Excerpts from a Brother's Diary

To all siblings who love and value each other.

"

8th March, 2008    

"Long ago there were a few men and a few women. Someone built a room with four walls and a door. A woman went in and it was fun to lock her there. They called the room a kitchen and a man was called her master..."

-The Wrong Genesis   

My sister at times has an emotional breakdown when people ascertain over dad’s ear that he is unfortunate to have a daughter no matter how excellent she is. My dad usually ignores them; but that does not end it all. 'The Wrong Genesis' is her diary. 

I call my sweet sister a suicide salvo for this. One who explodes herself for reasons somebody else has to accept and understand. She keeps her ear keen when I speak. She loved me; even when they told dad that he was worthy to have me and not her.

“Examples, Examples"-I shout, should make things clear to you. “You don't cry sweetheart, take it easy. I am beside you" “…You don't understand". But this time a pat on her shoulder and a warm hug did not end it all. She kept weeping.

“Tell me sib, what have I done against their wishes? When have I seemed to intimidate my dad’s pockets?? What in the world makes them look at me as a burden?? I can do things as good as you do then, why...?" her questions were meaningful enough with obvious reasons. The salt of a tear blemished with bonds as strong as cheese.

"The evening sun is beautiful sis; we‘ll visit the beach. Wash your face and pick your best dress." I wanted to take her for a twilight jaunt. There I solicit her to be partial to the sunset and then I teach her to count the stars.

"I ll drive." she slipped the key off my hand. She drives splendid, although she is only seventeen; her wink asked my recognition. Her matter of facts, her perspectives. And I often gave her enough admiration. I knew she could do things as good as I could; perhaps better- if only somebody had given her a chance to break the taboo.

" ...The Genesis embarks the gender bigotry. We were stamped as the cause of  miseries. We were coined to be born from their ribs..." 

Was that why her diary portended the Genesis? There was no point in amending her.
It points to me that Feminists are bred, not born.

She was keen in watching the vivacious sunset, dancing to the odd tune of the wind.

“...Today I changed it. I hit open the lock. I asked this woman to come out.

She was dim from the smoke and less beautiful. She sagged of the burden.And there are her daughters who had imbibed it all. Imbibed what they shouldn't have. Her nectar was uncouth, the vector herself.

Sad, they refused to come out and begged me to lock the door again.

I did; in pain; all in vain..."

I had one thought in mind.

Why are entities compared, when they cannot be chosen from ?
Why is gender discriminated when you cannot choose yours ?

   "
  

Why is gender discriminated when you cannot choose yours ? Why is then the taboo ? Comment.

Hygiene and the Conservative Indian Railway System

Dr Ramamurthy Seth has been pronouncing a lot about the H1N1 infections and what could be the most efficient way to tackle the demon’s nails. It takes me a lot of energy to comprehend the clause, looking hastily down the papers in the dawdling Indian train. The conditioned air within the chamber was not all that conditioned for a comfortable journey, but yes – it was reasonably fine. I see the statistic reports that point to the evident dwindle in the daily toll of the dreaded disease, the influenza that did more damage to what the global recession had left behind. Of course Dr Seth, we all know cleanliness and hygiene had much to do with every disease and it is always taken for granted. Nobody finds a need to discuss them seriously in medical papers these days.

Most of these trains refused my right to stay cozy on a journey; and for the same reason, I never found privilege to travel with these machines. The first class Chambers had an economic design, telling me, “Son, you are travelling in a country of Gandhian Philosophy.” Was that a joke intended? The Alappey station let the pacing Classic Machine out of the Indian novels pause, but momentary. I could see a lot of improvements at the station, none worth mentioning, because they still just managed to satisfy basic human needs.

A pity that the railways stick to the Dark Age measures to keep the station clean and running, even with a billion dollar, government owned, money vending machine  tootling with a little more than a million passengers across the length and breadth of the country at a peak hour. Was expansion all that mattered? It wasn’t very sensible to understand why the lavatory waste management system was so ancient; making this efficient, economic and reliable appliance of public transportation, a machine that defecates all along the path, irrespective of its location, speed or time.

Unfortunately, the authorities and public activists take long to recognize that the railways become serious unhygienic environments and a barter market to infections. Would it count so uneconomic a deal for the Indian democracy to initiate measures to render the Railways hygienic? Posters and sponsored awareness boards would endow with entertainment not cleanliness. It is time for a rising society to understand what hygiene means to it. Hygiene is not just a way to keep healthy. It is a status symbol.

I had been witness to an Australian tourist who dropped himself into the broad, stinging, dirt logged water channel along the Adayar station, protesting at its condition. He refused to get himself to the platform unless the authorities promised him satisfactory measures. Poor for the man, he never probably knew it would cost three hours and a quarter of his hip deep stay in the filth drench for an authority to bother about his interest, before he ventured for the adventure. Whatever he was of a social activist, I expected at least a genuine few to regret the situation at his presence. What a shame that he was left away without an offer for a shower or at the least a word of thanks for having opened their eyes! What a pity that when an alien man no related to us finds displeasure at the situation, we ourselves just walk away with napkins across the nostrils! No change has come over the Adayar Station, if it has not gone worse, discerning from my visit to Adayar a few weeks back.

It is not expected out of one of the most successful railways, to maintain the ancient lavatory system that disposes the excrement with no regulations. The machine behaves as an involuntary animal that has no control over its bowels. If incinerators turn to be convincingly uneconomic, this seriously wouldn’t be, I suggest some R&D for a control system that at least prevents the disposal at the proximity of the station. Pay per use toilets could be a good idea, provided the conservatives do not come out with red placards pointing to the fact that the government questioned their human right to pass on the bowels.

The giant gained its tempo down rural Cochin. The situations seemed to get worse. A to be metro with the most fragile sanitation and waste disposal system, the drains along the rails often shared the water ways. The easiest way to move the wastes from the slums were to pack it into the clogged drainage. Not just does this affect the slums, because it is rule that every part of this metro is a web whose stability is determined by every other part. The epicenter might never be the railways and hygiene; but the periphery of course is.

Dr Seth was expressing himself, discussing hygiene. Maybe it is an established fact; but what shields knowledge is always practice. Green House Effect and Global Warming are natural phenomenon. They would happen if all humanity had existed or not. What burns the hole is that we are accelerating it. With billion dollar projects to cut emissions and a hundred thousand dollar fines on industry management for not abiding by the rules, we could cut Global Warming marginally. But we are making no better places. It is like cutting your nails.

It wouldn’t require a global summit to discuss ways to keep your society clean. Neither of course do we want a G20 summit to discuss climate control. With China and UAE generating artificial rainfalls and fighting drought, we sit back and speak of how Mother Nature wouldn’t like it if we wrestle the drought like that. Would that again require a billion dollar venture?

Hygiene is not a right country men, hygiene is duty. When something becomes every man’s right, it forever becomes each man’s duty to himself and to others. You cannot view hygiene from any different perspective gentlemen; Love, anger and respect could be; not hygiene. It is defined by wisdom, not words.

A lot ahead at a local station in rural Palakkad, I observed someone’s good initiative; a bright pole lamp powered by a solar cell. Such little things matter a lot. They require appreciation. Maybe things would change. The eco friendly lamp lights up the intellectuality of the society, but I had be happier if I had seen the semi-automated device switched off; because no gentleman desires for a street light at this midday hour.

The art of Metastasis and a Concerned Doctor

"

"I am not worried of your tumor. We can remove it." he silently added,
"Dear, What I am concerned is of its relocation; its metastasis. It is malignant"

Silence.

"The tumor is malignant ?"

The Doctor runs his long fingers across his thick broad forehead; at least that was what he did when he was frustrated. A decade and a half of experience with cancer patients did not evade his fear for the dreaded disease and never did he get away with the frustration when he made it a point of easy note to his patient." A malignant tumor is not self-limited in its growth, is capable of invading into adjacent tissues, and may be capable of spreading to distant tissues (metastasizing) ", "Lady, you are a little late." He knew there was a cure and he knew it was not easy.

"

I remember my silence at the doctors cabin then, years ago when I was just a little boy. I thought she had fever. What else would disease mean to a twelve year old ? Aunt never escaped the clutches of the dreaded disease. The tumor in itself was curable, but the malignancy was not. It relocated every time you removed it, bringing misery to the entire system.

The system, the malignancy, the tumor.

Years after, when I got to realize the entire anecdote, and what else disease could mean, the word metastasis never spelled in style.

To me Metastasis meant many a things. Metastasis could be everywhere in a system; in your society, in a family, in a relation, in an administration, in science, in arts. And all that I could relate metastasis was to how a phenomenon relocates itself, increasing its intensity and extent.

Much to the fear of the word, I thought of how metastasis could be positive; how metastasis could be employed - and a theory struck.

It opens me to a theory where a compromise between quandary and management could easily find a solution to the undesired episode. Simply, it means that the impact of the episode be transferred from the strata of its origin to a higher strata where the management of the crisis could itself be simple. Just imagine if you could control the metastasis of a tumor? Like if you could relocate a tumor in the vital organ to a trivial organ ?
Imagine the same in a broader perspective and hence you see the society.

" The Social Metastasis "