COMMON SENSE - LOST FOREVER???

E mails sometimes have an unknown sense of timing. Personally I am not very fond of forwards but some of them have had a telling effect on me. As I checked the inbox today the following forward from my friend found its place there quite prominently.

An Obituary printed in the London Times - Interesting and sadly rather true.

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:
                          - Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
                          - Why the early bird gets the worm;
                          - Life isn't always fair;
                          - and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion..

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

                             He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
                                          I Know My Rights
                                         I Want It Now
                                        Someone Else Is To Blame
                                        I'm A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

I found the best way of putting on notice would be to share it on the blog. The rare case of a coincidence on the very same issue rankled my brains. Yesterday, a colleague of mine was run over by a speeding car followed by a couple of vehicles who found their time more precious than another's life or limb. The irony was there was no pedestrian crossing on the busy thorough fare nearby and the closest one was also infested by the two wheelers. The obituary was there and so was the utter lack of common sense as well as the sense of humanity. The basic courtesy of pausing for a moment in honour of the departed soul was also found to be unwarranted. My friend who was unaware of these incidents had sent the above forward - a fitting one for the moment and a thought provoking one too.

May I add another line to this forward
None even bothered to spare a thought for the glorious past of the departed nor
did they contemplate the resurrection of this much wanted value - COMMON SENSE

OLDER - BUT WISER?

Shopping at malls is an experience.Live life to its full. If you have not visited a mall then well you do not deserve to live were many of the comments which nudged me to visit a supermarket in a mall. The purpose was to purchase some essentials as well as to be baptised into the mall culture lest yours truly is left in a low strata of the society. After a customary security check and wading through a sea of humans, I managed to enter the supermarket which was on par with any of the retail chains with more floor space. Chaos reigned supreme in my mind as I ventured to find the goods of my choice. Temptations to purchase was brushed aside by the price tags and the 'princely sum' I held in my pockets. Luckily, the credit card honchos could not tempt me into one lest my home would have been cluttered with all unwanted things probably!

Slowly, as I created space for myself to reach the counters of my choice, I heard the wail of a child and on looking around found a boy clad in blue jeans, a yellow t shirt and a green jacket clutching the hands of a young lad. I bent down to reach the young fellow who was well below my knee and softly told him not to cry. As I searched for a response, the young lad questioned me on my credentials. It was then that I noticed the young lad was one of the helpers at the supermarket. A small chat later I realised the boy had been lost for more than half an hour and despite he being taken around, he could not identify his guardians. Lord, blessed are the guardians of this lad. Shopping could make them forget that a kid had accompanied them. I ventured to suggest that an announcement be made to identify the guardians which the lad said had already been done. Then I told him that may be an effort should be made to announce in more than one language. He smiled and said he was trying to get the name of the lad who would do nothing but clutch the hands of the samaritan and wail.

Soon, we heard a trilingual announcement and after a good fifteen minutes later, the guardians appeared unperturbed pushing their shopping cart. The kid sprung to establish the genuineness of the claim of the strangers. While my heart walked away with the child, I could not help saluting the young responsible samaritan.

Is the attitude of the guardians of the ward the actual meaning of "cool" ? The air conditioner of course cannot be faulted for the "cool" attitude. Should the mall be blamed for such attitudes? Obviously, No. The need for the bonding over in flesh and blood than over the net or the phone is the need of the hour. Again, it is the empathy, concern and understanding that is required and not the display of emotions. Boy, am I growing too old? Maybe a poll could give the answer to the query. The other inevitable query would be whether am I growing any wiser. But this is again for the people who deal with me to decide.

DNA- A POSITIVE SALUTE

The hibernaton from blogging has done little to alter the pace of thinking. A lot of events occurred in this period but the one that really caught my attention was the India Positive campaign launched by DNA - the English daily. At a time when all insitutions in the country were denigrated and a sense of despair had crept in, the message was clear that the layman mattered the most. The media did its bit to convey the frustrating scenario in the darkest shades possible while the people who indulged in such activity only gloated over the apparent success of their endeavour to derail the ethical values. Values really matter was one of the tough things that I realised in the interim period. The neo literacy has robbed the society of basic values in life. Persons occupying seats of executive, bureaucracy and judiciary now prefer to flaunt their clout rather than seek anonymity and discharge the onerous responsibility of maintaining the pillars of democracy.
However, as DNA points not all is lost. I had the opportunity to visit the International Airport on official duty and as we were on a tour of the terminal accompanied by the protocol officer of the airport, we were politely stopped at the arrival area by a CISF jawan. Neither the badge nor the designation mattered to him. The duty entrusted was paramount and he declined permission for entry. Soon the commandant appeared. Contrary to the normal tendency of overruling a diligent subordinate and flouting the rules, he firmly stated that the area was out of bounds as per directions received. We saluted their diligence, shook hands to congratulate them for being dedicated. Our congratulations was accepted with grace.
Could we have more of the breed who have it in their DNA to know, express, explain and discharge their duties without fear or favour?

POSERS TO THE MEDIA

Media plays a role in changing perceptions on issues that confront us on a day to day basis. It is small wonder then that a person of the stature of Winston Churchill remarked that there was nothing called public opinion and only published opinion existed. Take the recent events which have hogged the limelight and prime time of most television channels and one would wonder as to what extent media could descend in its endeavour to establish its influence over the executive and the judiciary.

The 26/11 was the watershed when the people noticed the clamour of the media on the need to send a strong message to the world at large. Months before laymen had borne the brunt of the violence and had been dubbed as the spirit of the respective cities merely because the victims were mere mortals - equality means some are more equal than others.

Move over to the Prathiba case. The judgement came as a shocker to the culprit. The noose would have been better on amy day. The sentence of imprisonment till death with no option for even commutation would send shivers down the spine of any person who desires or lusts in future. Imagine the torture of leading a life in a cell lifelong and compare it to the trauma of a few days hallucinating the noose and ending with a noose. This was truly a case of Daniel having come to judgement. Understandably the kin of the respective persons were moved by the emotions on their own counts but where did the media end up in this debate?

The trauma of this victim is no less to that of that of other such victims. Has the media played a positive role in bringing to book the culprits in cases which involve lesser mortals? Should they not be taking this responsibility? Should they not be highlighting the excellent work done by some in their respecive fields while baying for the blood of the culprits? Questions which media should sit and ponder over.

SEASONS AND THEIR PLAY

Seasons of time and seasons of life have been eternally intertwined by illustrious poets. The day was one of remembrance of the Father of the nation. October second had dawned and even as I had just finished my breakfast with a sweet to top it, the telephone rang incessantly. As I diligently picked the receiver, I found the young man at the other end having mixed feelings of joy as well as expectations. He enquired about me and sought an assurance that I would not laugh at the news he was about to share. There was an inkling that this young man who had been married for about 10 months would in all probability be telling me that he would soon be a father. However, I chose caution over valour and handed him the solemn assurance.

Even as the assurance was handed over, he laughed and said that may be I was aware but still he would share the news with me on first person count. The news was he had become a father the previous afternoon. Apparently, he was bestowed with a healthy boy though the mother had to go through a caesarian. As I was sharing his joy, I could hear the buzz of another person trying to reach me. But I did not wish to cut short the joy and pleasure of a young father all of 26 years far from his young wife and newborn son as well as his parents. After a good half an hour of drenching in the joy of this young lad, I felt that the sweet of the morning had been well served.

Another call came in from my fried informing me that he had changed his schedule for the day and he would not be able to meet me. Empathising with his needs I deferred to his wishes and placed the receiver back.

The telephone rang again. I was a bit annoyed at the invention. Days of peace were lost, I thought to myself as I raised the receiver. It was a call from a sister of my old class mate. ( If yours truly can be old then his classmate would be no lesser ain't it?) Even as I settled down for a long chat, she reprimanded me on long telephonic chats and got down to business. She informed me that the ailing father of our mutual friend had just breathed his last and I should be by his side. Understanding the enormity of the issue I rushed to the home to offer my tributes and condolences.

The friend of ours was in an inconsolable state while his mother was in shock. I refrained from offering any words and motioned to his wife for a few words of succour. After the passage of a few minutes I found him giving vent to his grief and regrets. Taking charge, I subtly told him that he should be the pillar of strength for his bereaved mother. Soon relatives and friends came in and I left the family in their hands.

Trekking back home, I realised that nature had taught me the best lesson of the birth and death cycle. Fatherhood for one and the loss of father's shadow for another. Few days later, I found myself in a good positon to handle a delicate issue of emotions with less ado. It is obviously that the proverbs and adages were written by experienced souls.
Spring and autumn mired themselves at my place and nature had its last say for this emotional fool.

CRISIS TO SUCCESS

The print media and electronic media have spent hours at end and reams of papers to highlight the mess at the Commonwealth Games. The same people spent some more time on the enchanting opening ceremony. It was interesting to note that this had the familiar ring tones of the early nineties when the country's economy was in the doldrums followed by a spectacular rise to bring home the mortgaged gold as well as prepay some debts. The eerie feeling of a clampdown economically in the early seventies and the early part of this century was another reminder too. The common trait of both was the epicentre being Pokhran. Did not people predict the fall of the Railway monolith only to later be awed by its profitability?

Yes the Indian seismograph always means a quake is followed by a grand event. A crisis always precedes a successful endeavour. These musings only reminded me of a tale oft quoted by my friend. According to him, an American, a Japanese and an Indian represented by the legendary Sardar were being interviewed for handing over a project. After a lot of minute details being spelt out by the panel, the American sought two years to complete the project with costs in US dollars of course!!! The Japanese twittered his fingers shrinked his nostrils made airy calculations and spelt out a time of an year to complete the project at half the cost to be paid in Japanese yen. The panel had decided that the contract would be bagged by the Japanese but for ethical considerations placed the facts before the Sardar. Imagine the expressions on the face of the panel members when the Sardar posed a question instead of responding with a time frame. His answer was " What is the deadline and what is your budget?" The panel members after regaining composure queried the Sardar what he meant by this response. The Sardar non chalantly replied we Indians gear up once a deadline is nearing and can give you the same for any budget that suits you. The quality would vary according to your budget that's all.

The contract was bagged by the Sardar for two months with a shoe string budget. At the end of one month nothing had commenced. At the end of another fortnight work was picking pace. Soon the panel members hiked the budget but would not waive the time line. The contract was executed to perfection in Indian Rupees which was much lesser than any other budget. Yes given a crisis we outperform anyone.

Anyone disagreeing please reminiscence a marriage scene - if everything is fine then a crisis is created to instil the thrill but imagine the scene of a tragedy the crisis is already there and the best comes out. We have now again exhibited this trait and soon we will do so by hosting the Olympics.

FLIGHTS OF FANCY

Brahmamuhurtham was a thing to read another to savour. On the assigned day which took me to Delhi and back on the same day, I beat the auspicious moment to hasten to the airport. After the security drill and the flight to Delhi which was largely uneventful, the day's proceedings largely kept me awake. A thunderstorm towards the evening led my hosts to literally throw me lock, stock and barrel out of the building which sheltered us and hurtled towards the airport for my return sojourn. The water logging made me muse on the "commonwealth" of Bangalore and Delhi. The cab driver who richly deserved a bravery award managed to keep all of us afloat and delivered me for the return. The long day had taken its toll and beauty sleep was whispering " veni vedi vici" in my ears. The security drill was through and just to keep my eyelids open a la Mr Bean, I chose to stroll only to be tracked by the vigilant cop who checked my credentials. Thankfully, the flight was announced and after a mini seat swapping episode, I settled for a middle seat in the front with the fond hope of resting my weary body.

The take off through I was greeted by a chuckle by my young neighbour who could only get a remorseful look from me. Unlike the famed airfarers who are known for their British behaviour, the young man motioned to the screen in front and even turned it on. Helpfully, he retrieved the earphones for me. Reluctantly, I plugged it on as the pilot requested us to keep our seat belts on and the backrests erect. Finding it difficult to doze off, I chose to heed to the neighbour's suggestion and paid attention to the movie being screened. It later turned out that this was the much talked about Karthik calling Karthik. Schizophrenia has been put across in as gripping as possible with all the elements of masala thrown in. I empathised with the character in the movie and for the first time acknowledged the need for psychiatrists and psychologists in India. At the end of the sojourn, I thanked the young boy for having enlightened me on this front. He was amused as he found the movie hilarious and my serious outlook only made him guffaw.

Couple of days later, I was put through the motion of watching the much hyped 3 Idiots. I have never been a movie buff. The only thing that the movie succeeded in doing was taking me to my own school and college days. Thanks to Facebook culture, we are busy networking and holding our own tete a tetes on the times that have gone by. It also brought back memories of a short stint of mine at Hyderabad where as youngsters we had shared hostel space. The end of the movie was custom made for box office consumption. The truth is when best mates get together after a decade or two the first thing they remember is the nickname and the best days they had. The last thing on their mind is what they are in the current day.

Many of my mates would find this piece a revelation to them as much as it is to me. A person who has not really gone to town on movies, actually penning on a review of movies watched over a couple of days. Flights of fancy indeed!!!