Desicritics Section: Culture

Does Marriage Destroy Friendship?

Purba — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 08:30:35 EST

Are you confused too? Wondering whether I am referring to friendship between the couple or friends in general who disappear after you tie the knot. Most of my friends were when I asked them. They were bewildered. Of course, marriage ruins friendship between the couple, most of them insisted.

So what brought this introspection on? A stray statement in the newspaper “Our friendship is so strong even marriage could not destroy it” grabbed my attention. It upset me. I am mostly a happily married woman. My occasional “tragedy queen” phases are entirely my doing.

As a young girl, marriage scared me. I had grown up seeing bickering couples, bored couples, dutiful couples, couples who were doting parents. Happy couples were far and few in between. This relationship seemed like a malaise. Thankfully my sacred union did not scar me. We were good friends and still have managed to remain friends. It is our friendship that has sustained our marriage. Then why were most of my friends adamant insisting that friendship should not be confused with marriage and that they are separate entities? Isn’t friendship the most common form of love! A relationship that entails honesty, vulnerability, companionship and mutual respect!

We all dream of love, of our knight in shining armour, the fearless crusader, with a razor sharp wit and a deep baritone (that’s what I wanted). Perhaps a cross between Amitav Ghosh and Hugh Jackman with a little bit of Dave Barry thrown in? Then we fall in love and marry (not always in that order). The first few years are rosy, but an eye opener too. We discover our knight behaves like a helpless baby when sick. That life is not all about spending cosy evenings together. There are bills to be paid, chores to be taken care of and responsibilities to be shared. Living together forces us to be more realistic. The kids follow. Romance becomes the first casualty. So if someone came and told me “Marriage destroyed our romance” I will happily nod my head in agreement.

I still haven’t got my answer. Do couples after living together for long become two sides of the same coin that can’t face each other? Like a pal rightly said, as friends we do not tread on each other’s toes, are blissfully ignorant of each other’s idiosyncrasies. He burps after each meal. She talks incessantly on the phone. She suffers from Obsessive Cleanliness Disorder (er, that’s me). He just won’t let go of his moth ridden “Mad” magazine collection. As friends it doesn’t matter. The moment we start living together, these traits become an everyday reality capable of driving us up the wall. We nag, sulk, give the silent treatment to each other. Ah, the mind games we play. Every argument becomes a battle with a history of past follies thrown in (the woman with her unfailing memory usually wins hands down). Does it help? Why does sorry become the most difficult word to say? If you have a disagreement, resolve it with an eye to the future which you can change rather than a past that you cannot. Flinging accusations doesn’t change anything; it erodes the basic foundations of the relationship.

For marital friendship to be successful, friendship needs to go beyond the concept of conditional love. We need to be less judgemental, more tolerant of each other. OK, doesn’t mean we turn blind, deaf and mute overnight. Giggle every time he burps or look dotingly every time she embarks on a talkathon. Any successful union is about respecting each other’s space and boundaries. One doesn’t have to like the same movies, books and know each other’s passwords! I just can’t relate to people who have the compulsive need to check each other’s mobiles for messages or snoop around their social networking sites. The biggest failing in a relationship is the inability to trust.

Trust, tolerance and acceptance is what nurtures friendship in a marriage. It is not a battle for supremacy. Marriage is a journey not a destination and the journey is always more pleasurable if your partner is a good companion.

Book Review: The Tunnel at the End of Time

Amitabh Mitra — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:14:00 EST

I met Adam at Oslo. A big bear of a person with the gentlest nature and a lovable personality, he remains one of my closest friends.

Yet time and again I have tried to understand him, understand the mind that seems to work overtime, the art of reproducing the images on canvas and words remains a perennial obsession. I have read his other poetry books and marvelled at this superlative mind.

To me, it always seems that he has been able to grasp the aura and time, a steady stream of images that is unstoppable, sometimes virulent yet simple in afterthoughts.

The Armageddon was inevitable...
We needed it, and so we created it.
But it is only illusion...

But what happens next -

The Tunnel at the End of Time is a collection of poems, prose poems and story like poems by Adam Donaldson Powell and Richard Davis. The Foreword is jointly written by Adam and Azsacra Zarathustra. Azsacra is a well known Russian Mystic Poet and has been widely published.

Where am I, Vrebatima?
I am lost in my own transformation …
in the winter of my own samadhi.
Wake me up from my dreams …
but let me hold onto my illusions
and my delusions.

The eventual clash of illusions and delusions are inevitable, it with and within us at all times and strange enough nobody gives the thought of liberating it. The book starts with such ultimate sense of fulfilment but then the poetry and the eventual flow of plasmic willingness happens in multiple streams, multiple layers and multiple living thoughts.

The book reminded me of the movie, Matrix directed by Larry and Andy Wachowski which mentioned for the first time, a simulated reality. The DVD sold three million copies in the US in 1999.

The reader is caught in an iron clasp grasp and taken in strange speeds that seem to stay along with the mind. There are simulations of words and images in a three dimensional effect, sometimes even in reverse moving strata at the same moment when we are going ahead.

So what really is Tunnel at the end of Time, where does it start and where should it end? I as a medical doctor and a poet have often encountered such simulations which aptly brief, seemed to jolt me out of consciousness and that is where the eternal mystery lies. What seems as poetry and the poet a conjurer of words may not be so, they are mere pathways to reach collusion levels in an unsettled time.

I beg to differ from other reviewers who have compared Adam’s poetry to British Romantic Age Poetry and others who have tried to unveil his poems using crutches from modern literature. Contemporary Poetry has broken the realm of sensibilities, a huge dam that has finally enveloped aesthetic congruency in a highly developed notion of sheer flexible imagery.

Adam’s poetry remains unclassified, as it is a class in its own. I would portray him and his friends in cult dimensions in Europe, their poetry would be read and reread in times to come.

Pastel Drawing by Amitabh Mitra

Male Dominance and Historical Wrongs done to Women

Sumanth — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 09:20:34 EST

It is a male dominated world and men control women. It actually looks like a massive conspiracy of global scale for thousands of years. A lot of historical evidence suggests that. For example, women were not allowed to vote till very recent times in human history. Women were burnt after being tortured to confess that they are witches. There are many allegations that women were or are even now treated as property. There are kings and rich who maintained harems of women.

There seem to be huge historical injustice on women. Large numbers of evidences, research and studies for decades point to this historical injustice. It actually appears like a huge crime “against humanity” that such atrocities are committed against women for thousands of years and the world is kept “male dominated”.

Hillary Clinton said in Beijing-95, “Women’s Rights are Human Rights and Human Rights are Women’s Right”. People cheered.

With this awareness of the large scale historical injustices, men have every reason to feel guilty as they have perpetrated all these crimes. Even today men hit, rape and torture women across the world. Many women’s organisations in fact say that the crimes against women across the world are increasing at a rapid rate, which requires urgent action from all men and women in the world.

The picture below shows the dynamics of male-female relationships for thousands of years.

This guilt has made many men to call for “positive discrimination” of men. Said in a simple way, they want men to be denied civil liberties, democratic rights, freedom and dignity. They feel if men across the world are discriminated now, then that will compensate for the historical injustices and create a world that is safe for women.

Now, what’s the problem? The problem is I am an Engineer. The Engineer in me wants to integrate all parts together. Unfortunately, I find all the facts do not fit together.

The kid in me thinks that the rich and the powerful always had higher life expectancy, less diseases, less accidents and better quality of life compared to the slaves. The whites, who discriminated African Americans in US or other places in history had higher life expectancy, lesser diseases and lesser accidents.

If women were treated like slaves and kept deliberately poor in a male dominated society, then how come men have more diseases and lower life expectancy. Why more men die due to suicides or accidents?

This does not fit when I integrate the data and all evidences. I ask, “Did men had better time than women ever in history of humanity?

Then, I found that the Model used to explain “male dominance” is too naive.

The Evolution created a division of labour for men and women. Nature and evolution are violent processes. Anyone who has watched discovery or animal plant even once will agree with me.

The men positioned themselves around the outer periphery of human tribes, fighting against a hostile nature and violent beasts. They took great risks on their lives to hunt and gather food for everyone. Sometimes, they have to fight with other tribes brutally for food so that their own tribe can survive. This shaped men and their attitudes and behaviour for thousands of years.

The advanced model of Relationship between Male, Female and Nature is below:

In this Model of understanding, the nature is most violent entity. The men remained in the outer periphery fighting violence and acted like a cushion for women, children and old people in the central core.

Men absorbed most of the violence directed towards the humans by nature and in the process they risked diseases, injuries and faced death for thousands of years.

Now, how appropriate it is to insult and degrade men claiming that men acted selfishly in history and exploited women for their own betterment?
Will we create a better society, when we go on to degrade and insult our own ancestors for all the sufferings they took on themselves so that the future generations have a better place in this world?

Men absorbed the violence to protect the women, who spent most of their time either remaining pregnant or raising children. There were hardly 20 million humans in this world 5000 years back and children were important for survival of humanity.

However, men cannot absorb all the violence directly from nature and environment; neither all of them have the capacity to heal themselves mentally from all the violence they absorbed in their minds. That creates a domino effect and some violence seeps in to reach the inner core containing women. Now, a whole hue and cry is raised out of the consequences out of that domino effect with rhetoric on “domestic violence” or other violence on women by men.

Even today, most men remain in the periphery protecting the central core of women, children and elders by risking murders, diseases and deaths. Even today, the men are pushed to outer periphery to face “positive discrimination” or violence from state due to gender based civil liberties violations.

It is no fun for men to live in a world unacknowledged for what they contributed or contribute even today.

Ideologues want men to partner them in eliminating violence against women. How can they eliminate violence and create peace, when men are made to live in a red hot high risk zone of unemployment, murders, suicides, violence or accidents?

How can violence against women reduce to zero, when men are denied services or counselling from the state or society to heal themselves?

Are not societies getting closed, judgemental, blind and paranoid about the issues? Is not it going to mislead us all and damage our sense of fairness and rational judgements?

A boy has 3 times more chance to die due to murder, suicide or accident than a girl, when he grows up. Now, are we going to create a better society by denying civil liberties and stereotyping him in schools? Can we discriminate him as he grows up and expect him to make a great partner to a woman?

Men have made great sacrifices for humanity for ages. They have the capacity to make more sacrifices and most importantly, they remain silent about pain and sacrifices unlike women, who go all around cribbing about the headache they got in the afternoon after watching TV.

However, will we have a better society, when we consider it a virtue to insult and invalidate all that men have done or do now?

Is it a male dominated society or “Male-Sacrificing Society”?

Now, let’s go back to Hillary Clinton. She said in Beijing 95, “Women’s Rights are Human Rights and Human Rights are Women’s Rights”.

A school kid can understand what it means according to “set theory”.

It is difficult to live in a society knowing that the society hates you because you are a male. It is difficult to live in a world, when you know that your words will never be trusted by the society. It is difficult to live being continuously apologetic to historical wrongs.

It is difficult to live in a world, where you know that your contributions will not be acknowledged just because you are a male.

Photo Essay: Circumambulation of the London Fashion Week

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 09:20:02 EST

You might have heard about the London Fashion Week. On the global fashion calendar, it is right up there with the Milan, Paris and NY ones. Not that I would know as this kind of stuff is a bit foreign to me, being a boring old git who works out in the sticks where the dollar signs roam and grown men weep. In civilisation - read in the centre of town - stuff happens, women exist and fun things like fashion shows occur. As it so happens, I had gone to check out Michelangelo's Dream drawing exhibition and when I stepped out I noticed that the passageway was absolutely infested with utterly gobsmacking, amazingly and totally thoroughly wonderfully excitingly mysteriously beautiful women of all shapes, sizes and colours sporting all sorts of hair styles. So turned right instead of left and circumnavigated the Kaaba of Fashion taking photographs. Only some of the photographs are shown here, see the full Slide Show for bigger resolutions and more photographs.

Two lovely ladies in front of a giant poster.

This kind of fine artistic inquiry requires good infusions of hot drinks, so I sat in front of this temporary coffee shop and ordered a tea.

See what I mean by staggeringly beautiful girls?

Some big shot was being interviewed.

That grey dress was fabulous, looked brilliant, although I am not sure these boots go well with that dress, but then I guess it's a matter of taste.

Another model .

Canon, the camera company, sponsored the London Fashion Week.

Lunch is being served. Low carb, low fat, low calories, low everything in fact!

I couldn't recognise ONE designer on this list, but then again, my designer range runs from Marks and Spencer (for clothes) to Clarks (for shoes). What else does a man want? But here? BLOODY HELL!

I wasn't clear what this was for, but then I figured, it must be for people who have reserved seats. The grammar was a bit weird there though.

Another confusing sign. Catwalk ok, Show ok, Space ok, but combine them and BD gets confused.

It's a tad empty.

Almost all the women had lovely head coverings.

Legs and heels. Cobblestones and heels? You are heading for trouble, young lady!

Backstage I know.

Dont be trashy, recycle. Hmmm, ok. Though trashy in my dictionary means something else entirely ...

Some very interesting photographs on display.

Loo signs, but the woman looks strange…

The number of girls I saw smoking was amazing, why do all these girls smoke so much? Maybe to curb their appetite or deal with the tension and stress?

An unlocked crew door, I was tempted to sneak in…

The photographers entrance.

More young ladies.

More comings and goings. The photographer on the left was wearing the tightest tightest pair of jeans I have ever seen, not good for the health, my friend.

Another smoker.

And this jamboree will happen again next year.

To My "Little Women"

Cee Kay — Tue, 9 Mar 2010 21:15:09 EST

Dear M and S,

Yesterday was International Women's day. I wanted to write this for you then, but better (a day) late than never, right?

You, my beautiful little ladies, are the reason your dad and I find each day worth living to our fullest. Before you came into our lives, we had no idea that we lacked something (or two special someones) in our lives. But now we cannot imagine not having you in our lives. I shudder at the thought of sending you to college. I will probably be the helicopter mom personified, literally hovering over your dormitories and classrooms. I have no qualms about embarrassing you, my darlings. See, that is what we are saving for - your respective therapies that will be needed just for the fact that you have been subjected to your dad and me :)

That apart, here is something I want you never to forget. You are going to grow up into beautiful, confident women. Your dad and I will make sure of that. The world and its uncle will try to tell you how a woman should behave, think, dress or live. Before they get to you, I want to imprint a few things on your minds.

1. You DON'T have to please everyone all the time. You DON'T have to please ANYONE at all, if you don't feel like it. Sure, nice people sometimes do some things for others that make them (others) feel good. I am all for such niceties. But remember - NEVER be forced into doing something, anything for someone if your heart, gut or mind says no. Listen to your "self". I am not condoning selfishness. I am just saying that do not give in to someone's "Good girls make sure their parents/husbands/boyfriends/friends/God/whoever are happy". Remember, a happy and contented self is much better than a happy anyone-else. But diplomacy sure does make life easier - remember that!

2. Stand up for yourself. Because no one else will, if you don't. Don't be bullied into doing something you don't want to. If you think what you are offering someone is reasonable and fair, it probably is. If they don't agree, negotiate. But DO. NOT. BE. BULLIED. INTO. SUBMISSION!! It is possible to be pleasant and yet stand your ground. At the same time, never be hesitant in unsheathing your claws when you have to. Sometimes you HAVE to show people what you are really made of in order for them to take you seriously.

3. Remember good men don't hit women. They don't terrorize women, humiliate them or coerce them into doing something they don't want to do. There are plenty of good men around. You DON'T have to settle for anyone less than "good". Not even for "good enough". It is better to spend life alone than to put up with an abuser just because "Good" didn't come along. Have the confidence to go on your way alone and I am sure you will find someone who is just right for you. Even if you don't, remember YOU are perfect for you! Remember how your dad loves and respects me. Always remember - you deserve such a partner too. Never settle for anything less.

4. Be financially independent. No matter how loving a husband/partner you have and even if you are well taken care of, make sure you have at least one UPDATED skill that can get you gainful employment whenever you need. You never know what curveball life will throw at you next year, next month or next moment. Be prepared. If you WANT to work, never let anyone tell you that good wives or mothers don't. Never let another person dictate whether or not you should work, or where for that matter. There is no blessing greater in this world than to be able to do what you want to do in life. And don't let any idealist tell you that working to "earn money" is inferior to any other goal. Don't let money be your be all, end all. But do make some money. You will realize a healthy bank balance brings along mental peace and allows you to focus on the more important things in life - like family. Don't undervalue money, but don't overvalue it either.

5. Take good care of yourselves. Take time out for yourself, no matter how crazy life is and no matter how many responsibilities you have. Even if you are with someone, make sure you take out time for YOU. Alone. Very important for your "self" AND for any relationship. Eat healthy, exercise, be active. Have some hobbies that take you outdoors and allow you to be physically active. Mental agility is good too. Try and strike the balance between the two.

6. Be cautious. In unknown locations, uncertain situations and around unknown people. ALWAYS be on your guard! Safety should be a habit, not a "hobby". I cannot stress this enough.

7. Learn everything there is to learn to survive AND to live comfortably. Learn what it takes to progress in your professional fields, learn to cook, to sew, to change a flat tire, change a light bulb, repair a fuse, fix a toilet. In short - anything that you might need to do one day. Or earn enough to be able to pay others to do all this for you. But I'd still say knowing how to do all these things is a good idea - then you will know if someone is trying to rip you off by charging, say, 50 bucks to fix a fuse.

8. Don't hold regrets and grudges. They poison minds, hearts and relationships. It is a difficult thing to learn. I am still learning it. But I hope you will do a better job of it than me. Talk things out. Don't let a little disagreement fester into a big one. Learn to apologize when it is your fault, but don't be apologetic all the time. Learn when to say "I understand you feel this way, but I think I am right".

9. Take a long time to make friends and even longer to end friendships. Remember it is hard to undo the hurt of a mean word or gesture. But also know when to let a relationship go. If it is preying on your mind and being, but going nowhere, you are probably best OUT of it than in.

10. Be competitive. Healthy competition builds character. Don't let the pacifists tell you that participation is good enough. Participation is good but winning, or trying to win, is better. I don't mean to tell you that your efforts are worthless if you don't win. What I mean to tell you is put in your 100% efforts and then some more. If you win, good, if not at least you know you tried your best.

11. Love each other unconditionally. A sister (sibling) is our first and ever lasting best friend. Sure you will have differences. Who doesn't? But learn to resolve those differences amicably. In the end, when your dad and I are gone, you will only have each other to lean on.

There! 11 things - one for each year that I have been a mother. There are many more things I want to tell you, teach you. More later!

Fear and Lust

KG — Tue, 9 Mar 2010 19:17:36 EST

A look of disgust invariably crosses my face when I stand in front of the entrance. What with a glass door, subtly lit veneer walls, the depressingly dull blue stripes on the seat covers and frosted glass in the distance-all signs that scream SUCCESS- the first thought that crosses my mind is 'Dude this guy must be rich!' And not you-and-me rich. More of the fancy car driving, spoiling-the-child kind of rich achiever that makes me sick with the way people have commercialized their talents. No- that isn't right, there's a simpler, altogether more descriptive word for it- sick with ENVY.

Well, I snobbishly think to myself- At least I'm an intellectual. I have Nobel Laureate Orhan Pamuk's celebrated novel My Name is Red in my hand- holding it casually with my finger inside making sure everyone can see the title printed in big red letters. To hell with the air conditioning, the pretty-(actually radiant)- secretary biting her pencil trying to figure out the supremely difficult task of who goes in next, all the time blissfully unaware of the fact that her blouse is too tight and things are playing peek-a-boo. It's then - in the midst of this hide and seek that I wonder why she's playing these devious sexual games with me here of all the places. And it's then that I hear a disapproving cough coming from the toady mouth of an overdressed, overweight high society type who gives me the head to toe look. Cool, I think- maybe she's a cougar checking me out- and then her upper lip curls in disdain when she sees that I'm wearing fading, ancient jeans, a dirty grey T shirt and Woodland footwear so discoloured that it's original colour is unrecognizable.

I sit down between my would be cougar lover and the secretary who's obviously so into me that she knows her top button's open and the- well- twins seem to be much bigger than when I last saw them. She's had a boob job done just for me! If that isn't true love, if that isn't the sweet, innocent love that Keats- (or was it Playboy? Damn Literature can get confusing..) wrote about, then I don't know what is.

Well I think- maybe this visit isn't going to be so bad. I've found someone who's ready to enhance herself for me- that can never be a bad thing.

Absolute power is terrible. There are places where you are so completely under someone's control- and this I don't mean in a wink-wink way- that you just can't do a fucking thing. All you can do is to lie down and take it. Even the Queen of England has to submit body and soul to this man once a year. He enjoys men, women, children, virgins- there's no end to his escapades. And what's worse, even in these days of laws and civilization, this ancient profession exists. And thrives.

And then the moment of truth arrives. It's time for me to get mine. The frosted door opens and there he stands- a balding, short paunchy man- the same man who just had a session with my sister the previous day- and he points to me and beckons. The secretary gets up. My eyes travel down to discover to my horror that she's pregnant. And that I'd been ogling a pregnant much married woman.

Fear. That's what it is. Fear of the unthinkable. Fear- that makes you think all kinds of stuff.

And I go in. And the door closes.

And then the dentist hands me a glass of water and says 'Rinse'.

Photography Times: Silhouetted Seagull

Vidhya — Tue, 9 Mar 2010 07:58:26 EST

There are moments as these when taking a photograph is just a you-get-it-or-you-lose-it affair. Especially when the subject of your photo is a bird, and all the more when you try to silhouette the bird while it flew at an angle just beside the setting sun.

I spent the Christmas holidays on the West coast. The last leg of my vacation was a scenic drive through the CA-1 highway from Los Angeles to San Diego. The route ran about 20 meters from the ocean on one side and a rising cliff on the other, until it merged into the mainland at Dana Point.

After stopping for a coffee at the Dana Point harbor, the drive resumed through the I-5 highway, trying to reach Encinitas, 30 miles before San Diego, before sunset. I was looking forward to some sunset photography at Swamy's beach, at the small quaint seaside village of Encinitas.

Sunrise and sunset are probably the favorite times of the day for any photographer. With the sun down on the horizon, its distinct colors and reflections on the earth and water provide abundant scope for creative ways of photographing regular subjects. Silhouettes being one of them. Forming an absolute silhouette of the subject, with the glowing sun in the background with other appropriate colors and reflections of the setting sun and its innumerable variations is always one of my personal favorites.

As the drive went over I-5, flanked by gorgeous valleys and high rise cliffs on either side, we halted at the Vista Point - about 50 miles from Encinitas, and the sun beginning its dip down the horizon. The view from the Vista Point was breathtaking - the magnificent Pacific stretching like only it would, with an aerial view of mainland on one side and Mexico on the other direction; not to forget the setting sun.

During sunrise and sunset, it's important to keep the focus just beside the sun and also not miss the subject, lest you end up with a photo that is completely dark. Unlike other times when I tend to experiment with exposures and apertures, attempting to silhouette a flying bird is just a matter of you get it right the first time, or you keep waiting until another one flies past the sun.

After missing a few birds that either missed the sun or missed the camera, I managed to catch one that hovered just over the circumference of the sun.

Photo Essay: When I Am Gone - Harrow Cemetery

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Mon, 8 Mar 2010 08:54:31 EST

The Harrow Cemetery is not something that you would naturally find highlighted in any tourist map. In any case, it is far too quiet to be on them. People live and die and are buried. There is nobody famous buried there, just normal people like you and I. People who have lived out their quiet happy lives and then either quietly died in their beds or during wars. And when they died, they were buried in this suburban cemetery.

Cemeteries fascinate me for a variety of reasons. Unlike mainstream Hinduism, where bodies are cremated and nothing remains neither in public nor in private, other than perhaps some old yellowing sepia photographs hung on the walls, Christianity offers you some form of after life presence in the form of graves. It is a very quiet place. When I walk around in cemeteries, I can almost feel the regrets, the tears, the resigned acceptance of the dead and those who were left behind. To me, it is a very charged place indeed. Then you extend the time horizon and see the graves which are more than 100 years old. These are not the Pyramids or the grand Mausoleums of Gandhi, Napoleon or Westminster Abbey where the rich and famous are buried and where people come to admire and look at the graves. The people buried here are ordinary people,and once their immediate descendants are dead and buried as well, their memory on earth disappears.

They did their bit for society, they produced children, produced goods, fought for God, King and Country, and it is a bit of a shame that they are not recognised and nobody whispers a prayer for them long after they have gone. As usual, I took far too many pictures than I can show here in this essay, they are all shown here in this slide show with bigger resolutions (warning, 77 total pics, get a cuppa tea while seeing this).

You enter the cemetery through a set of old carved wooden doors, sadly not maintained these days. They are chained open, which is a shame, they would have looked lovely. Then you see a red brick building which presumably is the place you would rest the coffin and where last respects are paid.

These are the newer graves to the right as you enter the cemetary. The top photo shows a grave with tender plaques commemorating a mother. Then you have Christopher Bell, 1937-2008, who was a husband, dad, granddad and great granddad. Now there is somebody who left behind a lot of descendants. I also noticed several Indian sounding names like Anita Tulsidai Gulpe, Dr. T Prakash, etc.. Not surprising, Harrow has one of the highest Indian origin Brits in the UK and presumably there would be Christians amongst them.

A very old stone grave market, all the inscriptions had worn away.

This was sad, it is a grave presumably of a small child and the parents had put up this stone statue on top of it. A very old grave, but some vandals knocked off the statue's head. You can see it lying to the left of the statue at the base. Very pitiful indeed. Sadly, this vandalism is visible across the cemetery.

Dust to Dust, and then ivy takes over.

Another decapitated statue on a grave. The boy, Peter, died on October 5th 1936, just before World War II broke out, but you still see flowers on the grave. Despite the injury to the statue, somebody still remembers Peter.

This grave had lost most of its inscriptions, but nature remembered its occupant. See the daffodils pushing their way up from the grave? Perhaps you cannot find a better remembrance of somebody’s passing.

Another old grave with an intact statue this time, of a little boy, under the shade of a tree. Sad but peaceful.

Then typically, you have dogs befouling the cemetery, I saw at least 5 dogs in the cemetery being led around, presumably to take a dump. Clean it up, you lazy gits! And on the right, I guess somebody negligently threw a can into the grass.

One out of 10 graves was a war grave belonging to a person from the armed forces from all over the world, I saw graves which belonged to Americans, Canadians, etc., of all ages and from all parts of the army, navy, air force, marines and of all ranks. But the bottom photograph really talked to me. Nothing significant in the person himself, just a private, from a local regiment, who died on 10th of March, 1918 in the World War 1, aged 21. One of the sheer numbers of men who died on the muddy fields of Europe in that war. What was really touching was what was written at the bottom, “Our Only Son”. Made me try to swallow a lump in my throat. No man should ever have to see his only son die. I can just imagine the couple, standing silently in front of the grave, seeing their entire future being buried with their boy. And they might have lived for decades after, slowly and pensively wondering about what would or could have been. The three words are very simple, yet very touching.

Here was another touching grave. Patricia died first in 1968, and then Walter died in 1997. As the two words say at the bottom, "Together Again", even after all those years.

This grave is a bit sad, Celia Constance Smith died in 1941. The other side of the stone book was obviously left empty for her husband or whoever else, but for some unknown reason, it remains empty. Wonder what could have been the reason?

The colour difference on the marble shows how later additions to the grave happened.

I could hear shouting and screaming, so I ,peeked over the fence to see a whole bunch of footballers in brightly coloured vests and clothes. Celebrating life while just over the fence is quiet death.

This was a very nice grave, if I ever had to be buried (not that I want to be …), this kind of understated, simple grave is what I would like. Then again, I will be dead, so who cares?

Two graves, quietly mouldering away on the side.

This was an extraordinary sight. I saw a sundial! and the time was right and it was sunny. It's a sign. I couldn't comprehend why one would want to have a sundial on their grave, but be that as it may, it was quite an interesting talking point. Presumably they could have used it as a signpost? Or was the person buried there a time keeper or a watch maker? I don't know, but found it to be quite extraordinary.

Towards the edges of the cemetery, the graves are much less tended and the gravestones are all over the place.

Many gravestones had Celtic patterns on their stones and Celtic crosses.

Two angels praying over the dead.

Another extraordinary sight. This is a stone pillar with carved ivy leaves or a vine entwining over it, and guess what? There is a real ivy vine growing on it. Spooky or what?

A temporary gravestone while the original has gone for restoration. How curious.

Somebody who was born in India in 1865 and died here in Harrow on 1907. Now there’s an interesting coincidence.

Another broken down grave, but with somebody still remembering them with a bunch of flowers at the base.

A shady grave under a tree.
The small resolutions of the photographs here really do not do justice to the sights, so if you can, do take a look at the full slideshow.

Shri RamChandra Kripalu Bhajman (Prayer by Tulsidas, With Translation And Notes)

Vivek Sharma — Mon, 8 Mar 2010 08:51:14 EST

Introduction (for the initiated, for foreigners, for skeptics and for believers)

Ramayana is the most important and influential epic ever written. The epic has defined the code of Indian customs and morality for at least twenty to twenty-five centuries, and by sheer numbers, been the book or saga that has affected, influenced, educated, enlightened over one-fifth of the humanity that has existed since it was written. While Illiad and Odessey claim a greater fame in the West, among ancient epics, only Mahabharata (which is longer, includes stories of the great battle between the cousins Pandavas and Kauravas, the whole history and genealogy of kings, people and beasts that existed in India or Bharatvarsha before its time, the life-story of Lord Krishna, with his romances, battles and finally also his conversation with Arjuna, in form of Bhagavad Gita: which rephrases the essence of classic Hindu-Vedic-Indic philosophy, and includes many more stories, discussions on nature of being, good and evil and so on), only Mahabharata comes close to Ramayana in grandeur and impact on the combined psyche and daily living of a large section of humanity.

While Valmiki wrote Ramayana originally in Sanskrit, almost every major poet of Indian subcontinent has rewritten, reinvented, translated, transcribed, memorized and rephrased the whole epic in the language closest to his age/time and his heart. Tulsidas brought out his version of Ramcharitmanas in sixteenth century in a language that can be thought of a bridge between Sanskrit and Hindi of present times, as well as between the khadi boli (spoken language) of his time and the divinity. The hymns from Tulsidas are imbibed into our culture to the extent that we cannot usually trace these back to his writing. The cultural identity, diversity and evolution of India, I believe, can be tracked by looking at the versions of Ramayana and by watching versions of Ramlila in different villages, towns, cities, streets spread not only in Indian subcontinent, but also in Eastern Asian countries like Cambodia.

Ramayana or the travels of Rama or the epic story of Ramchandra, the obedient son of King Dashratha, son-in-law of sage-king Janaka, the loving husband of Sita {incarnatation of Goddess Laxmi, who appeared out from earth (and not from womb)}, the glorious archer-warrior who destroyed all-powerful demon Ravana and his monstrous kith and kin, the protector of poor and downtrodden, who ate berries picked by untouchable Shabri, who brought Ahalya back into life, who killed Bali to make Sugreev the king of monkeys and then raised an army of monkeys to defeat powerful demons, the just king who did not even hesistate before exiling his own wife to uphold the law of the land, the eternal legend of the incarnation of Vishnu, MaryadaPurushottam: the one who respected and knew the bounds/limits of ethical/right conduct, and is the greatest or best among men... Even the description of Ramayana requires an epic to be written down. Some of the greatest Indian festivals are based on the story of Ramayana, and many names, pilgrimage centers, temples, fasts, rituals, and an endless source of karuna / piety and priti / love emerges from this one grand poem.

About the translation

In this post, I present a sincere and humble attempt at the translation of a prayer invoking Bhagwan Ram (and I will continue to work throughout my life to provide a better translation for my favorite poems, hymns and verses in Hindi and Sanskrit). Bhagwan is sometimes translated as lord, but the regard for a Lord is often due to fear or due to custom, and regard for Bhagwan Ram arises from the admiration of his deeds and virtues, as well as his spiritual, conceptual, physical and emotional beauty. Fear never features in admiration, dedication for Ram. While the person is submissive in prayer, the submission comes from the recognizition of something greater than one self, something grander than mere personality of the own self and of the diety. Hence old poets called themselves Das, or slave; but again slave is a tainted word, for slavery comes with forced subjugation and denial of basic rights to the slave... where 'das' is voluntarily curtailing his personal desires and demands to present himself or herself in the service of someone or something. Tulsidas, Surdas.. Kabirdas.. In Ramayana, Hanuman is presented as a perfect and appropriate example of being a seeker, a sage, a das, a disciple, a 'servant of greater man and cause', a believer, a doer, a warrior and his greatness lies in using his strength for the service of others. The Hanuman Chalisa again underlies this belief system, this thought process, this devotion. The essential lessons of Ramayana are piety scores over pride, sacrifice over selfishness, obedience over defiance, fidelity over lust, and the ways of just, even if besotted by setbacks and hardships, bring them joy, riches, victories and love in the end. As Tulsidas was one of the greatest or perhaps the greatest poet in Bhakti (unbridled devotion for 'beloved' God) tradition in medieval world, his verses approach divinity through unbounded affection, where every beautiful form is attributed to the Godhead, and the final goal of the worshipper is tocease being a separate entity.

In this translation, I have tried to use words that are closest in meaning to the original. But Indian Sansar is not Western World, as in the West, Man lives in the World as he is exiled from Eden, brought down by his following the advice of Eve and Snake. World in West is a region that man inhabits once, and his deeds here decide whether he will go to heaven or Dante's hell in the end, on a judgment day. Indian Sansar is a stage, where beings appear in different acts, each performance determines the role in next birth, and the woes of the world are left in the world: the being seeks to reach union with perfect being after which there is no need for further performances. Hindu Mann is not just mind, Indian/Hindu aatma is not just soul and Anand is not just bliss. Anand is state of perfect joy, the joy of child happy in its mothers arms is a partial manifestation of it, the joy of person who finds that his/her beloved loves him equally is a partial manifestation, joy of father whose son wins a medal or grand praise or prize, is a partial manifestation. In complete manifestation, anand is a joy without bounds, an end in itself, a manifestation of the unmanifest (God), unity with both nothingness and with everything... ultimate goal of man is Sat-Chit-Ananda (poorly translated as Truth-Beauty-Joy), another name for Bhagwan). The lack of proper words in English shows that Indian, Hindu, non-Western notions, beliefs, philosophy, lifestyle, religion, actions are best analyzed, understood, taught, transmitted, expressed and paraphrased in Indian, Hindi/ Sanskrit, language. Even there, the language can take us only so far...

Sanskrit (better to say Samskrit, for Sam is Good, Krit Made/Designed), as I have written in posts earlier, contains many words that carry contradictory connotations. The word kama means both love and lust, attachment of spirit as well as of flesh, and in poetry, the use of such words allows several levels of meaning. Since detached action, which can be identified as something done for its own sake, irrespective of what ultimate result is, is identified as a virtue, kama in both or any meaning can be undesirable. Yet according to Ved Vyas in Mahabharata, the Grihasta Ashram, or married state, is the best phase of life; grander thanthe Brahmacharya (abstinence before marriage) as well as Sanyasa (renouncing world, family at old age). The interplay between kama as a life-force as well as materialism and vairagya (abstinence) or tyaag (self-sacrifice) or selflessness as symbol of spirituality is a constant theme in novels like Banbhatta ki ataamkatha by Hazari Prasad Dwivedi, Gunahon ka Devta by Dharamveer Bharati, Chitralekha, etc. The similes in the verse below abound in references to lotus. It must be remembered that lotus plays a central role in Hindu mythology: Laxmi sits on Lotus, Humanity is derived from lotus in some versions of mythology, and lotus, because it manages to remain clean in spite of growing in mud, always invokes beauty, purity, divinity. The verse evokes a richly decorated, fully-limbed, handsome physical image of Ram; but the symbolism is, as always, only to create a focus on the deity, on Rama. The last couplet reminds us that the ultimate being, the Godhead, the joy of Mann (Mind or that element in us that desires and hesitates, thinks and meditates), the joy of Muni (wise), of Shankara (of devout, of godly beings), and so on, is within our own heart... or we ask of Rama to reside within, and save us from fears and vices. The aatma, the soul, the self (that goes beyond ego, body, knowledge gained through senses) is where the mighty deity is requested to reside. Perhaps the prayer will be realized only when the self is ready to receive the one desired, and hence it is useful to invoke him through song and symbol...

Shri Ram Chandra Kripalu Bhaj Mann

(Listen to Lata sing the Bhajan on Youtube)

O (Mann) mind! Invoke the benign Shree Ramachandra,

the rescuer from the fears of the harsh sansar (world).

Whose eyes are blooming lotuses, face and hands lotus-like,

and feet are like lotus -- with the hue of crimson dawn.

His image exceeds myriad Kaamdevs (Cupids),

like a fresh, blue-hued cloud -- magnificent.

His amber-robes appear like lightening, pure,

captivating. Revere this groom of Janaka's daughter .

Sing hymns of the brother of destitute, Lord of the daylight,

the destroyer of the clan of Danu-Diti demons

The progeny of Raghu, limitless 'anand' (joy),

the moon to Kosala, sing hymns of Dasharatha's son.

His head bears the crown, ear pendants, tilak (mark) on forehead,

his adorned, shapely limbs are resplendent,

Arms extend to the knees, studded with bows-arrows,

who won battles against Khar-Dooshanam

Thus says Tulsidas, O joy of Shankara,

Shesh (Nag), (Mann) Mind and (Muni) Sages,

Reside in the lotus of my heart, O slayer

of the vices-troops of Kaama and the like.

श्रीरामचन्द्र कृपालु भजु मन हरण भव भय दारुणं।
नवकंज-लोचन कंज-मुख कर-कंज पद-कंजारुणं॥१॥

कन्दर्प अगणित अमित छबि नवनील-नीरद सुन्दरं।
पट पीत मानहु तड़ित रुचि शुचि नौमि जनक सुतावरं॥२॥

भजु दीनबंधु दिनेश दानव-दैत्यवंश-निकंदनं।
रघुनंद आनँदकंद कोशलचंद दशरथ-नंदनं॥३॥

सिर मुकुट कुण्डल तिलक चारु उदारु अंग बिभूषणं।
आजानुभुज शर-चाप-धर संग्राम-जित-खरदूषणं॥४॥

इति वदति तुलसीदास शंकर-शेष-मुनि-मन-रंजनं।
मम हृदय-कंज निवास कुरु कामादि खलदल-गंजनं॥५॥

मनु जाहि राचेउ मिलिहि सो बरु सहज सुन्दर सांवरो
करुना निधान सुजान शील सनेहु जानत रावरो॥६॥

ऐहि भांति गौरि अशीश सुनि सिये सहित हिये हर्सि अली।
तुलसि भवानिहि पुजि पुनि पुनि मुदित मन मन्दिर चली।।७।।

जानि गौरि अनुकूल, सिय हिय हरसु न जाहि कहि।
मन्जुल मंगल मूल, बाम अंग फ़रकन लगे।।

Ideart: Good Karma, Bad Medicine

IdeaSmith — Fri, 5 Mar 2010 17:17:30 EST

A few days earlier I had a thought. The words

Good karma, bad medicine

just formed themselves in my head. I can’t quite explain the thought. It was one of those ideas that just showed itself and vanished before I fully explore it further. It still sounded interesting. I put it up as my Twitter/ Facebook status to see if I could glean anything from it from seeing it in print. Still no luck. It was one of those things that you can just about see from the corner of your eye but never quite catch it straight-on. That’s when it occurred to me that the best way to communicate this thought may be visual and not verbal. And I realized that it had been awhile since I wielded a paintbrush.

The minute I had that thought, the image I needed flashed before my eyes.That was just it. The idea was a picture, not a sentence or story. After that it was just a matter of executing it. Luckily I had a plain black singlet handy and kept waiting for just such a time. A budding artist learns to store away material that could come in useful.

This is a tank top, that I picked up the first time I saw it because it is the thin, stretchy tee-shirt cotton material. There are no big logos or pictures on it and the cut is basic but curved along the sides rather than the straight up-and-down of unisex tees. I hate those since they hang and tug alternately.

The first thing I had to do was figure out a way to get rid of that little logo in the corner (little as it was, it was still in a white rubberprint and stood out) since that would certainly not do with the idea I had in mind. I was out of black paint so I tried dark blue and dark green but the rubber print of the logo showed right through both of these. Finally I coated it with Fevicryl Pearl Black no. 306.

I wanted the picture to be exactly in the middle of the visible area of the tee-shirt. If you are painting a tee-shirt for the first time, I recommend putting it on and marking off the area while still wearing it. Otherwise, one is used to the stark, solid borders of paper and too often the artwork goes over the visible area or looks too small or big. Clothes fall on each person’s body differently and ideally you should always see the garment on the wearer before painting on it. This area usually comes to about 8in x 8in or 20cm x 20cm on my clothes (and I rather smugly report that it turned out a perfect square without using a ruler or even pencil sketching!)

I started with a swirly line using a thin brush and Fevicryl Pearl Spring Green no.311 and then Fevicryl Cerulean Blue no.32. But I realized that a psychedelic design with multiple colours would need to have broad strokes for each colour to be visible and not get lost in too-intricate strokes so I switched brushes. After that it was a random selection of colours applied in strokes, splashes, squiggles and splotches. I painted over in a number of places and in other places I also used the same brush in multiple colours without cleaning the brush. This last gives the effect that you can see to the right of the second dot on the right. The yellow and pink run parallel for a bit before the yellow strikes out on its own. The colours must not be too liquidey if you want this effect since otherwise they’ll merge into each other.

This is one design where red (my favorite colour) was not the most striking note. On the contrary, the red quite got lost in the gloss of the other pearly tints so I used it as background in a number of places. When I had covered the entire square, I dabbed on circles with the Fevicryl Pearl Spring Green no.311 and you can see the colours beneath through the thin veneer of the green, in places.

I originally intended to paint the words over this design in black or white. But I realized the paint area was too small to fit in words and besides, it was too striking to waste as background. Besides, there was enough room above and below for lettering.

I tried for a digital-looking font and a religious-looking orange (Fevicryl Metallic Red no. 356) for the words ‘Good Karma’. In contrast the words ‘Bad Medicine’ at the bottom are in a more graffiti-like font in a Fevicryl Pearl Lemon Yellow no. 302.

Finally I noticed that the painted-over patch over the logo in the bottom right corner had dried and was standing out against the black. So I painted on a stretch in the same colour across the tee-shirt, a sort of rough underline the way one would highlight a graffittied sentence.

I’m not sure whether the finer points like font and colour would be noticed but I’m guessing they would register at a sublimnal level. The message just is one of those things. I wore this with worn-out blue jeans, a silver chain double-looped around my neck with a New Age faerie pendant. It got some appreciation. :-)

[
Garment: Sleeveless ladies tee-shirt

Material: Hosiery cotton

Background colour: Solid Black

Paint colours used:

Fevicryl Pearl Black no. 306

Fevicryl Cerulean Blue no. 32

Fevicryl Crimson no. 04

Fevicryl Pearl Spring Green no. 311

Fevicryl Pearl Pink no. 303

Fevicryl Pearl Lemon Yellow no. 302

Fevicryl Pearl Metallic red no. 356