The Why and the Wherefore

Friend of mine whom I respect says to me: 'No one's going to read your blog, unless you link it with other blogs.' Gets me thinking - why do I write at all?
Simple: many years hence, Asha, my grandchild, will read these blogs and she will know what I think about various things. A voice from the past but very strong and vibrant, I hope, giving her a counterpoint to her ideas, and reminding her of a grandmother who knew she was the greatest blessing ever.
I've been gone walkabout pretty much the whole of last month, in places where there were no internet connections and no computers to provide a diversion. Good places to just sit and think.
South Africa is a place I cannot figure out. Where I was in White River, the view out of the back veranda was breath-taking. Undulating veld with Cacia and avocado trees breaking up the landscape, stretching out to the faraway roads, on which the 'backies' (vans) and lorries rolled past.
Colour is now not a barrier legally, but the house staff are still all black. I am told there are poor whites in SA these days but I did not see them. The households being evicted from their slum dwellings are all black. Though the Government is theoretically on their side. For some eighteen years now.
In another eighteen years, when Asha is an adult of twenty-five, will the world have shaken and settled, like a kaleidoscope? Or will she inherit a world still striving for balance and an environment destroyed by rabid consumerism?
I am glad she spent her early infancy in Africa and is totally colour blind about people. What a gift that was!

NHS and the OLD

Today I phoned my dentist - a rogue tooth that is keeping me awake in the night... I was told the NHS dentist was only available on Fridays. It would cost £55 for an examination as a private patient and extra for treatment - about £120 for a filling.
     Right! So, if I cannot afford the cost, go away, find a hole in a corner, and suffer. I went round the house and decided if I scraped up all the fifty pences I had been saving up, maybe I could get treated today. But bile rises.
     So I decided to leave it till the NHS dentist was available. However, what if a pensioner is in excruciating pain? Grin and add it to all the other indignities of old age?
     What happened to that caring Britain where the doctor or dentist was actually available at point of need and without having to count your pennies?
     In the next general election, I hope pensioners will support the party that cares for them. I have decided to join Labour today.
     You will have me door-stepping in 2015. Or sooner if we can get rid of the Coalition colluders.
     Grandmas of the World Unite! We have nothing to lose but our false teeth.

The Unmentionable

There is a topic which is banned in civilized society in the UK. No - not sex, not adultery, not avarice. It's age, ageing, age-related illnesses... You never ask a person their age and you do not mention yours. It's like dying before you die.
   It is contagious: in recent times the disease has spread to India. I know a few of my contemporaries there who dodge that topic with great skill and speed. I feel like that enfant terrible' who does not know when to shut up.The same people would ask you your salary without blinking an eyelid.
   Reminds me of a boss of mine in the British Council. Two years before he was due to retire he began fretting.
'What am I going to do, Anand?' he moaned, often and loud.
'Don't you have hobbies,?' I'd ask. I couldn't fathom his deep anguish. This is the problem - nobody knows anything about age till they get there. And the talents (biblical) haven't been garnered, multiplied to see you through the fallow years.
I will never have time to read all the books I want to read - too many good ones coming out these days. Especially this year.
And when will I write all those books in my head? Considering how lazy I am.

I've now been retired for thirteen years and I can't find the time to do all the things I want to do. Before I die. There I've said the word. It is quite harmless.

Cricketers in Hiding

Football - much safer to watch with my clan, in the sitting room. No conflicts there. Liverpool is playing disastrously, my daughter says - I agree. We support Liverpool and they have been down the spout for a while now. Carroll is a £ one-million buy, not thirty, she moans. Well, 4 -1 defeat by Totters says more about the whole team, not just Carroll. What do I know? She wants neither Man U nor Chelsea to win the game that is going on. So a draw? I ask. No, she wants Man U to be beaten because they are top of the league right now. Oh Boy! The girl's got her knickers - and her socks - in a twist.

Now the last one -day game of cricket, India against England, was another matter. India lost after chalking up 303. That requires real dedication and committed bad bowling. And where are they hiding? Bajji, Khan, all those stalwarts. Never mind, I tell myself. India probably needed a lesson in humility. May be me too.

But - Selectors, India is humungous. There must be good bowlers there if you could just look beyond the usual haunts - the top colleges and schools. Try my village, Kodiyeri, next time. Or even Cunnore if you must stick to the A roads.

The fish food is really good there, I am told.

Judge in Haste

Two men sentenced to four years each for Facebook posts. Four years! How many years does anyone actually get for rape, hit-and-run or burglary?? Would it not have been more appropriate to give lighter sentences plus a period of community service?

The poor and the hopeless riot - generally, but not always. Rich boys get away with blue murder in the name of 'boyish pranks.'

And how about the unholy haste with which the sentences were passed? I am uneasy at the way the judges are reacting to the general unrest/ political pressure? Punishment should suit the crime, not the occasion when it happened. Is there precedence for this heavy tilt of the judicial balance? Who is leaning on it?

I am totally against any person who causes disorder in the community, who loots, sets fire and laughs while he/ she does it. I believe in Gandhian non-violence, almost as a matter of my DNA. But ...

Civil rights groups have to be very VERY vigilant in times of social upheaval - so that governments do not take the opportunity to slip through draconian legislation, to punish beyond the offense... Where are you lot hiding, human rights advocates? Chakrabarthy, now is the time to speak up.

Are we, in our general state of apprehension handing over our precious rights, to a government, only too eager to be given an excuse to be autocratic?

The Norman Tebbit Line

The Norman Tebbit line passes through the middle of my living room when India plays England at Cricket. Especially when it is a Test Match, as we have not yet elevated the other lesser forms such as one-dayers to full Cricket status. On this we are in agreement, my daughter and I - Tests Cricket Rules, O K.

Shouting at each other across the coffee table is fine. But yesterday was more vocal than usual. India did not act in the spirit of the divine game when Bell was 'baled' out, she sulks. Only the colonies actually respect the Cricket spirit, I retaliate.

Which year was that spirit distilled? I wonder, and was it before or after sledging evolved into a full art-form? And match - fixing? Mmm...

When the wickets stumbled yesterday like over-ripe mangoes from a Kerala mango tree, I was seriously thinking of changing sides, crossing the floor... After all I have lived in England for ever, it seems. Holidays in India are minor, quickly forgotten forays - or so I tell myself. As that other voice inside me cackles.

Mind you, India's performance in the last Test was not merely dismal. But - it would be a mistake to write them off. In spite of the IPL and attendant diversions, fiscal or otherwise.

GO INDIA, GO

Otherness

I was beginning to feel I had a story there about the gay man who fancied his straight best friend. I called it The Other Side of Hope. In my story the two lived in a one-bed flat and shared the one bed. Happens in India and in Africa all the time.

When I taught Secondary School here in the UK, I was surprised to see how carefully the boys avoided shows of affection to each other. Nothing touchy - feely here. Then I went to Makeni in Sierra Leone.

On the first day of College I watched from my front window of the campus flat as the men and women walked in to lectures. Some had one arm carelessly thrown around a friend while the other hugged a pile of books. It gave me a warm, familiar feeling.

Yesterday I took my short story to my Writers' Group. Big learning experience for me, that! They made it abundantly clear that two men would not sleep on the same bed, ever,unless they were sexual partners. How long have I lived in this country! And I don't know that.

Made me think how little English people must know about my culture. They have not even lived in India.

Another reason to keep on writing my novels about Kerala.