Hablu

Hablu was a neighbourhood boy. At one time we lived down a small narrow lane off Lansdowne Road, and Hablu was something short of a street urchin.....except that he was quiet, dignified and never behaved like the other street-boys. His father, I remember use to work in the Ramakrishma Mission Hospital........certainly not as a doctor. His mother, Bakuldidi did the occasional sewing for my mother and helped with the cooking when there were guests. Hablu came to our house with his mother. He did not go to school. He did not and could not study. He was too dumb. In those days in the sixties, dyslexia, autism, learning disorder etc was not perhaps too wellknown. He could not learn his lessons. Period. Therefore he did not go to school.

My sister and I brought home a constant stream of abandoned kittens and runover dogs. Most of these were treated by the vet. Some lived and shared our home. Some left us heart broken. I once brought home a pupppy. My sister had measles then and Mother put her foot down. A stern "NO" was the verdict. Hablu came to the rescue. Hablu fell in love with the puppy. I could have fought Mothers "NO". Dad could have been brought into the scene. I was very, very good at throwing tantrums. None of these were needed. One look at Hablu's shining eyes, and I knew the puppy would be well looked after. The skinny brown pup transformed Hablu. He looked after it. Fed it. Walked all the way to the Vet's for regular treatment. Hablu was no longer a dumbo. For a person who had learning difficulties he picked up knowledge on animals and animal behaviour without any trouble. He learnt at the Vets. He learnt from us. My mother bought him books on dogs and he devoured those books written by English vets in English. Of course we helped him to read. My Mother read out to him in the kitchen and Hablu would read after her. By the time Hablu was ten years or so, he rejoined school. Managed to overcome his learning difficulties. Passed his term end Exams. Passed his school leaving Exams. All because of that scrawny puppy Chitto (for that is what he was named), who won Hablu's heart.

I grew up and moved out of my parental home. However once in a while I got news of Hablu. He studied Veterinary Science. Became a Vet. I went to his wedding in 1989 .....on Sajani's 5th birthday. I got the news through my Mother when his children were born.

This story does not re-affirm my faith in the human race in any way. I do not trust the human race too far.... certainly not enough to put my faith in it. Yes, it reaffirms my faith in animals. The power of a scrawny puppy to rehabilitate poor Hablu never ceased to amaze me.

This post comes up because during the Kali Puja weekend I chanced upon a half-dead kitten on Rifle Range. A hit and run case. With the help of a local rickshaw (who took no payment) I took it it to the nearby Vet (once again the rickshaw wallah's suggestion). The Vet turned out to be Hablu. I was overjoyed. Hablu had eyes only for his patient. I left the kitten with him along with my phone number..... in case the kitten survived. Hablu rang up this morning with the news that the kitten is now fine and would I care to have her back. I hesitated. Hablu offered an alternative. Would I object if he gave the kitten to a little girl in his neighbourhood?

"The girl has lost her mother from cancer, Didi, perhaps a kitten would do her good. The family is willing. Would you mind, Didi?"

So typically Hablu. Time does a full circle, does it not?

Ha Ha Lalgarh

So much happening at Lalgarh. Such unrest. So much bloodshed. How did this name LALGARH come up? Thirty years back I knew this area like the back of my hand. There was no Lalgarh. No garh of any kind. It was no defence station. Peace loving people eking out a living from the relatively infertile soil and an abundance of forest products. No gunshots, no bloodshed, no sense of indignity. Such a quiet and serene area.

Lalgarh? HA. Whatever happened to those enchanting villages with their lyrical names? Where is Mohuldiha? Jochhanchar? Chikantila? Bangriposi?.........mon udasi

bajai bansi

banser bansi...................

Wide expanse of red earth meeting at some far off point a blue sky which looks almost white in the mid day sun. Shallow rivers, with sandy bottoms and the wonderful feel toes sinking in the soft mud of these rivers. The Kuher river like a sheet of beaten silver in the Dol Purnima moonlight. The dappled forest floor of Sal forests......on another moonlit night. I can go on and on and on........

And the people. The simple, earthy people who never had malice in their mind. When did they learn to hate? To kill? Whatever happened to their Danu Baba to practiced non violence and amity. They never wanted money. They never wanted jobs. They were already much more "developed" than their urban counterparts......even twenty years back.

In the city, humanity has no value. In my Mohuldiha of yesteryears, I went about the country side without a care, without a penny in my pocket. Yet had shelter, food, and mohua to boot. I never felt threatened. Never ever.

Constant deprivation, regular taunting, incessant exploitation and organised rape of humanity........birth of LALGARH.

I hang my head in shame.

'.......no more than a packet of cigarettes'

I wonder how many know this story. People in the publishing industry surely would, but others??? I doubt.

Way back in 1935, Allen Lane of Bodley Head Publishers was waiting for a train on Exeter station. He wanted some reading material......to read on the train. His choice was limited to popular magazines and a few poorly published and equally poorly written paperbacks. This definite lack of quality literature in paperback set Lane thinking. He was sure there would be a market for paperbacks. Not too many could afford to buy hardcovers. Lane knew that well enough.

His wisdom and acumen in the publishing industry was evidently immense, because he founded a publishing house that brought out the best of literature.....thrillers, classics, historical masterpiece, poetry, autobiography, reference books, all the best novels. All in paperback. At an ever-so-reasonable price. He even had them colour coded to help readers distinguish the genre.

Lane had a vision......he was adamant his publishing house should produce books that sold from a railway station to a chain store, from a book-shop to a tobacconists. All should be priced reasonably. In his own words '...... no more than a packet of cigarettes'.

Well, Lane kept his word and readers over the world helped him. Today the company is one the the most recognised publisher.

From orange to yellow, to green, to purple, to blue....I was brought up on these books.. Nice soft, foldable books, that fitted in my blazer pocket, and went conveniently behind an atlas at Prep time.

Thank you Mr. Lane. Thank you Penguin Books.

My Cats

There has been a couple of queries about my cats. For general information......my family of cats include

SKIPPY. Old Grandmother. Gentle. The most loving. A Lady-Cat. Reads me like a book.

MONTY. Named after the illustrious DN Mountford.He is a little over 4 years old. Monty is a Chartered Accountant by qualification. He goes to office everyday. Comes back for lunch, and then by 6pm.

CHICOBAC. Chico meaning 'baby' and bac is Welsh for 'darling little one'. Therefore 'Baby Darling'. Shantam named the little motherless kitten in all sincerity. Chico is hardly a cat. He is better than a dog. Knows all the tricks. Can open the fridge. Listens to Bach. Watches full length action movies on the laptop. Only on the laptop. Chico is 3 years old.

IAGO. The latest. About 2 months old. The name says it all !! Beats Machiavelli hollow.

Communication

At one time there was only the Trunk Call for long distance calls. A greatly awaited event. The whole locality knew when one was on the Trunk Call line. It involved a fair degree of screaming.

Then came the Lightning Calls and PP Calls and what not.

Parallel to the Trunk Call days was the daily post....the postman. And sometimes the telegram.

In time, came the STD. Subscribers Trunk Dialing. Direct dialing. Anywhere. No screaming.

With this came the Internet and the computer.

One had to look for phone booths and STD centres to call home. Keeping in mind the metre rates. Computer access and Internet access was not easy either. One had to steal a few minutes of Net time at work to check and send personal emails. This too had a charm.

Now everyone has a laptop with wifi facilities. A mobile phone. Yet, communication is prioritised.

Calls are not taken. Not returned. A call taken may mean a snarl over the phone. One is left with the feeling '......perhaps i shouldn't have called.' Email access is ever so easy. Yet, mails are not answered. Ignored.

I long for the good old Trunk Call days, with the postie coming twice a day.

Research

Unfortunately (or fortunately) I am one of those old fashioned type who still reads books. I read for fun. I read to earn a living. I read to pass time. I read because I enjoy reading......AND I mean ordinary paper books. The kind you can hold and fold and smell and tell (when on a shelf).

I am also one of those old-fogies who actually go to the Library to read and research. Yes, I do have a laptop. I have desktops at work and home. I read on the Internet a fair bit.I write on the Internet. At the same time I spend long hours in the library. I browse. I read. I reflect. I look out of the tall windows and dream a bit. My mind painstakingly analyses every bit of information.....even what I learnt 30 years back. I reject some, accept some, evaluate some and come to my own conclusions. These thoughts are mine and I suppose (at least I do hope) there is some sort of intellectual property rights protection. At the end of the day I write what I feel has to be written . I teach what I know and endevour to learn. I quench my thirst be it World Food Shortage or the makings of a Rachals. How else would I survive if I did not read?

The students I teach are averse to what I call reading. The sense of research and individual fact finding is lacking. A laptop connects them to Google and that is the beginning of the end. They rarely ever see the inside of a Library. Google is their weapon and Wikipedia their Holy Grail......the fount of all their wisdom. Google has become a part of everyday language....like Xerox, or Hoover. Academicians are weighed and judged by the number of strikes on the Google search engine !!!!!

Any material, any name, any product can be Googled. Nevermind the fact that information regurgitated by Google is suspect at best and utterly wrong at worst. Most students do not know (or think its best to be ignorant about it) that Wikipedia entries can be edited, and are edited. They are written, then re-written and then re-re-written by people who are not necessarily the best minds in the business. E reading gives little scope for reflection, simply because the links are too many, too frequent and most important most certainly not the scholars own views. At the end of the exercise the scholar, the student, the researcher comes out with an undigested opinion, quite half-baked. A little reading of the old fashioned kind (from a book.....in the Library) brings forward a questioning mind........not an accepting mind. In our times our minds were trained to question the question.....not merely to answer it. In fact I still practice it.

This new breed of scholars and their research submissions have been dubbed as Pap Scholars and Pap Submissions. The word coming from German or Dutch origin meaning baby food. Soft, mushy, gruel to be used as a supplement for normal healthy diet for infants. This is what the students now depend on. Not the hard core concepts, not good philosophies, not stand-alone journals, but Googled pap from Wikipedia. It's tantamount to intellectual or academic pap for the soft-in-the-head.

This same generation is termed as White Bread Generation in University circles. The coinage came from a Professor (Tara Brabazon) in the UK who declared that this methodology of research is like white bread.......filling , but without any nutritional content. Empty calories for the empty minds. White Bread seems particularly apt for the generation that is not interested in the meat of the matter.

How inordinately indolent can ones intellect be to read and then cut-copy-paste.....ready for submission. Does not the brain take in the matter and come to an individualistic conclusion? Has the scholar come to the University level after 15 years of training to have no opinion of his own?Should Google be the only source of information? Unfortunately, it very often is.

Google has become nearly synonymous with research. Once Wikipedia puts the matter or information on the Internet, it stays there, to be edited and re-edited and eventually stray far from the truth. Something akin to the old Nazi saying.....' if you repeat a lie often enough it begins to seem like truth'.

Oh, I am not forbidding the Wiki search. Who am I to forbid such liberties? The Wiki or the Google search engine can be the first port-of-call. Do go on to the more hard core material. Read books, read journals (even JStore will do), reflect, discern, discuss and above all analyse. Do not accept anything at face value. Learn to read. Learn to think. Learn to write.

I guess, a large part of the problem is because of us Professors. We do not motivate. Do not inspire. At times, maybe do not teach. To my huge student community .......I hope I did instill some sense into you. Apologies if I did not and have not.

Words

'' Smile, an everlasting smile

A smile can bring you near to me

Don't ever let me find you gone............."

RIP Stephen Gately

RIP Shantam

RIP Our Rachals.

Never gone....always on my mind and in my heart.