How cold can it get? So cold that tears are freezing in the eyes. So cold that the clothes you are wearing are actual skins of animals.even the lowest wind is a splutter of snow. The ground slips beneath your feet. Life forms hide themselves. Daily activities are laboured, business has been shocked to a standstill.
Blinding! no! deafening cold! Mesmerizing cold!
And your own fiery corner. You bake, and the oven keeps you warm.The red glow of the cinder adds an environment of mystery to the gray background. Window panes are fogged. Only the cocoon of warmth is the field of awareness, all else is background...
In the flour mill run by the little stream, you dip your hands in the freshly ground flour, it's warm! In the village in which the Rooster lives, with two pesky rodents, in a hut with thatched roof, & earthen pots inverted over the chimneys, Summer arrives.
The mist slowly dissolves. Mornings turn from silver to golden.
Gold is everywhere. There is an energy which spreads, not an excitement or a hustle,
a warmth, a smoothness,
from the glittering blue sky and the clear stream sparkling gold, to the fields which are rippling seas of golden wheat, to your heart and mind.
The golden sunshine filters through the green. Golden green and gray green, blue-green and olive. Canopy of towering trees, undergrowth upto your knees. Large sheety leaves rustling, tiny feathery leaves whispering. Bright green blades of grass, & dull green carpet of moss.
Little white mushrooms and huge red toadstools. It's the forest where the bear lives. Who kidnapped Masha. Who escaped by tricking him. It's on the edge of the village which turns from silver to gold every year.
I spent my childhood there. In thin Soviet story books. Which cost Rs 5. In 1991. Home is where heart is.
Where heart is
Out of sight Out of mind
What matters to us today, will it still matter after 3 yrs? 4 yrs?
I wonder how a news item reaches the cold sack.Is it because the legal proceeding come to halt? Because new developments in the case become infrequent? Because ‘the public’ loses interest? Because all scandal value of the issue has been wrung out?
Or is it simply that news has an expiry date?
I simply want to know, what happened of the Satyendra Nath Dubey, & B. Manjunathan cases.
Sure enough, the news is there, the hoopla is not. On searching, one will come across a lot.
Firstly, a blog has been established in each case. Anyone who cares may add their comments, condolences, outrage.
http://manjunathshanmugam.blogspot.com/#pressLink
http://www.rediff.com/news/dubey.htm
The families had met , to participate in “India Empowered: Roadmap for Tomorrow” conclave of The Indian Express.
The killings, in part, influenced Jayashree JN to start an awareness & activism campaign, http://fightcorruption.wikidot.com/ in March 2007 “to protect (her) whistle blower husband MN Vijayakumar”, as she unabashedly tells.
In October 2004, Satyendra Dubey was posthumously awarded the International Honesty Award by the
Manjunath Shanmugam Trust (MST), an initiative of IIM alumni, award the ‘Manjunath Integrity Award’, starting 2006.
www.manjunathshanmugamtrust.org .
Uday Chaudhary, one of the 3 accused in Satyendra Dubey murder, ran away, not once, but twice, from court premises, ridiculously, by slipping out of oversized handcuffs.
A special CBI court, a
He was shot dead on November 27, 2003, in front of the circuit house at
the government, suspecting involvement of those against whom Dubey had pointed an accusing finger in the crime, ordered a CBI probe.
CBI, however, later concluded that the whistle-blower was killed by petty criminals in the course of robbery. According to the CBI, the accused robbed Dubey and during a scuffle, Mantu Kumar shot him with a .315 country-made weapon.
Monu Mittal, main accused in Manjunath Shanmugam murder and 5 others, Devesh Agnihotri, Sanjay Awasthi, Rakesh Anand, Shivkesh Giri, Rajesh Verma, Harish Mishra and Vivek Sharma were given life sentences on Dec 11 2009, & 2 were acquitted. On November 19, 2005, when Manjunath had gone to collect samples of adulterated petrol being sold at the outlet, he was shot by its owner Pawan alias Monu Mittal.
India doesn't have a law to protect whistleblower
Whistleblowers should be given protection in India: Lokayukta
Right to Information, State Accountability, and Wikileaks
There remains dissatisfaction regarding whether those convicted & sentenced in Satyendra Dubey murder were really those who murdered him.
Labels: Manjunath Shanmugam , News follow up , Satyendra Dubey
Frown, scowl, clench Ur teeth ... swear!
One of the passengers complained of nausea. (the car soared ... ahead... until it was obstructed abruptly. And then soared again, and so on) It was diagnosed that that's because she was facing away from the direction of journey. (This car had seats facing backwards)
Like rider, like mount! The car was conditioned & tuned to Archie's driving. On braking, it reared up, like a horse !!!
It was a model of a few years ago, Indian cars back then were not manufactured with seatbelts. & even if they were, You would need seatbelts in 3-D – also to suspend you from the hood & tie you to the floor, apart from the usual.
Indian roads are not equipped to handle Indian traffic, & thus get destroyed very fast, are too narrow, & etc., etc.
He also does the things that common Indian people do on Indian roads – You overtake from both sides, (what a shame you can't overtake through!), attend mobile calls while driving, block the left lane when you have to turn right, & then block everybody else too, crossing all the lanes (If not for the streetlamps, you'd be driving on the divider.)
However, Indian public is used to this, & those who 'ride' with Archie, are part of Indian public.
Yet.
“A casual friend, once, actually started reading aloud the Hanuman Chalisa.” Archie Blushed. “His Mom called. He told her he had made a mistake by agreeing to travel with me, & if he reached home safely, won't repeat.”
After he dismounted, he apparently asked Archie “Who are you brother? I do not know you!”
Archie is very progressive. He likes to move ahead. Wants to wriggle into any minuscule space, if it enables him to move forward an inch.
'Give him an inch & he'll take a few feet' . Even reverses if he finds a more lucrative gap just left or right of where he is. True, sometimes, in order to keep marching on, you may have to retreat a tiny bit.
Archie is as proud of his driving, as others are doubtful & suspicious.
Sometimes he is made to forgo what he loves, for others fail to appreciate his ahead-of-the-times approach!
It was my wedding time & my brother in law had his hands full. ''We need your car, but You, we keep in the luggage dikey''
Wearing the rain
Feels like a drizzle, looks like a fog ... when the spray rises from the Jog falls.
I went there in August, just hopped on to a bus without planning, bit risky, but it was such a melancholy morning...
I was chilled as soon as I stepped out. A perfect day to get lost. I asked at the booking office. The tourist buses, both state-run & private were booked full, & more importantly, already departing. I went to the Bus depot, I was quite familiar, I carried my windcheater too.
One of the tourist buses was tallying its passengers. There was a person missing, & they sold me the ticket.
On the next seat was a college girl, going on the tour with her sister & father. They were decent polite people, at once took me into their fold, without being the least intrusive ...
I hardly remember them – they were nice to be made friends,
but on certain days, You feel like just taking the rain on yourself & letting it run down your face... You do not remember people.
... People were carrying cameras. The bus made a stop for breakfast & another at a temple. All is hazy, it was a large temple with golden gateways, the girls & their father offered pooja...
There were two approaches to the Jog falls. We were above it. Like many large falls, it was a horseshoe shape, & viewing points were on both arms.
It was a day when the Sun didn't show it's face at all.
All scenes were shifty, like reflections in rippling water, only not all that clear,
All views were wet, breath was steamy, all colours had shades of smoke & mist. Grey-green, grey-blue, grey-transparent.
That fine spray which rose, when parts of streams of the water, falling over the edge, broke their flow on the jagged backside of the fall,
was sticky & a little sweet.
The lunch & snacks available there at the stalls, I considered unfit for human consumption. Lot of human beings were having them.
Every once in a while, there will be a gust of wind, & the spray-mist will lift for a few seconds, clearing the view to the frothing white waters rushing down the falls. Collective clicking of couple of hundred lenses, a sudden lighting up of a small part of the air around us, already laden with moisture, by the simultaneous flashes, a low, generic exclamation of awe.
A moment, isolated, suspended in time,
& then time is rolling again, everyone moving, this spot is covered, on to the next stop.
When the bus moves through an early evening, even the darkness is not too thick, because it is wet! Unknown woodland, unknown roads, unknown evening. No road lights. Lights inside the bus dimmed, because everyone is tired. Unknown music leaking out of someone's earphones. Wipers grinding continuously. A shop or shandy seen only after an hour. The headlight beams the only visible & distinguishable area ahead. Drumming of the drops, splashing of the tires. A ride back from 'tourist spot' through wilderness to civilization.
In the fluorescent light, everything is familiar. Everything is routine. It is not melancholy anymore.
I had a bitter fight with the houseowner for returning late at night.
