Beautiful lines to inspire one and all

Sea And Rain-Drops

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea, 

Then vanish, and die utterly. 

One would not know that rain-drops fell If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

 So souls come down and wrinkle life And vanish in the flesh-sea strife. 

One might not know that souls had place Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.

( Courtesy- "Dyessey" Whom I fondly refer as "Dearie"-- my own voices, thoughts and symphonies from Manila)

The hues of life..rendezvous in the twilight

 As the sun seems destined for a quiet sunset 

 and my thoughts float away to some distant lands.

 To some far away places

 Where the rays of the sun wash away my worries

 And someone leaning against my shoulder-

 I could feel my heartbeat in her breath

The cool wind awakens me..

and I see myself lost in the  twilight

and I see myself lost in the twilight

BJP- Losing its Religion- reinventing Jinnah

Once again, the Jinnah controversy has raised itself from ashes like the phoenix. The BJP seems to be struggling to define its true identity. Its veterans-of the likes of Advani and Jaswant, who have tilled and cultivated the soil of “Sangh Parivar” with their blood and sweat are being ostracised. Let us not forget that the birth and prosperity of Sangh Parivar rests on the propagation of Pakistan.It was partition that led to growth of the right wing ideology in India. We all know the hidden skeletons of India’s partition. Neither the Muslim League, nor the Congress or the Hindu Mahashabha were interested in stopping the carnage. The British wanted a hasty retreat from India because they knew the carnage was imminent. They did not want the responsibility of ensuring the safety and security of millions of Indians who were themselves vent upon drinking each other’s blood. The Hindu Mahasabha fulled the Hindus in the hindu majority provinces and the Muslim league did the same in its sphere of influence. Consequently it was the Congress which gained from all the chaos. In fact, it was the demonic face of the Congress that we got to see after India’s Independence. Nehru got the pie (Jinnah given peanuts and Gandhiji sidelined). None of the Congress leaders were interested in stopping the blood bath that was reeking with human miseries across the borders. Boundary lines were hastily drawn at midnght and the bloody exodus of people began from both the sides.

No use playing the blame game. We all know the truth. The real cause of partition was our greed. Jinnah was a scape goat during partition and a demon in history books for a resurgent India. India needed Jinnah as a demon because it needed the justification for the creation of Pakistan(Infact India still needs a Jinaah every time when there is a need to unite). Someone needed to be proved responsible for the blood bath and it was Jinnah. The history books were written based on this plan : demonise Jinaah and unite India.

Few lines from Ghalib’s poertry best evokes the mood- 

“Humko malum hain zannat ki hakikat lekin- Dil ko khush rakhne ke liye Ghalib yeh Khayal accha hain”

The Dawn

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!Look to this Day!For it is Life, the very Life of Life.In its brief course lie all the Verities and Realities of your Existence.The Bliss of Growth,The Glory of Action,The Splendor of Beauty;For Yesterday is but a Dream,And To-morrow is only a Vision;But To-day well lived makes Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.Look well therefore to this Day!Such is the Salutation of the Dawn
---- Kalidasa---

COCOA WARS

--The bitter taste of my favorite chocolate---

 The thought of Chocolate always evoked pleasant feelings of a steaming mug of hot cocoa or my favorite recipe for chocolate cake.I never dreamt that chocolate could be linked to human bondage, child slavery, civil wars and unspeakable suffering.

 Chocolate along with the tea and coffee is one of the most popular “Fair trade” certified products. Ironically the abundance of cocoa and consumerist demands has played a major role in destabilizing Ivory Coast in West-Africa. The popular “Cocoa belt” supplies the world’s largest cocoa with Ivory coast claiming a major share of the world’s trade in Cocoa.

However, Ivory Coast is the most destabilized in terms of human rights violations.This is a classic example of the nefarious links between natural resource, exploitation and corruption. The way that timber, blood diamonds and Oil have played with the lives of the people in Sierra Leone, Liberia and Niger Delta, cocoa has managed to do the same in Ivory Coast

 The Cocoa trade in Ivory Coast is divided into the rebel controlled North which produces around 10% of the world’s Cocoa and the Government controlled south with produces 90% of the world’s Cocoa.Cocoa trade have contributed to funding armed conflict.Both rebels and the government utilize profits from the sale of cocoa to directly fund their internal conflict, with the government siphoning millions directly into the war effort. Journalists trying to expose the embezzlement have been murdered or have disappeared mysteriously.

 Today, more than 90% of Ivorian cocoa is exported to Europe and North America. The European Union itself  accounts 60% of exports. In fact the five largest importers of Ivorian cocoa are Netherlands, United States, France, Estonia and Belgium.This commodity with a broad international public appeal is harming the  fragile Africa once again.Few African economies have actually benefited from their natural resources. Many countries are still struggling to recover from the millions of deaths and displacement caused by, wars that have been fuelled from these commodities. 

So the next time you happen to savour the flavour of cocoa melting in your mouth just spare a moment to figure out whether  it is human enough to enjoy something which has been cultivated in the bloody soil of Ivory Coast. Are you naive enough to knowingly contribute to profits derived from the cocoa grown from exploitative child labour and the revenue that is used to fund wars that kills and maims innocents.

The international greed for Cocoa will lead to conflagrations of seismic dimensions that will have wider ramifications across the globe. We have a moral obligation to stop conflict in Africa.A lot lies in the hands of the chocolate industry; it has a responsibility to make sure that the products it sells are conflict free. Companies which buy Ivorian cocoa can play a positive role by demanding improvements in the way cocoa revenues are managed, by refusing to be involved with corrupt acts and by encouraging transparency and responsibility.

In our own little domain we can ensure that we do not buy something flavored with the misery of others. Let us make sure that any cocoa or chocolate we purchase is certified fair trade and conflict free. Let us sanitize the chocolate companies,call the company of whatever product we intend to purchase and ask “Where do you get your cocoa? Did you know about the link between slavery and chocolate?” Let us voice our concerns to any company we may have questions about.Let us encourage our governments to allow companies to purchase chocolate which is not supporting arms supplies or political conflicts.

 Chocolate is everyone’s indulgence and a sweet part of life. Let us not reconcile the sweet taste of chocolate with armed conflict.Let us spread awareness about the dark side of this popular treat which many of were not aware of. I am sure many of us are also not aware of the fact that there even exists a small nation called Ivory Coast.Let us spread the light. Please pass on this torch of reason to everyone.

"O Sleep, O' Gentle Sleep, Uneasy lies the head that wears the Crown"

At last, is laid to rest one of  the most enigmatic performers of the modern era.Michael Jackson's death brought a tragic end to one of the trailblazing icons who united the black and white music and shattered the race barrier on MTV , perpetually dominating the charts. He was perhaps one of the most exciting performers of his generation, known for his backward-gliding moonwalk, his feverish, crotch-grabbing dance moves and his high-pitched singing, punctuated with squeals and titters.

A "consummate entertainer" and the biggest pop sensation of all times. Personally this is such a massive loss on so many levels, words fail me. I will always remember him as a "tortured genius" whose squeals and sliding moves captivated a generation and who sparked global trends in music, dance and fashion. Jackson enriched our lives. With his music he tried to "heal the world", a world torn apart by greed and adventurism. His music made us happy, although unfortunately his weirdness made us unhappy too. I can't believe how many people dwell on the negativity of this man's life, rather than the trails that were blazed by such an icon. Let us remember that before the "whaco Jacko" there lived a Michael who always enthralled us with his scintillating performances. 

I was skimming through his childhood photographs and one of them captured my interest. Perhaps this photograph embodies the innocence and the rich legacy of music that he has left behind. 

Peace be upon him.

Raindrops

When was the last time I felt that I was wet with sound of life? When was the last time the earth seemed a perfumed paradise? I guess it was the last monsoons. 

Two days back the soft pelts of cool refreshing moisture hit me once again while I was returning after a tiring day's work from my office. The sky seemed a hushed theatre attended by nothing but birdcalls.  Suddenly the rains made entry like a king. Overjoyed I looked up at the sky and the soft pellets hit me, went pitter patter, all across the street, hydrating me deep within.It is again the month of wonderment and renewal.It is again the month of mangoes and it is again the magic month of "Monsoons".

Its a wonderous feeling to experience nature's loveplay between the lush land-scape and the moist sky. Its an indescribable feeling when the secret of the earth, rain and fragrance hits you. The ecstacy of the drenched earth cannot be kept a secret. It rises to the sky as pure musk. Fulfilled, the earth is once again ready to sprout leaf and spread a fecund green.The parched earth's prayers and it's giant sigh of longing for those heavenly drops is answered with torrents of downpour.Indeed it is the month of renewal and celebration.

Let me take you on a chilhood tour to my small ancestral village in Assam where the rains are notorious for causing havoc, bringing miseries, when the rivers swell up claiming human lives. But I have distinct memories  of the monsoon rains pounding on my grandfather's home, the corrugated iron roofs sounding like drums being beaten in ecstacy- dum, dum dum... and it was music all around.

Today, twenty years later in Mumbai, I open up my arms wide enough to welcome the rain god, urging him to quench me with as much blessings posssible. For the rains are not just rains for me. They open up the old, muddy,  roads to my grandfather's home, where I see my granny preparing the evening meal, and at the same time trying to fill all the earthen pots with rain water, while I sneak out slowly and get drenched, happily dirtying my clothes with mud and playing on the small puddles of rain. And my mother yelling at me from inside the house, threatening me that this would be the last holiday to Assam if I do not come inside instantly. Seeing me defying my mother's call, my siblings and cousins join me. The defiance of authority, the company of my siblings and cousins and on top of it the rain creating a muddy playground for us and small rivers to make sailboats, taking turns to make one, strugging to keep one's sailboat floating and looking for slightest opportunity to drown the others turned me into a small maniac. Not to mention the thrashings I received once my mother caught hold of me.  Words are not enough to describe those feelings, and now, when I look back I have nothing but gratitude for the "showers of blessings". 

Rains have been integral in  shaping a home for me. They still hammer the corrugated iron roofs inside my heart, or at least they revive those feelings. They still make me remember my granny and grandpa and they still make me think of my siblings.