There is a new philosophy which is doing the rounds amongst the so-called intellectuals of our country today. This new philosophy has been created to cater to the ego of man and not to his soul. This neo-pseudo philosophy that is spreading amongst the educated youth of today is that there is no such thing as right and wrong. As far as they are concerned everything is right.

This neo-pseudo philosophy has been propounded by many so called new age spiritual Gurus, philosophers and authors who have quickly realised which side their bread is buttered and have started playing to the galleries by appeasing the egos of their disciples rather than removing their egos. Even those who claim to live without ego are egoistic about their own lack of ego and thereby fall into the trap of the ego. The human ego is a very subtle and devious creature which creeps into the mind even when you stand guard against it.

This neo-pseudo philosophy claims to have its origins in the teachings of ancient India in the form of the Vedas and the epics of ancient India such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata. This is a fallacy for nowhere has evil been allowed to exist in our Vedas or our epics. Ancient Indian literature talks of Karma and the inevitable cycle of life. Therefore, as per the Gita it is concluded that whatever had happened had to happen and there is nothing wrong in whatever happened. While it is true that karma is a cycle and therefore whatever happened had to happen and will be repaid in a similar manner. It does not mean that performing an evil or wicked act is right. Evil will remain evil and can never become right and just. Claiming that wrong and evil are right and just is nothing but a deluded mind trying to justify its own mistakes. If there was no concept of right and wrong as well as no difference between the two, our very lives would be meaningless and purposeless.

The problem is that right and wrong have become ‘relative terms’. That is to say, what is right for one is not right for another and what is wrong for one is not wrong for another. This is nothing but justification by the human mind and its ego of the wrong done; of what it knows very well to be wrong. This is what leads to misguided fanaticism and terrorism.

Truth is the same for every one but each one interprets Truth differently to satisfy and appease their wasted consciences or egos, so as to suit themselves. The best example for this is Truth itself. I believe that Truth is Air and this Air is the same for everyone. However the way in which we breathe this Air differs from person to person and this is what contributes to the formation of differing mindsets. So also, the way we accept this Truth or interpret this Truth differs from person to person and that is why Truth today has become a relative term, while actually it is the same for everyone.

This neo-pseudo philosophy, in all its so called positivism, judges humility as a sign of negativity and weakness rather than as a virtue. As a result, those who adhere to this so called new wave thinking, tend to have delusions of grandeur and act arrogant without any justification for being so. I can understand the arrogance of a person with skills and achievements that set him apart from others, but in today’s world arrogance is the birth right of all and sundry with or without any claim to fame or name.

The next point that I would like to address is another fallacy which this neo-pseudo philosophy promotes which is “not to be judgmental about others”. It is good not to be judgmental as indeed the Bible also says “judge not others; lest ye be judged” - Mathew 7:1-5. While the idea is a noble one, the believers of this neo-pseudo philosophy seem to adhere to it only when it suits their convenience. If and when somebody questions their philosophy they too tend to become judgmental and label the person as they please. These very people who promote these ideas of being judgement less cannot accept people with differing opinions or philosophies. Double standards, indeed.

If there were no judgement; all the jails, detention centres and prisons would be completely empty and crooks, scoundrels and thieves of all shades along with serial killers, drug pushers, rapists, and murderers would be loose everywhere in our country.

If there were no judgement; our children would grow up undisciplined and it would lead our children to steal, lie, do drugs, or succumb to all forms of peer pressure.

If there were no judgement; schools, colleges and universities as well as other institutions of higher learning could not evaluate the students studying therein as to their progress and they could not be rated or graded or even their minds disciplined.

If there were no judgement; we would not be able to assess or evaluate any neo-pseudo philosophies and doctrines but would allow it to seep and permeate into the very core of our society while destroying the fabric of our society.

If there were no judgement; we would without hesitation provide employment to any Tom, Dick or Harry or even Jane or Anne for that matter who claims he or she is qualified to work as help in our house and would not bother to check their background. Moreover, we should not become upset if this menial later performs a crime or rapes one of our women, because, "You shall not judge."
Truth is not relative. Truth is a dynamic, vibrant force but never relative. If Truth were to become relative only chaos and selfishness of the mind will prevail. Let me give you an example. Murder is murder whether it is caused by a lawyer, doctor or a contract killer. The same law applies to all. It is only when we try to enforce different sets of laws for different people that chaos caused by selfishness prevails. By laws, I am not merely referring to the laws of the land, its constitution and government but also to the laws of nature, laws of Karma, laws of Dharma and all other natural laws. Laws of nature are the same for all just as the laws of the land or the laws of Karma and Dharma are.

There are many of my friends who believe that they should remain positive always and that they should look at the good even in evil perpetrated, or the flip side of the evil, as they call it. I’m unable to accept their argument. For example, if a lady were to be raped and demanded justice but were to be countered with the argument of looking at the flip side of it and be happy that she was only raped and not murdered or be happy that she was bedded without being wedded, it would only be a travesty and mockery of Truth.

I wish my friends would accept that life is not always positive and has many negative cycles as well for the law of nature is cyclical and what goes up must come down. Unfortunately, in today’s world when man has wrongly understood Truth, the negative cycles are becoming more due to the wrong karma perpetrated and positive cycles are few and far between. It is for man to understand the cause for these negative cycles and break free of them so as to proceed to more positive cycles and thereby evolve. To remain foolishly optimistic and act positive throughout is only akin to closing your eyes to the Sun and saying that the Sun does not exist.

Hopefully you can see the folly of such silly neo-pseudo doctrine by now. Those who wish to persist in their pseudo folly are free to comment on this post or debate it for I believe in right as opposed to wrong and would certainly welcome your judgement.

As Muniyandi grew older, he seemed rather disinterested in even fulfilling his official duties as Keeper of the Pyre but only keen on collecting his salary every month. Kattu Pillai therefore took it upon himself to discharge these duties and help his brother while Muniyandi lounged around on one of the graves drinking and smoking beedis. Shortly afterwards, Muniyandi fell ill and passed away due to cirrhosis of the liver. It was left to Kattu Pillai to perform the last ceremonies for Muniyandi and send him to his heavenly destination with his fervent drumming. Muniyandi’s eldest son was now provided the job of the Keeper of the Pyre by the Municipal administration, since there were no takers for this rather lowly profession.

Times had changed. So also the practice of giving country liquor to the death drummer. Kattu Pillai was nowadays provided a bottle of IMFL, Indian made foreign liquor, instead of the usual jerry can of country liquor. Similarly the cremation grounds itself had undergone a sea of change. The old shed where the pyres used to be burnt was now replaced by a modern concrete structure which stood there in its stead. It was the new electric crematorium that was now established and Muniyandi’s son did not have to rake the pyre and ensure that it burned evenly. He just had to press a button meant for this purpose and the corpse would disintegrate under the extreme heat that was generated by the machine. However, the stench of death continued to remain.

Kattu Pillai continued to serve the dead by drumming away to glory. Thank god they still hadn’t invented an electronic drummer to do his job. Kattu Pillai lived until the ripe age of seventy and continued to stoke the funeral pyres of three generations of people who lived in that town. Ultimately as all life must come to pass, so also did Kattu Pillai’s turn come. Kattu Pillai was never one to fear death and when his turn came he happily gave up the ghost.

Kattu Pillai never anticipated death to be so liberating. His entire being felt different; without any restrictions and was free. There was no desire in his being since his soul had now come out of the shell made up of the five elements that it had inhabited all these years. There was only pure consciousness. His soul just stayed in a corner of the room where his body now lay, patiently waiting for the final act of cremation to disintegrate its body and proceed on its onward journey.

Muniyandi’s son the new Keeper of the Pyre had loved his uncle dearly. He faithfully and dutifully prepared his uncle’s body for cremation and performed all the necessary last rites before the body was slipped into the iron grate wherein it would be consumed by the heat to burst into flame and disintegrate. Unfortunately, there was no one to send him onward with the beat of the death drum.

As Kattu Pillai’s body yielded to the heat of the incinerator, the remainder of the “Dasa Vayus” or “Ten gases” that had occupied Kattu Pillai’s body all along, started leaving the body one after the other in quick sucession. These Dasa Vayus had entered the body from the sperm of the father; the life giver and had orchestrated his life throughout by its balance and imbalances. Finally it was the turn of the last Vayu or Gas the “Dhananjaya Vayu” which is stored inside the human skull to depart the body as the skull cracked under the intense heat and flames.

The moment the Dhananjaya Vayu left his earlier cocoon or body, Kattu Pillai felt a complete transformation. The images of the world as we know it vanished and he could not see this world anymore. He could only feel a floating sensation as an invisible tide pulled him to an unknown destination. The tide kept pulling at the core of Kattu Pillai’s very being into a huge void. Far away into the distance he could faintly make out a white structure. As he was drawn nearer and nearer he could see that the white structure appeared to be like a bright cloud formation in the midst of the dark void. As the tide swept him nearer to the cloud he could make out that the cloud appeared to look like some sort of a floating stairway. His being was being forcibly pushed towards the stairway.

Without any self control his being began to climb the stairway and divine music erupted all around. Melodious voices sang an anthem of victory as he further climbed the stairs. At the top of the flight of stairs he turned around to have one last look at the world he was leaving behind but there was nothing there, only void. He turned around and calmly proceeded to meet ‘The Divine Force’ who is addressed by many titles. Kattu Pillai was not prepared for what happened next; he found the stairs culminating in a grand hall filled with many other beings. He could make out quite a few known beings amongst those assembled there, though they being only souls did not posses any face by which he could identify them.

There was the former Mayor of Kattu Pillai’s town whom Kattu Pillai had despatched on a similar journey a few years ago. He could make out the I.T. tycoon from his town who appeared to be rolling out some kind of a red carpet to welcome him. There was warmth in the being of the former Finance Minister who also belonged to his town and who had been sent on his heavenly journey by kattu Pillai many years ago. The former King of Nepal as well as former Kings of many other kingdoms were there as well to welcome him. At the far end of the hall to which Kattu Pillai walked on the laid out red carpet, he came face to face with the ultimate Light , the lover of mankind, the Creator, the Protector, the Destroyer, the Energy, the Governing Force that we all call God.

Kattupillai was honoured and felicitated by God to whose right he was seated and was awarded what could be termed a “Moksh Ratna”; the highest order of God’s kingdom. The greatest honour possibly given to any soul or being. The Divine Force also provide Kattu Pillai’s soul with the option of being reborn as a ruler of all the souls that it had despatched to God or be reborn as a simple saintly man who would liberate the minds of all those whom he had once burnt on the pyre. Needless to say that Kattu Pillai’s soul chose the second option.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth, nay Heaven. 

                           THE END.

Some time earlier, I had posted a blog on the subject of the contribution of English to our freedom struggle and its role as a unifier of our country. However, I would like to look at the other side of the coin and share the problems that I’ve encountered due to my speaking English in this country of ours.

There is a misconception among the minds of the average Indian which is also a spill over of the British era that an English speaking person is an affluent person. The very fact that he speaks English is looked upon by the commoner as a mark of a man of riches. Have any of you tried to purchase vegetables or groceries while communicating in English. If so you would find that the prices of vegetables or groceries double the moment the local vendor realises that you are an English speaking Babu.

I therefore make it a point only to communicate in the vernacular with any vendors and suppliers that I may be forced to deal with. But my strategy could not be implemented during my stay in Delhi for about four years when my inability to speak in Hindi held me to ransom and shopkeepers and vendors with whom I was forced to communicate in bits and pieces of Hindi and lots of English had a heyday.

My plight while traversing the vast expanse that Delhi has now become was more or less similar. While I was completely familiar with South Delhi and could read it like my palm, the same could not be said for my knowledge of the other directions in which Delhi is spread. Old Delhi and further North were a maze and I was totally dependent on passer-bys to find my bearings. When I would approach them and ask for directions in English they would stare vacantly at me. Even those who could understand my questions in English would deliberately reply in Hindi which was totally incomprehensible. Their directions would only serve to worsen my wild-goose chase and I would finally reach my destination shelling out many more rupees than what I would normally have had to pay the auto wallah. I am sure that the natives of the Hindi belt must also be experiencing a similar problem when they travel to the non-Hindi speaking regions of India and I really pity their plight and empathise with them.

The Indian Government and the State Governments in particular are for their part doing their best to maintain English as an elitist language by not giving adequate importance to English education at the primary level. All successive governments have only played vote bank politics and have done a great disservice to English which was the main cause of achieving unity amongst the diverse regions and cultures of India. It is now being treated like an old freedom fighter who approaches the government to get his pension for contributing to the freedom of this country and faces many obstacles in getting his due.

If speaking English in North India has led to a torrid time, speaking English in Europe has provided me much more interesting anecdotes. The common man in France or Italy is averse to using English and reserves a certain cold contempt for those who speak to them in English. I still remember my trying to communicate in English to a cab driver in Turin who on finding that I was from India, kept on telling me, “Sonia Gandhi, my country, my Turin, now India”. He kept repeating these phrases like a stuck gramophone needle. It seemed that this was the only English he knew.

Another interesting incident happened in a restaurant where I identified something on the menu that seemed vegetarian for it was a Thursday and I do not eat non-vegetarian stuff on Thursdays as a mark of respect for my Teacher. I was starving and ordered it after ascertaining with the waiter only to find a plate of prime veal served to me. I had no other option but to pay for it and leave the restaurant wishing that it was any day but Thursday for then I could have eaten that juicy dish.

Linguistic chauvinism is not only unique to India but is found in most other parts of the world. As In India, politicians the world over contribute to this narrow minded view just to serve their own interest. Technology has completely revolutionised every aspect of our lives and the world has become a flat small playfield and a new global order is in the making.

As a matter of fact, I have more North Indian neighbours now than ever before and I wonder at their plight when they try to communicate in Tamil and grapple with the language after failing to make sense with Hindi or English. Actually, there are quite a few overseas personnel working in India now and my neighbourhood also has quite a few young Europeans and their live in partners or wives who have rented out apartments for their stay. Imagine the linguistic nightmare they must be experiencing.

The need of the hour is a common language to serve as a medium of communication in this new world order. It is therefore more important for politicians and policy makers to rise above their petty narrow concerns and look at things with a larger perspective and prepare ourselves for this new world order.

WHAT SAYS’ YOU MY FRIEND?

His name was ‘Kattu Pillai’. It meant a ‘jungle child’ in Tamil. It also meant ‘The child of the Ghats’. For indeed he was a child who had grown up in the cremation grounds of a small town in Tamil Nadu. He had been found as a one day old boy abandoned in the Municipal cemetery of that town. The boy had been raised by the Keeper of the Pyre at the cremation grounds.

The Keeper of the Pyre was a Municipal employee and he was provided small asbestos sheeted accommodation in the cemetery itself. The shed in which the pyres were lit lay to one side of the cemetery while the rest of the grounds were filled with the graves of the rich and poor, alike. The Keeper of the Pyre had also a little boy named Muniyandi of almost the same age and Kattu Pillai had grown up with the boy as his bosom buddy.

The Keeper of the Pyre had sent both boys to the Municipal school in the town. While Muniyandi had not shown much inclination towards academic exercises Kattu Pillai had excelled in school. Muniyandi could not complete his secondary school leaving certificate examinations while Kattu Pillai had topped the school with the highest marks. However, the Keeper of the Pyre did not have much financial resources to afford sending Kattu Pillai for higher studies and Kattu Pillai had therefore dropped out rather than make his adopted father suffer to meet his educational expenses.

Having dropped out of school Kattu Pillai used to do odd jobs for the Keeper of the Pyre and also assist him in his work at the cremation grounds. The Keeper of the Pyre had grown old and needed help while Muniyandi was least bothered and spent his time gambling and drinking with friends. 

The Keeper of the Pyre suddenly died one day leaving behind his wife along with Muniyandi and Kattu Pillai. The Municipal administration had then provided the father’s job to Muniyandi as his legal heir. It was then that Kattu Pillai decided to become a drummer. Not an ordinary drummer playing with a music orchestra or part of a band but a death drummer.

It is the custom in these parts of the world to beat a round flat drum slung over the shoulder to honour the dead. The drummer would lead the funeral procession with relatives and well wishers dancing to the beat of the drum as the procession wound its way to the cremation grounds. The kin of the dead would provide the drummer with country liquor, rice, a set of new clothes and some money as fees for services rendered by the death drummer. 

It was this profession that Kattu Pillai chose for Kattu Pillai was a different kind of person and his material interests were very limited. Kattu Pillai considered it a worthy profession for he considered drumming for the dead as a divine service that he performed to honour the dead. The first time that Kattu Pillai played the death drum was at the demise of the old Keeper of the Pyre, his adopted father.

Earlier the old Keeper of the Pyre used to take on the additional responsibility of beating the death drum but after he passed away Muniyandi had not seemed interested in what he thought was a very cheap task. It was only because of the disinterest of Muniyandi that Kattu Pillai had taken up this profession for he had seen a need that had to be fulfilled.

Kattu Pillai had grown up into a dark handsome young man and had a broad forehead with a Greco-Roman kind of aquiline nose and a strong determined chin. The only flaw in his otherwise classic Dravidian face was his lips which were thick and gross. His big eyes were always bloodshot and bleary. Kattu Pillai never bothered to wash or comb his hair and it had a perpetually tousled appearance about him. Kattu Pillai would be woken up at odd hours to drum for the dead and announce the demise to the town at large. Kattu Pillai’s proximity to death had resulted in his retaining a constant stench of death about him.

Surprisingly, for his virile appearance, Kattu Pillai had no interest in women and was only devoted to the family of the Keeper of the Pyre. The arrival of Muniyandi‘s wife had resulted in an affectionate sister's attention in Kattu Pillai’s life. Muniyandi’s children were his nephews and nieces and he loved them dearly but Kattu Pillai never felt the need for a wife or a family of his own.

The moment there was a death in the household, the bereaved family would send for Kattu Pillai and Muniyandi who would then take charge of the arrangements for honourably sending off the departed soul to its destination in the other world. In death, Kattu Pillai saw something very noble. It had to be experienced by all; both rich and poor, strong and weak. There was no escaping death. Moreover, Kattu Pillai believed that death was not an end but only a new beginning and it was this joy of a new beginning that Kattu Pillai conveyed through his drumming.

Every death was a new beginning for Kattu Pillai. His drumming would sound different for each funeral. Each performance was the creation of a new symphony in percussion. Kattu Pillai would take the rice and money back home and give it to Muniyandi’s wife. He would consume a part of the country liquor provided and save the rest to be shared later with his brother Muniyandi. The new clothes he would give away to the needy or at times sell at a throw away price to some poor soul.

Kattu Pillai’s drum beat accompanied all the rich and famous of the town to their funeral pyres. It was he who drummed in front of the funeral procession of the local Member of Parliament who had served as a Finance Minister in the Central Cabinet. It was he who drummed the way for the I.T. tycoon who had made it big in Silicon Valley and then returned to his home town to die shortly of exhaustion. It was Kattu Pillai who accompanied the head priest of the big temple in the town on his final journey. Kattu Pillai had taken not only the rich and famous but all and sundry including the local prostitute and the local milkman on their final journey to a new beginning. 

                        To be concluded.....

My Wishes
are not mere words
but thoughts
that fulfills all needs.

My Love
is no sham at all
but emotions true
that withstands all.

My Peace
is not of the worldly kind
but everlasting
that within I find.

My Prayers
are not mere wishes
but fervent appeals
that grants all riches.

HAPPY DEEPAVALLI

It is now a year since I registered on fropper and I can still recall that fateful day rather clearly. It was in Delhi. I had just quit my job at the office a couple of days before and having nothing better to do invested in a personal computer to keep me company. Soon, I managed to obtain a rather slow internet connection; the problems which I encountered with this connection have already been elaborated in a much earlier post.

A couple of days later, I stumbled across fropper and in a moment of weakness registered myself. The toughest part was naming the zone. I wanted my zone title and profile to convey something special. After thinking up several names including “dumbfool00000”, which certainly I am and many other such vague names, I finally decided that what I provided in my zone to my viewers must be a heady mix of Truth, Love & life as I saw it. It had to have a special flavour. An aroma of its own and it must also address the most important thing in my life. I therefore decided upon “VintageWine48”. 

Mind you, I am no teetotaller and am a lover of my occasional cup of sorrow. However, I did not realize that in the process of communicating my zone as something special I had created a certain distortion in my communication so as to mislead most viewers into assuming that the zone belonged to a wino and was meant to discuss the various varieties of rare spirits that indeed this world possesses. Believe me; I’ve had my share of beer and wine lovers visiting my zone.

Within days of registering, I got a message from a lady living in Pakistan that I had pirated her name and that she had already registered herself as “Vintage” on fropper. I had never known that there was another zone going by the name of “Vintage” for if I had known, I would not have named myself what I am now known as since I don’t like copying even in it’s remotest form and like to be original in my thinking. I therefore politely wrote back to the lady that I had no knowledge of her prior existence and if she had any axe to grind she better contact the fropper team and administrators and sort out the problem. The lady then acknowledged my existence and used to give me an occasional hit from time to time. I wish Indo-Pak disputes could be settled this easily.

“VintageWine48” has been innovatively addressed in many ways by my friends and visitors on fropper, that the original purpose of naming myself as such has been lost. A Sister of mine on fropper even addressed me as VW and compared it with the prestigious emblem of Volkswagen which I have no intention of emulating. Thank God my Sister now addresses me as vinwin. Many of my friends call me Vintage and make me feel quite awkwardly old for indeed my flesh is weak and old though the spirit still remains sweet sixteen. While there are so many other terms that have been used to address me on fropper it is not my intention to dwell upon them but to provide a glimpse of my true intention in naming myself VintageWine48.

Over the years, my search for Truth has led me to believe that Air is the most vital element to our existence and without Air we would be nothing but plain zeroes. Air has the unique quality of permeating everywhere and thereby propagating life everywhere on this planet. Air possess the vital energy necessary for our existence and it is this vital energy that I imbibe or shall I say drink and absorb everyday. This vital energy is the Vintage Wine I am referring to and since I was 48 last year when I registered on fropper, I added the tag 48 to make it sound like an exotic wine of a particular period or of a particular barrel numbered ‘48’. The barrel ofcourse being me.

I hope my explanation of the rationale for calling myself Vintagewine48 is understood and appreciated by my dear viewers and I hope I don’t get  invitations or offers to share a glass of the bubbly anymore for I have decided to abstain.

A friend of mine mentioned to me “it’s easier to forget the goodness that envelopes you”. He also seemed to imply that I was only highlighting negativity and wanted me to go out of my way to acknowledge, recommend and thank honest upright individuals whom we encounter everyday in public dealings. It is a pity that my friend has misunderstood me for wherever I have seen goodness; I have been the first person to acknowledge as well as appreciate goodness and honesty. You will find that some of my posts do highlight good people, but it is indeed being unrealistically optimistic to expect to meet good, honest, upright, citizens everyday.

Highlighting the good and ignoring the bad only emboldens evil doers and they have to be dealt held-on. If calling a spade a spade is pessimistic, then my friends and country men, I do stand guilty. At times, being humble in my success and in my victories has also been misunderstood by people as a sign of pessimism. If substituting the big “I” for a “zero” is a sign of pessimism, then my friends, I do stand guilty and am proud of being guilty.

If only Gandhi or Martin Luther King or Mandela had hesitated to raise their voices and call a spade a spade there would not have been an independent India, or equality for black Americans or the eradication of apartheid and the establishment of a new order. Don’t get me wrong for I am not and cannot be in the same league as these guys and just want to do my small bit to fight against injustice and dishonesty wherever it may be found.

Seriously and honestly, the only time I found a congregation of good people day in and day out was when I happened to live in a cuckoo’s nest for about three months as part of an endeavour to serve the mentally challenged. It was there that I found the maximum amount of goodness in one particular place. I do not include the doctors and hospital staff in this list for I could find none who fit into the category amongst them but only found the so called mentally challenged patients who inhabited this facility to posses this rare quality.

If indeed there was a lot of honesty and goodness around that I am failing to highlight, then certainly India should have been a better place to live in. The very fact that good people are sidelined and it is only the dishonest and corrupt who make it big in most worldly spheres is enough proof that goodness has been marginalised. Good people are hard to come by and it is always my endeavour to highlight their yeoman service and integrity to society. You would find some of my posts including the fiction that I write to highlight such good people irrespective of their worldly status.

That does not mean that I should not raise my voice against hypocrisy, corruption, dishonesty and greed. If by doing so, I am misunderstood as a pessimist, them it reveals only the plight of society as it is not a flaw in my nature but a flaw in such individuals who are those who possess what is aptly described in Hindi as the “Chalta Hai” attitude. It is not only highlighting the good that is necessary but at times it is necessary to expose the hypocrisy, corruption, dishonesty and greed that plague our society. This is necessary to bring about an awakening or should I say conscientisation of the masses.

I must admit that I have only met three good people in my life this far and I wish to highlight their contribution to make me what I am today. The three people I am referring to are my Mother, my Father and my Guru. I am not highlighting them just because they are my Mother, my Father and my Guru respectively but because they are really good individuals. None of these three could ever be accused of any dishonest act or any wickedness. I am thankful to God for having given me these three noble souls who have taught me the right values, the right spirit and the right path. Thank God for them.

We who talk about highlighting the good in society are actually those who encourage dishonesty by encouraging corruption and abetting dishonesty when we use shortcuts such as bribes to achieve our objectives at the earliest. It is basically the selfishness of man that has to be addressed, if goodness is to retain its value.

As the great poet Tagore rightly said,” Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake” and then I shall stop highlighting the negativity and evils in society for then there would be no evil to highlight and goodness will prevail all around…

Am writing this post with a heavy heart. A couple of months ago, I had posted a piece titled "THANK GOD! GOODNESS STILL PREVAILS!", in which I had mentioned about the hospitalisation of my Son for a broken forearm and appreciated the sense of unity and solidarity displayed by the patients and their families towards other patients and their families. I had concluded that when people suffer; that is to say, when they are in pain and distress they tend to be more united than they would be in moments of happiness.

There have been many new developments in the case of my Son’s broken left forearm that have made me post this piece. For the benefit of those unfamiliar with the earlier blog, I wish to provide a brief recap. My son aged ten fell down while skating in the compound of my block and suffered a fracture of the left forearm. Not having too much money and being unable to afford the expensive fees of private hospitals, we had taken him to the Government Royapettah hospital, Chennai, which is situated near my house and has a good reputation for orthopedic care.

The doctors who examined him had a plaster cast put on the hand but an x-ray taken after the cast was fixed revealed that the bones were not properly fixed due to the intrusion of tissues between the bones. They therefore wanted us to get him admitted and get it surgically fixed. Since my wife is a non-gazetted government servant and entailed to free treatment at government hospitals, we got the boy admitted the same night and he was operated upon the very next afternoon. The boy was provided post operative care at the hospital for almost ten days and later discharged.

We ensured that proper follow up was provided and he visited the hospital regularly as an out-patient to have his dressing changed and examined on a weekly basis. A month later the boy’s cast was removed and he started going back to school with his arm in a sling while follow up was continued on a weekly basis. Three weeks after his cast was removed his had gradually began to bend at the point of the fracture due to internal pressure exerted by the pulling of nerves and tissues. The doctor’s who attended on him did not seem in the least bothered and kept shunting him from one test to other.

Finally turning impatient last week, I visited the Chief of the Department of Orthopedics at the hospital a pompous gentleman who was more bothered about reading the morning newspapers rather than address my concerns about my Son. Finally the Chief having looked at the digital x-ray which he had requisitioned us to take at a private diagnostics centre informed us that a second reconstructive surgery was required and since the titanium plates used for such surgery are expensive and not readily available at Government hospitals he asked us to donate rupees twelve thousand to the hospital towards cost of the plate, after which they would operate upon the boy.

That was the last straw. I realised that the doctors there were not interested in treating people whom they considered capable of affording treatment privately. Infact these doctors were more keen on expanding their private practice during their spare time and when so called educated English speaking people like me and my family resorted to using the public health system they considered it an erosion of their customer base or rather depletion of the middle-class group that they were targeting in their private practices.

I therefore walked out of the government hospital and have now sought treatment through a private practioner who is to operate upon him shortly. It is a pity that in my precarious financial position I had tried to save money by going to the public health system which was definitely being penny wise and pound foolish.

The quality of the doctors who treated my Son left much to be desired for they looked more like ward boys and did not generate the reassuring confidence that would emanate from a capable doctor. I later learned that most routine surgery is being carried out by post graduate students of surgery and house surgeons while the chief surgeon and other senior surgeons do not even properly guide them.

It is a pity that I have allowed by Son’s arm to have become a training ground for such beginners to learn their trade. Moreover, I could sense the undercurrent of politics between doctors belonging to various groups. If I were to seek opinion from other doctors at the hospital the treating doctor seemed to consider it an affront to his credibility as a doctor rather than welcoming the second opinion.

I hope and pray that the private practioner will do a better job this time and get my Son’s hand back in shape as his future depends upon the proper usage of his limbs. However, the narration of this incident is not the purpose of this post. This incident has only led me to think about the quality of the doctors and the public health care system in India, at large. If this is the fate of an educated family at the hands of these unconcerned doctors, what then would be the plight of the almost illiterate masses who throng the public health care system?

Medicine as a profession has become totally commercialised as all other professions too have. Words like, commitment, concern, service, honesty, ethics, are not to be found in the lexicon of medical practitioners of the day and have been replaced by words such as profit, competition, unaccountability, irresponsibility, non-application of mind and greed. The opening up of medical education and the creation of private medical colleges has also contributed greatly to the fall in standards.

Mediocre students who do not posses that extra bit, both in terms of marks and brains, find admission into private medical colleges which are only too happy to accommodate them for a hefty fee, of course. Medical entrance tests are only screening applicants for knowledge in academic subjects without focusing on the most important ingredients to becoming a doctor, i.e. commitment, concern, a will to serve, etc. It would be advisable if applicants are screened psychologically and their E.Q levels also ascertained.

While the entire world now looks up to Indian doctors and Indian health care for inexpensive treatment, the same cannot be said for the future, if current trends prevail.

As the boys got on stage they were called aside by the organisers who requested them to stick to slow dance numbers as much as they could and pep them up with an occasional fast whirl. Val too believed that music for a dance show should be slow, romantic and set the mood for dancing. However, Ashley was really speeding by now and was in the mood to go wild. Sunny kept restraining Ashley and calming him down.

They started off with a slow waltz which was fairly good and then proceeded into a fox-trot which turned out to be more of a jaguar-trot as Ashley could not be restrained any further. Led by Ashley, the band then went into a rendition of “Uriah Heep’s” popular number titled “July Morning”. The crowd seemed not too pleased with it but was not too sour when the boys moved on to a number called “Sunrise”, which is also a Heep number. The people on the floor were gradually tiring as they had been dancing since ten in the night. It was well past two in the morning on Christmas day and ‘Val’s Pals’ then struck up a lively tango which had the dancers back on their feet.

Hooch was flowing like water at the hall though it was not officially being served by the organisers of the ball. The dancers seemed to have managed to smuggle in their own rations with the organisers turning a blind eye to the going ons. Ashley mellowed down a bit as the show progressed. The boys then began to play some “Bee Gee’s” and “Boney M” numbers as well. Since the boys had to perform till four in the morning they had sufficient time to try out their own slow compositions on the crowd.

The dancers were really tired by now and most of them were found lounging around in chairs laid out on the edges of the dance floor. The boys finally completed their performance and were provided hot coffee which they doctored with spirits to refresh themselves. The band from Bangalore then took over and Ashley and the boys strolled around observing the action on the floor. The Bangalore band was really quite good and there seemed to be a revival of interest on the dance floor.

As Ashley’s eyes roved around they came to rest on a doe eyed beauty named Lisa, a local girl who had been escorted to the dance by a rich local boy. She was indeed a stunner and had a rare innocence around her which served to make her all the more attractive. Ashley lost no time in staking his claim for the attention of this beautiful lassie. He walked up to the girl and introduced himself at an opportune moment when the girl’s escort had gone to the men’s room to relieve himself. By the time her escort had returned, Ashley had led the girl onto the dance floor and was to be found happily dancing away much to the chagrin of the escort. At the end of the dance, the escort rushed on to the floor and reclaimed his girl while Ashley and Lisa parted regretfully.

It was soon tag time and Ashley rushed off to obtain his tag coupons while the others looked on amusedly. Prasad wanted to return home as it had dawned by then and he badly wanted to get back to his wife and kids and spend the New year’s day with them. Meanwhile Val had gone into a huddle with the organisers and was busy collecting the money due to the band. As the dancing continued Ashley kept tagging Lisa and taking her away from her escort. The escort was rather exasperated by now. As Ashley tagged Lisa for the fifth time, her escort blew up. He walked out in a huff leaving Ashley and Lisa to dance blissfully unaware that the guy had gone only to return with his friends at the end of the number.

The escort asked Ashley to step aside into the garden for a chat and as soon as Ashley obliged the escort and his friends set about Ashley and attacked him. Ashley was no pushover for he had grown up as a kid on the sordid streets and bye-lanes of Madras. Moreover, he was tripping on amphetamine and alcohol which made him a vicious customer. As soon as the local boys laid their hands on him Ashley let out a volley of blows aimed purposefully at the escort. A huge right hook caught the escort flush on the left side of his jaw, throwing him backwards as his jaw hung limply and uselessly while blood rushed out from the side of his mouth.

Ashley’s reaction made the locals all the more furious. They charged towards him but Ashley deftly avoided them and landed a couple of more punches on his assailants leaving two of them badly wounded; one with a fractured right forearm and the other with a couple of crushed ribs. As Val and the boys heard the commotion, realised what was happening and rushed out to help Ashley and separate the locals from him, pandemonium broke out in the hall. All the locals ganged up together as Prasad, Val and Sunny tried to pacify them while Rashid quietly dragged Ashley away from the hall.

As tempers began to subside, the three injured were rushed to the hospital. Prasad being a local had considerable clout amongst the local men who were angry with Ashley’s behavior. Finally at eight in the morning Val returned to the hostel room while Prasad found Ashley and Rashid loitering on the beach near the train tracks and took them along with him to his own home as he considered it unsafe for Ashley to return to the hostel. He knew the locals would try to retaliate and he wanted to make sure that nothing untoward happened to him and the other boys.

It was therefore left for Sunny to proceed to Sofia’s bungalow and celebrate the remainder of the New Year’s Day with her. Sofia was only too glad to have Sunny spend New Year’s Day with her. She made him roast chicken which they drowned with wine for lunch. The wine made Sunny drowsy since he had not slept the previous night. It also served as an aphrodisiac and they both bolted themselves inside Sofia’s bedroom and stayed in bed until the evening when they left for the show at six. 

The remaining five days of their contract were a terrifying period for Sunny. Prasad would constantly escort Ashley and Rashid wherever they went for he was sure that tragedy would befall them if they ventured out alone. Hitting an escort had resulted in Ashley needing an escort for the remainder of his stay in Calicut. The gigs at the hotel seemed lifeless in comparison to their earlier performances. A sense of melancholy seemed to grip their music as they realised that ‘Val’s Pals’ would soon be breaking up. 

Sunny stayed on at Sofia’s place for the remaining five days and refused to return to the hostel for fear of being bashed up. Sunny was feeling rather home sick and missed his home with his cosy room as well as his friends, ‘the bus stop boys’. He had decided that he wanted to return to Madras. He wanted to go back to college from which he had dropped out. He realised he was not cut out for the romantic life of a wandering musician and the adventures it entailed. Sofia was upset that Sunny did not want to accompany her to Bangalore and shed copious tears in Sunny’s arms while Sunny assured her that life was nothing but a cycle and that they surely would meet some day.

The members of ‘Val’s Pals’ were quite clear about their future plans. Prasad had agreed to come for a five month contract with Val to Cochin after a couple of weeks while Val planned to go to Madras which was his hometown and rest a couple of weeks there, before assembling two musicians and then moving on to Cochin where he would be joined by Prasad. He was determined that come what may he would continue to call his band ‘Val’s Pals’. Sunny was also going back home and he hopefully planned to rejoin college by June that year. He had saved sufficient money to pay his way through college. Ashley and Rashid were headed for Bangalore to try their luck there before proceeding to Goa. Sofia and the other girls along with their ‘Master’ had obtained a three month contract to perform at a hotel in Bangalore and were proceeding there after spending a couple of days more in Calicut.

Soon it was the fifth of January, nineteen seventy nine and the boys were playing their last gig at Queens. Each of them knew that they would not be seeing the others for quite sometime and the boys were in a sombre mood. That night after the show, the strip-tease team threw a farewell party for the musicians. Val was not present as was expected of him. The boys, Rashid included, enjoyed themselves thoroughly. Prasad for a change stayed back to join the fun without rushing back home to his wife and kids. The boys had trains to catch the next evening and therefore finally called it curtains at six in the morning.

As was their practice Ashley and Rashid decided to travel ticketless to Bangalore. Sunny did not want to bear another night’s agony of ticketless travel and ensured that he and Val had reserved tickets with berths for them to travel to Madras that night. Mr. Bunny, the Manager came to the station to see them off at six in the evening along with Prasad, Sofia and the other girls. Ashley and Rashid planned to hitch a ride in the same train along with Val and Sunny and get down at Coimbatore to take another train to Bangalore. Sofia cried and cried and cried as the trained moved off from the platform.

It is now thirty years since ‘Val’s Pals’ was formed. The flower children are not children any more. The flowers have begun to wither; some of them prematurely. “The bus stop boys” of our story had a tough time surviving the new era that was dawning. Ashley returned to Madras six months after he left for Bangalore with Rashid. Actually, Ashley was forced to return as he was served an ultimatum by Pearl, his steady girl friend in Madras to return and marry her or forget her. Rashid as was his nature had taken off from Bangalore and had proceeded to Kulu Manali in the north, ticketless as usual; breaking journey during the days and stealing bags at night.

Ashley returned to Madras, married Pearl and got a job as a sea man in the merchant navy. He would sail for nine months and then return to Madras for three months before setting off on another voyage. However, Ashley continued to do drugs until his thirty fifth year, when tortured by his addiction and on the verge of death due to disease he had attempted suicide in the Bay of Bengal but was saved and helped by a Christian evangelist to reform his ways. He was baptised by the evangelist in the Bay itself and began a new life as a born again Christian.

After having saved sufficient money in the merchant navy, Ashley took to the pulpit to give his testimony. He soon set up his own church on the outskirts of Madras. Ashley  or Bro. Ashley as he is popularly known today is the pastor of a large congregation and owns two buildings, one which houses his family and the other which serves as the church. He is chauffeured around in a Scorpio while his wife drives a Chevy. The church has been built differently and the pulpit is nothing but a three foot high stage fully equipped with all the latest musical equipment and electronic gadgets. It is on this stage that Ashley performs every Sunday along with a band of born again Christians who play Christian rock, much to the delight, of the gathered congregation. Ashley is now “Mr. Clean” personified and does not touch a drop of liquor nor does drugs anymore.

Val has now retired from the music circuit and lives in Madras with an aged aunt. Val has also been born again at the hands of Ashley and helps out in Ashley’s church by being a part of the band. Prasad continues to live a secluded life in Calicut. Both his children have done well for themselves and are settled abroad. They send sufficient money for Prasad and his wife to live a fairly comfortable life.

As for Sunny, he went back to college paid his own way through without depending upon his father; did well for himself and became a corporate hot-shot. At the age of thirty, Sunny happened to meet a Sanyasin who changed his life thereafter. Sunny turned clean and began an inner quest that was to gradually wean him away from his corporate career. At the age of forty eight, Sunny after almost twenty six years of corporate existence renounced the world and began to gradually shrink his desires. He has currently gone off consumption and feels that consumerism is the curse and bane of society. He has stopped keeping up with the Jones’ and remains completely content to spend his time in prayer.

Rashid used to continue his occasional visits to Madras to hang out with ‘the bus stop boys’ but after ten years or so he stopped coming. No one knew what happened to Rashid but it was rumored that Rashid had lifted a heavy suitcase off a running train on which he was travelling, ticketless as always and as luck would have it, the suitcase was found to be filled with gold bars worth cores of rupees. The grape vine had it that Rashid had taken the money he had obtained by selling the gold ingots and had settled somewhere in Rajasthan which afforded him proximity to Ajmer. Much later another rumour started floating around that Rashid had been travelling ticketless on a train that was passing through Godhra in Gujarat when it was set on fire by arsonists leading to Rashid’s unfortunate end. Whatever, the case may be; may God bless his soul.

Thirty years later on 15th September, 2008, the founder members of Val’s Pals had a reunion which was arranged by Ashley. Prasad was invited and managed to come by train, with a ticket of course. Ashley managed to locate Sunny and send him an invitation to join the reunion. Sunny willingly set aside his vow of laying of consumption, for a single day and joined them at the reunion. There was no liquor, no dope, and no speed at the reunion only dinner prepared by Pearl, Ashley’s faithful wife was served and the friends were high on pure friendship and reminiscences of that winter of 1978-79.

Some of the flowers had indeed borne fruit. 

                 THE END.