Monthly Archives: October 2009

Advocacy on capital Punishment


Ever since there has been life, taking life existing in the animal planet. Animals show their pride and power to the group by defeating the challenger which often involves in the death of the opponent. Humans challenged and won battles over land, kingdoms and women. There too, the victory went to the side of most killings. The one who was able to finish off the enemy soldiers was the winner. In the barbarian society of our past, death was considered to be a brave deed among nobles and war chiefs. In that society, fighting for something we love and honor and giving life was a martyr act.

I remember the famous phrase – “Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once”, from Shakespeare . The ideology was clear. The death is an inevitable end. When and how to hug it was the choice given to each and everyone. The choices decided whether one will be hailed as a warrior or coward. between these principles, The choice to live and die through a beautiful life. I agree to the facts that the history reminds of many a situations where swords were taken to make sure a beautiful life to the future. But how can I justify my soul, thinking about hundreds of souls who were lined up in front of  guillotine, waiting for their turn to have head separated from their body. Yes, I am speaking of the French revolution. The family and related men, women and children of aristocracy were beheaded. The faces of children watching the piles of heads, and waiting to have their heads to be part of that pile, is the most animus behaviour of  humans. Well, the cruelty that  peasant of France had to face from the ruling families were brutal and unexplainable. But, the punishment to that cruel deeds is again a capital punishment? How could the children be part of the greediness of adults?I would have suggested on emptying that rise of anger and revenge on the aristocracy by the propaganda must be handled in a more justifiable way in history.

To prevent the scarcity and wastage of bullets, two men were tied together side by side and were made to stand on a bridge railing and one was shot on head. The other was supposed to die by the drowning by the corpse weight. Wondered by the Logic? Well, this was implemented by the withdrawing German soldiers from Poland. How can you justify this?Oops, I am going off topic. Let me rephrase. My question is how death or killing be the criteria to prove the worth or punish an offence. I believe humans are on the highest point of social civilization. Though not the entire population, but the governing body of majority of the countries have the mentioned quality to understand the logic. The logic of deciding the death sentence as the ultimate justice. i just wonder , if that logic change for the entire human race by a blink, how many billions of Dollars could be saved for humanitarian purpose?

Another concern of mine is the judicial capital punishment. For most unforgivable crimes, capital punishment are awarded. WOW, I liked that term awarded. An award for the cruelty of a life time, or cruelties of a life time. May I ask? Is this punishment the best award could give to such poisoned soul. Based on the crime they have committed, death is the most satisfying end to their dirty life. I believe in those cases, Judiciary must forget the humanitarian concern to animal souls. Well, the question that so called white hearts in society may ask is in that case, what is the difference between  them and us? well, giving capital punishment is same as the age old power proving techniques. the best punishment that could be given to any convict is denying him/her all that he likes, that he/she could have enjoyed if there were not convicts. This life long detainment will let him think about his past and criticize his present.

If you have watched the movie “The Shawshank redemption”, you may remember the words of the character Red, played by Morgan Freeman at the time of his parole interview.

” There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret. Not because I’m in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can’t. That kid’s long gone and this old man is all that’s left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It’s just a bullshit word. “

Advertisements

St Jude School and Memories – Part 1


Many say I am bit nostalgic about past. Yes, I am. I feel proud of all the memories I have. I believe, without memories, whether good or bad, the very existence of human race can be challenged. The memories are the key to our past, the cradle of our present  and hope of our future. And the school life has given me a lot of memories to share. Today, I am onto my first school : St Jude School, killipalam.

St Jude School and Church

St Jude School and Church

I joined St Jude school at the age of 4. The very first days of  the world experience outside my mother’s safe hands. I had my kinder garden for one year, before I joined St Jude. That was in Gandhi memorial pre school. At those days, I was quite afraid and cried a lot in the early days. I still remember the very first day at Gandhi memorial. My uncle dropped me to the school. At first, I was very excited about the prospect of joining the school. The excitement was generated in me by my mother who gave all the dreams of new friends, teachers, games, cartoons etc. But when Uncle left me in the school compound and the grilled door shut between us, it was too much for me. I joined the chorus of my classmates, crying at the top of my voice: My uncle still mentions about that scene quite often.

But when I joined St Jude, I was more matured enough for not crying on the very first day. But I knew the pain in holding that mild weep between the breath. I don’t remember much about the LKG or the lower kinder garden. All I remember is standing for the morning prayers and the after noon sleep on the bench. I was very curious then. During the morning prayers, when all stand, I used to turn and watch everyone’s faces. I was eagered to know how each one of them hold the hands during prayer. I wondered why everyone has their own way of prayers. Some folded their hands, some drew cross on their chest. Then, I didn’t know the boundaries drawn by religion. I didn’t knew I was not born as a human, but a caste and religious symbol. I didn’t know that more than recognising myself as a boy or girl or by my name, I was also identified based on the caste and religion by the so called society.

During my UKG or the Upper Kinder garden, I remember the name Jijo, who was the guy who sits adjacent to me. During the after noon mandatory sleep hours on the bench,we used to do all the kind of nasty stuffs possible without detection of teacher. We used to draw under the desk, play with pencil box, all I could remember off. Another stuff, I remember of that year is the small space in the wall at the entrance of the school. During the disperse at the evening, we form a queue at the school entrance. Near the door, there is this tiny space which could easily fit a small kid. I used to hide there till 2nd standard while standing in the queue. I enjoyed myself contained in that small space. After that, I no longer fit in that space. I also remember now, the Ayahs or the care takers in the school, who served the milk from our milk bottles in the colourful plastic glasses kept at school during the interval. But I prefered to sip my milk straight from the milk bottle, sent to me by the father who was in army then.

With the entry of Ist standard marked a new begining in the long path of my education. Keep reading the rest in my next blog post.

When is it better to be sorry than safe?

Music brings back the memories


Music has a charm. It could make you dream, remember and fantasise. This is the main reason, that for every celebrations,entertainments and amusements, we have the back ground score ticking, The essence of music fills the gap produced by the silence. And the melody that fills the air, just takes us through to another world.

We hear different songs, genre everyday. But some music heard at a right moment in life stays hibernated in the memory, for a very long time. When that song or note is heard again, your time just leaps to that very first moment. I had the same feeling today, when I heard the album’Colonial Cousins’ in the morning,

When I was 13 years old, I heard this song for the first time. Till then, all songs I used to hear was malayalam songs and often the rocking MJ and ‘Air Supply’. But the english songs never caught my attention. In Colonial Cousins, Hariharan and Lezzie Lewis has made good blend for Indian classical music, western beats and a well written lyrics. The teenager in me was caught up in the electric guitar notes, the natural sounds used in the album and the sweet lyrics. When the feeling of love blossomed in me for the very first time , I had the song “Looking to your eyes” from this album humming all inside my heart. I dont what was my interpretation of love at that age,but all I felt was I cared for someone at that time. But It took me to get more matured to understand that love is a mutual shared feeling than a one sided drama. I will go into it at a later post-“The first feeling of Love”. But for now, The songs of colonial cousins, dragged me back to the childhood and now cherishing the sweet memories through the melody that flowed from the cassette player of my uncle to my little heart years ago.

Desert Flower – Waris Dirie


I came across a biographical article by Waris Dirie – ‘Desert Flower‘. Waris Dirie is  a supermodel whose was born in Somalia. The short story just gave me chills. For the first time in my life, I came to know about the age old cruel practise in african countries among the women, the infibulation. It is exactly the opposite to the male circumcision followed by the muslim community.

I was purely melting away, reading the pain and the agony faced by Waris in her childhood. the path that made her grow to the top of the society, made her voice so loud and clear to tell the world about her past, the past, present and still the cruel future every human female born into the wild cradle of Africa. I was touched by her childish ignorance, the sudden exposure to truth, reality. The mutilation leaving a life long impact, that gets reminded when she goes for a piss everyday. I am aware of many cruel rituals that was a part of human society from over centuries. But when the rituals are just for pain and agony, that too done by parents to each of their female kid as part of their life goal, it is more bitter and unacceptable.

The practise called infibulation is based on the foolish wisdom in Somalia and surrounding african countries that there are bad things between a girl’s legs, a woman is considered dirty, over sexed and unmarriageable unless those parts–the clitoris, the labia minora, and most of the labia majora-are removed. Then the wound is stitched shut, leaving only a small opening and a scar where the genitals had been.

It chills my nerves with the very mention of it. Even today, it is followed in most of the uneducated families in Africa. And based upon the living and economic standards of the state, it accounts for majority of the population. I just wonder why the government didn’t ban such practises yet. In India, there was an age old ritual called ‘Sati’. In this, a widow was burnt alive along with her husband’s pyre. It was cruel and inhuman denying the right to live. The India Government has  banned ‘Sati’ and has declared it as a Criminal Offence. A similar act should be enacted in all places following this custom. Educating the mass is another prospect. But, I too wonder, what education can bring in, when people in those countries are starving for a day’s food.

What makes me tick


The factor of going on is not a simple one. We do everything for something.  Each act of every individual has a reason. Something, that just gets you going on.

There are many examples for it. My parents lived for my family. Their cause for each day was to see their sons in a better life than they lived through. Some live for passion. Like the painters, musicians, artists etc.  Some live for revenge. Some live for dying. Some live for each day’s food. Some live to kill, and some live not to get killed. So, what makes me tick?

My life has always been a cycle of determination and achievement. I have pressed my self on many of the desires and pushed me quite hard to get to it. My motivations are always based on my thirst for achievement. Sometimes, it was all sheer luck and blessings. Sometimes, it just happens. I was never able to explain the action, but the result was always my achievement.What I believe and understand from my life is that when I am devoid of something in my life, either taken away from me or just not provided to me, it’s gets to my wishlist. Sooner or in years, I have always succeeded in accomplishing those dreams. And those achievements has always made relish me with it with a sense of proud.

so, the clock that ticks me are my dreams. I dream, but also work on achieving that dream. Often I picture in my mind, the scenes after I achieve that dream. That makes me feel more and more boosted up on walking in my dream path. What about you? What makes you tick?

Tea wakes me up in the morning


Everyone has a startup gear. And for me,  it’s the hot tea right in my favourite cup. I am a lazy morning wake and I need something to push me from the lazy hangover to the start of the day. And the tea does it.
Most of the days,I sleep late. So, the morning is quite tired and sleepy. And the first cup of tea makes the required boost. And after that, sometimes, a few pull ups on the kitchen, makes me pumping with energy.
So, that’s my day break. I am sure all of you have something of the sort to start the day.comment me and let the Bloggerville know.

Pazhassi Raja : History retold


Yesterday, I went for the movie “Pazhassi Raja”. Released in 4 theatres in the city, this big budget film, narrates the story of Pazhassi Raja, a hero and warrior from northern kerala, who raised his voice and sword against the plunders of English East India Company. He is one of the first to proclaim that, ” People who came to trade cinnamon and pepper has no right to pass laws in our land”.

Pazhassi raja

A bit history about pazhassi Raja: When Kerala was ruled from Mysore by Tipu and Haider, their officers used to collect taxes directly from the farmers bypassing the land lords, but the British changed this and decided to collect taxes directly from the Kings and Nair Lords. The amount fixed as tax by the British was unreasonable and people did not have the capacity to pay that much. Faced with revolts from people, the kings were unable to collect the taxes.

After Tipu left, the British ignored Pazhassi Raja and gave the land to his uncle on lease. This insult also helped in triggering the revolt. Pazhassi Raja stopped collecting taxes and this upset the British. Since the king was popular, they could not do anything but stop collecting tax for a year, but to add more insult, they extended the lease given to his uncle for another five years. On June 28, 1795, Pazhassi Raja challenged the British by stopping all tax collection and giving refuge to people who were considered revolutionaries by the British.

This was followed by Guerilla warfare tactics launched from Wyanad rain forests by Pazhassi and his army harassing  the English company. finally the fire power and the dirty tactics of British company had him killed. But he lived through the history of India’s Struggle of independence as  a great martyr.

Overall, the film did justice to the history. There is no hypes or added up romance to promote the movie. The characters are strong and did their part extremely well. The sound engineering by the Oscar Winner Rasool Pookutty  out stands. The script by the great malayalam writer M T Vasudevan Nair and the eminent cast and the production team made the movie an epic for sure. There are few shortcomings in places, but I should vote for the good things in the movie and the intention of retelling an history to the modern world, where we often forget the value of freedom, free will and independence.