Two young men in the prime of their lives hung from trees, not far from each other. Their deaths were inter-related, but in total contrast to each other. One of these young men was a 33 year old from Nazareth, called Jesus. The other was Judas Iscariot.
Christians believe that Jesus died voluntarily on the Cross, for the forgiveness of sins and the salvation of the human race. Judas was one of Jesus’ disciples. He was infact the treasurer of the motley group. He had seen Jesus giving hope, healing and forgiveness, even to drunkards and prostitutes. He had heard the parable of the Prodigal Son, the classic case of forgiveness and being welcomed home. Even when Jesus was dying on the Cross, Judas heard him cry out, “Father forgive them, they know not what they do”.
There was therefore no apparent reason for Judas to commit suicide, post Jesus’ crucifixion. Why did he take this extreme step? Behavioural scientists have no cogent explanation for the most notorious case of suicide in human history. Because the answer is spiritual, not psychological or sociological. It was a case of despairing of divine mercy and forgiveness, and an act of free will. In India we are so heavily indoctrinated by karma and kismet that we find it difficult to accept that each human being has a free will, to do as one chooses.
There will be many extraneous or external factors that influence human behaviour. But ultimately it is the individual human being that takes the call. It is a factor that modern society chooses to ignore, at its peril. If we do not know the purpose and meaning of life, then it is a natural corollary to end a meaningless existence. That is what happened to the famous French existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Satre. He eventually committed suicide, for he had not found the fundamental answer to his own existence! Despair is what leads one to suicide, be it Marylyn Monroe or Rouvanjit Rawla; be it a case of forlorn love, financial problems or terminal sickness. The moment we say “I give up”, the game is over.
The antidote for despair is hope. This is a spiritual gift, but it can also be acquired psychologically by autosuggestion or external influence. How can we give hope to society and to individuals? It is here that parents, educationists, religious and community leaders have a vital role to play. What image do they project? What message do they convey? What values do they cherish? Pressing this point would sound preachy, so I will leave it at that.
Behavioural scientists tend to explain away every act as caused by something else; and the media indulges in the blame game. How many columnists or talk show hosts have the time and grist to probe deeply into the root causes of human behaviour? It is so much easier, and unprincipled, to simply blame the Principal or the ubiquitous cane!
I have been reading two best-sellers. The first is “Freakonomics – The Hidden Side of Everything” by Steven Levitt. The other is “The Tipping Point – How little things can make a big difference” by Malcolm Gladwell. Both have attempted to analyse modern human behaviour, one with economic parameters and the other with sociological ones.
Levitt claims that “Morality represents the way that people would like the world to work, whereas economics represents how it actually works”. He also says that “incentives are the corner stone of modern life”, and “dramatic effects often have distant, even subtle causes”. He further observes that Adam Smith, the founder of classical economics, was essentially a philosopher. He strove to be a moralist and ended up as an economist. His book, written in 1759 was titled “The Theory of Moral Sentiments”.
Gladwell develops the theory of the Tipping Point, a factor that literally tips the scale. What factors affect the equilibrium to cause the tipping? He claims that “ideas, products, messages and behaviour spread like a virus – contagious”. He agrees with Levitt when he says that “little changes have big effects”. But he differs when he claims that “Change occurs in a dramatic moment”. He calls this the Tipping Point. He further states that “the effect seems far out of proportion to the cause”.
Levitt and Smith would therefore have us believe that morality and economics are inter-linked; though in modern society economic incentives outweigh moral disincentives. This will help us understand the phenomenon of suicide. Though Levitt believes in subtle changes, Gladwell is inclined towards dramatic or sudden ones that influence human behaviour. Who is right? An analogy will help.
In a World Cup football match does a forward suddenly score a goal and tip the game in his own team’s favour? Or is the goal a careful build up from the defenders passing to the mid fielders, who split the opponent’s defence, create an opening, give a through pass, and the forward strikes the goal? Many of the moves would have been quite subtle, lest the other team saw through the game plan. So I would subscribe to Levitt’s view, that dramatic changes have distant and subtle causes. This has a direct bearing on human behaviour, and specifically on the “dramatic” act of suicide.
Unfortunately, in the blame game, we could simplistically and superficially observe that a “defence lapse” caused the goal, or an act of caning caused the suicide. Be it a goal or a suicide, there are several subtle moves and a gradual build up. Since parents have the maximum physical and psychological proximity to their children, it is primarily their responsibility to raise their children in a climate of love, trust and hope. If, for reasons beyond their control and understanding, they pick up signals of despair, depression or aloofness, then their parental antennae should twitch with concern. If they find themselves inadequate to the task they need to seek outside help from a professional or competent counsellor.
Gladwell has a case study on suicides. He found that the rate of suicides in Micronesia was 7 times that of the USA. It was a contagion there. “As suicide becomes more frequent the idea itself acquires a certain familiarity, if not fascination, to young men, and the lethality of the act seems to be trivialised. Especially among some younger boys, the suicide acts appear to have acquired an experimental, almost recreational element”.
Gladwell then quotes David Phillips, a sociologist at the University of California, saying that “Immediately after stories about suicides appeared, suicides in the area served by the newspaper jumped” Such a “contagion is neither rational nor necessarily conscious”. He gave another instance that “news coverage of suicides by self immolation in England in the 1970s prompted 82 suicides by self immolation the next year”.
The lessons need to be learnt. Over exposure of suicide cases in the media have a snowballing effect; so the media needs to exercise restraint in the larger interests of society. Moral responsibility must take precedence over economic benefits that accrue from sensationalising news.
On the other hand parents and guardians must be alert to the danger signals, be they distant, subdued or subtle. They are seldom blatant. Teachers or principals who notice something askance must convey their observations to the parents immediately. An elder once said, “There are no bad children, only bad parents”, so let us parents wake up before it is too late.
We have a choice – to be Jesus or Judas. We can either make sacrifices ourselves to help others; or blame everybody except ourselves, and just give up. We have our own free will. Let us exercise it responsibly, and save precious lives.
* The writer has for several years been involved in youth and family counselling.
Thursday 1 July 2010
WHO ARE THE REAL IDIOTS?
After “Lagaan” and “Taare Zameen Par”, Aamir Khan has done it again with “3 Idiots”. He has established himself as the most versatile contemporary actor. His latest blockbuster premiered on Christmas day, and some idiot raised a hullabaloo calling it an insult to Jesus. That idiot had obviously not seen the movie. Having just seen and enjoyed it, I would dare say that the movie is a perfect Christmas gift to the Christ child.
By the world’s standards Jesus was the biggest idiot of all time! How idiotic for the messiah to be born in a manger, among smelly cattle, acknowledged by a handful of lowly shepherds and worshipped by just three mysterious wise men. He shunned fame and fortune, not even accepting the accolades for his miracles; instead exhorting the beneficiaries to keep their mouths shut. He lived and preached an unorthodox way of life, breaking with traditions, saying, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mk 2:27). He had no worldly possessions, proclaiming that “Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head” (Lk 9:58). The only time that he faced a popularity contest (reality show), he lost to Barrabas, a notorious criminal. He died an ignominious death and was buried in a borrowed grave. What an idiot!
So what is the connection with the other 3 idiots? If we can go beyond the Bollywood hype and heroic antics, the movie has an important message about the educational system, parental expectations and student aspirations. It is a story of ruthless academics, where the winner, like the cuckoo, takes all. In the process it destroys the nest eggs of the others. It is a story where only the winner is remembered, not the other participants in the race. It is about the deep-rooted Indian aspiration: “Mera beta daktar ya inginyar banega, aur Amrika ya Kanada mein bahut paisa kamayega”. (My son will be a doctor/ engineer and will earn pots of money in America/ Canada). It tells of a value system where friendship loses out to competition. It is ultimately the tragedy of those who couldn’t make the grade, and then being driven to suicide.
Judas misunderstood Jesus and committed suicide. Two of my acquaintances killed themselves before running trains. Three of my son’s classmates, in different institutions, committed suicide. Ironically, Ali Fazal, the actor in “3 Idiots” who commits suicide in the movie, is also my son’s classmate from the prestigious St Xavier’s College, Mumbai. In my hometown, Kanpur, where the IIT is world famous, every now and then a student commits suicide. Recently 38 aspiring engineers in IITK have been told to quit because they can’t make the grade.
So what do these students do now? What do they tell their parents? Who repays the educational loan? Are they stigmatised for life? Or will they just opt to end their lives? These are questions that every parent, educationist, social activist or religious leader needs to address. If we don’t face these issues squarely we are indeed the biggest idiots.
It is a common parental aspiration to see their children make the grade. Since sarkari naukris have dried up, it is now the doctor/ engineer/ MBA syndrome that has infected society. In response, private colleges have mushroomed. What promises they make, what fees they charge and what standards they set, is anybody’s guess. Ambitious parents push their bespectacled and book laden tiny tots through the system. Winston Churchill had famously declared that World War II was won on the playing fields of Eton. He would have to eat his words in contemporary India, for most schools and colleges have no playing field! Hence, other than our national obsession with cricket, we have no world-class players. A population of over one billion goes gaga over one gold medal in 50 years of Olympic competition.
There is no level playing field in education either. Exceptions merely prove the rule, and the rule is that those who are good get better, and those who aren’t, are waste material. A 90 percenter becomes a 91.9 percenter, and it is considered a singular achievement. Real educational service would be if a failure could be encouraged to atleast matriculate or graduate.
Many years ago my wife and myself made a conscientious decision to opt out of the rat race. We sent our children to an ordinary Hindi medium Govt school. They never went for tuitions, except just before their board exams. Both emerged toppers and as socially aware human beings who are now looking at careers of their choice. Neither they, nor us parents, have rued our earlier decision.
I myself studied in the prestigious St Joseph’s College, Nainital, rubbing shoulders with the sons of royalty, diplomats and generals. We played all the outdoor and indoor games possible. We had special studies (and a very welcome special diet) just before our Senior Cambridge exams. Of my batch of 35, 6 went to the IITs, another 6 to the defence forces, 2 became commercial pilots, and 2 became doctors. I myself was always a mediocre student, who didn’t “become” anything classified above. I never topped in anything, but in the Senior Cambridge exam I was the topper in English Language among all the four prestigious boarding schools of Nainital. I still remember the essay that I wrote for that exam, entitled “A Triumphant Return”. Ironically, my class teacher, a rather severe Irish Brother, often ridiculed my essay writing. So who was the idiot?
In 1996 I had organised a reunion of my class of 1965. I had with me the mark sheet of my entire class. To my amazement I discovered that the marks we got in Senior Cambridge had little or no relevance to what we had achieved in later life. Of the 6 defence officers, the guy with the highest rank was at the bottom of the heap in school. The guy who became an allopathic doctor was the only one to have died before the reunion in 1996. And he who was last in class won a gold medal for India in the non-Olympic sport of power lifting. He is also the much loved and re-elected Member of Parliament from Nainital today. So who are the idiots?
All the stakeholders in education, including the Catholic Church, need to see the movie “3 Idiots”, and ask themselves what they are churning out - feelingless and spineless robots; or holistic, socially conscious and possibly intelligent human beings? Even the HRD Minister, and the CBSE Board are now seriously questioning the relevance of the current marking system, and the heavy load of books that tiny tots are toting to schools. Has the present educational system become a burden rather than a tool for growth and emancipation?
St Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, who prided themselves on their gnosis (knowledge), is a scathing indictment. “Where are the philosophers? Where are the experts? Where are the debaters of this age? Do you not see how God has shown up human wisdom as folly? … God’s folly is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. …. God chose those who by human standards are fools, to shame the wise; he chose those who by human standards are weak, to shame the strong” (1Cor 1: 20,25,27).
Indeed may God save us from those pseudo wisemen (idiots) like Dr Virus, so ably portrayed by Boman Irani in “3 Idiots”. I for one would rather go along with the practical wisdom and humaneness of Rancho, the idiot that Aamir portrayed. Hail the idiots!
* The writer is a college dropout.
By the world’s standards Jesus was the biggest idiot of all time! How idiotic for the messiah to be born in a manger, among smelly cattle, acknowledged by a handful of lowly shepherds and worshipped by just three mysterious wise men. He shunned fame and fortune, not even accepting the accolades for his miracles; instead exhorting the beneficiaries to keep their mouths shut. He lived and preached an unorthodox way of life, breaking with traditions, saying, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mk 2:27). He had no worldly possessions, proclaiming that “Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head” (Lk 9:58). The only time that he faced a popularity contest (reality show), he lost to Barrabas, a notorious criminal. He died an ignominious death and was buried in a borrowed grave. What an idiot!
So what is the connection with the other 3 idiots? If we can go beyond the Bollywood hype and heroic antics, the movie has an important message about the educational system, parental expectations and student aspirations. It is a story of ruthless academics, where the winner, like the cuckoo, takes all. In the process it destroys the nest eggs of the others. It is a story where only the winner is remembered, not the other participants in the race. It is about the deep-rooted Indian aspiration: “Mera beta daktar ya inginyar banega, aur Amrika ya Kanada mein bahut paisa kamayega”. (My son will be a doctor/ engineer and will earn pots of money in America/ Canada). It tells of a value system where friendship loses out to competition. It is ultimately the tragedy of those who couldn’t make the grade, and then being driven to suicide.
Judas misunderstood Jesus and committed suicide. Two of my acquaintances killed themselves before running trains. Three of my son’s classmates, in different institutions, committed suicide. Ironically, Ali Fazal, the actor in “3 Idiots” who commits suicide in the movie, is also my son’s classmate from the prestigious St Xavier’s College, Mumbai. In my hometown, Kanpur, where the IIT is world famous, every now and then a student commits suicide. Recently 38 aspiring engineers in IITK have been told to quit because they can’t make the grade.
So what do these students do now? What do they tell their parents? Who repays the educational loan? Are they stigmatised for life? Or will they just opt to end their lives? These are questions that every parent, educationist, social activist or religious leader needs to address. If we don’t face these issues squarely we are indeed the biggest idiots.
It is a common parental aspiration to see their children make the grade. Since sarkari naukris have dried up, it is now the doctor/ engineer/ MBA syndrome that has infected society. In response, private colleges have mushroomed. What promises they make, what fees they charge and what standards they set, is anybody’s guess. Ambitious parents push their bespectacled and book laden tiny tots through the system. Winston Churchill had famously declared that World War II was won on the playing fields of Eton. He would have to eat his words in contemporary India, for most schools and colleges have no playing field! Hence, other than our national obsession with cricket, we have no world-class players. A population of over one billion goes gaga over one gold medal in 50 years of Olympic competition.
There is no level playing field in education either. Exceptions merely prove the rule, and the rule is that those who are good get better, and those who aren’t, are waste material. A 90 percenter becomes a 91.9 percenter, and it is considered a singular achievement. Real educational service would be if a failure could be encouraged to atleast matriculate or graduate.
Many years ago my wife and myself made a conscientious decision to opt out of the rat race. We sent our children to an ordinary Hindi medium Govt school. They never went for tuitions, except just before their board exams. Both emerged toppers and as socially aware human beings who are now looking at careers of their choice. Neither they, nor us parents, have rued our earlier decision.
I myself studied in the prestigious St Joseph’s College, Nainital, rubbing shoulders with the sons of royalty, diplomats and generals. We played all the outdoor and indoor games possible. We had special studies (and a very welcome special diet) just before our Senior Cambridge exams. Of my batch of 35, 6 went to the IITs, another 6 to the defence forces, 2 became commercial pilots, and 2 became doctors. I myself was always a mediocre student, who didn’t “become” anything classified above. I never topped in anything, but in the Senior Cambridge exam I was the topper in English Language among all the four prestigious boarding schools of Nainital. I still remember the essay that I wrote for that exam, entitled “A Triumphant Return”. Ironically, my class teacher, a rather severe Irish Brother, often ridiculed my essay writing. So who was the idiot?
In 1996 I had organised a reunion of my class of 1965. I had with me the mark sheet of my entire class. To my amazement I discovered that the marks we got in Senior Cambridge had little or no relevance to what we had achieved in later life. Of the 6 defence officers, the guy with the highest rank was at the bottom of the heap in school. The guy who became an allopathic doctor was the only one to have died before the reunion in 1996. And he who was last in class won a gold medal for India in the non-Olympic sport of power lifting. He is also the much loved and re-elected Member of Parliament from Nainital today. So who are the idiots?
All the stakeholders in education, including the Catholic Church, need to see the movie “3 Idiots”, and ask themselves what they are churning out - feelingless and spineless robots; or holistic, socially conscious and possibly intelligent human beings? Even the HRD Minister, and the CBSE Board are now seriously questioning the relevance of the current marking system, and the heavy load of books that tiny tots are toting to schools. Has the present educational system become a burden rather than a tool for growth and emancipation?
St Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, who prided themselves on their gnosis (knowledge), is a scathing indictment. “Where are the philosophers? Where are the experts? Where are the debaters of this age? Do you not see how God has shown up human wisdom as folly? … God’s folly is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. …. God chose those who by human standards are fools, to shame the wise; he chose those who by human standards are weak, to shame the strong” (1Cor 1: 20,25,27).
Indeed may God save us from those pseudo wisemen (idiots) like Dr Virus, so ably portrayed by Boman Irani in “3 Idiots”. I for one would rather go along with the practical wisdom and humaneness of Rancho, the idiot that Aamir portrayed. Hail the idiots!
* The writer is a college dropout.
WHAT HAPPENED TO SODOM?
The Delhi High Court judgement on Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC) has opened up a Pandora’s Box of variegated opinions. The advocates of “gay pride”, a term of their own choice, are obviously gaga. The Central Government seems to be in a Catch 22 situation, not knowing whether to say yes or no to 377. Religious leaders of various persuasions have of course gone ballistic against the judgement, and one has already challenged it in the Supreme Court.
Baba Ramdev, who has progressed from being a yoga exponent, to an industrialist (a huge factory in Haridwar), media icon, social activist and political commentator; has termed the judgement an influence of “decadent western culture”. He considers homosexuality as foreign to Indian culture. Manoj Mitta (TOI 7/7/09) has tried to prove quite the contrary; that ancient India was tolerant and even encouraged homosexuality as evidenced in the Manusmriti and Kamasutra. I would refrain from commenting further on the so-called “Indian” approach. Not being qualified, I dare not broach the subject, even from the backside! Pardon the pun.
However, as an Indian Christian, I am concerned about “western decadence” that could obliquely refer to Christian morality. The irony is that it was a “decadent western culture” that motivated the British to incorporate section 377 in the IPC. But it is Indian litigants who agitated against it, and Indian judges pronounced the verdict. So how is western decadence to blame? This seems a throwback to the infamous “foreign hand” that Indira Gandhi used to great effect, for blaming everything that ailed India.
My purpose, here, is to present the Christian perspective. Homosexuality between males in often referred to as sodomy. What is the origin of this word? It comes from the town of Sodom, which existed somewhere near the Dead Sea, and was destroyed by God’s wrath about 2500 BC. Why did Sodom incur God’s wrath?
Abraham (Ibrahim) the chosen one of God (revered by Christians, Muslims and Jews) pleaded with God to spare Sodom if 10 righteous men were found there. His nephew Lot lived in Sodom and was visited by two angels. The men of Sodom wanted to have sex with these angelic men. Lot was horrified and shut the door of his house. He even offered two of his virgin daughters to the Sodomites, hoping that it would appease their sexual urge. But the Sodomites wanted the men only. It is then that God evacuated Lot and his family, and rained fire and brimstone on Sodom, destroying it completely.
This episode is from the Book of Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament of the Bible. The first five books of the Bible are called the Pentateuch. The Jews call it the Torah and the Muslims the Toreth. Among others, it contains the Ten Commandments given to Moses (Moosa) and the Mosaic Laws, as found in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. The Mosaic Law calls sodomy a “hateful thing” that is “punishable with death.” Later in the Old Testament we read of the Judaic Kings like Asa, Jehosaphat and Josiah taking strong action against sodomites and “sacred male prostitutes” even though the practice was acceptable in other contemporary societies.
The second part of the Bible, known as the New Testament, dates to the time of the Lord Jesus Christ. Several of Jesus’ apostles like Sts. Peter, Paul and Jude, in their epistles, continue to condemn sodomy and lesbianism in forthright terms – as being unnatural, perverted and inviting divine displeasure. However, Jesus himself, in his one reference to Sodom, says that the acts of Sodom are not as grave as the unbelief of the people of Capernaum. This is typical of Jesus’ approach to “sinners”. He does not condemn “public sinners” like prostitutes and drunkards. He is empathetic to them, and considers religious self-righteousness a graver act of moral decadence. He always condemned the “holier than thou” attitude of the Scribes and Pharisees of his time, calling them whitened sepulchres – white from outside, but decadence within.
Most religions cannot look beyond ancient traditions and their sacred scriptures. This is true of many Christians as well. However, the Catholic Church, to whom the majority of Christians owe allegiance, has been through a process of continuous updating - aggiornamento. Accordingly, the late Pope John Paul II promulgated the “Catechism of the Catholic Church” in 1992. It addressed many contemporary issues, including something like drunken driving, that obviously did not exist in Jesus’ time!
The Catechism upholds the traditional view that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered …contrary to the law of nature … under no circumstances can they be approved.” While this objective statement sounds harsh, it also expresses concern and empathy. It goes on to say that such persons “must be accepted with respect, compassion and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided.” It would seem that the Delhi High Court judgement has indeed taken a leaf out of the Catechism!
So the Catholic viewpoint is clear – it neither approves, nor condemns. Such an attitude should influence all of us Indians who tend to look down on the “other” – their habits, dress, food, language, customs, etc. We certainly need a more tolerant society, not just for homosexuals; lest we too, like the people pf Sodom, incur God’s wrath and are destroyed by “fire and brimstone”.
# The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union
JULY 2009
Baba Ramdev, who has progressed from being a yoga exponent, to an industrialist (a huge factory in Haridwar), media icon, social activist and political commentator; has termed the judgement an influence of “decadent western culture”. He considers homosexuality as foreign to Indian culture. Manoj Mitta (TOI 7/7/09) has tried to prove quite the contrary; that ancient India was tolerant and even encouraged homosexuality as evidenced in the Manusmriti and Kamasutra. I would refrain from commenting further on the so-called “Indian” approach. Not being qualified, I dare not broach the subject, even from the backside! Pardon the pun.
However, as an Indian Christian, I am concerned about “western decadence” that could obliquely refer to Christian morality. The irony is that it was a “decadent western culture” that motivated the British to incorporate section 377 in the IPC. But it is Indian litigants who agitated against it, and Indian judges pronounced the verdict. So how is western decadence to blame? This seems a throwback to the infamous “foreign hand” that Indira Gandhi used to great effect, for blaming everything that ailed India.
My purpose, here, is to present the Christian perspective. Homosexuality between males in often referred to as sodomy. What is the origin of this word? It comes from the town of Sodom, which existed somewhere near the Dead Sea, and was destroyed by God’s wrath about 2500 BC. Why did Sodom incur God’s wrath?
Abraham (Ibrahim) the chosen one of God (revered by Christians, Muslims and Jews) pleaded with God to spare Sodom if 10 righteous men were found there. His nephew Lot lived in Sodom and was visited by two angels. The men of Sodom wanted to have sex with these angelic men. Lot was horrified and shut the door of his house. He even offered two of his virgin daughters to the Sodomites, hoping that it would appease their sexual urge. But the Sodomites wanted the men only. It is then that God evacuated Lot and his family, and rained fire and brimstone on Sodom, destroying it completely.
This episode is from the Book of Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament of the Bible. The first five books of the Bible are called the Pentateuch. The Jews call it the Torah and the Muslims the Toreth. Among others, it contains the Ten Commandments given to Moses (Moosa) and the Mosaic Laws, as found in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. The Mosaic Law calls sodomy a “hateful thing” that is “punishable with death.” Later in the Old Testament we read of the Judaic Kings like Asa, Jehosaphat and Josiah taking strong action against sodomites and “sacred male prostitutes” even though the practice was acceptable in other contemporary societies.
The second part of the Bible, known as the New Testament, dates to the time of the Lord Jesus Christ. Several of Jesus’ apostles like Sts. Peter, Paul and Jude, in their epistles, continue to condemn sodomy and lesbianism in forthright terms – as being unnatural, perverted and inviting divine displeasure. However, Jesus himself, in his one reference to Sodom, says that the acts of Sodom are not as grave as the unbelief of the people of Capernaum. This is typical of Jesus’ approach to “sinners”. He does not condemn “public sinners” like prostitutes and drunkards. He is empathetic to them, and considers religious self-righteousness a graver act of moral decadence. He always condemned the “holier than thou” attitude of the Scribes and Pharisees of his time, calling them whitened sepulchres – white from outside, but decadence within.
Most religions cannot look beyond ancient traditions and their sacred scriptures. This is true of many Christians as well. However, the Catholic Church, to whom the majority of Christians owe allegiance, has been through a process of continuous updating - aggiornamento. Accordingly, the late Pope John Paul II promulgated the “Catechism of the Catholic Church” in 1992. It addressed many contemporary issues, including something like drunken driving, that obviously did not exist in Jesus’ time!
The Catechism upholds the traditional view that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered …contrary to the law of nature … under no circumstances can they be approved.” While this objective statement sounds harsh, it also expresses concern and empathy. It goes on to say that such persons “must be accepted with respect, compassion and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided.” It would seem that the Delhi High Court judgement has indeed taken a leaf out of the Catechism!
So the Catholic viewpoint is clear – it neither approves, nor condemns. Such an attitude should influence all of us Indians who tend to look down on the “other” – their habits, dress, food, language, customs, etc. We certainly need a more tolerant society, not just for homosexuals; lest we too, like the people pf Sodom, incur God’s wrath and are destroyed by “fire and brimstone”.
# The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union
JULY 2009
“THE NORONHAS IN NAINI”
The Sem Tattler (July – December 2008) has a query from Dr Bhuroze K Ghandhi (Milwaukee USA) about which family could stake a claim to having the longest association with SEM; and makes a guess that it could be the Noronhas, one of who had studied with him. Another contributor from England (name not mentioned) hazards a guess that the Allens family, of Indian Olympic hockey glory, had the longest run at SEM. But Ghandhi is probably right, for the honours should go to the Noronhas of Kanpur.
My late father, Chevalier Peter de Noronha KSG, CE (1897 –1970) passed out of SEM in 1916. He had simultaneously passed the Roorkee Civil Engineering exam, coming third in the All India merit list, and winning a scholarship. In the College Muster Roll of 1916 (as per the “Education Record 1916” of which I have a copy) his is listed as the second name among the boarders. I do not know for sure when he joined SEM, it could have been around 1909 – a hundred years ago! His younger brothers Willie (1899 – 1975) and Stanley (1901 – 1970) were also with him in SEM. From SEM he went on to the renowned Thomason College of Engineering at Roorkee (now IIT Roorkee) from where he did his Civil Engineering in 1918. Since it coincided with the First World War he was simultaneously commissioned into the King George’s Own Royal Sappers & Miners (now the Bombay Sappers).
The next generation of Noronhas all studied in SEM, and the girls in Ramnee. My eldest brother Douglas (deceased) was there in the late 1940s and early 1950s. My first cousins William, Terence (deceased) Johnny (died while duck shooting while still in SEM) and Errol were all there. Errol was College Captain in 1961, and anchored the SEM relay team to a historic win from behind, against archrivals Sherwood.
I myself was there from 1958 to 1965, and my younger brother Neville was there in the 1960s. My nephews (sister’s sons) Peter Wu and Francis Wu had brief stints in SEM in the 1990s. So the Noronhas of Kanpur have been associated with SEM for well nigh 90 years and three generations. If any other family can beat that, then we will gladly hand over the baton to them
Interestingly, when my father went to SEM about a hundred years ago, he and his brothers were among the very few Indians there. Most of the boys were either European or Eurasian (Anglo-Indian would be incorrect). There was no motorable road from Kathgodam. They went up on ponies.
I also recall my father reminiscing about the puree tack at Kathgodam. This was an Anglicism for puri tarkari. So I was tickled to read Bert Hand’s reference to puree tack in his “Footsteps of Time” in the same issue of the “Sem Tattler”. May the magazine and the old boys tattle and prattle on!
MARCH 2010
My late father, Chevalier Peter de Noronha KSG, CE (1897 –1970) passed out of SEM in 1916. He had simultaneously passed the Roorkee Civil Engineering exam, coming third in the All India merit list, and winning a scholarship. In the College Muster Roll of 1916 (as per the “Education Record 1916” of which I have a copy) his is listed as the second name among the boarders. I do not know for sure when he joined SEM, it could have been around 1909 – a hundred years ago! His younger brothers Willie (1899 – 1975) and Stanley (1901 – 1970) were also with him in SEM. From SEM he went on to the renowned Thomason College of Engineering at Roorkee (now IIT Roorkee) from where he did his Civil Engineering in 1918. Since it coincided with the First World War he was simultaneously commissioned into the King George’s Own Royal Sappers & Miners (now the Bombay Sappers).
The next generation of Noronhas all studied in SEM, and the girls in Ramnee. My eldest brother Douglas (deceased) was there in the late 1940s and early 1950s. My first cousins William, Terence (deceased) Johnny (died while duck shooting while still in SEM) and Errol were all there. Errol was College Captain in 1961, and anchored the SEM relay team to a historic win from behind, against archrivals Sherwood.
I myself was there from 1958 to 1965, and my younger brother Neville was there in the 1960s. My nephews (sister’s sons) Peter Wu and Francis Wu had brief stints in SEM in the 1990s. So the Noronhas of Kanpur have been associated with SEM for well nigh 90 years and three generations. If any other family can beat that, then we will gladly hand over the baton to them
Interestingly, when my father went to SEM about a hundred years ago, he and his brothers were among the very few Indians there. Most of the boys were either European or Eurasian (Anglo-Indian would be incorrect). There was no motorable road from Kathgodam. They went up on ponies.
I also recall my father reminiscing about the puree tack at Kathgodam. This was an Anglicism for puri tarkari. So I was tickled to read Bert Hand’s reference to puree tack in his “Footsteps of Time” in the same issue of the “Sem Tattler”. May the magazine and the old boys tattle and prattle on!
MARCH 2010
THE NEUNER I KNEW
Father Josef Neuner SJ passed away in early December in Pune, at the grand age of 101. I did not grieve his death, because for a holy man like him, death is but another step forward in the journey of life. Normally the number 101 is associated with the book/ movie “101 Dalmatians”. Dalmatians are white dogs with black spots, and highly strung by nature. Neuner was quite the opposite.
He was a gentle giant, which may sound like an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. 2000 years ago Simeon had prophesised that Jesus would be a sign of contradiction (cf Lk 2:34). Some modern translations use the phrase “a sign that will be opposed”, or contradicted. Perhaps a better word would be a “contra-indication”; for words like “contradiction” and “opposition” have today assumed a negative connotation.
The word “contra-indication” would be apt for Neuner; for he was lucid in his thoughts, simple in his lifestyle, very devout with a special love for Mother Mary, and tenacious in his theological convictions. It is for this reason that I have carefully chosen the word “contra-indication” to describe Neuner. He combined the intellectual prowess of the Jesuit with the humility and simplicity of the Franciscan.
Neuner could not be categorised as a liberal or a conservative, pro or anti liberation theology, charismatic renewal, indigenisation, psychotherapy etc. I happened to be in De Nobili College, Pune, for his 74th birthday on 19th August 1982. Though I was a layman he especially agreed to guide me in the classic 30-day Ignatian retreat (I had earlier made one under another great Jesuit – Fr Dan Rice SJ). For Neuner’s birthday I made a sketch entitled “The Cup is Better than the Bottle’, that I presented to him; and it was later put up on the seminary notice board. At that time there was a strong movement to stop the use of feeding bottles, being unhygienic. It was better to feed infants with a cup and a spoon.
This is what I saw in Neuner. He did not want theologians or priests to be mere bottle suckers, swallowing what was fed to them. He wanted to inculcate in them a spirit of enquiry and a thirst for truth.
What amazed me about Fr Neuner was his clarity of thought. At that time I was living as a layman in a Christian ashram, and trying to discern my future way of life. Neuner said to me in no uncertain terms, “The life that you are now living finds no place in the Church. You are neither a religious, nor a layman, neither fish nor fowl. You must decide for yourself what you want to be.” That is when I felt God speaking to me through Fr Neuner that I should revert to a secular life as a married person, and work for the Church in the temporal order through secular affairs.
I had first meet Fr Neuner a couple of years before that at the National Convention of Vocation Promoters at Pune. I was then the founder Secretary of the U.P. Regional Youth & Vocations Bureau. At the convention we were in the same discussion group. Several priests and religious waxed eloquent on the new emphasis on the basic Christian vocation, as against the earlier one on promoting vocations to the priesthood and religious life. I had tried to intervene that we should not discourage specific vocations, but needed to drastically revamp the process of vocation promotion, which then concentrated on catching them young and uncorrupted by the ways of the world! I had tried to advocate more mature vocations, after going through a young person’s period of growth in critical awareness. Mine was a lone voice, until Fr Neuner intervened to say that the convention should take serious note of what I was propounding.
It was also at that time that I saw Fr Neuner’s book, “The Prophetic Role of the Laity”, published by NVSC, Pune. It had a profound impact on me – the nature of a prophet – one who stands alone, is unfazed by criticism or ostracism, and speaks in God’s name, for the welfare of His people. The book also emphasised the role of the laity in secular/ temporal affairs, as envisioned by Vatican II. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the laity, who are blissfully unaware of Vatican II, still thinks that being a member of the parish council, doing the readings or taking the collection in Church on Sundays is the ultimate form of lay participation in the life of the church!
Fr Neuner was probably the greatest contemporary Christologist in India. His monumental work “The Christian Faith”, published in 1973, is a standard textbook for theology in every seminary in India. It was first written in German in 1938, and constantly updated, especially to incorporate the teachings of Vatican II. Later editions of this work found appreciation and support from Rev Karl Rahner SJ, undoubtedly the most brilliant theologian of the 20th century. Despite his gigantic standing in the world of theology, Fr Neuner was ever the humble and simple soul. His life and teachings have left an indelible mark on me.
As an expert theologian who assisted in the drafting of the Vatican II documents, he was deeply committed to the radical reforms envisaged by Vatican II ecclesiology. Unfortunately, in India atleast, these reforms have been largely cosmetic, and limited to the liturgy. The church has not addressed the core issues of a dialoguing, participatory, indigenous and servant church. It still continues in all its Roman pageantry, triumphalism and hierarchical clericalism. Has Fr Neuner’s life been in vain?
Thousands of priests and religious, and perhaps a few laypersons like me, had the unique opportunity of learning the ways of the Lord from Fr Neuner. Now that he has gone ahead I hope and pray that his students and disciples will imbibe his spirit of theological honesty and social praxis; for the cup is better than the bottle.
* The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union.
He was a gentle giant, which may sound like an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. 2000 years ago Simeon had prophesised that Jesus would be a sign of contradiction (cf Lk 2:34). Some modern translations use the phrase “a sign that will be opposed”, or contradicted. Perhaps a better word would be a “contra-indication”; for words like “contradiction” and “opposition” have today assumed a negative connotation.
The word “contra-indication” would be apt for Neuner; for he was lucid in his thoughts, simple in his lifestyle, very devout with a special love for Mother Mary, and tenacious in his theological convictions. It is for this reason that I have carefully chosen the word “contra-indication” to describe Neuner. He combined the intellectual prowess of the Jesuit with the humility and simplicity of the Franciscan.
Neuner could not be categorised as a liberal or a conservative, pro or anti liberation theology, charismatic renewal, indigenisation, psychotherapy etc. I happened to be in De Nobili College, Pune, for his 74th birthday on 19th August 1982. Though I was a layman he especially agreed to guide me in the classic 30-day Ignatian retreat (I had earlier made one under another great Jesuit – Fr Dan Rice SJ). For Neuner’s birthday I made a sketch entitled “The Cup is Better than the Bottle’, that I presented to him; and it was later put up on the seminary notice board. At that time there was a strong movement to stop the use of feeding bottles, being unhygienic. It was better to feed infants with a cup and a spoon.
This is what I saw in Neuner. He did not want theologians or priests to be mere bottle suckers, swallowing what was fed to them. He wanted to inculcate in them a spirit of enquiry and a thirst for truth.
What amazed me about Fr Neuner was his clarity of thought. At that time I was living as a layman in a Christian ashram, and trying to discern my future way of life. Neuner said to me in no uncertain terms, “The life that you are now living finds no place in the Church. You are neither a religious, nor a layman, neither fish nor fowl. You must decide for yourself what you want to be.” That is when I felt God speaking to me through Fr Neuner that I should revert to a secular life as a married person, and work for the Church in the temporal order through secular affairs.
I had first meet Fr Neuner a couple of years before that at the National Convention of Vocation Promoters at Pune. I was then the founder Secretary of the U.P. Regional Youth & Vocations Bureau. At the convention we were in the same discussion group. Several priests and religious waxed eloquent on the new emphasis on the basic Christian vocation, as against the earlier one on promoting vocations to the priesthood and religious life. I had tried to intervene that we should not discourage specific vocations, but needed to drastically revamp the process of vocation promotion, which then concentrated on catching them young and uncorrupted by the ways of the world! I had tried to advocate more mature vocations, after going through a young person’s period of growth in critical awareness. Mine was a lone voice, until Fr Neuner intervened to say that the convention should take serious note of what I was propounding.
It was also at that time that I saw Fr Neuner’s book, “The Prophetic Role of the Laity”, published by NVSC, Pune. It had a profound impact on me – the nature of a prophet – one who stands alone, is unfazed by criticism or ostracism, and speaks in God’s name, for the welfare of His people. The book also emphasised the role of the laity in secular/ temporal affairs, as envisioned by Vatican II. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the laity, who are blissfully unaware of Vatican II, still thinks that being a member of the parish council, doing the readings or taking the collection in Church on Sundays is the ultimate form of lay participation in the life of the church!
Fr Neuner was probably the greatest contemporary Christologist in India. His monumental work “The Christian Faith”, published in 1973, is a standard textbook for theology in every seminary in India. It was first written in German in 1938, and constantly updated, especially to incorporate the teachings of Vatican II. Later editions of this work found appreciation and support from Rev Karl Rahner SJ, undoubtedly the most brilliant theologian of the 20th century. Despite his gigantic standing in the world of theology, Fr Neuner was ever the humble and simple soul. His life and teachings have left an indelible mark on me.
As an expert theologian who assisted in the drafting of the Vatican II documents, he was deeply committed to the radical reforms envisaged by Vatican II ecclesiology. Unfortunately, in India atleast, these reforms have been largely cosmetic, and limited to the liturgy. The church has not addressed the core issues of a dialoguing, participatory, indigenous and servant church. It still continues in all its Roman pageantry, triumphalism and hierarchical clericalism. Has Fr Neuner’s life been in vain?
Thousands of priests and religious, and perhaps a few laypersons like me, had the unique opportunity of learning the ways of the Lord from Fr Neuner. Now that he has gone ahead I hope and pray that his students and disciples will imbibe his spirit of theological honesty and social praxis; for the cup is better than the bottle.
* The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union.
THE MULBERRY TREE
Last month the mulberry tree in our garden was laden with blossoms. It did not excite me, because I did not expect to get any fruit from it! Because the bats and birds would devour all the fruit before we got to see any, as had happened the previous year. We also have pomegranate and guava trees, but the squirrels eat the pomegranate seeds and the parrots or the occasional langur eat the guavas. So why waste time and energy nurturing fruit trees, without the benefit of the fruit?
Hadn’t the great teacher Jesus himself warned that, “Any tree that does not produce good fruit is cut down and thrown on the fire” (Mat 7:19). John the Baptist had earlier issued a similar warning, “The axe is being laid to the root of the trees, so that any tree failing to produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown on the fire” (Lk 3:9). A couple of years ago I had followed this advice for another mulberry tree.
It had, of its own, come up in the shadow of one of the jackfruit trees. It was laden with fruit, not yet ripe, and the family was eagerly looking forward to some juicy fruit. But early one morning the tree was bare. Not a single berry, not even on the ground. Overnight, the bats had gobbled them all. I was livid. The axe came out and the tree came down. What use for a tree that gave us no fruit, and would also be an obstacle to the jackfruit tree?
I decided that I would keep only the jackfruit, lime and citrus trees in the garden, as birds and bats didn’t attack them. One summer the lime tree was loaded, so welcome for juice or pickle. Then right before our eyes, with hundreds of bright yellow fruit on it, the tree just shrivelled and died. Its roots had been attacked by white ants. We were shattered. A month later the peach tree also shrivelled up, destroyed by the white ants.
I planted some more lime and Chinese orange saplings. The oranges bore fruit, but not the lime trees. Nature defies logic. Then a minor miracle occurred. Another mulberry tree emerged of its own on the very spot where the lime tree had withered. I didn’t expect it to survive, but it did; and bore fruit the next year. We got none of it thanks to the bats and the birds. So I began to sharpen my axe again.
It was around that time that I read a newspaper article about the Govt’s afforestation drive. Remember Sanjay Gandhi’s eucalyptus trees during the Emergency (1975 -77)? It was an ecological disaster. The forest dept did not seem to have learnt its lessons. In its urban afforestation (usually below electric transmission lines) it was planting glorified shrubs, not trees, and none of them were fruit bearing species.
In contrast, from early childhood I remember driving down shaded avenues from my hometown, Kanpur, to neighbouring cities like Lucknow, Allahabad, Agra and Jhansi. These roads were lined with fruit bearing mango and jamun trees. They also had leafy trees of the fig family like pipal, pakad and gular. Such trees were the favourite haunt of the hariyal (green pigeon), a shikari’s prize. The oldest road, known as the Mughal road, was built by Sher Shah Suri in the 13th century. It extended from Peshawar (now in Pakistan) to Calcutta. The British renamed it as the Grand Trunk (GT) Road. Our forefathers seemed to have a vision that we lack.
They hadn’t planted those trees because they themselves wanted to eat the fruit. But the villagers, the roadside urchins and the birds and bats would have something to eat. Weary travellers would find solace and refuge, and the tarred roads would be protected from the unrelenting onslaught of the summer sun.
The article that I had read stated that if there were no fruit trees then there would be no birds either, and we would miss their twittering sounds. I reflected further that if the birds decreased, the insects would increase, and so would vector borne diseases. It got me thinking. So I made a conscientious decision to allow the pomegranate, guava and even the ubiquitous mulberry tree to grow. Nature again defied logic. This year we had a bumper crop of mulberries, our fingers and lips stained deep purple with mulberry juice. Nature is a great teacher. It teaches us the “novel” management mantra of win-win situations. Respect nature, and it will bless you.
We also have the joy of being awoken every morning by the birds in our garden – the sweet whistle of the rock chat, the cooing of the doves, and the twittering of the red whiskered bulbuls. Winter visitors to our garden include the raucous tree-pie, the glittering purple sunbirds, the hoopoes, the white-eyes and the green bee-eaters. A foretaste of heaven.
A forest officer once told me that we should also grow trees with dense foliage like the neem and ashoka, which emit maximum oxygen. In 1998 I had written a poem “Brother Neem”, about the life and death of the hundred-year-old neem tree in our ancestral house. It is attached herewith as its message rings out loud and clear. When we moved in 2002, I took with me a sapling of the grand old neem, and planted it in our new home. It is now a large tree, and in turn I have planted its saplings in the park in front of our house. So the cycle of life continues.
Recently there was a Sparrow Day and an Earth Hour to save the planet. Cute. Bollywood celebs switched off their lights for an hour, and enjoyed a romantic candlelight dinner. Several other “concerned environmentalists” lit candles too, to substitute for electricity. Stupid. They were probably burning up more natural non-renewable resources than they had purportedly saved. I also wonder if those celebs had switched off their air conditioners alongwith their lights?
We don’t need pseudo environmentalists to tell us what to switch off or on. Instead let us put our ears to the ground, to pick up the gentle promptings of nature. During the recent tsunami on our east coast, it was the wild elephants that had picked up the deep rumblings of the sea, and migrated to higher ground before disaster struck.
Nature speaks to us through the trees and the bees. Could we perhaps switch off our TV sets, including National Geographic, and heed the call of nature (no pun intended). As Jesus said, “ If you had faith like a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea’ and it would obey you” (Lk 17: 5-6). So let us have faith in God, and love for nature, including the ubiquitous mulberry tree.
* The writer is a nature lover and an environmentalist.
APRIL 2010
Hadn’t the great teacher Jesus himself warned that, “Any tree that does not produce good fruit is cut down and thrown on the fire” (Mat 7:19). John the Baptist had earlier issued a similar warning, “The axe is being laid to the root of the trees, so that any tree failing to produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown on the fire” (Lk 3:9). A couple of years ago I had followed this advice for another mulberry tree.
It had, of its own, come up in the shadow of one of the jackfruit trees. It was laden with fruit, not yet ripe, and the family was eagerly looking forward to some juicy fruit. But early one morning the tree was bare. Not a single berry, not even on the ground. Overnight, the bats had gobbled them all. I was livid. The axe came out and the tree came down. What use for a tree that gave us no fruit, and would also be an obstacle to the jackfruit tree?
I decided that I would keep only the jackfruit, lime and citrus trees in the garden, as birds and bats didn’t attack them. One summer the lime tree was loaded, so welcome for juice or pickle. Then right before our eyes, with hundreds of bright yellow fruit on it, the tree just shrivelled and died. Its roots had been attacked by white ants. We were shattered. A month later the peach tree also shrivelled up, destroyed by the white ants.
I planted some more lime and Chinese orange saplings. The oranges bore fruit, but not the lime trees. Nature defies logic. Then a minor miracle occurred. Another mulberry tree emerged of its own on the very spot where the lime tree had withered. I didn’t expect it to survive, but it did; and bore fruit the next year. We got none of it thanks to the bats and the birds. So I began to sharpen my axe again.
It was around that time that I read a newspaper article about the Govt’s afforestation drive. Remember Sanjay Gandhi’s eucalyptus trees during the Emergency (1975 -77)? It was an ecological disaster. The forest dept did not seem to have learnt its lessons. In its urban afforestation (usually below electric transmission lines) it was planting glorified shrubs, not trees, and none of them were fruit bearing species.
In contrast, from early childhood I remember driving down shaded avenues from my hometown, Kanpur, to neighbouring cities like Lucknow, Allahabad, Agra and Jhansi. These roads were lined with fruit bearing mango and jamun trees. They also had leafy trees of the fig family like pipal, pakad and gular. Such trees were the favourite haunt of the hariyal (green pigeon), a shikari’s prize. The oldest road, known as the Mughal road, was built by Sher Shah Suri in the 13th century. It extended from Peshawar (now in Pakistan) to Calcutta. The British renamed it as the Grand Trunk (GT) Road. Our forefathers seemed to have a vision that we lack.
They hadn’t planted those trees because they themselves wanted to eat the fruit. But the villagers, the roadside urchins and the birds and bats would have something to eat. Weary travellers would find solace and refuge, and the tarred roads would be protected from the unrelenting onslaught of the summer sun.
The article that I had read stated that if there were no fruit trees then there would be no birds either, and we would miss their twittering sounds. I reflected further that if the birds decreased, the insects would increase, and so would vector borne diseases. It got me thinking. So I made a conscientious decision to allow the pomegranate, guava and even the ubiquitous mulberry tree to grow. Nature again defied logic. This year we had a bumper crop of mulberries, our fingers and lips stained deep purple with mulberry juice. Nature is a great teacher. It teaches us the “novel” management mantra of win-win situations. Respect nature, and it will bless you.
We also have the joy of being awoken every morning by the birds in our garden – the sweet whistle of the rock chat, the cooing of the doves, and the twittering of the red whiskered bulbuls. Winter visitors to our garden include the raucous tree-pie, the glittering purple sunbirds, the hoopoes, the white-eyes and the green bee-eaters. A foretaste of heaven.
A forest officer once told me that we should also grow trees with dense foliage like the neem and ashoka, which emit maximum oxygen. In 1998 I had written a poem “Brother Neem”, about the life and death of the hundred-year-old neem tree in our ancestral house. It is attached herewith as its message rings out loud and clear. When we moved in 2002, I took with me a sapling of the grand old neem, and planted it in our new home. It is now a large tree, and in turn I have planted its saplings in the park in front of our house. So the cycle of life continues.
Recently there was a Sparrow Day and an Earth Hour to save the planet. Cute. Bollywood celebs switched off their lights for an hour, and enjoyed a romantic candlelight dinner. Several other “concerned environmentalists” lit candles too, to substitute for electricity. Stupid. They were probably burning up more natural non-renewable resources than they had purportedly saved. I also wonder if those celebs had switched off their air conditioners alongwith their lights?
We don’t need pseudo environmentalists to tell us what to switch off or on. Instead let us put our ears to the ground, to pick up the gentle promptings of nature. During the recent tsunami on our east coast, it was the wild elephants that had picked up the deep rumblings of the sea, and migrated to higher ground before disaster struck.
Nature speaks to us through the trees and the bees. Could we perhaps switch off our TV sets, including National Geographic, and heed the call of nature (no pun intended). As Jesus said, “ If you had faith like a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea’ and it would obey you” (Lk 17: 5-6). So let us have faith in God, and love for nature, including the ubiquitous mulberry tree.
* The writer is a nature lover and an environmentalist.
APRIL 2010
SPARRING OVER THE ROD
“Spare the rod and spoil the child” was the old dictum. Now that the print and electronic media have highlighted the suicide of Rouvanjit Rawla, allegedly after having been caned by Sumrinal Chakraborty, the Principal of La Martiniere, Kolkata, we have another trial by the media. It makes for good copy and TRPs. Shobhaa De, in her column “Cane and able: what a terrible idea sirji” (Times of India 13th June), has already passed judgement. She alleges that the “viciousness of combined attacks on him (one report mentioned the cane broke on the child’s back) were obviously enough for him to go in search of the killer rope”.
She then concludes that “no teacher from the school had thought it necessary to alert the Rawlas to their son’s indiscipline”. She then admits that the incident “revived long buried memories of being frequently caned myself as a schoolgirl … by a towering woman representing a Scottish mission”. She remained silent then, but now feels that “it is important to keep up the pressure and punish those responsible for driving Rouvanjit to take his life. The era of adopting the so-called traditional cane and able modus operandi to make errant kids toe the line are over, Mr Chakraborty”. Without ascertaining all the facts and circumstances, has Shobhaa already pronounced the guilty verdict? Yeh shobha nahin dehta.
I usually appreciate Shobhaa’s column, but this time her ogres of the past seemed to have haunted her in the present, and determined her future course of action. I do not fault her. However, other than the trial by media, I feel that the root causes are not being addressed. We are sparring over the merits or demerits of sparing the rod, in this case the cane. The real issue is – why do young people commit suicide? What are the factors that abet suicidal tendencies? Who is to blame – the educational system, the media, parents, societal norms, or religious and community leaders? Is it fair to offer simplistic answers to complex issues?
Like Shobhaa I too will delve into the past. At the tender age of 7 I was packed off to boarding school – St Joseph’s College, Nainital (SJC), run by the Irish Christian Brothers. After 8 years there I spent another 1½ years in boarding at La Martiniere College, Lucknow (LMC), the brother institution of the one in Kolkata. In SJC the “Brothers” walked around with heavy leather straps in their deep pockets. They were convenient for “benders”; bend down and take the whack on your backside. The leather straps gradually disappeared, but the Malacca canes remained. Like cricket bats, they were cured in oil, to make them more effective! Being the youngest in my class I was an “innocent” guy. Yet I got caned twice in those 8 years. I once got 2 shots on the hand because I had not trimmed my fingernails; on another occasion I got 4 benders for going to the toilet during study time! Terrible sirji! (We always called the brothers “Sir”). I was not in need of reform. This cruelty deformed or stunted my growth. I hated the “Brothers”. I did not find anything Christian or brotherly in them. I say this with sadness, not bitterness.
There were several errant boarders who regularly got caned. They padded their posteriors with exercise books to make the benders less lethal. But it did not transform them. They actually basked in the glory of having taken it. The rod was not working. There was a boy called Tommy, who was a kleptomaniac and prone to violence. No amount of caning helped. He was eventually rusticated. Food for thought.
My thoughts now move to LMC. It was another elitist institution like SJC, with one big difference. It had a large presence of foundationers – economically deprived Anglo Indian boys. Many were from broken homes, or a social milieu struggling to come to grips with their loss of privileged status in post-independent India. They harboured resentment, expressed in violent behaviour. It made them good boxers and rugby players. But that was not enough to give vent to their frustration or sense of loss. So they often got six of the best, where it hurt the most.
Here comes the twist in the tale, which was actually straightening the twist in the tail. The thrashings made men of these boys, with many of them pursuing successful careers in later life. I am not trying to justify these thrashings. Nor am I passing judgement. I am only telling the tale like it is. How did these foundationers develop a strong foundation? LMC is not a missionary school. Claude Martin, a French general, founded it, for deprived Eurasians (Anglo Indians).
Here is where I see the contrast between SJC and LMC. The latter had Masters, who often came from similar backgrounds as that of the foundationers. Hence, even though they were strict with the boys, they also loved them. This caused the transformation. In contrast, my Irish Brothers, or Shobhaa’s Scottish ogre, were celibates, who were supposed to live a life of chastity. Unfortunately they misconstrued it. Instead of liberating them to be more loving, it made them restrictive, unable to express emotion or affection, interpreted as a sign of weakness. The understanding of celibacy has changed for the better today, but that is how it was when I, or Shobhaa, went to school.
I would like to make another distinction between boarding and day schools. In SJC we were in “prison’ for nine months at a stretch. We missed parental guidance and support. That is not so for day scholars, for whom school is an outing. Rouvanjit was a day scholar, living with his parents. Had he been a boarder, the onus for his suicide would have been more on the school or the Principal. Since he was living a presumably normal family life, I cannot accept that a single act of caning led him to suicide. There is much more to it than meets the eye. The delayed reaction of 4 months in filing the case also raises eyebrows. Is somebody with an axe to grind (didn’t get admission) prodding the deceased’s father to seek revenge?
I am also reminded of a close family friend who was a senior teacher in a convent school. She migrated to England and took up a teaching assignment. She gave it up in exasperation, as the kids were uncontrollable, in the absence of any form of corporal punishment. Were they sparing the rod and spoiling the child?
What lessons can we learn from these events? The first lesson I learnt was that I was not going to send my children to a boarding school. Nor did I send them to a missionary school, even though I was then the National President of the All India Catholic Union. Nor did I send them to a pressure cooker public school. We sent them to an ordinary Hindi medium school meant for the children of factory workers. They emerged as holistic human beings. They didn’t have cutting edge competitiveness. But they had the spirit of co-operation, which modern society desperately requires.
Rouvanjit, we are saddened at your death. Our love and sympathy to your family. Mr Chakraborty, chuck out the cane, it doesn’t work today.
We need to replace anger with patience, fear with love, and competition with co-operation. Families, educationists, spiritual and community leaders need to discover the transforming and healing power of love, of which the Bible says: “In love there is no room for fear, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear implies punishment, and whoever is afraid has not come to perfection in love” (1 Jn 4:18).
Instead of sparring over the rod, let us spare some more time for loving our children, as also the unloved. That would be a lovely idea sirji!
* The writer has been actively engaged in youth counselling. He will address the specific issue of suicide in his collorary to this piece.
JUNE 2010
She then concludes that “no teacher from the school had thought it necessary to alert the Rawlas to their son’s indiscipline”. She then admits that the incident “revived long buried memories of being frequently caned myself as a schoolgirl … by a towering woman representing a Scottish mission”. She remained silent then, but now feels that “it is important to keep up the pressure and punish those responsible for driving Rouvanjit to take his life. The era of adopting the so-called traditional cane and able modus operandi to make errant kids toe the line are over, Mr Chakraborty”. Without ascertaining all the facts and circumstances, has Shobhaa already pronounced the guilty verdict? Yeh shobha nahin dehta.
I usually appreciate Shobhaa’s column, but this time her ogres of the past seemed to have haunted her in the present, and determined her future course of action. I do not fault her. However, other than the trial by media, I feel that the root causes are not being addressed. We are sparring over the merits or demerits of sparing the rod, in this case the cane. The real issue is – why do young people commit suicide? What are the factors that abet suicidal tendencies? Who is to blame – the educational system, the media, parents, societal norms, or religious and community leaders? Is it fair to offer simplistic answers to complex issues?
Like Shobhaa I too will delve into the past. At the tender age of 7 I was packed off to boarding school – St Joseph’s College, Nainital (SJC), run by the Irish Christian Brothers. After 8 years there I spent another 1½ years in boarding at La Martiniere College, Lucknow (LMC), the brother institution of the one in Kolkata. In SJC the “Brothers” walked around with heavy leather straps in their deep pockets. They were convenient for “benders”; bend down and take the whack on your backside. The leather straps gradually disappeared, but the Malacca canes remained. Like cricket bats, they were cured in oil, to make them more effective! Being the youngest in my class I was an “innocent” guy. Yet I got caned twice in those 8 years. I once got 2 shots on the hand because I had not trimmed my fingernails; on another occasion I got 4 benders for going to the toilet during study time! Terrible sirji! (We always called the brothers “Sir”). I was not in need of reform. This cruelty deformed or stunted my growth. I hated the “Brothers”. I did not find anything Christian or brotherly in them. I say this with sadness, not bitterness.
There were several errant boarders who regularly got caned. They padded their posteriors with exercise books to make the benders less lethal. But it did not transform them. They actually basked in the glory of having taken it. The rod was not working. There was a boy called Tommy, who was a kleptomaniac and prone to violence. No amount of caning helped. He was eventually rusticated. Food for thought.
My thoughts now move to LMC. It was another elitist institution like SJC, with one big difference. It had a large presence of foundationers – economically deprived Anglo Indian boys. Many were from broken homes, or a social milieu struggling to come to grips with their loss of privileged status in post-independent India. They harboured resentment, expressed in violent behaviour. It made them good boxers and rugby players. But that was not enough to give vent to their frustration or sense of loss. So they often got six of the best, where it hurt the most.
Here comes the twist in the tale, which was actually straightening the twist in the tail. The thrashings made men of these boys, with many of them pursuing successful careers in later life. I am not trying to justify these thrashings. Nor am I passing judgement. I am only telling the tale like it is. How did these foundationers develop a strong foundation? LMC is not a missionary school. Claude Martin, a French general, founded it, for deprived Eurasians (Anglo Indians).
Here is where I see the contrast between SJC and LMC. The latter had Masters, who often came from similar backgrounds as that of the foundationers. Hence, even though they were strict with the boys, they also loved them. This caused the transformation. In contrast, my Irish Brothers, or Shobhaa’s Scottish ogre, were celibates, who were supposed to live a life of chastity. Unfortunately they misconstrued it. Instead of liberating them to be more loving, it made them restrictive, unable to express emotion or affection, interpreted as a sign of weakness. The understanding of celibacy has changed for the better today, but that is how it was when I, or Shobhaa, went to school.
I would like to make another distinction between boarding and day schools. In SJC we were in “prison’ for nine months at a stretch. We missed parental guidance and support. That is not so for day scholars, for whom school is an outing. Rouvanjit was a day scholar, living with his parents. Had he been a boarder, the onus for his suicide would have been more on the school or the Principal. Since he was living a presumably normal family life, I cannot accept that a single act of caning led him to suicide. There is much more to it than meets the eye. The delayed reaction of 4 months in filing the case also raises eyebrows. Is somebody with an axe to grind (didn’t get admission) prodding the deceased’s father to seek revenge?
I am also reminded of a close family friend who was a senior teacher in a convent school. She migrated to England and took up a teaching assignment. She gave it up in exasperation, as the kids were uncontrollable, in the absence of any form of corporal punishment. Were they sparing the rod and spoiling the child?
What lessons can we learn from these events? The first lesson I learnt was that I was not going to send my children to a boarding school. Nor did I send them to a missionary school, even though I was then the National President of the All India Catholic Union. Nor did I send them to a pressure cooker public school. We sent them to an ordinary Hindi medium school meant for the children of factory workers. They emerged as holistic human beings. They didn’t have cutting edge competitiveness. But they had the spirit of co-operation, which modern society desperately requires.
Rouvanjit, we are saddened at your death. Our love and sympathy to your family. Mr Chakraborty, chuck out the cane, it doesn’t work today.
We need to replace anger with patience, fear with love, and competition with co-operation. Families, educationists, spiritual and community leaders need to discover the transforming and healing power of love, of which the Bible says: “In love there is no room for fear, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear implies punishment, and whoever is afraid has not come to perfection in love” (1 Jn 4:18).
Instead of sparring over the rod, let us spare some more time for loving our children, as also the unloved. That would be a lovely idea sirji!
* The writer has been actively engaged in youth counselling. He will address the specific issue of suicide in his collorary to this piece.
JUNE 2010
CANTANKEROUS & CANCEROUS
When we became a Republic 60 years ago, India was described as a “sone ki chiriya” (golden bird). As we enter its diamond jubilee the chiriya seems to have caught the highly contagious bird flu, which warrants immediate culling. Indian society has become cantankerous – irritable and intolerant. Simultaneously the body politic has become cancerous, with the carcinogenic 3 Cs – Communalism, Casteism and Corruption. How do we celebrate a cantankerous and cancerous Republic?
We have heard ad nauseum, that India is a tolerant society. Tolerance could be a virtue, but indifference and callousness is not. How do we distinguish between them? Post 26/11 and braveheart citizens coming out in mass protests, the tolerance limits seem to have been crossed; with the bravehearts saying “Enough is enough”, of course after the horse has bolted the stable!
The tolerance bubble having burst, a contagious puss has now oozed out, like lava from a volcano. We are spewing venom at Pakistan and the politicians. What about “We the People”? Are we not as much a part of the problem? Shiv Khera talks sense, when he says that if we are not part of the solution, then we ourselves are the problem.
Tolerance is not a virtue, if we tolerate the 3 Cs that are ruining Indian society. From tolerant we have become cantankerous. It is the swing of the pendulum from one extreme to the other. It must swing, for the clock to work. But it must also find its equilibrium to work correctly. The correct new 3 Cs are - Communal harmony, social Concern and Clean dealing.
We were outraged at the TV reality show of Mumbai’s 26/11. But how many of us were moved by the devastating floods in Bihar or the thousands of Christians in refugee camps in Orissa? We mourned the death of 2 NSG commandos and 3 ATS officers in Mumbai. But we flipped the page when Maoists killed 60 Greyhound security men in Andhra.
We tolerate corruption at all levels. Now that Satyam has been exposed as jhootam (fraud) the birds are coming home to roost. Fraud and cunning can take you so far, only to eventually succumb to bird flu.
In the diamond jubilee of the Republic “We the People” have to become harbingers of our own destiny. It is not enough to have self-righteous candle light marches, saying, “Enough is enough”. We have to become involved and concerned. The time to act is now.
How many of us who curse the politicians are involved in political affairs, or even bother to cast our votes? If we have not contributed to politics, we have no right to criticise politicians. If we condone Communalism and Casteism we must be prepared to live in a fractured society that is at daggers drawn with the “the other”. We can say goodbye to peace and prosperity.
If in our evening’s candle light protest we curse the politicians, and next morning meet them to get our work done through dubious means, we are living in a twilight zone of hypocrisy and self-deception, while the cancer eats into our innards.
India has been labelled as one of the most corrupt nations in the world. Even in international fora our business houses are being accused of using “unfair means” to solicit business. The aam aadmi cannot get a basic right like a ration card, without paying a bribe. At the other end of the spectrum, there are enough corrupt officials to turn a blind eye to the movement of contraband, counterfeit or consignments of arms. How then can we fight the war against terrorism?
There has to be a war on corruption. The entry level for corruption is palm greasing or speed money to get your legitimate dues, like a ration card or pension fund. The mid level is circumventing the nuisance value of babudom – the plethora of laws, departments and officials that are a collective hindrance to progress. The third and most dangerous level is the unscrupulous businessman or the nefarious neta who will stoop to anything, and stop at nothing, to get his work done; with corrupt police, bureaucrats, politicians and even the judiciary playing ball.
If enough is enough each one of us has to cull the cancer of Communalism, Casteism and Corruption. We must replace them with the healing balm of Communal harmony, social Concern and Clean dealing. Let “We the People” say, “Long live the Republic”, our sone ke chiriya.
# The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union, and a Kanpur based social activist
JANUARY 2009
We have heard ad nauseum, that India is a tolerant society. Tolerance could be a virtue, but indifference and callousness is not. How do we distinguish between them? Post 26/11 and braveheart citizens coming out in mass protests, the tolerance limits seem to have been crossed; with the bravehearts saying “Enough is enough”, of course after the horse has bolted the stable!
The tolerance bubble having burst, a contagious puss has now oozed out, like lava from a volcano. We are spewing venom at Pakistan and the politicians. What about “We the People”? Are we not as much a part of the problem? Shiv Khera talks sense, when he says that if we are not part of the solution, then we ourselves are the problem.
Tolerance is not a virtue, if we tolerate the 3 Cs that are ruining Indian society. From tolerant we have become cantankerous. It is the swing of the pendulum from one extreme to the other. It must swing, for the clock to work. But it must also find its equilibrium to work correctly. The correct new 3 Cs are - Communal harmony, social Concern and Clean dealing.
We were outraged at the TV reality show of Mumbai’s 26/11. But how many of us were moved by the devastating floods in Bihar or the thousands of Christians in refugee camps in Orissa? We mourned the death of 2 NSG commandos and 3 ATS officers in Mumbai. But we flipped the page when Maoists killed 60 Greyhound security men in Andhra.
We tolerate corruption at all levels. Now that Satyam has been exposed as jhootam (fraud) the birds are coming home to roost. Fraud and cunning can take you so far, only to eventually succumb to bird flu.
In the diamond jubilee of the Republic “We the People” have to become harbingers of our own destiny. It is not enough to have self-righteous candle light marches, saying, “Enough is enough”. We have to become involved and concerned. The time to act is now.
How many of us who curse the politicians are involved in political affairs, or even bother to cast our votes? If we have not contributed to politics, we have no right to criticise politicians. If we condone Communalism and Casteism we must be prepared to live in a fractured society that is at daggers drawn with the “the other”. We can say goodbye to peace and prosperity.
If in our evening’s candle light protest we curse the politicians, and next morning meet them to get our work done through dubious means, we are living in a twilight zone of hypocrisy and self-deception, while the cancer eats into our innards.
India has been labelled as one of the most corrupt nations in the world. Even in international fora our business houses are being accused of using “unfair means” to solicit business. The aam aadmi cannot get a basic right like a ration card, without paying a bribe. At the other end of the spectrum, there are enough corrupt officials to turn a blind eye to the movement of contraband, counterfeit or consignments of arms. How then can we fight the war against terrorism?
There has to be a war on corruption. The entry level for corruption is palm greasing or speed money to get your legitimate dues, like a ration card or pension fund. The mid level is circumventing the nuisance value of babudom – the plethora of laws, departments and officials that are a collective hindrance to progress. The third and most dangerous level is the unscrupulous businessman or the nefarious neta who will stoop to anything, and stop at nothing, to get his work done; with corrupt police, bureaucrats, politicians and even the judiciary playing ball.
If enough is enough each one of us has to cull the cancer of Communalism, Casteism and Corruption. We must replace them with the healing balm of Communal harmony, social Concern and Clean dealing. Let “We the People” say, “Long live the Republic”, our sone ke chiriya.
# The writer is a former National President of the All India Catholic Union, and a Kanpur based social activist
JANUARY 2009
BROTHER NEEM
Brother Neem
You must be a hundred years old
Standing sentinel before our ancestral home.
My earliest memory of you
As a little child
Was of fear.
You were so big and dense
So the servants kept us
Children at bay.
Snakes could be lurking there.
Still I remember
The joy of discovery
Of wide-eyed wonder
On finding bright green parrot feathers
In the dense under growth.
Then I went away
To boarding school in the hills
To see you only in winter
When you were bare
Having shed your green canopy.
As a young boy
With my .22 rifle
I liked you bare.
It was easy to spot
The doves and pigeons
Silhouetted against the sky.
Then I grew into a young man
With all the trauma of youth.
And on the way I met Jesus.
I had to relearn life and its values.
We are here not to take life
But to give our lives for others.
And that is just what you did.
When I came back home
And settled down
I saw you with different eyes.
Even in scorching summer
It was cool as ever in your shade.
In Kanpur’s concrete jungle
Fuming and spewing pollution,
You were a green oasis
The lungs of purification.
There were many that coveted you
But did not respect you.
They said to me, “Cut it down”
And build something grand,
You will make lots of money.
I did not have the heart.
This twelfth of July
You heard a whisper
That you were no longer needed.
You did not plead your case.
You lowered your mighty arms
And bit the dust from which you came.
You could have exacted your price
For all you did these many years.
The previous night it was
Our nephew’s marriage in your embrace
But you waited till all had gone
And then you lowered your arms.
Like Jesus on the Cross
Stretching out to all humanity
Or like Moses with arms uplifted
Praying for his people’s victory.
As long as his arms were raised
His people won, till the setting sun.
Brother Neem our Brother Douglas
Followed you two days later.
His son was married
So too his sun now set
On a train
Trundling into the Midwest.
Brother Neem
Had you been in Bethlehem
Joseph would have preferred you
To a cave in the hillside.
Had you been in Nazareth
You would have heard
Mary preparing the boy Jesus
For a life of love and truth.
Had you been in Jerusalem
They would have cut you down
To make a rough hewn cross
To hang their naked shame
Little knowing
It would rise again.
As Isaiah prophesied about Jesus
“A new shoot would sprout
From the stump of Jesse
The wolf would dwell with the lamb,
The lion with the calf
And a little child would lead them”.
How can I thank you Brother Neem?
By stretching out my arms like yours.
Till it hurts, as Mother Teresa would say.
Before another American tries to patent you
I send you my grateful greetings.
Oh my Brother Neem. Namoh. Namoh.
* This piece was originally written in 1998 when these events actually occurred
You must be a hundred years old
Standing sentinel before our ancestral home.
My earliest memory of you
As a little child
Was of fear.
You were so big and dense
So the servants kept us
Children at bay.
Snakes could be lurking there.
Still I remember
The joy of discovery
Of wide-eyed wonder
On finding bright green parrot feathers
In the dense under growth.
Then I went away
To boarding school in the hills
To see you only in winter
When you were bare
Having shed your green canopy.
As a young boy
With my .22 rifle
I liked you bare.
It was easy to spot
The doves and pigeons
Silhouetted against the sky.
Then I grew into a young man
With all the trauma of youth.
And on the way I met Jesus.
I had to relearn life and its values.
We are here not to take life
But to give our lives for others.
And that is just what you did.
When I came back home
And settled down
I saw you with different eyes.
Even in scorching summer
It was cool as ever in your shade.
In Kanpur’s concrete jungle
Fuming and spewing pollution,
You were a green oasis
The lungs of purification.
There were many that coveted you
But did not respect you.
They said to me, “Cut it down”
And build something grand,
You will make lots of money.
I did not have the heart.
This twelfth of July
You heard a whisper
That you were no longer needed.
You did not plead your case.
You lowered your mighty arms
And bit the dust from which you came.
You could have exacted your price
For all you did these many years.
The previous night it was
Our nephew’s marriage in your embrace
But you waited till all had gone
And then you lowered your arms.
Like Jesus on the Cross
Stretching out to all humanity
Or like Moses with arms uplifted
Praying for his people’s victory.
As long as his arms were raised
His people won, till the setting sun.
Brother Neem our Brother Douglas
Followed you two days later.
His son was married
So too his sun now set
On a train
Trundling into the Midwest.
Brother Neem
Had you been in Bethlehem
Joseph would have preferred you
To a cave in the hillside.
Had you been in Nazareth
You would have heard
Mary preparing the boy Jesus
For a life of love and truth.
Had you been in Jerusalem
They would have cut you down
To make a rough hewn cross
To hang their naked shame
Little knowing
It would rise again.
As Isaiah prophesied about Jesus
“A new shoot would sprout
From the stump of Jesse
The wolf would dwell with the lamb,
The lion with the calf
And a little child would lead them”.
How can I thank you Brother Neem?
By stretching out my arms like yours.
Till it hurts, as Mother Teresa would say.
Before another American tries to patent you
I send you my grateful greetings.
Oh my Brother Neem. Namoh. Namoh.
* This piece was originally written in 1998 when these events actually occurred
A TRIUMPHANT RETURN
The pink sheet slipped through the letter hole in the front door; and the chowkidar coughed loud enough to draw our attention to it. It was a bitterly cold December night, and four of us kids were snuggled up near the fireplace in the drawing room, as Dad regaled us with shikar stories, and Mum rustled up the dinner. I rushed to the door to pick up the pink slip. The telegram, addressed to Dad, read “MANEATING TIGER GETS SIXTH VICTIM STOP ASK WILLIE COME IMMDTLY TO DESTROY IT STOP VILLAGERS TERRIFIED STOP RAM ASREY DISTRICT MAGISTRATE LAKHIMPUR”.
Ram Asrey had earlier been posted as the Additional District Magistrate in our hometown Kanpur, and knew of my Uncle Willie’s shooting prowess. Dad immediately called up his younger brother Willie. But Uncle Willie was hard of hearing, so his wife Mae took the phone. She called back later to say that they would leave for Lakhimpur, about 200 miles away, the day after. I was tickled pink, and begged Dad to allow me to join the hunting party, to which he reluctantly agreed.
The road from Kanpur to Lucknow was fine. But onwards to Sitapur and Lakhimpur, and then the jungle track, would be jolting. All the shikar equipment and khana peena had to go along, together with the retinue of servants and gun bearers. So Uncle Willie opted for two vehicles, the Willys Jeep for the jungle track, and his trusted V8 Chevrolet Fleetmaster, that could cruise effortlessly at 100 mph. The Fleetmaster was the type of car used by Chicago’s mafia dons in Hollywood movies.
The hunting party, besides the driver, cook and bearer, included Lal Khan, one of Uncle Willie’s most loyal hunting aides. Lal Khan brought along his weathered English 12 bore double barrel breach loading (DBBL) gun, gifted to him by a British officer going “home” to Blighty. The DBBL had hammerheads, not firing pins, which most old timers considered more reliable, though cumbersome. Uncle Willie chose to take his 500-bore elephant gun, and the sleek 375 Magnum 6 shot bolt action rifle. Aunty Mae had her 410 shotgun, and I had my diminutive Winchester short barrel .22 rifle. Aunty Mae looked benevolently at my .22 and asked if I was going to kill a huge man-eating tiger with that toy.
I had read a story about a young boy in a tea garden in Assam. A leopard was chasing his pet bull terrier. He somehow managed to scramble up a slanting tree, dragging his dog along. The leopard came after them, and was in striking distance, when the boy shoved the rifle barrel down the throat of the leopard, and fired, killing it on the spot. So I was not to be cowed down.
We reached Lakhimpur early in the evening, only to find that the District Magistrate (DM) had gone on tour to Dudhwa Block. It was nightfall when we reached there. The DM had pitched his camp in a forest clearing, and had an inviting log fire burning. He had arranged for two tents for our hunting party. He jumped out of his folding canvas chair to greet us. Uncle Willie had brought along his choicest Scotch whisky, which was more than welcome in the cold, despite the dancing flames of the log fire. Red liveried chaprasis (a vestige of the British Raj) hovered around to minister to the sahab log, while the lesser mortals contented themselves with shots of rum in the shadows.
The elders huddled together against the cold, and planned the hunt. The tiger was reportedly a magnificent 12-year-old male. Tracking of its pugmarks had indicated an injury to its right front paw, as this pugmark was lighter than the others. This is because the tiger was not putting its full weight on it, said Mangaloo, the expert tracker from the forest department. It was probably this injury that had prevented the tiger from chasing its natural prey, and made it turn to soft targets like domestic cattle or human beings.
Mangaloo also reported that earlier that evening the tiger had killed a zebu milch cow. It would return to the carcass the second day, relax on the third day, and as it felt hungry again, would make its next kill on the fourth day. So we had just two days to put our plans together.
The next morning we visited the spot of the “kill”. The tiger had dragged the carcass into the thick lantana undergrowth. It was partially eaten, so the tiger would definitely return to the carcass before going down to the nearby stream to quench its thirst. However, there were no convenient trees in the vicinity of the kill, to set up a machaan. So it was decided to erect three machaans on trees in a clearing about 500 yards away, half way between the carcass and the stream. The tiger was bound to come that way. Tigers mark their territory by standing on their hind legs and clawing the bark of the trees. Seeing the claw marks on a sal tree Mangaloo said that the tiger would be atleast 10 feet from nose to tail, a huge specimen.
The machaans would have to be erected bearing in mind the direction of the moonlight. If the moonlight silhouetted the shikaris, or glistened off their gun barrels, the ever-wary tiger would fight shy and disappear. Three machaans were erected at a height of 15 feet. Uncle Willie and Aunty Mae would be on the centre one, Lal Khan and myself on the left, and Mangaloo with another tracker on the right, in the direction from which the tiger would be expected.
On the fourth evening a male buffalo calf was tied under another tree in the moonlit portion of the clearing. We took up our positions. Uncle Willie left behind the 500 bore, as it was too heavy to hold in a machaan. It was powerful enough to pierce an elephant’s skull or a rhinoceros’ armour, but its recoil would have thrown one off a flimsy machaan. Uncle Willie sadly recalled how his son Johnny had drowned while duck shooting in a jheel three years earlier, because he had fallen into the water with a recoil. So he opted for the lighter and more accurate 375 Magnum. He loaded it with hard-nosed bullets that had more piercing power, as against the soft nosed dumdum bullets that would have shattered and splayed their target. And Uncle Willie hoped to preserve the skin. Mangaloo and his companion carried sharpened spears.
By 7 p.m. we were all in place. There was a downwind from the clearing that would carry our scent to the stream. But tigers have hardly any sense of smell, so that didn’t matter. Tigers have a very sharp sense of sight and hearing, so it was crucial that we remained well camouflaged and silent. After about two hours there was a rustling in the undergrowth as a herd of kakar (barking deer) scurried away. Then the langurs shrieked out a warning, followed by the miaowing of the peacocks. The tiger was on its way.
Rifles, guns and spears were lowered at the ready, in the direction of the tiger’s approach. Safety catches were released. The buffalo calf became restless and began tugging at its rope. It sensed danger and death, and let out a plaintive cry. It was an open invitation to the tiger. About 100 yards away, the tiger stopped on the jungle trail and slipped into the dense lantana bushes. We waited with baited breath. So did the unfortunate bait below! Sensing no danger, the tiger emerged half an hour later and halted again about 20 yards from the calf. Its tail twitched, an indication that it was about to strike. After a final furtive look around, the tiger charged. The calf screamed with fear. With one fell stroke of its left paw, as its right was injured, the tiger broke the neck of the calf. It then went for the jugular, to draw first blood. It then paused to look up, the white patch on its chest glowing softly in the moonlight.
Just as softly, Uncle Willie squeezed the trigger of the Magnum. A red squirt emerged from the patch of white. The tiger let out a blood-curdling roar that reverberated through the jungle and the neighbouring villages. As it rose to its full height, in shock and pain, it exposed its flank and a second bullet entered just below its shoulder blade, piercing its heart. The magnificent king of the Indian jungle rolled over, with just a twitch in its tail; this time it was the twitch of death.
The DM and the villagers were extremely grateful to Uncle Willie for destroying the menace that threatened their lives and livestock. The next morning we returned to Kanpur with the body of the tiger draped over the bonnet of the jeep. It was indeed a triumphant return.
Note:- This essay was originally written in December 1965 in St Joseph’s College Nainital, when the writer was 14 years of age. It was written for his Senior Cambridge exam, that earned him a distinction in English Language. He has tried to reproduce it from memory and reduced it to writing before it fades into the twilight. The writer came fifth in Trap Shooting in the U.P. State Shooting Championships in 1969. He laid down arms several years ago, and now shoots wildlife with a camera.
Photo Titles:
1. The writer with the man-eater of Lakhimpur shot in 1958. It is now preserved in his home.
2. The writer in 1969 with his first “kill”, a chinkara (Indian Gazelle).
May 2010
Ram Asrey had earlier been posted as the Additional District Magistrate in our hometown Kanpur, and knew of my Uncle Willie’s shooting prowess. Dad immediately called up his younger brother Willie. But Uncle Willie was hard of hearing, so his wife Mae took the phone. She called back later to say that they would leave for Lakhimpur, about 200 miles away, the day after. I was tickled pink, and begged Dad to allow me to join the hunting party, to which he reluctantly agreed.
The road from Kanpur to Lucknow was fine. But onwards to Sitapur and Lakhimpur, and then the jungle track, would be jolting. All the shikar equipment and khana peena had to go along, together with the retinue of servants and gun bearers. So Uncle Willie opted for two vehicles, the Willys Jeep for the jungle track, and his trusted V8 Chevrolet Fleetmaster, that could cruise effortlessly at 100 mph. The Fleetmaster was the type of car used by Chicago’s mafia dons in Hollywood movies.
The hunting party, besides the driver, cook and bearer, included Lal Khan, one of Uncle Willie’s most loyal hunting aides. Lal Khan brought along his weathered English 12 bore double barrel breach loading (DBBL) gun, gifted to him by a British officer going “home” to Blighty. The DBBL had hammerheads, not firing pins, which most old timers considered more reliable, though cumbersome. Uncle Willie chose to take his 500-bore elephant gun, and the sleek 375 Magnum 6 shot bolt action rifle. Aunty Mae had her 410 shotgun, and I had my diminutive Winchester short barrel .22 rifle. Aunty Mae looked benevolently at my .22 and asked if I was going to kill a huge man-eating tiger with that toy.
I had read a story about a young boy in a tea garden in Assam. A leopard was chasing his pet bull terrier. He somehow managed to scramble up a slanting tree, dragging his dog along. The leopard came after them, and was in striking distance, when the boy shoved the rifle barrel down the throat of the leopard, and fired, killing it on the spot. So I was not to be cowed down.
We reached Lakhimpur early in the evening, only to find that the District Magistrate (DM) had gone on tour to Dudhwa Block. It was nightfall when we reached there. The DM had pitched his camp in a forest clearing, and had an inviting log fire burning. He had arranged for two tents for our hunting party. He jumped out of his folding canvas chair to greet us. Uncle Willie had brought along his choicest Scotch whisky, which was more than welcome in the cold, despite the dancing flames of the log fire. Red liveried chaprasis (a vestige of the British Raj) hovered around to minister to the sahab log, while the lesser mortals contented themselves with shots of rum in the shadows.
The elders huddled together against the cold, and planned the hunt. The tiger was reportedly a magnificent 12-year-old male. Tracking of its pugmarks had indicated an injury to its right front paw, as this pugmark was lighter than the others. This is because the tiger was not putting its full weight on it, said Mangaloo, the expert tracker from the forest department. It was probably this injury that had prevented the tiger from chasing its natural prey, and made it turn to soft targets like domestic cattle or human beings.
Mangaloo also reported that earlier that evening the tiger had killed a zebu milch cow. It would return to the carcass the second day, relax on the third day, and as it felt hungry again, would make its next kill on the fourth day. So we had just two days to put our plans together.
The next morning we visited the spot of the “kill”. The tiger had dragged the carcass into the thick lantana undergrowth. It was partially eaten, so the tiger would definitely return to the carcass before going down to the nearby stream to quench its thirst. However, there were no convenient trees in the vicinity of the kill, to set up a machaan. So it was decided to erect three machaans on trees in a clearing about 500 yards away, half way between the carcass and the stream. The tiger was bound to come that way. Tigers mark their territory by standing on their hind legs and clawing the bark of the trees. Seeing the claw marks on a sal tree Mangaloo said that the tiger would be atleast 10 feet from nose to tail, a huge specimen.
The machaans would have to be erected bearing in mind the direction of the moonlight. If the moonlight silhouetted the shikaris, or glistened off their gun barrels, the ever-wary tiger would fight shy and disappear. Three machaans were erected at a height of 15 feet. Uncle Willie and Aunty Mae would be on the centre one, Lal Khan and myself on the left, and Mangaloo with another tracker on the right, in the direction from which the tiger would be expected.
On the fourth evening a male buffalo calf was tied under another tree in the moonlit portion of the clearing. We took up our positions. Uncle Willie left behind the 500 bore, as it was too heavy to hold in a machaan. It was powerful enough to pierce an elephant’s skull or a rhinoceros’ armour, but its recoil would have thrown one off a flimsy machaan. Uncle Willie sadly recalled how his son Johnny had drowned while duck shooting in a jheel three years earlier, because he had fallen into the water with a recoil. So he opted for the lighter and more accurate 375 Magnum. He loaded it with hard-nosed bullets that had more piercing power, as against the soft nosed dumdum bullets that would have shattered and splayed their target. And Uncle Willie hoped to preserve the skin. Mangaloo and his companion carried sharpened spears.
By 7 p.m. we were all in place. There was a downwind from the clearing that would carry our scent to the stream. But tigers have hardly any sense of smell, so that didn’t matter. Tigers have a very sharp sense of sight and hearing, so it was crucial that we remained well camouflaged and silent. After about two hours there was a rustling in the undergrowth as a herd of kakar (barking deer) scurried away. Then the langurs shrieked out a warning, followed by the miaowing of the peacocks. The tiger was on its way.
Rifles, guns and spears were lowered at the ready, in the direction of the tiger’s approach. Safety catches were released. The buffalo calf became restless and began tugging at its rope. It sensed danger and death, and let out a plaintive cry. It was an open invitation to the tiger. About 100 yards away, the tiger stopped on the jungle trail and slipped into the dense lantana bushes. We waited with baited breath. So did the unfortunate bait below! Sensing no danger, the tiger emerged half an hour later and halted again about 20 yards from the calf. Its tail twitched, an indication that it was about to strike. After a final furtive look around, the tiger charged. The calf screamed with fear. With one fell stroke of its left paw, as its right was injured, the tiger broke the neck of the calf. It then went for the jugular, to draw first blood. It then paused to look up, the white patch on its chest glowing softly in the moonlight.
Just as softly, Uncle Willie squeezed the trigger of the Magnum. A red squirt emerged from the patch of white. The tiger let out a blood-curdling roar that reverberated through the jungle and the neighbouring villages. As it rose to its full height, in shock and pain, it exposed its flank and a second bullet entered just below its shoulder blade, piercing its heart. The magnificent king of the Indian jungle rolled over, with just a twitch in its tail; this time it was the twitch of death.
The DM and the villagers were extremely grateful to Uncle Willie for destroying the menace that threatened their lives and livestock. The next morning we returned to Kanpur with the body of the tiger draped over the bonnet of the jeep. It was indeed a triumphant return.
Note:- This essay was originally written in December 1965 in St Joseph’s College Nainital, when the writer was 14 years of age. It was written for his Senior Cambridge exam, that earned him a distinction in English Language. He has tried to reproduce it from memory and reduced it to writing before it fades into the twilight. The writer came fifth in Trap Shooting in the U.P. State Shooting Championships in 1969. He laid down arms several years ago, and now shoots wildlife with a camera.
Photo Titles:
1. The writer with the man-eater of Lakhimpur shot in 1958. It is now preserved in his home.
2. The writer in 1969 with his first “kill”, a chinkara (Indian Gazelle).
May 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)