The Return of the Cactus

          I remember that the landscape of north Tamil Nadu, mainly the untrodden vast stretches of wasteland ( or are they Chasteland, simply because they remain untrodden ?) used to be overgrown with cactus – the thorny flat pulpy light green shrub, some fifty years ago. They were generally useless but for the purpose of making a layer of it at the bottom of the pit dug for planting coconut seedlings. They were good at terminating all harmful germs that might uproot the sapling.

          If I remember right it was a government move to eradicate the plant, may be for the purpose of retrieving more and more land for cultivation. It was a systematic method they followed.

          Some twenty odd years ago during the construction of my house I wanted to have some coconut trees planted at the backyard. I chose the mid-giant variety. People advised me to spread some cactus at the bottom. I searched for it in my neighbourhood but could not find any. My heart leapt back to my boyhood days when cactus had populated all porampokku lands. It was wonderful to watch the yellow coloured flowers blooming followed by bulbous fruits. The thorns are in a bunch spreading out like the spikes of a porcupine or hedgehog.

          I was terribly sorry for the disappearance of a strange variety of cactus.  Now exactly fifty years later I began to observe the reappearance of the plant. It can be seen here, there and everywhere – returning as if with a rage.  Nature’s creations cannot be totally eradicated after all. They have the knack of surviving even man’s monstrous mind. There are still some viruses and bacteria which seem to have become extinct. What, if they came back?

                                                --ooo--

  A Musing Morning Walk

After a long spell of physical inactivity owing to certain other commitments, a few days ago I strolled out for my morning walk. It was past seven and already getting warm. As I turned back to walk home down  the slight slope I saw a man , perhaps in his middle fifties, wearing a saffron dhoti and towel round his shoulders, carrying a stick with some piece of cloth knotted and spread at the top end, like Adhi Shankara, and a bag slinging down on one side, and  a small bundle of clothes on his head was coming in front.  His entire body was marked with the Vaishnavite religious mark – the trident mark with a saffron line drawn in the middle of a white U—I do not remember whether there was an extension down the U, changing it into a Y.  He had a fortnight old gray beard and his head covered with a loose cloth tucked in at the ears. I could hear him singing or mumbling something, as he walked.

 When the mendicant came up to me he stopped to ask for something; before he could open his mouth I shoved my hand into the pocket searching for some coins. He waved his hand, shook his head, and took a step backward as if horrified, and said, “ I don’t ask for money; not a beggar. I am a Gnaani. I don’t take any paisa as alm . .  . [even as he was speaking I got the fear of my life, and wondered if I had offended him, or got entangled in some unwanted argument with a maniac] I am Gnaani. I am on my pilgrimage to all temples where Lord Vishnu resides.  I have walked over thirty thousand  miles, north and south.  I was an engineer employed at Bangalore. I belong to Kaattu Mannar Koil  and am coming from there.  Yesterday evening I reached Cheyyar from the southern side, and had to stay at a Murugan temple on the bank of the river Cheyyar. I asked a boy to buy me food.  It was awful. I threw it to the dogs.”  He gave me no time to talk or interrupt. “ We Gnaanis go about singing in praise of Vishnu and keep telling stories about Vishnu we read in Puranas . . .”  I took bold and said, “ Yes I know Kaattumannar Koil; the place where Manavaala Maamuni lived. I have even visited the temple once twice”   His jaw dropped in awe and said, “ You have known about Manavala Maamuni! How great !”

Then he told me the purpose of  his stopping me. He simply wanted to know the way to Arcot, and the distance he had to travel. He asked me if I had known the Perumal temple at the outskirts of the town where he proposed to spend the night.  I told him “Yes” and assured him he could easily reach there on foot before nightfall. He said, “Thanks “ and continued his walking tour.

Now something pricked me from inside. Should I not have given him at least twenty or thirty rupees {in fact, I had some paper currencies with me then); he was after all a guest to our town; and  particularly when I remembered that he did not have a good meal the previous night?  I had walked my way a short while. I stopped and looked back   I could hear his voice reciting something. Because we were walking in opposite directions the distance had  increased. I wanted to stop him to give him some money, and to know his name. During the hesitation the distance has doubled, yet he could be seen far. I lingered and even thought I could hitchhike on a two- wheeler to him and walk back home. Incidentally I had a digital camera in my pants pocket. I could even now reach him and take a snap. Indecision increased the distance. I felt the passage of time started telling on my tummy. I even sported with the idea of taking my car and catching him up on his way, hand the money and if he agreed (I knew he wouldn’t) take him in my car and drop him at the entrance to Arcot near Delhi Gate.

He fell into the blind spot. But the memory lingered. Would he have relished the comparison to Aadhi Shankara?  Something told me he was a Jesuit-like devotee of Vishnu still pursuing Bhakti marga. He has a long way to go before he could become a Gnaani.

In my earlier blog I had mentioned about a baby's smile and cry being attributed to its remembrances of its previous birth.This is a matter of faith and I do not want to offend any one's feelings. The cry may be regarded as the only language the baby can use to communicate with the outside world; more over it is the ex-pression of instinct. It is quite often believed that smile is something that one learns from others, by imitating them. All these are moot points, I admit. However, the physical body with all its muscles, nerves and tendons are capable of certain movements which are associated with certain emotions.The face alone has more than thirty different muscles and is capable of expressing different feelings.

A sleeping baby's face may go into different 'convulsions' / movements and we associate them with certain emotions. When the baby's lips spread sideways it is the sign of smiling, even as smileys are symbols of emotions. Its giggles, sobs and other movements and sound signals may be incidental.

Do religions which do not approve of a cycle of births account for a baby' smile the same way as the others do?

This apart, what about the next birth? Has the dying man a body waiting for his soul to enter and take the next birth? This is a very tricky area where figures in the "Naadi" astrology.

Naadi is a name derived from the act of people desiring to go to such astrologers to know the cause of present sufferings,the expiation,  and what and where they would be born in the next birth.

There are at least seix seven different Naadi readings written by different 'rishis' like Nandhi, Kaushika, Agasthiyar, etc. They have different modes of presenting the matter.

The general format is to look for Index, early days, marriage, profession /occupation , and death in the present birth, and separate cantos on previous birth and the next birth. I have seen some palm leaf MSS in the form of a dialogue between Goddess Parvathi and Lord Shiva; He answers the questions she raises about an individual's life and vital events.

An astrologer of this school has at least twelve volumes relating to twelve vital aspects of life.

Let me narrate the experience of a Professor of Mathematics, a former colleague of mine, who became so much interested in finding out the reliability of the statements. When he read the chapters relating to the past life, he is saud thave bee born to a Brhmin couple in Benares, and as biy of six was drowned in theGanges, and that the poor parents had no more children and are alive there. There are some hints given as to finding their place and identity. He went all the way following the directions given and found an aged couple who had a similar tale to tell. He gave them some money and arranged free meal for a certain number of people as specified.

On another occasion when he went to inquire about the fate of a sick uncle, he was told that he had died in his house that very moment, and was born at such and such place to so and so in a certain place. Curiosity drove him to verify. Both the accounts were true. The uncle had died, and a baby had been born there.

Such accounts may be multiplied;but in a particular  case it was irresistable for me and I crossed the limits of decency and asked my visually impaired friend  how his wife accepted to such a marriage. He told me that the bride's family had consulted such Naadi astrologer and it was predicted that her future husband would be handicapped above the neck. When these people went they believed it was the right person and the marriage was arranged and they live happily blessed with chidren.

My intention is not to present a series of such incidents in support of my argument. In fact, I had read several such index texts - all written in verse form - relating to people of different ethnic groups, languages and nationalities.

When I personally visited such am astrologer he said my records were not available with him. During the search a leaflet dropped, and with his permission I took it home. You would not believe if I said that I had to use a magnifying glass to read it, and each side of the palm leaf contained sixteen lines, which certainly cannot be read at a glance.

So much for the present and I shall continue with such interesting accounts next week. Bye mdj

Rebirth. . .?

Let me narrate a few common incidents which everybody experiences at one time or another in their lives.Some instances are:

i. a baby's cry during sleep attributed to visions of previous birth, or dreams in which fox frightens.

ii. meeting someone for the first time but there is a persisting belief that you had already met him /her somewhere earlier.

iii. so with places you visit for the first time, but you have a feeling you have already seen/lived there.

iv. newspaper reports about cases of reincarnation, identifying and renewing relationships, demanding money lent in the past birth.

As a boy of five or six, I was taken to a place called Uthukkottai near Sathiyavedu, then a part of composite state of Madras Presidency. I took a jolly ride on a cycle. The water  tank, the school building with the bouganvilla - all looked so familiar.

When I went to Madras for recruitment as a College teacher I found a handsome young man in suit  talking to other candidates, while I was with some. After sometime when we introduced ourselves he said he had seen me earlier and asked if I had ever visited Hyderabad or Sagar University. "No" was my reply. I put the same questions and was surprised to learn that it was his first visit to Madras.

Earlier while studying at MCC, Madras, I read a lot about such uncanny phenomena. Though a student of literature I called on Dr C.T.Krishnamachary, Prof. of Philosophy in his house and discussed such matters. It was then I came to know of the term 'parapsychology'.

Later, years  later, many stories about reincarnation were proved to be either hoax or a serious drama, well-rehearsed and meant to make money. This explains the fourth point on the list. [ "Nadi" astrology has something interesting to add to the discussion, and I will take it up in my next blog.]

After years of cogitations I thought I hit upon an expalnation to the second and third items of the four mentioned above. I understood the way mind works at different times and places. We have to learn something about seeing without observing , and perceiving things. When you are visiting a new place eyes devour many scenes around without your actually seeing them. But eyes, like a camera, keeps registering things in mind though you have not thoughtfully noted them. When your attention turns from one thing to another you are surprised to see the scene already registered quite unconsciously in your mind.   I did not know whether this explanation was correct. The proof came a few years ago when I opened Hutchinson Dictionary of Difficult Words (in Hyderabad) my eyes caught the word PARAMNESIA, which means i.abnormality of memory, esp. forgetting of meaning of words; ii. illusion of having experienced before events which are being experienced for the first time.I was terribly satisfied.

Bye for the present, and I shall come back to you with a few more 'mysteries' and  answers to them.

Dr M.D.Jayabalan

The toad 's, p'haps, the oldest
of forms the boldest
and the coldest.

It was with the Word
Then by Mrs Adam heard
as the Sibyl voice of the rebel herd.

It hops, ftops; and with a stare
from its bulbous eyes like the hippo's
It flies through the air
quite close to your nose.

With two little humps on back
it leaps and jumps
from the wall for a spring-board
- the sickly looking toad.

Thought the skin is pale
it is quite hale
(I can't cut off the other half ' healthy'
nor its rhyme about its movement stealthy.

Now it's seen on the 'bul-bul'*
now on the cup that's brimful
now under the table or a stool
with a leg stretched like a carpenter' rule.

You blink and slink
and look back for a stick
or a long broom
while it plays in your room
hide and seek.

You sweat and fume
and your search resume
all in a hush
and out you rush.

Now it's seen in the green
bush, and seems to be gone
but will be back in the morn
from somewhere in the shrub
shooting up near the tub
and your life seems its hub.

It lets a jet of water
and forward moves faster
proving the law of Newton's
about actions and reactions.

Ah, living with the toad
You never get bored!

* bul-bul-tara  is a stringed musical instrument.

Good -Bye, Good-Bye

"Are you the son of So and So?"

came asking me a man.

"Yes, Sir, please go in and sit,"

so saying in I ran.

He was old, his head was bald,

translucent glasses worn;

torn out clothes , and worn out smile

They marked a man all torn.

I had seen such lots of them

who come oft here and say

"It is a long time since we met,

with you I'm gonna to stay."

"Full am I with fruitless years

completing age eighty;

before I die and disappear

with old friends I wish to be."

So they say and stay for days

reminding the host of past;

when host's patience fades away

they bid good-bye -  their last.

A few months later they return

singing a different song

"My wife is dead; my sons are gone .  . ."

so saying they stay long.

Whate'er they speak is flattery

Spoken with nicety.

"See, Poverty makes me live

on friends' generosity."

Thus they get ten or fifteen

with which they soon go out.

This is such a one, I thought,

and called my grandpa out.

"Hallo, how are you dear friend?"

my grandpa shakes his hands.

While he begins to introduce

with tears the man there stands.

"When I was working in a school

he was my dear friend.

He worked his way up through his life

and now at journey's end."

"Friend," speaks he, "I have a foot in grave;

Before I die I wish to see

all my friends and kith and kin.

To see you I'm happy."

He stood a while, the while eyes spoke.

Speaks he then shaking my hands,

"Glad am I to see you son;

I march to other lands."

Heart of heartS I cursed him hard,

for he might milk money.

"Good-bye, Good-bye," says he at once,

and walks out unlike many.

No words of persuasion could

deter him from his way.

A few days later sad news came

that he had passed away.

When mind was bent on repentence

my heart sent out long sighs;

when words of prayer went from mouth

a tear escaped my eyes.

----OOO000OOO---

Years after having seen aircrafts fly in the sky, I had the wonderful opportunity of taking my first flight to Mumbai. To fly in the sky at such a great height for an hour or more had been my dream. When we were seated and the seat belts were tied around the engione gathered momentum and we were on the gradient and while the plane took a turn at an acute angle we could see Chennai in the evening with all the glowing lights like fireflies all gathered at one tree.

A little later nothing was visible but the smooth glide of the plane was suddenly interrrupted by too many bumps for a minute or so, reminding me of my daily bus travel to the Engineering College located in a village, over a road which had cracked and broken at many points. I wondered if there was no escape from my routine ordeal. I really did not why the aircraft made thesmall jerks. May be it was sucking in clouds. I do not know.

After a tenday stay I was returning to Chennai. This time at midday. I really wanted to have a look at the earth from such a great height. What struck me as most surprising is the appearance of certain clouds which had piled up into a great height of the Himalayas. It shattered my expectation that clouds would be thick but horizontally layered. This was a vertical heap. This time there was no pump. It was smooth.
As I was sitting close to the wings I could see the wings slightly shaking, giving me the feelings what would happen if it tore away.

It was really a wonderful experience that every one should experience and feel how the earth looks beneath and take a bird's eyeview.

 

The New Year

dates have lost their days
and weeks their months
but friendly reminders of
"Happy New Year"
punctuate the passage of Time
with a dot and a cap
marking an ending and a beginning
and wake me into a region
of no-light- and -no -darkness

I ope' mine eyes
and look around to find
the new-born slough
of the old Time Snake, wily,
vilely, hanging from a fissure
in the garden wall
calling to mind the growing crack
in my central hall

At a closer look I find
three, four hundred checks
interspersed with bars
a dozen or more

I close my eyes and wait
for the twilight to clear
and the sanke to appear
marking the birth of a day
or night

I see I live and now I die
Life is an alias of Death
and living an alibi.

For a change I thought I could insert a few of my verses, particularly after reading some by Zeus.

Potter's Wheel?

For me
 the Wheel of Fortune turns
horizontally

no dunes or downs
no rise or fall
but a whirl of monotony

the level career
of a sandwiched tier
of socio-economy

*****

Consubstantiation

To those--
that eat of my dirty flesh
and drink of my sordid blood --
to those
flies of the house
and mosquitoes
I am Lord  Jesus.

****

Never ever copy, either intentionally or even unintentionally during exams. All teachers have been saying this repeatedly, but I wonder if students take this advice seriously. Let me tell you of my experience.

I was  really not interested in copying, for one thing my father, himself a teacher had always advised me; and I also feared that I might be caught. More than all these I did not believe in it.

It so happened at my post-matric, pre-university exams. Maths was the paper. A student of general maths in school, I feared that I would not fare well in Algebra, trigonometry and analytical geometry.

I had done my paper fairly well. The boy sitting in front for no reason held up his answer paper spread fool'scap, I casually looked at the paper. I had always believed he knew better maths for he had studied Composite maths at school. I saw a problem in analytical geometry equated to zero by him in a different way. I knew I was right. But this excess faith in his knowledge impelled me to strike out my answer and do it the way he had done. HE WAS WRONG, AND I HAD TO WASTE ONE YEAR.

Be confident. Trust yourself, and never be misled by others. That is why I also advise NEVER LOOK AT YOUR NIGHBOUR'S PAPERS.  ---M.D.Jayabalan