My friend, patient and reader of my blog, Dip Ghosh dropped in to see me the other day. He made a chance remark as to why I write so much on matters concerning the evening of one’s life? This made me laugh and also had me thinking. What is my contact with young people and their lives? [morning of life], except when they come to see me as patients. What I know and hear about their lives is so far removed from my own that writing about it can only be second hand. I am also not well qualified to write about young people even those whom I know. I don’t understand their craze for modern Gizmos, their spending spare time wandering and shopping in the glitzy malls, their way of eating out at fancy places paying unacceptably large sums of money on unacceptable food. When they come as patients I sometimes tell them but their attitude is one of bored listening to an old man who is out of tune with the modern world [this is true]
I have on the other hand firsthand experience of the evening of life. Many of my patients are old and in their sickness and other wise I understand them better. I often wonder how our own I consciousness wanes slowly as we age and becomes hazy because of lack of recognition by others. I am I because others see me as I. When others see me as one who is on his way out, this recognition and feeling of real or contrived importance recedes. But does it die entirely? Sadly it will not and the recognition of its lessening importance is occasionally galling to the ego. When does it do and what happens to it? The development of I consciousness begins early in life when the child begins to understand the body limitations and begins to develop and understand language. The skin cover of the body tells the brain the limitation of the body in relation to the exterior and the senses tell the brain who it is visa vi the external environment. But for all this there must be original something to develop. This is I. When I die what happens this my I? Is it kept in suspended animation? Does it have some sort of structure that we don’t know of? Does it consist of some special form of intelligence which doesn’t need senses to be appreciated? I have no answers to these questions.
The belief that this I consciousness is transferable after death gives some meaning to existence. But truth eludes us and the proliferation of God men and women is a proof to this quest to know. Some glimpse of understanding will come to you if you read the book,’my stroke of insight’
Like it sometime happens, I begin with something and end up with something else . This week end happens to be one of those where in I have been having these recurring thoughts and felt that I should share some of them with you.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Little Green Barbet
Eleven years ago I did a study with the help of an expert bird watcher, of the birds that are found in and around our golf course. Recently I was asked to do so again. This time however I needed no expert and I know by heart, sound [call] and sight and flight the number of birds that still survive and thrive. There are still 40 varieties of them seen in the last one year out of the 50 odd that were listed ten years ago. Some have disappeared and the numbers of many has come down drastically [Rosy Pastor]. Some however continue to thrive like the common Myna and the Crow both the house and the jungle.
But what drew my attention was the surprise missing of Little Green Barbet seen in such profusion now but not mentioned at all in that list made ten years ago. How can this be? We, or at least not the expert who was with me [refer: birds and others, Sunday, Nov 25, 2007] could have missed seeing this bird or at least listening to his call?
Some time ago I wrote about sighting and listening to the call of the Red vented bulbul in my backyard. Any time a new species arrives and thrives in new ecological environs, it lifts me out my gloom. The profuse sighting of the green barbet in recent years is one such event. This bird which is smaller than a Mina is colored green with rufus and white mixed front and a beak with bristles. Its flight is like an arrow shot from a bow. The call is a staccato cuttroo cutroo repeated over and over. Perhaps this is one of the early callers in the morning that wakes you from your slumber. I have often wondered how such a small bird can produce such a loud sound.
From the tenth green we walk to the eleventh Tee box and next to this path there stands a dead tree awaiting the axe. The trunk of the tree abruptly divides into three branches. At this cleavage is located the circular entrance of a Barbet’s nest. It is so well located; one can only see it from one angle. All others are hidden out of sight. What is even amazing is that despite the almost continuous walk of golfers within a few feet of the tree, the bird has managed to dig a hole for its nest. How is it possible? One day I took up a position and watched. Between one batch of four golfers leaving the putting area [green] and another batch coming there is an interval of ten minutes. That is when I saw the birds do their job of nest building, cleaning, feeding and what else. Remarkable is not it?
I did observe one pair of Sand Pipers coming into the course every summer and they still do after ten years. Are they same? I wonder. I used to see Rosy Pastors, Yellow wagtails and Wood Mynas in their hundreds, but I see a measly few now. All around the course there is so called development [concrete jungle] How much time before they convert the golf course which is the only refuge for these birds into some government sponsored monstrocity?
But what drew my attention was the surprise missing of Little Green Barbet seen in such profusion now but not mentioned at all in that list made ten years ago. How can this be? We, or at least not the expert who was with me [refer: birds and others, Sunday, Nov 25, 2007] could have missed seeing this bird or at least listening to his call?
Some time ago I wrote about sighting and listening to the call of the Red vented bulbul in my backyard. Any time a new species arrives and thrives in new ecological environs, it lifts me out my gloom. The profuse sighting of the green barbet in recent years is one such event. This bird which is smaller than a Mina is colored green with rufus and white mixed front and a beak with bristles. Its flight is like an arrow shot from a bow. The call is a staccato cuttroo cutroo repeated over and over. Perhaps this is one of the early callers in the morning that wakes you from your slumber. I have often wondered how such a small bird can produce such a loud sound.
From the tenth green we walk to the eleventh Tee box and next to this path there stands a dead tree awaiting the axe. The trunk of the tree abruptly divides into three branches. At this cleavage is located the circular entrance of a Barbet’s nest. It is so well located; one can only see it from one angle. All others are hidden out of sight. What is even amazing is that despite the almost continuous walk of golfers within a few feet of the tree, the bird has managed to dig a hole for its nest. How is it possible? One day I took up a position and watched. Between one batch of four golfers leaving the putting area [green] and another batch coming there is an interval of ten minutes. That is when I saw the birds do their job of nest building, cleaning, feeding and what else. Remarkable is not it?
I did observe one pair of Sand Pipers coming into the course every summer and they still do after ten years. Are they same? I wonder. I used to see Rosy Pastors, Yellow wagtails and Wood Mynas in their hundreds, but I see a measly few now. All around the course there is so called development [concrete jungle] How much time before they convert the golf course which is the only refuge for these birds into some government sponsored monstrocity?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Golfing woes
Mr S is a fellow golfer and also my patient. He took to golf when he was past fifty and I have been observing his progress [or regress?] since then. Even when he began he was not very good, as it often happens when you take up a new sport at that age. Except for the walking that is involved in golf and swinging the club attempting to hit the golf ball squarely, he does no other exercise and as he has grown older his never very good golf swing has become shorter and stiffer. This is because he finds it difficult to turn his body fully and shift weight from one leg to the other. Though this is the lot of most of us ageing golfers and most of us have come to accept this as another aspect of ageing process and still continue to enjoy the game [more observant amongst my readers may have noticed that my handicap has gone up from 15 to 18].
This is not so with S. He cannot accept that his bad golf is because of his age and stiffness. He came to see me the other day and his opening remark was, ’Doc,’ I am giving up golf’. I kept quiet. On many a bad day I too have felt like doing so, but have gone back to play. The infernal game is like that. No other physical activity [with the possible exception of sex] is as addictive and frustrating as golf. ‘ I am not able to strike the ball, and when I do it, it is a slice [the ball taking of to the right in an ugly arc], I have become abusive and ill tempered, no caddy is prepared to carry my bag, my partners barely tolerate me and when I go home, I am so irritable that wife doesn’t even want to speak with me’ he stopped.
He sat quiet staring at me. I can understand the turmoil he was going through. Golf is one game where maximum consultations are done with sport Psychologists and in their absence my friend has found me to help him. I know that telling him that he has become old and it is natural that his game will deteriorate will only depress him more.
‘What you want me to do’ I asked him.
‘Give me something that will make me less irritable, I don’t want to lose my temper on the golf course’ he said. ‘But then, how will it improve your swing? Have you gone and seen the club’s pro?’ I asked him. ‘Yes I did. Took two lessons, He wanted to correct my twenty years swing, impossible at my age, it was a bloody waste of money’ he said.
Any way you have decided to give up golf, why then you need medication to quieten you’? I asked. I want to give it a last try, He said. I gave him a prescription for a minor anti anxiety drug to be taken half an hour before the start of the game. I also told him it might cause some drowsiness. He took the prescription and left.
Couple of weeks later I met with him on the golf course and asked him about his golf. He said, ’I am much better, I have stopped using my driver, 3 wood and long irons[ less forgiving of the 14 clubs a golfer is allowed to carry] and my slice is now much less though my handicap remains the same’. ‘How is your temper?’ I asked him. ‘I am paying my caddy twice the amount so that he can put up with me’ he replied. This meant he was bribing the caddy to accept his short temper [I will tell the caddy’s version in another story]. ‘So the medicine is working’ I asked. Yes, he said but not while playing golf, I take it at night with my evening drink, doc let me tell you I never had a better cocktail, I have never slept this well, you should recommend this to your other patients’ he said.
This is not so with S. He cannot accept that his bad golf is because of his age and stiffness. He came to see me the other day and his opening remark was, ’Doc,’ I am giving up golf’. I kept quiet. On many a bad day I too have felt like doing so, but have gone back to play. The infernal game is like that. No other physical activity [with the possible exception of sex] is as addictive and frustrating as golf. ‘ I am not able to strike the ball, and when I do it, it is a slice [the ball taking of to the right in an ugly arc], I have become abusive and ill tempered, no caddy is prepared to carry my bag, my partners barely tolerate me and when I go home, I am so irritable that wife doesn’t even want to speak with me’ he stopped.
He sat quiet staring at me. I can understand the turmoil he was going through. Golf is one game where maximum consultations are done with sport Psychologists and in their absence my friend has found me to help him. I know that telling him that he has become old and it is natural that his game will deteriorate will only depress him more.
‘What you want me to do’ I asked him.
‘Give me something that will make me less irritable, I don’t want to lose my temper on the golf course’ he said. ‘But then, how will it improve your swing? Have you gone and seen the club’s pro?’ I asked him. ‘Yes I did. Took two lessons, He wanted to correct my twenty years swing, impossible at my age, it was a bloody waste of money’ he said.
Any way you have decided to give up golf, why then you need medication to quieten you’? I asked. I want to give it a last try, He said. I gave him a prescription for a minor anti anxiety drug to be taken half an hour before the start of the game. I also told him it might cause some drowsiness. He took the prescription and left.
Couple of weeks later I met with him on the golf course and asked him about his golf. He said, ’I am much better, I have stopped using my driver, 3 wood and long irons[ less forgiving of the 14 clubs a golfer is allowed to carry] and my slice is now much less though my handicap remains the same’. ‘How is your temper?’ I asked him. ‘I am paying my caddy twice the amount so that he can put up with me’ he replied. This meant he was bribing the caddy to accept his short temper [I will tell the caddy’s version in another story]. ‘So the medicine is working’ I asked. Yes, he said but not while playing golf, I take it at night with my evening drink, doc let me tell you I never had a better cocktail, I have never slept this well, you should recommend this to your other patients’ he said.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Demand from the drunks
The Citizens of the city of Bangalore are now in the throes of selecting their ward representatives [carporators] who will administer the city for the next five years. This time over there are two hundred of them. Normally one would expect the contestants to be educated with a flair for social service with administrative ability and leadership qualities. Going by the newspaper reports and what I have seen and heard these candidates on TV, a large percentage of them appear to be slum lords, gangsters and extortionists, undercover dons who have come over ground only to contest the elections. Many of them have the additional qualification of being school drop outs. Their sole qualification in getting nomination from the major political parties is winnabllity.
Most are locally well known in their respective wards not for any acts of gallantry or for social work, but because of creating nuisance such as extorting, creating ruckus during festivals and taking out processions, boot legging and it should come as no surprise that many are rowdy sheeters registered with the local police stations. But they all have one additional qualification, that is money. This enables them to hire unemployed youth from the slums and shanty towns of the city where majority of voters live for doing election work. One TV channel showed these young men having a good time after the day’s electioneering, sitting in happy groups drinking and dancing. The electioneering involves visiting the voters with hands folded during day time and clandestine visits during the evenings to distribute goodies like clothing, kitchen utensils, cash and the prince of all gifts, alcohol.
Hooch is the term commonly used for illicit liquor sold without license. This city is in love with alcohol. Many years ago when prohibition was introduced [driven down the throats of people] all over the country, Bangalore was the only city that was spared. This city has many legacies left over by our erstwhile masters, the Britishers. One of them is the habit of drinking. Depending on affordability and class, there are three types of drinking men [and women]. The first are economically well off who drink the high end of spirits [scotch and other imported stuff], the second are the not so well off who drink what is called IMFL [Indian made foreign liquor] and the last are the weaker sections who drink the cheapest available that includes illicit alcohol. It is not uncommon to see many dying after consuming this illicit brew contaminated with methyl alcohol. But across the board we Bangaloreans love our drink and come election time we give free vent to this love of ours.
Alcohol users form the majority of voting public, and this time they have put forth their own demands to the prospective candidates. Stop making impossible promises like providing nonstop water, electricity, clearing the clogged drains and the like and work towards meeting the following demands.
Provide shelters near liquor shops where inebriated persons can spend the nights instead of on the footpaths and roadside as it is done now.
In case one was to be found sleeping off in the above unacceptable areas, see that they are not disturbed by the police and the good Samaritans who pass by. This applies to street dogs also.
When we are zigzagging our way back home late at night, passing vehicles must slow down and allow us to go our way. We should have the right of way and not these crazy drivers. Policemen should leave us alone and not drag us to the police station and disturb our sleep and pleasure.
Wives are a major problem. They don’t seem to understand the importance of alcohol in our lives. They scream and shout at us when all we want is to get our well earned sleep. Often we are made to sleep on the door steps of our own homes. This must stop.
Last but not the least; we are the major revenue earners for the government. Excise levy on liquor forms 40% of the state’s revenue. It is therefore the duty of all the future carporators to work to reduce the duty on liquor and all of us then can afford to drink quality liquor and need not risk our lives drinking illicit hooch.
Most are locally well known in their respective wards not for any acts of gallantry or for social work, but because of creating nuisance such as extorting, creating ruckus during festivals and taking out processions, boot legging and it should come as no surprise that many are rowdy sheeters registered with the local police stations. But they all have one additional qualification, that is money. This enables them to hire unemployed youth from the slums and shanty towns of the city where majority of voters live for doing election work. One TV channel showed these young men having a good time after the day’s electioneering, sitting in happy groups drinking and dancing. The electioneering involves visiting the voters with hands folded during day time and clandestine visits during the evenings to distribute goodies like clothing, kitchen utensils, cash and the prince of all gifts, alcohol.
Hooch is the term commonly used for illicit liquor sold without license. This city is in love with alcohol. Many years ago when prohibition was introduced [driven down the throats of people] all over the country, Bangalore was the only city that was spared. This city has many legacies left over by our erstwhile masters, the Britishers. One of them is the habit of drinking. Depending on affordability and class, there are three types of drinking men [and women]. The first are economically well off who drink the high end of spirits [scotch and other imported stuff], the second are the not so well off who drink what is called IMFL [Indian made foreign liquor] and the last are the weaker sections who drink the cheapest available that includes illicit alcohol. It is not uncommon to see many dying after consuming this illicit brew contaminated with methyl alcohol. But across the board we Bangaloreans love our drink and come election time we give free vent to this love of ours.
Alcohol users form the majority of voting public, and this time they have put forth their own demands to the prospective candidates. Stop making impossible promises like providing nonstop water, electricity, clearing the clogged drains and the like and work towards meeting the following demands.
Provide shelters near liquor shops where inebriated persons can spend the nights instead of on the footpaths and roadside as it is done now.
In case one was to be found sleeping off in the above unacceptable areas, see that they are not disturbed by the police and the good Samaritans who pass by. This applies to street dogs also.
When we are zigzagging our way back home late at night, passing vehicles must slow down and allow us to go our way. We should have the right of way and not these crazy drivers. Policemen should leave us alone and not drag us to the police station and disturb our sleep and pleasure.
Wives are a major problem. They don’t seem to understand the importance of alcohol in our lives. They scream and shout at us when all we want is to get our well earned sleep. Often we are made to sleep on the door steps of our own homes. This must stop.
Last but not the least; we are the major revenue earners for the government. Excise levy on liquor forms 40% of the state’s revenue. It is therefore the duty of all the future carporators to work to reduce the duty on liquor and all of us then can afford to drink quality liquor and need not risk our lives drinking illicit hooch.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Maya's garlands
Indians are immune to the news, both visual and written, giving details of corruption in public life. If there is one single reason why we have progressed much less than what we could have, is because of this. I have written on several occasions on this and how we have come to accept and even appreciate the corrupt.
The latest is the felicitation ceremony of the corrupt politician queen, madam Mayavati. This scion and savior of Dalits [name given to the socially and economically backward section of Indians] is ruling the largest and the most populous state of the union called Utter Pradesh. On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the birth of her party, she was profusely garlanded by her party men [sycophants].The garlands were made up of currency notes of 1000rupee denomination. The garlands were huge and were engulfing the diminutive Mayavati and they [garlands] had to be supported by her faithful. Was there any sense of shame or remorse on her face? No fears. There was a glow of great pleasure. Obviously there is no need to account for this money that must have come by some sort of coercion, when it is collected by politicians. There was an interesting TV discussion on this question of acceptance of money in this manner and one of the participants defended her saying that she has the guts to do it openly in contrast o others who do it under hand!
God save this country.
The latest is the felicitation ceremony of the corrupt politician queen, madam Mayavati. This scion and savior of Dalits [name given to the socially and economically backward section of Indians] is ruling the largest and the most populous state of the union called Utter Pradesh. On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the birth of her party, she was profusely garlanded by her party men [sycophants].The garlands were made up of currency notes of 1000rupee denomination. The garlands were huge and were engulfing the diminutive Mayavati and they [garlands] had to be supported by her faithful. Was there any sense of shame or remorse on her face? No fears. There was a glow of great pleasure. Obviously there is no need to account for this money that must have come by some sort of coercion, when it is collected by politicians. There was an interesting TV discussion on this question of acceptance of money in this manner and one of the participants defended her saying that she has the guts to do it openly in contrast o others who do it under hand!
God save this country.
IPL 3
The slam bang cricket jamboree that goes by the name of 20/20 [twenty twenty cricket] is back to haunt the likes of me. For the next two months there will be no other news or sports show on our TV channels and I have no option but to watch it. Having said I prefer the longer version of the game, I am not averse to watching it. But the kind of entertainment this provides is aesthetically less satisfying compared to the game played in other formats. But that is not the younger generation thinks and feels. The stadia are full of young people watching [if you call making lewd noise as watching]. The viewer is bombarded with commercial clips not only at thee end of the over but even between balls!. Commercial interests have completely taken over this game and we are witnessing the death of real cricket.
Most of the viewing and paying public is young. This generation has grown up in a frenzy of change. They are used to loud sounds, lewd language, explicit sex, no leisure, traffic snarls, violence in real life and on the screens, corrupt private and public life and the IPL in its third successful season, reflects all this. Sad but true.
Most of the viewing and paying public is young. This generation has grown up in a frenzy of change. They are used to loud sounds, lewd language, explicit sex, no leisure, traffic snarls, violence in real life and on the screens, corrupt private and public life and the IPL in its third successful season, reflects all this. Sad but true.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Demise of Hockey
Field Hockey is a delightful game to watch and a dangerous game to play. It involves speed, stick work, body feint and stamina. There was a time we were the uncrowned champions of this game and won successive gold medals till the early fifties. Then on till early sixties we shared the glory with another great hockey playing nation Pakistan. We were called,’ wizards with the stick’. Such was our domination. I remember as a college student going to watch hockey matches to packed audiences. There was a lot of enthusiasm amongst the watching public and more number of youngsters would play this game. If I remember right our Leander Pais’s father Vace Pais was an ace player who played for the country. The decline began in the late sixties and never really has recovered as evidenced by the recent drubbings the team received from Australians and Spaniards [at the time of writing].
The question that comes to one’s mind how and why this has happened? My own guess is because of two reasons. One is that the other nations took up to this game in right earnest and prospered. The other is that we let the game take a back seat and allowed Cricket to take over. No youngster wants to be hockey star, they all want o become Tendulkars. So the base pool of players has dried up. It is often said that Europeans win because of their better physique and speed. This is no argument to defend our poor performance. A sardar youngster is as big built as any European and our tribal boys from Jharkhand are speedier than the Europeans.
The only way to avoid being the last ranked among the playing nations is to give Hockey the status and money. The talent will automatically follow because we are natural to this game.
I hope I will live long enough to see that day when India again becomes a top hockey playing nation.
The question that comes to one’s mind how and why this has happened? My own guess is because of two reasons. One is that the other nations took up to this game in right earnest and prospered. The other is that we let the game take a back seat and allowed Cricket to take over. No youngster wants to be hockey star, they all want o become Tendulkars. So the base pool of players has dried up. It is often said that Europeans win because of their better physique and speed. This is no argument to defend our poor performance. A sardar youngster is as big built as any European and our tribal boys from Jharkhand are speedier than the Europeans.
The only way to avoid being the last ranked among the playing nations is to give Hockey the status and money. The talent will automatically follow because we are natural to this game.
I hope I will live long enough to see that day when India again becomes a top hockey playing nation.
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