Of Smartphones and Dumb Actions

Dhak..dhak..dhak…. DHAP!  Then total silence!

The first three words were the sounds of my heart beating as I saw my prized smartphone fly away from my hands  from the landing of the first flight of steps to the hard, merciless floor down below. (I can still recapture its entire flight in slow motion). The fourth word was how it sounded to my horrified ears as it landed with a harsh thud, face down, 12 feet below onto the ground. ..And then it was total silence for a few seconds after which a flurry of activity occurred that chiefly included an SOS scream for my son along with a mad race downstairs to pick up my phone which was fortunately still in one piece; but no amount of first aid could revive its ‘touch’ sensor without which it was practically useless for all I could understand…

For once, I had to stand shamefacedly under the stern glare of my 17 year old son who is the epitome of carefulness. (He still has his favorite childhood mechano set preserved intact and I suspect that the big box of partially used colorful oil pastels stashed away in his drawer is the same one I gifted him on his 7^th birthday…). My favorite one-liner, ‘Learn from your elders’ backfire royally as he scornfully says “how careless can you get? Isn’t this what I will learn from my mother?”  Any other time and I would have given him a look to silence, but seeing the semi-comatose gadget in my hand, which had been a lively companion just a few minutes back, I swallow the heartless jibes and set off to the service center with a heavy, but optimistic heart.

Problem one was tackled. The bigger problem now was getting a replacement phone till I got mine back. Unfortunately, I did not have any spare ones at hand and the only way of taking revenge at my son’s barbed comments was by getting him to lend his brand new blackberry (without a blackberry connection)… and grudgingly he did, especially since I had to travel for a few days and moreover since his exams are on, he is mostly at home these days with access to the landline. Sweet of him, you would say, but little did I know as to what I was getting into! I now had to account for every speck of dust which could be seen through a magnifying glass on his phone… and I also had to share my phone with him, the requirement of which could be at just about any unearthly hour of the day. Well, beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes…

This is only a small part of the story. Apart from the fact that I had become sort of handicapped due to the loss of all my contacts (for some mysterious reason, this blackberry phone refused to acknowledge the numbers and other data stored in my sim card), I realized I had got afflicted with another serious malady. I had heard about the withdrawal symptoms experienced by drug addicts and alcoholics. To my horror, I was experiencing something on those lines.  How would I live without accessing my Facebook account every 10 minutes? What would people think if I am not available online 24 hours a day on Gtalk? Oh my God! How will I talk with my skype contacts? How can I remain unconnected with my whatsapp and viber friends? How would I know the news, weather, and temperature of various parts of the world? Talk about panic buttons and alarm bells!!!

It has been two weeks since my ailing phone has been shifted to the ICU of another specialty service center, awaiting an organ transplant. Surprisingly, after the first few days of acute withdrawal symptoms, I find that life is not as bad as I thought. To my surprise, I realize that I am in touch with all my family and friends who matter; my various projects and work goes on without a hitch and I find that it is perfectly alright  if I am not an active part of the online community. But more importantly, I realize that I am not that important a person as I deemed myself to be and neither do I run this world.  I don’t have to be accessible to the whole world 24x7. And the greatest advantage of this revelation is that I have so much more time left on my hands which otherwise would have been spent in social networking sites unproductively, posting comments which don’t matter to people in the first place, reading and liking highly opinionated posts and going through umpteen number of inspirational quotes, status updates, pictures, and messages most of which, I doubt, makes little sense even to the person who has shared it…

I hope to get my mobile phone back in a few days time, but more than  that, I am hoping I would  be able to remember these precious lessons and consider the gadget as just an electronic device for my convenience and not something which I need to be dependent on for my survival…

“You have left my phone lying face down on the bed! What if it develops a scratch…?” There goes the monster of my son again... For once, I have to agree with the writing on his tee-shirt which goes “ Life was much easier when apple and blackberry were just fruits…”

Of Autograph Books and Memories…

As a mother of a 17 year old who is shortly leaving school, I find it pretty amusing to see him with a greatly prized possession these days… his autograph book!

I wish I had preserved my own autograph book of my school days. I remember I had three of them. One was a red plastic covered one with colored pages (we couldn’t get any fancy ones at Palakkad some 25 plus years back) which was reserved for special friends who had sentimentally recorded pages and pages of the entire history of our friendship; another similar blue slam book was given out to juniors and other acquaintances at school. The third one which was of a more fancy nature (something which my mother had got for me from abroad) was exclusively for my teachers.  Come to think of it, most of my teachers had penned down some great quote or proverb along with their wishes and how I wish I had understood the deeper meaning of those valuable words that time… Somewhere in the passing of time, my little autograph books lost their charm and value in my grown up world and got left behind someplace…

Times have undoubtedly changed. The e-communication revolution and the era of mobile phones are playing a great part in continuing friendship among school leaving children. The phrase ‘keep in touch’ no longer is said with a heavy heart, thanks to emails, skype, Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking sites. These children will never have to bear the pangs of separation like those of my generation, since they have an option to remain connected with each other no matter which part of the world they are in…

But unfortunately, they will never know the sweetness of discovering a long lost friend in Facebook, or getting a call from a classmate who has somehow managed to dig out your cell phone number to give you a late night surprise call 25 years down the road… They will never know the thrill of a school reunion decades later, where you bump into dozens of your classmates and friends whom you have never met since your school days… and most importantly, they will never ever experience the thrill of receiving a friend’s letter by post, tearing it open in a hurry and savoring the delicious lines word by word with a song in your heart…

A new year... a new beginning...

I like the advent of a new year. Technically speaking, it is just another day. A day which has 24 hours like all other days, a day where one goes through the self same routine like most other days. The first of January is no different from the 24^th of June or 8^th of August or any other day. I don’t understand why, but somehow, I can’t stop that excited feeling growing within me as I reach the end of December and I eagerly wait for the 1^st of January.

Perhaps this excitement is due to the symbolic ‘newness’ which is attached to the arrival of every year. I actually revel in the feeling of ‘hope’ which engulfs me during the start of a year and it sort of inspires me to kick out all the negatives out of my life which had unwittingly become a part of me all these days. Out goes the every thought and action of mine which makes me sad, angry, irritable, envious, de-motivated and dejected; instead I enjoy the process of filling myself up with peace, contentment, and acceptance which automatically motivates me, spurring me to dream of a better tomorrow and work towards realizing it. I also enjoy making resolutions. Ofcourse it is another fact that these resolutions are seldom carried down the whole year, but nevertheless it is a ritual which I enjoy observing religiously.

As I am getting ready to step into the threshold of 2013, I am so very thankful to all the myriad, mixed experiences and emotions of the year that was and grateful to the various people who have been a part of my life all these days, inspiring and motivating me to become a better individual in a variety of ways.

Here’s wishing each one of you a very happy, healthy, peaceful and prosperous 2013! May you be inspired enough to achieve your dreams and live life to your fullest! 

Nirbhaya shouldn't have died in vain...

Nirbhaya is no more and the people who are responsible for her death are still living, enjoying the protection and security accorded by the Delhi police, eating food provided by the Indian govt, and perhaps hefty negotiations are taking place between their concerned relatives and smart lawyers who may take up their case, and prove that it was a human error or an act committed due to insanity. Like most other rapists who are unfortunate enough to be caught, they too may have to suffer a few years in jail and then would be released into the society, and may in due course become respectable citizens of this country emboldened by the attitude of a ‘tolerant’ society which pretends to sleep.

Each day, as I wake up to the news of assaults, rape, abuses, and atrocities against women and children, I can’t help feeling a sense of shame and anger. Why do we tolerate such nonsense? The more I think about it, the more I feel stronger laws are required to punish the guilty. But to prevent such devilish incidents from occurring, we have to first change ourselves, our thoughts, and our myopic, fear filled minds. We have to stop haunting the victim, causing her to cringe in shame and fear all her life and instead hunt down and punish the wrong doer at the earliest. The society, instead of ostracizing her, needs to encourage such victims to emerge from her trauma and lead a normal life in every possible manner. Let us learn to react and protest strongly against ill treatment of women, whether at home or the workplace. Let us teach our sons to treat all women with respect and dignity and let us teach our daughters to command that respect which is rightfully theirs and live a life of dignity without guilt.

The Delhi incident has sparked off a public outrage and hopefully, this spark will flare up all over the country to bring about a change in the way women are being perceived and treated in our country. Nirbhaya shouldn’t have died in vain…

Rest in Peace

I came across a corpse yesterday.

You may be wondering what is so unusual about seeing a dead body these days. People die and there is nothing new about it…

 Well, why I mention this incident specifically is because this was not any ordinary dead body that was laid to rest in a satin lined, wooden, decorated coffin. Neither was this a body which was swathed in white and respectfully surrounded by mourning friends and relatives,  awaiting its last rites so that the soul could peacefully pass on to the netherworld. No flowers… no tears… this was just a corpse on the street.

The pathetic death of the unknown man must have occurred at an unknown time. It was lying adjacent to a filthy ditch on the side of a busy road. At first glance, I mistook it for that of a drunk lying totally sozzled, without a care in the world. (There is a bar which caters to the ‘common’ man nearby and such sights are frequent). But the presence of a small crowd of curious people around the body as well three policemen with totally uninterested faces, trying to act unduly important rather confirmed my suspicion and I knew for certain that I had come across a corpse.

You know, I strongly believe that however refined we are, there is this base nature within each one of us which is attracted towards the grotesque. I was reminded of a childhood incident during a long ago summer vacation when a rich old lady was found murdered in our village. Those were the days when murder was very uncommon. We (I and my cousin) were totally excited about it and seeing the neighboring children rush off to the spot which was some distance off, we begged our elders for permission to go and see the body. But small children from decent families are absolutely forbidden to have any such adventure and as expected, our request was turned down accompanied with quite a bit of harsh words. It was another thing that they spoke about the murder in hushed tones among themselves, which made it all the more unbearable for  my cousin who managed to  give them the slip and make off to visit the spot of the murder. I still remember my excitement mingled with fear at the vivid description he gave me (in secret) about the corpse…

Well… to come back to my present story, that base instinct which overpowered my senses at that particular moment, compelled me to take a quick peek at the lifeless body lying on the roadside. For a moment, it was as though I was looking at a weary, sick, sleeping man with the word ‘alcoholic’ stamped all over him. He would have been in his late 40’s, had a heavily suntanned, bony structure, and his weary face sported an unkempt beard. Dressed in a cheap, pink polyester shirt and a dhothi that had seen better days, he looked like one of those umpteen people whom you pass by on the road with utterly defeated looks on their faces…

After the preliminary enquiry conducted by a dozen policemen for about an hour, during which the whole road got blocked with curious onlookers, impatient vehicles , three police jeeps and an old, derelict ambulance, the corpse was unceremoniously taken away to the Govt. hospital morgue to await relatives who would perhaps be traced out by the police…

It seems the owner of the nearby bar confirmed the fact that he was a ‘regular’ in their premises and was also suffering from TB. I guess that is a deadly combination. Back home, as I narrated the incident to my family, I must confess that I really was not surprised by their matter-of-fact reaction (non-reaction, rather). I guess death has definitely lost its charm for the living…

The festival of Karthika… Nostalgia unfolded…

Once a year, the small earthen lamps that were stored away carefully in a rusty old tin on top of a shelf in our store room gets a new lease of life thanks to the festival of Karthika that has a special significance mainly due to the lighted up lamps that adorn the courtyard of houses, filling them with an inviting golden glow at dusk.

As a predictable ritual, my mother washes these earthen lamps collected over a period of time and sun dries them for the evening ritual.  Oil for the lamps and wick cut to proper size are readied simultaneously and as dusk arrives, the lamps are ready to be lit.

It was up to the youngsters of the house(myself and my sister)  to arrange these  lamps at suitable places… in geometric designs on the courtyard, lined atop the compound wall, on either side of the steps leading up to the house, on window ledges, and where ever possible. The children of our non-Hindu neighbor too would assist us in lighting the lamps and it was total fun trying to shield the small flickering flames from the sudden gust of wind which mercilessly blew about this time of the season and relight them which was of absolutely no use as we just couldn’t compete with the wind. My mother used to make a sweet to be offered as ‘prasadam’ which we all used to sit and relish. I would say the whole process was one of family and neighborly bonding and as far as I was concerned, it had less of a religious significance.

Today, once again, a Karthika has dawned on us. My mother still prepares the earthen lamps and I along with my son would definitely light up our courtyard. The glow of these tiny flickering lamps would fill up our home and definitely find a place in my facebook page, but I feel the lack of a vital element that used to be the life force of such festivities in the yesteryears. In general, the enthusiasm seems to have toned down considerably as everything feels more of a chore than an event to be looked forward to. Perhaps it is the absence of the members of the family who are elsewhere living their own lives, perhaps it is our unwillingness to step away from our rigid daily schedules that rule our lives, or perhaps it is the general decline of our values and traditions… I don’t know.

All the while we light the lamps, my son would be thinking of tomorrow’s chemistry pre-model exam, impatient to get back to his studies; I would be wondering as to the night’s dinner dish that is yet to be made and the various jobs  that I need to do before calling it a day; my mother perhaps would be wanting to complete the whole ‘procedure’ before her favorite reality show, Idea Star Singer starts… I guess it is just the strong breeze that would remain the same, blowing out the tiny flickering flames one by one…

Sabarimala 2013 – A ‘Green’ Pilgrimage

Another mandala season has arrived, bringing with it cold, crisp, foggy mornings complete with the energetic cries of ‘Swamiye Saranamayyappa’ by ardent devotees. Kerala seems all geared up to meet the massive inflow of about 2.5 crores of devotees flowing into Sabarimala from all parts of the country.

One heartening piece of news which makes this season different from previous years is the fact that the State govt, acting under the orders of the honorable High Court, has issued a complete ban of plastic and other non-biodegradable materials in Sabarimala, with the intention of protecting the fragile ecosystem of this divine place of pilgrimage. Infact, several voluntary organizations had already undertaken a massive cleanup operation on the trekking path as well as the Sannidhanam recently, thus making it free from all accumulated plastic debri and other litter. This is a tiny step towards keeping Sabarimala clean and green, but definitely a noteworthy one and I hope that pilgrims comply with the rules and cooperate with the officials.

I was also pleasantly surprised to see an article by Sabarimala’s Tantri, Kandararu Rajeevaru in a newspaper, appealing all devotees to refrain from using plastic materials like containers, wrappings, bags, etc in their ‘irumudikettu’ and replace it with ece-friendly materials like cloth or paper. Similarly, he has also appealed to the pilgrims to deposit used plastic pet water bottles in designated dustbins only. I totally appreciate the Tantri’s concerns regarding the pollution of the sacred place of pilgrimage and his efforts to keep the area clean and sacred.

A lot more need to be done by the govt and concerned authorities in preserving and maintaining the temple environment, but above all, it is up to each one of the pilgrims to understand they are totally responsible for the conservation and upkeep of the serene surroundings that is the abode of the Lord Aiyappa.  

May the Lord’s blessings be with each one of you.