“Let’s agree to disagree.”
“Hinduism is known for its acceptance of other faiths.”
“Tolerance is a virtue.”
“Respect others’ beliefs, do not hurt their sentiments.”
The above assertions, prescriptions and exhortations are based on a view of human condition which perpetuates the misery and malice all around us.
Facts cannot be disputed, if there be a dispute there is usually a definite way to settle the dispute. Beliefs can not be proved (otherwise they would no longer require the act of believing).
One can disagree only about whether one believes in a certain opinion or not. To disagree about facts is just madness.
Regarding what is still unknown, there are many choices, based on the importance of knowing about the matter at hand. In science one usually hypothesizes and then tests that hypothesis by experimentation. In other cases, one generalizes based on past experience and generic knowledge about the processes involved (for example, in boarding a train expecting that it will reach the destination), in still other cases, one can accept one’s ignorance and carry on.
Beliefs, in the sense I mean them, are emotional investments in certain unverifiable opinions.
It is sensible to see the cause of a belief and one’s (or another’s) emotional stake and involvement, and it is silly to just agree or disagree with it. Both agreeing and disagreeing with a belief leave intact the process of belief and emotional vulnerability, and perpetuate the sense of a separated identity with its opinions and subjectivity.
Accepting or agreeing with another’s faith is foolish. It might make the other feel better, but what has been accomplished? Instead of enquiring into the facts of the matter, the available evidence and its implications, one reacts emotionally (for example, following the hoary adage that “you may win the argument, but you have lost a friend.”) instead of rationally.
Isn’t it evident when two people are arguing about a metaphysical belief, that they are not at all concerned about the facts or the truth of the matter, and that their aim is merely to forcefully and wittily present their case and to convince the other person by every kind of manipulation? Isn’t it evident that the parties have an emotional stake in the matter? A “heated” debate tinged with anxiety, agitation and pugnacity surely indicates that feelings are involved.
In a similar vein, tolerating other faiths and superstitions might be great for a facile harmony and a temporary truce but the very fact that there is a phenomenon requiring tolerance makes it obvious that it somehow pinches oneself. What is the need to tolerate something if it is of no consequence to oneself? The very need of tolerance, patience and equanimity indicate that the basis of antipathy is alive. Merely applying these cover-ups over an essentially malicious nature accomplishes at best a tense equilibrium.
One frequently reads about peoples’ religious sentiments getting hurt, judges issuing restraining orders on the publication of a book or on the screening of a movie on the grounds that it offends the public morality or sensibilities.
While to allow otherwise in animals masquerading as intelligent human beings would be an invitation to civil war, one must look into whether tolerance and acceptance of diverging beliefs is a lasting solution for human peace.
Tolerance is not a virtue, it is only suppression and control of one’s aggression.
Agreeing to disagree might keep alive a friendship, but it also keeps alive the identities involved. Without an identity within, friendship and animosity both are seen as the need-based psychic relationships that they are.
If somebody is psychologically hurt by a word or a statement or an act, then the full and square blame for this hurt lies with the aggrieved party. The other may or may not be malicious in its provocations, but it is certainly up to oneself to not get affected by them.
Nobody is responsible for your psychic suffering and for your happiness than you yourself. To ask others to be sensitive to yourself or to your feelings is to abdicate this responsibility.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
On Bringing a Child Into the World
What urges are involved in having or not having a child in the modern world? And what are the implications of having a child?
This is a monologue based on observation, not on personal experience.
Of the instincts or pressures which lead one to procreation, first and foremost is the biological imperative to continue the genetic flow. The basic purpose of life, birth and reproduction for human beings is the propagation of genes. This instinct is extremely deep rooted and hard to consciously investigate.
This urge manifests itself as the ideal of mother and care-giver as the ultimate role for a woman, and as a provider and a mentor as the ultimate role for a man.
As a woman turns 30, she becomes worried that as a reproductive entity, her time is limited. The pressure to become a mother becomes increasingly more insistent after this age. Probably she has experienced love, intimacy and marriage by this age. Motherhood, however, still remains a fresh territory which she would not want to remain off for very long.
Coupled with this inner pressure is the pressure from others. Friends and family are curious as to why the couple is not taking the next step, whether there is a physical reason, whether there is some emotional problem or lack of love and so on. A woman or man would be called selfish for not wanting to have a child, as it would be perceived that their own freedom is more important to them than their "natural drive" to bring and nurture another life in the world.
The parents of the couple would express their need to see their grandchildren. Bringing up one's children is an anxiety-ridden process for most, but bringing up grandchildren can be a pleasant chore at a stage in life when nobody else needs you. Grandparents are usually more accepting, tolerant and loving to kids than the kids' own parents. And of course, seeing one's clan propagated can give a peculiar pleasure.
Fear of loneliness and age-related degeneration is also a major factor in having a baby. In most human societies, children take care of their parents or their grandparents (to various extents). If a child is born when a couple is around 30, nearly 50 years will pass before the parents themselves reach the age where they need physical care. It is not too realistic to expect a son who is fifty (or a daughter, who has her own family) to care for oneself when one is eighty. And even the grandchildren will be having their own life by then. Hence, this need is seldom met properly by one's children or grandchildren. At most, they can provide financial or emotional support or allow the parents to live with them in the same home and take care of their basic needs.
For poor people who have no significant savings, having children is an insurance against starvation and abandonment in old age (or when they are incapacitated).
Another pragmatic reason for having a child (for the reasonably well-off) is to have a heir for the property and wealth accumulated (or inherited) during one's life. One would obviously like one's "own" to make use of the property and wealth that one has.
Frequently, this expectation of care from one's children and this dangled carrot of inheritance causes messy disputes, lawsuits, resentment, petty politics and infighting in an extended family.
There are other reasons for having a child which are emotional and which can prove stronger than pragmatic considerations.
When a couple has been through three or four years of marriage, a state of meaninglessness, ennui or boredom sets in with hardly anything fresh to look forward to in life. A child can provide a welcome relief from this state. It can provide a goal, a meaning to one's life, a reason to live, a reason to be happy or sad, a way for the self and the feelings to re-emerge and express themselves.
And, especially in modern times, as a couple grows into marriage, a child can be a means to cement the emotional bond between the parents. The child can be a device to bring back a oneness of purpose in the life of the parents. A man who does not like to come home early from work, will often do so because he enjoys the company and affection of the child. A woman will value the presence of the father more now that there is a child who needs both of them (as the father assumes the role of the bread-winner whereas the mother is the primary care-giver for the baby).
There is always something to be done in a home with a child, hence boredom (or having nothing to do) is temporarily banished. However, the constant effort of caring for the child (for a nuclear family) can be overwhelming, frustrating and an enclosing activity. One has little time to pursue one's own interests, to eat out, to travel etc. (more on this later)
A child is totally dependant on its parents. This can provide a feeling of gratification for them (especially for the mother). "I am important for somebody", "I am someone's mother or father", "My child needs me more than anything else", such thoughts and the associated feelings can provide a great deal of nourishment to the self. Many people report a wordlessly intense experience as they hold their child in their arms for the first time, or hear the child calling out "Papa" or "Mummy" to them.
The usual relationships in the world are tinged with ego, with manipulations thrown in. A mother's or father's relationship with their child is devoid of self-concern, as they see the baby as their own selves. As such, it is the closest to unconditional and transcendent love that a normal human can aspire to. And in a marriage where the husband and wife do not love each other anymore (or where the intensity of their love keeps waning), the love (or rather, the dependence) of the child for its parents can be very fulfilling.
A child cherishes its mother. It loves her, needs her, cannot be without her for long, quietens in her arms, its language is privately understood by her. It is like a new love affair for the mother.
A child is innoncent to the ways of the world. The parents experience the baby's innocence and ignorance, its naivete, its simple questions, its joy and sorrow at small things as a breath of fresh air in their own usually jaded lives. They relive their innocence through the child. Caring for the child, answering its questions, playing with it, showing it the world for the first time is a transcending, relaxing experience which takes one away from the worries and fears of one's own life.
For a father, teaching the child about the world, about the ways to survive and flourish can be a deeply satisfying experience. A father wants the child to do better in the world than himself. Teaching the child, mentoring and guiding it, grooming it for success and knowledge, feeling proud at its achievements (or the obverse, feeling disappointed at it having failed to be what one wanted it to be) are deep emotional processes and events.
The deepest emotional aspect of having a baby is that it is seen as a propagation of one's self. One achieves a spurious immortality by becoming a parent. One will live on and continue in this new form. One may be nothing in the world, one may not be famous or known, one may have created nothing of lasting value, but at least this trace of oneself, as one's child, will remain in the world and will continue through the centuries through its progeny and so on.
A strange satisfaction is there of having achieved something mystical by bringing forth a new life into the world. One is almost a God, having created a new life out of nothing. One transcends one's humanity by becoming aware of another life created through oneself.
...
I will attempt only a short take at the demonstrable implications of having a child in an urban setting.
First of all, in a nuclear family, caring for a child can be quite a chore. A single person taking care of the baby for most of the time can easily become impatient, angry, frustrated and tired. Sleepless nights, frequent cleaning of linen, not understanding the reason for the child's distress, trying to teach it the basic things about its body processes, feeding it inspite of the baby's resistance, protecting it from illness, frequent visits to the doctor because of undue fears about some symptoms in the baby's body, all contribute to nervous exhaustion and tiredness.
If there be grandparents in the home, the burden is considerably lessened. Otherwise, there can be resentment in the mother at being confined to home while the husband is free to come and go as he pleases.
The mother's body undergoes various transformation during pregnancy and after delivery, and this can lead to a concern in her about her attractiveness. As caring for the child is a taxing chore, sex and sharing of one's free time with one's spouse becomes absent or extremely infrequent. Coupled with the unattractiveness factor, this can induce tension into the marital relationship. The husband finds the wife unwilling as well as unattractive. If he becomes distant from her, resents the child, and tries other avenues of entertaining himself, it can cause a great deal of distress for the mother. For her, the child is a joint creation and responsibility. And her body has borne the brunt of bearing the child. The father's callous attitude towards the wife or the child can lead to depression in the mother.
Both of them recognize the lack of freedom that the child now represents to them. The implications, as they become more obvious, can turn into a battle with one's spouse for space, time for oneself and one's freedom.
As the child grows up, there is anxiety and fear over its health and future. The child's peers, TV, targeted advertising and almost everything which comes in contact with it condition it in various ways. It can become manipulative and blatantly selfish and hedonistic. This can be a trying period for the parents. It can be quite an effort for them to instill the "right values" in the child. There are varied influences in a modern city which can lead a child "astray" and it requires quite a bit of sensitivity and intelligence to gently encourage discrimination in the child. Especially during and after puberty, it can be extremely hard to keep the instinctual drives under check.
Coupled with this is the difficulty of ensuring a good schooling for the child. Good schools in India are hard to find, with admissions being notoriously tough and expensive. As the child grows older, such concerns become more pronounced, now that education and competitive examinations leading to various career paths enter the picture.
...
Bringing a child into the world is a serious responsibility. It is perhaps unrealistic to expect that people will understand and free themselves from their own incompleteness and emotional urges. But a wise assessment of the implications might not be too much to ask.
This is a monologue based on observation, not on personal experience.
Of the instincts or pressures which lead one to procreation, first and foremost is the biological imperative to continue the genetic flow. The basic purpose of life, birth and reproduction for human beings is the propagation of genes. This instinct is extremely deep rooted and hard to consciously investigate.
This urge manifests itself as the ideal of mother and care-giver as the ultimate role for a woman, and as a provider and a mentor as the ultimate role for a man.
As a woman turns 30, she becomes worried that as a reproductive entity, her time is limited. The pressure to become a mother becomes increasingly more insistent after this age. Probably she has experienced love, intimacy and marriage by this age. Motherhood, however, still remains a fresh territory which she would not want to remain off for very long.
Coupled with this inner pressure is the pressure from others. Friends and family are curious as to why the couple is not taking the next step, whether there is a physical reason, whether there is some emotional problem or lack of love and so on. A woman or man would be called selfish for not wanting to have a child, as it would be perceived that their own freedom is more important to them than their "natural drive" to bring and nurture another life in the world.
The parents of the couple would express their need to see their grandchildren. Bringing up one's children is an anxiety-ridden process for most, but bringing up grandchildren can be a pleasant chore at a stage in life when nobody else needs you. Grandparents are usually more accepting, tolerant and loving to kids than the kids' own parents. And of course, seeing one's clan propagated can give a peculiar pleasure.
Fear of loneliness and age-related degeneration is also a major factor in having a baby. In most human societies, children take care of their parents or their grandparents (to various extents). If a child is born when a couple is around 30, nearly 50 years will pass before the parents themselves reach the age where they need physical care. It is not too realistic to expect a son who is fifty (or a daughter, who has her own family) to care for oneself when one is eighty. And even the grandchildren will be having their own life by then. Hence, this need is seldom met properly by one's children or grandchildren. At most, they can provide financial or emotional support or allow the parents to live with them in the same home and take care of their basic needs.
For poor people who have no significant savings, having children is an insurance against starvation and abandonment in old age (or when they are incapacitated).
Another pragmatic reason for having a child (for the reasonably well-off) is to have a heir for the property and wealth accumulated (or inherited) during one's life. One would obviously like one's "own" to make use of the property and wealth that one has.
Frequently, this expectation of care from one's children and this dangled carrot of inheritance causes messy disputes, lawsuits, resentment, petty politics and infighting in an extended family.
There are other reasons for having a child which are emotional and which can prove stronger than pragmatic considerations.
When a couple has been through three or four years of marriage, a state of meaninglessness, ennui or boredom sets in with hardly anything fresh to look forward to in life. A child can provide a welcome relief from this state. It can provide a goal, a meaning to one's life, a reason to live, a reason to be happy or sad, a way for the self and the feelings to re-emerge and express themselves.
And, especially in modern times, as a couple grows into marriage, a child can be a means to cement the emotional bond between the parents. The child can be a device to bring back a oneness of purpose in the life of the parents. A man who does not like to come home early from work, will often do so because he enjoys the company and affection of the child. A woman will value the presence of the father more now that there is a child who needs both of them (as the father assumes the role of the bread-winner whereas the mother is the primary care-giver for the baby).
There is always something to be done in a home with a child, hence boredom (or having nothing to do) is temporarily banished. However, the constant effort of caring for the child (for a nuclear family) can be overwhelming, frustrating and an enclosing activity. One has little time to pursue one's own interests, to eat out, to travel etc. (more on this later)
A child is totally dependant on its parents. This can provide a feeling of gratification for them (especially for the mother). "I am important for somebody", "I am someone's mother or father", "My child needs me more than anything else", such thoughts and the associated feelings can provide a great deal of nourishment to the self. Many people report a wordlessly intense experience as they hold their child in their arms for the first time, or hear the child calling out "Papa" or "Mummy" to them.
The usual relationships in the world are tinged with ego, with manipulations thrown in. A mother's or father's relationship with their child is devoid of self-concern, as they see the baby as their own selves. As such, it is the closest to unconditional and transcendent love that a normal human can aspire to. And in a marriage where the husband and wife do not love each other anymore (or where the intensity of their love keeps waning), the love (or rather, the dependence) of the child for its parents can be very fulfilling.
A child cherishes its mother. It loves her, needs her, cannot be without her for long, quietens in her arms, its language is privately understood by her. It is like a new love affair for the mother.
A child is innoncent to the ways of the world. The parents experience the baby's innocence and ignorance, its naivete, its simple questions, its joy and sorrow at small things as a breath of fresh air in their own usually jaded lives. They relive their innocence through the child. Caring for the child, answering its questions, playing with it, showing it the world for the first time is a transcending, relaxing experience which takes one away from the worries and fears of one's own life.
For a father, teaching the child about the world, about the ways to survive and flourish can be a deeply satisfying experience. A father wants the child to do better in the world than himself. Teaching the child, mentoring and guiding it, grooming it for success and knowledge, feeling proud at its achievements (or the obverse, feeling disappointed at it having failed to be what one wanted it to be) are deep emotional processes and events.
The deepest emotional aspect of having a baby is that it is seen as a propagation of one's self. One achieves a spurious immortality by becoming a parent. One will live on and continue in this new form. One may be nothing in the world, one may not be famous or known, one may have created nothing of lasting value, but at least this trace of oneself, as one's child, will remain in the world and will continue through the centuries through its progeny and so on.
A strange satisfaction is there of having achieved something mystical by bringing forth a new life into the world. One is almost a God, having created a new life out of nothing. One transcends one's humanity by becoming aware of another life created through oneself.
...
I will attempt only a short take at the demonstrable implications of having a child in an urban setting.
First of all, in a nuclear family, caring for a child can be quite a chore. A single person taking care of the baby for most of the time can easily become impatient, angry, frustrated and tired. Sleepless nights, frequent cleaning of linen, not understanding the reason for the child's distress, trying to teach it the basic things about its body processes, feeding it inspite of the baby's resistance, protecting it from illness, frequent visits to the doctor because of undue fears about some symptoms in the baby's body, all contribute to nervous exhaustion and tiredness.
If there be grandparents in the home, the burden is considerably lessened. Otherwise, there can be resentment in the mother at being confined to home while the husband is free to come and go as he pleases.
The mother's body undergoes various transformation during pregnancy and after delivery, and this can lead to a concern in her about her attractiveness. As caring for the child is a taxing chore, sex and sharing of one's free time with one's spouse becomes absent or extremely infrequent. Coupled with the unattractiveness factor, this can induce tension into the marital relationship. The husband finds the wife unwilling as well as unattractive. If he becomes distant from her, resents the child, and tries other avenues of entertaining himself, it can cause a great deal of distress for the mother. For her, the child is a joint creation and responsibility. And her body has borne the brunt of bearing the child. The father's callous attitude towards the wife or the child can lead to depression in the mother.
Both of them recognize the lack of freedom that the child now represents to them. The implications, as they become more obvious, can turn into a battle with one's spouse for space, time for oneself and one's freedom.
As the child grows up, there is anxiety and fear over its health and future. The child's peers, TV, targeted advertising and almost everything which comes in contact with it condition it in various ways. It can become manipulative and blatantly selfish and hedonistic. This can be a trying period for the parents. It can be quite an effort for them to instill the "right values" in the child. There are varied influences in a modern city which can lead a child "astray" and it requires quite a bit of sensitivity and intelligence to gently encourage discrimination in the child. Especially during and after puberty, it can be extremely hard to keep the instinctual drives under check.
Coupled with this is the difficulty of ensuring a good schooling for the child. Good schools in India are hard to find, with admissions being notoriously tough and expensive. As the child grows older, such concerns become more pronounced, now that education and competitive examinations leading to various career paths enter the picture.
...
Bringing a child into the world is a serious responsibility. It is perhaps unrealistic to expect that people will understand and free themselves from their own incompleteness and emotional urges. But a wise assessment of the implications might not be too much to ask.
Monday, December 05, 2005
The Deterioration of the Body
The body has to deteriorate and die.
The change can be sudden. One can suffer from an accident, or an acute infection or the malfunctioning of an important organ.
Even a slight disturbance in the body's systems, an eye infection, pain in a tooth, dandruff, a corn in a toe, a stomach upset can lead to a general feeling of malaise, of being un-well, of not liking to eat, of not being able to enjoy anything, of a lack of energy, listlessness, irritability and so on.
Good health is a gift which is seldom enjoyed consciously. Only in illness or in pain do we usually become conscious, aware of our body and wish for things to get back to normal...
The body has an innate intelligence which can guide the will to make decisions conducive to a quick recovery. Not liking to eat when ill is the body's way of ridding itself of toxins and of resting the metabolic system, for example.
Many of us spend an unreasonable amount of thought and energy in warding off imaginary illnesses, in keeping more fit than is required, taxing our bodies thinking that dis-use leads to dis-ease.
In the modern world, physical activity is mostly voluntary. We don't usually need to exert our muscles in our daily lives. That is why the plethora of gyms, the fads of yoga and various new-age therapies, the urban maladies (due to a stressful lifestyle and of a polluted, noisy and crowded environment) of chronic constipation, high blood pressure, stress, balding, early graying of hair, myopia, diabetes, back pain, obesity, acidity, ulcers, cysts and so on.
It is important to use the body and the various muscles on a regular basis. Just washing a few of one's clothes, or the dishes, or walking to the grocer and carrying the bags home, of climbing the stairs, a few minutes of aerobics or yoga asanas in the morning, an occasional set of push-ups or sit-ups or crunches can keep the body in good shape. Also important is moderation in one's diet and regularity in the food habits. Eating at almost the same time everyday, having a regular calorific intake, eating fruits and vegetables, having juices, not having many cups of coffee or tea or carbonated water, limiting one's drinking and smoking, not eating red meat, all contribute to good health.
...
Even so, no one can escape age-related degeneration. The eyes become weak, the ears hard of hearing, the muscles lose their stamina, the joints become weak, the bones soft, the heart frail, the brain not as active, the teeth start falling, the hair start graying and falling and so on.
If one is conscious of the body's needs and does not under-use or over-use it, the degeneration is slow and graceful. One frequently comes across a village-folk or a a hill-woman who is pleasant to look at even in old age. One may not look desirable, but there is such a thing as healthy old age in which one is not suffering but is just slowed down. On the other hand, most of the urban people look ugly in their old age, their gait ungraceful, their faces contorted with stress and a thousand fears and regrets, their bodies and faces displaying the tell-tale signs of a life lived hastily and restlessly and their talk becomes bitter, cynical and critical.
It is not hard to understand why such people would not be able to command care and respect from their children. Caring for a selfish, demanding, irritable, moody and cynical man or woman is not a pleasant chore. Is it a surprise why in cities, old people are seldom tolerated in the homes of their children? One can forgive the degeneration of the old person's body as inevitable but it is hard to live with a degenerate or manipulative brain.
I have had the opportunity of caring for many of my grandparents in my life. One of them died of Alzheimer's disease at the age of 85, the other of a heart attack at the age of 90, another of cerebral haematoma as a result of a failing heart, again at 85, and my grandfather, who died the last, died of right ventricular block at the age of 93.
It is not a chore to care for another if one doesn't have cares or desires of one's own. A hedonist will be ill at ease caring for another. He will consider caring for another as an imposition, a burden, an intrusion into his pursuit of pleasure. A depressed person will lack the will to care well. An impatient or emotional person will lack the stability and calmness to care without getting agitated. A person with strong likes and dislikes will easily get disgusted and lose his/her temper.
However, since almost all of us suffer from some care or desire, it is unrealistic to expect someone to care well for someone else for long. Even a mother gets irritated and angry at her child after a couple of sleepless nights.
If the prognosis of someone's illness (or the possibility of a treatment which might cure one) is not very positive, but the degeneration is not sufficientt to cause a quick death, depression might set in at the un-ending days and nights of care which await the care-giver(s).
Sometimes the care-givers resort to radical surgery to attempt to get the patient either back to reasonable good health and independence or to a quick detereoration and death. For the care-givers, death of the patient is only a half-tragedy. It is also a relief.
The ill person can also feel the demands he/she is making on the care-givers, and this can lead to a feeling of depression, of helplessness and of a tendency to suicide. As these feelings are not helpful for the patient's recovery, these lead to a progressive degeneration and to a demand of higher and more insistent care.
Hence, if care is sought to be given, it should be given joyfully. Otherwise it is counter-productive. In private nursing homes also, nurses are usually under-paid and over-worked. It cannot be expected of them to be considerate and caring at the same level as the patient's relations.
When a patient is terminally ill, assisted dying so as to minimize the pain, suffering and humiliation becomes a possiblity. As far as possible, the patient should be kept un-sedated. Sedatives, tranquilizers and sleeping pills can reduce the burden of care, but it also makes such aids mandatory for the future. It is a downhill slope from there. If a patient is unusually irritable or in pain, a mild anti-anxiety drug such as Alprazolam is prescribed. Efforts should be made to make the patient as calm, undisturbed and close to normal as he/she can be even when bed-ridden. A quiet and calm atmosphere, availability of reading material, normal conversation, a dispassionate attitude towards the bodily secretions can make the patient feel at ease and un-distressed. Analgesics (painkillers) should be moderated, as they can easily cause GI upsets. Some mild exercise involving the abdominal muscles can be beneficial for bowel movements. Natural/herbal laxatives (e.g. Isabgol and Triphala) and milk of magnesia are preferable to harsh contact laxatives.
In many countries, it is legal to give a lethal dose of tranquilizers (for example, a 9g oral dose of Nembutal) to let a patient die quickly and painlessly. In India, however, it is not legal yet. But if a terminally ill patient himself declines to have food or liquids, they should not be forced upon him as they might contribute to distress. However, adequate oral hydration (optionally with glucose and electrolytes) can be provided by asking the patient, as it causes little or no metabolic activity.
Hygiene for a bed-ridden patient should be maintained as far as possible as it can be a mood elevator. Mouthwash, sponge-baths, washing of the patient's hands and face before and after his meals, keeping his bed-linen clean and dry and keeping the room ventilated with fresh air, all contribute to a general feeling of well-being.
One might ask what is the purpose of keeping a terminally patient alive. And it is a difficult question. Most of us consider human life as sacred and a gift which should be maintained even when there is no value addition by the person alive to his environment. An old man of 90, who is bed-ridden, can continue to live for many more years if proper care is taken of him, without him being in any way enjoying life, learning anything new or adding anything of value to his environment or to his care-givers.
So what can be the justification of caring for him? Sometimes people do it due to feelings of obligation, filial respect and piety. Sometimes, due to a fear that they themselves might one day face the same and so they should do their part (and subconsciously expect the same care when they reach old age). Sometimes people think that giving care is a good deed which will be rewarded in due course by God.
I took care of my grandfather and others because I had time on my hands, I knew (or learnt) how to care, I had a superficial knowledge of physiology and medicine, and I wanted to learn about old age and death. I am not sure if I would have been willing or patient enough to care for them for years and years while they were bed-ridden. The longest period when I took care of a completely bed-ridden patient (my grandfather) was four months. He recovered well, was back on his feet, and lived on for four more years. I remember that I also got irritated a few times when I felt he lacked the will to get well and that he was taking my care for granted. It took a lot of effort for me to change his mind-set. There were a few times when I wanted him to die and to leave me alone;in retrospect, I consider those moments a failure of my equanimity. What contributed to my impatience was that his own sons were unwilling to take care of him (they were busy in their respective professions) while I, a young man of 25, was made to be a nurse all day just because I had resigned from my job and wanted to spend time on my own.
I learnt a few things about death and dying on the way. No matter how much a person consciously wants to die, the body's main function is to ward off death. Discounting suicidal actions by the patient, the body will continue to remain alive even in apparently life-threatening conditions. There are reserves of energy in the body which get activated only in trauma or when close to death. And also, the person himself, once he/she loses control over his speech and actions, will plead for life and never for death. The body takes over the mind in extreme conditions. Even a person who has been through an attempted suicide will pray to the doctors to save him/her from pain and death.
The will of the patient to live can be quickly sapped by his care-givers if they get tired of him and want him to die. On the other hand, a depressed patient can be brought back to optimism by sustained and patient efforts of a care-giver.
The body becomes restless when death is at hand. One starts recollecting faint events and people far forgotten. One calls out to only those whom one trusts (or has loved in the past). One frequently starts hallucinating. After a threshold, bodily pain ceases to bother one. Unless a person has been deeply religious, religion and God is far from the mind of a dying person. Bitterness, unfulfilled desires and deeply held regrets come to the fore.
Life and death are the greatest of teachers, indeed. Other than the joy of learning and the desire to be happy, what more motivation is required to be a sincere student?
The change can be sudden. One can suffer from an accident, or an acute infection or the malfunctioning of an important organ.
Even a slight disturbance in the body's systems, an eye infection, pain in a tooth, dandruff, a corn in a toe, a stomach upset can lead to a general feeling of malaise, of being un-well, of not liking to eat, of not being able to enjoy anything, of a lack of energy, listlessness, irritability and so on.
Good health is a gift which is seldom enjoyed consciously. Only in illness or in pain do we usually become conscious, aware of our body and wish for things to get back to normal...
The body has an innate intelligence which can guide the will to make decisions conducive to a quick recovery. Not liking to eat when ill is the body's way of ridding itself of toxins and of resting the metabolic system, for example.
Many of us spend an unreasonable amount of thought and energy in warding off imaginary illnesses, in keeping more fit than is required, taxing our bodies thinking that dis-use leads to dis-ease.
In the modern world, physical activity is mostly voluntary. We don't usually need to exert our muscles in our daily lives. That is why the plethora of gyms, the fads of yoga and various new-age therapies, the urban maladies (due to a stressful lifestyle and of a polluted, noisy and crowded environment) of chronic constipation, high blood pressure, stress, balding, early graying of hair, myopia, diabetes, back pain, obesity, acidity, ulcers, cysts and so on.
It is important to use the body and the various muscles on a regular basis. Just washing a few of one's clothes, or the dishes, or walking to the grocer and carrying the bags home, of climbing the stairs, a few minutes of aerobics or yoga asanas in the morning, an occasional set of push-ups or sit-ups or crunches can keep the body in good shape. Also important is moderation in one's diet and regularity in the food habits. Eating at almost the same time everyday, having a regular calorific intake, eating fruits and vegetables, having juices, not having many cups of coffee or tea or carbonated water, limiting one's drinking and smoking, not eating red meat, all contribute to good health.
...
Even so, no one can escape age-related degeneration. The eyes become weak, the ears hard of hearing, the muscles lose their stamina, the joints become weak, the bones soft, the heart frail, the brain not as active, the teeth start falling, the hair start graying and falling and so on.
If one is conscious of the body's needs and does not under-use or over-use it, the degeneration is slow and graceful. One frequently comes across a village-folk or a a hill-woman who is pleasant to look at even in old age. One may not look desirable, but there is such a thing as healthy old age in which one is not suffering but is just slowed down. On the other hand, most of the urban people look ugly in their old age, their gait ungraceful, their faces contorted with stress and a thousand fears and regrets, their bodies and faces displaying the tell-tale signs of a life lived hastily and restlessly and their talk becomes bitter, cynical and critical.
It is not hard to understand why such people would not be able to command care and respect from their children. Caring for a selfish, demanding, irritable, moody and cynical man or woman is not a pleasant chore. Is it a surprise why in cities, old people are seldom tolerated in the homes of their children? One can forgive the degeneration of the old person's body as inevitable but it is hard to live with a degenerate or manipulative brain.
I have had the opportunity of caring for many of my grandparents in my life. One of them died of Alzheimer's disease at the age of 85, the other of a heart attack at the age of 90, another of cerebral haematoma as a result of a failing heart, again at 85, and my grandfather, who died the last, died of right ventricular block at the age of 93.
It is not a chore to care for another if one doesn't have cares or desires of one's own. A hedonist will be ill at ease caring for another. He will consider caring for another as an imposition, a burden, an intrusion into his pursuit of pleasure. A depressed person will lack the will to care well. An impatient or emotional person will lack the stability and calmness to care without getting agitated. A person with strong likes and dislikes will easily get disgusted and lose his/her temper.
However, since almost all of us suffer from some care or desire, it is unrealistic to expect someone to care well for someone else for long. Even a mother gets irritated and angry at her child after a couple of sleepless nights.
If the prognosis of someone's illness (or the possibility of a treatment which might cure one) is not very positive, but the degeneration is not sufficientt to cause a quick death, depression might set in at the un-ending days and nights of care which await the care-giver(s).
Sometimes the care-givers resort to radical surgery to attempt to get the patient either back to reasonable good health and independence or to a quick detereoration and death. For the care-givers, death of the patient is only a half-tragedy. It is also a relief.
The ill person can also feel the demands he/she is making on the care-givers, and this can lead to a feeling of depression, of helplessness and of a tendency to suicide. As these feelings are not helpful for the patient's recovery, these lead to a progressive degeneration and to a demand of higher and more insistent care.
Hence, if care is sought to be given, it should be given joyfully. Otherwise it is counter-productive. In private nursing homes also, nurses are usually under-paid and over-worked. It cannot be expected of them to be considerate and caring at the same level as the patient's relations.
When a patient is terminally ill, assisted dying so as to minimize the pain, suffering and humiliation becomes a possiblity. As far as possible, the patient should be kept un-sedated. Sedatives, tranquilizers and sleeping pills can reduce the burden of care, but it also makes such aids mandatory for the future. It is a downhill slope from there. If a patient is unusually irritable or in pain, a mild anti-anxiety drug such as Alprazolam is prescribed. Efforts should be made to make the patient as calm, undisturbed and close to normal as he/she can be even when bed-ridden. A quiet and calm atmosphere, availability of reading material, normal conversation, a dispassionate attitude towards the bodily secretions can make the patient feel at ease and un-distressed. Analgesics (painkillers) should be moderated, as they can easily cause GI upsets. Some mild exercise involving the abdominal muscles can be beneficial for bowel movements. Natural/herbal laxatives (e.g. Isabgol and Triphala) and milk of magnesia are preferable to harsh contact laxatives.
In many countries, it is legal to give a lethal dose of tranquilizers (for example, a 9g oral dose of Nembutal) to let a patient die quickly and painlessly. In India, however, it is not legal yet. But if a terminally ill patient himself declines to have food or liquids, they should not be forced upon him as they might contribute to distress. However, adequate oral hydration (optionally with glucose and electrolytes) can be provided by asking the patient, as it causes little or no metabolic activity.
Hygiene for a bed-ridden patient should be maintained as far as possible as it can be a mood elevator. Mouthwash, sponge-baths, washing of the patient's hands and face before and after his meals, keeping his bed-linen clean and dry and keeping the room ventilated with fresh air, all contribute to a general feeling of well-being.
One might ask what is the purpose of keeping a terminally patient alive. And it is a difficult question. Most of us consider human life as sacred and a gift which should be maintained even when there is no value addition by the person alive to his environment. An old man of 90, who is bed-ridden, can continue to live for many more years if proper care is taken of him, without him being in any way enjoying life, learning anything new or adding anything of value to his environment or to his care-givers.
So what can be the justification of caring for him? Sometimes people do it due to feelings of obligation, filial respect and piety. Sometimes, due to a fear that they themselves might one day face the same and so they should do their part (and subconsciously expect the same care when they reach old age). Sometimes people think that giving care is a good deed which will be rewarded in due course by God.
I took care of my grandfather and others because I had time on my hands, I knew (or learnt) how to care, I had a superficial knowledge of physiology and medicine, and I wanted to learn about old age and death. I am not sure if I would have been willing or patient enough to care for them for years and years while they were bed-ridden. The longest period when I took care of a completely bed-ridden patient (my grandfather) was four months. He recovered well, was back on his feet, and lived on for four more years. I remember that I also got irritated a few times when I felt he lacked the will to get well and that he was taking my care for granted. It took a lot of effort for me to change his mind-set. There were a few times when I wanted him to die and to leave me alone;in retrospect, I consider those moments a failure of my equanimity. What contributed to my impatience was that his own sons were unwilling to take care of him (they were busy in their respective professions) while I, a young man of 25, was made to be a nurse all day just because I had resigned from my job and wanted to spend time on my own.
I learnt a few things about death and dying on the way. No matter how much a person consciously wants to die, the body's main function is to ward off death. Discounting suicidal actions by the patient, the body will continue to remain alive even in apparently life-threatening conditions. There are reserves of energy in the body which get activated only in trauma or when close to death. And also, the person himself, once he/she loses control over his speech and actions, will plead for life and never for death. The body takes over the mind in extreme conditions. Even a person who has been through an attempted suicide will pray to the doctors to save him/her from pain and death.
The will of the patient to live can be quickly sapped by his care-givers if they get tired of him and want him to die. On the other hand, a depressed patient can be brought back to optimism by sustained and patient efforts of a care-giver.
The body becomes restless when death is at hand. One starts recollecting faint events and people far forgotten. One calls out to only those whom one trusts (or has loved in the past). One frequently starts hallucinating. After a threshold, bodily pain ceases to bother one. Unless a person has been deeply religious, religion and God is far from the mind of a dying person. Bitterness, unfulfilled desires and deeply held regrets come to the fore.
Life and death are the greatest of teachers, indeed. Other than the joy of learning and the desire to be happy, what more motivation is required to be a sincere student?
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
The Psychopathology of Ragging
Ragging is a common phenomenon in Indian higher education. As fresh students enter the institute, the seniors “rag” them purportedly in order to make them familiar with other members of the fraternity and to help them grow quickly into accepting the hostel life and its peculiarities.
However, in recent times (the last 10-15 years), ragging has devolved into a violent, vicious, sexually explicit, sadistic and degrading ritual of harassment, violation and torture. The freshers cringe at the mention of it, and seniors look forward to it as a yearly episode of entertainment and as a show of their “advanced” personalities relative to the neophytes.
I think there are good reasons (as opposed to a justification) for this phenomenon in a country like India.
The Indian higher educational system is currently designed in a way that to enter any good institute takes years of concentrated study to the exclusion of the development of the other parts of one’s personality. Usually only the hard-working, studious and nerdy students make it to the top institutes. In the years of preparation for the entrance exams, the students are left with almost no time and energy for an active social life or development of social skills. Fantasies about the pleasant life after one is admitted to an institute of one’s choice run deep. And as this is the period of extreme hormonal activity after puberty, sexual activity, instead of being channeled properly, is mostly confined to neurotic imagination, dreams, nervous self-consciousness and masturbation.
The seniors have been through this themselves, and they know the nervous, self-conscious, handicapped and one-sided personality of most of the freshers entering the college. Their few years in college have given them a vast freedom compared to their studious years at home spent mostly in the watchful and worried eyes of their parents. However, outlet of one’s sexual energy is still looked down upon, observed voyeuristically and considered something to hide from one’s peers and parents (especially for young educated women).
Coupled with this is the fact that most Indian colleges and universities have a rote-centric system of learning, with very few opportunities for making one a rounded individual having real-life experiences of working hard, earning money and interacting with the world. Almost all undergraduate students in India are sponsored in their education by their parents or, in case of poor students, via scholarships. The teachers in most Indian institutes are mostly mediocre academicians, having evolved from students directly to being teachers without having gone outside an educational institute into the real world (so to speak). Only a miniscule minority of the teachers are passionate about their subjects, about research and learning new things, about motivating the students to have a deep interest in the subject and about interfacing the subject with real world knowledge.
This kind of education from such teachers is not an enjoyable experience and students become bored and frustrated, knowing that they have to spend four or five years in this confined and stultifying atmosphere. It is rare in India for students to take a year or two off to work in the middle of their degree education or for them to develop a new interest while in college.
Now what happens if you put a frustrated, sexually starved bunch of young people in a position of power over an inexperienced, moronic, wide-eyed, right-out-of-mummy’s-lap group of juniors who have little experience in standing up for and fending for themselves, who have little knowledge of things other than theoretical science, and who come to the college with dreams and hopes which the seniors know to be idealistic, who consider themselves victorious kings and queens of the world now that they have succeeded in getting through a grueling competition for entrance?
The seniors resent the temporary exuberance and happiness of the freshers. They consider them still as mama’s kids who need to have a violent awakening into the real world of dashed hopes, fears and frustrations, sexuality and its perversions, endless days of stress and boredom, mediocre and opinionated teachers; they consider themselves as whip-wielding mentors and guides who need to push these suckers into the world of real men like themselves who mouth obscenities, chew tobacco and smoke cigarettes, drink all night, talk lewdly, don’t give a shit to the holy grail of learning and science, are worried about their careers and the competitive world of making it out for oneself…
This resentment and the attitude of a drill-master takes the form of harassment and mockery, explicit questioning, a drumming down of the other’s respect for one’s culture and learnt attitudes, one’s attitude towards one’s parents and towards the other sex, a violent education about sexuality, a berating and insulting lesson about one’s inability in standing up for oneself, about one’s lack of knowledge about the world, and so on.
The more shy or reticent or introvert or inane a fresher, the more enjoyable becomes the task of a senior in making him/her enter the world of taboo acts, of unspeakable words and in making him/her respect the senior’s level of “evolution” and knowledge about the other aspects of life. The more someone protests, the more insistent is the ragging, and the more enjoyable his humiliation and his exposure. Seniors don’t enjoy humiliating a person who is witty, is a well-balanced personality, who has confidence and whose experiences are more varied than theirs.
Sexual language, obscene inanities, vulgar acts are very common in ragging. And apart from the reasons I give above, there are other factors in operation. Firstly most of even the seniors are virgins. They vicariously enjoy the freshers proposing to the girls, freshers talking about their sex lives, freshers talking lewdly and lasciviously about girls and women around them, and so on. Only rarely do the seniors actually sexually assault the freshers, however.
Secondly, in hostel life, there is a sudden and wide availability of pornographic literature and videos (all the more now that internet access is widespread). Freshers who haven’t been exposed to such media are fed increasingly explicit and perverse imagery and this can be traumatic. The emotions of romance, “pure love”, youthful infatuation are ridiculed and women (or men) are sought to be portrayed as sexual objects only. Seniors want the freshers to be their copies as far as their attitudes towards sexuality and the other sex are concerned.
When I entered IIT Delhi, there were a few frenzied weeks of extensive ragging in which many students were reduced to tears. Many of us were smart and could have fun with the seniors but most of us didn’t know tit from fat. One of my friends, a brilliant computer engineer today, didn’t know the capital of Calcutta (sic). Another didn’t know which way babies were born from a woman’s body. Another wouldn’t admit (actually till the fourth year, till he was found out accidently) that he masturbated. Another had to be educated about the finer aspects of zipping up his fly which he routinely forgot.
Some enterprising seniors made a dozen of us strip completely and perform a few pornographic acts. We weren’t coerced too violently but, being in a new environment with overbearing seniors, we were scared and did whatever we were asked to do. That event proved to me too much for some of us to come to terms with. One of the more deeply troubled amongst us complained to the authorities and severe disciplinary action followed against the seniors. But I think most of us didn’t get scarred psychologically by that humiliation.
However, it is easy to see why some would become disillusioned, depressed and suffer from nervous breakdowns after repeatedly going through such scenarios. One often reads about freshers committing suicide, about freshers leaving the college back for the security of their homes never wanting to come back, about violence when a fresher dares to speak up or when a fresher refuses to participate in things he/she considers too degrading.
Freshers come to a professional college flush with hopes and gloating with congratulations from their peers and family over their success. They are upbeat, confident and looking forward to a better life after years of toiling over books. The rude awakening which awaits them in the hostel rooms and aisles during the night can be very unpleasant. Some of them, who come from an extremely sheltered and morally upright upbringing cannot reconcile their hopes and ideals with this decadent reality. They go into severe depression, their dreams of a happy and free existence shattered. The world seems a cruel place, with no one to turn to. The food is bad, the hostel menacing, the new schedule grueling, the peers scared and witless, the seniors harsh and cruel, the teachers not all that great that one had thought them to be, the loss of comfort, the constant requirement to be on one’s own and on one’s toes, …
Usually, many colleges have what is called a “freshers’ welcome” week in which many cultural events, song competitions, quizzes, indoor games take place. Most freshers are still trying to find their bearings in the new place when they are thrust forward to perform in front of jeering seniors and hostile people from other hostels. Some like such events to exhibit their abilities, others just can’t wait to be left alone in their rooms. There is too little solitude in the first few weeks, too little time to take in and reflect on the so much new that is happening around oneself. From daybreak till late at night, one is constantly under pressure and surveillance.
I remember when I was in the second year at IIT, there was an inter-hostel mimicry competition amongst freshers. One poor guy was no good at it but he had obviously been asked to perform by his seniors (maybe there was no one particularly good at mimicry amongst freshers in that hostel). He was tongue tied in front of the microphone. The seniors kept jeering and making cat-calls. He just collapsed right there in front of the audience from nervous breakdown. I left the hall in disgust.
Most institutes also have fierce inter-hostel rivalry which is expected to be internalized by the freshers as well. When I was a fresher, I could see no reason to bark against other hostels but was asked to do so no-end by the seniors when the other hostels were playing against us or when of their students was singing a song etc. I lost all interest in the freshers’ events, in the success of my hostel and hated the scornful seniors. I am sure many others went through these feelings.
…
Fear of punishment can only act as a deterrent. It cannot take away the frustrations and resentment of seniors or the one-sided personalities of the freshers.
I think what might aid this sorry state of affairs towards resolution is to make the student life (both the pre-college days and in college) enjoyable, fascinating, interactive, less hierarchical (teachers and the administration vis-a-vis the students), less stressful, less future-oriented and geared more towards leisurely learning, work in the real world, more time to think and reflect and apply one’s learning rather than a deluge of study and assignments. And I think as Indian society becomes more accepting of pre-marital or casual relationships, the sexual perversity in Indian student life will also come down.
But in the meanwhile, I can only advise a would-be fresher to anticipate a few weeks of ragging not with fear but with interest (as a learning in human nature), to stand up to oneself in front of others, to be confident, fluent and balanced, to spend time socializing and traveling as much as possible during one’s school and college years, to develop other interests (especially knowledge about procreation) in one’s life than merely theoretical science, and not to consider a particular entrance examination as the be-all and end-all of life. It also helps if one can spend the weekend during the first few weeks by oneself at some relative’s place, to reflect upon and to absorb the new atmosphere.
And if the ragging turns violent and too degrading, I would advise the fresher to not hesitate in complaining to the college authorities or to the police. Fear of censure amongst the student community for having been a complainer is misplaced. The seniors must respect a basic minimum dignity in the other person, even in an act of ragging, and to do otherwise is to invite suitable punishment from law enforcement.
However, in recent times (the last 10-15 years), ragging has devolved into a violent, vicious, sexually explicit, sadistic and degrading ritual of harassment, violation and torture. The freshers cringe at the mention of it, and seniors look forward to it as a yearly episode of entertainment and as a show of their “advanced” personalities relative to the neophytes.
I think there are good reasons (as opposed to a justification) for this phenomenon in a country like India.
The Indian higher educational system is currently designed in a way that to enter any good institute takes years of concentrated study to the exclusion of the development of the other parts of one’s personality. Usually only the hard-working, studious and nerdy students make it to the top institutes. In the years of preparation for the entrance exams, the students are left with almost no time and energy for an active social life or development of social skills. Fantasies about the pleasant life after one is admitted to an institute of one’s choice run deep. And as this is the period of extreme hormonal activity after puberty, sexual activity, instead of being channeled properly, is mostly confined to neurotic imagination, dreams, nervous self-consciousness and masturbation.
The seniors have been through this themselves, and they know the nervous, self-conscious, handicapped and one-sided personality of most of the freshers entering the college. Their few years in college have given them a vast freedom compared to their studious years at home spent mostly in the watchful and worried eyes of their parents. However, outlet of one’s sexual energy is still looked down upon, observed voyeuristically and considered something to hide from one’s peers and parents (especially for young educated women).
Coupled with this is the fact that most Indian colleges and universities have a rote-centric system of learning, with very few opportunities for making one a rounded individual having real-life experiences of working hard, earning money and interacting with the world. Almost all undergraduate students in India are sponsored in their education by their parents or, in case of poor students, via scholarships. The teachers in most Indian institutes are mostly mediocre academicians, having evolved from students directly to being teachers without having gone outside an educational institute into the real world (so to speak). Only a miniscule minority of the teachers are passionate about their subjects, about research and learning new things, about motivating the students to have a deep interest in the subject and about interfacing the subject with real world knowledge.
This kind of education from such teachers is not an enjoyable experience and students become bored and frustrated, knowing that they have to spend four or five years in this confined and stultifying atmosphere. It is rare in India for students to take a year or two off to work in the middle of their degree education or for them to develop a new interest while in college.
Now what happens if you put a frustrated, sexually starved bunch of young people in a position of power over an inexperienced, moronic, wide-eyed, right-out-of-mummy’s-lap group of juniors who have little experience in standing up for and fending for themselves, who have little knowledge of things other than theoretical science, and who come to the college with dreams and hopes which the seniors know to be idealistic, who consider themselves victorious kings and queens of the world now that they have succeeded in getting through a grueling competition for entrance?
The seniors resent the temporary exuberance and happiness of the freshers. They consider them still as mama’s kids who need to have a violent awakening into the real world of dashed hopes, fears and frustrations, sexuality and its perversions, endless days of stress and boredom, mediocre and opinionated teachers; they consider themselves as whip-wielding mentors and guides who need to push these suckers into the world of real men like themselves who mouth obscenities, chew tobacco and smoke cigarettes, drink all night, talk lewdly, don’t give a shit to the holy grail of learning and science, are worried about their careers and the competitive world of making it out for oneself…
This resentment and the attitude of a drill-master takes the form of harassment and mockery, explicit questioning, a drumming down of the other’s respect for one’s culture and learnt attitudes, one’s attitude towards one’s parents and towards the other sex, a violent education about sexuality, a berating and insulting lesson about one’s inability in standing up for oneself, about one’s lack of knowledge about the world, and so on.
The more shy or reticent or introvert or inane a fresher, the more enjoyable becomes the task of a senior in making him/her enter the world of taboo acts, of unspeakable words and in making him/her respect the senior’s level of “evolution” and knowledge about the other aspects of life. The more someone protests, the more insistent is the ragging, and the more enjoyable his humiliation and his exposure. Seniors don’t enjoy humiliating a person who is witty, is a well-balanced personality, who has confidence and whose experiences are more varied than theirs.
Sexual language, obscene inanities, vulgar acts are very common in ragging. And apart from the reasons I give above, there are other factors in operation. Firstly most of even the seniors are virgins. They vicariously enjoy the freshers proposing to the girls, freshers talking about their sex lives, freshers talking lewdly and lasciviously about girls and women around them, and so on. Only rarely do the seniors actually sexually assault the freshers, however.
Secondly, in hostel life, there is a sudden and wide availability of pornographic literature and videos (all the more now that internet access is widespread). Freshers who haven’t been exposed to such media are fed increasingly explicit and perverse imagery and this can be traumatic. The emotions of romance, “pure love”, youthful infatuation are ridiculed and women (or men) are sought to be portrayed as sexual objects only. Seniors want the freshers to be their copies as far as their attitudes towards sexuality and the other sex are concerned.
When I entered IIT Delhi, there were a few frenzied weeks of extensive ragging in which many students were reduced to tears. Many of us were smart and could have fun with the seniors but most of us didn’t know tit from fat. One of my friends, a brilliant computer engineer today, didn’t know the capital of Calcutta (sic). Another didn’t know which way babies were born from a woman’s body. Another wouldn’t admit (actually till the fourth year, till he was found out accidently) that he masturbated. Another had to be educated about the finer aspects of zipping up his fly which he routinely forgot.
Some enterprising seniors made a dozen of us strip completely and perform a few pornographic acts. We weren’t coerced too violently but, being in a new environment with overbearing seniors, we were scared and did whatever we were asked to do. That event proved to me too much for some of us to come to terms with. One of the more deeply troubled amongst us complained to the authorities and severe disciplinary action followed against the seniors. But I think most of us didn’t get scarred psychologically by that humiliation.
However, it is easy to see why some would become disillusioned, depressed and suffer from nervous breakdowns after repeatedly going through such scenarios. One often reads about freshers committing suicide, about freshers leaving the college back for the security of their homes never wanting to come back, about violence when a fresher dares to speak up or when a fresher refuses to participate in things he/she considers too degrading.
Freshers come to a professional college flush with hopes and gloating with congratulations from their peers and family over their success. They are upbeat, confident and looking forward to a better life after years of toiling over books. The rude awakening which awaits them in the hostel rooms and aisles during the night can be very unpleasant. Some of them, who come from an extremely sheltered and morally upright upbringing cannot reconcile their hopes and ideals with this decadent reality. They go into severe depression, their dreams of a happy and free existence shattered. The world seems a cruel place, with no one to turn to. The food is bad, the hostel menacing, the new schedule grueling, the peers scared and witless, the seniors harsh and cruel, the teachers not all that great that one had thought them to be, the loss of comfort, the constant requirement to be on one’s own and on one’s toes, …
Usually, many colleges have what is called a “freshers’ welcome” week in which many cultural events, song competitions, quizzes, indoor games take place. Most freshers are still trying to find their bearings in the new place when they are thrust forward to perform in front of jeering seniors and hostile people from other hostels. Some like such events to exhibit their abilities, others just can’t wait to be left alone in their rooms. There is too little solitude in the first few weeks, too little time to take in and reflect on the so much new that is happening around oneself. From daybreak till late at night, one is constantly under pressure and surveillance.
I remember when I was in the second year at IIT, there was an inter-hostel mimicry competition amongst freshers. One poor guy was no good at it but he had obviously been asked to perform by his seniors (maybe there was no one particularly good at mimicry amongst freshers in that hostel). He was tongue tied in front of the microphone. The seniors kept jeering and making cat-calls. He just collapsed right there in front of the audience from nervous breakdown. I left the hall in disgust.
Most institutes also have fierce inter-hostel rivalry which is expected to be internalized by the freshers as well. When I was a fresher, I could see no reason to bark against other hostels but was asked to do so no-end by the seniors when the other hostels were playing against us or when of their students was singing a song etc. I lost all interest in the freshers’ events, in the success of my hostel and hated the scornful seniors. I am sure many others went through these feelings.
…
Fear of punishment can only act as a deterrent. It cannot take away the frustrations and resentment of seniors or the one-sided personalities of the freshers.
I think what might aid this sorry state of affairs towards resolution is to make the student life (both the pre-college days and in college) enjoyable, fascinating, interactive, less hierarchical (teachers and the administration vis-a-vis the students), less stressful, less future-oriented and geared more towards leisurely learning, work in the real world, more time to think and reflect and apply one’s learning rather than a deluge of study and assignments. And I think as Indian society becomes more accepting of pre-marital or casual relationships, the sexual perversity in Indian student life will also come down.
But in the meanwhile, I can only advise a would-be fresher to anticipate a few weeks of ragging not with fear but with interest (as a learning in human nature), to stand up to oneself in front of others, to be confident, fluent and balanced, to spend time socializing and traveling as much as possible during one’s school and college years, to develop other interests (especially knowledge about procreation) in one’s life than merely theoretical science, and not to consider a particular entrance examination as the be-all and end-all of life. It also helps if one can spend the weekend during the first few weeks by oneself at some relative’s place, to reflect upon and to absorb the new atmosphere.
And if the ragging turns violent and too degrading, I would advise the fresher to not hesitate in complaining to the college authorities or to the police. Fear of censure amongst the student community for having been a complainer is misplaced. The seniors must respect a basic minimum dignity in the other person, even in an act of ragging, and to do otherwise is to invite suitable punishment from law enforcement.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
The ride to Pushkar and back
October and November are great months to travel anywhere in India.The weather is cool but not cold, almost every state has its festive season during this period, and there are lots of holidays.
I had been back from Bangalore for about 10 days when I thought ofgoing to the Cattle fair held every year at Pushkar (near Ajmer) in Rajasthan during the full-moon day in Kartik (usually in November). Pushkar is around 550km from Patiala so going on the bike was the first choice. There is also a train which leaves Patiala for Merta city (around 60km from Pushkar) but I was again yearning for a long ride on the motorcycle, especially in Rajasthan.
The fair starts 4-5 days prior to the full-moon day and reaches a peak on the main day with most people starting to leave after that. The full moon day this Kartik was on 15th November, so I planned to be in Pushkar on the 12th. To take it easy, I decided to break the journey in each direction into two days and so I had to start on 11th.
On 10th evening, I filled up the petrol tank, withdrew money from the ATM, packed some t-shirts and a cargo trousers, my camera, the leatherman and a flashlight in a backpack (it felt quite light) and decided to leave the next day around 8am.
Day One
I started at 8.30am nice and easy on the way out from Patiala. Within 20 minutes I was on the highway to Samana. The road was excellent, a canal on to my right and very little traffic. I was cruising at a leisurely 80kmph.
Soon reached Samana, then went on to Patraan and then had to hunt for a while for the highway to Hissar via Tohana. The highway is actually about 20km from Patraan, starting from a town called Moonak. Well, found the highway, had a chai with some truckers who were crackling with their exploits in the brothels of Maharashtra. Wished them health and rode on.
The next stop was Hissar in Haryana. I reached Hissar around 12.30 I think. The highway to Churu (in Rajasthan) via Ramgarh lay via some crowded city roads but once I was on the highway, it was pure joy. But it was going to get better. I took out my packed lunch in Churu and rested for a while in the shade (the afternoon was blazing hot in Rajasthan in mid-November).
The road from Churu to Fatehpur was the best during this first day. Desert all around, no traffic, a meter guage rail line on my right. I was happily cruising at 100kmph and suddenly a train appeared on the tracks going in my direction. I could not resist shouting out a train whistle: Coo...ooo..ooo.
I had initially thought of Fatehpur as my night stop but I reached Fatehpur at 4 and there was still a lot of daylight left. So I went on to Sikar (50km away). I had stayed in Sikar with some friends of J Krishnamurti way back in 1996. I had some hazy idea about where the haveli was where we had all stayed but I wanted to move on closer to Pushkar. So I asked around for the best road from Sikar to Pushkar (it would go through small villages; the other route via Jaipur would be too long).
Everybody gave me different directions and I had to change track a couple of times. I continued through small villages on a narrow potholed road hoping that the road would soon improve. No such luck. The road worsened even more as it approached and left any village. I continued anyway, enjoying the scenes of the village life. I saw some marriage processions, small temples and the villagers idling away in chaupaals and in the streets.
The sun was going to set soon and I still hadn't reached anywhere. I continued along the bad road and finally reached a village (I forget its name but it began with ch) from where the road turned towards a city called Kuchaaman. The road became slighltly better but was still very narrow. The occasional oncoming vehicle blinded me and I had to turn up my visor. Then a flying insect got into my left eye and I had to stop and remove it with my bare fingers. I decided to stop soon.
I finally reached a village where I could see a few temples and I asked at one of them if they had a place for me to stay at night. But the priest was a suspicious sort and he declined. He advised me to go further to a small ashram or to continue till Kuchaaman (which he said was around 15km away). I couldn't find the ashram anyway and ended up in Kuchaaman. I looked around for a decent place to spend the night and finally settled in a hotel called the Maya Hotel. The owner easily brought down the room rate from 250 a night to 150. I put my luggage in the room and went out to look for something to eat.
Imagine my surprise when I found a shop openly selling poppy and opium. I found after some enquiry that selling such narcotics was legal in Rajasthan. I had some Kachoris and a couple of lassis. I was really tired and went to sleep early.
Day Two
I woke up at 5.30, had a cold bath and was off to Pushkar (which was now only 100km away) by 6.30. The receptionist was still asleep as I put the money in his hand.
The road now was fabulous. The sun was rising to my left, and the wide road with desert on both sides was a pleasure to ride on. I had to take a detour towards Merta City/Pushkar by leaving the main highway and on this crossing I took on a passenger. He was a priest in some small village and I'm sure he enjoyed the high speed Enfield ride to his village. He happily invited me for tea at his house and I instantly agreed, hoping to see some inner village life.
He had a small family and they were extremely friendly and welcoming. I had a very refreshing cup of tea prepared by the priest's mother. I asked him if they objected to a non-Brahmin eating in a Brahmin's home but they brushed it aside, saying that these were things of the past. They wanted me to stay for the whole day but I couldn't. I wished them well and was on my way again.
I reached Pushkar city at 10am. Called my friend Ambrish who was to join me there. He was waiting for me at the office of the Mela magistrate (who was his batchmate). I roamed around the fair till noon, and all three of us went for a free lunch (well, the mela magistrate was with us, after all) at a touristy restaurant.
Afterwards Ambrish and myself went to a luxurious tent accomodation which had been arranged by the Ajmer SDM, took an afternoon nap and were again roaming the mela in the evening. Late in the evening we went to the ghats where Ambrish started his meditation while I sat with some sadhus who were cooking their chapaatis right at the ghaat. Ambrish attracted quite a few onlookers because of his meditative stance and his occasional outburst of emotion and at one time I had to be his bodyguard. :-)
Some other friends of Ambrish soon joined us and we again went for a free dinner at an upscale hotel. The hotel owner almost bent over backwards in trying to please us. Ambrish ordered his sattvic diet prepared without onions and garlic and it came within minutes.
We all went back to the tent and had some interesting conversations about the life of an administrative officer. The others left for Ajmer to stay in the government circuit house while Ambrish and myself stayed in the tent, talking till late in the night.
Day Three
I left the tent early, roamed around the mela, went to the ghats to see the early morning bathers. Ambrish joined me later for a sampling of the mela food. He didn't eat anything because it was all spice and garlic, but I enjoyed a thick roti with some spicy dal.
It turned out that they were all leaving for Jaipur to attend a friend's wedding. Our tent had already been allocated to some other VIP, so I decided to join them to the wedding and to stay the night in Jaipur itself.
We first went to the neighboring city of Ajmer and went up a hill to a place called Taragarh. It offered superb views of the whole Ajmer. A cool wind was blowing and it was great fun. We went back to the circuit house to dress up for the wedding (I had to borrow Ambrish's clothes) and we left for Jaipur at around 5.
The road from Ajmer to Jaipur becomes a 6-lane private expressway about 70km from Ajmer. It was a great road but there was hardly any relation between the speed of the vehicle and the lane it was driving in. Ambrish was testing the car to its limits. We were five people inside a 1400cc car, speeding at 150kmph and swerving around other vehicles to maintain our speed. It wasn't too dangerous or frightening though (at least for me) and there were many other geeks going faster than us.
The wedding was in a five star palace. The food wasn't anything to write home about but the ambience was fantastic. Dimly decorated trees and lawns, outstanding lighting, and light music with a beautiful singer. I met some other colleagues of Ambrish, did some face reading for a while and all of us had dinner as soon as it was laid on the tables.
Now the challenge was who would approach the beautiful singer with a request. We couldn't think of a single Hindi song which would be appropriate for the setting and which she was likely to know. Tch Tch. Ambrish had to catch his train to Udaipur and we dropped him to the train station. On the drive back to the hotel, we finally had a consensus on the song. It was to be "Yeh Ladkaa Hai Allah Kaisa Hae Diwaana". But who was going to bell the cat? The honour fell on me.
We were afraid the music was going to end soon, so I approached her nice and polite, asked her if she knew this song. She laughed and said yes. Now we just had to wait. She sang it very well, laughing all the while and she won the heart of every young man in our group.
The mela magistrate went back to Ajmer while the rest of us went to sleep at the Officers' Training School on JLN Road in Jaipur.
Day Four
I was alone in the morning as both my friends had to leave for Delhi early. I packed my bag, exited the training school and started looking out for some public transport to take me to the bus stand. Finally an autorickshaw took mercy on me, but it had a passenger already in. I told him I had to go to the bus stand and he said "Aatth rupaye" (eight rupees). Not a bother, I thought and jumped in. Well, it was a long ride. We picked up another passenger on the way. The auto driver quoted him twenty rupees. Strange, I thought. How can the fare increase as we approach our destination? We reached the bus stand and I handed a ten rupee note to the auto wallah. He kept looking at my face. I finally asked him what did he want. He said the fare was "saatth rupaye" (sixty rupees). Hmmm... so this was the mystery of the increasing fare. I was a little crestfallen but mighty amused. I paid him sixty and boarded a bus back to Ajmer.
In Ajmer I visited Moinuddin Chishti's Dargah. It was just a Muslim version of a commercially exploitable Hindu temple. All kinds of offerings were on sale. There was a big crowd in front of the shrine door and I didn't have any inclination to go in.
I went back to Pushkar. Roamed around a lot. Met a German who was travelling in India in a non-touristy way. We went to the ghats together till the sun set, watched a circus and a magic show. We had dinner at a roof-top restaurant with a great view of the Pushkar lake. He graciously offered me to stay the night in his hotel room and I thankfully accepted.
Day Five
It was the day of heading back home. I decided to go back via a different route. It was one of the best decisions I made in this trip. I decided on the route: Pushkar -> Nagour -> Bikaner -> Suratgarh -> Bathinda -> Patiala. I had some distant cousins staying in Bikaner and I thought they would be happy to see me out of the blue.
I had breakfast in Pushkar with my German friend and rode off around 10am towards Nagour.
The ride was great. The road was excellent, the traffic well-behaved and I with my bike was one of the fastest things on the road. I reached Bikaner at 1.30pm, called up my home for directions to my cousins' place. Everybody was away to the nearby Gurudwara for it was a Gurupurb day. I too went to the Gurudwara and had a great langar.
The rest of the day was spent in getting to know my cousins and their families. I was meeting them for the first time in my life and they were very happy and warmly hospitable. We went for a wedding party at night where I tasted some traditional Rajasthani dishes. They wanted me to stay a whole week but I had to leave the next day.
I knew that the distance from Bikaner back to Patiala was huge (around 570km) to cover in a single day but I was determined. I told them that I would be leaving early in the morning in order to complete the ride in daytime and they were understood and agreed.
Day Six
I had a great breakfast and left their home at 6.45am. Ah, the road from Bikaner to Suratgarh has to be experienced to be believed. It is out of the world. Desolation on both sides, little traffic, great road surface and almost no towns on the way. The sun was rising to my right this time and the flat plains of the desert made it a sight to behold.
At around 8 I was feeling queasy due to some movement in my bowels. I didn't want to go to a toilet in a gas station for they are generally dark and damp. Well, an inspiration hit me. I remembered once we were discussing shitty things amongst family when my Mamaji told me that he had even used a round stone when no water or toilet paper was available. Well, I didn't hesitate after that.
The desert was endless on both sides of the road. I stopped my bike near a bunch of sand dunes and went behind one of them. I could see the rising sun far in front of me, with sand and desert bush all around. An occasional truck would pass my parked bike and the driver would wonder where the biker was. I'm sure some of them saw me as they approached the dunes from afar. It was an experience most pleasant. The round stone was easy to find too...
I continued at great speed towards Suratgarh. The road and the desert scenery were superb. I reached Suratgarh (160km from Bikaner), stopped for a glass of tea and then took a detour towards Hanumangarh, as I had been told by my relatives that the road from Ganganagar (further on the highway) to Bathinda (my next destination) was very bad.
From Hanumangarh I crossed the Haryana border towards Dabwali. There I had an interesting experience. I stopped for a leak at one of the truckers' stops. Some nasty looking truckers were lounging on charpais. I asked them about the shortest route to Patiala and one of them told me helpfully that I would have to go via Bathinda anyway and he didn't know of any short link route. There was a strange vibe in the air. The central character of the group looked like he could devour a cow and not belch once.
I averted their gazes as I rode off towards Bathinda. The road turned a little bad here. I didn't lessen my cruising speed though. The bike was jumping up and down but I was continuing at 90-100kmph. All of a sudden, one of my horns started tittering. I didn't know what was going on and I continued, remembering to check it once I stopped for something. Well, the tittering stopped on its own after a while but the loud volume of my bike's twin horns was now reduced drastically. What to do? I continued without stopping.
I finally stopped at Dabwali and looked under the engine (where the horns are mounted) for what was wrong. It turned out that one of the horns was missing. Hmmm... Either it was the bouncy ride which made it fall off or it was one of those nasty truckers doing a quick job while I was taking a leak.
I tried to remember if I had honked with both the horns after I had left the truck stop but couldn't arrive at a definite conclusion. It was a mystery.
(The mystery was finally resolved the next day when I took my bike for servicing. Turned out the horn hadn't fallen off due to a loosening of the nut, and it hadn't been taken off by someone; the mounting bracket had broken due to the extensive vibration and that made the horn fall off. I chided myself for suspecting the nasty but innocent truckers. On the road, the truckers are usually friendly and helpful and I was a little ashamed of myself at thinking the way I did.)
Well, I continued into Bathinda. Thought of having my packed lunch at my relatives in Mansa (70km from Bathinda). Arrived in Mansa (altogether 470km from Bikaner) at 1.30pm. Surprised everybody that I had come all the way from Bikaner on a motorcycle. Had my lunch and some rest and drove off at 2.45pm.
Reached Patiala at 4.30pm and felt like I was entering my kingdom after an AshvaMegha Yagya.
The next day, got the bike washed and oiled and ready for another long ride.
(Pictures of my trip are available here
I had been back from Bangalore for about 10 days when I thought ofgoing to the Cattle fair held every year at Pushkar (near Ajmer) in Rajasthan during the full-moon day in Kartik (usually in November). Pushkar is around 550km from Patiala so going on the bike was the first choice. There is also a train which leaves Patiala for Merta city (around 60km from Pushkar) but I was again yearning for a long ride on the motorcycle, especially in Rajasthan.
The fair starts 4-5 days prior to the full-moon day and reaches a peak on the main day with most people starting to leave after that. The full moon day this Kartik was on 15th November, so I planned to be in Pushkar on the 12th. To take it easy, I decided to break the journey in each direction into two days and so I had to start on 11th.
On 10th evening, I filled up the petrol tank, withdrew money from the ATM, packed some t-shirts and a cargo trousers, my camera, the leatherman and a flashlight in a backpack (it felt quite light) and decided to leave the next day around 8am.
Day One
I started at 8.30am nice and easy on the way out from Patiala. Within 20 minutes I was on the highway to Samana. The road was excellent, a canal on to my right and very little traffic. I was cruising at a leisurely 80kmph.
Soon reached Samana, then went on to Patraan and then had to hunt for a while for the highway to Hissar via Tohana. The highway is actually about 20km from Patraan, starting from a town called Moonak. Well, found the highway, had a chai with some truckers who were crackling with their exploits in the brothels of Maharashtra. Wished them health and rode on.
The next stop was Hissar in Haryana. I reached Hissar around 12.30 I think. The highway to Churu (in Rajasthan) via Ramgarh lay via some crowded city roads but once I was on the highway, it was pure joy. But it was going to get better. I took out my packed lunch in Churu and rested for a while in the shade (the afternoon was blazing hot in Rajasthan in mid-November).
The road from Churu to Fatehpur was the best during this first day. Desert all around, no traffic, a meter guage rail line on my right. I was happily cruising at 100kmph and suddenly a train appeared on the tracks going in my direction. I could not resist shouting out a train whistle: Coo...ooo..ooo.
I had initially thought of Fatehpur as my night stop but I reached Fatehpur at 4 and there was still a lot of daylight left. So I went on to Sikar (50km away). I had stayed in Sikar with some friends of J Krishnamurti way back in 1996. I had some hazy idea about where the haveli was where we had all stayed but I wanted to move on closer to Pushkar. So I asked around for the best road from Sikar to Pushkar (it would go through small villages; the other route via Jaipur would be too long).
Everybody gave me different directions and I had to change track a couple of times. I continued through small villages on a narrow potholed road hoping that the road would soon improve. No such luck. The road worsened even more as it approached and left any village. I continued anyway, enjoying the scenes of the village life. I saw some marriage processions, small temples and the villagers idling away in chaupaals and in the streets.
The sun was going to set soon and I still hadn't reached anywhere. I continued along the bad road and finally reached a village (I forget its name but it began with ch) from where the road turned towards a city called Kuchaaman. The road became slighltly better but was still very narrow. The occasional oncoming vehicle blinded me and I had to turn up my visor. Then a flying insect got into my left eye and I had to stop and remove it with my bare fingers. I decided to stop soon.
I finally reached a village where I could see a few temples and I asked at one of them if they had a place for me to stay at night. But the priest was a suspicious sort and he declined. He advised me to go further to a small ashram or to continue till Kuchaaman (which he said was around 15km away). I couldn't find the ashram anyway and ended up in Kuchaaman. I looked around for a decent place to spend the night and finally settled in a hotel called the Maya Hotel. The owner easily brought down the room rate from 250 a night to 150. I put my luggage in the room and went out to look for something to eat.
Imagine my surprise when I found a shop openly selling poppy and opium. I found after some enquiry that selling such narcotics was legal in Rajasthan. I had some Kachoris and a couple of lassis. I was really tired and went to sleep early.
Day Two
I woke up at 5.30, had a cold bath and was off to Pushkar (which was now only 100km away) by 6.30. The receptionist was still asleep as I put the money in his hand.
The road now was fabulous. The sun was rising to my left, and the wide road with desert on both sides was a pleasure to ride on. I had to take a detour towards Merta City/Pushkar by leaving the main highway and on this crossing I took on a passenger. He was a priest in some small village and I'm sure he enjoyed the high speed Enfield ride to his village. He happily invited me for tea at his house and I instantly agreed, hoping to see some inner village life.
He had a small family and they were extremely friendly and welcoming. I had a very refreshing cup of tea prepared by the priest's mother. I asked him if they objected to a non-Brahmin eating in a Brahmin's home but they brushed it aside, saying that these were things of the past. They wanted me to stay for the whole day but I couldn't. I wished them well and was on my way again.
I reached Pushkar city at 10am. Called my friend Ambrish who was to join me there. He was waiting for me at the office of the Mela magistrate (who was his batchmate). I roamed around the fair till noon, and all three of us went for a free lunch (well, the mela magistrate was with us, after all) at a touristy restaurant.
Afterwards Ambrish and myself went to a luxurious tent accomodation which had been arranged by the Ajmer SDM, took an afternoon nap and were again roaming the mela in the evening. Late in the evening we went to the ghats where Ambrish started his meditation while I sat with some sadhus who were cooking their chapaatis right at the ghaat. Ambrish attracted quite a few onlookers because of his meditative stance and his occasional outburst of emotion and at one time I had to be his bodyguard. :-)
Some other friends of Ambrish soon joined us and we again went for a free dinner at an upscale hotel. The hotel owner almost bent over backwards in trying to please us. Ambrish ordered his sattvic diet prepared without onions and garlic and it came within minutes.
We all went back to the tent and had some interesting conversations about the life of an administrative officer. The others left for Ajmer to stay in the government circuit house while Ambrish and myself stayed in the tent, talking till late in the night.
Day Three
I left the tent early, roamed around the mela, went to the ghats to see the early morning bathers. Ambrish joined me later for a sampling of the mela food. He didn't eat anything because it was all spice and garlic, but I enjoyed a thick roti with some spicy dal.
It turned out that they were all leaving for Jaipur to attend a friend's wedding. Our tent had already been allocated to some other VIP, so I decided to join them to the wedding and to stay the night in Jaipur itself.
We first went to the neighboring city of Ajmer and went up a hill to a place called Taragarh. It offered superb views of the whole Ajmer. A cool wind was blowing and it was great fun. We went back to the circuit house to dress up for the wedding (I had to borrow Ambrish's clothes) and we left for Jaipur at around 5.
The road from Ajmer to Jaipur becomes a 6-lane private expressway about 70km from Ajmer. It was a great road but there was hardly any relation between the speed of the vehicle and the lane it was driving in. Ambrish was testing the car to its limits. We were five people inside a 1400cc car, speeding at 150kmph and swerving around other vehicles to maintain our speed. It wasn't too dangerous or frightening though (at least for me) and there were many other geeks going faster than us.
The wedding was in a five star palace. The food wasn't anything to write home about but the ambience was fantastic. Dimly decorated trees and lawns, outstanding lighting, and light music with a beautiful singer. I met some other colleagues of Ambrish, did some face reading for a while and all of us had dinner as soon as it was laid on the tables.
Now the challenge was who would approach the beautiful singer with a request. We couldn't think of a single Hindi song which would be appropriate for the setting and which she was likely to know. Tch Tch. Ambrish had to catch his train to Udaipur and we dropped him to the train station. On the drive back to the hotel, we finally had a consensus on the song. It was to be "Yeh Ladkaa Hai Allah Kaisa Hae Diwaana". But who was going to bell the cat? The honour fell on me.
We were afraid the music was going to end soon, so I approached her nice and polite, asked her if she knew this song. She laughed and said yes. Now we just had to wait. She sang it very well, laughing all the while and she won the heart of every young man in our group.
The mela magistrate went back to Ajmer while the rest of us went to sleep at the Officers' Training School on JLN Road in Jaipur.
Day Four
I was alone in the morning as both my friends had to leave for Delhi early. I packed my bag, exited the training school and started looking out for some public transport to take me to the bus stand. Finally an autorickshaw took mercy on me, but it had a passenger already in. I told him I had to go to the bus stand and he said "Aatth rupaye" (eight rupees). Not a bother, I thought and jumped in. Well, it was a long ride. We picked up another passenger on the way. The auto driver quoted him twenty rupees. Strange, I thought. How can the fare increase as we approach our destination? We reached the bus stand and I handed a ten rupee note to the auto wallah. He kept looking at my face. I finally asked him what did he want. He said the fare was "saatth rupaye" (sixty rupees). Hmmm... so this was the mystery of the increasing fare. I was a little crestfallen but mighty amused. I paid him sixty and boarded a bus back to Ajmer.
In Ajmer I visited Moinuddin Chishti's Dargah. It was just a Muslim version of a commercially exploitable Hindu temple. All kinds of offerings were on sale. There was a big crowd in front of the shrine door and I didn't have any inclination to go in.
I went back to Pushkar. Roamed around a lot. Met a German who was travelling in India in a non-touristy way. We went to the ghats together till the sun set, watched a circus and a magic show. We had dinner at a roof-top restaurant with a great view of the Pushkar lake. He graciously offered me to stay the night in his hotel room and I thankfully accepted.
Day Five
It was the day of heading back home. I decided to go back via a different route. It was one of the best decisions I made in this trip. I decided on the route: Pushkar -> Nagour -> Bikaner -> Suratgarh -> Bathinda -> Patiala. I had some distant cousins staying in Bikaner and I thought they would be happy to see me out of the blue.
I had breakfast in Pushkar with my German friend and rode off around 10am towards Nagour.
The ride was great. The road was excellent, the traffic well-behaved and I with my bike was one of the fastest things on the road. I reached Bikaner at 1.30pm, called up my home for directions to my cousins' place. Everybody was away to the nearby Gurudwara for it was a Gurupurb day. I too went to the Gurudwara and had a great langar.
The rest of the day was spent in getting to know my cousins and their families. I was meeting them for the first time in my life and they were very happy and warmly hospitable. We went for a wedding party at night where I tasted some traditional Rajasthani dishes. They wanted me to stay a whole week but I had to leave the next day.
I knew that the distance from Bikaner back to Patiala was huge (around 570km) to cover in a single day but I was determined. I told them that I would be leaving early in the morning in order to complete the ride in daytime and they were understood and agreed.
Day Six
I had a great breakfast and left their home at 6.45am. Ah, the road from Bikaner to Suratgarh has to be experienced to be believed. It is out of the world. Desolation on both sides, little traffic, great road surface and almost no towns on the way. The sun was rising to my right this time and the flat plains of the desert made it a sight to behold.
At around 8 I was feeling queasy due to some movement in my bowels. I didn't want to go to a toilet in a gas station for they are generally dark and damp. Well, an inspiration hit me. I remembered once we were discussing shitty things amongst family when my Mamaji told me that he had even used a round stone when no water or toilet paper was available. Well, I didn't hesitate after that.
The desert was endless on both sides of the road. I stopped my bike near a bunch of sand dunes and went behind one of them. I could see the rising sun far in front of me, with sand and desert bush all around. An occasional truck would pass my parked bike and the driver would wonder where the biker was. I'm sure some of them saw me as they approached the dunes from afar. It was an experience most pleasant. The round stone was easy to find too...
I continued at great speed towards Suratgarh. The road and the desert scenery were superb. I reached Suratgarh (160km from Bikaner), stopped for a glass of tea and then took a detour towards Hanumangarh, as I had been told by my relatives that the road from Ganganagar (further on the highway) to Bathinda (my next destination) was very bad.
From Hanumangarh I crossed the Haryana border towards Dabwali. There I had an interesting experience. I stopped for a leak at one of the truckers' stops. Some nasty looking truckers were lounging on charpais. I asked them about the shortest route to Patiala and one of them told me helpfully that I would have to go via Bathinda anyway and he didn't know of any short link route. There was a strange vibe in the air. The central character of the group looked like he could devour a cow and not belch once.
I averted their gazes as I rode off towards Bathinda. The road turned a little bad here. I didn't lessen my cruising speed though. The bike was jumping up and down but I was continuing at 90-100kmph. All of a sudden, one of my horns started tittering. I didn't know what was going on and I continued, remembering to check it once I stopped for something. Well, the tittering stopped on its own after a while but the loud volume of my bike's twin horns was now reduced drastically. What to do? I continued without stopping.
I finally stopped at Dabwali and looked under the engine (where the horns are mounted) for what was wrong. It turned out that one of the horns was missing. Hmmm... Either it was the bouncy ride which made it fall off or it was one of those nasty truckers doing a quick job while I was taking a leak.
I tried to remember if I had honked with both the horns after I had left the truck stop but couldn't arrive at a definite conclusion. It was a mystery.
(The mystery was finally resolved the next day when I took my bike for servicing. Turned out the horn hadn't fallen off due to a loosening of the nut, and it hadn't been taken off by someone; the mounting bracket had broken due to the extensive vibration and that made the horn fall off. I chided myself for suspecting the nasty but innocent truckers. On the road, the truckers are usually friendly and helpful and I was a little ashamed of myself at thinking the way I did.)
Well, I continued into Bathinda. Thought of having my packed lunch at my relatives in Mansa (70km from Bathinda). Arrived in Mansa (altogether 470km from Bikaner) at 1.30pm. Surprised everybody that I had come all the way from Bikaner on a motorcycle. Had my lunch and some rest and drove off at 2.45pm.
Reached Patiala at 4.30pm and felt like I was entering my kingdom after an AshvaMegha Yagya.
The next day, got the bike washed and oiled and ready for another long ride.
(Pictures of my trip are available here
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