In my world of stories

It was just over a year when I wrote about my boyish pleasure of arranging my books and stepping back after placing each book in its right - well, maybe it should go there... or perhaps there... now, it does look fine - place and cupping my hands in glee. I am mighty ashamed of the way I behaved then, lusting for more books to appear from the cartons, pretending that I had a few more books stashed away somewhere else, chiding myself for having so many books and not having read them all - in short, taking turns to act like a reprimanding mother and prancing child. It seemed like yesterday because I had re-arranged my books once again before I brought them all back to Madras. With several overflowing cartons of books now, I am sure I have twice as many books as I had when I last wrote about my stash. May my coffers overflow!! 

But this time I do not intend writing about the authors I have or the books I think everyone should read. I do not wish to talk about the exciting job of creating categories and figuring out which book belongs to which category (would Bend Sinister be a favourite or a fiction piece or a classic? Should Harold Bloom come under classics or general? By the way, how did I define classic?). It is not because I have already done that before, but because I realised an ulterior motive of mine behind collecting so many books. I shamelessly faced this truth a few years ago when I watched Sabrina (the Harrison Ford version) and today when I read Orhan Pamuk. 

Sabrina's (Julia Ormond) father (John Wood) made some statement (and I am unable to find the script of the movie) about how much he loved reading and hence, took the job of a chauffeur. I am not sure if I will allow myself to be quoted on that. That day, I thought that was the most romantic dialogue I had heard in a very long time. People thought the movie was a romantic one for totally different reasons!

Today, Pamuk made me realise one of the reasons why I hand pick my books and build this tremendously large collection of books (I am sure there are larger collections, but this is considered large in the clique of nomads). There are several reasons, but this one was lurking in the shadows for a while and I was startled to see this midget of a reason, brightly clothed and still hopeful of fruition. 

I always wanted to have a son (but now I have shifted loyalties) whom I could seat on my knee and read to. I always dreamed of long houred scenes where I would read to him, wonder aloud at the choice of words, imagine conversations with the author to gain entrance into his thoughts as to why he said this and not that and why his characters did this and not that, enact scenes with my son and eventually play games where we quote dialogues and pray hard that the other person doesn't guess the name of the character and story (well, chocolates are better won than given and shared in the sympathy of family!). I would imagine scenes like this:

Him: Appa, what is a corolla?

I: Well, it's often just another name for all the petals of a flower. Of course, if the outer and inner petals differed in colour then then I think the corolla might refer only to the inner whorl. Not sure.

Him: So it is entirely a botany term?

I: Nothing is entirely one thing, sweetheart.

Him: But where else can you use this?

I: Toyota Corolla!

Him: Dad! But now that you mention it, why did they name their car that?

I: Brightly coloured and made to attract the observer, perhaps. Maybe something to do with being aware and mindful of Nature.

Him: So there is one more use to it.

I: A lot more, I am sure.

Him: Like?

I: You could use corolla to signify clustering and crowding of like-minded people over a singular point of view.

Him: Hmmm. Nice.

I: You could use corolla to describe something furbelowed. Remember we discussed furbelow?

Him: furbelow as in fur below as in furs and decorations...

I: As in?

Him: Pleated or gathered garment.

I: Good. Now let me read some thing. Get me that book from the 2nd shelf. Yes, that one. Thank you. Sit down and close your eyes. I will read once and...

Him: I have to familiarise myself with the words. Then you will read once more and I will see the scenes dance before me. I know the routine, appa.

I: Routine!? You call it a routine!?

Him: Not in a disrespectful way! 

I: Be careful, boy. You seem to be slipping! :-D Now listen:

His sentimental education now went on fast. Next morning, he happened to catch sight of her washing her face and arms over an old-fashioned basin on a rococo stand, her hair knotted on the top of her head, her nightgown twisted around her waist like a clumsy corolla out of which issued her slim back, rib-shaded on the near side. A fat snake of porcelain curled around the basin, and as both the reptile and he stopped to watch Eve and the soft woggle of her bud-breasts in profile,  a big mulberry-colored cake of soap slithered out of her hand, and her black-socked foot hooked the door shut with a bang which was more the echo of the soap’s crashing against the marble board than a sign of pudic displeasure.

Him: Nice.

I: Listen to how he suggests a casual demeanour by saying....

And we'd go on and on about that one paragraph, pausing not for the hurried urgencies of practical life where hours run into one another demanding five dozen minutes' worth of distance run and no second spared for the panting heart. Oh! how we pant while life goes by waiting not to admire the outline of dust on a cover which reveals a smaller book's shadow when they were all stacked one on another! How it takes more time to pick the smaller tome, in order to ensure that clean skin, untouched by wafting dirt, a clean rectangle surrounded by evenly powder brown track! Ever noticed that the inner rectangle is usually not parallel to the outer boundaries of the larger book? An accidental design which one can miss while one stops not to pant.

My dad loved literature, or so I believed. Something in some of his statements made me think he loved Shakespeare. I tried reading the Bard and found him stupid. I never voiced my opinion and hence, my father knew nothing about my judgement of the great one! He loved P G Wodehouse too and had this beautifully decorated Omnibus with a multicoloured Rolls Royce on the covers. I don't know where it is now. I imagine my love for words is a weaving together of all the disorganised genes of my father because he never revealed a unified love for the written word. There were sporadic bursts of interest and occasionally (or so I believe) a passionate outburst about the beauty of English as it was and probably should have been. I collected these peels that were tossed around to compose my memory of my father as a lover of letters. But he never had a library (unlike Pamuk's father, but my father was witty!) and he never really (vocally) encouraged reading let alone writing. My father would have been extremely surprised today if someone told him that his son writes! But in his own way, he let us know and realise that literature had to be treasured and nurtured like life itself, for life is a story that is written, though, yet unread.

Maybe the Western concept of reading bedtime tales (which I read about in one of the many books of my childhood) had bubbled in me a little want to connect to people through the beauty that other people created as a festoon of words. Maybe it was the chance of sharing perspectives arising out of the same collection of symbols and string of such collections over beautiful pages. Maybe it was simply the sound of words cascading in voices that we love to hear drive us into a world of dreams and possibilities. Maybe it was just the story itself made real because someone you trust tells you so. Maybe it was just excuse for creating another bond.

My books have multiplied into hundreds now though my hopes dwindle. Books read are promises to give a young ear. Books unread are promises for a journey together. Books are the extensions of my hands which reach out to young shoulders. Books are my way of giving what I wanted to give myself.

Prosperity!

I really think I should stop writing these posts about the world and things that they and their wives throw at us often. I hence, do not buy the newspaper (though there are several reasons why that is a stupid thing to do) and rarely, if ever, watch the TV for channels dealing with news and gossip (Discovery T&L and Cartoon Network win!!).

Last evening due to some inter-galactic conspiracy, I lingered too long on BBC. I was saddened by the forest fires in Southern California and was reminded of Pico Iyer (hope he is fine) and watched an advt. about some rugged man use his amphibian to pelican a lot of water to put out some fire in the woods - and this proves that the watch he wears is damn good!! While watching all this, a rather bald man came up on screen to inform me about the result of the latest survey and study about prosperous nations and their ranking. That got me interested. He elaborated on how prosperity is not merely an economic measure but also a measure of well-being and the environs and facilities to nurture and further prosperity. Hence, Australia which was on top was economically good and also supported the furthering of prosperity of her citizens and residents. The whole list was not read out and hence I decided to check the details.

If you want the entire list of the 2008 Legatum Prosperity Index, go here: http://www.prosperity.com/downloads/2008LegatumPItable.pdf

This whole intention of creating such a list seems fine. It helps some people feel proud, some people feel motivated and some people write blogposts. But the latter guys are the best!! ;-) They aren't lost in the result but the truth therein. I am just plain lost!! :-D

I can understand a lot of the countries being over and above India, but Slovenia? Slovakia? Costa Rica? Tunisia? Kazakhstan? Peru? Belize (ever heard of it)? SRI LANKA? Hence, I started my search about these countries.

Well, I just read about Costa Rica and now my question is, how did Japan go above Costa Rica? India deserves to be levels below Costa Rica! Seems like a really wonderful and intelligent place. It gets all my votes for not having a military.

But Belize hardly seems to be a place that deserves to be above India. Tunisia appears to be a small developing country but has done a very good job of growing into an intelligent country. In summary, I agreed with some but found no data to agree with the verdict on the rest. Most of these countries are smaller than a state in India (and hence, I feel, it is easier to manage such places which are geographically well contained and sparsely populated).

Whatever be the disagreements, I realised that India has a long way to go. Stinking politics, religious quarrels, sickening corruption, dismal state of basic human amenities and blindness form the roots of what keeps India way down on that list.

There also was a personal prosperity questionnaire which I decided to take in order to better understand the reasoning behind this survey. Here is how the results looked (you might have to click on the image for some details):

Well, I am not sure how my being male automatically is a dampner on my prosperity, unless the survey thinks that being a man you are most liable to be spending a lot (because girls/wives/mothers/sisters need not pamper you) and maybe losing a lot (hair included)!!! Similarly, how does my living few kilometers near a main road make me automatically eligible for loss!? The fact that I commute to work is bad too (tchee tchee! Whole of Bangalore is non-prosperous). That I consider work important is bad!! What takes the cake, baker and all is the fact that I am young (< 34 years. I can't help it if they consider me young without even meeting me!!) and that is detrimental to my prosperity!! What's the point talking about prosperity when I am 80!?
Suddenly, I am not too sure I should take the results of the survey seriously!

Nobel Cause

I suppose it is tut-tuting news that one of the keepers of a purposeless secret about the functioning of a rather purposeless organisation spoke his mind about the state of American Literature. I am not quite sure what exactly that (i.e. American Literature) is, but I am amazed at the tirade that one opinion has unleashed. If American Literature is about written works by Americans (defined as an individual with at least 3-4 generations behind him in the US of A) then I am not sure what everyone is cribbing about. Pynchon apart, I don't think Updike or Oates or most other Americans I have read deserve a Nobel. Just because someone writes a lot shouldn't make them candidate for a Nobel!! As I have lamented enough, modern writing from the US of A leaves me wondering what on earth is happening to the basic tenets of story-telling. They seem to be ever-absorbed in some gimmick or the other or in justifying every deviation on the grounds of self-expression even at the cost of rightness. To an Asian mind, that is ridiculous and very intrusive.
But my opinion about American writing is not what counts and is largely irrelevant here. What left me amused was the childishness of people all around the world (except for Marco Roth) and the issue they had made of this whole affair. I see a few facets to this issue, and I shall elaborate on them shortly. As a quick preview, these facets can be condensed into the thoughts about individuals or a group of individuals determining the (objective) value of art (in this case, literature), what is literature (as such and according to this individual or group of individuals) and what America has done for literature. Unfortunately, I have no comments to offer about the worth of M. Le Clezio.
I have always had reservations about someone being the appointed judge about the beauty of sunsets. I would never ever subscribe to that no matter how high I hold that individual for his aesthetic sensibilities. To empower a body to be the final judge about beauty, is rather ridiculous. For instance, the Oscar Academy would be extremely uncomfortable had they to answer questions about why one film was chosen over the other nominees for the award. If we get down to technical merit, direction, photography, script, cast, costume, perspective, etc. we could surely make their lives miserable by presenting one counter-argument after another. How well exposed and experienced is the committee? Have they created movies of exemplary worth? Have they earned the reputation of influencing cinema as it stands today? After a point, how can one decide which is more beautiful?
For me the Nobel committee lost all respect when they missed awarding Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov for his contribution to literature. Personally, Nabokov (chronologically after Shakespeare and Gogol, and aesthetically on par with Shakespeare) is the true measure for excellent literature. A committee which cannot award Nabokov either recognises that greatness will always be recognised with or without an award or doesn't recognise greatness. In either case, the pointlessness of that award is sealed. The diploma, medallion and cash that they give can easily be given by anyone with money and enough say in the media. The Nobel committee for literature cannot be a judge of good writing because they aren't diverse enough nor do they contain any writers of worth capable of making judgments. If every previously awarded writer is automatically added as a judge, then there is some value to the decision that is announced. If you read what Engdahl (had anyone heard of him before this controversy?) himself said about the authors who were missed out then you might wonder if a life of 78 years is insufficiently short! There were others who deserved this award, but as NYTimes.com had put it: If he doesn't win the Nobel Prize, it's only because the Nobel Prize doesn't deserve him. I cannot agree more.
Even if I hold back my immense respect for Nabokov, I see the entire exercise of isolating one author as being singularly better than the others who are available for an award as a futile and rather presumptuous one. Think about it. There is no one writer on earth who can satisfy the tastes of all. Not even Nabokov. Which brings us to the point that the Nobel is not a representation of the entire world's preferences but that of a small group of 5 Swedes. Why has this award suddenly taken on the proportions of being the voice of the world? It is but the enactment of the will of Alfred Nobel.
The Americans have always coveted any and every award. If they couldn't get themselves into any particular award list, they institutionalised their own awards. They are the best as far as marketing is concerned and hence have ended up making their awards appear like God's word. Somehow they couldn't better the Nobel Prize and the OBE. They just ended up mocking the latter and yearning for the former. Their yearning seems to have also been marketed well enough to become a fairly global want and hence, the growing worth of a Nobel Prize.
The committee's decision itself has often been mired in controversy. There have been a few recipients who seem to have won it for reasons other than literary excellence. This is entirely expected as this is a committee of human beings functioning within their human limitations and inclinations. Hence, I did not make much of Engdahl's statement respecting the fact that he was as human as friends of mine who consider Ayn Rand rude or Ms. Woolf tedious. He presented his views which are partly justified (America doesn't translate much, because it doesn't make much business sense).
As a member of the committee, should he have made a public statement? That is for the committee to worry and not for the Americans! The gravamen of all American outcries was that their literature was not parochial/insular and simultaneously they argued for literature's worth being demonstrated even in parochial themes. In one breath they resented being called parochial and fought for the right to be parochial as that too leads to good literature. They cited their own Nobel laureates (Steinbeck, Faulkner) for being parochial and recipients and exclaimed loud about how far from insular they have been. Some noted figures, even offered Engdahl a reading list. This outrage is expected from a population that is heavily dependent on external recognition and praise. If there must be a difference between European writers and their American counterparts, it would be this. M. Le Clezio might have continued writing and died unknown, unheard had he not won the Nobel. I doubt whether France would have made any noise!
I am not sure whether the American literati are decided about their objection to Engdahl’s comment. They object to being called parochial and insular but cite laureates who have been just that. It is like saying: “I am not fat, but you have had fat people win your beauty pageant so why are you complaining about my being fat; but I am not fat and you have had fat people win…” Then they object to Engdahl’s remark about Americans not “participating in the big dialogue of literature”. Frankly, I do not know what that is! What on earth is the big dialogue of literature? Some Kwame Anthony Appiah (the name sounds South Indian) retorted with a “The big dialogue of literature isn't just going on in Paris and Frankfurt ... I assume even Engdahl agrees it is not centered on Stockholm” but what is that big dialogue. It is like someone saying that the Loch Ness monster is not to be found in New York and the residents objecting to it not being found in Boston or Paris or Tokyo. Well, yes, it can’t be found anywhere until we identify what that really is! Why do we need a big dialogue of literature when literature itself seems to be absconding!!? Then the Americans are mumbling incoherently about the “don’t translate enough” thingy. I am not sure whether that is a complaint against publishers or authors. If someone translated several works of a German author, who is to be awarded, the translator or the author? And is this a problem with publishers not commissioning translations or translators not being interested? But what does that have to do with the writers writing novels!? Even here Nabokov shines with his translation of Alice in Wonderland!! Amazing genius, Nabokov! I so wish I had him as my teacher.
All this brings me to my often-asked question: What is literature? If it is merely a body of written work then any prolific writer could contend for an award for literature. If it is mere popularity of a (body of) written work then Ms. Rowling could win one too, as much as Mr. Deepak Chopra. If it is, as the Nobel committee feels, a weapon to cleave ignorance and raise awareness and the need for involvement in the reader, then I suppose several prolific journalists could be on the shortlist. If it is art for art’s sake (like a sunset, which doesn’t care whether anyone is watching or not) then the notion of judging such works is ridiculous. If we are to recall Alfred Noble’s whim then we should note what he says in general about the prizes:

…the capital, invested in safe securities by my executors, shall constitute a fund, the interest on which shall be annually distributed in the form of prizes to those who, during the preceding year, shall have conferred the greatest benefit on mankind…

and in particular about the characteristics of the literature award:

…one part to the person who shall have produced in the field of literature the most outstanding work in an ideal direction…

Literature to benefit mankind is a banausic pursuit and doesn’t do much justice to literature per se. If I have no political leaning, no humanitarian interests, no views on the prevailing trends in the markets or in society, then I can be Shakespeare and not get the Nobel Prize ever. Whatever did Don Quixote, Lolita and Macbeth ever provide to improve the affairs of bipeds on earth? Literature, in my opinion, was never meant for that.
I am then let to suffer my confusion about what is an “ideal direction”. Is it something that furthers in a man’s breast the unabated thirst for producing literature that can excite another alien soul? Or is it something that lets man speak for all men around him through means of a story? What if I have so much to say which other men do not think? Would I then not have produced a body of literature?
I really believe that the Nobel committee should make a clear statement that they are merely enacting a will, arriving at decisions based on their limited prowess and admit to ascertaining to literary value of a particular nature which caters to their sensibilities. Missing this, there is bound to be some confusion and a lot of noise regarding the real role of the Nobel Prize in the world of literature.
And finally, I would really question America’s role in furthering the essence of literature. Let us be clear that having several American authors on shelves of bookstores in several countries does not tell anything about their contribution to literature as much as it has to say about the marketing might (although Appiah believes otherwise!). America believes strongly in marketing and in capitalism. That salesman’s instinct extensively cloaks the world of letters too. I have read several critics and teachers of fiction (in America) provide recommendations about structuring the draft in order to have the “biggest bang” for the reader. One often hears about the reader not having enough time and hence the first page or even the first paragraph requiring to be that dose of adrenaline or LSD which will hook the reader enough to make them buy (not appreciate it, not read it and recommend it to another person, not read it and get brutally possessive of it but just buy) it. This pressure of publishing only that which will sell like hot cakes and become a fad and which can go on to become a movie and sell memorabilia is all that seems to motivate the industry. This pressure also reaches other countries where literature was created and published for literature’s sake. Read this.
America gave the world a lot of MFA courses in the hope to make literature more serious a pursuit in that land. America has given tonnes of literary magazines where writers can publish their works. America has given hundreds and thousands of writing competitions, workshops, retreats and the like where writing and literature can flourish and nurtured. America has invented several schemes where someone can make a lot of money out of a few bunch of wanna-be or already-been writers. America talks in terms of writing contracts and novel advance amounts. Everyone does so nowadays, though I strongly believe that it was the brainchild of the Americans. America has created opportunities for writers and people who wish to run a business with the produce of these writers. They instill in their writers the need to cater to larger audiences and "sex things up". They have Writer's Markets books and a zillion books on how to write! The market is abuzz with book signing tours. Any and every ploy to gain greater financial mileage from the written work is adopted and improved upon. The same book is priced higher because it has an author's signature on it. The contents of the story within are the same! This is the publishing market in America. For the number of MFAs turned out, a paltry few are actually heard of in the world outside of the US of A. Some of them pay their MFA debt with a book or two and then they are out of steam. Colleges claim that their students receive book contracts even before they graduate, but how many people have even heard or read these writers!? America can churn out several writers and publishing institutions, but what has it contributed to literature?

If we now shift our gaze to what American writers of the past several decades have given then it can be summarised as the free hand to colloquialise writing and story telling. This is not restricted to the dialogues that characters might indulge in, but also the right to justify everything in the name of "fashion of the moment". Thus was born gay writing, black writing, flash fiction, SMS fiction, modernism, post-modernism, post-post-modernism and the whole array of jargon which didn't bother to uphold the basic framework of telling a good and interesting (new, thought provoking, change in perspective, rich, etc.) story. Nabokov always gave me a story (and he is not American). Shakespeare always gave me a story (and thank god! he is not American). Fitzgerald always gave me a story although he started employing Americanism in his works. He never won the Nobel nor did he receive much recognition while he lived. The present day writers are too absorbed in being intellectual or different or elitist without bothering to be writers. That is where I see American literature. I do not have a present day work which I can compare against Ada or Ardour. I do not have a present day work for which I will readily trade Mrs. Dalloway. I do not see any brilliant literature which leaves me speechless. I do not see any current work from the American continent which I can consider to be wonderful literature.

Does this mean that there is literature only in non-American works from non-American writers? I would disagree. I fail to find even one book which was written in the last, say, 20 years which I would hold close to me and read it over and over again. Point is, American literature is far more driven by the market, media and pop culture than is literature outside America. Undoubtedly, other countries are catching on and giving us "One night at the call centre" and the like, but America is singularly focused on money and getting it fast unlike most other nations. They will not even spare the arts for that. They will dumb-down (quite an American phrase) and do anything that it takes to sell and make money. If the art itself cannot be modified, then add on some cheerleaders and gizmos and get the media to call it stuff that is only for the truly great souls (everyone wants to be that). Do anything it takes to sell and write only that which can sell. That is where I think American Literature and the rest of the world differs. That is why I think it would be extremely difficult for an American to win the Nobel for what it represents today. It would also be difficult for an American to win an award given for the greatest act of revealing the soul of literature.

Hunt Starter

I am on this rather quirky and purposeless hunt for starter recipes. I intend collecting 200 of them by 31st Oct 2009. I mean 200 different kinds of recipes (not the kinds where you replace peas with corn and voila! another one!). I intend covering the following cuisines in the process:

1. Indian (there are 200 in them!!)
2. Chinese
3. Vietnamese
4. Thai
5. Middle-East (covering Turkey, Iran, Israel, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, etc.)
6. Egyptian
7. African (need to investigate this, but Moroccan is surely in there)
8. Mediterranean
   
9. Italian
10. American
11. Lebanese
12. Japanese
13. Spanish
14. Mexican
15. German
16. Scandinavian
17. Commonwealth (!!?)
18. Misc. (French, South American, etc.)

That is going to keep me fairly occupied!! La la la laa la!!

Of course, only vegetarian!!

Sonnet - 9 An Angel Asleep

Her silent head pressed 'twixt cotton and time
Lips, speaking her dream, with slightest parting.
Hope that flutter hearken not the waking clime
For her sleep soothes the vile day's grating.

She holds her chin and smiles vacantly so,

The rising taut of a child's stomach, 'neath;

Soft hands curled around undrawn trust's core

I wish that were my fingers they sheathed.

I beg my mind to not clang its way in

And remind me of the wicked wrongs she'd done

For this moment is all that shall stay within

A shattered soul by this sleeping woman.

She stirs, I turn, into her her self seeps

'Tis sad in waking, an angel must sleep.

A Gold Standard

Recently I was discussing the need for a gold standard of human conduct, with a friend of mine. He subscribed to the safety of assuming that there will always be something unknown about why a person behaved in a particular way, and hence, its adherence (or not) to the gold standard cannot be determined. This is in line with Steven Covey's scenario to illustrate a paradigm shift. I found that scenario rather silly. Here is (mostly) how it goes:

A man enters the subway train in the compartment where SC is seated. The man is accompanied by a whole bunch of extremely noisy children (his). The man is calmly sitting down next to SC while the kids go about creating mayhem of sorts which disturbs many an American soul in the train. SC, after giving the due pause in the hope that things would settle down, turns to the man and requests him to rein in his children (in very soft and sweet words). The man "wakes up" to the situation around him and apologises to SC. He proceeds to explain to SC that his wife had just died and they are returning from the hospital. He hasn't been able to explain things to his children and hence, they are just being themselves and he didn't notice as he was collecting himself too. SC says: Suddenly you see things differently and that that is a paradigm shift.

I call that fairly irrelevant. If the kids are disturbing everyone, then that doesn't change because the man's wife died. Undoubtedly one sympathises with the man and realises why he wasn't acting on his children's conduct, but that the children need to be quietened down is still required as it is causing a lot of discomfort to others. Or the man should announce that he is in such a situation and hence all passengers should hold back their discomfort! There is nothing hard-hearted (a heart of gold?) or cruel about this outlook. If I were in SC's place, I would have sympathised with the man and enquired into the cause of the mishap and probably offered help in quietening the boys, but the latter task is required as the crowd was getting disturbed. Or the man offers to pass on the unfortunate piece of information to everyone and everyone helps in managing the kids. People start engaging the kids and make them less unruly and noisy. The man is left to his grief and confusion. Whatever, but a situation of inconvenience to creatures (human or otherwise) other than oneself, should be addressed and not left to the tolerance of others (and top it with an expectation that they better understand and tolerate it). Hence, if SC had not found out and met my friend then my friend would have fielded SC's complaint with a "You don't know what that man was going through or what was running in his mind. You don't know whether he was going through a divorce, death, loss of job, indigestion or whatever. Hence, you cannot say that he was being inconsiderate."

Technically, I can say anything!! :-) Point is, the man was being inconsiderate and that inconsideration stemmed from unconsciousness (which, as I said, is fairly irrelevant). That SC realised the cause of unconsciousness and managed (?) the situation that had arisen from the man's inconsideration doesn't make the act less inconsiderate. Being inconsiderate is not a crime or a punishable offense (at least not always), nevertheless it is a cause of concern for people around the inconsiderate person. How long does it take for a man to pull in his children and request them to stay put? How simple it would be to take them all in a cab so that his grief and confusion are contained? Isn't it far more complex to expect total strangers and several of them to immediately realise that this man is in a state of grief and hence, the acts of sons should be instantly pardoned?

This brings us to several different modifications to the above scenario. What if I have a major tiff with my manager and then shout at the vendor at the gas station? Should the vendor be expected to understand my mental state? Should he then swallow all need to explain the situation as it was instead of how I have perceived it in my state of anger!? And this goes on ad infinitum, ad nauseum!?

Which is what brings me to the need for a gold standard of human conduct. The conduct could well contain the need to never assume that the person who is being a nuisance is doing so intentionally or with malefic intent, and I am ok with it though I would also like, then, to include the need to not burden everyone with the difficulty that one is going through. I am ok with anything that everyone agrees with, accepts and follow. I am dead against something which people like other people to follow but have no inclination to adhere to, as it goes against their self-interest. That is being damn parasitical! Oh! I so love that word. In it is carried all the truth of human base intent and pettiness which people refuse to acknowledge. The sheer shock and revulsion that is observed on the face of the recipient of that title is apt.

My friend was convinced that having a gold standard would be ideal though he recognises that it is impossible to have one. He believes so because "people are different". I believe so because people in their need for self-preservation and self-propagation will do anything to ensure that they are not inconvenienced or harmed. That "anything" includes violating any commonly constructed gold standard. So, my friend and I agree (but for different reasons) and are happy!! :-)

Let me illustrate why having a gold standard is vital. Consider that you live in a small village of about 20 families and houses. If you believe that thieving is wrong and assume that others too believe in the same, you might be encouraged to leave your door unlocked and all your valuables lying around in the house. You return home after a day's labour to find them all gone. You realise that asking people if they have seen those items leads to hostility. So you go about earning enough money to replace those objects. Again, one day, you return home and find them all gone. This goes on. What do you do? I, personally, would meditate on the Taoist question of why hold anything valuable. But my meditation leads to another question: Even if my mattress is the only thing I have and I do not hold it valuable should I not be concerned when it goes missing? Should I learn to sleep on the hard earth? What if my clothes are stolen? Should I learn to walk around naked?

Does this mean that I too go about stealing!? Personally, I wouldn't. I would simply leave the village with whatever little I have, and if I find all villages to be the same, then I will go and settle on an uninhabited island. I realise that this constant escaping is not eternally sustainable. Maybe I can do a Galt-ian move and collect all like-minded folks and create an Atlantis for myself. Whatever!

I hope I have impressed upon the reader the need for a gold standard. 

Now let me explain why Nature created the seed. The seed is a precursor to all the wonderful architectural concepts of patterns (and Christopher Alexander is a man I bow to) or the notion of kernel and core systems that software industry recognises (and there are few to none in this industry whom I bow to). The seed is the essence of whatever must and can grow from therein. Am I making sense? The seed is the distillation of all that goes into an apple tree or a shrub or even weeds. As Master Ugway points out to Master Shifu: "Ah yes, but no matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange but you will get a peach." Oh! btw, that was from Kung-fu Panda. What all this means is that the gold standard is nothing more than a seed. A seed which will always grow to be a human being whose fruits will be noble and honest. Some will produce less fruit, some more, but all will take pretty much only what they need and do so in an honest and noble way. Those who produce no fruit will be firewood (and without regret). Those who produce lots of fruit will one day be left bare and will also be infested with all kinds of pests and insects. But they will all be noble and aware of the one Truth that Nature effortlessly instills in all its creations, except man, for man wanted a mind in lieu of Nature's guiding hand. Everyone else chose Nature soft hand that only nurtures.

The seed is also the basic minimum that spans across all cultures and geographies. It isn't an IBM mainframe which tries to capture all with the philosophy of one-size-fits-all. Let us create a quick little seed and observe how it is also a potential gold standard.

In all interactions, if a person is honest and lives in the midst of people who are honest, then there is nothing to fear. If I did not do my homework, and I tell my teacher that I did not, my teacher could punish me. If everyone does that I do not consider the option of lying just to escape punishment. I, instead, focus on completing my homework always (since that is the only way to avoid punishment, or I drop out). No matter what I do, I do it with honesty and hence, with a respect for another person's need to base their actions based on my word/actions. If I live in a village where everyone only lied (and not merely stating the opposite which is a lie but is also readily available to providing truth by inference) then life would be nearly impossible to lead. Hence, honesty can be an element of the gold standard.

I shall leave it to the reader to realise why not harming anyone intentionally, taking not more than what one has or can give and helping all creatures co-exist are elements that can enter the definition of a gold standard without causing cultural/regional/geographical/racial anomalies. A simple seed!!

1. Honesty

2. Not harming anyone

3. Taking commensurate with what one has to offer

4. Treating all elements of the Natural world with equal importance and value

That is it! 4 facets to the gold standard and this is something that human beings find so difficult to adhere to. There are folks who do adopt these and there are millions of people who do not. It requires putting the common good before the self. It does not imply loss of individuality, but simply the chopping away of elements of the individuality which are detrimental to a collective non-parasitical living. BTW, point 3 can also be (partly) interpreted as not doing what you wouldn't want others to do to you.

What this ensures is wherever a person may go, all the people he meets will have these values effortlessly inherent in them. The person you meet might eat with his hand or break wind in public, but he will still have all of these. He might expect that you eat a lot to show your gratitude and a lot of minutia which do not make living impossible. 

I read this article from Boston Review. Please realise that there is nothing inherently right or wrong in any stance you take for the scenarios mentioned in the article (or in the surveys mentioned). What the author addresses is a related issue. The point I raise in the previous paragraph is what Turiel's thesis summarises as "the distinction between conventional violations, which depend on local authorities, and moral violations, which do not." 

In the article you will also find an insight (which has been used to probably strengthen some other point) coming from natives in Zimbabwe. Understandably, tribesmen, animals and Taoist have this in common. There are no morals and no rules - only the proper way (Tao). Hence, I unconsciously (and now I am glad I didn't use any other word or phrase) used the phrase "effortlessly inherent" in a previous paragraph. The natives say that the closest word that they have for the English "morality" is "tsika" which means "good manners" and maybe more particularly "the proper way to greet people".

Why did I place point 2 in my gold standard? Because I feel that it is vital. I was surprised (and let me assure you this article was written over time and the external article was read just now. Hence, the motivation to publish this article) to find that scientists have observed this about human beings:

Another hypothesis is that children acquire the notion of “wrong” actions in their second year, once they are old enough to hurt others and experience firsthand the distress of the victim.

Do I believe all of scientific literature!? :-) Does it matter!? :-) E.g. after reading the article I am still wondering why "Licking the dirty toilet" is immoral!! It might be crazy, eccentric, unhealthy or disgusting, but why immoral?

So where does all of this leave us? We could adopt a gold standard and stick to it, or promise to adopt one once everyone on Earth does the same (resulting in deadlocks), or condemn the notion of gold standards as it makes machines out of men (as much as it makes machines out of peach trees or hummingbirds). One might rush to say that Ayn Rand was suggesting just the same (and some very interesting human beings think that all she was advocating was rudeness. Frankly, my dear, that was when I realised how scared a human being can be in the face of simple truth) though many (including myself) would disagree. Some might say that one can only control oneself and hence, we can be the only ones to adopt a gold standard and expect nothing from others. That, as many (including myself) believe, leaves one in the situation of the man finding his house burgled. Adopting a religion or a god-man (sic) takes us nowhere. Having met people who believe they are devotees of a god-man (sic) and spew out bromides, but behave like any of the "un-realised" ones leads me to believe that that path takes us nowhere. Running away from everything might seem to be a solution but having met people who tried that I personally believe that that doesn't help establish or disprove the need for a gold-standard.

So, really, where does all of this leave us? Nowhere right here.

Being Responsible

The Delhi blasts brought a lot to the forefront. It raised the typical debates surrounding why the government didn't bother to respond to the intelligence reports that they received, why are the Muslim extremist outfits so agitated, does violence help, is our infrastructure in place to handle such situations, are we making enough noise about such incidents (look at London, Australia, US of A and the noise they make for every misplaced whimper) and in all this, what should we do.

I tend to be rather laid back about these things ever since I figured out that violence doesn't help (which doesn't mean I manage to escape volubly violent outbursts). I do not believe in non-violence, but I tend to look at things with a rather fine-its-done-what-should-we-do-now kind of eyes. My sister is not me.

My sister and I have been discussing things since last evening and today morning she couldn't help shout her frustration over the Indian telecommunication miracle. I tend to lower the volume of my mobile whenever I have to speak to her, but today her volume was totally justified. She was rather annoyed at the way the hospital staff at AIIMS handled a man's enquiry into the whereabouts of his relative. Apparently, he was tossed around with no concrete information and finally gathered all the required news from the TV in one of the hospitals before reaching the right hospital where his relative had already succumbed to injuries.

"E, what the hell is happening to the world!?"

"Going to the dogs?"

"Shut up, and all of us will only be concerned when things happen to us and only when our near ones are the victims."

I couldn't help realising the truth in that, though my mind flashed back to the time when my father died in the Poonam Chambers collapse more than a decade ago. I was relatively calm then and didn't consider the option of suing the builders or anyone like that. Nevertheless, my sister's point was valid.

"I agree, because not everyone has the capacity to be concerned about everything that happens on earth. It is simply not sustainable. Everyone picks a few things and watches over them carefully."

"But everyone surely has also picked their kith and kin!"

"I suppose so."

"Life has become cheap and disposable in India, E!"

With over a billion people here, that was inevitable. In a place where I meet a human being once every 10 miles, I might value his/her presence. When I meet a new human being every 10 milliseconds I do not think I will consider them special or something like that. People treat trees the same way, and water and nearly everything else. No wonder folks in the West and cold countries strip down to the most permitted by prevalent statutes of decency and bask in the Sun which any Indian has had enough of. My sister continued:

"10 people die here and another 10 die there, and no one cares."

"Hmmm."

"And what do we people do? Sit on our arse and watch TV."

I wanted to inform her that I do not watch TV but thought it inappropriate a confession.

"Damn it, E! We were not educated to watch all this and talk to each other over the phone about it. We should be doing something. We have to."

Hence, I am here writing this post. My education has only given me the skill to think and write (and of course, read. Gosh! I sound like Siddhartha!!). I do not think the bombings are going to stop. I do not think Muslims are bad. I do not think the Muslim extremists are going to stop their maddening rush to eliminate all and sundry and probably have a few outfits surviving before they fight amongst themselves to figure out whose Allah is better and destroy themselves. I do not think that is a bad idea. Human beings are inherently destructive and hence, all that they do (and sometimes, with the best intentions) will go wrong! The human specie is the most inhuman one in that it is the only specie which builds up arsenal to destroy itself. No other living specie does that. I will reserve my comments about dinosaurs, though I believe they were far more wise than present day human beings. Human beings are worse than viruses (please correct yourself, Agent Smith) since viruses do not destroy themselves. I also believe viruses have ethics.

Nevertheless, I have been educated by such human beings so it makes sense to offer them the fruits of my thoughts.

We need the following facilities built into all the cities of a country (of course, prioritising them will help):

1. Risk alarm buttons. These large red buttons should be available at every traffic signal post. This automatically triggers necessary plans to divert traffic from the sensitive area and also alerts the police to reach the spot. Activating them is not a trivial brush of the elbow.
2. Ambulances equipped with photo equipment. Ambulances servicing such affected areas should have equipment to capture the victim's profile from various angles including any identifying objects possessed by the victim. These images will be transmitted to all police stations immediately allowing them to create charts with these images, the hospital deploying the ambulances and names of persons to contact. If any information about the victim's family can be obtained, then they should be brought to the hospital rather than wait for them to find out on their own.
3. Single identifying card. Every individual should possess a single identifying card (with a microchip in it). This card is tied in with the person's fingerprint and DNA sample. This card cannot be used for any monetary transaction although it can (and should be) used for identification when creating bank accounts, demat accounts, insurance policies, purchase of assets (mobile or immovable), passport issuance, etc. Hence, damages due to this card are negligible. This card will contain the entire history of the person's interaction with the government and monetary institutions including all his personal contact details and emergency information. If this card (even a photocopy) is found on the victim's body, then it can be used (only by the internal security service's authorised personnel) to contact his family/relatives/friends immediately and they can be brought to the location asap. I have always believed that this sort of a card is vital to all citizens of a country though it treads a very thin line between good use and a threat to privacy. I will not address those issues here.
4. Bomb containment units. These will be small dome like structures built with high tensile metal fibres and meshed with carbon fibres to provide the strength required to mitigate explosions. Every commercial enterprise and every public centre will be provided with several of these. On pulling a chord, these units will expand into domes (like the dome shaped lampshades that one finds nowadays) and can be used to cover suspicious objects. Of course, the mouth of these domes would be flexible to accommodate different sized/shaped objects. If sealed properly to the ground they can minimise the impact of explosion (well, there is always a limit to what can be achieved. I do not imagine them doing The Mask like thing with a million stick time-bomb!!). These units can also be designed to slowly contract over the object and essentially seal it off (effectively swallowing the objects, doing The Mask like thing which I just said is not to be imagined!). If there are chemicals that can be used to diffuse standard explosive devices then these units can be equipped to release them in a calculated manner over the object that they contain. No prior training is required to handle these units. People will simply have to treat the situation like trapping a mouse by covering it with a basket. The unit should take of the rest.
5. One set of emergency numbers irrespective of technology used (landline, mobile, WLL) or service provider.
6. Deploy an ambulance for every 1 km radius cell (a city will have to be divided into cells like how mobile companies do). These could be ambulances deployed by local hospitals in addition to ones put into service by the government. 

One thing we all need to realise is that, we cannot eliminate such incidents. Simply not possible. We can only take steps to make it extremely difficult to plan such things. Similarly, we can only take steps to make the aftermath less messy.

Steps to discourage such plans:

1. With the single identification card, people can track the history of tenants and be forewarned about people with a dubious and/or criminal history. Those affiliated to extremist outfits can also be identified. Every landlord must register the card ID of the tenants he keeps in his house irrespective of age, sex and caste. Hostels are also required to do the same. Hence, electricity/telephone/gas bills paid by anyone other than the landlord or the identified tenants will flag a situation of violation of rules. The landlord need not have to quote the rental value or anything like that while registering the tenants. Landlords should also regularly check the premises that they have rented out (standard rental agreements permit such acts) and notify the zonal rental body that things seemed normal. This makes the landlord responsible for the people he houses.
2. Chemicals required for such explosive devices as well as chemicals that can be used to prepare chemicals required for such explosive devices must be tracked by each state government. Selling them in small quantities and the like should not be permitted or be allowed after due authorisation.
3. People entering public utility spaces (bus stands, railway stations, airports) must be scanned thoroughly like during baggage check. I find a lot of the personnel just running a ladle like contraption all over me and not bothering about the various beeps that are sounded. I realise those beeps keep sounding even after I leave!! We need software to better recognise suspicious objects and maybe chemical sniffers to smell out any particularly eyebrow-raising substances.
4. We need better and more reliable red-alert notification systems. Undoubtedly, there will be pranksters making a mess of it, but we need to make it better and treat each of them equally seriously. We could actually build systems to call another nearby phone to ratify the statements of the complainant (oh! and yes, calling the person they are complaining about is a sure no-no!!).
5. We definitely need better and more humane teams to tackle such situations. We need them to appear quickly, too. They must be educated (no, not the kinds which let you talk over telephones about disaster management) about how to handle such situations and reduce panic attacks.
6. We need to eliminate spaces where explosives can be slipped in unnoticed. Large garbage dumps or open-air godowns in market areas and the like must be eliminated.
7. Understand and appreciate that panic is bloody contagious. Educate people about it. Run several drills in public areas so that people get familiarised with what needs to be done.
   

Things to make the aftermath less messy:

1. Have large bunkers (maybe underground) where people can go and stay till the situation is restored to normalcy. This is like what I read about the WW-II days when there were bomb-shelters. I am sure these bombs are not half as good as the ones the Nazis dropped, though I realise that no shelter is safe from the ones the godforsaken Americans dropped on Japan! People who are in the area where there is a confusion can swipe their card at the entrance of such bunkers and enter them. There will be limited seats in each bunker thereby avoiding situations of death by asphyxiation. People simply have to go to the next bunker. How? Read on.
2. When the red buttons on the signal lights are hit, indicator lights along the roofs of shops will be switched on to direct people to the nearest bunkers (like on the flights, though they are to the nearest exit). Once a bunker reaches capacity, the indicators to that bunker are switched off and people are informed to head to another bunker. I know I am assuming sensible and considerate people who will follow instructions given to them, but if I am to design for the current lot of human beings (or at least the ones I have met on the street) then I am out of ideas!!
3. People staying back to assist victims can dial a particular number from their mobile (and the number is the same irrespective of service provider! Gosh! I wish some day these dumbos will realise that their war for bandwidth should not make life difficult for the consumer. We need one set of emergency numbers to call from mobile, landline and WLLs irrespective of service provider) and they are on a hot connection with paramedics and internal security service. They will be constantly guided and encouraged to maintain the situation at near-normalcy. Handling victims will also be more informed.
4. Every body removed from the site will be identified using the single card (if carried by the victim) and/or photographs taken by the internal security personnel and/or paramedics. These will be uploaded immediately to a central location from which it can be beamed across television channels and hospitals and any other public location. 
5. Hitting the red button will also send out alerts throughout the city and citizens will be requested to keep off common areas and/or enter bunkers. Speaker systems will be activated to notify citizens of the location(s) of unrest.
6. Ambulances from 5 nearby cells should immediately rush to the spot and provide feedback to ambulances in the next circle of cells. If the damage is huge then it makes sense to move more ambulances to the affected cell without moving all of them there as a subsequent explosion elsewhere would result in chaos. I have an algorithm which these ambulances could use in order to move in a pattern which allows least confusion. Will put that out sometime soon.
7. Identified victims' family members must be contacted immediately and brought to the respective hospital where the victim is. Internal security service should clearly keep track of "unclaimed" victims so that they can send out more identification information just for them.
8. Every hospital must deploy sufficient personnel as the points of first interaction for outsiders. These personnel will be responsible for establishing calm, streamlining information, directing the victims family, providing the complete and honest information about the sequence of steps taken to ensure the safety of the victim, empathising with them, sharing their concerns and allying them without being rude or clinical.
9. Traffic should be redirected and slowly brought to a halt (if deemed appropriate) based on information made available over the internal security service network. There should be some "clean" areas earmarked in cities where no "object" can be placed (like an open ground or a large parking lot) and vehicles should be ushered into such areas, thereby taking the load off the main roads.
10. Parking vehicles along the pavements before entering nearby bunkers should be considered ok on broad roads. In narrow lanes, traffic should be moved quickly and into less packed areas. Slowly vehicles should be visible only on broad roads and in "clean" areas till the internal security service gives a "all-clear" signal.
11. Reporters and camera-crews should be kept outside the affected cell in order to reduce the confusion in the cell. They are not important and are of no help. Information is anyway being gathered and passed around by the paramedics and internal security service. Guys, please don't get adventurous and sneak under the ropes!! I hope someone issues a shoot at sight order on these guys!!!
12. People in the bunkers are good people because they are not adding to the confusion. They need to be constantly informed of what is happening outside. They can also swipe their cards in slots placed in the bunker and their family and friends will be informed of their location and safety. The bunkers will seal off all mobile signals and only allow calls to be made to the internal security service and other emergency numbers from the telephone units on the walls of the bunkers. Yes, the bunkers are well lit. You can meditate in there or read a book. Yes, even if it is One Night at a ...

I think I will now throw this post open to more ideas and comments from readers. If you think this makes sense and you can pass it around, then please do so (no, I never cared about increasing readership for this blog. If I did, I would write about Ms. Sherawat's assets or simply keep providing links to other webpages. BTW, zen koans and sonnets never make for wide reading). If you know someone in the political circle and you think that this might get them thinking (oxymoron?) then please do pass it on to them. I wish some more ideas could be rolled into this post.

Of course, there are tonnes of way in which one could still blow up a section of the city (or the whole city if your city is as small as Mysore or Madurai). Here are some of them:

1. Simply load your car with tonnes of explosives and get trapped in the traffic on M.G.Road in Bangalore. Step out (everyone seems to like doing that), and disappear. Blow your car to smithereens.
2. Keep filling traffic cones with explosives and then blow a whole road and some more.
3. Garbage disposal trucks are another sweet container of bombs
4. Use a whole series of parked cars as explosives (well, they contain enough petrol and tin for a similar effect)
5. Let flutter a whole bunch of pigeons with bombs stuck... sheesh! Sick. Please don't. Kill human beings if you want, but not animals and birds! Whoever-you-are, please!

Trust me, there are tens of thousands of ways of undoing all the precaution that one might observe. So please never assume that you are totally taken care of. If you are married, you will know what I mean!! :-D

At the end of the day, I still wonder what are people trying to achieve! If attention is what they want, I am sure Mamata B is doing something enough to get it without making a noise (and given that they are fasting or something like that, other noises are also eliminated). If they want a country to themselves, we should allow them a chance to come up with a clear cut 15 year plan on all fronts of administration. If they can convince a panel of experts and also convince them as to why things are different and unacceptable now, then they can have their piece of land. Why not? If they mean good, then let them do good. But why kill someone whom nobody knows!? Kill a bunch of politicians and/or filmstars and/or sportsmen and/or some bigger criminals, and it would still be pointless. So don't kill. Just give birth to less children!!

Here is my suggestion to terrorists. If you want to be heard, then try one of these things:

1. Adopt a whole thousand children. Inform the government about your adoption. Teach them about what you believe in and that they should also adopt another thousand each and take care of them. One day, when you cannot accept the way you are being treated, walk over to the parliament (now you are a big force) and tell them that you will fast unto death. Well, you were planning to blow yourselves, right? Die slowly and in a more decent manner. I am sure your words will be heard and you will not have your visa cancelled anywhere on earth. As a matter of fact, you are more likely to gain greater support from people who simply want to support some soft spoken person.
   
2. Monopolise a segment of the economy. Let's say you take up iron ore mining and processing. Let your entire outfit be engaged in just that activity. May your outfit be the only ones who will produce iron in this country (highly unlikely, but let's just ponder over that). Tomorrow, when you cannot accept the way you are being treated, then increase the prices ten-folds in order to compensate for the ill-treatment that you are receiving (come on, let's be honest. Are you really being ill-treated?). The government will simply have to discuss things with you.
3. Spend the money on advertisements and hoardings where you can clearly state and graphically depict the atrocities mete out to you. Buy airtime on radio channels. Have centre-page articles in the leading newspapers (no, you cannot convince ToI to sell you page3 space) to represent your case. Speaking of cases...
4. Educate your outfit to become lawyers so that they can create infinite petitions against the government and make their life hell till they behave decently and treat you properly.
5. Don't hijack planes or bomb them. Just wear stinking old clothes or carry rotten food. People on the flight (and on the next trip) will not want to travel in those planes. Airline companies will pressurise governments into talking to you. 
6. Basically, don't kill people or cause bloodshed. Just make life difficult for people till they listen to you. But before you do that, be sure you have a valid case, and remember that eliminating the "others" is not the best way to solve any problem that you might have. You might be the "others" for someone else. Actually, you are the "others" for everyone but you.

Dear Sis,

I think I am done doing what my education has skilled me for. And I still did it sitting on my arse! No, I do not watch TV.

Rash Driving

Bangalore is a city where private vehicles carry a benevolent sign on their rear (wherever there is space). This sign asks the reader to call a particular number if the vehicle bearing that sign is found to be driving rashly. A typical message is:

If found driving rashly, please call 9812345678.

I wonder whether anyone really does call. I suppose a typical conversation would be:

Me: Hello, 9812345678?

He: Yes

Me: I have a complaint against your driver

He: What's his name?

Me: Name? As in, I only saw the car driven rashly.

He: Did he kill someone?

Me: No, but...

He: Did he run over someone?

Me: No, but...

He: Did he make a bus swerve and run over the median to hit some lamp-post?

Me: No, but...

He: What was rash then?

Me: He kept overtaking everyone and zipping past all vehicles, honking away and flashing his headlight.

He: And what was he supposed to do? Wait for you to reach home before he turns on the ignition? Please sir, you shouldn't be dishonouring our drivers like this. They have small kids and a wife? Wife of any size but small kids... very very small kids. 

Me: But that doesn't mean he drives rashly. If every driver with a wife and small kids...

He: Very small kids

Me: Whatever! Very very very small kids! If every Indian drove like that then only those wives and kids will remain and none of the men!

He: Oh! So you want me to fire him?

Me: No! At least...

He: I should cut off his salary for this month so that you feel happy while his very very small kids starve?

Me: No, but...

He: Maybe I should rebuke him in front of everyone so that he gets depressed and commits suicide. His small small kids will then cry "Papa" all alone.

Me: Dammit!! Why don't you put his kids on the bonnet of the car so that he drives carefully!!?

He: Silence

Me: Silence and thinking whether this man has put the phone down

He: Hmmm. So you want me to suggest to him that he kill his very very small kids?

Me: Goddammit! I am asking you to tell him that he should drive carefully and not rashly!

He: Rashly? But did he kill someone!?

Me: Slam the phone really really hard and wishing that someone invent a way by which that impact can be transferred to the other end.

Nevertheless, I was wondering what happens if this benevolent sign was not restricted to private transport services alone! Some of the results follow:

Husband sticks this on his wife's car:

Banker has this stuck on his car:

A Virgin Mobile subscriber in India (and they will know why!):

Teaser:

The devout Kannadiga with least regard to being understood: (btw, I just pasted together stuff, so in case it doesn't mean anything or means something blasphemous, please excuse)

Car driven by a teenager:

Jealous wife's husband's car:

Literature student:

Zen Master:

Touchy person:

Devdas:

FCS (the parallel of an MCP):

Teenage girl's car:

Page 3 regular:

Y spel karectlee

U must reed this aartickle b-4 u proseed with this blaw post:  http://living.scotsman.com/features/Ruth-walker-39When-a-university.4396459.jp

Eye kant dishugree mor with Ms. Wocker. As in, y do we rite? We rite b-coz we wish two kumnicate are idias. Eye dont rite b-coz I wont les read lions undir mye weirds in MS Weird. I toetally hugree with Dr. Smith wen he ascs, what is "f" duing in "twelfth". I wood ask that abowt everee leter in the French langwage, butt it's ok two be French and weird (or that hapins automatcally?). In Inglish, ther r tonnes (well, sins ton is suposd two be the rite speling) of weirds wich hav leters b-coz sum dicshunry riter me-spelt them wen he was putting them all down, like "poignant" or "ennui" or eevin "annihilation" ("nihilism" seems two b the rite speling). In the north of India, Inglish is pronownsed in everee pausible way. Hens, Alaarum shud b aloud two (and loud two). Or jomentry (for wat I laytr lernd two b "geometry") in the sothearn states. One Bihari culd teese a UP bhaiyya for pronownsing is-cool as sakool (wile sum "pedantic" teechar insiss that it shud b pronownsed "school"). Inglish is not suposd two b a karectlee spelt langwage. It is suposd two b a langwage for men like cotn wul (olso riten as, "cotton wool") is two the shop flor: for aneething butt mayking beeutifulee simmetrik lions of threds ovar a loom, murj intwo a nise Kancheevaram sorry. It is probablee like paynt used two mayk owl kinds of images and sines and ok-sionalee, art. Inglish kannot b stuk up like "Sanskrit" or "Latin" or Tintin in there infinight rooles and stipyoolashuns. Inglish was ment two spred like a disees "amongst" the I-dill speekar hoo wanted two say sumthing and if asked two rite, wud do so with the sam rispekt with wich they spoke - nun (olso riten as "none")! 

Wich udder langwage has boroed so much frum niyarly everee udder langwage on arth? French, Italian, Sanskrit, Tamil, Hindi, German, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Arabic, Persian... neigh-m it. Everee udder langwage creeated an iden-titty of its on (mostlee). Most Indiun langwages had won pay-runt (Sanskrit) and slolee morfed intwo a langwage of there on. Inglish has been the promise-coo-ass product of sevral nites in sevral fawrin beds. Y then, asc 4 karect speling wen evereething in its or-gin has been unchased (olso spelt as, "unchaste")? It is like asking a ladee-of-un-men-shunnable-trades to where her lay-pels properlee! Reallee, and that is the most importunt thing nau!? Inglish has olwais focusd on b-ing "utile"; Y sudnly focus on serimonees? If speling is not a serimoney then what is it? Gramur is a serimoney two, butt I will wayt 4 sum-1 two rite abowt the need 4 karect gramur b-4 I go there (aneething two rite a post!). If Inglish reallee cares abowt "propriety", then they shud have stuk two at leest "Old English" and staid that way. Life wud have been so much more fun! Think of softwear yooser manwuls in OE!

The point is, we need chased langwages and at leest one langwage that is pyorlee 4 a qwik dispensing of thots and idias. Like we need "pilates" and "yoga" 4 maintining are bodees butt a burp two feel liter this veree minit. Everee-1 thot Inglish was that in the kittee of langwages, butt nau Ms. Wocker says "No". That's plaing a spoil-sport!! Cum on, Ms. Wocker, let us ol mis-spell. Plees!

Fine! No more misspellings!

I was pondering about the consequences of passing a law allowing misspellings:

1. Toilet and To-Let boards will no longer raise a snigger

2. "Meet The Fockers" loses its punch

3. Arnold Schwarzenegger is a happier man

4. Citibank will no longer ask a million questions about my mother's maiden name spelling or about my street name

5. Speaking of my mother, she will be happy too (which doesn't mean you link point 3 and 5 together and consider me to be the son of Arnold!)

6. When someone writes about Tanjore brassware, that article can be deemed pornographic by the VHP because Tanjore's culture never had bras in the the first place and it is un-Indian to talk about brassware.

7. Everyone wins the Spelling-Bee contest

9. Bangalore shops where they fix a puncher will be "But obvious"

10. SMS would be considered high-brow grandiose

11. GRE and GMAT exams would lose half their question bank

12. Proof-readers would lose their jobs or rather re-invent themselves to check for the correct misspelling!

13. Half the Gujaratis will hate their surname and will ask Modi to insist on the right spelling of Bhatt. Mahesh Butt will object and claim that a being at the butt end (or having a butt at the end) is not necessarily a bad thing.

14. Modern poets will claim a new style of poetry where one word is written in all possible spellings and clueless "kanna-seers" (also written as, connoisseurs) will hail it as the most imaginative piece of writing that has descended on mankind.

15. Nearly all mail would be spam. Especially Yatra.com's mail about the tour package which takes you to Delhi and then Mathura Viagra.

16. Google will be out of business or will have maximum employees with the least hair on their head.

17. And when you ask a tailor: "What do you do?" he wouldn't reply with "Sow" (bestiality is still punishable) but "Syoo" or the safer but boring "Stich".

Do you know that I started this mail typing out the way I intended it to be and then simply couldn't. So I wrote it the way I normally do (with near zero spelling mistakes) and then powdered this little baby with some pizzaz. Gosh! Misspelling is so tough!!

Sufferer

My hands tremble for I fear that they have lost their wizardry. A man's but single thread to the Unnamed joy is fraying and what can he do but watch. He summons bold strengths and bolder determination, and pauses. Why should they come merely because I have summoned? I look towards the door and back at the blank sheet of paper. I invoke past misfortunes and misdeeds to explain my pen's frigid ink. How I have enjoyed the black on white, like the arranged tresses of a maiden's tale! Now a curl here and a stroke taking flight to shrink into a spot above a swimmer emerging from the pool, thus a "j". 

I smile but the parchment is unscathed. Not a wrinkle appears on this choking whiteness under my nose. I pray, I plead, I threaten, I feign mock anger and turn away to look at some carved piece of wood from Brazil. The man's eyes are narrow and he sees less of the world (blessed soul). His lips are pursed though wide - he must have spoken a lot before he realised the futility of it all. He locks his arms across his puny chest, refusing to let his heart belong to this world and its myriad leeches - his heart shant bleed for them. His nose is chipped and green (actually, most of him is either green or green when I squint my eyes) but he doesn't care about it. He seems to be looking at my barren whiteness and then back at me. 

"Aren't you a writer?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"True."

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. He sings a song from his motherland and whips his head to the beat of his chant. His voice climbs the strength of human skill and his eyes fill with green dew. He hums his song to sleep and returns to his earlier composure.

"Did you understand what I sang?"

"No."

"True."

He turns towards me and smiles.

"No one understands that song, my friend, not even he who wrote it."

"Did you write it?"

"As it is today, yes."

"How could you then not understand it?"

"Because all I did was sing it."

He looks at the paper and raises his splinter eyebrows towards it.

"You are a writer?"

"I try."

"Then you aren't."

He pauses and hums a line from his song, or so I thought.

"How much of life have you understood, my friend?"

"Very little"

"But you have lived it all so far?"

"Yes?"

"How could you then not understand it?"

"Because all I did was try."

"True."

He takes out a flute from the woodwork of his thigh, and proceeds to play a tune. I believe I had heard it before and try to fix that familiarity in my mind when he suddenly stops.

"Sing with me."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"To your tune?"

"Yes."

"But I do not know a song of that tune."

"Sing."

And he starts to play. I watch the green of his body throb with the air of the forest he had once belonged to. The green moves and dances over his torso and I sing a song of the winds that blow through the rainforests. I sing in the tongue of the creepers and falling leaves. I let the rays peeking through the green sky form the beats of my song as the words sway to the melody of his flute. 

"What ails you, my friend?"

"Lifelessness in life."

"What am I to say of that? I am but a piece of wood."

"True, but how different is that from being a human being?"

"You can write and be a writer. I can't."

"Neither can I."

"True."

He replaced the flute before continuing.

"Where did life lose its wetness?"

"In ignorance."

"But isn't that what makes you alive?"

"It is that which makes you see that you are alive to all but yourself."

"Write me a verse; on my back."

And he turns around and looks in the same direction as I did.

"But I can't."

"Why?"

"Life has drained me of words and joy and beauty. What is a verse without these?"

"Honest?"

"Honest? There is nothing honest that has been spared the touch of man. Even man's need to be honest has metamorphosed into an ugly snake."

"Then write me a verse about that snake."

"I can't", I shout and fling my pen at him. It enters the soft wood and stays there.

"That is a good start. Go on. Please don't stop."

"I have written enough about the dirt of this world."

"Then write about the dunes and falls and bobbing hummingbirds."

"But I can't bleed a word out of me. I have been killed by all and left with a red acid coursing my veins, entering a vial of human residue, cleansed and fountained into the rest of me so that I may live one more minute without knowing why and without wanting to know why."

"But you are a writer."

"No"

"True. Hence, I ask you, write me a verse of the blackest poison that you have drunk from the hands of loved ones. Spell me words with the thorns that pierced every friendly clasp that was extended for you. Twirl phrases coated with the roughest sands that every confidant rubbed on your heart. Can you not?"

With trembling hands, I pluck the pen from his back and draw little flowers on his back. The flowers grow bigger and blossom in various shades of green. I draw golden chords between them and make garlands of them before pushing in stalks of fern between the flowers. A cherry blossom there, a little bird here, bees thrown in for the musical score. I shoo away some stray cows and pin up some of the festoons to form curves of the right height.

"Is that how much life has pained you, my friend?"

"Life doesn't hurt. Lifelessness does."

"True."