Redefining Horizons

  Happy New Year    May this year bring each one of you, and your loved ones, happiness, good health and a sense of safety. Being located in more than 180 different countries, we are separated by time, space, geography, and cultural backgrounds, but we are united in our quest for serious reading. Thank you for choosing to read my articles. Thank you for sharing my articles with your friends. Please use the comment section under each article published to engage in discussion and exchange thoughts on the subject discussed.  Now to the topic of the Day -  When silence prevails,  “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” “There is wisdom in silence.” “Learn to listen.” “Silence is Golden.” “Do you always have to speak?” “Can't you keep quiet?” “Why should you speak for him?” Irrespective of our nationalities, it is likely that we grew up having heard one or more of the above statements or questions. These are a few of the dictums that condit...

  A few days back, I was driving home from the neighbouring city. Seeing the painstakingly laid and beautifully crafted white line continuously snaking along like an endless work of art on the road, I asked my wife, “Saw that line?” We were negotiating a blind curve on the road. Both sides of the road had white lines clearly showing the edges. The broad line with reflectors in the middle of the road was meant to separate the traffic, and drivers are expected to keep their vehicles within their side of the line. Roads in this part of the country have many curves and gradients. They are well-marked and take on a high density of traffic. Almost all trucks on Indian roads have their rears marked with “Blow Horn” along with other funny and sometimes philosophical quotes. Unlike in the West, where honking is considered uncivil, here, signage asking drivers to ‘blow horn’ can be found along the road, across the country.  Before my wife could answer, a car, without any warning, overto...

  “Veettil Oonu,” ( വീട്ടിൽ ഊണ് ), the board outside the roadside restaurant in the town screamed. The two Malayalam words literally mean 'home food’. Everyone knows that home food is prepared and served at home. The restaurant that screamed ‘home food’ was neither home nor homely. It kept the hearth going for its owners and workers. Such boards are common along the length and breadth of Kerala. How can anyone buy ‘home food’ in a wayside restaurant? Everyone knows it is a blatant lie.  If you walk into such a restaurant hoping to eat something homely, you could be disappointed. The food they serve is a ‘meal’ sold in all restaurants across Kerala. ‘Meals,’ for the uninitiated, means an unlimited supply of rice and curry, served on a banana leaf or plate. If you thought Veettil Oonu would be cheaper than normal meals in other restaurants, maybe if you are lucky, you could be right. Anyway, people still walk in knowing that the board screams untruth. The name sells. Why are na...

  “Pigs do not know they stink,” Manju, my friend, messaged me after reading my article,  Wrestling with the Pigs . The benign comment almost exonerated pigs from culpability for the stink. The thought, she said, was brought up by her husband when they sat down to discuss my blog. He had read somewhere that “pigs do not know that they stink.” They are a kind couple. It would have been easy for them to be considerate and pardon pigs as a class for “they (pigs) know not what they do.”  I was, however, elated on two counts.  The first, another article of mine, had found space in an intellectual discussion. It felt good. The second, I detected something profound in her statement. It raised two socially relevant questions. How would pigs know they stink? What would happen if pigs knew they stank?  How would pigs know they stink? There could be two ways. Either the pig itself realises that it stinks, or another pig calls it out. Both can happen only if pigs themselves...

  Wrestle with the pigs?  Yes. What happens if you do? “You both get dirty, and the Pig likes it.” George Bernard Shaw.   Would anyone do that? Most of us do.    Why would anyone do that? Well, it is in our nature to do that. Despite my resolve not to, I almost got into the pit yesterday.    My school had a piggery. The place had an offensive stink that reached far beyond its walls. It was there that I saw pigs for the first time. The piglets looked cute, ate a lot, and grew up into huge pink pigs. I knew they would end up on our plates sometime and felt bad for them. Nevertheless, I relished pork.    One fine day, I came across George Orwell ’s all-time classic, The Animal Farm , and read it. Unaware that the book was a political satire about the Russian Revolution and the rise of the Soviet Union , it led me to consider pigs as ruthlessly manipulative, cunning, and wily. I visited the piggery once or twice after that and tried to identify N...

  “Kundil Veena Chundeli” is in Malayalam and means “mouse that fell in a ditch . “History repeats itself” is an idiom that finds frequent mention nowadays. Both sides, especially in animated television discussions that become no-holds-barred debates, use it at will. The events that unfold daily across the world somehow give me the impression that the contemporary is often a repetition of the past, and we, in our own little ways, are all part of this great drama. To make things clearer, let me share a Malayalam story I learned as a child in the second or third grade. The story seems to repeat endlessly, though the characters keep changing. Let me narrate the story, giving it a contemporary flavour. The story Once upon a time, a mouse landed up in a kitchen in search of food. Without much problem, he found two “ neyyappams ” (a Malayali sweet and my childhood favourite) wrapped in a newspaper. Without waiting to eat, he picked up the packet and walked. He wanted to reach h...