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Trinamool Victory Should Assure Another Three Decades of Left Front Rule & Beyond Politics

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Musings: 

Trinamool Victory Should Assure Another Three Decades of Left Front Rule


This one ought to have been titled ‘Musings’ in keeping with my blogging tradition, since I came up with it musing about my voting rights and choices. Actually, it was, until I reached the end and read it over. Now I want others to read it too, and that too, before they vote. Pity my brilliant ideas come so late. Still, better late than never. And so, the keyword dense eye catching (hopefully thought provoking) title.

I am serious, however. I really think that another Left Front rule is just waiting to happen, one with more audacity, more ‘Big Brother is Watching’ and ‘Big Brother Knows Best’ kind of attitude that has brought it to where it is now. This is not much of a puzzle to be figured out. How did the present Government last so long anyway? Apart from its unquestionably precise and efficient organizational skills, it is the Congress of the ’72 that assured this. Now, that memory has faded away and the apathy for the Left is so strong that people will vote for anyone but the Left. Trinamool offers itself as a choice, no matter the kind of choice, and people are willing to take it just to rub the Left’s nose in the dirt and say ‘how does that feel?’

Understandable, except for the fact that this time the Left was well and truly scared, and might have done a bit of house cleaning if they won. If they do not win, a Trinamool Government will convince the masses pretty soon that they were better off with the lesser evil, and the ’72 will be replaced by a 2011. Big Brother will know that they are the Biggest Brother of all. What will stop them from being even more smug, even more pretentious, even more interfering and even more everything else that is so despicable about them that people will right now opt for anyone but them? Nothing. They will know that people know now that there is no alternative. Finally the fact will be established, and a condescending Left will deign to come back in power and say ‘ok, lets see, where were we before ya’ll decided to start thinking for yourselves?’

Now TMC members will call me I don’t know what. TMC supporting intellectuals and common people will call this a subversive tactic to win votes for the Left, doubtless. All the rest will ask the well deserved question: How the heck do I know? Maybe the new Government will be better – after all, what could possibly be worse than the present one? May be, even if they are worse, the Left will do a house cleaning anyway when they come back. Maybe……… Right. I DO NOT KNOW.

I do have an imagination, however, which sometimes prompts me, on the basis of certain facts, to come to certain conclusions. Oh, and it takes the help of whatever logic my mind possesses. Lets come to the facts then. And by the way, this article is for self preservation. I want the Left to win this election. More importantly, I do not want TMC to come to power. I mean,really …!

The Facts

&

Beyond Politics


Before I got assigned to my current job there, Helencha was for me the name of a leafy vegetable akin to spinach, and Bagdah, a variety of crustacean.

In fact, Helencha Colony is a village and a Gram Panchayat in Bagdah Block, about nineteen kilometres away from Bongaon and seventeen short of the Bangladesh border. If you get off at Helencha Bajaar, you will find the road bifurcated: the one on your left goes towards Duttaphulia and the one straight ahead to Bagdah and Boyra.

About two and a half  kilometers beyond Helencha and about five kilometers to your right parallel to the road to Bagdah and Boyra is Ronghat Gram Panchayat comprising of villages Ronghat, Pulia and Rajkole and fourteen more. Pulia and Rajkole have the largest percentage of minority (read Muslim) population (read voter), approximately 55% and 45% respectively. Muslim population is indigenous to the region while the Hindus are mostly refugees from Bangladesh (or their descendants).

It is  significant that communal strife is the one thing that is missing in this politically active region.This used to be an area predominantly Congress. The Left Front somehow crept in and made a place for itself. With the disappearance of Congress from the Political scenario of West Bengal, Mamata Banerjee has found a way in and now with a feeble presence of original Congress followers still sticking to their beliefs and ways, a major section of the populace is supportive of Trinamool, hateful of CPIM and generally disdainful of the Left Parties like the Forward Bloc.

In 2008, near Eid, the Trinamool found a novel way of attracting minority voters. There is a Government approved cow slaughterhouse in Hariyarpur,a village in Ronghat Gram Panchayat. A few leaders had a brainwave and promised the Muslim Community that if elected, they would arrange for the same in every village.

Among them were Kartick Bayne, who had shifted to TMC in late 2007, but was a candidate of TMC supported Nirdal Congress (I) in 2008; Ramesh Shikdar, also Trinamool, and our very own Dulal Bor. Rumour has it that Didi is rather displeased with this person and so Upen Biswas has been roped in this time. Whatever.

The trio, along with others, went to Pulia and Rajkole with their full contingent, organized the Qurbani to prove their point in about four places. Five cows were slaughtered in the name of politics between ten and twelve in the morning and noon. By the time Ganapati Biswas (CPIM), then Panchayat Pradhan of Ronghat had information of this, everything was over.

Now a word about Ganapati Biswas: he was awarded the President’s award Nirmal Gram Puroshkar as Panchayat Pradhan. With that came five lakh Rupees to Ronghat Gram Panchayat and Project Sajal Dhara to supply water via pipes to all of Bagdah.  Public Health Engineering heads this with three projects, one at Kola with 1 crore 46 lakh Rupees investment and covers 13 villages. The pipeline has been completed, and construction of overhead tank is under way. Central Government bears 75% cost and the rest is borne by the State.

After the Qurbani stunt, Ganapati Biswas lost his position as Panchayat Pradhan and Kamalakshmi Biswas also lost.

Apparently, the two incidents are related, and the TMC had played its cards well. The real story makes us a little hopeful, however. There was about 2% change in vote in favour of Trinamool because of the slaughters. The rest of the votes were lost due to various reasons including internal strife amongst the Left Front leaders and because of the fact that Ganapati Biswas was at that time given employment in a college in Helencha (Dr. B. R. Ambedkar Satabarshiki Mahavidyalaya)  and people were apprehensive that he may not be as effective as Panchayat Pradhan any longer.

The Motua, a sect on whom I would love to write something informative sometime later, were alienated by the Helencha Local Committee Secretary of the CP(I)M when he spoke disparagingly of their idols Thakur Harichand and Thakur Guruchand, both pioneers of education. This, and other minor reasons cost the Left the seat of MLA which was occupied for the last twenty five years by Sri Kamalakshmi Biswas (Forward Bloc).

Kamalakshmi babu, as I call him,is one of the most honest and perhaps for that very reason, eccentric individuals I have ever known. He has all along refused to put his name in plaques wherever he has done any work as an MLA, and so the people are generally under the impression that he has done nothing during his tenure. Well, that is a different story. Kamalakshmi babu was replaced by Sri Dulal Bar, whose claim to fame is breaking of furniture at the Assembly, and more recently, being accused of involvement in the murder of a housewife. My point being, even then, acting the Big Brother way by a half wit LCS who now is seen getting real friendly with the Motua, alienated a section of the masses so much so that they would vote for anyone but the Left. It did not matter to them who they would be replacing with what.(Ahem).

I was wondering: if this area where people wake up with politics in their mind and go to bed thinking and dreaming of politics can avoid getting communal, why can’t the rest of us? Perhaps we ought to conduct a research to find out if genes or regional anomaly or whatever is responsible for such conduct. Perhaps we could then mass produce an anti communal vaccine. And second, if only the Left Front were a little less full of mean minded high handed individuals, we could avoid such disturbing incidents in the name of politics.

Thankfully, the TMC is an unorganized body and could not conceive of Qurbani in all the villages of Ronghat Gram Panchayat at once. Thankfully they do not have that organizational capacity. On the other hand, thanks to the Left Front, we could very well be looking forward to a TMC government who are not organized enough to be as predictable a threat as the Leftists are. The common man is at stake while our so called leaders fight it out.

I cannot help but remember what Aristotle said about this common man: that whoever disdains politics and keeps his hands clean risks having an inferior man rule over him. I do not know how many people I am superior to, but I really wish more of us had kept our hands less clean. I might just make time from my usual schedule of eight hour daily commute to the workplace and taking care of forty odd cats and dogs, to join the Left Front as an official member if TMC comes to power this time. Not much use sitting on the sidelines and cribbing, hm?

Written by kapush

April 24, 2011 at 2:08 am

About Depression and, … other things

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I think I am going to treat this post like a diary and keep adding entries to it. Not a healthy habit, obviously, writing consistently about depression. Still, there is something I call ‘Creative Depression’ . It is the kind that people with some amount of creative ability may indulge in so that they may – well, create.

Sounds ridiculous, maybe, but it is a fact. The depression is real, as are its causes. Nothing is a fantasy – just richer in content than your run of the mill, average depression that simply puts you out of phase and fills you with lethargy.

Look at me: I am typing in the middle of the night because I am creatively depressed. You do NOT have to tell me that this piece of writing isn’t Art. Or very creative. I know that. I also know that I have not written in ages, and if this bit of musing converts into the (virtually) written word, I’ll take it.

In any case, it proves my point… but wait, I am not trying to prove anything here!! I think I’ll rephrase that : In any case, it illustrates my point – Creative Depression is the kind of depression that helps you create. There you have it. Elementary.

This kind of depression is often brought on by cloudy skies, windy afternoons and cloudy skies, and thunderstorms (mixed reaction here: also makes you euphoric sometimes).

The nastiest of all depressions, I find, is the one that kind of hovers between the Creative and the Lethargic. It can go either way, or both ways.

Imagine that it has been hot as hell for days. Imagine that you have prayed for rain. And now it has rained. In drops, then in buckets.

After that there is no rain, just the wetness. The roads are wet or damp. The trees look damp or wet. The sky is dull. When the sun shines, it is hot again but the sky is still dull, and you see the dampness all around.

And, there is no wind. No cool, or even warm summer breeze. There is no movement, just damp vegetation and walls and roads and an after-taste of rain that has been. The weather is cooler than it was, yes, but uncomfortable somehow.

I don’t know about you, but this kind of weather really, really gets me down. Oh – and, please remember this: if you want to get depressed real good, you have to be alone or relatively alone, and preferably with a lot of work . If you are a party animal that spends days and nights in an air  conditioned environment you are not likely to feel anything but a hangover, maybe.

Or so I have been told.

Not being judgmental here. The capacity to feel depressed because of the weather is probably not one of the finer points of being a good human being or even a bad one. You are not any less if you have made arrangements to not allow the weather to affect you.

However, I would personally feel secure knowing that you are aware that there is a weather out there that changes now and then. Why? Because I would feel that my world is real, at least as real as yours is. That stamp of approval is necessary for me these days.

This is not an answer to an examination question, and I am not going to elaborate. This post is just an extended tweet, largely meaningless but for the person who wrote it and some kindred souls that may empathise with it.

I have to see whether I really use this post as a diary.

Written by kapush

May 24, 2010 at 8:47 pm

Posted in musings

Tagged with , , , ,

Mother can cook

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I am not going to write ‘in my opinion’ repeatedly or even once (apart from this once) in the course of what is to follow. It is my opinion that I write about. To improvise on Abraham Lincoln: I do shine my own shoes.

One of the shortest routes to emancipation for women is to retain their maiden name – or surname actually. One wonders what is achieved by such practice. Obviously the so-called identity that is linked to a name is preserved. Or it becomes a combinatin of one name and two surnames. Imagine what would happen if the latter two were to be, say, Roy Chowdhury and Bhattacharya. One long full signature, that! Jokes apart, there are perhaps more worthwhile things to do in this imperfect world of ours. I do not wish to be both misunderstood and despised, therefore I will clarify: a woman who has otherwise proved herself (to herself) by doing something useful – anything she decides is useful, has the right to assert her independent identity by keeping her surname intact after marriage. Those in regular jobs and regular lives and with no contribution out of the ordinary are taking a shortcut to emancipation. Further clarification: the typical housewife does a wonderful job of managing the homefront, and is in no way lesser than a career woman – not even one that manages both her career and her home. Still, what have these two classes of woman really done to claim a different identity for themselves than the usual? They have simply shown that they are good for something. That by itself does not constitute exceptional contribution, or usefulness. Loosely speaking, we are all useful, all good for something. However, if that usefulness is limited to one’s own survival only, then it is hardly anything out of the ordinary.

What I am talking about here is leadership – or passive following – for a cause larger than one’s own periphery of existence. It could be anything, don’t ask me. Begin with World Peace if you are ambitious. Failing that, devise a plan to take out the garbage from the immediate vicinity- not just your own comminity. Or perhaps get together some elderly folks to arrange for workshops to revive the lost art of hand woven sweaters. Anything larger than your circle of essential existence counts. However, once you are at it, you will probably have little time to worry about whether you want to revive your maiden name or not. Romeo (yes, the character was speaking, not Shakespeare) may not have been entirely wrong, but one must admit there is magic in a name. As the Americans are so fond of saying: You look like a Fred!

What I would like to know after all this pseudo intellectual staff is whether the children are going to inherit their mother’s maiden surname as well. A survey in some newspaper some years back showed all the emancipated ladies saying that they would like their children to bear their father’s name. Very curiouser, wouldn’t you say?

I have a solution, one that I did not try to implement in case of my own family because of certain very good but personal reasons: let the boy carry the father’s name, and the girl the mother’s. That way it will be possible for the mother’s father’s surname to live on if the girl takes after the mother and retains her maiden name after marriage too. The boy can try and see what he can do with his legacy – and his wife. The inevitable solution seems to be to beget two children per emancipated family, one girl and one boy. Perhaps astrologers will be of help here since the only other way of determining the sex of the foetus leads to someplace usually dirty and full of mosquitoes and humans with questionable manners and intentions sitting right outside.

Suitably confusing, I hope, but eminently sensible if I may say so. I should think identities are preserved naturally with one’s achievements: Jaya Bachchan was known always as Jaya Bhaduri to our generation and Tina Ambani is what we have recently adapted to. I can think of none of my lady Professors going the emancipated way although I can not in my wildest dreams believe to come anywhere near them in knowledge, or ability to impart education. I personally know very few males who can. Funny thing is that this is probably the first time in my life that I have consciously classified my Teachers into genders. They had always been individuals, and apart from what constitutes the argument of this article, they still are.

Collecting the previous line of thought here: I wonder if the concept of Daddy’s Girl has something to do with this phenomenon of preservation of identity. After all, the only thing that is being preserved is the father’s surname. The woman strong enough to assert herself cannot possibly be dumb enough to have not noticed that. If it were her own identity she wanted to protect in an otherwise male dominated society, she simply would have chosen to remain a name without a surname tagged on for effect. I don’t know if that is legally possible, but emancipation is not easy. If necessary, efforts ought to be made to pass relevant laws to that effect. You need to work for it if you want Identity of all things! Anyway, the way it stands, certain women simply cannot bear the insecurity that marriage may bring to them, the sense of losing oneself and surrendering to a whole new person and his household customs. The very way one is used to being addressed changes along with living space and routes for travel. The newly married woman is wrenched out of her former existence of her own volition – because people calling her husband ‘ghar jamai’ will simply not fit in her agenda of emancipation as also because that would be a more violent way of disturbing status quo. So here they are, leaving behind every little thing they grew up with and going away to begin a new life. It is not so unfair that they may want to retain a little something while that happens. The more self conscious and therefore insecure ones would. I will not talk about intelligence here: that is an elitist approach and not acceptable. Intelligence, like most other concepts, is highly relative. How come there are so many male chefs is a common point of argument. Women are not intelligent enough to choose as profession what they naturally acquire from their mothers. They leave that to the male: the intelligent monkey stands out. That was just a figure of speech by the way. Shaker’s Radhuni is my favourite show. Well, it is my mother’s, and I sometimes watch.

Mother can cook fantastic is a commonplace, but when the father does the occasional mutton curry, he is the hero who can do it all!-but does not, since there are people who are there for the job, namely, the mother-class.

Still, one must have something to write on… and emancipation and the shortcuts associated are a wonderful subject. It is easy to get noticed, and better than a scandal. I am referring to the likes of myself here, who cash in on such emancipation. May all the independent ladies live long and prosper!

p.s. I am male, and I have retained my maiden name after marriage, and you can contact me for cooking lessons via my website kapush.net

Written by kapush

March 12, 2009 at 10:04 am

Posted in musings

Tagged with

A Vanishing Essence

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Being a somewhat embittered man fast approaching middle age, it is difficult for me currently to have the Puja Spirit – as they have the Christmas Spirit in the West. Still, even bitterness must have its place (because it is there); one perhaps ought to give vent to it from time to time and on different occasions. And what better occasion than the Pujas: what better context? The essence of Durga Puja is supposed to be the celebration of a cleansing and a new hope. I refrain from using the word regeneration since the killing of evil only shows a new beginning. The only regeneration in this context was by Raktabeeja .

29-09-06_0049

Well, we have our own ideas of cleansing today. We call it culling. We also do it in front of children, and even employ children to do it: to hunt down and wring the neck of a live hen or duck in lieu of money and the obvious fun involved. Many years back, there was a television serial, which showed the events that led to the Partition. One of the ways that the extremist outfits were depicted as employing to toughen their young recruits was to ask them to kill a hen – by chopping its head off with a sharp weapon. Either they had not thought of the more primal (or modern) method of using the bare handed wringing technique or the director/scriptwriter had not.

We also cut down trees for progress and plant saplings. We do many other things, but that is hardly the point. The point is that nobody seems to care. When an ‘Artist’ displayed a live dog as an exhibit and starved him to death, he was invited by a reputed organization to repeat his ‘artistic feat’. Acts being endorsed, carried out and applauded make me wonder if I am the one who should seriously consider changing – for the better, of course. Some years back an advertisement emphasized the value of its product being small and compact. To drive home the point, a young lady was shown shoving books off a shelf like so much rubbish and replacing them with compact disks with a smile on her face that spoke of some supreme achievement. A Television Channel has put up an advertising campaign recently. Huge billboards on roadsides mention incidents and persons in irreverent manner and dubious rhyme and say that none of them is news unless this channel broadcasts it. One such billboard has Rizwanur’s photograph, and his name rhyming with another, with the very same message. An Advertising agency (with real life people who would perhaps like to call themselves artists) created the campaign, and the Channel in question found it appealing.

Which brings my ramblings to the incident last year when a certain Puja was inaugurated by Rizwanur’s mother. She allowed herself to be turned into an exhibit because she is a mother. Every little bit of public exposure helped to bring her that much closer to getting justice. And the Puja Managing Committee must have been beaming with the brainstorming that added such a unique twist to usual celebrations. This is creative thinking today, and Aesthetics.

I have this idea about a civilized society: that it is primarily defined by its public transport system and by what it does that it does not absolutely have to do, like realizing that animals deserve a decent life as much as we do, and acting upon that realization. Fortunately for a lot of people, I am a rather insignificant person, or they would all be uncivilized.

When we were children, the Puja season could always be felt, and smelt. There it was in the air, in the sunlight, in the sky and the lacey clouds and in the green of the trees. It was all pervading, and no matter what one’s station in life, pretty much everyone felt it too deeply. Before the advent of Satellite Television and ‘Promoting’, time moved relatively slowly. It only picked up pace during the early ‘90s. For me, it was as if I lived in a different place altogether, not just time. Perhaps I did. The landscape has changed so much that it is difficult not to believe that that was a different world altogether. I am not exactly waxing nostalgic here: anyone in their mid thirties would know, especially if they grew up in the suburbs. Change, they say, is inevitable. The more things change the more they are supposed to remain the same. I disagree on both counts.

When we were students of Literature, there was this question that demanded a thorough discussion: Why Does Tragedy Please? One of the answers to that question is what might justify this acerbic piece of writing during a time of imminent festivities. Without going into Academics proper, it probably pleases because it makes us think. We don’t often do that. Just as we don’t often realize that we are breathing. When we do, the process so instinctive becomes almost laborious. Try it and see for yourself. Clutton Brock’s essay on Art is still in the Calcutta University curriculum. The author says that the most significant point about Art is that it allows you to stay in the present and appreciate that moment without your thoughts wandering off into the past or the future. Art is still taken very seriously, but like car owners, artists are numerous today. For those of us that drive two wheelers, the roads are a trifle distressing with so many drivers and so little driving ethics. Today everything, including income, is valued by how much it is disposable. Things are not built to last. They are built to serve, and make way for newer models with more functionality. Sometimes it is a good thing too. Welcome to the age of ‘free’ gifts where one has to wait holding a token to receive the gift. And one is, or shall I say, more than one is happy to do just that.

Art and Aesthetics were seriously reflected upon at one point of time, and there used to be lots of debates around what Art is. Today, probably because the artists and art critics of the yesteryears have already talked so much, we tend to DO. There seems to be less thought involved, because there is this deadline lurking somewhere in the next minute or so, and of course, the question of novelty. Even in tradition, there must be novelty. In this age of TRP, Success and failure are defined by how many sponsors one can draw, and how many advertising slots one can successfully offer. Tradition by itself has become meaningless. Not just tradition, the old value system, whatever flaws it might have had, has been, quite simply and easily forgotten and wiped out. No one seems bothered about anything anymore. Art is everywhere, in the billboards, in your drawing room in the form of television commercials and masterclass prints, in your carefully landscaped housing apartments, and in the clothes that you buy from the many boutiques that are so easy to find today. Everyone is constantly thinking about Art. Artists never had it so easy. It is irrelevant what is produced as Art so long as it sells. I am not an Artist per se, but I do my doodles, and one budding agent had once asked me to copy my own painting for sale. I was flabbergasted then, but learnt later from one of my Artist friends that it was a common enough practice, especially among Bengali Artists.

Holding an Art Exhibition at the Puja site is nothing criminal. Somehow, it brings Art closer to the masses and demystifies it. Much as today’s Television Channels and its Talk Shows have demystified the big screen actors. However, whether it is Art on Canvas or on screen, the illusion that is integral to it makes it what it is. Demystifying it, even if it is essential somehow, also robs it of much of its charm. Almost like explaining the tricks a magician is going to perform before he does it. This also makes it a commonplace. Elitist as this may sound, Art is not supposed to be a commonplace. It is supposed to bring out the best in you; it is supposed to be a creative force that transforms reality and transmutes it through an alteration of the viewer’s perception. A whole new world is created when a painting is viewed, really viewed, in a gallery or simply hung on the wall in all its dignity. There was a reason that the Mughal architecture employed and encouraged the use of actual space, space that made you realize that where you stood gaping was grand, and you were not. The sheer vastness of things, their exclusivity, and their own niche is what adds to grandeur, and class. If you merchandise something that is supposed to be part of a long standing heritage, you are bound to market only that part of it which is marketable and lose the essence of it that in fact is IT.

Senior Artist Shri Niranjan Pradhan was seen answering a few queries on the modern ‘artistic’ depictions of Maa Durga these days. What he put so succinctly is what I have been trying to get at thus far: the myth of Durga is that of a warrior, a destroyer, and above all, a Mother. The question that one should ask while appreciating the novel efforts is whether the popular ways of depicting the idol have been successful in incorporating all the elements. The answer is perhaps easy to find when you look around yourself even without looking at the efforts (which, admittedly, is unfair to the artist and the puja committee members). This trend began with the advent of colour television when the traditional audio rendering of the Mahalaya was so exquisitely transformed into the visual medium and broadcast triumphantly. It continued with marketing of Mahalaya cassettes and then compact disks to enthusiastic consumers who broadcast the same loudly on their own audio devices continuously both before and after the Pujas, and yes, even in the afternoon. The essence of a thing was fast losing importance, and soon it was completely forgotten.

This is the new world of freedom of personal choice where one is not compelled to wait with anticipation for the moment when it time for the ritual to be heard in the pre dawn state and in between waking and falling asleep again. I don’t know if there are many people of our age who heard the ritual in its entirety without falling asleep somewhere along the way and then waking up to its magical strains nearing the end, heralding the beginning of the wait. Those seven days following the Mahalaya seem to me very different from the seven days that we have now.

For me, this year, the Puja has already happened when workers at a certain factory worked one extra day to contribute their pay as well as almost the entire amount collected for Vishwakarma Puja (the usual budget is around two lakh rupees) to victims of flood in Bihar. Apart from the obvious self importance that a published work gives to the author, this, more than anything else is probably why I have even bothered to write this article at all.

(Published in Utsav 2008, a Hindustan Times special supplement magazine).

Written by kapush

March 12, 2009 at 9:35 am

Posted in musings

musings again…

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in 1995 i was in dehradun for a couple of months. trees everywhere, and shrubs, and green in general. some of the buildings fitted right in: the bungalow types, or even the mansions that were tastefully constructed. they looked at home. the trees looked comfortable housing them, growing around them. the pump-houses and the small white-washed government constructions looked out of place. i felt uncomfortable around them. weird feeling, actually, – just because something doesnt appear to fit in is no reason to feel ‘uncomfortable’. maybe because they represent the ugly side of authority: intruding upon people, asking questions, making rules and imposing them… the uniformed half wits that tell you ‘yahan jana mana hain’ , or ask suspiciously ‘aap ka kya kaam hain?’ i was once almost shot by an RPF at the Talapark Rail-yard when i had gone there for sketching. not being an elitist here, but there ought to be the presence of a minimum amount of intelligence in creatures who have legal rights to carry firearms and use them too.

the stark look of those pump houses (i dont know why i tend to believe that they were all pump houses) was ugly and oppressive. i am probably overreacting here, or overfelt there… but thats the way i felt. they appeared ruthless, forcing themselves upon the greens and looking on with a certain smugness that comes of a sense of security bred by mediocrity and abuse of power.

i saw another pump house the other day from the tea stall that i sometimes breakfast in. this wasnt a pump house though: just a toilet, nondescript, white washed, stark, with a lush green foliage in the background. the newly built compound of the flat was right next to a garden. somehow, this pump house didnt look ugly. our area is nowhere as green as dehra, and the greenery behind this construction actually looked good, not oppressed. the bit of nature was a kind of relief when put against all the buildings around it. it looked nice and small and perfectly in sync with the white structure. i wonder how this tasteless building would have looked elsewhere. relativity is a curious thing.

the pic that comes with this post has nothing to do with it. just thought of adding it…

Written by kapush

June 28, 2007 at 8:28 pm

musings…

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never did understand this compulsive need to blog… u want to talk, and invite others to listen too: what is this? ego? insecurity? boredom with the real world? well, look who’s talking. i remain on the net for.. how many hours a day?
still, now that i have my own blog – dont know how long it will last though – i feel like writing too. this has to be a disease of some kind. the need to feel satisfied with one’s own musings is a healthy disease i suppose. but i am serious about the quarrel bit. here we have finch who just chickened out. CHICKEN FINCH. hope there will be other more enthusiastic visitors. the art of decent quarrel is lost in this day of shrugging and ‘oh its a free country’ thing. free country my foot. but more on that later. a good quarrel is when u r not being abusive, but not backing out of anything either, and supporting urself with logic and, if possible, humour. oh, and u dont need a real topic to quarrel do u? agree to disagree and blah blah blah on anything, and see how far that goes. something like creative writing. some people talk, and u want to listen. they dont have anything particularly interesting to say, but u do listen. they talk well. add that skill to substance curved out of nothing (which is quite a feat wouldnt u say? ), and u have a nice little quarrel on hand.
i’ll enlighten u further on this later.

Written by kapush

June 9, 2007 at 8:25 pm