OZYMANDIAS

For I am very busy during this week, I thought I will share the brilliant words of Shelley, which creates a tangible mental picture of the transience of human existence. Why this one-upmanship and struggle among mankind?

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822

Keystone of life

In one of my rare contemplative moments, a rather innocuous question flashed across my mind. What is that universal emotion that is the keystone of existence? Unknowingly, I spent several of my waking moments in the following weeks brooding on that single question. The more I thought about it, the more the answer eluded me.

It was on a lazy summer afternoon, after a sumptuous meal, I was gazing meaninglessly at the street below my apartment from the balcony, that I had thought that my persistent thought had borne result and I was about to conclude that the basis of all life, man included, was love, when an interesting scene enacted right in front of a barber shop across the street caught my attention. It was a dog. The street mongrel was snarling at something, which looked like a cat, terrifying it out of its wits. At that precise moment, a boy threw a stone at it, which caught the canine predator unawares and as the missile struck its soft belly, it let out howl and ran for cover. Then all of a sudden a huge man walked out of the shop and caught the boy by his ear and slapped him. Suddenly the victorious boy seemed to me to be very vulnerable as he cried inconsolably and loud. Perhaps on hearing his helpless heart rending cries, his mother came out of their house, heaping abuse at the barber for having hurt her innocent child. The barber had obviously not anticipated this turn of events, was shocked and was profusely apologetic. The gallant mother picked up her desolate son, kissed and hugged him, as she retraced her steps to her home. Pre-occupied as she was with her wronged son, she unknowingly stepped on the cat, which let out a loud cry just to let the world know of its existence. In the process the cat startled her tormentor, who blindly ran a few paces and then slowly turned to comprehend what-on-earth had scared her out of her life.

I was observing all these little ‘accidents’ with nonchalance, a trait which I deliberately cultivated to suit my image as a budding author. I would use this episode in one of my works, I told myself, as I returned to the book I was holding in my hand. No sooner did I open it, a large brown cockroach jumped out of it, taking me by surprise. In a sense of revulsion, I threw the book down and almost jumped out of the chair. The cockroach, perhaps a yet-to-be pregnant female, decided that it was safer to be away from me and flew away to rest on the shoulders of my little nephew, Shankar who was playing nearby. He, who was still learning the tricks of human living, by instinct and by observation, promptly put it in his mouth. Realizing that this "date-fruit” tasted badly, he spat it out and with a sense of trepidation cried out for his mother. He had committed a grave error and instinctively knew that he would be chastised for his indolence.

I was a little unprepared for the sudden personal turn that the little chain of ‘accidents’ was taking. My mother who was till then blissfully enjoying her afternoon siesta entered the balcony. I was fearfully sure that the entire scene would be obviously unpleasant even to her bleary eyes- a heavy son precariously perched on the hand rest of a small chair, a crying grandson and a semi-chewed cockroach.

Even as my mind raced to find excuses to extricate myself from any accusation of dereliction of duty in minding my otherwise silent and self-assured nephew, I sensed a mysterious voice ring in my mind-“Son, the keystone of life is not love, it is fear.”

----Neelakantan Parameswaran

18^th May 2006, Chennai

HERO-ism

In the conventional sense it was not a dramatic event. However, for some strange reason, it has remained etched in my memory. I was in Class 4 then. That year, we had just graduated to using pens for school work. It was something novel and enigmatic. I had borrowed a new fountain pen from my best friend at that time, not just any writing implement it was a ‘Hero’.

Chinese pens those days were not as easy on the pocket as they are today. My friend, Pravin had been proud to use it. So I too was a little surprised when he lent it to me without hesitation. So I cast my humble pen aside and started using the borrowed one, with a sort of satisfaction and pride one normally associates with an owner. Then, the most unexpected event happened. Several years later, I still have no clue as to how it occurred. The smooth surfaced pen slipped from my slender fingers and nose dived to the hard floor, much like the several unsuccessful rockets dispatched from Sriharikota. So much for Chinese Aero-dynamics, I could not but help thinking.

My valiant attempts to prevent the inevitable failed and the Hero crashed head on with the unyielding floor. My heart sank to depths lower than the rockets that had failed. As I picked it from the floor, my thumping heart summoned all the gods to my rescue and I prayed hard that the sturdy Chinese warrior was unharmed. After all, it was a Chinese pen; it was a Hero and was meant to be sturdy. The rationalist in me awoke. The nib hardly butted out of the pen and the pressure on the nib is absorbed by the hood and so it was not likely to be hurt. Perhaps it might just suffer a few indiscernible scratches on its glowing skin. May be Pravin will not notice it. May be this and may be that.

With these confusing thoughts, my trembling fingers picked up the pen. My lips were uttering an incomprehensible prayer. The nib was gnarled beyond recognition, the dreaded had happened. How was I going to face my best friend? My heart sank as my young brain started to weigh the limited options that I had. All those protectors whom I beseeched to pull me out of my misery seemed to have turned inimical. Suddenly my prayers dried up and my eyes swelled with tears. What if my best friend chose to change his best friend after this? The world came to a grinding halt. If any thing weighed more than that pen that day, then it was my heart. What would my father say? He was already sick of my clumsiness. How do I go to the bus station and when was the next bus out of town? There were more questions and no answers at all.

I decided to let my destiny take its toll. With a morbid fear of the unknown, I turned to Pravin who was deeply engrossed in the class. I nudged him and as words failed me, I just held up his dear pen up to him. My entire future rested on his next move and so my eyes were fixed on his lips. But my message came from his eyes, which first showed shock and then a fear that I faintly recognize now as being no different from mine. And he uttered the dreaded words, “What have you done? My dad’s going to skin me.” It was no solace to me that I was going to have company when I was to be punished for my crime.

“Does it write?” he asked me. In that brief moment, when my world had ceased to move, it had not even occurred to me to find out the extent of damage. I had assumed that the pen had suffered a violent death. I hurriedly scribbled out a few words. It was more like the etchings on a grave than a few deft strokes of a pen. Pessimistically, I showed the scratching to him, as I was convinced that the sunny days of my life were killed. I was taken aback by the joyous smile on his face. He loudly proclaimed, “Yahoo. It writes!” I had not expected this at all. I had indeed survived. I have survived several scars from close shaves with my destiny in the years that followed. Never did they leave a more impressible image on my psyche than the scratching of the Hero pen.

The last I heard of Pravin was that he had joined the armed forces-army or navy. I am not so sure. Reflecting on those days, I believe that he had the best quality of a soldier-to see opportunity in adversity. He is there, somewhere in the high seas or up in the mountains, but fighting a faceless enemy. And I, you may want to know, became a lawyer. I have not changed much though. I still borrow things, break them or worse still lose them. Only that I do not feel threatened any more. At least, I don’t need to pay a lawyer to defend me!

By P.Neelakantan

Advocate & Author

(Both by tragic accidents)

Trial and Terror

The last few weeks have indeed been the 'legal' era. Three high profile dignitories were convicted, in quick succession, Sanjay Dutt, Sibhu Soren and Navjot Sidhu. One of them almost snatched away the coveted death sentence. Each of those cases was different from the other. As we all could not be personally present and follow the cases in detail, the media took upon itself with reluctance ( a unabashed sense of gusto) the duty of keeping the common man informed ( biased). As a result the subtle distinctions in principles chistled by years of laborious preparation by the best legal brains over the last few centuries in UK and India, were reduced to a nought.

The cacaphonous Sidhu was convicted for Culpable Homicide; whereas the Sadhu-like Sibhu Soren was convicted for Murder. Even though, the need to try them and punish them was that they caused the death of a person, it is surprising to a lot of non-lawyers that Sidhu while striking a blow, which took Gurnam's life was infact committing a lesser crime than Soren, who plotted to kill Jha.

The problem with trial by media is that they seem to suggest

1.Sidhu was convicted for Murder, while it was not so.
2.Sanjay Dutt was acquitted, while infact only that the charges framed under TADA were not proved beyond reasonable doubt, but he was convicted under the Arms Act and could receive a longer sentence than the 3 years that Sidhu got.


What worries me is that the Media is trying a lot of other cases along side the courts of law. To those who are at the wrong end of the not-so-friendly stick, the days to come are going to be TRIAL and TERROR.

While Priyadarshini Mattoo's killer got the gallows, two more are fighting the trial in 2 courts simultaneously. In the courtroom and your drawing room. Vikas Yadav and Manu Sharma await their turn.

Detailed Analysis in my next post. Wait and read.

Ellam Tamil Edilum Tamil

History was made during the course of last week. Tamil Nadu moved within striking distance of making Tamil the most universally applied language in the state. In a rather radical change, it has been decided in principle to make Tamil, the Language of the Madras High Court.

The Judges have added a rider( more a spoke in the wheels) that the Government has to put the necessary infrastructure in place before it charges at the windmills ( English domination). I am certainly in favour of putting an end to English domination in India. Unfortunately, I am unable to agree that the official language employed in many would ever resemble the 'real' English. In other words, are we not already using Tamil in English?

Like Cut in English is Cuttu in TN. Like wise for Schoolu, Bussu, Pencilu etc.
My object of raising this issue today is not to question the wisdom of the decision. If I were to do so, I would be betraying mycontempt for these self-proclaimed Tamil Leaders, most of whom are remotely even aware that la,LLa and ZHA are three distinct sounds. I would rather bide my time, wait for the proposal to be implemented and fail, so that I could always then laugh when the common man has his retribution on a system which forces a farcical situation on him.

However, till then, I shall try and make life a little easier for the litigant, as it is going to get more difficult to communicate with your lawyer. Surely, as Tiruvalluvar said, Laugh when misery strikes. Read these and check how much you are familiar already. If you answer more than 50%, then you won't find it too tough.

1.How to address a Judge- Ganam Kortaar avargaley
2. (Grant me ) Injunction- Urutthukattalai kodukkumaaru Vendugiraen
3. Case is pending- Vazhakku Niluavail ulladu
4.Call for records- Koppugalai Varavazhaiungal
5.Plaintiff- Vaadi
6.Defendant- Prativadi
7.Witness- Satchi
8.Examination- Vicharanai
9.Cross Examination- Kurukku Vicharanai
10. Plaint- Vaadurai
11. Written Statement- Edirvadurai
12. Document- AAvanam
13. Jurisdiction- Alvarai
14.Cause of Action- Vazhaku moolam ( nothing to do with piles)
15.stay- nirutham
16.Precedent-Mun theerpugal
17.further proceedings- Male nadavadikaigal
18. assign- urimai maatru
19.provision of law- satta nilaimai
20.advocate- Vazhakuraignar ( not vazhakarignar as populalry referred)
21.Tribunal- Theerpaayam
22.Claims- Koarurimai
23Judgment- Theerpu
24.Order- Theervam
25. Appeal- Mael muraiyeetu manu


How was that? With more in next.

Horrorscopes

Jawaman has been complaining quite often of late that my blog is not active at all. So here goes a recent incident which my sister-in-law related to us last week.
As a house wife at present she seems to have a lot of time to look out for a bride for me. This pursuit led her to accompany my mother's cousin to an Astrologer, who was the best in matching horoscopes and was world- acclaimed. This aunt of ours had been referred to this great predictor,by the parents of a prospective bride for her son. They had showed him both the horoscopes and they matched tooth and nail.

However, on the fateful morning when my aunt and sister-in-law visited them, it did not seem important to mention to him about his earler opinion, while they perfunctorily handed the two horoscopes to him. Now this gentleman told them that the horoscopes did not match at all. when she confronted him with the fact that he had said that the two horoscopes had matched like the cog-wheels of a gearbox, he coolly replied.....they must have 'looked' from a different angle. he left my sis-in-law wondering what other possible angle could exist other than a possible marriage.

It is entirely a different matter that they decided not to show my horoscope to him lest he declare that it did not match with my own fate.