Match - 1

 'Again!' his coach's voice rang in his ears as he was mid air, crashing to the ground. As he hit the ground ear first, the ringing amplified in his head - again and again. He was not particularly gifted physically. Or mentally. By all means, he was just average. He'd been in this school 4 years now and hardly anyone in his class noticed him outside of the physical education class. And that was not because he was an athlete of repute. It was because he was the one who always lasted longest. Running, he wasn't first but he didn't stop the track halfway. Throwing, he always got it right the second time. Swimming, he always got the requisite laps in, even if he was behind the others. Wrestling and boxing, he was the partner of choice, because he rarely fought back, but took a lot of punishment without staying down for long.

'Ya gotta channel that grit into something else, kid!' his coach, Mr. Gold would say, trying to get him interested in taking up a sport over the others. He believed he had some kind of hidden potential, see. But no one knew. The kid wasn't interested in any of that. He just wanted to experience it all. Every punch from every one. Everything around him. He wanted to observe and learn. He wanted to take it all in and store in his head. Even he didn't know what he was doing all this for on some days. Maybe he was preparing for something. He just didn't know. But he kept at it, nonetheless.

'So, junior? How long did you last today? Did you make it to the end?' his father always asked the same question. The father had a very strict policy to see through things he started and hoped beyond hope that his son learnt the same. He love his son to the moon and back. He encouraged his son to talk about the problems he had at school. Thankfully, they didn't go beyond the occasional 'freak' some jock would yell at him out of jealousy for his stamina and endurance. He taught his son both things - to ignore and to stand up for himself. And son did. Anytime anyone threw a punch, he fended it off. He hadn't thrown one back, yet, for reasons he couldn't identify, but he made sure the other person knew he wouldn't take it lying. His name was Matt Singh and he was a warrior for as long as he could remember. 'We fight, son, because we want to inspire others to stand up for themselves'. Nothing more, nothing less'.

Jith was a truck driver. He drove during the day across states when his son was at school. He usually returned by the time Matt returned from the gym late evening everyday. His wife and Matt's mother, Jan died at childbirth. Jith remembered Jan's last words: Stay strong, for the both of you. On some days, when he thought back to the incident, weirdly enough, he thought she was maybe talking to their infant son and not him. He smiled to himself, musing at how his wife always made him smile, no matter what. He was running a little late that day; one too many traffic stops and over enthusiastic policemen looking to rip anyone under the excuse of DUI. Trying to recall if there was any food Matt could microwave, he leaned on the accelerator.

Matt got up, steadying himself from the imbalance the ringing in his ears caused. 'Put 'em up, kid. You know you still got more in you' Mr. Gold was an old fashioned man who always rooted for the underdog. The guy no one else saw any worth in. 'Yeah, come on, you freak'. Matt's opponent was edging him on, hoping to impress his girlfriend who was waiting outside the ring. Just as Matt got his fists up, he felt his opponent's training gloves connect with his forearms. The punch that previously knocked him to his feet now didn't feel heavy at all. He could feel the force of it dying the moment it hit connected. 'A perfect block' he thought to himself. His opponent was frustrated 'I just floored him with this punch, what the hell?'

Matt got ready for the next volley and come it did. His opponent was determined to knock him out, proving his superiority. The punches didn't faze Matt, unsurprisingly. It was always this way. The second time was always in his favor. It was only the first that hurt him. Mr. Gold was eyeing Matt with pride. 'That was good, kid. Now why don't you throw a punch for once, eh? Come on. A fight is more than just defending, ya gotta show the other guy he has to stay away from you!' Before he could take a decision, the fist connected again. This time, it was above his eye. 'You think you're better than me? you can't even throw a punch! You're no good' his opponent spat at him and walked away. Any other day, he would've let it slide, but today he felt different. Something was eating at him, trying to breakout. And he was going to let it out. He was going to throw a punch, finally. 'Gong!' Mr. Gold shouted, stepping in between the two. Tuck, good show. Stop getting so damn carried away. Learn to read your opponent. Matt, learn to throw a bloody punch, kid. Or you're going to be stepped on your whole life. Even if you can take it, doesn't mean you should. We'll meet tomorrow, now scoot! Mr. Gold was a punctual man and he closed his gym at the same time everyday. Matt wiped the blood off from above his eye and got changed. Realizing his dad wasn't there to pick him up, he started his walk home. It was a little far but he was used to the route. 'Maybe I'll get a nice run in on my way back' he thought, breaking into a brisk jog.

'Are you alright? Thank god there was no collision! I don't know how this happened, glad no one got hurt, right?' Jith had narrowly avoided a crash a few blocks away from his place. Since their place was close to the state border, the traffic was a little unruly. His truck had narrowly missed colliding with another and he was just glad no one got hurt. The people in the other car just got out. It was two guys, probably returning from a booze run, based on the swagger in their walk. 'Yo, you almost killed us man, what the hell?' 'Hey, you said almost. We good?' 'You think that's going to fix this? All my booze is spilled. You going to pay for that?' 'That's not my fault. You're clearly drunk. Just walk away, man' 'You telling me what to do, man? Hey, what'd we do to the last guy who tried that?' 'Oh yeah, that was neat, dude. So, you going to pay for our booze, man?' 'Son, walk away. I don't want any trouble. I almost lost control of my truck, you were drunk. How about we call it even and have a good night? This is a busy center, who knows when the cops might walk in?' 'Did you just threaten me, man? Oh, now you are definitely paying me my money back!' The two of them rushed at Jith, pounding away at the forearms he'd put up to defend himself. He could feel what was going to happen, with the force of each blow making him clench his fists a little less tighter.

Another 5 minutes and he'd be home. Matt was making good time on his run and was looking forward to reaching home and fixing dinner for his dad. Maybe some chicken - his train of thought was interrupted by grunts and jeers. There were a couple of people assaulting someone. He was curious as to who would be so brazen on this busy road. 'I should probably call the police' he wanted to get some proof before the police could dismiss his complaint. But once he got closer, he saw what was happening. 'Get up, dad!' he yelled, as he jumped in, trying to fend the blows off. 'You got a kid, old man? This just got interesting!' They turned their attention to Matt, giving Jith a brief respite from the violence. Jith was trying to sit up and get his bearings, his ringing ears and misty eyes getting in the way of understanding who it was bought him those few moments.

Matt was having trouble guarding against two people. The pain wasn't as much, fortunately. As usual, after the first blow, he felt little pain. But he couldn't do anything but guard. 'Junior! What are you doing?' Jith just came to his senses. 'Get out of here!' 'Why do we fight, dad? Why do we fight?' 'You think you can just talk? Here comes the big one!' A kick with the weight of a full grown man landed in Matt's stomach, knocking his breath out and throwing him a few feet away. This hurt. Groaning, he got up. 'Leave my dad alone!' 'So the kid can take a few hits more than his old man. Big surprise. See if you can take this, you punk' he charge at Matt rabidly. 'It's not a fight if you just defend, junior. Why don't you try throwing a punch instead of defending?' He thought back to the ring with Tucker. How he had almost thrown a punch. He visualized the same feeling again and did it. He threw a punch. His first ever with the conviction to actually hit his opponent.

His fist connected, but not with flesh. With steel. Apparently, one of his assailants was wearing a glove with a metal plate in it. 'Agh! Matt pulled his fist back in pain.His assailant was clutching his fist in agony. 'What did you do, you freak?' Matt saw just then - he had dislocated the attacker's wrist and now it was causing him agony. But if he was strong enough to punch through a metal plate, why did his fist hurt so much? He didn't have much time to ponder over that thought because he could see the other guy run back to the car and pull something out. A baseball bat made of metal. 'You're done for now, I'm going to beat your brains in with this'. 'Matt, remember. It's not a fight if you don't throw a punch' Jith's words fell on deaf ears, since Matt was already charging at his assailant.

Matt felt his fist connect with the metal bat. He should've felt pain. He should've broken or at least dislocated his wrist, punching a lump of solid metal as hard as he did. But he didn't feel any of that. He felt a brief amount of pressure when his fist connected with the bat and then a screams and whimpering. The next thing he saw, the two attackers were climbing back into the car and running away. 'Dad, you okay? Dad!' Matt rushed to Jith. 'Yeah, I'm fine, junior. Just a few scratches and bruises, no more. Let's go home.' 'Sure, let me help you up'. As they walked back, Jith spoke up 'When did you get so jacked?' Matt saw his arm and took a few minutes to identify it. It was a muscular

Break the Silence on Rote Learning

The story that follows is based on things that transpired in the lives of millions; the inhuman things that are still happening every day to the future of our world. The stage is between 2005 and 07, in a city in Andhra Pradesh, with the point of focus being the life of a 16 year old who left home for the first time in his life to further his studies.

The day started late for him. He was always an early riser but he was determined to not let it go to waste. He wanted to have a productive day for once. ‘Your life is the sum total of the choices you take towards realizing your goals’ he voiced the poster at the foot of his bed, before going to freshen up. ‘Walk out, you lazy scum!’ he heard the grating, domineering voice of the supervisor shout outside his room. He steeled his resolve to walk into the washroom that hadn’t been cleaned in a week now and did his business. ‘As long as you can leave this place at the end of 2 years with a good score, nothing else matters’. So he kept silent.

As he walked downstairs to attend the classes for the day, he noticed the usual sombre tone and dour expressions on everyone. Their classes started at 6 AM. And they had classes and study sessions till 11 PM. This was their every day, all year. The years during which they had to be trained in the ways of the world, build their personalities, develop their interests and gain experience in dealing with all kinds of people were being filled with one and only directive – ROTE LEARNING. And they were forced to stay silent, lacking a voice to state their concerns.

Parents want their kids to be great people. They want them to be successful and happy. They want their kids to receive acknowledgements from their peers and the world for their achievements. And they invest their sweat, blood and tears into preparing their kids for the world. But then why do they admit their kids in institutes where the only priority is the institute? Why do they tell their kids to be silent no matter what cruelties are perpetrated against them?

I shall not name those “institutions”, for we all know them. In my state alone, there are more than a 50 of such what I call Internment camps? Let me tell you the living conditions in these so called educational institutes – An apartment designed for a family of 5 sees 24 people crammed into it. Some of them are given a bed in the kitchen, for god’s sake! Water is supplied thrice during the day, irrespective of the students’ needs 5:30 to 6:00 AM, 12:30 PM to 2:00 PM and 10:00 PM to 11:00 PM. But the occupants keep silent, realizing they lacked the power to do anything. Anything they say is lodged as a transgression and they’re subjected to physical punishment, after all.

The city in context is known for being sweltering hot, with temperatures averaging 40⁰C year round. Summers in particular see highs of 46. And even with such inhuman conditions, the classrooms in which the students are housed were not properly built, with makeshift roofs that provided no protection against the heat. In the afternoons, some of the students were made to sit outside with nothing over their heads just so the college could save a few pennies on the electricity bill. The poor souls kept silent.

As he was mulling all these things over, he reached class. They could see their professor was already there. As they entered the class one after another, the supervisor glared at all of them, asserting his absolute dominance over anything and everything they had the choice to do. Believe it or not, one of the supervisors on campus was a convicted felon who had returned from spending 6 months in the jail the previous year. And these were the people who tasked with ‘overseeing’ how the students studied. All these supervisors were folks who had hardly cleared their schooling themselves. They were no more than the goons you would see in movies who misbehave with people. But the students stayed silent, for they knew this was the price they were told to pay for getting what was touted as the best education before they started their specializations during under graduation.

As the class for the day started, he got to thinking – these are 16 year olds like me, who’ve left home to come build their future. And this is how they’re being treated? Like they’re cattle the institute rears till the inadvertent ‘harvest’ of the exams comes around? The institute cares not one bit for our aptitude and unique capabilities. It tells us only one thing- Mug it all up; the entire text book and the additional study material. And in the exam, don’t think, just vomit it all on the paper and hope for the best. Not one day have been taught to approach the problems with a unique problem solving approach. Not once! If all we are doing is being forced to learn the text book by heart, why are we in an educational institution for that? The subject that day was Zoology. The professor was going to teach us about various ecosystems. But before he could internalize what the concept of an ecosystem truly meant, he would be yelled at by the exceptionally under-qualified supervisor to copy what was in the text book into their ‘practice notes’ enough times to parrot it out in his sleep. But he stayed silent, for he knew the supervisors were stronger than him.

The subject he chose was biology. In Zoology alone, he would have to be instructed in the dissection procedures of various insects and fauna before it was his turn to wield a scalpel on a cadaver without passing out. He wanted to become a doctor. If he had to be comfortable with cutting into human flesh, he needed to prepare by starting with other less personal beings, but that was not part of the curriculum! The college did not care! But he stayed silent like those around him, realizing they had no alternative.

In the meantime, they rang the bell to signal breakfast was ready. Of everything on that measly excuse for a human settlement, he feared the food the most. For every time he lifted his head up, he could see the area in which the vegetables were chopped and cooked. That place was 6 feet away from the public washrooms. If you had the stomach to watch, you could see the flies that flitted between the washrooms and vegetables. But they all stayed silent, since every time they requested for more hygienic conditions they were met with the trademark ‘no preferential treatment, you entitled little lout!’ speech.

One day, there was a massive uproar the other side of the campus. We all ran out to see what was happening. A brief inquiry laid it out: Apparently one of the oh-so-well qualified supervisors had bad mouthed a whole class’ parents by comparing them to livestock bred for the fun of it, and they lashed back, asking him to address their parents with respect. Of course, the supervisor couldn’t reprimand everyone in the class, so he took to making an example of one unfortunate soul. He took the kid by the scruff of his neck and hit his head against the bench that resulted in a loud bang. He then lifted the dazed boy by his collar and slapped him around a few minutes, yelling how the kids were supposed to just keep their heads down and kowtow to any and every instruction. This action of unbridled violence was enough to snuff out any further thought of breaking our silence. We went back in to study, equal parts angry, worried and scared.

He thought long, that night. Is that kid who got brutalized fine? Have his parents been notified? Why did the rest of us not break our silence on what was happening? Are we going to be subjected to the whims of these madmen in similar fashion in the future? Why did these institutions come up in the first place? He was a kid without any experience and knowledge of the world, so he could just resign himself to his fate. He went back to sleep at the instructed time, lest he have to bear the supervisor’s brutalities the next day. He spent the whole two years without breaking the silence.

Some of the kids from that college of 553 people went on to achieve their goals in life, some gave up due to the undue pressure and some just changed their goals, realizing they did not want to live a life bound to authorities like the ones that let their ‘college’ exist. A decade later, the kid drove past his old college and got to thinking again. Why do such places even exist? Places filled with exploitation, cruelty and greed. This time, he had an answer: We let them. When the first such college popped up, we should have stamped it out, telling them we did not need such uncivilized means to educate our kids. We should have realized they would kill the inquisitiveness and curiosity that made people want to get up in the morning. But we did not. At least now, let us Break the Silence! Let us strive for better education for our future generations, one that encourages creativity, a love for learning, and nurtures free thinking. Break. The. Silence.

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Immortality

November 2015, when I was working in Delhi. It was a time when I was going through a lot of revelations in life and taking a lot of strong decisions. One of them was the proverbial question: What do I want out of this life?

I originally thought it an easy question. A good job that would help me take care of my family.. A life partner I could love and cherish. And a lightsaber, if science would only be so kind, one day. A couple of months passed and I moved back home. I was speaking to my grandpa about the time I spent in Delhi and what it had done to me. I spoke to him about what I decided I wanted in life and he was very happy. "Not a lot of people figure this out in life, child. It's good that you have" was all he said before he went on to talk about our family and his forefathers. He spoke to me about his great-grandfather, a man known for going around the country, spending time with well educated pandits and helping them in whatever way he could. And then, it hit me.

This was a man who walked the earth 6 generations ago. And we were still talking about him. Granted, we knew not his personal life, only the deeds that made him immortal in our memories. Then it struck me. The good deeds of a man from almost two centuries ago have kept him alive till now. And he will live on through my memories now, won't he? And through his deeds, he has achieved immortality. The concept of this stuck with me. And a few days later, I spoke to my grandfather about the same. His answer was very simple. "Greatness isn't the same for all of us. Not everyone has to live their lives large. You decide what you want to do with your life. And you decide what greatness means to you." And then, I did. After I'm long gone, if at least one person on this earth remembers me with fondness in their heart and a warm smile on their face, I must have lived a good life. But this story isn't about my goals. It's about immortals.

I attribute a lot of my traits to what I learnt during my teens during high school. And my high school can be defined by 3 things: Dr. N. Manjula Krishnamohan, our English teacher, Mr. K. Phani Kumar, our maths teacher and Quizzing. I've studied in 5 different institutions. I've attended a number of coaching centers for miscellaneous exams. Never have I come across an instructor quiet as complete as the aforementioned Dr. N. Manjula Krishnamohan.

Manjula ma'am, like I mentioned previously, taught us English. I knew her beyond school, since her husband was a doctor and my dad was one too. Because of that, I got extra scrutiny on what I did at school. Fortunately, I was a good student. But when it came to English, I was an exceptional student. I was encouraged to embrace the language as wholly as possible at a young age and because of that, I came to love the language, as well as the subject. She realized this and always encouraged my pursuit of the language. I picked up Shakespeare at a very young age; 7th class to be exact, when my father had ordered the complete unabridged set of Shakespeare's 36 plays from the India Today Book Club. She didn't question me why. She didn't reprimand me that it was beyond our curriculum or age. She told me, "read it with passion; read it with concentration; keep in mind that everything about the works is a few centuries old".

A lot of people laud me for my skill and dexterity with the English language. They tell me my grammar is impeccable, or my sentence formation is flawless; or that the way I play with words leaves a lot to be learnt from; or that my pronunciation of words is perfect. And in every single one of such commendations lies my gratitude for our English teacher, Manjula ma'am. If you know me well, you would've heard me say I wanted to become an English teacher when I was younger. Even now, one day, I want to be a teacher. At least a part time one. Manjula ma'am is one of the reasons. She never 'taught' us English. She made us want to learn it! She instilled a love and a thirst for delving deep into the language and making it our own! She taught us more than just a subject. Not to take anything away from any other teacher of ours, but she taught us what a teacher truly meant.

A teacher nurtures their students in every sense of the word. And that is what she did for us. She taught us not because we had a subject to be covered. She taught us because she believed in each of us and wanted to prepare us to realize our ambitions once we left our school. And I like to think she did more than her share towards the same. Like I mentioned earlier, I was scrutinized a little more since she knew my parents personally. She always gave me the same feedback. "Why is it that your answers are so good but your writing makes it so difficult to read them? Think about it- what you say is just as equally important as how you say it!"

Not just I, but our whole class of Akshara '05 and many before us will attest to her greatness. She was a house master for one of the 4 houses we had at school. They used to tell us how she encouraged them to pursue extracurricular activities with just as much zeal as academics. Whenever we had a school level event, she was always the master of ceremonies. For me, she was the first person I ever aspired to be. A teacher. A role model.

I like to think I was a good student of hers beyond school. The discipline she helped us cultivate, the zeal to pursue excellence, the commitment to our goals, all of these were ingrained into her teachings. And when I thanked her for the great things she did for us, she brushed them aside, saying it was her privilege that she got to teach us. She spoke with great regret how the teaching profession was corrupted by over reaching parents and money hungry corporate entities. I remember her words verbatim "The days of the teacher are gone now, Anirudh. I wouldn't want you to have that as a life goal anymore. We are now forced to do what the management says, like mindless automatons. We are not allowed to tailor our teaching methods to what would benefit the students more, nowadays". It's a good thing you kids got out when you did!

And yesterday, my dad tells me she passed, all of a sudden. I'm someone who knows loss. I've lost friends and family over the years. But never has the passing of someone struck me as deeply as that of the teacher who taught me my core values. Whenever something large happened in my life, I've always imagined telling ma'am and getting her blessings. But now that she is with us no more, I can only pray I don't lose the essence of what she has taught me. She was my teacher. She was my guru. She was my inspiration. She is going to be remembered for ever more as the lady who helped me build a good life. She is an immortal.

 

Thank you, Manjula Ma'am, for seeing fit to educate me in English and the world. You will always be the teacher I strive to one day become.

Languages, Teachers and Language teachers.

August 29th is the international Telugu day. And on that occasion, I now introduce you all to the exemplary beings that were my Telugu teachers during schooling.

Teachers don't just introduce us to subjects. They introduce us to whole worlds that we can fall in love with. This is their story.

It was in my fourth standard, quite a few years ago that I remember my first Telugu teacher, Mrs. Manjula. Though I do not remember what was taught that day but I remember her very vividly. And that is because she was one of the four reasons our class fell in love with Telugu beyond just as a medium of communication. She was the first of four Telugu teachers we had across our schooling.

Fifth standard, day one. We had an assembly for the whole school every day. And on that day, we saw one of our Telugu teachers being felicitated for an award he received in Telugu literature. Though it would be three years more before we were taught by this Mr. Chandrasekar Rao, we knew to take pride in the fact that our beloved instructor and our own Telugu were recognized.

During standards six and seven, we had two instructors; Mr. Shankar Rao and Mr. Neela Rao. They blew us away with their knowledge of the variety in Telugu words and the many ways in which we could utilize them. They are the reason my classmates and I became at least a little aware of the dearth of literary treasures Telugu offers. These instructors introduced us to many literary works in Telugu - The purity of the Panchatantra stories, the morals from the Puranas, the wisdom from the Ramayana and Mahabharata and many many more.

Classes nine and ten saw us taught by Mr. Chandrasekhar Rao, a man who's skill in teaching us the many complex modalities of Telugu grammar was extraordinary!

Unfortunately, Telugu wasn't a part of my curriculum post my tenth standard. But the lessons learnt during school stuck with me. Because what they taught us was more than just the language. They taught us the traditional Telugu way of life and the beautiful approach to life the Telugu culture offers.

I can still recall the first time we were taught the way to address our Telugu teachers in Telugu. It was in the sixth standard. That was then that they taught us unadulterated Telugu words for some of the daily use words. We were taught at a young age the difference between the Telugu we use in every day life and the original Telugu that was borne of Sanskrit. Every time they taught us a new concept, we could see their love of the language and their commitment to our education.

Truth be told, I'm an English language aficionado. So much so that I wanted to grow up to be an English language professor during my younger years. But the Telugu instruction we received was so wholesome, that we never considered any language inferior to the other.

I've mentioned the Panchatantra stories earlier, yes? They were written in five parts, out of which we were taught one as our Telugu non-detailed. But we were taught so well that I developed an interest in the entirety of the Panchatantra and came back after our summer vacation having read all the five parts. Though I took a few raps on the head for interrupting our teachers with my over-eagerness, they did realize that their instruction was indeed inculcating in us a love of Telugu and its rich literature.

Similarly, in our seventh standard, we had a poem that described the beauties of the Indian holy city Varanasi through the words of a sage who was out on a moonlit night by the banks of Ganges river. The way the city, the bliss of the flowing river, the peace of the sand dunes shining in the light of the moon were described still is a fond and immensely vivid memory. That is the quality of their instruction.

The pinnacle of our Telugu education came in our final school years, where we had a legendary Telugu novel 'Barrister Parvateesam' as our Telugu non-detailed text book. The novel is set in pre-independence India that laid out the comical situations that a  village man faced following his decision to go to the U.K. to study law. The way we were explained his innocence in deciding what he would need to survive in London, how he thought a simple 500 rupees would be enough for his journey and many other such situations made us fall in love with the novel so much that for a few days, our class neglected other subjects!

If I were to attributed all the credit for my love and respect of Telugu to my teachers, I would be lying. Our school administration also encouraged us to embrace the wide variety Telugu literature offered and many unique practices to it, like 'Avadhaanam'. Avadhaanam is a practice of unparalleled intellectual display in which one man is questioned by multiple people, numbering anything between 8 - 1000, all at the same time which he answers on the spot. In my eight standard, we were given the experience of this intellectual event, wherein the school invited the renowned Mr. Garikapati Narasimha Rao, a man known for his feat of successfully facing 1000 people at once in this 'Avadhaanam'. The pride we felt when we were informed that this intellectual practice was unique to Telugu, is unparalleled.

Though we do not remember the intricacies of Telugu grammar our teachers taught us, we remember the richness of Telugu literature, the beautiful outlook to life and holistic approach to everything. 'Mother tongue' was coined to address the language one is affiliated with on birth because, if you ask me, our mothers teach us the value of life and languages teaches us how to live by opening doors to the rich culture and tradition it represents.

A few parting words: Be proud of your language, for it is more than just a communication medium. It is how you communicate your soul to your family and loved ones!

Compassion

Compassion, kindness and respect. These are the most fundamental values any human expects in the way people treat him. But when it comes to treating others, man becomes exceptionally stingy with these! And replaces these with cruelty, apathy and spite. All because he believes he can get away with it. Humans were once a race known for treating their fellow man the way they themselves would rather be treated. But today, they'd do just about anything to their fellow man. Which would also be fine if we rationalized with "Well, he might just be getting his desserts". But the true issue is when man exposes nature to his cruel devices.

I would like to call your attention to mankind's most recent and unfortunately not the worst low - a pregnant elephant that wandered into human settlements being fed explosives just for the fuck of it. Even after the fireworks went off, the elephant did not cause any trouble for any of the humans, but walked around and eventually rested in a pond till it died.

Oh, you unhappy people. Can one of you, any of you, provide a case, no matter how fictional or far fetched, in which this behavior makes sense? No. You bloody can't. Not even the creator himself would be able to explain this unprecedented amount of cruelty. If God were to visit humanity now, he would hang his head in shame of his children's acts against their siblings. Just because we are a few grey cells heavier than other species, what gives us the right to lord over them and act as if their lives are ours to control? The people who perpetrated this atrocity are true examples of the scum of humanity.

This crime against nature is much worse than anything ever done to a human; for the very simple reason that in spite of everything, the elephant did not even know to fight back. It was confused as to why it was rewarded with pain for its peaceful behavior. A few days ago, a dolphin was tortured in another part of our 'oh so morally rich' country. I am truly aghast at this blatant display of inhumanity.

Throughout history, man's quarrel has been with his fellow man for the damnedest of reasons. But now, why does it feel like man has it out for the most harmonious things in all of creation? -  Dolphins and Elephants, to list a few. Even in these troubling times where the entire world has slowed down, man's cruelty, apparently, has found new gears. 

'Impulses do not a man make'. This is a lesson I learned very recently. Which is true. We are defined by our values and our actions. But I find it hard to believe that humans, bestowed with rational thought, are actually capable of such calculated cruelty. Against their fellow man, sure. Man has axiomatically proven his ability for apathy, antipathy and disdain for his fellow man. I mean, woe befall to me for questioning that. But against animals that don't even fight back? What is wrong with us? Where have we gone wrong?

A friend of mine says mankind has overstayed its welcome in creation. For the first time, I'm thinking her thought process has some merit. For once, I will not posit a solution. For I myself am not sure if humanity is capable of recovering from this act of brutality.  In fact, I do not want mankind to recover from this wound. I want it to become an infected, scabbed itch that forever reminds us that we are not fit to claim free will and a healthy conscience if we do not prevent acts of violence against helpless creatures.

If we cannot stop from reigning our violent impulses against such gentle creatures, maybe we did not ever deserve to crawl out of that primordial soup, after all.

Clarion call

Fair warning, dear reader, for this will be a story of quite some length; but stick with it and you will learn something, for this is a story relevant to mankind for now and all time.

ఏ జాతి చూసినా ఏమున్నది గర్వకారణం,
నర జాతి సమస్తం పరపీడన పరాయణత్వం

What is history, but a tale of exploiting one's neighbor?

These words by a Telugu poet, the legendary Srirangam Srinisavasarao, capture human nature better than any other set of adjectives. All the stories we hear of valor, take root in one trying to unjustly claim someone else's right. Even works of fiction speak of one man's avarice  for another's right. So today I wish to address the assault of mankind on the world and his neighbors.

Right now, the world is battling the Covid-19 pandemic. And in doing so, we have confined ourselves to our homes, leaving the world to the grace of the elements and mother nature. And as a friend of mine quoted, thanks to this lock-down worldwide, the world has gotten its first breather since the industrial age. And we've seen what this 'recess' can do. Dolphins returning to marinas, animals gracing civilization, clear skies like never before and the pollution levels at an all-time low in almost half a century.

We can see how countries are working together and cooperating to beat this epidemic on both humanitarian and medical levels. Let us now ask ourselves - When has humanity last stood united against anything? In the past century alone we have waged wars that scarred the earth till the end of time and experienced ethnic purges at a biblical scale. A few nationalities suffered irreversible damage while others languished in the wealth borne of that depravity. Humanity has faced worse catastrophes before, but never on a global scale. Who knew all we needed to band together was to experience the pain of being wiped out ourselves and not some country in some corner of the world?

So, let me ask you - What does all this mean? I am not going to give you an expose on the spread of Covid or the extent of the fight against it. There are enough of those already. I will, however, posit what humanity could stand to gain from this 'crusade' against Covid.

A vast majority of the world has been confined to the indoors for quite some time now, yes? A month or more, in the least. This is a whole month of recess from the lives we've been striving to improve since the time of cavemen. All the scuttling about, all the unbridled agitation to reach some place, all that we have strived to 'perfect' - The outside, in one word, is now inaccessible due to an organism we can't even see. The very same organism that has grown up in the womb of mother earth like all of Homo Sapiens. All the money, all the power, all the superiority, all the nuclear weapons in the world and we are brought to our knees by a simple virus.

Do ask yourself, what does this mean? Interpret it however you will and must, but I interpret it thus:

Mankind has been blind and foolish all this while. The so called 'progress' has only served to blind us to what truly matters. And that is compassion, empathy and unity. Nothing more. That. Is. All. Let me elaborate:

Going back to the beginning of this post, if we look at history, all we can see is bloodshed. In the name of religion, caste, greed, power, lust, even. None of those wars have actually helped humanity in any manner except serve as an example of what we should not aspire to be. Of course, the effectiveness of that withholding, the 'lesson' is what they represent.

A friend of mine rightly said 'these few months is the first break we've given Mother Earth since the advent of the industrial age'. I dare you to come up with a more positive description of the current circumstances. Man's core is greed. It's not sleep, feed and procreate anymore. The man of today is defined by his avarice. Gone are the days where one is happy with what he has earned or been given. Gone are the days of simple joy in one's neighbor's success. Gone are the days of exemplars of human virtue. Today, we can list more examples of those who represent the scum of human society rather than those who represent a better tomorrow. And what is worse, many of such people are in positions of power, with the authority to decide the lives of millions. Ask yourself, what has all this come to?

Today, everyone is confined to their basest rights, those of food and shelter. No more going out to flaunt what you believe makes you God's only gift to mankind. The only thing we're left with, is each other and how we take care of each other in this crisis. We hear stories of doctors working for days at end; activists braving lynching to help the infected. Of public servants braving assaults to maintain order. But, as all things, we will most conveniently forget the calamity once it passes and go back to living as degenerates who exploit one another if they know they can get away with it.

 Tell me, how many accounts have you seen of 'holy men' taking to the media to claim this disease is an act of god for retribution against mankind's way of life? I mean, I thought they were 'messengers of God'. Do we not call God our father? No matter the religion, don't they all say we're descended of the creator himself? What sort of a father tortures his kids so? No! This is not an act of God. This is humanity's greed come to collect its due. This is an opportunity for us to learn that when the dust settles, all our hubris and ego are worth less than the trash humans so conveniently claim those who disagree with them to be.

Right now, out there, imagine there's a country that decides to flout all the rules of the lockdown and ends up accelerating the spread of the disease. Can you be sure that behavior won't cause a chain reaction, ending in a global catastrophe? The only reason society has not delved into chaos, is because we still have some faint, lingering light of compassion, empathy and unity for our fellow man that is telling us to not totally denounce morality and common sense.

 I will say it loud and clear: Once humanity survives Covid, we all have to change. Remember the spirit with which we fought the infection off. Remember the heroes whom you did not expect to rise. Remember the fools who serve as gleaming examples of 'what and how not to be', most of all. And use that to treat your fellow man better, instead of lusting over what is not rightfully yours. Use that to appreciate that which nature has to offer, instead of relentlessly assaulting her for more. Use this experience to right the injustices done. Use this experience to usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for mankind, in place of the one we've had so far, filled with hate, fear and violence.

 The earth is our home and all mankind are our family. Neither is above the rest so don't ever treate someone in a way you yourself wouldn't want to be treated.

Remember, oh you, who's made it to the end of what probably sounds like a lecture from someone on a moral high horse, that your life is only the sum of how you're remembered and what for. So leave a legacy of compassion, empathy and unity, not one of exploitation, violence and greed.

 "This too, shall pass"

Shoes and Feet

'The shoe's never going to be on the other foot. You take care' is all she said as she walked away, leaving him to mull over what she said. They'd known each other for 8 years now. She'd been the imaginative half while he was the analytical. They were the thickest of friends and the proverbial partners in crime.

The two of them had a definitive dynamic that defined them to one another. He'd bring problems, she'd solve them. He was wise and optimistic, she was experienced and realistic. They were against the world, together. That was how he saw it. But she knew the reality, that the world wasn't out to get him. He was in the trenches, always out for the next battle, while she was fighting her battles as they came, taking stock of the peace between one and the next. In another world, they would never have met, but in this, providence saw fit to make their paths cross. And so began their journey.

'You know, I've always had this theory about the two sexes. Want to hear it?' 'You have a theory. So groundbreaking. What's next, a rant about the bad weather?' She had a way of acknowledging and putting him in his place at the same time. It was one of the reasons the two of them functioned as friends. 'I just wanted your opinion, geez!' 'Both of us know you'll state it anyway and I'll analyze it anyway, so why the foreplay? Shoot.

'There is a core tenet for each of the sexes. For men, it's about power. They want to be the strongest, sharpest needle, be it in front of their friends or god forbid, their partner. And then the fairer sex, for them, it's about ego. Who satisfies their ego matters to them. They appreciate those who can cater to it and understand their soul. What's sad is, though these tenets by themselves are innocent, their influence or appeasement is what causes trouble.' 'I sense a continuation, don't give yourself a pause. You're not delivering a monologue.' He rolled his eyes 'You don't appreciate my natural showmanship, do you? Your loss.' He continued 'A man could use his drive to be the absolute pinnacle; to improve himself and help those around him, but instead, he uses that to feed his insecurities and act out against those around him for not recognizing him. And women, their hope of finding someone who'll understand the minutiae of their psyche is contorted by those would hold them as nothing but objects, and that results in the abominations that are gold diggers and cheats. Of course, these tenets cross genders, but for the most part, men are driven by a power trip and women by their egos.'

'You really did deliver a monologue. Just had to, huh?' 'It's just how I speak.' 'Right. Before I give you my two cents on this, I must ask. I can tell this isn't something you concocted overnight. Why now?' 'Because I wanted to understand if I'm doing things right.' 'So, your usual reason?' 'Like there'd be any other.' They were having this discussion in the midst of cooking their dinner. He'd almost burnt the pancakes. Almost. It was snowing outside and neither of them had the energy to start cooking afresh. Thanking his fortune, he gingerly picked the batter up and started on the next one, vowing under his breath to be more careful.

'I more or less know what experiences drove you to form this, 'hypothesis', let's call it. So, I won't question your belief of it. I will, however address the 'why' behind it. Why would you want to generalize men and women? Are you out to create some sort of a relationship guide? If you are, I don't want to know. What you said about men is more true than what you said about women. Men are more insecure than women are deceiving. I'm not saying that's how all the men and women are, no. For every gold digger/deceiver out there, there are more than willing insecure man-children trying to get into the pants of anything that moves.' 'Do I sense some hostility?' 'I thought you didn't interrupt people'. He knew to shut up when she was on a serious roll.

'Of course your point wasn't who's what and how much. It's about why they're so. It's simple, men have always been touted as the alphas throughout history. They were the gatherers, kings and explorers. Women, on the other hand, had things done for them. There have been exemplars who have risen above their definition to tell the world they're more than housewives, of course. But the vast majority are led by the mindset to have things done. Now look at that independently, and tell me what you think.' 'As in?' 'Just because she wants things done, do you define that to mean she can't do things herself?' 'Of course not! Those are two different things!' 'And therein lies the problem. Just because someone is asking for help, you don't label them incompetent of doing that themselves.' Now do tell, is that what you thought?'

The last sentence made him think, but before he could answer, the kettle went off, distracting him. He rushed to switch the burner off, still pondering his rationale behind attributing ego as a tenet to women. He looked at her, and he had his answer. 'My answer lies in my actions. Have I ever treated you as anything but an equal? I help you but only when I think you could use it. And I don't believe I'm in the wrong for that.' 'In our case, sure. But what of your grand unified theory of the sexes? Hmm? And then, it hit him. In his endeavor to understand the sexes better, he'd generalized them according to a poor stereotype his interpretation would inadvertently lead to.

The pancake was done, and it was perfect. 'How are you so patient with me and everything I ask?' 'Because of your actions.' was all she said, as she reached for the syrup. He sat across her, wondering what if. She read his mind. 'Don't'. 'Why not?' 'Because just because it works, doesn't mean you use it.' 'I'm not saying we should be a couple, no. We know our lives are already going different directions and we can't be together. We know it won't work.' 'Then why the puppy dog eyes?' 'I was just reexamining what I felt for this girl-'. 'Stop right there. I know this script. "Why won't she reciprocate?" Isn't that the gist of it?' 'How well you know me'.

'It isn't that anymore. If it isn't, it just isn't. I get that. But imagine this: There's a person at a table. Sitting across are two people from the opposite sex. One is handsome, dressed to the nines and has an air of wealth and arrogance. The other has clear eyes, a simple smile and a face that makes you want to trust. The person at the head of the table, if asked to choose a partner, will always choose the handsome one, but that's what instincts drive us to.' 'Isn't that obvious?' 'Let me finish. That isn't the problem. The problem is, the other person is not even given a chance to show his worth.' People are always looking at the haves, not the have nots. Why? What if the shoe was on the other foot? What if you were one of the options?'

The pancakes were good and she was a little distracted because of that. 'Because no one ever imagines themselves in a situation where they are an option. You yourself said it. Power trips and egos. Everyone thinks they're the most desirable in every way. And so, when they're passed over for someone else, they throw an emotional tantrum in their heads, trying to fault the decision maker. Of course, there's no defending those who do it for the wrong reasons, but the majority suffer because they don't think of what if the shoe was on the other foot. Everyone thinks they're perfect,. That they're beyond reproach and everything they do is justified.

And because of that, the shoe is never on the other foot. It's late, ciao. Don't overthink it, you're a good man. Those were some good pancakes, you take care.' She left and he sat there, mulling over what they'd discussed. 'Guess in the end it all comes down to be open to self criticism and improvement after all, eh?' He started on the pancakes before they got cold.

A fictitious story of Metaphors and Meta Emotions

Picture a couple of strangers in a gazebo, seeking shelter from mother nature's scorn and being unwittingly overheard by an unremarkable third. Take what follows as an excerpt from their conversation and nothing else, will you, dear reader?

If you ask me, the most justifiable metaphor for life would be a walk. We're all walking our own path. We wave to some of the passers by, while we smile at some. But there are a select few who make us want to stop and take in the scenery alongside them. Then we hear it. The voice at the back of our heads, screaming - 'Oi! Do you really want to do that? What if you forget your way?' And the response from most of us is to keep walking, for fear of losing our way. But there are instances when we stop and spend some time with the stranger. What that time means and what the point of such strangers is, is what this is going to be about.

There simply are too many kinds of different people out in the world. But the one thing common across us all is simple. It's what we all struggle for, claw our way towards. Something that should be the most prevalent thing but is the most elusive. You know what that is. You've bled in the trenches to win it. If you've won it is a question I won't posit since only one response is relevant in this context. So, tell me, dear comrades, how many times did you have to fight? We all know it doesn't matter how many times, because it's always a different battle, isn't it?

I will now return to the original metaphor of the walk. The first time I stopped wasn't of my own volition. Someone pulled my off course and showed me it was okay to stop and smell the flowers. That there was more to the world than running from one goal to the next. And scenery we enjoyed was absolutely beautiful! It was as if the earth mother herself dabbed into her palette and drew one to put all others to shame, for these children of hers were oh so true to themselves and pure! But it was nearly a decade ago, in a distant, now nearly non-existent world. It was the ultimate partnership, where one acknowledged and appreciated the other completely, so much so that it seemed they were linked by the threads of fate itself, ever knowing of the other from the moment they met. But then, as is the case with all interludes, it had to come to an end. As she stood up, she extended her hand and asked him to come with. She already knew his answer, but she wanted the pleasure of asking and hearing the most wonderful, fulfilling and empowering word ever - Yes.

No, he said, with such tenacity that it resounded in the world around them. She was taken aback, so much so that she turned away from him and refused to look. I am not capable of walking alongside you. I will only slow you down, or what's worse, leave us at the side, gasping for breath, as the world passes us by. I have to let you go. You really mean that, don't you? Yes. I have to, you see. For if I don't, I might lie to myself and walk with you, eventually souring the journey for the both of us. She walked away, while he just sat there, wondering why it was raining over him alone. Suddenly, the scenery didn't seem all that beautiful. He kept telling himself it was the right thing to do, but it didn't change anything about how he felt. He lost sight of the world, looking at a single scenery, and now it was not a world he recognized anymore. Which meant he had to start over again. 'You failed to be ready' he told himself, as a reminder to make himself ready for if there was a next time.

And then came the next time. Of course, this time, he was ready. But she left in the middle of their conversation with no explanation and took the compass. His fears came true. He took a brief interlude and had lost his way with no means of reclaiming it. He was stuck there for a while so he figured he'd try to crack the mystery- 'Why?' He spent a long time in the shade, hiding from the light of the world, trying to get an answer. In fact he was there till all his friends came searching and pulled him out. They showed him the route he was supposed to take and ever grateful to them, he continued walking. Stronger and wiser than ever before.

And then came what he hoped was the last time. He was fearful but took a chance, nonetheless. And once again, he was reminded of the beautiful scenery he could watch, should he take the time off to. This reminded him of how happy he wanted to be and he fearlessly embraced it. And then, it was time to get back on the journey again. So he stood up and asked her to join him. He hoped against all hope - for a Yes. She simply choose to take another direction. He got back to his journey, for it was clear now. Interludes end as abruptly as they began. Maybe, he was a fool to expect anything more from these chances he took. Maybe that's all they're slated to be - limited chance encounters with strangers.

As he walked, he started to think. The time he'd spent away from his journey, though every bit as essential as the journey itself, was beginning to now eat at him. It was a source of both great pain and happiness. He thought back to all of those times. What did they truly mean? Everyone ended the same - He was back to walking alone, more tired after the previous. But he kept walking, didn't he? Was that the point? But what about the time spent with those strangers? What did it all mean now? It didn't make sense to him anymore. All that he was left with was pain and the nagging feeling of failure. Why did the pain seem so natural now? Was it because he'd come to expect it? Or was it because he'd always known it?

He just wanted to understand why. Why, at the end of the day he always had to 'understand'. Why he always was miserable instead of happy, no matter what he did and what he chose. No matter how hard he tried, the result didn't seem to vary. And so, he started questioning the 'try'. He, who held honest effort in highest regard had now come to question the very core of his psyche. Why do I feel a chance is the most dangerous thing now, when I once fearlessly embraced it? Maybe it was because all those chances had brought naught but emptiness. Maybe because he was still searching. And walking. And walking and searching. For answers to such questions, though they should be easily available and simple, are hardly ever so. So he vowed to take one more step. Even if that was all he could take at a time. One more step. Towards a purpose he now did not recognize anymore and with a strength the quantity of which he didn't know. But he kept walking. Walking.

One and Two, and Two and Three

I sing to the rock

Hoping to hear your voice

I talk to the wind

Wishing it bears you my words

I pray to the storm

Willing it bear you hither

I wish I had wings

I would fly up and bring the sky down

To show you the how much of my being is you

I wish I could swim

I would dive to the depths of the world

To make you feel the how much of my yearning

What is this pain that’s emptying me?

It fills me like it’s all I’m ever worth but then empties out

Tearing through me between the flutters of my breath

Telling me, I’m right here, fear not

What is this ecstasy that’s threatening to free me?

It’s like the last ray of sun’s light gasping for breath

Before the moonless night sky walks in, reminding me

Of the distance, between One and Two, and Two and Three

Then the pain tells me, fear not for I’ll be here

The ecstasy tells me to ask for reparation if I dare

Both willing my being on, beyond all reason and mortal rationale

Beyond all the walls, all the rules they take me

Till all is memory and pain and adjudication of me and mine

But I fear being alone and bare, screaming as I fall into a mirthless relapse

Oh the distance is inexplicable and haplessly unconquerable

Between One and Two, Two and Three