it will calm you. No other beverage, and that too a concoction has so much on offer at an abysmally low price.

During college days, I was one among a few who would consume as many as 16-17 cups of tea daily. At that rate, by a conservative estimate one would drink anywhere between 22k - 28k litres of tea in an active lifetime. Friends will often wonder if it is tea that flows in my veins? Japanese count such expressions as compliments, and instead argue that ‘if man has no tea in him, he is incapable of understanding truth and beauty'. I would imagine that a cup of tea helps in seeing some of the great things in life.

I have experienced that unlike other drinks, a cup of tea in itself makes for good company. From the first sip to the last, one gets transported to the hills among tea gardens with flowing streams, chirping birds, and hovering clouds. From shattering loneliness to invoking freshness, a cup of tea at any time of the day is refreshing, something that we Indians simply can’t live without. Sometimes I feel it is an aggregate of many things rolled into a cup, the aroma and flavor are just physical manifestations.  

With its multi-variants now on offer, chai is one beverage that has come of age to meet all tastes and all needs. The pandemic has created conditions to explore as many of those variants. And, I can safely say that I'm not done yet. 

First published in Deccan Herald on Oct 13, 2021.

73. Inside us there are two, or may be more

Lion headed Narasimha

In early 2013, a widely circulated high-definition video had claimed that one of President Barack Obama’s security attaché was a shape-shifting alien humanoid. Considered one of the internet's most insane conspiracy theories, the White House had dismissed such alien bodyguards as too costly in this era of budgetary austerity. But the claim gained much traction, and had generated loads of interesting comments in the virtual sphere. The conspiracy may have been dismissed but it was widely held that the agent must have been shapeshifting into some sort of reptilian, nonhuman form. 

It may be easy to dismiss shapeshifters as rumour or superstition but across cultures, from primitive to modern, there have been reports of many such encounters. One such was reflected in the 1981 film An American Werewolf in London, which had inspired Mahesh Bhatt to recreate Junoon a decade later wherein a young man is cursed to become a tiger every full moon night. The prevalence of shapeshifter archetype in books and movies reflect the fantasy of turning oneself into something more powerful, modifying one's identity to represent the repressed desire of being something other.    

Humans are known to possess animal instincts, purportedly to explore their dark side and to break free of the bonds of proper societal behavior. Not only that, they also defy logic by getting under the animal skins to exhibit their extraordinary powers. Who would have forgotten the elusive monkeyman prowling old parts of Delhi in recent times or the image of mythical half-lion Narasimha devouring the obstinate king in the olden days. Real or imaginary, the phenomenon of humans shapeshifting into animals lurks deep in our psyche with its manifestation seen in movies, books and computer games.

Psychologists tell us we all harbour dual nature within us - the higher, noble and moral self, and the base, amoral and animal nature. Masks and costumes have been used to slip from one into the other, a safe outlet for expressing our hidden desires. From cave paintings and other artefacts, archaeologists have deduced prehistoric rituals and dance ceremonies designed to invoke the spirits of animals. Till this day, it is believed that when men of Nagaland's Konyak tribe sleep, their souls travel into wild animals, like a leopard, and they become leopard-like in their actions and rarely get defeated in a battle.

It seems tribal societies wrested the power of shapeshifting from the gods, the tales of which abound across all cultures. Lord Vishnu incarnates in various forms; Jesus is perceived as a divine shapeshifter; and the Buddha gets protection from transformed nagas. These and other tales might seem like relics of antiquity bereft of any logic, but such an opinion belies the staying power of theses stories. Even if imaginary, the shapeshifters have encouraged and empowered us towards transformation. Among many, the films Terminator and Transformers are its popular onscreen manifestations that bridge the gap between imagination and reality!  

In his exploration of the cultural history of 'Shapeshifters'*, Ohio University Creative Writing Instructor John Kachuba suggests the need to step back from our technology obsessed mind to appreciate things that our senses have yet to grow sharper to acknowledge and appreciate. In this light, the shapeshifters challenge all our assumptions about what we think we know. Only when we identify less with the form we have as a body, the power of shapeshifter will come more fully into our lived experience to enable communication between human and non-human intelligence.  

Deeply embedded in our consciousness, the shapeshifter archetype endures. So much so that there are millions of people across the world who believe that shapeshifters walk among us, and consider some of them may even be our present leaders. The werewolf in the form of a political leader isn't a remote possibility. It never was!

First published in The Hindu on Oct 10, 2021.

72. An ode to those who stand and deliver

The pandemic may have transformed schools somewhat irretrievably but the classroom memories have remained permanently etched on my mind. I recall how my teachers dealt with non-compliance, making few like me realize that the horse was not the only animal valued for its ability to stand long hours. The best of the horses may be known to spend the better part of their life standing on their hooves but so were some of us, the lucky ones were punished to stand inside the classroom and the unlucky few had to do the honors standing outside the classroom. The fame in both cases was instant!

Decades later, to the sheer amusement of my family and friends, I toast those 'out-standing' credentials of mine as an essential gift of recognition from my teachers. Neither jaded nor unhappy, long bouts of serving the sentence outside the classroom helped me know what to think, and how to think. It helped me swallow the self-inflicted humiliation; made me learn to assess the virtues in defiance; and taught me the act of pursuing equanimity amidst adversity. Enlightenment of some kind would dawn on me during those moments of forced isolation, and it had stayed with me ever since.   

Much has changed since then, however. I have now learnt that present-day classrooms are no longer what they used to be, defying norms as an act of reasoning are seemingly long passé. The 'soldier mindset' of conforming to defined norms has demotivated most children from the act of reasoning. But I remain grateful to my teachers who inadvertently gave me the real challenge of evaluating their decisions in light of me holding onto an indefatigable position. How else would have I ever learned the standalone formula for estimating the potential value of my riskier predicaments? 

Unlike many of my compatriots I hold no qualms against the treatment meted out to me by my teachers. Instead, my gratitude is towards them for training us on a 'scout mindset' which helped to recognize when we were wrong, gave freedom to stick with our assumptions, and allowed to seek our blind spots for redemption. Shouldn’t teachers alone decide what’s best for their students? As I look back I realize that their decisions must have been well-intentioned and rational, but could have easily been mistaken simply because so much in our thinking can often go wrong.

What pains me though is the treatment being accorded to teachers by the school system today. Shockingly, their right-to-sit in the classrooms is not reserved anymore. Most schools do not keep chairs for teachers in the classrooms because it is believed that sitting ducks do not deliver quality lessons. As I remember my teachers for doing what they did in the guise of making us better students, my heart goes out to the present lot whose worth is as much and perhaps only as long as they can stand and deliver. School teaching has turned out to be a daily ordeal. 

The teachers go through trauma which is worse than what many like me had been through during school days, as theirs' lasts for no less than eight hours, five days a week. For going through such torturous engagement, what they gain in the process is either/or a combination of back pain, joint pains, swollen feet, and varicose veins. The tragedy is that neither them nor anyone is speaking for them. Isn't it time the regressive policy of forcing teachers to stand and deliver is done away with? 

First published in The Hindu, issue dated Sept 5, 2021.

71. Lips seek attention all the time

Colored lips are forever

After more than a year of struggle, heartbreak, and uncertainty, we all deserve to have things go a colorful way. That said, it is an interesting time to be alive and be able to capture even the smallest differences that can deflect our attention from the morbid occurrences. With pain and despair somewhat behind us, it is women who have emerged stronger than men in coming out of their masked existence. They have made it clear that their lips cannot remain hidden for long.    

Resurgence in lipstick sales in recent times is clear evidence that the lips have outlived being out of sight for all that the masked world has currently been through. It is good news for the other half too, the lips covered with color and gloss make for a pleasant site. Who would have thought that the little stick can stand the tallest storm? Like it had bounced back during the Great Depression of the 1930's, lipstick has stood the test of time during the ongoing Corona Pandemic too. 

Currently worth $34 million, lipstick sales in the US are close to where they were during the pre-pandemic quarter. Although the annual lipstick business in India is still behind its pre-pandemic high of $58 million, market trends indicate that demand is beginning to look up. One might wonder when the economy has literally been masked should the revival of lipstick business merit any attention? And, should I be bothering you with lipstick sales when many are still not out of the woods?

Mark my words, this small-yet-affordable look-good luxury item is more than sheer color and gloss. It is an indicator that reflects how one half of the society comforts itself during social and economic calamities, however, without causing any discomfort to the other half. Curiously, under economic duress lipstick sales begin to look up as no woman spends money on what she can ill-afford. Even before anyone notices it in the household, lipstick tops the list of affordable feel-good groceries.

Interestingly, there is an unconventional economic logic to it. It is called Lipstick Index, coined by businessman Leonard Lauder in 2001, which is a measure of how women spend money during hard times. Contentious as it may be, this index has stood as a measure of consumers' less expensive indulgences when they do not feel confident about the economic future. So, this is what makes designer dresses continue to stay on shop racks while lipstick goes out for a walk. 

All said, the lipstick index can reflect only a part of the story. Without reading the lips one cannot get hold of the complete story. While there may be mixed feelings among women - ranging from exhilaration of brightening the face yet again; to sheer annoyance of getting to wear it after a long while; and finally avoidance of staying under the mask - there is little denying that lipstick has come to symbolize women’s dreams, desires and freedom. What better one could have ever bargained for? 

Colored lips are a narrative device, acting like an extension of a woman's mind. However, women rarely tell what they stand to achieve through colored lips but it is perhaps this desperation to express herself that drives women to buy themselves a pick-me-up for whatever little savings they hold, which is a nice treat with a feel-good feeling for themselves and for the rest of us too. As I understand, lipstick, be it under the burqa or a mask, symbolizes an undisputed power of expression and assertion.Colored lips are forever!

First published in Outlook, July 18, 2021.

70. The bridge too far

The ferry, and the bridge under construction

Back in 2008, five of us had undertaken a moderately arduous but exploratory trip upstream on and along the mighty Brahmaputra, from Guwahati in Assam to Pasighat in Arunachal Pradesh. To move across the masculine river, we had to ferry our vehicle from predetermined locations along the river bank. During the time lapse for the incoming ferry to unload and reload, we were witness to cultural effervescence with life bursting with engaging activities at the harbor. From traditional outfits to local foods, from alluring handicrafts to personal services on offer, there was much to do during the otherwise inconvenient waiting time. 

Once across the river from Dhemaji, the distance to the highway leading to Dibrugarh town wasn't that far. But on any given day it was an ordeal for some 250-odd vehicles to reach the highway as most of them would invariably sink into the pulverized sand to be negotiated before hitting the road head. Although we drove cautiously to avoid being sand trapped, odds were stacked against us as well. Much to our dreaded surprise, our collective wisdom was of little value in overcoming the unavoidable hurdle. Panic-stricken as we were, attempts at applying acceleration sank our car further into the sands.

Having run out of all options, we signaled those three youngsters who were helping others, to pull us out of trouble. With many vehicles falling into the sandy trap each moment, their services were over subscribed. Yet, they rushed towards us and in a couple of minutes our car was out of the muddle. They surprised us by charging a pittance for the benevolence.  

Divorced from the conventional idea of giving vehicles a forward push, those young guys instead gave the vehicle an alternate sideways lift to slide some shrubs underneath the tyres to secure a forward movement. It was no big deal, but why did it not occur to us? The whole point of jugaad is that it is never a big deal. No surprise, it is often said that common sense is often uncommon. But the point is that such a simple idea didn't occur to us but was borne in the minds of those who perhaps didn't drive themselves. To me it seems we are wired as an inbuilt cultural empathy to solve common problems, and to innovative solutions for the society at large.  

Ingenious ways of resolving societal problems come natural to us. It is thinking-out-of-the-box that is part of our cultural construct, and which while being taken as given remains grossly undervalued too. In a capitalist system, the value of a service lies in it fitting into the accepted norms of convenience. So be it. The 4.9 kilometre Bogibeel bridge over Brahmaputra, opened in 2018, has created convenience of movement like never before, cutting down on distance and travel time across the river. The ferry ecosystem that we briefly partnered with has run out of business since then. 

That the imposing bridge has distanced people from the river to which they belonged for their livelihoods and survival remains nobody's business. Over time, it is such convenient distancing that brews apathy among communities towards the(ir) river.

First published in The Hindu on July 25, 2021.

69. An adornment of unbreakable feelings

The Mohenjo-daro Girl

In these times of overwhelming stillness, nostalgia revives itself like baggage moving on a carousel. With not much demand on time, one begins to notice each of the moving baggage for its designs and colors to create a kaleidoscope in mind, which sends me on memory trail when the bangle-seller - churriwala - used to come calling to charm the young ladies and pull all of them out from their closet into the courtyard. The ensuing mini-celebration of the kind would curate many eyeball moments for youngsters like me. Much would get shared without a word being spoken, bangles being the romantic medium for the lucky few!  

Such occasions used to extend temporary escape for suppressed emotions, creating naughty moments of youthful exuberance. Lyricists have rarely let such moments wither away by trapping it into musical compositions that resonate for life. तेरे हाथों में पहना के चूड़ियाँ के मौज बंजारा ले गया (By squeezing bangles onto your wrist, the bangle seller had all the fun) from film Jaani Dushman (1979) clears misconceptions about the churriwala overstepping into the love birds' domain. Unspoken words get musical wings!  

Bangles have adorned women since antiquity, and may remain so for aeons. Ever since the alluring damsel with one armful of bangles and the second at her hip emerged from the Mohenjo-daro excavations (see pic), women's romance with bangles have only expanded through precious metals and exquisite glass. However, the collapse of imperialism and the triumph of capitalism have had the least of impacts on its tinkling presence in society. And, married women love bangles for the color distinctions that signify stages of blessedness.

The green is conspicuous for being virtuous, its colorful features vividly captured by Shailendra for the title song वादा लेंगी हरे काँच की चूड़ियाँ (Green bangles will seek a promise) from the film Hare Kanch Ki Chudiyan (1967). While red bangles signify energy and prosperity, it is green that helps women make the most of good luck and fertility in their lives. Yellow bangles are meant for happiness, white is for new beginnings, and orange for success. The melodious voice of Asha Bhonsle captures the varying shades of churri through the life of a woman.   

The impact of pandemic notwithstanding, bangles have continued to jingle-jangle on slim wrists. However, like lipstick and underwear indices, economists haven't drawn any for bangles to assess its contribution to the economy. Should someone attempt it, bangles would surely be in the race for being a significant contributor to sustaining an informal economy that impacts the livelihoods of a sizable chunk of the population. Firozabad, Hyderabad, and  Moradabad are notable for making this cultural artifact a national phenomenon. 

More than a colorful ornament of feminine adornment, churri as a medium with multiple messages hasn't been adequately acknowledged. For veiled women the tinkling chime of bangles comes handy to direct coded messages in a joint family. In more neutral situations, the message is subtle but direct. Anand Bakshi's lyrical expression मेरे हाथों में नौ नौ चूड़ियाँ हैं (I have nine bangles on my wrist) carries a teasing invite to her trolling lover from Chandni (1989). The musical appeal of the song is enduring.

Churri has a socially demeaning side to it as well, Although the practice of breaking bangles by widows has largely been discontinued, the proverbially message that it is the end of a part of her life she cannot repair continues to haunt. दिल हूम हूम करे, घबराए (The beat of the heart is disturbing) poignantly captures the longing the woman feels for her lover in the film Rudaali (1993). It documents the disturbing ritual, and seeks the society to disband it. The sound ‘hoom hoom’ denotes the beating of the heart to that effect.

Bangles may have come to symbolize many stages of women's life, but men have not remained untouched by it either. Legendary poet Gopal Das Neeraj was inspired to equate churri with dil in his memorable song चूड़ी नहीं ये मेरा दिल है देखो देखो टूटे ना (Don't let it break, bangle is like my heart) for the film Gambler (1971). With a tinge of  philosophy, Neeraj found the shape of a bracelet akin to the cycle of life with no end or beginning. In fact, it is a rare tribute to the cultural artifact of all times. 

Predominantly made of glass, its inherent value lies in bangles being a breakable piece of feminine adornment that has evoked unbreakable feelings for poets and lyricists to weave magic of beauty, romance and enduring luck around it.  

(Press the highlighted text to view the song under reference)  

68. In quest for a good death

In this hour of gloom and doom, hope springs eternal in the human breast for a long life. Even amidst this unprecedented death dance, elders in the family do return my respectful bow with 'live a hundred years' blessings. And, there are friends, surprised by my unexpected call, who exclaim to this day - 'you'll live a hundred years'! Though momentarily, the feel-good wish triggers an optimism towards living a long life. There is no reason to play it down either. 

In fact, nobody ever does so. Instead those who first thought of it must have been hopeful of achieving the three-digit mark for humans. However, for most of our long history as a species, our average life expectancy was capped at about thirty-five years. Perhaps the inspiration of jumping it three times over may have come from the purported life of some mythical characters like the invincible Bhishma, who lived long enough to witness some 4-5 generations.    

In recent times, the island of Okinawa in Japan has the highest number of people over the age of 100, but average life expectancy is still some years behind. Yet, there is a case for rejoicing as Steven Johnson explains in his recent book 'Extra Life: A Short History of Living Longer' that between the Spanish flu of 1918 and the Covid pandemic of 2020 global life expectancy doubled to around seventy-two years. Humans gained thousands of extra days in the last hundred years. 

Far from finding people jumping with joy on gaining those extra days, the number of people feeling stressed and miserable have actually been on the rise. Ironically, the same elders who shower '100 years' blessings often wish for themselves an early exit from life. Why? Because seeing around they find that the extra years gained are mostly spent living with pain, disease, and dementia. For them, more years to life means an expansion of morbidity at a much higher cost. 

Past mid-seventies, my paternal aunt would plead a respectable exit from life each time I met her. While I dissuaded her from thinking so, she was clear in her mind that a profit-driven health-care system and a hole-riddled social safety net would do her no good for the rest of her life, With a hip bone fracture to contend with and an alarming blood sugar level to negotiate on a daily basis, the extra nine years she gained were indeed of misery, pain and neglect.   

No wonder, advancement in medical technology has increased life expectancy by only slowing down ageing which my aunt was hoping to avoid. Like most of her friends, she had desired an extended life with better overall health, and not age-induced disability. Even in a country like the US which spends the highest per capita on health care, the situation is no better as most people past seventy years of age don't wish to live longer than the current natural limits.   

Given that death is the most basic fact of life, there are a growing number of social networks (like Exit, Final Exit) in medically-advanced countries who advise people take a rational call to exit life. However, medical science is still uncertain about the right time for people to voluntarily exit from life. Although the subject of voluntary exit from life may be socially and politically controversial, what moral choice aged people have to escape a painful future? 

More than a bewildered predicament, this is reflective of the uncertain times we live in. Need it be said that the science of gerontology is nowhere close to squeezing ageing into an increasingly short period of life. So the message is that 'good life' has restrictions on time while there is an extended waiting period for getting the final call. It is no surprise, therefore, that despite sounding utterly distressing people now have a desire for 'good death'. 

Hasn't the pandemic shockingly demonstrated that as much as a good life, a good death is no less desirous? Amen!

First published in The Hindu, issue dated June 6, 2021. 

67. Even if you can't take it, you can't avoid being one

I recall how scheming we were in our younger days to send gullible on a 'fool's errand' to mark April 1, the most light-hearted day of the year when playing pranks and trying to get people to believe ridiculous things is universally accepted. From simple jokes to elaborate hoaxes, friends and relatives who consider themselves to be wise guard themselves from falling into the trap laid for them to be publicly declared 'fool'. Whatever the prank, the trickster would usually end up yelling to his victim - April Fool. 

It is one day when the fools gain some social recognition, but not without letting the so-called wise be under the illusion of having all the fun. Curiously, it has something about the time of the year that there is lightheartedness all around. The switch from winter to spring has been a time for celebrations across diverse cultures - the Romans had a festival named Hilaria, the Jewish calendar has Purim, and the Indians clown themselves with colors on Holi. So much for staying foolish once a while!

I am reminded how it had played differently on Iraq's erstwhile President Saddam Hussein though, who was at the receiving end of a rather cruel joke. April Fool was the code name of the double agent who had the last laugh in getting the dictator caught from his hiding. Come to think of it, it is one day in a year that reduces the contrast between the wise and the foolish - and let's the wise person know that s/he could easily be a fool at a given time.

The fool's day, April 1, is an old age tradition which caught popular imagination since calendar was reformed in France in 1564. Those who stubbornly clung to the old calendar system had jokes played on them. It caught on, and became a global ritual ever since. Such has been its popularity that even films were themed on the subject: the 1964 Saira Banu-Biswajeet starrer 'April Fool' had a song which continues to be played till this day, to mark the only day in the year for the fools. 

But there is something seriously amiss in our lives in recent times though. Playing pranks on April Fool's Day has become passé. Is it because our digitally obsessed world has saturated us with all kinds of silliness, more than what we can possibly process? Far from being a medicine, it has reduced laughter into a laughable hoax. Aren't we been bombarded by unscrupulous videos of people doing and advocating stuff that only makes us look anything but foolish. No one would like to look that way. Isn't it? 

My sense is that most people have become cautious to avoid being publicly fooled. They may have their reasons but I wonder if such protective approach to life makes them any wiser. Perhaps not, as it restricts us from being aware of our vulnerabilities and makes us less tolerant of the others' who outsmart us. Learning to laugh at yourself, it is said, is the simplest path to inner peace that helps us to be more resilient and kind. With this, I'm ready for any prank. Are you?

With all of us living in a fool's paradise why worry if there is just a day for being fooled! 

First published in Deccan Herald, issue dated April 1, 2021

66. Why the business of 'Gobar' doesn't matter?

The Gobar-Ganesh temple in Madhya Pradesh

It is four decades since the National Biogas Program was launched in 1981, but dung or gobar has been in the news for all the wrong reasons. Little has been done to salvage gobar that lies splintered on roads with cows foraging from the roadside dustbins. Considered an economic resource of immense cultural value, its colossal neglect has yet to catch the attention it deserves. Nothing could be more curious than such an abandonment of a resource that comes virtually free.                                                                  

Spotting dung (gobar) in the streets reminds me of political philosopher Jeremy Waldron who said 'things are not quite as they seem', which provides me with an illuminating example in what the bovine of the world drops first thing at dawn. It is the most stubborn and intractable truth of all times that one can't milk a cow without getting gobar as a gift. Much before the market could innovate 'buy one get one free' dictum, rural households were already adept to it as a grossly accepted norm ever since. 

No wonder, people learnt to live with gobar which is unceremoniously scattered almost everywhere. Like others, I do realize its ritual significance amidst cultural traditions but am concerned about its unfinished story plastered as cakes on village walls and as dung-pyramids dotting the landscape. Least said, a milk-nation is as much a gobar-country. Curiously, no one seems to have any obligation to turn things around on gobar despite some five million tons of which is on offer in the country on a daily basis.      

With its daily replenishment, gobar is a deceptively simple raw material that has shown immense conversion value. It's nutritive worth for crops and energy value as fuel runs into billions of rupees, worthy of making the market go bullish. In addition, gobar has intangible gains far too many to count with its climate-friendly credentials of trapping soil carbon only beginning to be realized. Billed as being anti-bacterial, anti-fungal, and thermally insulating, paint made out of it is the latest in the list of gobar virtues. 

Despite a growing list of virtues, one wonders why good ideas about gobar have lacked systematic promotion? Not really, as noted economist E F Schumacher had pulled it out from the near abyss by advising the government to get gas and manure out of it, through what became known as a biogas or gobar gas, in 1981. In the forty years that have gone by, not only has the ambitious program of building 12 million biogas units fell short of target by over seventy per cent but has more dysfunctional and defunct units to its credit. 

It may read like a fairy tale on unsuccessful attempts at quietude but gobar has continued to act like a periscope of ideas to tease creative minds. Like most bakery products, sun-baked dung cakes can now be ordered online. While placing an order be sure upfront on how you intend dealing with it! Perhaps, more attractive is the recent proposal by the Chhattisgarh government to buy gobar for Rs 2 per kilo at farmers doorsteps. Seemingly relevant, it seems a work-in-progress at unlocking the true value of gobar. Amen! 

I wonder why is it that when it comes to gobar we are neither truly empathetic nor fully prepared, only eager to chuck for the sake of making a new proposal. In the world of comfortable interiors, cultural seduction of popular idiom Gobar-Ganesh (meaning clumpsy or stupid) plays heavy on our psyche. Unless we alert ourselves from being lout in our dealing on gobar, both as a resource as well as an idea, the bovine droppings will continue to cast its proverbial gobar-ganesh impact on us. 

First published in the Outlook on June 27, 2021.