Desicritics Category: Culture: Pets

Rats!

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sat, 31 May 2008 12:07:26 EDT

Are rats cute? Just look at Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse. They have an entire carnival of their own and a worldwide business around them! Theme parks galore! We have movies about a rat that turns into the amazing chef in the 2007 film Ratatouille. They are holy and auspicious as well. The Hindu God Ganesh’s favourite animal is a rat (or is it a mouse?). And this year is the Chinese Year of the Rat and in Chinese terms, a rat is supposed to represent protection and prosperity. But rats are actually not cuddly creatures and can legitimately be said to be a fully paid up member of the team of the four horsemen of the apocalypse (Plague, Death, War, Conquest)

In a recent news report, the leading exterminator company in the UK talked about how the population of rats is increasing rapidly and has nearly doubled over the past few years. Not only doubled, but even more. This is because more and more of the British lands are being concreted over, so the rats do not have space to dig and create their burrows. Also because of the recent floods, they had to evacuate their burrows and move to higher ground. Hundreds of tons of food grains have been eaten by these furry creatures, but then, thousands and thousands tons more of food grains are eaten by these disgusting creatures across the world.

I don’t like rats (mice, bandicoots, every disgusting type of vermin), miserable creatures. I hate their beady eyes and how they scuttle across the rooms, good chef or cute mouse notwithstanding. My association to them goes back to my school days when one of my teachers used to regularly abuse us by calling us as station rats. Now, I don’t know if you have seen Indian railway station rats, but they are huge, scurry around in the excreta and muck and look absolutely filthy. So I am afraid they are not my cup of tea at all.

They are nasty things. They carry germs, disease and infection and god knows what else? There is a very good reason that food inspectors hate seeing rats in a kitchen, and when I saw that rat in Ratatouille actually clutch a piece of cheese to its plague ridden fur, I couldn’t stop shuddering. That went into the food that they were feeding their customers? Foul. It is the rats who also carry the fleas which transmitted the plague virus. It was because of their germ carrying capacity that tens of millions of humans died in the ravages of the black plague which have regularly swept through the world down the ages. This huge decimation of the population caused major dislocations to kingdoms, lead to wars, changed the path of the Christian Church and caused huge and brutal persecutions of minorities such as Jews (who were said to have caused the plague).

Rats also have been the cause of terrorism (near war) breaking out. In the misty mountains of Northeast India is a forgotten state called Mizoram. Almost forty years ago, a special type of bamboo flowered hugely across certain areas across the Mizoram and Bangladesh border. Its flowers are delicious and full of goodness. Well, because they are so good and nutritious, the rats eat them and grow huge. Not only that, they nearly double their breeding rate (from four to eight times in one year). Considering that you can end with about ten baby-rats in a litter, and female rats become fertile in a matter of months, you can see how the rat population can explode, and so it did!

When it did, they ravaged through the bamboo forests eating everything in sight. When there was no bamboo left, they went for the crops and soon, there was widespread famine in these parts of the land. Typically, and contrary to what Amartya Sen says, famines do occur in democracies, especially weak and corrupt ones such as India. This famine and lack of government support can be directly attributable to the rise of Mizo nationalism, the bitter Mizo terrorist campaign, the one and only bombing by the Indian Air Force on Indian citizens and eventual peace after thousands of deaths and decades of fighting.

As an aside, this bamboo flowering happens once every fifty-odd years and it is happening again now. Rats have already devoured all the flowers and have already eaten a huge amount of crops in the Mizoram state and Bangladesh side. Almost forty thousand tons of food has been destroyed in the Indian side itself, while some Bangladeshi districts are reporting up to 100% food stock destruction. The Mizoram government has a bounty out on them and is paying about 2.5 pence or 2 Rupees for each rat tail delivered (see a fascinating picture here). And the last time a huge famine hit Bangladesh, war broke out.

Strangely enough, while rats were the cause of terrorism, other RATS are being formed to fight terrorism. A very interesting grouping, called as the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, which comprises of the central Asian republics, Russia, China and some others, signed the “Shanghai Convention on Combating Terrorism, Separatism, and Extremism” in 2001. As part of this convention, a Regional Anti-Terrorist Structure (RATS) was set up in Tashkent. While it is difficult to analyse its performance, it claims to have prevented more than 250 acts of terrorism so far. And heaven knows - that area is full of those terror rats. Ranging from the Uyghur’s in China to the Chechnyans in Russia, Kurds in Iran to Islamists everywhere else, all these terror rats need to be flushed out, and what better way than to set a RAT to catch a rat?

Not only that, the US military research arm, DARPA, is turning rats into remote controlled animals who can go up ladders, sneak into ruins, under the ground, etc. on commands which electronically manipulate their pleasure centres. So they can be used for land mine clearance, for reconnaissance, for earthquake rescue under collapsed buildings, and generally be good. Nothing wrong with it, the rats love being pleasured and if in return for pleasure, they do something nice for us, I am all for it.

As a matter of fact, there is a pretty nice cocktail called as a Sewer Rat, made of Vodka, Peach schnapps, Kahlua and Orange juice. It is an acquired taste, I am afraid. And so is eating them, rat meat is considered to be a delicacy across quite a large swathe of the world and here’s a good site with some recipes (if you can stomach that!). Do you remember the scene in the Demolition Man, where Sylvester Stallone wakes up in the future and gets all weird rabbit/processed food to eat. He is dying for some “proper” American food and then he spots this tiny dingy place selling burgers and he dives into the shop and starts to eat burgers with huge big bites. Idly asking about the burger, he learns that it is made of rat meat. But despite a moment of hesitation, he crams the burger down while saying, “This is a rat burger? Good burger!"

I suppose I can agree with that quote, “I eat meat not because I like meat but because I hate animals”, so perhaps I will try a rat burger one of these days. Meanwhile, the impact of rats on food grains is much more important, and the loss of food to rats, the scarcity of food grains, the rapidly rising food inflation can well lead to war and terrorism all again.

All this to be taken with a grain of salt!

Technorati Tags: Healthcare, Agriculture, Inflation, Terrorism

Fishing For Wishes: A Fish Who God Listens To

Aditi Nadkarni — Thu, 15 May 2008 00:49:18 EDT

Red was an impulse buy. He was, really. My roommate and I were at a 24-hour supermarket late one night to buy a coffee maker on a lazy Saturday for lack of anything better to do. Go figure. And there he was, in a short plastic jar looking at me. It was fate. I do not just say this, mind you. In this post I have empirical evidence to back it up. The following narrative is based on true accounts.

I was never a fish lover. But these flashy fish with their dazzling colors immediately caught my eye from an aisle away. Only one of them actually made eye-contact even from that far. I walked over and picked up the jars carrying a Betta fish each, one by one scrutinizing the brilliant fins of all the other fish. They were all jumpy. As we later found out, most Siamese Fighter Fish are. But when I picked up Red's glass it was magical. He did not jump or twitch like the others had and instead continued to look at me very intently. The only time I saw Red display any spunk was when I set his jar back on the shelf and started to walk away. He swam to the periphery, blew a few bubbles and did a couple of quick and startlingly violent twirls that caught my attention. He was the only bright scarlet one among the bright collection of Betta fish. They all seemed ferocious and a little upset. This little guy however, appeared peaceful and mainly curious. When I picked up his jar again, he continued to stare, right into my eyes, even more intently than before. I made up my mind.

That night, my roommate and I went home with a very treasured polythene bag. Every time he moved inside the thin plastic, I felt a gentle twitch on my fingers. I've felt a baby's kick on one of my pregnant friend's belly before and this twitch reminded me of that heady sensation, of how gently and unexpectedly even the littlest of life makes its presence felt.

Usually a pretty rational person, I surprised my roommate considerably when I held Red's polythene bag to the glass window letting him catch a glimpse of the world outside our car as we headed home. When else would he get a chance to look around again, I wondered. It could've been a series of coincidences but we passed on our way home, a Red Roof Inn, a Red Lobster and the song "Red, Red Wine" by UB40 came on the radio. At home as we put our new member in a bowl and turned on the TV, the feisty Red Foreman from 'That Seventy's Show' appeared making one of his dry, sarcastic quips. My friend and I exchanged glances and we knew. This was meant to be. He was christened Red.

Inside his bowl Red discovered his surroundings like a baby discovers the world around him. He moved in and out of the plastic flora and stared in awe at the sandalwood Ganesha next to his bowl. He wolfed down the small pellets of Betta fish food we had bought for him and we warmed up the apartment so that our tropical fish would be at a comfy temperature.

One fine morning Red's presence turned into somewhat of an added excitement. My friend was interviewing for a job the next day for which her credentials weren't exactly ideal. I was in the midst of feeding Red as she sat on our sofa and told me how much she needed the job. I turned to Red and for no particular reason said "Red, do you hear how much she needs the job? You are going to have to talk to God about this and make sure she gets it, OK?".

My friend stared at me with narrowed eyes as if I were nuts.

"Just wait and see" I said with a wink. Lets face it, we all do weird stuff to give our friends the extra bit of confidence and luck that they need. I have sat and patiently cracked 25 fortune cookies at a restaurant amidst startled Chinese waiters for a friend desperately looking for signs about her relationship. So praying to a fish was not odd any more. The next day my friend graciously called me to tell me she had received the job. There were so many people with great credentials, she told me, but she was the one who landed the position.

"It must be Red. He is lucky!" she exclaimed, in her excitement crediting our fish with what was most likely her own skills and talent that paid off in the interview. But word quickly spread and the next day I had a few voice messages from a few people half-joking about Red's newfound ability and half-asking me to pray for them as well. I won't lie, following this, I too whispered my own wishes to Red and watched wide-eyed as they all materialized one by one. Even the weather dodged rain and storm forecasts at Red's behest, which almost never happens in Ohio.

Someone came over and asked me to pray to Red for their sick pet and later sent pictures of their doe-eyed, recovered dog. Yet another wanted their car to be fixed. There were quite a few people who wanted that one precious job offer to come their way. And one by one Red granted them their wishes. Stock market hopes, loan needs, even relationship longings were rewarded almost instantly when I brought them to Red's bowl and made a quick wish.

Now Red's kind of a celebrity fish. I have started to maintain a notepad to keep track of wish-requests. My parents in India ensured that I receive such requests across borders as well. Friends and family call in to request that a good word be put in with Red. Red's schedule is jam packed and he has not let anybody down thus far. Every single wish has been brought to fruition...except maybe the one I made for world peace which I now believe falls out of Red's capabilities and is only a term meant for beauty pageant speeches.

Recently a fishy fungal infection sent waves of panic among the Red Wishing Club. Prayers were offered. My parents made a visit to the Siddhivinayak Temple in Bombay and my roommate and I made several trips to PetSmart looking like troubled, anxious parents. Red fought the fungus and made a speedy recovery meeting wish-deadlines with ease.

Most importantly, Red has contributed significantly towards our social life. People now call or come over if only to pay our stellar fish a visit. Betta fish are social beings to begin with and Red is enjoying all the attention to say the least. Meanwhile, funnily enough, I feel like the mother of a prodigy who needs to make sure that her wonder of a child sleeps and eats well and doesn't get an inflated ego as he goes on using his genius to do world a greater good.

One morning, a friend rendered skeptical by a recent heartbreak, after hearing about Red told me in great length about how faith is nothing but a crutch and that such superstitions just make him suspicious.

"True" I agreed much to his surprise, "I can see why you are suspicious. After all, more than anything, Red has demonstrated that faith does seem to be fishy"

Note: Red is still accepting wish-applications :)

A Cat Story

Zainub Razvi — Sun, 11 May 2008 14:27:19 EDT

I have to admit that I wasn't always a pet lover. But ever since my youngest sister Saadia nurtured a young kitten which she, in my opinion, somewhat inappropriately called 'Pinky', I have steadily begun to shift to the other camp.

Pinky and I had something of a bond. In those ghastly days when I was enrolled in a dentistry program on my mother’s insistence, she used to sit in my lap in the mornings as I waited to catch the bus. I enjoyed her company; it was a nice distraction from thinking about the horrible day that awaited me at college. And then when I returned in the afternoons, she was again the first to greet me, wrapping around me as I walked in tired.

Some times I would be very annoyed by her unasked for affection, and would barely miss trampling on her in my preoccupation. But she was so persistent that she kept trying and inevitably, I fell in love with her too. She was (and still is) far too cute for anyone to not fall in love with, unless of course you're allergic to cats, which my mom and my other younger sister think they are. (I say think here because none of them have ever had a medical test to prove their claims, instead just sighting their overbearing fear of cats as an indication of their allergy, something I refuse to buy into.)

Ever since, my self, Saadia and my dad, the three people in our household that were in the opposite camp, pampered Pinky and others cats as much as we could. In addition to Pinky, Tommy and a host of other neighborhood cats had all came and almost permanently settled in our house.

All three of us, meaning my self, my dad and of course my sister, took care of them. I would secretly give them milk in the afternoons because I knew my mother would be furious if she found out. My dad on the other hand had no one to fear so he actually bought the cats custom made fat from the butchers every time he went to them to get supplies for the house. Saadia too, increasingly grew indifferent to my mother’s advice to “stay away from the cats”. She’d collect bones at every meal’s conclusion and ceremoniously call the cats and feed them. She didn’t stop here, occasionally even investing her pocket money on giving the cats treats by buying them expensive cat food.

In this way, the three of us all pampered and spoiled the cats in our own distinctive ways, but because Saadia took the initiative, they were always “officially” her cats and she’d take great pride in introducing them as such whenever curious young guests arrived.

When I moved over to my in-laws place this January I had never imagined that I'd miss these cats so much. I knew I was going to miss them a little bit, but this much, I didn't think it was possible. After all, I had a memories that I was leaving behind, in comparison with those I thought I’d barely remember the cats.

I told my self I could find new cats, every Karachi neighborhood has stray cats and I could pet one of them just like Saadia did. If not that, I could in the least strike out an adoption deal with Saadia whenever Pinky gives birth to her first liter (ever since we figured out Pinky had all grown up and was looking for a mate, we had been spying on every Tom cat in the neighborhood like anxious parents keeping a look out on children’s girl or boyfriends!)

But all this planning was dealt a blow when I discovered that my mother in law (like my mom) wasn’t too fond of having pets. I thought I’d get over it, but I ended up missing the pet element in my life a fair bit.

And I realized just how much I missed them every time I came back to my parent's place to visit. On my last visit a couple of week ago I finally got to see the three adorable kittens Pinky recently gave birth to. Saadia has somehow shed her tendency to name her pets absurdly and this time has called them Teddy, Daisy and Lilly.

They all resemble little tufts of black and white wool, running precariously around us and their mother. I was quite surprised to see that I was reacting in much the same manner as I would in the event of a human being giving birth, asking the same traditional questions (Does the baby look more like the mother or the father? Is the baby healthy or does he or she look weak?) but nevertheless feeling slightly jealous that my sister knew the answers and I could only guess.

Even Saadia hasn’t figured out the exact identity of the father though. She claims she has narrowed down the possibilities to one of two neighborhood Tom cats going by the fur colour of the new-borns but I’m not too sure of her calculations. What I am sure of though is that I want the cat element back in my life. Seeing my sister go on and on about her adorable cats, now up to a glorious five in total, including Pinky, her kittens Teddy, Daisy and Lilly and Tommy the second (the first once, may his soul rest in peace, died of unknown causes last summer), has made me sure that I cannot afford to lag behind in the race.

And as luck would have it, only the other day my husband and I discovered this feeble little creature in our back yard, completely out of the blue. For one whole day she did nothing but laze around in our yard, crying around as if she was in pain. Every time we try and went close to her though, she’d threaten, screeching and giving a complete picture of all her teeth, not even changing her attitude after she was given milk and fresh raw chicken meat to devour. We guessed as much that she had a semi-injured leg which reduced her mobility and that she was hungry, but we’re still trying to figure out why she’s so unfriendly. I understand she might have felt vulnerable at first, but surely if some one’s giving you food, drink and genuinely trying to be nice, this ought to be enough to remove any initial doubts. I couldn’t get my self to understand what this cat was thinking about.

Then I suddenly realized I was making a crucial presumption. All the cats I had encountered closely until now were those already tamed by my sister, and were hence quite comfortable around humans. This was a stray cat I was dealing with, who probably doesn’t like humans a lot to begin with. It was here that I realized that if I was to convert this cat, I’d have to make all the hard yards that my sister probably did in the first place. I had to convince this little fellow to allow me to be “frands” with her and only then I can teach her all the other pet stuff (beginning with some manners, like you don’t poo straight in front of the backyard’s door so that the entire back portion of the house starts smelling yucky!).

Another big and pleasant discovery I’ve made in this entire cat story is that my mom-in-law isn’t entirely averse to cats; in fact she told me the other day a stray cat’s four generations gave birth to their litters in her old home in Sharjah. She’s only uncomfortable with the idea of them strolling around freely inside the house. That’s something that can be perfectly worked inside with, I thought to my self.

Now all I need to do is win this cat over with the help of my more experienced sister’s cat parenting tips, teach her how to poo nicely and always stay out of the house, and viola, I’ll have a full fledge pet! Isn’t this totally wonderful?

PS: I also have to think of a name for it, suggestions most welcome. I don’t have a picture of her with me right now, but as a guide, she’s not as cute as Pinky, although they’re both the same colour. My cat has slightly more grey spots then Pinky and much bigger whiskers, which is why I’m thinking of calling it Whisky, but I know that sounds terrible, so better suggestions are most, most welcome.

Rough Kitty Love

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 9 May 2008 14:11:35 EDT

There all kinds of bites- love bites, food bites and then we have the insect bites!! Nothing like that itchy sensation that demands a scratch. I can manage ant bites, bee sting, mosquito bites even those caused by big fat black bumble bees but not by cat fleas.

Cat Flea bites are the worst and my acquaintance with them happened when we got Zoey and became worse with Kensei. Having kept dogs all my life I was familiar with tics and regular fleas even cow fleas but not these little buggers!!

It is painful and the itch never goes! Well, only Lactocalamine and cold water helps till one absentmindedly scratches that area again and viola! the itchy and scratchy show begins all over again. These little monstrosities actually leave a trail of devastation behind – the bite marks actually follow a pattern. Its as if the little fleas actually dip into the skin while taking a leisurely stroll over the body.

Many a times it’s a line of four five bites with little bumps and a tiny dot in the middle. The pain felt from a cat flea bite drive cat lovers mad. And when it finally sinks in that the love of your life is suffering from mange the household is turned upside down.

Every gawd damn thing has to be fumigated- the carpets, the furniture, the linen and even the clothes in the cupboards. Yeah, as it happens that little nasties can live in clothes as well. So don’t go around leaving your clothes on the bed if the cat happens to sleep on the bed or forget to wash the clothes you had been wearing while the war was being waged against you on your own body.

Everything and I mean everything has to be washed in hot soapy water, add a little Dettol just to be sure. But while doing this remember to give the little kitty a bath as well. Not a good proposition, I know, but it has to be done and remember the evil-lets may try to jump ship as it happened during one such baths and had me hopping. The flea didn’t drop but deliberately jumped ship which was me!!

And the mad dance began – cats yowling and me screeching in pain and jiggling like a crackhead bellydancer. Not amusing believe me, not at all.

What came to our rescue before the insidious dacoits terrorized our tots? This ingenious little thing called Advantage. Its damn expensive – the American one is for about fourteen hundred and the German one is for about eighteen hundred. Lot of money but it buys sanity for four to six months for both for the cats and the owners.

Don’t let any of the pet shop owners palm off powders for the cats. Felines love to lick and they merely lick the poison in. What works is putting drops of Advantage on the base of their tail and neck and that’s the nuking of the little pests.

But all in all, the damage has been done to me. A single bite from any kind of insect has me petrified. I scratch and think the worst- check the bite, check my kids little bodies, scold my little munchkins who wave their little tails at me and rue the day I fell in love with felines and found myself besieged by unwelcome guests barely visible by the naked eyes.

Kitty Politics At Home

Deepti Lamba — Thu, 6 Mar 2008 07:41:38 EST

We have two cats - Zoey and Kensei. Zoey is a Turkish Angora and Kensei - well, he is prettier than Zoey but we love them equally. Kitty politics always simmer within our four walls. Since we got Zoey when she was barely a month a old she naturally assumed me to be her surrogate mother. We adopted Kensei when he was four months old and five months after Zoey's arrival at the Lamba residence.

Zoey is very possessive about me. She hates it when Kensei demands my attention. They had a nasty fight on my lap recently for a few seconds that seemed to last a life time. I went loco thinking of ripped bloody thighs and tetanus shot at the Emergency Ward.

But being good natured they broke up, gave each other the standoff look and ran after each other around the house. Kensei like Zoey had been sick when we got him from the pet shop. Initially Zoey hated him, she'd hiss and snarl when he made overtures towards her but as his condition deteriorated Zoey began to follow Kensei around.

I realized her concern when I gave Kensei a bath after he had soiled himself badly. He squirmed and wriggled but I was ruthless and quick; cleaning kitty bums has to be a super fast affair.

He made all kinds of nasty sounds. I grabbed a towel and wrapped him, turned and nearly fell over Zoey who was silently sitting behind me all the while.

She worried over Kensei, bumped his nose and sat by his side while he recuperated. It took Kensei a week to get well but once he regained his appetite, put some weight back on the wars began again but this time the fights had a mock characteristic.

They tussled over each other, grabbed each other by the neck but nary a snarl or hiss.

Zoey continues to be the alpha female even though Kensei in a matter of months has become twice her size. Kensei tries to get my attention when Zoey is asleep or else there is hell to pay. Initially we both are give the cold treatment for being 'unfaithful' and then he gets beaten up.

Cats in many ways are like dogs. They both wait by the door when Aaman's car pulls into the driveway. If a family member falls sick the cats offer comfort and like dogs they are always hungry.

What makes them different from dogs? They love to watch television, sit on my laptop keys, they love to climb into all kinds of places I have a tough time getting them down from and their nocturnal habits cause a lot of crashes around the house which used to make us jump in our beds but not any more and best of all they don't slobber.

Paris Hilton Accessorizes Home With Neglected Pets

Deepti Lamba — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 10:39:51 EST

Today I found myself thinking of people who collect animals like material possessions. They buy them, love them for a while, and once weary of the little beings, they are relegated to the furthest corner of the owner's withered self-absorbed hearts.

Taking care of pets comes with enormous responsibilities. In return for their unconditional love, we have to take care of them.

Last October, Ellen DeGeneres cried crocodile tears on her show when her pooch was taken away from her since she had 'gifted' the dog to her hairdresser. Turns out it was merely a bad choice on the lady's part since she could not handle the bundle of energy in her brand new house and she gladly palmed the doggie off to her hairdresser. The traumatized tears were all fake.

Now, we have yet another celebrity accused of neglecting her pets. Gawker gave the entire fiasco a clever headline- Paris Hilton Loses Her Pussy.

Apparently the heiress to the Hilton millions picked up a hapless kitten last May, and basically forgot her cat at the vet's where she had taken him to be neutered. The poor thing was taken back by the Kris Kelly Foundation a week later.

To make matters worse, the kitten according to the Foundation was rarely held or socialized. According to Gawker, there have been allegations that Paris does not take a personal interest in her pets' lives:

"There were unconfirmed reports that all of Paris’ animals, including Prada, were in her Los Angeles home with no one living on the premises for months at a time, save a housekeeper going in to feed the animal."

Animals, like humans, require love and discipline for peaceful cohabitation. While watching the Osbournes on MTV a few years back, I was shocked to see their dogs pooping around on their expensive carpets and furniture, and Sharon griped, but did nothing to stop the pooping activity.

Through the show one could see the genuine love the Osbournes had for their pets but not teaching basic hygienic behavior itself was a form of neglect.

Pets in many ways tend to reflect their owners. Those not toilet trained or those who constantly bark at night, those who cower to a corner or are aggressive (i.e. if its not a characteristic of their breed), those of poor appearance clearly reflect gross negligence on the part of owners.

It is one thing to get all soft hearted in a pet shop but one must think ten times before adopting pets, unlike children who grow up, pets forever remain dependent and need constant care and affection.

Photo Essay: Puppies and Mummies in Lucknow, India

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 07:29:36 EST

It is amazing, whenever I go to Lucknow that there are some puppies somewhere around in the neighbourhood, and this visit was no different. I heard about a litter.

They are behind a fence

barely few days old

sniffing a roti, but not very sure if that is palatable.

Seems to be a bit more interest from one sibling.

Still sniffing away!

Got tired and went back to sleep

Some hours later, we all came out to the side of the road.

Mommy came to check

and do a sniff

Its tiring business, this mommy thing. I think I will take a little pause and sit down.

Hey!!!!, I think mommy's back!

mommy is more comfortable than siblings

mommy checking on others!

Hey, that's a great idea, I will join creamy to be on top of mommy

Hey, I want in as well!

I dont want to be left out either!

Now the entire litter is on top of mommy!

We saw the puppies so ran to get our mommy. We are the tiny munchkins wearing pink haring down the middle of the road.

Now mommy with a baby is looking at another mommy with babies.

Technorati Tags: Photo Essay

A Teddy Bear Named Mohammed

DesiGirl — Sun, 2 Dec 2007 09:35:45 EST

Britain is all caught up with the news of teacher Gillian Gibbons being thrown into jail in Sudan, facing a 15-day jail term followed by deportation. At one point, it was reported that she might be looking at the business end of a whip - 40 times. Her crime? Letting her class of 7-year-olds name their class teddy bear "Mohammed."

All over the world loud, disbelieving gasps can be heard, accompanied by the typical "they must be joking, surely!" Foreign Office is scrabbling about trying to stop the Sudanese government from lashing out on the poor bewildered woman.

One of the guys in my course even made fun of it the other day. That made me think - they don't get it, do they?

While it is tragic that the poor lady has been thrown in jail, laughing about it or passing disparaging comments about the attitude of "those people" doesn't help matters. Much as the British might see it as nothing short of ridiculous to get het up by something so trivial, the matter couldn't be more serious to the other party. If one looks at it from the Sudanese government's point of view, the teacher has committed a blasphemy, by naming a teddy bear after the Prophet. So, in their minds, she deserves to be punished. In fact, had it been a Sudanese citizen who had committed this act, retribution would have been swift.

This is not the first time the West has been caught with its foot caught in a religious quagmire. A few year's back, an enterprising outfit in America called Sitting Pretty released a range of toilet seats named, 'Sacred Seats'. The collection carried images of Lord Ganesha and Goddess Kali in glorious technicolour. Retailing for a whopping sum of $130, the line was augmented by such compelling prose such as this:

"Ganesha the Hindu elephant god, removes all obstacles, destroys evil and provides you with protection on your journey."

Say goodbye to constipated bowels! Taking the dump and prayers at one go - what more could a harried Hindu want?

Of course, the Hindu community got into a major uproar and the line was withdrawn. A while later, a San Francisco company released "designer footwear" carrying images of, you guessed it, Ganesha and assorted members of his illustrious family. Outraged squawks from all quarters made sure the shoes weren't released into the general market. Despite this, flip-flops and Hindu gods were once again merged in 2003 by American Eagle Outfitters and the result was pretty much the same. Then there was this French shoe manufacturer who put pictures of Rama onto shoe fronts.

Why would someone do it? While one can arrive at a whole lot of answers, what it all boils down to is that the people behind these never realised (or cared enough to realise) what these images represent and what kind of sentiment they carry for the millions of Hindus around the world. Unfortunately enough, no one seemed to understand the reason behind the furore caused by these incidents so that the circumstances need never be repeated again.

What does all this have to do with this divorced teacher and her impending, frightening future in Sudan? Personally, nothing. She merely went with her students' wishes, the papers say - after all, why wouldn't she let them name their toy? That she did not understand the weight the name Mohammed carries and therein lay her misfortune.

The teacher's inadvertent error just reiterates the fact that it is high time the Western countries start taking into account other cultures, customs and religions. It is that classic rule "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." To this, one more statement could be added: "do not judge everyone or everything by your standards."

Does the teacher deserve what she gets? No, no, emphatically no. Do the general Western populace need an education on what goes and what doesn't, with respect to the world's religions? A definite yes.

When Are Dead Bodies Sacrosanct?

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 06:22:59 EST

My sister sent me this article about the unveiling of the corpse of Tutankhamen. The article asks where is the dignity in the display of this corpse? The mummy does look strange and rather sad. I have to admit, the presence of the puffed up popinjay, Indiana Jones-wannabe Dr. Zahi Hawass, Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities and Director of the Giza Pyramids Excavation, really detracted from the whole thing. But I digress!

Warning: Explicit images (to some) ahead.

But what about publicly displayed dead bodies in general? What is the feeling? Is it bad? Loving? distasteful? ecstatic? horrible? disgusting? undignified? People have very strong reactions when they see dead bodies. And these reactions span the entire spectrum from utter distaste to satisfaction to nostalgia to glee or Schadenfreude to pity or compassion, all the way to actual love as we will see.

See this picture of King Tut which has sparked off this debate.

I can see why he can look scary to some, but that was not what the commentator was complaining about. He was complaining about the fact that dead people should have their dignity and should be buried or cremated and generally kept out of sight post death and have their peace.

But I found it curiously sad and tender. Here is a man who died in his youth, had a very very torrid family history, and lived through turbulent times and his mummy with the fine tapestry of cracks on the chin, the slightly squished nose, the sunken eyes, all raise a feeling of pity and tenderness inside me towards Boy King Tut.

How about this one? The hanging body of Former President Mohammed Najibullah of Afghanistan displayed in Kabul publicly?

What about the bodies of American Contractors in Falluja?

How about the pictures distributed by the Americans of the dead bodies of Qusay and Uday Saddam Hussein?

No? how about this one of IL duce of Italy, Mussolini and his mistress, Clara Petacci?

This photo is coming from the civilised Christian west, which was responsible for the Holocaust and then this very barbaric hanging of the two bodies after Italy was liberated. It was a scene of ferocious joy, of revenge even, celebrating a monster getting what he justly deserves. Same with Najibullah, who was a monster by all accounts in Afghanistan. What about the American Contractors? They are also monsters in the eyes of the Iraqi's, so that is why they hung up those dead bodies and danced around the remains. The fact that they could do that to dead bodies and break the natural taboo of respect to the dead, means that the feeling of hatred and wanting revenge was extra-ordinarily high. And in the case of the Hussein brothers it was mainly cold hard political calculation. Curious, no? The lengths one can go to mistreat- even already dead - bodies?

But to go back to old geezers. The mummy of Ramses II and other mummies in Cairo Museum?

Ramses II is one of my heroes. I look at this shriveled body and think about the man who strode the world like a colossus. The man who fathered hundreds of children, and whose exploits were written down in stone and have come down to us thousands of years later. The man who was celebrated by Percy Bysshe Shelley in his immortal poem, Ozymandias.

I look upon his patrician visage, that hooked nose, that pointed chin and I do not see the wisps of red hennaed hair, nor the blackened skin or the thin neck. I see a Pharaoh. A Pharaoh striding down Thebes, in his white linen skirt, in his majesty, ruling over most of the then known universe. Now that dead body - to me - is simply a reminder for us to think about the greatness of his reign, not the shriveled body left behind.

Or the Iceman?

Or the Inca Mummy?

The above are prehistoric people. They are almost like museum exhibits or almost like they are like art objects, so you can look upon them without flinching. But what about people who become Gods after death? They were scientifically embalmed, with guards around them, modern mausoleums built for them and pilgrimages made to see their bodies after deaths. What about the man called Lenin?

Or Chairman Mao?

But then both were rather 'godless', no? So what about the 'godful'? Here's something/someone that I have seen personally in Prague. The Sedlec Ossuary. It is a church made out of the bones of 40,000 people. A church!!!!!!

And you see the same with Buddhist Monks.

If you think this public display of dead bodies is horrible, how about pets? Here is a selection of dead pets embalmed for life after death:

How cute, you say, no? So you can embalm your pets post death and find it nostalgic or just a bit strange. Its even comedic as evidenced in the Comedy series Scrubs.

If you do not like the display of bodies after death, can you use the bodies after death? for example for organ donation? or anatomy classes? or for use in testing Improvised Explosive Devices? Here's some very interesting advice on what to do if you find a dead body. I liked this part:

3: Do not - Do not set your camera on auto-timer, lie down next to the body and make rabbit-fingers behind the remnants of the victim's bloodied head as you have your picture taken. I'm not sure if this is illegal or not but it's in very poor taste.

But I understand there are certain type / classes of people who love, erm, making love to dead people, a condition called as Necrophilia. Here's Anthony Merino who was caught having sex with a corpse of a 92 year old woman inside a NY Morgue.

I do not really have an issue with the display of dead bodies. After you are dead, you are just some chemical components. You do not / cannot really care about what happens to your body after you are dead. It is not you, but other people who get all squeamish about your dead body or dead bodies in general. The distaste about dead bodies was burnt out of me when I was exposed to the Bhopal Gas Disaster. Here are two very famous images from that tragedy.

This picture did not make me sick or disgusted but filled me with deep determination to improve the lot of children. The loss of this tiny innocent life should be a reminder to us that actions have consequences and quite often, its the least able who suffer most.

So I don't think that King Tut would mind his body being put on display. Dead bodies are not sacrosanct at all.

Technorati Tags: History

The Ashera - The Latest in Indulgence

Kim — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 09:57:16 EDT

After Uma's post on Vodka with a dash of Diamonds I was left wondering what the next flagrantly expensive "in" thing would be.

I seem to have found an answer of sorts. But this time, its Alive. Its the latest - Lifestyle Pets. Although its not as expensive as the vodka and it lasts longer!

These aren't your run of the mill pet cats.

Its the ASHERA (please note the name is trade-marked) The worlds rarest and most exotic domestic cat. (so they say)

The Ashera is priced at $22,000, plus any applicable sales taxes and is due at time of order. Generally, the delivery date from receipt of payment is 9-12 months. However, for those customers who simply can’t wait to own an Ashera, a few selected kittens are available earlier for an additional cost of $6,000. All Ashera kittens are provided with a Certificate of Authenticity that will include an image of each kitten's DNA “fingerprint”.

Wait, it gets better :
All Ashera kittens are hand delivered to their new owners and hand carried on the transporting aircraft by a Lifestyle Pets representative. Total cost of delivery within the United States is approximately $1,500; outside of the USA they will quote you by location.

Included with the purchase of your Ashera kitten are the following:
* Complete and updated vaccinations through delivery
* Mandatory spaying or neutering
* Microchip Identifier implant
* One year of premium veterinary health insurance through Pets Best (USA customers only)
* Airline certified electronic climate controlled cat transporter
* Veterinary Health Certificate (required for travel)
* One set of nail caps already applied (these are vinyl nail caps applied to your kitten's claws that effectively cover the claws so no damage occurs to furniture, etc.)
Starter Pack (includes premium kitten food, additional nail caps, cat toys and other kitten sundries)
* One year guarantee (see purchase agreement for terms and conditions)
* 10 Year consultation access to Dr. Roland Tripp, internationally recognized animal behaviorist.

What's so special about these cats you may ask : They have been (bred and genetically) developed by blending exotic bloodlines of the African Serval and the Asian Leopard cat with the domestic cat. The cat weighs upto 14 kilos they are specially bred to have Leopard spots on their body and stripes on their limbs.

As an additional service, they have even introduced a limited payment plan to facilitate the purchase of an ASHERA kitten.

My concerns :

What happens to the kittens that don't come out with their stripes and spots in the advertised places? People aren't going to pay 22,000$ for those!

Whatever they may claim, these cats are bred from wild felines. They grow upto the size of 14 kilos/30 pounds. How safe can it be to have them around, especially with children? Some may argue that they grow to the same size and weight of large breed dogs, but these cats have a much closer link to their leopard forefathers.

They are currently developing a new breed of a very small dog. Wonder how much that would cost!

You can sign up for their newsletter on the site. I have, I definitely wanna know, what's next! Simple curiosity, I'm re-discovering that from my own cat (she's a naturally conceived mixed breed)