A Human Approach to Impending Danger

Photo | PTI

Ostriches supposedly bury their heads in the sand when they are threatened or frightened. It is universally agreed that this is the stupidest of moves. My 10 – year old who loves animals, birds and National Geographic busted this myth. She told me that it is an optical illusion because these large birds have disproportionately tiny heads and when they are checking on their eggs which they have laid by digging deep holes in the dirt and building their nests, it looks like they have their heads buried in the sand. Humans on the other hand have a pronounced tendency to stick their heads up their backsides in the middle of a crisis or even otherwise, and that I am afraid is no myth.

For instance, take lockdown 4.0 currently in progress. There are thousands of rules about what the citizens can or cannot do which are disseminated on news channels and via Whatsapp forwards. Thousands of Covid - related circulars have been issued by the Central and state governments to clarify or counter instructions given in circulars circulated earlier and we can expect thousands more to ‘clarify’ the clarifications. It is a vicious circle and the end result is chaos. The only thing that is crystal clear is that none of the people who have been entrusted with the fate of the nation have a clue about what ought to be done.

Sample this. Liquor shops were opened across the length and breadth of the country thanks to government orders. According to some statistics I dredged up from the internet more people die every hour from alcohol – related issues than Corona at its most contagious. And yet, the government in its infinite wisdom decides that is imperative that the good citizens be allowed to drink themselves to death and spread the damn virus even as the curve stubbornly refuses to flatten. Given the big bucks liquor sales rake in for the government it is easy to see why such a dubious decision was made even as unemployment rates soar and suicide cases have spiked over people’s inability to make ends make.

Then there is the question of the migrant labourers. The government has opened train services to help them reach their homes, but apparently they have to cough up dough they do not have to avail themselves of these services. According to the Inter – State Migrant Workmen Act, 1979, on cessation of employment, the employer must pay the employee’s fare for their journey home. Why is this law being ignored? Also has any thought at all been put into the fact that this exodus from the red urban zones to the green rural areas heightens the risk of contagion? Also how will businesses that have been re – opened find labourers when they have no idea about how or if the migrant workers will make it back to their jobs?

Then there is the question of population explosion. A top UN body has declared that India is projected to record 20 million births between March and December, 2020. It is a pity that contraceptives are not counted as a must have and no steps are being taken to make them available free of cost for the poor and needy.

There seems to be little preparation or planning for the cataclysmic aftermath of Corona and if we don’t remove our heads from where they are currently lodged at present, they will roll. 

This article was originally published in The New Indian Express.

Why are so many of our Gods and a certain celebrated beauty blue?

Draupadi: The Dusky Beauty

It has always bothered me that Rama, Krishna, and Draupadi are depicted as blue - skinned in countless paintings, illustrations, and other works of art. The mythological lore clearly states that Rama was dark even before he went into exile under an unforgiving sun and became deeply tanned. Ditto for Krishna who was always the dark lord, not like Voldemort with his preoccupation with the dark magic arts but on account of his complexion which has been likened to dark storm clouds and the night sky. Draupadi was a black beauty and the poets compare her skin to the rare blue lotus. Another name for the common wife of the Pandavas was Krishnaa, because of her dark and dusky complexion which was every bit as attractive and irresistible as Krishna's. So why then do we insist on using blue paint for their skin when black is readily available?

Of course, there will be folks who suggest that the 'blue' indicates a spiritual aura or the transcendental nature of their divine essence that magnified the allure of the likes of Rama, Krishna and Shiva. I am convinced that there is a more prosaic explanation. Could it be the annoying Indian obsession with fairness and a stubborn inability to acknowledge that black is beautiful? After all, it is this line of dubious thinking that has birthed the fairness cream industry which does a brisk business amounting to thousands of crores, by convincing folks who ought to know better with relentless advertising insisting that an unnatural alabaster - hued countenance is the only guarantor of finding success, fame, happiness and a suitable life partner or even the job of one's choice.

So many little girls and boys grow up thinking they are unattractive because those surrounding them force them to endure cruel barbs directed at their dusky skin tone and keep suggesting moronically that they use this fairness cream or that so that they can look like the Bollywood stars who are paid a fortune to peddle this garbage. They pay the exorbitant rates charged in parlors without demur and undergo painful procedures in the  foolish hope that their efforts will be rewarded and they will look like white people or at the very least like Michael Jackson at his creepiest. And we like to kid ourselves into thinking we are civilized, enlightened people who are not fixated on superficial things like the color of one's skin or inclined to judge a person's worth on the basis of their complexion.

This ridiculous bias that dark skin is inferior is so deep rooted that there is evidence of it everywhere. While working on the illustrations for #MahabharataWithAnuja, the original sketches of Draupadi depicted a typical babe with that improbable 'golden countenance' so beloved by artists. Had to talk them into using darker shades repeatedly till I was somewhat satisfied. However, for Krishna, that blasted blue shade was used and the recognition factor was cited. I gave in but it still irks me no end.

It is high time we celebrated the unsung glory of black and brown skin, and wear it with pride. I call upon all artists, painters and art lovers to create or share pics featuring all things dark and beautiful including Gods, Goddesses and dusky heroines minus that electrifying blue. As for the others who are unable to get over their fondness for all things milky white, I'll thank you to show some restraint and stop tsking over the complexions of the dark skinned. Maybe the next generation of kids will feel comfortable in their own skin and won't waste their time and money by slathering their mugs with dodgy products hawked by the unscrupulous who are too shallow to recognize that true beauty will never be skin deep. 

Powerful Women from the Mahabharata: Satyavati

A smitten Shantanu with Satyavati. 

Don't you just hate it when fairy tales feature helpless women who are fair and lovely but either sleep through their own life, remain locked up in a towers guarded by fire - breathing dragons and evil witches or take an ill - advised bite from a poisoned apple and become comatose, till a handsome Prince shows up on horseback to kiss their troubles away? Then they get married and live crappily ever after. Even as a kid, these stories did not really work for me. I prefer characters who take control of their own damn lives, messy though it may become and shape their legacy. And speaking of taking control, few ladies in the annals of mythology and literature have displayed the grit and gumption of Satyavati in her male dominated world.

Satyavati's origins could not have been humbler. Raised by the chief of fishermen, as a youngster she ferried passengers across the river Yamuna, on her small boat. Naturally, she smelled fishy and that is not a scent people seek to bottle and sell for a small fortune, nor does such powerful bodily odours win the heart of Kings. However, her luck changed when she crossed paths with Sage Parashara. The ascetic was smitten and confessed his feelings for her. The prepossessing young girl was coy though and not quite willing to give herself to the sage. Parashara, cajoled her into obliging, by granting her two boons - her maidenhood would remain intact after she bore him a son and her fishy odour would be replaced by the fragrant scent of musk. Satyavati conceded and delivered none other than Veda Vyasa who promised to be there for his mother whenever she needed him. All she had to do when she required his presence was to think of him! (For obvious reasons, a story like this stretches the rules of logic in favor of narrative convenience but then the reader must remember that most stories are best enjoyed with a dash of salt, pepper, or your favorite seasoning including the ones carried in Newspapers and Whatsapp University which are supposed to be 'true facts'.)

The best of sons, Veda Vyasa proceeded to give his mother an exotic origin story (which tests the demands of rationale to breaking point). He writes of a great King named Uparichara Vasu, who married the lovely and virtuous Girika. This dutiful wife on discovering that she was ovulating sent a message to her husband and prepared to receive him. However, the King's ancestors made an inopportune demand and insisted that he hunt deer  and offer the venison to them as sraddha. Immediately, Uparichara Vasu set aside all thoughts of concupiscent bliss and took off to the forest to do his duty by is forefathers. However, his thoughts were on Girika, so he shed his seed and entrusted it to a helpful eagle, asking the bird to carry it to his wife.

A less helpful eagle attacked the seed bearing one en route, with the unfortunate but predictable result of the royal burden being dropped. The stuff landed in a river with quite the plop and was promptly swallowed by a fish. Naturally, this was no ordinary fish, but an apsara named Adrika, who was cursed to remain in that state till she delivered human children. Adrika delivered twins and took off immediately after the curse was lifted (Interestingly, the ancients were most insistent that women bear children but did not seem to mind when they did not hang around to do the actual mothering. They believed that a child's optimum development was aided if parents maintained a healthy distance and left the child to the care of a suitable Guru). The King was duly informed and he made the callous decision, to take the baby boy who was named Matsya while Satyavati was given to the chief of fishermen.

Yet, it was the girl he abandoned, who would go on to achieve great things. Satyavati, blessed with the irresistible fragrance bestowed upon her by Parashara would go on to win the heart of King Shantanu, prompting the great Bhishma to take the Bhramachari oath to unite his father and the fisher chief's daughter. It was also thanks to her efforts, that the Kuru lineage was perpetuated. But that is a story for another day, about the Niyoga tradition that was an ancient version of sperm donation. (If you want the details be sure to check out episode 3 ,  4, of Mahabharata with Anuja).

As for Satyavati herself, she remains an inspiration to all who seek to brave less than favorable odds and unfortunate circumstances to make what they will of themselves. It is a harsh truth, but the world never has been a fair place and I daresay, it never will be. But the encouraging thing is that not all who are blessed with privilege and opportunities galore succeed and not all who have been robbed of favor or chances succumb to failure. There are plenty of real life Satyavatis out there who offer proof if any were needed, that all it takes to achieve more than you dared dream possible, is to take your courage in your hands and make the most of what you have. Even if it appears to be nothing (and reeks of smelly fish). 

Angry women from the Mahabharata: Amba

The story of Amba in the Mahabharata is a heart - rending one. A Princess of Kasi, she was abducted by Bhishma against her wishes at her swayamvara along with her sisters, Ambika and Ambalika. She had chosen King Shalva as her husband and he reciprocated her feelings. Shalva gave chase but he was outclassed by Bhishma in a fierce clash and would have lost his life if Amba had not intervened and begged Bhishma to spare him. Later, Amba approached Queen Satyavati and Bhishma, informing them that she had intended to garland Shalva at the swayamvara and it behooved them to escort her back to her chosen one.

Bhishma complied with her wishes. But Shalva was a sore loser and rejected her, saying that her face would remind him of the defeat he had suffered on her account. Poor Amba returned to Hastinapura, where she was rejected by Vichitravirya, the weakling Prince who counted on Bhishma to fight his battles and win his brides. Then, she swallowed her pride and begged Bhishma to marry her himself but that he could not do. That was when her broken heart hardened with anger and she decided that Bhishma would pay the price for ruining her life and dreams.

Amba's hatred of Bhishma would propel her every action and deed for the rest of her life and the next one too. She received a boon from Shiva that she would be the instrument of Bhishma's death and was re - born as King Drupada's daughter. Determined to see her vendetta through to the bitter end, she defied censure and traditional gender assignment to bring about the grandsire's downfall.

How could even Shikandhin derive any satisfaction from this heartbreaking sight?

While I sympathize with Amba, I have always wondered if as Shikandhin, she was genuinely happy or satisfied to see Bhishma laid low on a bed of arrows, afloat on an ocean of pain. After all, the noble soul knew the truth about her past, and had steadfastly refused to fight her, not because he was trans-phobic or thought of her as unworthy but because he would not hurt her any more than he already had.

 Moreover, the great man was beloved and highly respected by all who fought on the battlefield of Kurukshetra and otherwise. His fall was not celebrated by a single warrior on either side and they all shed tears over his loss. Arjuna who shielded by Shikandhin had taken down the mighty warrior was distraught with grief and even Bhishma comforted him, insisting that he be the one to provide a fitting pillow for his hanging head and quench his thirst as a mark of his high regard and as a sign of his forgiveness. Shikhandin on the other hand was universally reviled for his role in this affair, and it was a continuation of the rejection and hate he had endured all his life unlike the love that was showered on his popular siblings, Draupadi and Dhrishtadyumna, who were jointly exalted as the jewel and pride of Panchala.

There was worse in store for Shikhandin. At the end of the war, he found himself on the winning side but even this victory was short-lived. Ashwathamma knifed him down while he was sleeping off the effects of the revels. An ignominious end to two lifetimes consumed by rage and bitter hate. How could Amba or Shikandhin be gratified by any of it? This always tore at my heart, so I dug around for more on the fate of Amba and found something heartening or at least I insist on seeing it that way.

You can check out my book, Ganga: The Constant Goddess for the details. Ganga was heartsick that there was somebody in the world who hated her son more than all those who loved him to pieces. She chided Bhishma for what he had done to Amba but softened when she realized he was sorrier than he could bear, especially since he was unable to make amends. But as Ganga says, 'She (Amba) may have been wronged but by choosing to carry nothing but hatred and anger in her heart, she has wronged herself even more.' Having failed to dissuade Amba from her chosen path, Ganga gathered together the remains of the poor girl after she had relegated her body to the flames along with all the hopes, aspirations, dreams for a beautiful life that were lost and preserved them as a frozen river of placid beauty, a tributary of her own self. And when the thaw began, in the rush of that crystal cascade, the beautiful river Amba thrives between the glistening rocks, past the twisting path of tall trees in a merry dance of liberation, every one of her troubles forgotten and entirely at peace with herself.
Isn't that much better?

Don't forget to check out #MahabharataWithAnuja and Episode 3 for the tale of Amba, the wronged woman who became a man, and then so much more! 

That Serpentine Allure...

Indians tend to be strangely fixated upon snakes though most tend to piss their pants and run screaming in terror should they chance upon one in the wild. But there is a certain attraction to their fatal beauty and deadly grace. Which is probably why people insist on getting photographed with the poor creatures slung about their shoulders (after they have been de - fanged of course) while on holiday and throng to creature features starring Anacondas that wrap their muscular bodies around their hysterical prey all the better to asphyxiate them or swallowing them whole to be regurgitated later for the shrieking pleasure of the audience. Let us not forget the snake pits in zoo where adults and children point and howl at the slithering reptiles and the baby chick shaped bulge in their abs or those blockbuster movies and shows made about the infamous icchadari nagins popularized by Sridevi back in the day. Even Voldemort couldn't help but unleash the Basilisk or rely heavily on his beloved Nagina.

Janamejaya's great sarpa satra! 

Indian mythology is replete with tales of the fascinating Nagas or the snake people and the curious attraction and revulsion they evoked in people which led to some pretty devastating consequences for them. There is the story of the great serpent sacrifice performed by Janamejaya over the course of 12 years to avenge the death of his father Parikshit by the serrated fang of the serpent King Takshaka which nearly annihilated the serpent race. Then there is the one where Garuda who would eventually become the mount of Vishnu, the Protector was venerated while his half - brothers the snakes would be vilified and the former even receives a boon making snakes his natural prey.

Yet another tale features Ruru's  (a sage who was the descendant of Cyavana) intense dislike of the serpents and his vow to kill any that crossed his path. According to legend, Ruru was all set to marry the beautiful Pramadvara, who had won his heart when she was bitten by an ill - advised serpent just before their wedding. She lay in a swoon, life, youth and beauty being slowly leached from her being as death in the form of Yama drew ever closer. The unfortunate maiden was the daughter of Menaka, the apsara and Vishwavasu, the Gandharva King. Having been forsaken at birth, she was raised by the sage Sthulakesa. Distraught with grief, Ruru pleaded with the greater powers and agreed to give up a portion of his own lifespan to bring Pramadvara back to life. Vishwavasu and Menaka were so grief - stricken by the fate that had overtaken the daughter they had abandoned and moved by the sacrifice her beloved and betrothed meant to make, they interceded on Ruru's behalf with Yama and the God of death and dharma stayed his hand. Pramadvara came back to life having received a portion of Ruru's life essence and the duo were united in holy matrimony and were happy together.

But Ruru never forget the serpents who had nearly taken his wife away from him and he took the dreadful oath to slay every single Naga to cross his path. On one occasion, he came upon a snake belonging to the Dundubha species and raised him staff to strike it, though these snakes were known not to harm humans. The old snake appealed to him most piteously and Ruru stayed his hand briefly to explain the particulars pertaining to the oath he had taken.

The Dundubha listened but told him a tale of its own. In a former life, he had been Rishi Sahasrapat who had played a prank on his friend Kagama. While the latter was at worship, he had fashioned a serpent from blades of grass to frighten him. His friend had not been amused and cursed him to spend long years as a snake (Don't you hate it when people can't take a joke?). When Sahasrapat pleaded with his hot - headed friend, begging to be spared insisting that he had merely done his deed in jest, Kagama relented somewhat and said that he would be restored to his old form if Ruru, the son of Pramati and grandson of Cyavana were to show him mercy. Ruru relented on hearing this story and in gratitude, Sahasrapat having been restored to his original form, gave him some valuable advise in return. He said that the highest virtue a human being could aspire to was to save or spare the lives of others and this was the most sacred lesson bestowed by the Vedas. He then told him the story of Janamejaya's snake sacrifice and the King's decision to show mercy to the Nagas at the behest of Astika and the untold merit he accrued as a result. In this tactful manner, Sahasrapat convinced Ruru to set aside his vow and to leave the snakes alone.

I always remember this story every time I whack a cockroach or lizards with a broom, incinerate flies, mosquitoes with my electric bat, and crush ants with whatever heavy object I can find. It makes me feel a little bad but not enough to desist from crushing creepy - crawlies that insist on living rent - free in my home. Oh well!

Do check out my story of Janamejaya's great snake sacrifice in episode 1 of Mahabharata with Anuja.
You can also watch and re - watch the other episodes right here. 

In low spirits over the sale of liquor

I keep telling myself not to write long posts where I do little more than grouse and grumble over a bunch of things that bug the hell out of me. Something (my blog history) tells me I do that a lot, and whiny monkey is not the best of looks for me. And yet, despite trying to keep my itching fingers away from the keyboard for two whole days, it was inevitable that I caved. How in the name of all things holy and unholy did the government make the unbelievable decision to open liquor store outlets across the length and breadth of the country while the rest of the country languishes in this thrice damned lockdown? How? How? How? Also Why? Why? Why? And WTF?

According to some statistics I dredged up from the internet (which may or may not be 100% accurate) alcohol claims 2,60,000 lives every year, 29 people die every hour from excessive boozing and 712 people die every day as a direct result of swilling alcohol. Even if you stink at mathematical calculations and processing numerical data like yours truly it is still painfully obvious that Corona has nothing on these figures. And yet, the government in its infinite wisdom decides that is imperative that the good citizens be allowed to drink themselves to death and spread the damn virus which has us all in a vise – like grip with the numbers spiking every single day and the curve stubbornly refusing to flatten. Thank you very much, so – called representatives of the people, for the people and by the people!

Of course, if you take a look at the income generated by liquor sales for the government it become crystal clear. The internet was most obliging when it came to providing me with further stats for this post. Studies done in 2018, reveal that the government earns around Rs. 3.10 lakh crore from the sale of alcohol with the 29 states and union territories averaging sales worth Rs. 15,000 crores per month. So big bucks wins over paltry things like safety, ethics and doing the right thing. Every single time.

It is disgusting and all the memes flooding the internet over this god-awful situation doesn’t make it any less awful. With sales being broken and records being set over people’s alacrity in getting their hands on their favourite poison, I am cynical about the shutters coming down anytime soon. Or the booze – hounds and govt. giving a crap about the social – distancing norms that are supposed to be enforced. Sigh!

Perhaps the idea is to encourage people to stay sozzled and clueless about exactly how clueless those who run this country are. I mean they still haven’t made up their minds about whether the migrant workers should be allowed to go home or not, since the economy needs to be kick-started and business men/industrialists chaffing at the bit to begin normal operations cannot be denied much longer. What about the alarming increase in reported instances of physical, emotional, and domestic abuse directed against women, children and the elderly? Allowing these animals access to alcohol is certain to exacerbate the problem. And no, sharing pics of the women who lined up to buy liquor to shame and troll them across social media platforms does little more than draw attention to the rampant sexism ingrained in so many that leads to shameful #boislockerroom situations. Blame the bad habit not the gender of those who indulge in said habit.

I have nothing against people who enjoy the occasional tipple. To each their own.  But having studied addiction in all its terrifying glory all I can say is that it is not a laughing matter when so many make the decision to spend their life in an alcoholic haze, planning their every move to ensure the next fix, endangering the lives of near ones by giving in to violent tendencies because it is easy to blame the booze, driving under the influence knowing that the law enforcers don’t care until innocent people are actually killed and sometimes not even then, blowing up their life’s savings on drink and driving their families to miserable penury until they mercifully drop dead due to alcohol related complications. And no… putting up those irritating disclaimers in every single movie that hits the screens asserting that alcohol drinking is injurious to health and risks life and limb is just not going to cut it when the government remains committed to endangering the lives of its citizens by feeding their addiction in exchange for beaucoup bucks.

As responsible citizens, it is time we put our foot down and stopped patronizing the business interests of those who couldn’t care less about the collective well-being of this great nation and her people. Rather than splurge on booze, perhaps tipplers could use the money to buy meals for the less fortunate. Or swear off intoxicants altogether. That ought to show em!

Check out this article carried by Zee Media Bureau on the economics and statistics of liquor sales that prompted the govt. to encourage its citizens to turn to drink. 

This is not a rant...

Arjuna and Krishna rock! Absolutely nuts about this duo!

This is not a rant... But maybe it is. I love hearing back from viewers and readers. It is always lovely when people engage with you through their response to your art and it helps sustains the lonely artiste given to grappling with the solitude that is the result of spending too much time wandering around your own head. Unanimous love or hate for anything put up on the public sphere is rare and it is weird how the exact same things can provoke vehement, polar opposite reactions in individuals. For my series on Youtube, #MahabharataWithAnuja the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive and I am more thankful than can be adequately expressed. But of course there is bound to be criticism - constructive as well as the other icky kind.

Over the years it hasn't become any easier to deal with the bouquets or brickbats, vulgar dms and other mixed responses. Which is why sometimes, I put up a blog post and get it out of my system. A recent trend has been the resurgence in the popularity of Indian mythology. I am not complaining since I have written a few books in the genre and I am happy that so many love the ancient texts as much as I do. As a counter response, there has been a wave of bitter criticism against the misogyny, casteism, etc. which are admittedly present in mythology when viewed from a certain angle. The liberal left can be particularly vicious and unforgiving when it comes to anything that 'glorifies' Indian culture and tradition with the view to strengthen the so - called 'Hindutva' narrative that is supposedly being foisted on us. In other words, folks like me tend to get accused of being little more than foot soldiers in the Bhakt/Sanghi army (as someone, whose Hindi vocab is limited to a few words, I am not even sure what Sanghi means. I am pretty sure it has nothing to do with Ashwin Sanghi or does it?) and pandering to the whims of those who would try and rob India of its secular character.

To these people, all I can say is that India is a proudly secular nation and there is nothing wrong with her Hindu citizens being proud of and embracing their religious roots in the same manner as their brothers and sisters who worship other Gods. It is not done to attack the religious beliefs of those belonging to other faiths or calling out their God without proper context. In the same way, it is not okay to keep attacking Hindu Gods and accusing them and their worshipers of all manner of morally dubious conduct. It is definitely not done to call Rama a chauvinist and a cheater or accuse Krishna of womanizing and villainy. Seriously, please quit it. Every once in a while do make the attempt to recognize that other people's beliefs and feelings are every bit as important as your own. Pretty please!

As for the hot - headed right wingers, a blind belief in our glorious culcher and tradision without any nuance or proper understanding of the essence that may or may not be contained in our scriptures is foolish and dangerous when taken too far. There are certain evils like the caste system which have been deeply ingrained in the lore that has been passed down to us thanks to the vested interests of an elite few and it sucks that so many were and continue to be denied quality education and opportunities for advancement on the basis of their birth or gender. Please don't bother sending me lengthy comments or emails justifying such awful practices based on your personal take of the ancient texts. You are not going to convince me that only 'the deserving' ought to get an education or that the caste system has any merit. We ought to hang our heads down in shame for having failed to surgically extract it from our identity as Indians. But I will not stop dreaming of a future when no one in this country is required to own a community certificate. For it is a beautiful dream and one worth striving tirelessly towards to make it our collective reality.

Then there are those who call me out for my Arjuna bias. That is cool. But the thing is, I have never hidden the fact that I love Arjuna. Krishna is another favorite as well. I certainly am not blind to some of the unethical stunts they have both pulled but that does not mean I am ever going to like them less. It is fine to agree or disagree with someone about various aspects of a beloved epic like the Mahabharata and I have nothing against people who love Karna and Duryodhana. To each their own. However, it sucks when people point out a certain flaw in a beloved character, cherry pick ugly episodes and then use it as an opportunity to diss the great epics and all of Indian mythology while insisting that those who peddle these myths and sharing these dearly beloved stories are corrupting the youth, supporting sexism, perpetuating hatred, throwing in their lot with the jingoistic, fanatical brigade and the rest of that rigmarole. Please people! Be reasonable! Why insist on throwing out the baby with the bath water? And why hate those who do not subscribe to the same viewpoint as you do?

There, I am done with my rant which is not actually a rant right? I am merely pointing out the obvious. For those who feel I am being unnecessarily defensive, you may be right but I am extremely proud and protective of Indian mythology and no, I refuse to feel bad about it. Thank you for understanding. And if you don't, that is fine too... as long as you don't flood me with hate mail, or cuss me out in a dm.

P.S: Are you watching #MahabharataWithAnuja ? If you haven't watched it yet, please do check it out right here.  And be sure to tell me what you think! Even if it is to make your case for why you think I haven't a clue :) 

Marvelous Meenakshi Amman of Madurai

The husband was watching 'Storage Wars' the other day and I was grumbling as usual and asking what was so great about that show when the endless argument over who gets to wield the remote was interrupted by an ad for a show about Madurai Meenakshi Amman to be aired soon. It captured my interest at once since the promos were fantastic and it was obvious that a lot of love and attention to detail had been lavished on the project. More importantly, the temple is about a a few hundred hops, skips and jumps (or an hour and a half's drive to be precise) from where we live.

For all of us who live in 'Pandya Nadu', the temple has an especial significance. Apparently it was built as far back as the 1st century by Kulashekara Pandya after he was informed by the merchant, Dhananjaya that he had espied Shiva himself at Kadambavanam (Forest of Oaks) and witnessed the rest of the celestials worshiping him. Later, Shiva visited Kulashekara in a dream and gave him explicit instructions on building the temple and the city which would be called Madurai (after Shiva drenched it with the nectar of immortality or Madhu). And it was Indra, the king of heaven who installed the suyambhulinga he had discovered there in the sanctum sanctorum.

I have been visiting the Goddess ever since I was a child on innumerable occasions. What never fails to fascinate me is the abiding love folks have for Meenakshi Amman, the mother Goddess, former Queen and eternal guardian deity of Madurai. Millions throng to visit her throughout the year and not only during the famed festive season of Chithirai when the occasion of her marriage to Lord Shiva (Sundareshwarar) is celebrated with great fanfare over a period of ten days (Thirukalyanam). There is such a tangible bond between the Goddess and her devotees. I have even heard some of her ardent devotees casually saying that Amman will get upset if they don't go visit her often. There is so much affection in their voices and it is really sweet to note that they feel she is such an integral part of their lives and not merely a distant deity they feel compelled to worship.

Legend has it that King Malayadhvaja Pandya performed a sacrifice to obtain a son but was rewarded instead with three - year old Meenakshi who gave them quite the jolt, since she had three breasts. The King was less than overjoyed with this 'blessing' but a divine voice assured him that she would achieve things that no man  or immortal ever could and added that her extra breast would disappear when this jewel among women met the one she would give her heart to. The Princess was a mighty warrior and conquered the three worlds at the head of a great army. She made her way to Kailasha and defeated the butaganas led by Nandi when Shiva emerged to check out the cause of the disturbance in those lofty, serene heights. Meenakshi fell hard for the Destroyer and he reciprocated her feelings. The two decided to marry each other, making the sensible decision to make love not war!

It was a wedding for the ages when Shiva arrived in style to claim his gorgeous bride. Vishnu, gave her away as a good brother should and Brahma took over the officiating duties. All the celestials, noble sages and everybody who was anybody, including the somebodies and nobodies made sure they were present to witness this heavenly spectacle and it was a truly joyous event. The memory of this epic coming together of equals has been kept alive over the centuries with annual celebrations to mark the triumph of divine love.

The crowd which throngs to the temple for Thirukalyanam has always proved daunting for me as I have an unholy horror of being elbowed aside by folks with sweat - slicked arms, having my bare feet trod upon and being shoved and jostled while standing in lengthy queues that move at a snail's pace. I prefer to visit when the temple is not too crowded, so that I can walk around freely soaking in the spiritual ambiance, bask in the tranquil vibrations, pause to admire the brilliant architecture, study the interesting inscriptions at leisure and stuff my face with the yummy Prasadam sold within the precinct. The puliyogare (tamarind rice), vadai, appam, laddoo, murukku, sweet pongal are seriously delicious and served wrapped in fragrant banana leaves. The place is beautifully maintained and clean. The amount of care that has gone into its upkeep reveals how much historical, religious, cultural and sentimental significance the temple has not just for the denizens of Madurai but all who drop in regularly to pay their respects to Amman and her consort. After all, it must be hard for all who love the great Goddess to forget that in the distant past, their beloved Amman's residence had not been defended very effectively from marauding foreign invaders.

In the 14th century, Malik Kafur, Alauddin Khalji's infamous general swung by after plundering the fabled riches of the famous temple at Srirangam. Veera Pandyan, the then king had grabbed the throne from his half - brother, Sundar but only after intermittent fighting between them which had depleted his army and resources. Consequently, he was not really able to mount a decent defense against such a ruthless adversary. There are some versions, which claim that Veera Pandyan was advised to retreat to the hill fortress of Paramkunram and he did so without evacuating the city first or making arrangements to safeguard the treasures of Madurai.

For Kafur, it was a piece of cake to capture the abandoned city and help himself to the vast stores of wealth stored in the temples, pausing only to do as much damage as he could to the city, its temples and massacre those who had been left behind. Kafur ultimately came to a gruesome end when the men he had commanded to kill one of Alauddin Khalji's heirs - Mubarak Khan turned on him instead. Many attribute the fall of Kafur, the eunuch who had risen so rapidly to power and fell even faster, to the wrath of a vengeful Amman, whose residence he had desecrated with his many depredations.

Fortunately, restorative work on the temple was undertaken during the reign of the Nayakars with Thirumalai Nayakar proving to be a great benefactor. Later, during the British rule, there was further damage done to the temple but repair work was undertaken post Independence and many devotees made generous contributions to ensure that its former glory and splendor were fully restored.

There are many such beautiful stories and legends associated with this magnificent temple. Hope to revisit them asap. It is sobering to realize that no thanks to Coronasura, the Thirukalyanam will be impossible to celebrate with customary pomp and fanfare, for the first time in forever, this year. Even so, I am sure Amman's legion of devoted fans will not be deterred from celebrating their great love for her, in whatever small way they can. Or you could just tune into History TV18 and watch 'Meenakshi Ammanm, the Marvel of Madurai' at 8 pm, Monday, May 4th. Like I plan to!

Post - Corona Possibilities and Probabilities

Post Corona will our world regain its natural splendors?

I am no expert, but thanks to Corona, life will never be the same. Ever again. Or will it? Most of us have been holed up at home for an inordinately lengthy period. We have learned to appreciate the little things. Like the drumsticks growing in your mostly neglected vegetable patch. Precious jars of Nutella, the sweet grocery store guy kept aside for you, because your face fell when there weren’t any the last time you stopped by. Spouses and kids who help with household chores (and all it took was a little grumbling and a lot of persuasion, maybe even extortion when you threatened to dump their handheld devices in the compost pit near the veggie patch). Less demanding hours which you are free to fill with anything at all that captures your fancy. Even if it is doing nothing at all in particular. Because you can.

We appreciate the big things too. Like those who have gone out of their way to help those in need. Whether it is feeding stray dogs, using your fancy hotel’s kitchen to prepare and send out healthy meals for cops on duty, caring for the sick, or volunteering to make sure that essential items, staples reach the ones who need them the most. The fact that despite cynical predictions that India will be the worst hit during this crisis, thanks to quick thinking and judicious methods we are holding our heads above water at present. There is always the dreadful possibility that things could take a turn for the worse though. Besides life in India isn’t exactly amazing at the moment. The spectre of economic woes, unemployment, grinding poverty, starvation and mass death confronts us all. But even so, we are holding firm and we are doing it together. Even if we can't help but moan and groan or whinge and whine about how everybody else is being as stupid and useless as the government. 

Some of us are making resolutions about the beautiful, meaningful lives we are hopefully going to lead after the lockdown is lifted, while ignoring the voice in the head, truculently wondering if that will happen in the immediate future or at least in this century. A simpler, more old – fashioned lifestyle is called for we tell ourselves where we refrain from our consumerist excesses and boundless greed, even as we wonder if we should reduce our employees' salary or cancel the bonus. Perhaps we can buy a patch of land in those rural areas and take up farming, so we can be closer to nature. At the very least, we will no longer obsess over nail polish, lipstick or the perfect outfit guaranteed to make us Instagram worthy, or shell out hard – earned money on umpteen vacations around the world, so we can join queues at amusement parks or gaze at a monument in order to tweet about it.  Most of us have made a virtual pinkie promise with like-minded buddies, to always respect and care for Big Momma Nature. Perhaps we can even sit out the rat race for a bit and give something back to society because we were recently made aware of the fact that money amounts to squat if you aren’t going to be around to enjoy it. We intend to stick to these pure minded intentions. We do. For as long as the economy remains languishing in the doldrums and Coronasura stands poised with a club over our collective heads.

Will we learn? Or reduce our planet to a post apocalypse wasteland?

Too many among us are haunted by our fears though. Among other assorted worries. That this is just the prelude to an apocalypse from which there is no return unless we can mutate overnight into evolved beings with virus proof hides and invincible immune systems. That even if the improbable happens and life goes back to normal, we will revert to the old destructive ways. If not immediately, then shortly after. Polluting the environment and despoiling nature every which way we can. Buying stuff we don’t need and gorging relentlessly on the limited resources offered by the planet. And fighting with each other about everything from politics to religion and why my favourite celeb or God is superior to yours. Wait! Did we ever stop being this way? Is there hope for us to somehow metamorphose into half way decent human beings who will learn from the mistakes of the past and live right? Maybe. Maybe not.

An edited version of this piece was carried in The New Indian Express.

Lessons from a Pandemic: Quit Pressuring People into becoming Parents

Why pressure people into contributing to the population problem? 

Whenever possible, I try to watch a movie on Saturday night. Nowadays, a lot of time is spent in indecision as I wade through the countless choices, wishing I would just hurry up and make up my mind. Should I watch one of those award winning movies? This one is tricky. Highly feted movies like Parasite, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, Marriage Story, to name a few, are well worth the laurels heaped on them. But there is also the risk of watching criminally overrated garbage like The Shape of Water which has exquisite visuals and little else or something like the Irishman, adored by critics who are determined to like anything at all Scorcese makes but which turned out to be an extremely tedious saga about ageing bulls which put me right to sleep.  Horror is usually a safe choice but there are hardly any standouts in the genre. The latest releases throw up some interesting options and I enjoyed War and Ala Vaikunthapurramuloo recently, which is why I settled on Dharala 

Prabhu, the tamil remake of Vicky Donor as last night’s viewing choice with less than my usual indecisiveness.

Is Harish Kalyan TN's answer to Ayushman Khurrana and Vijay Deverakonda?

It is a lovely movie made by Krishna Marimuthu with dignity and a fine sensibility. Films on sensitive topics such as sperm donation rely on clumsy humour which is extremely cringe – inducing. But this film was refreshingly different. Aided by great performances from the promising Harish Kalyan, evergreen Sachu and Vivekh as well as the delightful Meera Janaki Krishnamurthy, the film goes about the business of telling a story with minimal fuss and fanfare while being hugely effective. It does weave in messages about how there is still so much stigma attached to non – traditional methods of childbearing, adoption and even squeezes in a same – sex couple, but without being preachy or self – righteous. All of this works beautifully.

But since, I was born a contrarian, I felt that a few more issues need to be addressed when it comes to these things. Dharala Prabhu is very sympathetic towards people who are desperate to have children and are hounded by practically everyone in their lives and of course, society at large for imagined failures in this department. Many childless couples are pressured into spending truckloads of money to somehow pop out the little ones via sperm donation, in – vitro fertilization, surrogacy etc. Of course, I sympathize too but isn’t it high time we eased up on the pressure, quit idealizing parenthood and pretending that babies magically fill our lives with love, happiness, fulfilment and meaning while erasing all cause for complaint, sadness or despair?

Let us be honest. Parenting is one of the most high – pressure jobs out there. Raising children takes its toll physically, mentally, emotionally and financially. As for babies themselves, it is true that some days are magical and your children light up your life. But in the interest of full disclosure, let me tell you that there are also many more days when your precious boos or moos are perfectly capable of being jerks not above throwing tantrums, engaging in emotional manipulation, being extremely demanding of your time, attention and rights to the remote, and fully capable of provoking you into tearing out entire chunks of your hair and running out into the streets towards the nearest Covid – 19 positive patient.  

Not everyone is cut out for this and if folks decide they are not suited to be parents and would rather do other things that don’t involve poop filled diapers, we should stop judging them and making them feel bad for their eco-friendly choice. And no, please don’t tell them ‘If your parents had been this selfish, self – indulgent and unwilling to wipe your nose and bum, you wouldn’t be here.’ As for those, who want to have kids but cannot for various reasons, it is imperative that we leave them alone and stop piling on the hurt even if it is inadvertent or well intentioned. The last thing such couples want is ‘friendly advise’ about the ideal temples to visit in order to be blessed with a bundle of joy, rituals to perform that are guaranteed to ‘cure’ childlessness, fertility doctors and treatments, ancient remedies and what have you. And do me a personal favour, STOP asking newlyweds if they have ‘sweet news’. A little sensitivity goes a long way folks.

Finally, as the second most populous nation in the world, Indians are all too familiar with the perils of population explosion. In fact, if the pandemic has taught us anything it is that social distancing is next to impossible in a country as thickly populated as ours with its history of unfair and unequal resource management. It is high time we re-examined our overzealous commitment towards faithfully contributing to the national as well as international population problem.

Condensed milk and Corona induced blues

‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going.’ Or so we have been told. My mum keeps telling me to watch my mouth, so I will refrain from cussing out the idiot who came up with that particular idiom. Probably one of those curmudgeonly football coaches during a particularly rousing pep talk where everyone in the immediate vicinity was sprayed with saliva as the grunting, heavily perspiring players were exhorted towards greater exertions. Anyways, I keep repeating the damn thing like a mantra, during rough patches, determined to forget that I am nowhere as tough as I would like to be.

Initially, I told myself to make the best of this lockdown. Work out twice a day. Master all the difficult yoga poses like the handstand, elbow stand (pincha mayurasana), crow pose (bakasana). Write every single day. Stay ahead of the chores. Learn something new – perhaps a new language or sign up for one of those online courses. Teach the kids something. Try and work on the vegetable patch which I have always been meaning to have (The drumstick tree is thriving and so are the curry leaves, in addition to my faithful cactus, so yay!) Practise my adavus, perfect my araimandi and blow my Guru’s mind, when dance class resumes. Stay as positive as possible given my naturally cynical bent of mind, try to limit the panic attacks to one a day in the privacy of my mind, etc.

The first two weeks weren't too bad. I was physically active and somewhat productive. I can do the handstand with wall support and can hold the crow for 5 seconds on good days. Nowadays, though, I spend a good chuck of my time trying to think up excuses to skip my work out, then settle for a quick half – hour session and spend most of it in the corpse pose (shavasana). On the writing front, I have managed to put up a few blog posts, though mostly I stare at a blank document and wonder why nobody has come up with an instant fix for writers block yet, before giving up.

As for the chores, I like to think there is a smoothly functioning system in place for getting things done with a degree of efficiency. Even as I kid myself, I can’t help but think it is too damn bad, I didn’t get a letter inviting me to join Hogwarts. It would have been fun to learn a few domestic spells and magic the drudgery away (among other things)! My brain and mind rebel every time, I try to urge both to sign up for an online course or attempt to learn a new language. Apparently both would rather go ‘tsk tsk’ over the trolling on Twitter, depressing newsfeeds determined to make us feel worse about the Corona situation or idly browse through pretty pics of celebs on Instagram who are positively glowing after 4 hour workouts,  guaranteed to make us feel even worse about ourselves.

I did do a few storytelling sessions with the children, taught them some simple recipes as well and harangued them into doing something besides plonking themselves on the couch to play games on the computer and watch the telly simultaneously. I even managed to dance a little, though it feels like wading through treacle on some days. And I did not get around to practising the adavus unless you count the two minutes when I rehearsed the Nattadavus with the kids. As for the araimandi, I quit before I even began, telling myself that the knees would grumble loudly in protest and I ought to protect them at all costs. 

Over the past few days, my energy levels have been dipping in earnest. I have a wicked case of the blues and it is hard to summon the will to get out of bed and do anything at all. The only reason, I managed to get through the daily routine today was because I was terrified that if I don’t, the dishes will pile up in the sink and eventually manage to break through the roof where they will join hands with the dust monsters to kill me. Even so, the temptation was strong to cower under the covers and tell the family to have cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Or whatever they find in the fridge. (As for me there is Nutella in my secret stash, but I left it there because I tormented myself with images of myself ballooning to grotesque proportions).

Thanks for the laughs Modern Family!

It wasn’t all bad though. I whipped up dessert, and comforted myself only with the leftover condensed milk, even as a bullying voice in my head informed me that the sugar demons are definitely going to get me before Corona does. And I watched the series finale of Modern Family. Like most formerly great shows, it seemed to have run out of steam a few seasons ago, but the finale was nevertheless worth a watch. A heartfelt end to a beloved show, it was particularly moving to watch it in these days of fear and unease, when so many of us are near and yet so far away from loved ones. 

One of the things that was great about the show was that it tackled so many sensitive subjects with warmth and humour, without being political or militantly woke. It has changed the way, so many people look at LGBTQ rights, same – sex marriage, adoption and immigrants. A reminder if any were needed that few things have the power of art to bring about change in this complicated world where for every step we take in the right direction, we inevitably take two backward. Which is also why I will always have more faith in art than people.

Comfort food in the time of Corona!

Long story short, it made me tear up a little and took some of the Corona – induced blues away with it. My spirits lifted a bit when it rained for a brief spell in the evening, before it ceased altogether and left the atmosphere so muggy, it felt like a sauna. Moving on, if the newsfeeds are to be believed, the lockdown with be extended to the end of this month. At the very least. The good news is I still have a few tins of condensed milk left. Ammunition against Coronasura! Hope you are all doing okayish? Let me know if you need anything… Unless it is condensed milk. 

Is the fight against Corona, jeopardizing our future?

Wish a superhero would show up and fix this already...

Most of us seldom have anything commendable to say about our elected leaders. And with good reason. It is almost as if being corrupt, ruthless, incompetent, ignorant, or downright criminal is the job description of a career politician. As voters, we are used to making the best of abysmal choices and we all fumble along, hoping against hope that a great leader will emerge out of nowhere to save us from all the things we need saving from. Or at least, not screw us over so badly that we are left unable to defend ourselves and safeguard our best interests.

Neither of these things seem to be happening as the world does battle with the Coronavirus and leaders of countries and states find themselves saddled with the task of dealing with an unprecedented crisis. There is sweeping condemnation for nearly all of them, no matter what they do or don’t. And I can’t help but be concerned about the fate of this nation and the world at large, which currently rests in the hands of those who haven’t given us much reason to trust or respect them.

All of us are running scared right now. The uncertainty and paucity of information is hard to take. The social and economic consequences of this complete shutdown of normal life is going to be long – lasting and possibly cause a lot more havoc than the virus itself. The initial data suggests that among those who have tested positive for Covid – 19 in the general population, the symptoms are mild and don’t require hospitalization. The more serious cases requiring intensive care, have mainly been seen among those above the age of sixty and higher. The fatalities have mostly been limited to the elderly and those suffering from chronic illness or compromised immune systems. Which is not to say the younger populace, under 30 years of age has remained unaffected or free from fatality. No doubt, the statistics will keep shifting and it will be months before a clearer picture emerges.

In the meantime, nearly all our resources are being expended on a confused, sporadic effort to contain the virus and flatten the curve without much thought being given to the efficacy of this approach or the collateral damage that is already taking a toll on the populace. The lockdown has crippled the entire workforce forcing thousands into an impoverished state left with no means to take care of themselves or their families. Forget access to a health care system that is certainly on the verge of being overwhelmed, many have been left without clean water, food, or a roof over their heads. How long can this pitiable state be allowed to continue? Even if this were to blow over, unemployment will be at an all-time high and small businesses may not recover. And let us not even begin to discuss the state of public morale after the staggering costs exacted by this catastrophe.

Hospitals have shut their outpatient departments and are focusing solely on this pandemic on government orders at the expense of those afflicted with far more life – threatening disorders and conditions since all surgeries and medical procedures barring emergencies have been deferred indefinitely. The plight of those diagnosed with cancer, HIV, renal failure and other diseases or disorders is worrisome as cops prowling the roads use any and all means to ensure that people do not leave their homes. Surely it is unconscionable to leave the sick and diseased not afflicted with Covid – 19 to get by as best as they can? What is the point of keeping some safe from Corona while leaving others to die or have irreparable damage done to their health by allowing serious ailments to go untreated?

The gnawing questions persist even as they send our anxiety soaring into the stratosphere. When will it be safe for us to leave our homes and return en masse to the workplace? Will schools be reopened soon? When will we identify the best treatment methods to beat this thing? How much time will it take to develop a vaccine? What about the costs we are inadvertently incurring both inside and outside the financial sphere? There are no answers available at present and I don’t think they will be forthcoming anytime soon. All we can do is hunker down and keep our fingers as well as toes crossed as we wait interminably for this thing to blow over, hopefully sooner rather than later.

As for the fight against Corona, it cannot be allowed to cause even more devastation than the virus is likely to cause. Therefore, it is to be hoped that our leaders, whatever their failures in the past may have been will redeem themselves by figuring out the best way to fight the virus and save those who are infected but not by putting the future of everyone else at risk. What we need are unlikely heroes, who will rise to the occasion and do battle with the forces of disease and despair, and deliver us safe and sound into a better future.

The silver lining in a cloudless summer sky

Look closely, squint a bit, summon your inner optimist, perhaps you just might spot the silver lining in a cloudless summer sky...

Summer is here. And it sucks worse than usual. Especially for us, Indians, who are placed uncomfortably close to the equator. I live in one of the hottest, driest places in the world. And believe me, when I say that after spending a single summer in Sivakasi, all the fire, brimstone, boiling vats of oil, rivers of lava, and the rest of the horrors of hell featuring extreme heat described in weighty religious tomes, fiery prophets and the poetry of Dante, will seem like a vacation in the snow clad Swiss Alps. I exaggerate not.

The heat is something else. You can cook eggs on any available service or even a fevered brow. Watermelon and tender coconut are sold at exorbitant rates and it is way too hot to bargain. All my plans to allow the excess fat to melt away in the heat, come to naught because I can’t walk past an ice cream shop without resisting the lure of a white chocolate and raspberry bar or a double scoop of the sinful palghova ice cream available at Puppy’s Bakery. Hence, though my mother refuses to buy it, the excessive heat of Sivadump is to blame for my weight issues (How is a girl supposed to survive the summer without ice cream and IPl damn it!). But there is worse…

Even those who are not as green – thumb challenged as I am, have trouble growing anything other than cacti, given the scarcity of water. ‘We need rain…’ we keep saying to each other unnecessarily, hoping Mother Nature or whoever is in charge of the weather will pay heed. Some brave the heat and crowds to visit temples and pray fervently for a few life-giving showers. I daresay, desperation drives a few to perform the rain dance which though it sounds improbable totally worked for Ted Mosby on How I Met Your Mother (If you haven’t watched the show, please do and then call me so we can crib together about the series finale which ruined the entire series.) But the brief showers are few and far away and invariably gives the impression of a medium – sized giant with a Urinary Tract Infection, pausing briefly above my town to take a reluctant piss only to change his mind and stop mid-stream.

This summer, I have been daydreaming uselessly about somehow meeting Tansen, (one of the nine gems in Akbar’s court who sang so beautifully and with so much command over the ragas, legend has it, he could actually light the oil lamps when he sang the Deepak raga) and begging him to teach me the Megh Malhar raga, so that I can summon clouds and rain at will. Wouldn’t that be swell? And why stop with rain… Perhaps I could learn to sing the blues away and heal the worst of injuries be they of the mind and spirit. It would be lovely to conjure up comfort with the power of your voice or soothe the hatred, pain and anger, simmering deep within the soul. Of course, I confess, it would also be cool if I could turn a few things to ash as well using that Deepak raga, like unwelcome intruders who have brought the entire world to its knees and then busted the kneecaps.

For all the non - existent people out there wondering about the extent to which I have succeeded in achieving my impossible daydream, allow me to inform you that Tansen saab hasn’t been very obliging so far, which hasn’t stopped me from belting out a few tunes with my painfully inadequate voice over the protests of husband dearest every once in a while. So there is hope. Or not.

Meanwhile, it is as hot as it always has been in these parts with every promise of becoming hotter still. With no sign of rain. But the silver lining in the cloudless summer sky is that it seems impossible that anything could thrive in this scorching weather. Not even a stubborn virus, or Coronasura as some refer to him (It is a him, of that I am certain!) So, perhaps there is hope after all.

How to Feel Lucky during a Lockdown

It is an understatement to say that not many people are feeling particularly lucky at this moment but the truth is we are all fortunate to live in this particular age. For those wondering if I am writing this from one of those exclusive wellness retreats in the middle of the Sahara frequented by Hollywood hotshots or merely because I have my head firmly lodged up my backside, you couldn’t be more wrong. Like everybody else, I am in lockdown mode, thanks to the damnable pandemic raging across the world. Reduced to missing the Before Corona era while trying to keep up with mounting household chores which eat into all the time everybody else seems to be spending on Netflixing or vegetating on their couches. And worrying about the economic fallout from all this has ensured that I am not in the best or brightest of moods.

Even so, I cannot help but think we have it relatively easy, especially if we were to take a stroll through the darker corridors of a disease – fraught past and witness the devastation caused by deadly epidemics and pandemics that changed the course of history. It must have sucked real bad to be afflicted with leprosy in the middle ages when it was believed that the victims were being punished by God for moral failings. Consequently, they were ostracised and left to rot in isolated colonies. Multiples outbreaks of the bubonic plague also known as the Black Death are believed to have routinely decimated one – third of the population across large swathes of Europe, Asia, Africa and Arabia.

Let us not forget small – pox which originated in Europe but wound up being carried to and ultimately annihilating almost the entire indigenous population in the New World. In India, we are all too familiar with the evils wrought by cholera across the years. Brought to our shores by British soldiers, millions have died and it is to our shame that it remains a dogged killer to this day given our inadequate treatment of sewage, irresponsible garbage disposal, practise of open defecation and lack of access to clean drinking water. In all these instances, the sick seldom had access to decent medical care, were stigmatized and left to die on the streets even as the corpses piled up and no one had the strength left to dig up mass graves.

The Coronavirus on the other hand has a significantly lower mortality rate. More importantly, thanks to cutting edge technology that allows us to communicate instantly and constantly with each other, it is possible to remain well – informed and on top of the situation. We can help one another with money, medical aid and other resources. Even the poor and unfortunate, left stranded when public transport was suspended can make their plight visible thanks to intrepid reporters and social media with the ensuing outcry forcing the government to act. If we can stay calm in the midst of the senseless panic, fear – mongering and conspiracy theorizing there is no reason why we can’t beat this thing. All it takes is sense, strict sanitary measures and a willingness to refrain from blaming each other, Tablighi Jamaat, China or the government for our current predicament.

These are things we would do well to remember and feel grateful for in the middle of a lockdown, particularly when feeling somewhat cranky while knee – deep in dirty dishes and frustration. After all, it could have been so much worse. 

P.S: If my article has failed to make you feel lucky or even a little less lousy about the lockdown, I don’t blame you in the least. 

An edited version of this article was published in The New Indian Express.