Will The Meek Inherit The Earth?

I feel for Clarise M Starling.
As I have never before since the Silence Of The Lambs was first released.

The first time I first saw the movie, it was Lecter who caught my attention.
His cold unhurried demeanour, the subtle regality of his words and actions, his appreciation of classical music and of course his cannibalistic tastes, all  intrigued me.
If anyone could have made cannibalism fashionable, it had to be Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Agent Starling, on the other hand, struck me as a rather strange young woman. 
Mostly because it was a little too hard for me to empathise with the scatty girl who carried into her adulthood, the childhood trauma of the bleating of the lambs during slaughter.

But this past week transformed my long buried disdain for Clarice Starling into empathy.

Last Wednesday, I came home to be greeted by a herd of frisky goats.
The goats, seven in all, were caged in a make-shift pen by the side of my apartment.
The windows opening into my bedroom and living room were festooned with boughs of succulent green leaves. And the goats who were tied to the window grills, eagerly flocked together to partake of their leafy feast.

Every once in a way, a rebellious little goat would stamp his feet and toss his head to the bleating cheers of his bovine mates, in a desperate effort to shake off his noose. But, in a matter of minutes, the lone rebel would realise the futility of his battle and turn his attention back to the lush foliage.

I was rather surprised, and, to be honest, a little annoyed by the new denizens of the building. 
Discrete enquiries, made around the vicinity, revealed that the Muslim festival of Bakrid was right around the corner and the chomping goats in front of me were to be sacrificed at the celebrations the following week.

'Madam, Bakri ka eid hain Bakrid*'  the watchman explained to me helpfully "Your landlord and his family have bought these goats for their sacrifice. I don't know why they have bought them a week in advance though....Most people buy the goats on the eve of the Eid"

The Koran, it seems, stipulates that the sacrificial animal be a part of the family for a whole year at the very least. And I supposed by some convoluted mathematical calculation that was bound to fly over my head at the speed of light, my landlord and his family had managed to compress a long year into a paltry 7 days.

I was livid and agitated.
And, with just cause.
While I would not presume to judge the rites and rituals prescribed by any religion, I do take exception to  people forcing religion or barbaric rituals down my unwilling throat.

Late as the hour was, I was all set to go knocking at the landlord's doors with my objections.

But, a quick call to a wise friend stayed my tongue and feet.
" Do NOT do anything right now when you are annoyed" she said "This is a sensitive matter. Sacrifice of goats is a part of the Muslim tradition at Bakrid. You need to communicate your displeasure about the goats tied to your window and their slaughter on the building premises. But, you cannot in any way imply that they should not slaughter. So, wait till morning so we can talk to the broker who fixed up the house and then let us decide how to proceed" 

I passed an agonising night of sleepless vigil, broken every now and then by the orgasmic grunting of the goats as they tore into the foliage.
But, the morning only brought with it news as bleak and cold as its grey sombre skies.

" Adjust...It is just a matter of a few days"

The response only stoked the embers of righteous indignation that were blazing within me.
And the glowing embers flamed into a mighty conflagration by evening, when I returned home to the news that one of the goats had strangled itself on the restraining rope.

Throwing caution to the winds, I determinedly marched up to my landlord's apartment on the floor above.
As I lumbered up the stairs, I mentally ticked off my grouses to make my case...the stinky goat stench that permeated every nook and corner of the house, the noisy bleats and orgasmic grunts that punctuated my sleep at night, and, the possibility of bearing witness to more suicides.

But, what the girl proposed, Allah was swift to dispose of. 
For I was met at the doorstep by his formidable mountainous wife, who tersely informed me that her husband was out and slated to return late at night.
"Too late to come calling on a SINGLE girl" she snapped at me, disapproval and suspicion dripping from each syllable that escaped her carmine lips.

Not that I was fazed.
"Try, try and try again...till the goats are all taken away" chanted the voices in my head, just as the spider intoned to the legendary Bruce centuries ago.

So I went calling the next day, and the day after.
And every day of the week, until it was painfully apparent that the landlord had got wind of my intentions and was in hiding.
My phone calls remained unanswered, as were my text messages.
Even the watchman who was recruited to track down the elusive landlord, threw up his hands in defeat and dejection in the face of my aggressive rants.

Despite the best of my efforts, the week continued to progress with the goats remaining firmly ensconced in their pen, steadily chomping their way to tender plumpness. Despite the stench and the noise, I could not help but respond to the furry faces that turned to me with warmth and friendliness every time I opened a window or emerged from my house.

As the festive fervour grew around me, I could not help but resent the people who blithely chuckled and chortled as they compared their goats and eagerly smacked their lips in anticipation of the blood that would flow and the juicy flesh that would grace their tables.

Even Ging, it seemed had discovered her blood lust and turned traitor to my cause, for she took to stalking me relentlessly until she managed to sink her tiny fangs into any jiggling body parts that chanced to sway her way.

And caught in this vortex, all I could do was to rant maniacally to my friends, while adroitly sidestepping the treacherous teeth and claws that swiped at me from under the couch.

The morning of the 17th dawned cold and grim.
The torrential rains that pelted the earth in impotent fury echoed the frustrated pain in my soul, as I tried to shut my ears to the distressed calls of the cattle and the rhythmic sounds of the butchers' blades that rent the air around me. 

It was with a heavy heart and a sense of anger that I lit my candles and lamps that morning.

For once, I had nothing to ask of God.
And so, for the first time in my life, I prayed not for myself or my loved ones, but for the innocents around me whose blood was being wantonly shed.

As I stood there praying, I could not help but wonder.....
How can the meek inherit the earth, when the road to heaven is paved with their blood?

E For Earth? Or, E For Extinction?

The Earth Hour came last evening.
And, it went, without me having switched off a single light.

Quite tragic, really, considering that, I love to put switches off.

To all those who asked, I said, I hadn't been home.
I was out, shopping, for groceries. And, if, I had tried talking Spencer's, where I was at 8:30 p.m., into switching off their lights, I am pretty sure, the noise pollution levels in Bangalore city, would have gone up by a few notches.

A pathetic excuse, you may think.
Quite rightly so!

Truth be told, I did not remember it was Earth Hour.
No-one text messaged me. Nor, did I receive any email forwards.
The only person, who even mentioned it to me, did so at 10:30 in the night.
However, the lack of reminders, is, not the reason for my forgetfulness.

I forgot about Earth Hour, simply because, I did not find it real enough.

Will, one hour of darkness, save our Planet, from melting into nothingness?
I didn't think so.

Can, one hour of darkness, offset the damage done by the gazillion text messages, phone calls, and emails that have zipped the length and breadth of the globe, garnering support for Earth Hour?
I doubted it.


No matter how it was marketed, - a global election, a statement of intent, or, even, as a much-needed start, for me, the Earth Hour, sadly, was nothing but an over-hyped idea, which, probably has done more to enhance global warming, than alleviate it.
And, I am unable to view it as anything but, a feel-good activity with immense brag-value.

For, come Monday, nothing much would have changed.
People will continue with their wasteful, destructive life-styles.
And, the Earth Hour will, at best, become a fashionable topic of conversation for most.

Without doubt, the idea, was fuelled by good intentions.
But, the stairway to heaven, is not paved by good intentions alone.

Any effort to save this planet we call home, has to run a lot deeper.
It has to be sustained. And, a part of our daily lives.
Our efforts to save Earth, HAS, to be rooted in awareness, genuine caring, and, in the understanding, that the survival of mankind is, irrevocably, entwined with that of Earth's.

Sadly, man has changed much from the days, when he lived in oneness with nature.
And, I confess, I have been as guilty as anyone else.

There was a time, when, I used to watch, and snicker, as my mother set out for shopping expeditions, armed with a jumbo sized, cloth bag.

I remember the times, when, I used to scowl in annoyance, at the local grocer, who insisted on wrapping at a snail's pace, each purchase of mine in newspaper.

There was a time, when I used demand immediate eviction, and, even the murder of little creepy crawlies, only, because they scared the living daylights out of me.

And, horror of horrors, there were occasions, when I used to flood the house regularly, only because I was careless enough to nod off, with a tap running somewhere.

I would like to put these instances down to youthful arrogance, and callousness.
But, when I look back, it is with a sense of guilt and shame.

I cannot claim to be a very-aware person today.
Or, to be someone, who lives in oneness with nature.
But, I try.

I carry non-plastic shopping bags, as much as I can.
And, no, my mother does not know of it, as yet. If she does come to hear of it, I will argue, till I am blue in the face, that my bags are so much smarter than hers.

I care for the plants and animals in my surrounds, and, that includes, the creepy-crawlies too.
Spiders, millipedes, and the rest of their ilk, crawl merrily about my house, much to the fury of my maid, upon whom, falls the unenviable task of clearing dense festoons of cobwebs, from all over. Cheeky jackdaws and noisy crows, boldly saunter in as they please, demanding food, shelter, sometimes, just company. And, the resident feline mafioso, has practically, taken over my spare bedroom!!!

I donate my newspapers to the local delicatessen, so, they can send out their food in recycled newspaper carry-bags. Very many of those bags come back home to roost, as I tend to patronise the delicatessen, under the pretext of optimising gas consumption at home.
After all, they are cooking, so why waste mine?

Difficult as it is, I try to stay on the lower links of the food chain.
As we all know, a leopard, can never change his spots.
An Ethiopian, his skin.
And, a die-hard foodie, her taste-buds.

The only worthwhile assets I have to my name, are my books.
And, most of them, have been bought second-hand.
I know, I know.
I should borrow.
But, these are books, we are speaking of!!!

I walk as much as I can.
My crawling metabolic rate demands it, as much, as Mother Earth does!

I try to be energy efficient.
And,in the process, seem to have metamorphosed into an obsessive-compulsive switch-offer. There have been occasions, when my penchant for putting off switches, have resulted in people having to perform their ablutions in the dark.

I try to conserve water.
But, with 2-3 baths a day, plus, the fact that they are all hot water baths, I, probably, should not list water conservation as an achievement.

And, this year, I intend to try composting organic waste in our backyard.
Mom's mantra of returning to earth, that, which has sprung from it, makes greater sense now, than it did years ago.

I am, no where near, where I would like to be.
But, I think I am on the right track.
After all, it is the grass-roots solutions, that drive positive, and, lasting change.

I believe, if, we were to look around us, and, try understand our surrounds, try nurture it, and, be a part of it, then, the world at large, would, automatically, become a nicer, greener, and, happier, place, for its inhabitants.

As much as we hate to admit it, the future of our home, does not lie in the hands of wily politicians, or, greedy industrialists.

It, rests, with each one of us.

I have heard, little children chant E for Earth, as they learnt their alphabets and baby words.

Will there come a time, in the foreseeable future, when our children will associate E with Extinction, instead of Earth?

Will we, wake up in time, to save ourselves?

The Bully Boy

I pounded the pavement beside my car impatiently. A hundred million thoughts about my current project ran through my mind, keeping pace with my furious strides. I had places to go....things to do....but my progress had been arrested by my driver, who seemed to have miraculously vanished while I had stepped out for a quick chore.

Patience has never been one of my virtues! Amidst the multitude of thoughts that crowded my head, there was a ember of anger directed at my absconding driver.

The ember soon became a blaze. In my anger, I failed to see an old fluffy dog sniffing about my feet.
But a moment later, my attention was arrested by a pair of soulful eyes, gazing up at me with hope shining through.
Food? She seemed to ask me. I haven't eaten in days, Lady, so how about you and me moseying over to that delicious kebab joint and sinking our fangs into succulent pieces of meat.
As I considered her offer, she thumped a rhythmic " Say Yes...Say Yes" chant with her straggly white and brown tail.

I have always been a sucker for the underdog, especially those of the canine kind. So, how could I resist the melting brown eyes set in her dear brown-white face? Not to mention the primeval tail thumps ? A few moments later, my friend Lassie was gleefully digging into a portion of tandoori chicken. And, the driver was yet to make an appearance.

I continued to muse and walk, this time without anger or impatience.
With Lassie by my side, I was willing to wait.
All at once, I felt a whizzing past my ankle. Lassie started.
It was a sharp stone!
Outraged, we both swung around. A few yards away stood a little boy in denim. He couldn't have been more than 8 and yet, his eyes glinted and gleamed with the unabashed malice of an adult. I suppose he expected Lassie to cower but she was emboldened by my presence and turned her attentions back to her meal. As I watched, the little brat hssted and psssted at her and distorted his face in the ugliest of expressions. When his bestial sounds & posturing failed to evoke a reaction of fear from her, he searched the ground for another object to fling at her. Anger welled up in me once more as the brat swooped down and threw another stone before I could get to him.
Behind me, I heard a yelp of pain and before me, a little mean spirit laughed with unholy glee.
So much for the innocence of youth....
My palms itched to box his ears.

But with remarkable restraint, I let him off with a glare and demanded to know how he would like to be teased and pelted with stones by someone bigger, stronger and meaner than he was. The brat glowered at me, obviously unimpressed by me. I could see Lassie look nervous as she felt the full impact of his gaze on her. As he picked the third stone, I drew myself to my full height and issued my sharpest No. A NO which brooked no refusal, holding veiled threats of aching ears and red rumps.

Much to my surprise, his face crumpled. And he burst into tears. Not of remorse as I was to find out.
As the child bawled, an obese woman draped in shocking pink emerged from the shadows. Holding the child protectively beside her, the amazon turned to me.
" Your son?"
" Haan* my son..what did you do to him? why is he crying?" She demanded angrily of me.
The sobs in the background grew in volume.
" Your son was teasing that dog and hurled 2 stones at it. I stopped him at his third"
" So what? It is only a stray dog, isn't it?"
" It does not mean that your son or you have the right to stone it"
" You are not the owner of the dog, na? When my son hurts your dog, you come and complain to me. But otherwise..."
" Otherwise what?" I demanded icily
A few people around us slowed to watch the battle of the amazons.
" What is this? You yell at a strange child because he threw stones at a strange dog? Have you no shame for scolding a child? People all over India stone dogs. In fact, they run over them also and you are making a fuss about a child throwing a stone? Why don't you go reform someone else?"
" I did not yell at your child, although what he really deserves is a sound spanking for his cruelty to a weaker creature...."
But before I could complete my tirade, a bearded old man interjected "That is our dog and your son had no business throwing stones at it. "
As the two of us gaped at the good Samaritan, he continued " I am the owner of the Kebab shop there and Brownie is our shop dog."
" But she has no collar or tags..How will anyone know it is not a stray? So, you cannot blame a child for not differentiating between a stray and a pet"
" Madam, It does not matter. Your son knew that Brownie did not belong to him, didn't he? So why did he tease and hurt it?"

The vision in pink was flustered. But I was now seething with indignation at the old man.

How could he assume that a creature could be harassed as long as it was 'owned' by the harasser? As I composed my words of protest, he directed a gentle smile my way. "Madam, some people do not understand the value of beings - humans or four legged ones. Or the emptiness of the concept of ownership of people and animals. You and I could have argued with her all evening but she would never understand. So I had to speak in the language she understood. Let us hope that this will make her and her son think a second time when they are tempted to stone a strange animal"

As the lady beat a hasty retreat with her now silent son in tow, I could not help but ask the old man if Brownie was indeed his shop dog. Once again, that gentle smile.

"No, she isn't." He replied. "We feed her everyday and she spends time around the shop. But does she belong to us? Not at all."

As I drove away leaving Lassie contentedly devouring the last of her meal, I was in a quandary.

Was the old man right to have taken the ownership route?

Or should I have stood my ground and argued about animal rights?

Which took precedence - the cause or the effect?

I will never know, will I?

A Time For Bread & Water ?

The recession is back. And this time, it seems scarier than ever. The media keeps churning out reports about plummeting stocks, credit crunches, bankruptcy of Companies and even Countries, disaster sales, layoffs and downsizing!!

Speculation is rife. The air is thick with fear and insecurity. Cost cutting has become the mantra of the day as businesses tighten their belts and gird their loins to ride the storm. Desperate times most definitely call for desperate measures.And I was not too surprised when I arrived at an office for a meeting this morning to find only one elevator operational. The other had been temporarily shut-down because the management did not trust its employees to voluntarily reduce the frequency of their rides. As I waited in the lobby, I was all too aware of an orphan telephone in the background which rang shrilly.. incessantly....and most annoyingly. There was no operator in sight....Perhaps he too had fallen victim to the recession. A harried gentleman who was waiting for the lift with me, kept answering the phone. He had an aura that screamed seniority and I was impressed by his willingness to attend to the lowly telephone in no man's land. All the more so when I heard him exasperatedly instructing subordinates to shepherd their visitors in themselves as the operator and day security for the building had been let go.

We, the gentleman and I, had waited 15 minutes before the elevator eventually opened its doors to reveal its insides crammed with youngsters...tighter than sardines in a can. Much to our surprise, none stepped out and the elevator doors shut in our face amidst giggles from the sardines within.
" Did they actually board the elevator on the 3rd floor, ride all the way down and then back to the second floor?" I incredulously asked the gentleman.

" Yes, indeed. The youngsters in this building actually ride the lift between single floors. The staircase is only a meeting spot where they catch up for their cuppa and hot gossip." He sighed deeply " This is the problem with the young new workers of today. The modern amenities that offices provide have spoilt them terribly and they are increasingly unwilling to stretch a little, even when the times are hard. And then they crib and fight when they are laid off. I don't understand why they are unable to realise that they have no reason to expect any Company to take care of them when they are unwilling to participate in the very same Company's survival efforts. "

His words rang in my ears long after we parted.
Back in my office, later on in the day, as I read reports of the now famous Jet Layoffs and the politicians who had jumped into the fray as defenders of the unemployed, I could not help but wonder out aloud how anyone could fault the airline considering the large employee costs that it incurred to keep their flying crew happy. A colleague who overheard me, raised an eye brow in silent query. And I found myself narrating the morning's incident to him.
Much to my surprise he agreed whole-heartedly. " Most of the youngsters of today have stardust in their eyes" he declared " They think their education, regardless of what it is, entitles them for a job, fat salaries and handsome perks. They lack the commitment to themselves - to learn, improve and grow, let alone to the Companies they work in . They are just interested in the easy money and status symbols - cell phone, laptop, bikes... And their arrogance is unbearable. Their attitude is my way or the highway...How does one deal with that?"
I wasn't very sure if this attitude pertained to youngsters only. Money, I suspect, has a way of turning any one's head. A lot of my peers in various industries,used to the good life, have had no compunctions about deserting the ship in search of greener pasteurs. For a moment, I thought about the staff at Jet Airways who had been taken off the roster without any warning. Imagine their horror the next morning, when realisation dawned that the non-appearance of their ride to work was not due to a flat or a break down but because they no longer had a job. Surely no one's arrogance could not stretch so far as to render them immune to the the reality of being unemployed.
"I have indicated to some of my subordinates that if the present trend continues, there will be no increments forthcoming in spring 2009. And can you believe it, they are not only upset about it but they also crib about the fact that our Company has tightened its spend on little luxuries like cabs, power, air travel, etc. How much will it the cutting of a couple of thousands help, is what they ask me. Can you imagine??? Instead of being grateful that they still have a job, they are cribbing."

Maybe, I told him, its time for all of us to realise that we need to forgo the butter, margarine and even the toast. And on that parting thought, I left to book my train tickets back home....

Viva La Compania!

Mayday Mayday Mayday....

Sometimes I amaze myself....
While I have been wondering how to balance my insane workload for the week and also make time for the little pleasures that my favourite city affords me, around me, the world as I know it seems to be crumbling into rubble.
This morning's headlines indignantly screamed that the Churches had been viciously attacked again...Vandalised and robbed by dastardly cowards in the darkness of the night. Quite understandably, the sentiments of the Christian community are hurt and they are now, up in arms. Amidst the finger pointing and the political blame game, the Chief Minister of Karnataka also confessed that the state had become a safe haven for terrorists.
And if that was not enough, the business pages only carried sombre reports about large scale lay-offs, liquidity crunches and businesses going bust. Even the normally frivolous Page 3 set the alarm bells clanging, with the announcement that Bangalore had been officially tagged as a 'highly insecure zone for working women'!!
The sky is indeed about to fall and I am no Chicken Little, clucking in paranoia.
It appears that the malaise has afflicted not just our nation but the world at large.... Pakistan, Afghanistan, Russia, USA, Spain, Germany....There seems to be no haven of peace left on this planet anymore.
Buried deep within the papers, there was also an article by Orcun Tezel about Green Being The Only Way Out. Considering the alarming rate at which the toxin levels are building up in our atmosphere, we, perhaps, won't have a planet to live on very soon...let alone a haven of peace. Who knows?
And why I am ranting in this vein?
I honestly do not know.
I woke up this morning with a sense of great unease caused by the realisation that all is not right in our world. And much to my dismay, I do not know how to set things right. Maybe this is the outcome of a premonition of impending danger. Or it is the sheer frustration of helplessness. It could also be anger rooted in the fear [and guilt] that things have spun out of control and may not be fix-able.
My emotions are not important in the larger scheme of things.
Knowledge is. As is for us to evaluate if we can afford to stave off reality anymore by submerging ourselves in the familiar....
Surely, even baby steps count.....


And hey, do check out:
21 Solutions To Save the World at http://www.foreignpolicy.com/story/cms.php?story_id=3783
26 ways to help save Planet Earth at http://www.geocities.com/EnchantedForest/8319/savethearth.html
Save the Planet at http://planetsave.com/ [BTW, the contributing writers' individual blogs are Fan-Tastic!!!]
How To Save The World at http://blogs.salon.com/0002007/

And if these didn't impress you much, GOOGLE...But don't give up!!