Kill Better Than Cure

A fortnight before his 25^th Birthday, Kasab is hit by the news of his Death Sentence being upheld by the Supreme Court of India. Ajmal Kasab was the only one to be caught alive of the 10 member terrorist group who spray painted Mumbai in blood. This attack not only made us aware of what terrorists can do but also raised serious question on the Homeland Security of India. An act of waging war resulted in a Death Penalty for the only serving disoriented youth turned jihadi born in Pakistan.  

 This was more than well received by the people of India. The country rejoiced as it finally became apparent that India is ready to deliver harsh punishments to those who pose threat to the integrity of this great land. The Economist once said that the 26/11 trial will be a test of the Indian judiciary and the resolve of the people of India; if they meant pronouncing a death sentence as the great test then we have passed. People of India majorly have also accepted and applauded the SC’s call. People like Raj Thakare have even gone so far as to distribute sweets and call it a day of celebration. And in a country as democratic as India there are people who opposed the death sentence. 

Not surprisingly, there are NGO’s, activists, past court judges, and the so called intellectuals who are against the death penalty. Firstpost made an informative post that meandered about the idea of death penalty. It spoke of how India is one among the few nations that still administer execution as a punishment. At the same time the post also spoke of how difficult it is to kill convicts. The stats said that in the past 17 years only 1 convict has been executed while there are still more than 300 convicts on the death roll. 

All this is fine. Facts, numbers and stories speak the truth. India is weak in killing people, It does take a long time for our courts to move cases and we really have spent more than 50 crores for Kasab’s super security jail where he ate Biriyani twice a day. But what of him??

It’s very true that he is a terrorist who attacked India and all that is Indian, and we have spent a lot of money on him, he has stayed in jails for almost 4 years and had ‘Biriyani’. But does that mean he wanted this? Can you imagine how it must be to be caught in a prison was something like a terrorist attack? Receiving all those methods of physical and mental torture in the prisons (which of course doesn’t come out in the media) being disowned by his country, his parents and everything that he considered his must have played something on his head. How must it feel when no one knows what you feel inside and then come out and make comments, rejoice and celebrate something about you without knowing how you’ve felt. 

It reminds me of my placement season in college. The placements were in full force. Companies kept flying in every day and almost everyone in the college had at least 1 job offer by the end of the first month. As the second and third months rolled on, my close friends, not so close ones, everyone had a job and some 2 or 3, but I had nothing in hand, I hadn’t even been able to attend interviews thanks to my root burrowing marks.  Depression, deprivation, lowliness, loneliness and a few other ness-es crowded my life and I was a walking dead in a world full of opportunities. And finally at the fag end of the placement season, I found a job that suited me and incidentally it was the first company to announce the joining date. As months passed and everyone had joined work, we met once at college and everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to be the first one to start working, and how I ‘hit’ a jackpot in the end… well it wasn’t hard to smile at them but it was hard for me to tell them how much mental and emotional stress I had been in while they were boasting and toasting their placements oblivious to my sorrow. 

The same is what I saw when Veerappan, the Elephant Ivory and Sandalwood thief and the much feared dacoit in the woods of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu was killed in an encounter with the Veerappan Special Task force in the October of 2004.  As the people of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu celebrated the death of the dacoit, his family and thousands of forest dwellers mourned his death. It is also reported that thousands of people were gathered for his funeral. And on the other side there were people like us rejoicing his death. I ask you here, is it so hard to stay neutral? Empathise a little, people like Veerappan or Kasab might be bad, but they’re humans too.

Coming to Kasab, in some interrogations, he has switched sides, and the police express their shock at this. It is reported that Kasab said that his operators offered money and security to his family, and if the India Police did the same, he was ready to work for them as well. There are also outcomes in the interrogations that suggest Kasab had noidea what was there in the Quran, on being asked about it, he only spoke of Jihad, and only a few high sounding lines at that. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kasab chose death over a painful half-life.

I’m not supporting Kasab, and I am definitely not against his death. I’m just saying kill him fast. Finish the cursed case. He might just be a juvenile well-meaning for his family, or he might be a deadly terrorist, but he wronged. And for this he must be punished. Kill him, but don’t keep his body and mind in a place where no one wants him, don’t let him go mad, don’t torture him with uncertainty. Give him death, not cruelty.  

  

Write Winged

Generally I start my Guest posts by talking a little about the guest author or just start off by writing something that would suit the mood, but here I dont think anything is required. Her write has such a beautiful flow that you just cant stop reading... so without boring you anymore... read....

 

I’m one of the aunts Sriharsha keeps speaking of in his blog (although you won’t know which one because there are five of us – at least, not unless he specifies it). Well, to put it more specifically, it’s the aunt whose kid’s article in “The Hindu” Harsha put up last week on the blog.

When Harsha asked if I would write something for his blog, I did not exactly jump at the offer because he caught me in a sort-of burnout from all the writing (non-stop almost) done over the past two years. But, agree I did, out of a sense of kinship – I could identify with the need to take a break from writing, and besides, how could I say no to my own nephew when I wrote for people I didn’t even know!!

Just for background – I’m presently a full-time Asst. Professor at a private college in Bangalore, and a freelance writer for online and print media.

How Writing Changed Me

I read this statement once that the more things change, the more they remain the same. It sounded strange and flawed at first glance and it set me thinking of things to refute this logic. I didn’t have to look too far because my own experience proved how a single step can be the gateway to a sea of change. A simple email I sent on a whim to a content writing firm in July 2010 turned out to be my induction into an entire new world – one filled with sitting non-stop at a newly-acquired laptop, learning to navigate through keyword specifications, subtitle and bulleted list requirements, avoiding run-on sentences, steering clear of plagiarism, ensuring what I write doesn’t put people to sleep etc etc etc.

My perspective widened

As I began researching and writing, every single topic I worked on helped to contribute to my knowledge. Being an avid reader, I enjoyed the process of finding information on topics that I would never otherwise have a reason to read about. Whether it was about starting a flower basket business, managing diabetes and hypertension, or dealing with a differently-abled child, choosing the right television antenna or retirement home, or becoming a basketball coach or taking up TOEFL and SAT, every article I wrote gave me information that helped me obtain an entirely new perspective.

I manage time better

In the beginning stages, it often took me around two hours to complete a 500-word article with more time being spent on researching than on the actual writing. Gradually, I learnt to manage time better by focusing first on information needed for the article. Simultaneously, I also maintained a list of the websites that had interesting information and visited those at leisure for my personal reading. Besides, it came to my notice that completing the assignment became simple if I began with the easy part and then went on to tackle the part that appeared difficult. As I grew adept at using this system, the time required for the 500-word, good quality article came down to about one hour and currently hovers to between 35 to 45 minutes.

Empathy increased

With time, I noticed that all my articles which garnered praise were the ones that had a basic simplicity to them – they were the ones that spoke directly and honestly to the reader. This taught me how important it is for a writer to be able to identify with the needs of the audience. Ever since, I make it a point to read my own writing from the viewpoint of the intended reader, making corrections every time I find that fancy words detract from the meaning of what I’m trying to convey. I’ve found that this has also helped me in the classroom – I’m now more sensitive to the requirements of my students and tailor my teaching to ensure they receive relevant information in an engaging format.

Taking criticism is now easier

There is one thing that is more unpleasant than writing on a difficult topic – rewriting it. Not only do you have to start from a new angle, you are also burdened with the emotional baggage that is often a result of a hurt ego. Writing has taught me to face criticism with equanimity. As I continue writing, I have developed the ability to face up honestly to my mistakes. More importantly, it has taught me to take the occasional unduly harsh comment in my stride without letting it bruise my self-confidence.

However, as I continue mulling it over, perhaps the person who made that statement (a quick search on Google shows it’s part of a song by Bon Jovi) is not entirely wrong. After all, I was writing something unique at every point of time – whether it was the answers that my classmates copied in their homework books, the meticulous notes in college that friends swore by or the articles I now write.  Besides, there is one thing that has still remained the same – the joy and thrill that I experience every time I sit down to write.

Whew!! That’s quite a lot I’ve written, and I hope you managed to make your way through without losing interest…I’d love to hear what you think…..so do write in with comments.

~Anu

Nine Over Mine

The breezy Wednesday morning had more to offer than just blowing air and ice cold water in the tap. The first smiles of the morning were delivered when I saw my nine year old cousin’s name in my inbox. There was a mail from my aunt, who wished to share her son’s first article in the papers with me. 

My cousin Sanath is a 9 year old school going child who likes playing Cricket and is a huge fan of Rajini Kanth. He loves Tamil movies and songs, and off late has found a liking for the Kannada movies of Puneet Raj Kumar. 

Being born in a family of teachers and administrators, Sanath is insistent on solving problems.

HOW I COPE

I worry that my teacher will shout at me if I do not take the books correctly. Therefore, I have made it a habit to check twice that I have kept the books correctly as per the time table.

When I get very angry or irritated, I follow my grandmother’s advice to drink two glasses of water. I also try to figure out if I am hungry and if this is true, I eat something. Many times, I feel my anger goes away along with my hunger.

Sometimes, I feel stressed before the final exams and at such times, I pray and this helps me to calm down. 

Whenever anything happens that makes me feel very bad, I talk to someone – my mother, father or grandmothers, about it depending on who is there at that time. Also, I try to keep in mind what my mother always tells me when I get upset about something: “For everything, there is always a solution. All you have to do is remember this and think calmly.”

~ Sanath

The write talks about coping with problems from a 9 year old’s point of view, but it makes sense to all. The point Sanath makes in his write is to seek help.

If only our pride grew shorter with age…

Why grow up??

Good memory you have ya, I hardly remember anything I did as a kid.

Was kind of a late reply.

Mine was a little quicker; I said

The trick is to never grow up. That way you don’t have to remember the things you did as a kid cuz you’d still be doing or atleast thinking the same things.

I thought more after she said:

Ah! How I wish to be a kid again.

Children’s day is not far; remember to let yourself loose this children’s day… Right now I gotta get some sleep... so bye good night! 

Little did I know then that I would be thinking about this chat while at bed playing catch till sleep was offered. It wasn’t long before I realized that I had just said something that I had never really believed. Suddenly I had told someone that I didn’t like growing up. Shocking. I really wanted to be a grown up. I was always treated like a kid. Something less than grown up - insignificant. I don’t know if it was my goofy way of talking and staying funny in an immature way or just my appearance, but I was always looked upon as an insignificant kid. I was always irritated when people called me or said that they thought of me as a kid, especially girls! Huh! Wait till I take my pants off, you won’t call me a kid then! 

Thinking about the insignificance of kids, it reminded me of an episode of Two and a Half Men; where Charley tells Jake “you’re a kid, it doesn’t matter what you think”

Well, I did laugh at it.

Staying over the thought of television I remembered a popular Hindi movie where Ranbir Kapoor gets yelled at for being too immature by a girl who later becomes his lover. Ranbir doesn’t retaliate in denial. He comes out and yells back at her admitting that he is a kid, and if trying to prove yourself right  or worrying about future is all that grownups do then he never wants to grow up. 

I appreciated that scene, but always thought responsibility made me happy.

Another such episode was from DraganBallGT. A scene where Goku, Pan and Trunks were looking for a DragonBall under water. Guku just takes off all his cloths and jumps into the pond. Pan gets grossed up looking at her nude grandpa. She yells at him and tells him that he is an adult and should behave like one. To which, Goku says:

If being an adult means swimming with your clothes on, then I never wanna grow up.

It’s just marvelous how almost nothing bothers a kid. Children surely are the little lamps that spread joy and love everywhere they go. An old story that’s still shared among people of Vasantapura is the story of Raaghu Bhattar and Shiva Swamy of Vasantapura. Shiva swamy and Raaghu Bhattar were big men of the village, one a devout shiva worshiper and the other a strict vishnavaite. They never saw each other and never entered each other’s temples. They were the modern day version of vasista and vishwamitra.

It was the days of the yearly village fest in vasantapura. The whole village was on the streets and there were just as many visitors from other villages; some were city dwellers from the nearby Bangalore. The scene was just lovely. Bouquets of Music and Dance performances in the village’s center square, vendors of a hundred kind occupying every inch of the road and women wearing cloths of every imaginable color, all saree clad; each like a traditional Indian woman.

 Raaghu Bhattar and Shiva swamy were very busy, talking, meeting, smiling and bowing at every visitor. They had to keep their contacts with the rich devotees. Though they were both happy and occasionally spoke to the same person, they never once looked at each other.

 It was after the dust had settled and evening prayers offered that everyone took to the center square again. A kid tugged on shiva swamy’s dhoti. He was crying. A three year old lost kid was lifted on to the shoulders by Shiva swamy who went about the square trying to make the kid from crying. He knew very well the kid was Raaghu Bhattar’s grandson. Yet he held the kid in his arms and walked over half the village. 

 To this day, the dwellers of Vasantapura speak of this tale of how an insignificant three year old melted the heart of a high priest who detested the other pillar of the village. 

Maybe that’s why being a kid is so nice. Being insignificant and not bothered by it, not bothered by position and status, and the least bothered about what others think of us.  Maybe it is the urge of proving our significance that makes us old; the conscious struggle to make a place for ourselves makes us lose the meaning of belonging.

 People generally see the dawning of responsibility or being able to take decisions or simple earning and feeding as coming of age. But is it really worth it? Is money and pride really worth the innocence and carefree childhood? 

Everyone grows up into an adult at some time. But that doesn’t mean the child in you has to die.

After all, Child is Father of Man. 

Timepass for real??

The name of this blog, Dr Timepass was something I came up in my first year college for a nerd band, we thought it was geeky enough and also had a little word play involved. We thought Time would eventually pass and swallow if not solve everything.  It’s not much, but if you had academic and romantic setbacks early in college, then this line can mean a lot. We would live strong thinking about the future; thinking that these times would just pass.  

Can time really heal? I always doubted.

Most of my learning and revelation happens at work, a certain Wednesday of March 2012 was something similar. The wooden wall décor in the meeting room of 8^th floor reminded me of a bed time story my father would tell me when I was little. 

I’ll try to keep it short :D

The story is of a young boy. He was a very mischievous and rather rough sort of a kid. He would fight with his friends at school, knock things off shelves in grocery stores and things like that. His father would be badly hurt by the complaints brought by the other people in the neighborhood. But he never raised his voice to scold or yell at his son. Instead, he went to the market and got a plank of plywood and a hundred iron nails. He called his son and explained.

‘Look son, every time I get a complaint from someone I will hammer a nail into this board and at the end of the week, you can come see how many complaints I got and decide what you want to do about it’

The son being his rough and unruly-self walked out not bothering about it.

As days turned into weeks, the father would do his hammering of nails as the complaints increased. The boy never came and saw the plank. 

After a few months, the father was shocked and hurt to see that the plank was full of nails, and his son had never once come to see the plank.

The father went to his son and called him to see the plank. On seeing the wooden plank packed with hard iron nails something struck in him.

He would eventually realize his bad deeds and turn to the ways of good. His father would then tell the boy that it was never late to correct his mistakes and tell the boy that he would remove a nail whenever someone came around to praise the boy.

So, in time the boy turned to the ways of being good and earned a lot of love and respect. His father would also be happy on receiving praises of his son and would remove a nail each time.

When all the nails were removed of the plank, the boy stood by his father proud chested and asked what his father thought of him now. The father being a man of intellect, told him 

‘Observe closely, all the nails have been pulled out, but have the holes been filled?’

The boy would hang his head and then look up in remorse. 

‘What is once done cannot be undone. No matter how hard you try, the holes cannot be refilled.’

It brings us back to Dr Timepass. Is it really impossible to fill some holes? Does that mean the phrase “time heals” is bull crap? 

Ah time, so fascinating, so frightening, and so precious. I just wish I have enough time to fill those holes.

Fight For Who?

As I picked up the old book again, the words 

“he didn’t want nothing for himself” 

grew over me. Bound by its echoing cries I took a closer look, close enough to smell its age. April ’80 was written at the bottom of the first page. A few faded words making a sentence could be made out just above the date. 

It read:

"Do you think you can fight for others?

Usha Ratna"

The person who had gifted this book to my aunt over 30 years ago had  mockingly laid in a stiff punch.

I had missed this line when I first started reading the book. Maybe it was the eagerness of starting my first Steinbeck or the poise of being allowed to try a communist book or simply getting a book from my aunt, I just missed it. 

But it came back with all guns blazing.

I was lost for words, emptied of thoughts, and devoid of feelings. I was lost. 

Thirty years after the book had first traded hands, it spoke to me. 

“Do you have what it takes to fight for others?”

I don’t know. 

Maybe I do. Maybe it’s easier to fight for others. If you are fighting against being selfish and looking for ways to be selfless. Fighting against bonds, trying hard to stay detached, free, and bigger than yourself. Looking for some kind of meaning, a place, your place; without losing your balance or the touch of reality. Then maybe we should take to fighting others’ battles. 

Or do we even care?