the goalkeeper here MUST have seen the ball bouncing way inside the goalline.
it was not just a few inches this way or that
it was in by almost half a yard!

it was so obvious
why could he not admit that he had been beaten?

all he had to do was
pick up the ball and place it behind the line to confirm the goal.

i ask,
if he had done it,
would he have been a fool?
would anyone ever mocked him for it?
more importantly, if they had eventually lost,
would any of his countrymen ever blamed him for being honest?

now in his mind he must know he was truly beaten
perhaps he admits it to his conscience too.

had the goal been allowed, it could have changed the outcome of the match.
that is the only doubt that will remain for ever
for no one can ever doubt it was a goal

do we really need more technology in sport
if the players themselves can be honest and admit their mistakes or having been beaten?

where is then the morality in sport?
where is fair play?

fairplayWorld CupfootballManuel Neuer

it was about eleven at night
on the last train from calcutta to shantipur,
a rare weekend off from work, going to visit my ma

a railway carriage not unlike like this.

wind free tunneling into the compartment,
increasing with speed through the windows and doors,
the metal and glass panels long vandalised leaving gaps on the outer shell

on one such doorway stood a boy, with windswept hair and ragged clothes
he was about ten or eleven.
on of many such children
who sang for money
hitching rides
on trains.

two pieces of broken slate
held between the fingers of his left hand and
cleverly struck with the thumb and fingers of his right
his own clickety clickety free percussion – easy to carry easy, easily replaced

leaning onto the vertical pole of the doorway, one leg wrapped around it for safety
he was singing a pitch perfect version of this song

Original song: Jaare – jaare ude jaare paakhi ( … go, go fly away bird … )
Sung by: Lata Mangeshkar | Music: Salil Choudhury]

Jaare – jare ude jare paakhi
go – go fly away bird

Furalo praner mela – shesh hoye elo bela
this life’s festival is finishing – the day is coming to an end
Ar kyano michey tore bendhay rakhi – jaare …
why then, for no reason, do I keep you tied – so go …

akashe akashe feeray – ja feeray apono neeray
go from sky to sky – go return to your own home
shymol mathir bonochaye
in the dark shades of the woods

shudhoo, monay monay tore daaki
only, just in my mind do I call you
chahina khelite khela, shesh hoye elo bela
I no longer wish to play any games – the day is coming to an end
Ar kyano michey tore bendhay rakhi – jaare …
why then, for no reason, do I keep you tied – so go …

aamari shopon hoye – koto kichu je gyacho koye
becoming my own dream – you had said so many things
hridaye pinjoray boshiya
sitting within the cage of my heart

jaani – shobi roye gyalo baaki
I do know – everything will remain unfinished
ebaray bhashabo bhela – shesh hoye elo bela
now i’ll float out the raft – the day is coming to an end
Ar kyano michey tore bendhay rakhi – jaare …
why then, for no reason, do I keep you tied – so go …

(I have tried my best to keep the translation as close to the original words of the song)

with three more stations to go
it was just two of us left in the compartment,
he couldn’t have been singing for money, he was singing to himself
no longer at ‘work’, he was singing just for the love of it

the end of maybe a long day – at last happy to be free, to be going home
perhaps to his mum.

like I was

child singersbengal

was never a fan
so didn’t know much of Shakira
till I came across the FIFA World Cup Song
(and got pulled back to watching a fairly dull tournament so far).

I read,
she will be appearing in Glastonbury this year.
ho hum, I said,
thanks for the information.

then I read about her charity work.
I sat up for a second read.

she founded it
in 1997 when only 18 years old.
Pies Descalzos, or Barefoot, has a double significance;
it is the name of the record that made Shakira’s music internationally known
and it also recognizes the thousands of children living in such poverty that they cannot even afford shoes.
The Barefoot Foundation works to ensure that every Colombian child can exercise their right to a quality education.

I find honesty in her generosity
how can I not become
a fan?

” … You paved the way, believe it”

shakiraBarefoot Foundation

the only thought that could have gone through the mind of,

Warren Anderson, former chairman and chief executive officer of Union Carbide as he was being saluted up the steps of a private jet and flown out by the Indian authorities to jump bail and never to return to the scene of his ‘crime’ to stand trial.

Cops saw off Warren with salutes: Pilot

RASHEED KIDWAI: The Telegraph India: Thursday , June 10 , 2010

Bhopal, June 9: Warren Anderson made his escape from Indian law in a hail of salutes from senior Bhopal police officers and fell into a peaceful slumber during his 90-minute flight to Delhi on a state aircraft.

One of the two pilots, Captain D.C. Sondhi, told The Telegraph the police officers repeatedly offered to carry the American’s hand luggage as they escorted him to the plane at Bhopal airport. “Memories of that scene still make me angry,” said Sondhi, 72. “Here was a man responsible for the death of thousands, and our government officials were saluting him!” He added: “The buzz among bureaucrats was that US President Ronald Reagan had spoken to someone important in India to get Anderson out quickly.” The Union Carbide chief was arrested at Bhopal airport when he arrived four days after the 1984 gas leak that killed at least 15,000, but was let off within hours after an unidentified top government leader in Delhi made a call to chief minister Arjun Singh.

Captain Sondhi, then director of aviation in Bhopal, received the call from Arjun Singh’s office at 2.30pm. “I was asked to get the state government plane, a B-200 Super King, ready. Soon, city superintendent Swaraj Puri arrived with Anderson,” Sondhi said. “Anderson was carrying a garment box (containing a business suit) and a briefcase. I remember police officers repeatedly requesting him to let them carry these pieces of luggage. Anderson said, ‘No, no, I will carry them myself.’ When the plane was about to take off, the officers saluted him and wished him good luck.”

The other pilot, Captain Syed Hasan Ali, remembers Anderson dozing off mid-flight. “He was calm but in a hurry to reach Delhi,” said Ali, whose father had become ill after the gas leak.

never has there been the greater arse-lickers* like us Indians.
gosh, this makes me hang my head in shame.

it is not known who Mr Ronald Reagan rang to get this individual to escape Indian Law. we can only guess;
on that day in December of 1984,
Mr Giani Zail Singh was the President of India
Mr Rajiv Gandhi was the Prime Minister of India
Mr Rajiv Gandhi was also the Foreign Minister of India
Mr Ram Niwas Mirdha was Minister of State, External Affairs

Just to refresh our memories:

The Bhopal Tragedy 1984

And justice will be done? – Greenpeace Feature story – August 1, 2003

On the night of the disaster, December 3, 1984, an explosion at Union Carbide’s pesticide plant caused 40 tonnes of lethal gas to seep into Bhopal. Six safety measures designed to prevent a gas leak had either malfunctioned, were turned off or were otherwise inadequate. In addition, the safety siren, intended to alert the community should an incident occur at the plant, was turned off.

As the Union Carbide boss, Anderson knew about a 1982 safety audit of the Bhopal plant, which identified 30 major hazards. Rather than fix them in Bhopal, only the company’s identical plant in the US was fixed. Neglecting these hazards in Bhopal caused the deadly explosion. Anderson flew to India after the disaster but to the company’s surprise, police investigating the disaster immediately arrested him. He subsequently jumped bail and was flow by private jet back to the US, never to return to India.

While fleeing the law in India his company abandoned the polluted factory site allowing it to poison Bhopal residents for 18 years. He did not disclose the composition of the poisonous gas (the company still claims this is a trade secret), thus preventing doctors from properly treating the 120,000 people who are still sick. Company lawyers ensured survivors only got between US$300-500 compensation each, if they were ‘lucky’, for their ruined lives. Dow Chemical took over Union Carbide in 2001 but it claims Union Carbide has ‘settled’ the issue of Bhopal.

*arse-licker:

Longman: Dictionary of Contemporary English
arse-licker – noun [countable] British English spoken not polite
someone who is always very nice to people in authority because he or she wants to be liked by them – used to show disapproval

BhopalUnion CarbideWarren Anderson

I have spent days, and hours watching
the moves, the passes, the dribbles,
the shots, the goals, the misses,
the joys and the agonies.
every four years.

I have been searching for a reason to put myself through it all again.
and I have found it, just in time, in this anthem;
in the words of the song

Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)

You’re a good soldier, Choosing your battles
Pick yourself up; And dust yourself off; Get back in the saddle

You’re on the front line; Everyone’s watching
You know it’s serious; We’re getting closer; This isn’t over

The pressure’s on; you feel it, But you got it all; believe it

When you fall get up oh, oh
And if you fall get up eh, eh

Tsamina mina zangalewa; Cause this is Africa

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Listen to your god; this is our motto
Your time to shine; Don’t wait in line; Y vamos por todo

People are raising their expectations
Go on and feel it; This is your moment; No hesitation

Today’s your day, I feel it, You paved the way, Believe it

If you get down; Get up oh, oh
When you get down; Get up eh, eh

Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah
Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Awela Majoni Biggie Biggie Mamma
from A to Z
Athi sithi LaMajoni Biggie Biggie Mamma
from east to west

Bathi . . .
Waka Waka Ma Eh Eh
Waka Waka Ma Eh Eh
Zonke zizwe mazi buye O Mazize Africa

Tsamina mina mina; Waka waka ah, Tsamina mina,
Tsamina mina mina; Waka waka ah,

Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah
Tsamina mina eh, eh; Waka waka eh, eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; This time for Africa

Zambo eh eh; Zambo eh eh
Tsamina mina zangalewa; Anawa ah ah

This time for Africa, This time for Africa,
For all africa

originally sung by Golden Sounds, a makossa group from Cameroon.
did she steal the song?

with versions of the song from far flung places
with cover versions by umpteen artists,
does it matter?

… and so once again,
I will be cheering the Netherlands,
the land of Johan Cruyff, Marco van Basten, Ruud Gullit, Dennis Bergkamp ….

Shakirawaka wakaworld cup 2010

it will be 40 years tomorrow,
two men went to the moon

and returned safely back to earth

I was a young boy in Calcutta then
Calcutta had no TVs – no stations no broadcasting
I was forbid from tuning in on the radio late at night
but it could not keep me away from
the excitement
the enthusiasm
the anticipation tinged with fear
I had to wait sleepless nights to read expedition news in the morning papers

my world could no longer be the same
my mind could only look up and beyond,
my mind had embarked on an adventure of my own
to explore the wonders of space, the universe
wonders of the unknown

I was so very young when I heard this song
I loved the tune

Written by John Stewart
I heard the version sung by the American singer Lobo
I could not find either of their versions on youTube – so I give you this

ARMSTRONG

- Words By John Stewart © Bug Music, INC. / Burgle Publishing (BMI)

Black boy in Chicago, Playing in the street
Not near enough to wear, Not near enough to eat
Don’t you know he saw it,
On a July afternoon
He saw a man named Armstrong, Walk upon the moon

Young girl in Calcutta, Barely eight years old
The flies that swarm the market place, Will see she don’t get old
Don’t you know she heard it,
On that July afternoon
She heard a man named Armstrong, Had walked upon the moon

The rivers are getting dirty, The wind is getting bad
War and hate are killing off, The only earth we have
But the world all stopped to watch it
On that July afternoon
To watch a man named Armstrong, Walk upon the moon

And I wonder if a long time ago, Somewhere in the universe
They watched a man named Adam
Walk upon the earth

tomorrow
the world will look back 40 years to that day

no longer the young boy,
now I will look all around me before I look up and beyond
on earth
we are still divided, prejudiced and intolerent
we are yet to find unity; find peace for all mankind

for 40 years we have failed to live up to the promise we left behind on the moon.

Apollo11neil+armstrongmoon landing

to question the unexplained wrongs
beliefs blinded by aeons of
superstitions
prejudices
and religions

Faith of the Heart

a song written by Diane Warren
originally performed by Rod Stewart for the soundtrack of the 1998 film Patch Adams
also the opening soundtrack for “Enterprise” – the Star Trek prequel

sung here by Russel Watson.

It’s been a long road
Getting from there to here
It’s been a long time
But my time is finally near

And I can feel the change in the wind right now
Nothing’s in my way
And they’re not gonna hold me down no more
No they’re not gonna hold me down

‘Cause I’ve got faith of the heart
I’m going where my heart will take me
I’ve got faith to believe
I can do anything
I’ve got strength of the soul
And no one’s gonna bend or break me
I can reach any star
I’ve got faith, I’ve got faith, faith of the heart

It’s been a long night
Trying to find my way
Been through the darkness
Now I’ve finally have my day

And I will see my dream come alive at last
I will touch the sky
And they’re not gonna hold me down no more
No they’re not gonna change my mind

I’ve known the wind so cold, and seen the darkest days.
But now the winds I feel, are only winds of change.
I’ve been through the fire and I’ve been through the rain.
But I’ll be fine.

It’s been a long road.

would you live in an Islamic Caliphate,
the global state that will be ruled under the Sharia Law?
the one Islamic Caliphate, that every muslims desires, yes, everyone of them,
for it is dictated by their religion.

Islam is a religion of peace, it is argued by the muslims.

then there also are many non-muslims voices,
loud in their ignorance who only would like to be seen as “liberals”
while for many unfortunates, born and living in the wrong world region, it will be all too late.

an allegation from the Indian Ahmadiyya community

Ahmadi children arrested on false charges in Pakistan

In persecution.org | Punjab News Online
Maqbool Ahmad Wednesday, 11 February 2009

QUADIAN: Ahmadiyya Muslim community in India spokesman Mohammad Nasim Khan said in a press release that five members of its community residing in Chak 172/TDA, District Layyah, Pakistan have been arrested and charged under Section 295-C of the Pakistani Penal Code. In a grave blow to any standards of decency, four of the accused are children studying at the English language ‘Superior Academy’ private school. Under the terms of Section 295-C any person found guilty is subject to either the death penalty or life imprisonment.

The four accused children are Muhammad Irfan, Tahir Imran, Tahir Mahmood and Naseeb Ahmad. There are conflicting reports regarding the exact age of the children however according to both the ‘AHRC’ and ‘The Daily Times’ their ages range between 14 and 16. Mr Mubashar Ahmad, aged 50, has also been arrested under section 295-C.

All five were taken into custody on 28 January 2009 by virtue of a police raid on each of their homes. After four hours in custody each of the accused was charged under the terms of section 295-C on the completely false grounds that they had written the name of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) on the walls of a toilet at the Jamia Gulzar-e-Medina Mosque.

The Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamaat urges the immediate release of the five persons imprisoned and for all charges to be dropped. In a country which seeks to promote an image of tolerance to the Western world, it speaks volumes that peace loving children have been charged with an offence that sanctions the death penalty as a sentence.

this is one of the many news feeds on this event

Presumed guilty five Ahmadis arrested in Punjab for blasphemy

Qaiser Felix – in Asia News 02/13/2009 17:47

Lahore (AsiaNews) – Five Ahmadi in Punjab’s Layyah district have been arrested on charges of blasphemy. No evidence has been presented, nor has any witness come forth. They were just detain on a “presumption of guilt,” this according to Asma Jahangir, chairperson of Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) and United Nations Rapporteur on Freedom of Religion. For this reason she has called on the government to take prompt measures to prevent abuses of the law.

For Islamic fundamentalists the Ahmadis are a heretical sect that cannot claim to be Muslim because they do not recognise Muhammad as the final prophet. Because of this they have suffered persecution in Pakistan but also in Bangladesh and Indonesia.

This particular incident began when five Ahmadi students, who had been duly authorised to pray in the local mosque, were told not to come back to the holy place. With such a threat hanging over their heads, the five men were accused ten days later of scribbling offensive graffiti on the walls of the mosque’s bathroom. According to the official complaint filed against them, since they were the only non-Muslims in the mosque, “only they could be responsible for the offence.”

the eternal price of not being muslims in an Islamic republic – to be “guilty by presumption”.

but does the world care about the Ahmadis?

2005.

Pakistan: Killing of Ahmadis continues amid impunity

AI Index: ASA 33/028/2005 (Public) | News Service No: 271
Public Statement – Amnesty International: 11 October 2005

Police investigations of previous targeted killings of Ahmadis in Pakistan have been slow or have not taken place at all. In many cases the perpetrators have not been brought to justice. Amnesty International believes that the government’s consistent failure to investigate attacks and killings of members of religious minorities fails to discourage further human rights abuses against such groups. The right to freedom of religion, as laid down in the Pakistani constitution and in international human rights law, must be made a reality for all religious minorities in Pakistan.

Over the years Amnesty International has been informed of numerous targeted killings of Ahmadis, usually carried out with impunity. In some cases, the targeted Ahmadis themselves were subjected to criminal charges. In one incident in October 2000, eight Ahmadis were murdered in the village of Ghatialian, Sialkot district, in an incident similar to that of 7 October 2005.

In October 2000 gunmen opened fire on Ahmadis while they were gathered at a mosque for worship. Five Ahmadis who witnessed the attack and reported the incident to the police, along with 21 other Ahmadis, were arrested and many of them are still serving life sentences for what Amnesty International believes to be false charges. None of the gunmen were ever arrested or brought to justice.

A report by the Amnesty International
of the mockery of Human Rights of religious minorities in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan.

2007

And then there was from the Human Rights Watch:

Pakistan: Pandering to Extremists Fuels Persecution of Ahmadis

Government Must Repeal ‘Blasphemy Law’ and End Persecution of Religious Minority
Human Rights Watch | May 5, 2007

The Pakistani government should stop pandering to Islamist extremist groups that foment harassment and violence against the minority Ahmadiyya religious community, Human Rights Watch said today.

Human Rights Watch called on the government of President General Pervez Musharraf to repeal laws that discriminate against religious minorities such as the Ahmadis, including the penal statute that makes capital punishment mandatory for “blasphemy.”

The persecution of the Ahmadiyya community is wholly legalized, even encouraged, by the Pakistani government. Pakistan’s penal code explicitly discriminates against religious minorities and targets Ahmadis in particular by prohibiting them from “indirectly or directly posing as a Muslim.” Ahmadis are prohibited from declaring or propagating their faith publicly, building mosques, or making the call for Muslim prayer.

Pakistan’s “Blasphemy Law,” as Section 295-C of the Penal Code is known, makes the death penalty mandatory for blasphemy. Under this law, the Ahmadi belief in the prophethood of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad is considered blasphemous insofar as it “defiles the name of Prophet Muhammad.”

This is February 2009

where is the voice of the “moderate muslims”?

SITUATION IN DISTRICT LAYYAH WORSENS

In persecution.org | Punjab News Online
Maqbool Ahmad Wednesday, 10 February 2009

Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamat spokesman Mohammad Nasim Khan said in a press release today that the Human Rights situation of its members in District Layyah, Pakistan is worsening. The five Ahmadis, who include four children, arrested on 28 January 2009 remain in police custody. They are not being allowed to meet with any persons, in direct contravention to the provisions laid forth in Article 37 of the Convention on the Rights of the Child to which Pakistan is party.

In a further worrying move the local Mullahs have announced that a large scale rally will be held at Chak TDA/172 in opposition to the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamaat. It is more than likely that this event will be used to incite hatred against the Jamaat and to urge people to act against Ahmadis. The organisers of this event are inviting people from nearby cities such as Dera Isamael Khan and Muzafergarh to take part in this rally. The local authorities and police are seriously concerned about the event which they fear they will be unable to control.

Ahmadi Muslims throughout the world are urged to write to their local media and officials in protest of what is happening in District Layyah. The International Community is once again urged to take immediate action.

where are the loud mouth noseycows?

ahmadiyyaspakistanislamic caliphate

Previous articles in this series:
in an islamic caliphate: would you live in one
in an islamic caliphate: what rights the Zarminas?

i stumbled back on this song from the

flower power days
when some had the courage to stand up and say no more to violence
when to bring change needed courage and sacrifice
not the sanctimonious voices

younger generation – john sebastian at woodstock

why must every generation think they’re folks are square
and no matter where they’re heads are, they know mom’s aint there.
cause’ I swore when I was small, that I’d remember when
i knew what’s wrong with them that I was smaller then

determined to remember all the cardinal rules
like sunshowers are legal grounds for skipping school
i know I have forgotten maybe one or two
and I hope that I recall them all before the baby’s due
and I’ll know he’ll have a question or two

like hey pop can I go ride my zoom
it goes twohundred miles an hour, suspended on balloons
and can I put a droplet of this new stuff on my tongue
and imagine frothing dragons, while you sit and wreck your lungs
and I must be permissive understanding of the younger generation

and then I know that all I’ve learned my kid assumes
and all my deepest worries must be his cartoons
and still I’ll try to tell him all the things I’ve done
relating to what he can do when he becomes a man
and still he’ll stick his fingers in the fan

and hey pop my girlfriend’s only three
she’s got her own bitty phone
and she is taking lsd
and now that we’re best friends she want’s to give a taste of me
but whats the matter daddy how come you’re looking mean
can it be that you can’t live up to your dreams

40 years and more has gone by, do we even care
what kind of a world we leave behind for the future generations
a world where they still will have to fight for their equal rights, if any at all

not one we can be proud of

[flowerpower: 1967 photograph of George Edgerly Harris III by Bernie Boston]

yes, I write against a religion that
denies the equality and the fundamental rights of every human individual,
denies the freedom to practise any religion other than its own

my views on such religion on this blogs have been criticised

it has also brought criticism of my personal self
a few week ago I was asked by someone calling herself noseycow

If you are a physician, how do you reconcile your intense hatred of any Muslim with your oathe to give each INDIVIDUAL patient your best care?

This is how, noseycows

An incident known to only three individuals; unreported untold –
till now.

I had finished my rotation of senior housejobs and had entered the postgraduate surgical residency. Of the many speciality I had worked through in my rotation, I had come to like paediatric surgery the most.

A speciality not sought after by the young surgical aspirants in the 80s. As with many others, the department was underfunded and understaffed. Led by a consultant dedicated to his work, but not supported by the management. Since starting my residency, I had volunteered many of my off duty hours to work in his wards, scrub up with him in the theatre; for no reason other than it gave a meaning to my life at the time.

I was no longer on the paediatric surgery rota, when one night on my way back from a callout to one of my own patients I was stopped by a wardboy with a callbook. There were no pagers in our hospital in those days. Doctors were called for emergencies by handwritten messages in a ‘call book’, the ‘wardboys’ were sent out to find the doctors in their usual hideouts. The outcome of the emergencies relying how quickly the wardboys could track down the doctors.

That night there was an emergency in the paediatric surgical ward. The houseman needed help, he was too scared to call the consultant at home. He had sent out the ‘callbook’ to me in desperation. Not realising I was no longer in paediatrics and the list on the wall was long outdated.

It was well after midnight. but I have never refused a call.
I went up to the ward. There was an infant, a girl with intestinal obstruction in a state of shock. She was desperately ill, but we had no intensive care units in the hospital.

The houseman was new, on a rotation from the paediatric department. His instructions from his seniors the evening before was to try and resuscitate the child. An emergency operation had been booked for the next morning, provided the child survived the night and was accepted for theatre by the anaesthetists.

And if blood for transfusion could be made available.
Getting blood for transfusion was always the responsibility of the patients’ ‘party’. The parents, the friends, the relatives or the children; whoever would be around for the doctor to hand over the sample and the requisition slip. This little girl only had her parents.

We were the only hospital in the city with a nationalised bloodbank. But they had run out of stocks of her bloodgroup as they claimed. The option left was for the parents to donate themselves or to buy units from one of the many privatised bloodbanks.

The young parents were very poor, from a rural district of Bengal they knew no one in the city. They had somehow scraped the railfare to come to the city hospital. To buy even a single unit of blood was beyond their means. In those days I was no richer and even had I wanted to, I could not offer them any money.

Would they donate themselves?
No, the mother thought it would kill them.
No, the father said it would be against their religion.
They were muslims, they could not be forced to donate nor would they ‘buy’ blood for transfusion.
Their religion came first; they decided to accept the inevitable, they had three other children and the child who was still alive was given up for dead.

The child was the same bloodgroup as I. But I was intensely needlephobic.
The young girl was indeed doomed. Besides it would be a bad precedence if a doctor was to donate his own blood for the treatment of patients.

I do not know what made me go down to the bloodbank and convince the medical officer to be gentle with the needle. One unit of my blood was enough for three baby transfusions. It was not uncommon for rare blood groups to become “lost in transit”, I myself brought them up to the ward with me so it would not go missing and so that no one would know except that houseman of course. I had sworn him to secrecy.

We started transfusing the first unit and still had two more for the theatre. It was almost dawn when I went off to bed. I was too tired to think of the ifs and whys of what I had done.

I was in theatre the next morning with my own unit. My professor called me to say the consultant in the paediatric theatre wanted to see me and I was excused from the rest of our theatre list. My heart sank. I knew it had to do with the incidents of the night. On my way over I thought of various excuses to justify myself.

When I reached, the consultant simply said he had a very sick child he was going to operate on, would I scrub up with him. In relief I agreed. We discussed only the possibilities and prognosis as we scrubbed.

Yes, it was that same little girl.
She had survived the night. And another unit of transfusion had been started.

We prepped and draped the tiny figure in silence. The consultant surprised us all by asking me to swap sides, informed the anaesthetists that I would be the surgeon and for the very first time, handed me the knife.

It was a small gut volvulus, a segment of the intestine was strangulated as was anticipated. I resected it out and anastomosed the healthy ends. Everytime I looked up I saw the blood transfusion trickling in. Only I in that room knew it was my blood.

We did get her safely back to the ward.
As we left the operating theatre, the consultant stopped and shook my hands and thanked me for what I had done the night before. He had known, the house officer had felt compelled to inform him. We never discussed it again.

Whenever I could, I went up to check on the girls progress. I was just another doctor doing a round. One day her bed was empty. She had been discharged home.

I do not know what kind of a life I helped her return to.
I do not know if that little girl survived to even reach her teens.

What I learnt for myself that night was being the doctor we are often the last person who can make that difference between a patient’s life and death. As long as there is a heartbeat, as long as there is an output, it is our responsibility to do everything we can to save that life.

That is how we do it.
That is how I do it, regardless of the race, colour, religion, nationality of my patients.
I have accepted the responsibility, and I am prepared to go beyond the call of duty, everytime.

She would be 24 years old this year.

(I was born to hindu brahmin parents)

So,
a blast from the past as my friend writes to me.
jethro tull
- the lyrics of Ian Anderson to be specific.

I loved this song
since way backwhen –
when (in kolkata) it was considered to be too uncool to even listen to this band.

but Mr Anderson himself explains:

this song was to illustrate how a style of music may go out of popularity
like with every other fashion and fade and then
everything comes back around
and the style rises
again…

being uncool –
is the story of my life – all my life
and words comes around as a reminder

“Too Old To Rock ‘n’ Roll: Too Young To Die”

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end     drank his ale too light.
Death’s head belt buckle     yesterday’s dreams
the transport caf’ prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

Now he’s too old to Rock’n'Roll but he’s too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he’s the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do’s.
For drinks on a Sunday     work on Monday.
They’ve thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they’re too old to Rock’n'Roll and they’re too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies     tears in his eyes
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock’n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you’re never too old to Rock’n'Roll if you’re too young to die.

2008 AD

the United States of America has elected a black president – their first ever black president.
It is an event I did not expect to see in my lifetime.

I am in disbelief.
Why?

There has been many notable first blacks in the country’s sad and often unpleasant history.

On a day when history is about to be re-written,
I can only think of
one person – Elizabeth Eckford
one school – Little Rock Central High School
and the one event – Little Rock Nine
that never failed to leave me in speechless anger,
everytime I remember
and for as long as I can remember.

Little Rock Nine

1957 AD
Nine students who had been chosen to attend Central High because of their excellent grades.
They were nine black students.
Central High was a racially segregated school.

September 4:
Segregationist “citizens’ councils” threatened to hold protests and physically block the black students from entering the school. The Governor Orval Faubus had deployed the Arkansas National Guard to support the segregationists.

On that first day of school, only one of the nine students – Elizabeth Eckford
showed up because she did not receive the phone call about the danger of going to school.

Elizabeth Eckford is depicted in this photograph taken by Will Counts in 1957

She was harassed by White Americans outside the school, and the police had to take her away in a patrol car to protect her.

September 24:
President Dwight Eisenhower sent in the 101st Airborne to escort nine students to school.

153rd Infantry, a Task Force had to hastily organized taking over the entire operation when the paratroopers left and remained on duty until the end of the school year.

October 3:
Georgia Dortch and Jane Emery,
editors of Central High’s student newspaper The Tiger, editorialize:

“Looking back on this year will probably be with regret that integration could not have been accomplished peacefully, without incident, without publicity.” The editors encourage “each individual to maintain a sensible, peaceful neutrality; to accept the situation without demonstration, no matter what personal views are entertained; and to make these, your years in Little Rock Central High School, the happiest and most fruitful of your academic education.”

How long will it take to finally erase all these memories?

How long does it take to right the wrongs?
Fifty years, it seems, hasn’t been long enough.

The Legacy of Little Rock

Juan Williams Thursday, Sep. 20, 2007

The 50th anniversary of the Little Rock school crisis is a powerful lesson in the complicated calculus of social change.

Earlier this year the U.S. Mint issued a silver dollar commemorating the event, and throughout the anniversary’s week there will be other observations marking this turning point in U.S. history. But the joy will be somewhat muted, for American schools are still nearly as segregated as they were 50 years ago.

Fifty years after U.S. troops had to escort nine black children to school in Little Rock, the issue is still how to take race out of the equation when it comes to educating every American child.

The students had written the editorial fifty years ago.
The observation in the Time US was made only a year ago – fifty years hence.

Equality is not confirmed overnight by the election of a president,
it will come only on the day every American child is truly considered as equals.

Its over to each one of you,
each american citizen …

Americaequality

the moon was my ‘chandmama’
my ma sang me so,
chand ~ moon
mama ~ ma’s brother

on nights when the moon was silvery bright,
she would sing to chandmama to come and put a ‘teep’ on my forehead.
teep ~ a bindi,
children, traditionally, would have a ‘kajol’ teep put on foreheads,
kajol ~ kohl based
to keep the evil away.

when I was a little older,
I learnt of the old woman on the moon
who never stopped working on her spinning wheel
all I had to do was to get the right tilt of my head, and there she used to be

with one small step of (a) man,
all folklores I grew up with were shattered
overnight the moon became a barren piece of rock,
a giant nightlamp, helpless, trapped into a spin eternal around earth

many moons have gone by since

the myths broken
the old woman long forgotten,
except on cloudless moonlit nights, when I can almost hear my ma’s voice

I read India too is joining in the giant leap of mankind

but will they be looking for our ‘chandmama’,
forever preparing ‘kajol teeps’
for little children?

when the future of a state or of a nation is decided by a single individual
democracy goes horribly horribly wrong

Tatas pullout jolts Bengal’s industrialisation drive

Sougata Mukhopadhyay / CNN-IBN

Published on Sat, Oct 04, 2008 at 09:18,

Kolkata: West Bengal’s tryst with Nano is over. Ratan Tata has declared that the Nano plant will be shifted out of the state as according to him the atmosphere in Singur was far from industry-friendly.

Tatas announcement to pull out from Singur is a big blow to West Bengal. For two years, West Bengal Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee and Ratan Tata together tried to build the automobile complex in Singur which would have employed at least 6,000 people to begin with.

However, they met with resistance from just a few people who were to lose their lands. In the end the government and the Tatas gave up the fight.

“I think Ms (Mamata) Banerjee has pulled the trigger,” Ratan Tata said at a press conference in Kolkata on Friday

Tata did give a pro-industry certificate to the Left Front government but the state’s image has taken a beating.

It took TWO YEARs for this project to reach this stage – it had not mushroomed overnight -
but Mamata Banerjee’s seige at the factory gates did.
It changed the future of the project in a matter of a week
It has changed the future of my state, for a long long time, if not for ever.

It is argued Tata and the government should have anticipated a rough ride two years ago -
Mamata Banerjee had two years to think and realise what
a Tata pullout would mean for the state.
I doubt if she is capable.

I remain certain
that with billions of Tatas’ money already invested in the permanent infrastructure
she was convinced Tata was unable to pull-out; she deliberately upped her agitation
convincing herself it was too late with three months left to meet the roll-out deadline.

I challenge her to confirm that
her only aim from the outset was to stop this project from going ahead.

She cannot – and there-in lies her hypocrisy -
and her moronic politics of brinksmanship -
of not knowing when and how to stop.

This was about the future of my state, West Bengal.
I do not give a toss for Mamata Banerjee’s political future.

For this fiasco I blame only one person -
Only one person ‘overplayed’ the game of brinksmanship – that is Mamata Banerjee.

The fact remains, had she, as an honest opposition leader,
fought from the outset for the best possible compensation FOR ALL,
and not started her dharna (seige) so late this project would have been up and running.

Let us not forget 8000 farmers had voluntarily given up land, 2000 did not.
What can Mamata Banerjee say to the eight thousands -that their future was never her concern?

As long as this idiot stays in front line politics, no external investors will have the courage to mention the name of Bengal – forget enter the state. We had the glimpse of a better future after 30 years of a left front government. I hope her name goes down in history as a brainless idiot who destroyed our state’s future with her histrionics.

West Bengal RIP

Added: 5 OCTOBER:
I read my response to another blog on this issue.

I challenge Mamata Banerjee now to declare her vision of the future of the state –
will she stop any form of industry coming into the state
from acquiring land to set up their factories?.

As long as this individual remains in active politics,
her face and her name becomes the symbol of failure of industrialisation in the state
her antics will be discussed by every industrialist and they will happily stay away from Bengal.
If we want industries to return to the state after 30 years of damage already done –
it is the responsibility of all concerned, CPM and Trinamul,
to make it a ‘cake-walk’ for them.

I do not give a toss who takes the responsibility to do so, if it is the CPM –
I’ll say its about time.

We were not doing the Tatas any favour – they were doing it to us by taking the risk.

Many people of Bengal wanted Tata to stay –
if a poll is ever conducted, I am certain it will show a majority
democracy has just died in Bengal – along with all the hopes for our future.

It was the TV
humming in the background.
droning on with a bit of this or a bit of that
a song came on – that suddenly pierced my consciousness,
By the time I focussed on the screen it was a commercial for a butterspread.

But the tune continued to play on in my mind.
I waited for the ad to be repeated.
And yesterday.

It was again the TV humming away in the background.
The same droning of a bit of this a bit of that
and then that song started.
I could not have focused
any quicker.

I got the opening lines of the lyrics before the tub of butter hit the screen,
next hour, tiptapping through Google and the Wikipedia,
I learnt of this song that I did not know,
until now.

I also learnt about Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.
It had challenged many of the norms held by Western society in 1968.

Growing up in the 70-80s in middle-class India –
becoming a ‘hippie’ was near impossible.
I realise now I was a flower child at heart,
fate planted me where I was considered more as a weed.
(there’s no pun in it – honest)

In my own way, I have rebelled against the
unquestioned norms and traditions
illogical and unfair establishments
My first act of rebellion was
to let my hair grow long.
To the disgust of my dad and
the school’s Prefect of discipline – yes, got sent home too.

So I share it with you from the musical, “Hair” –

“I Got Life:

by James Rado and Gerome Ragni

I got life, mother – I got laughs, sister – I got freedom, brother
I got good times, man
I got crazy ways, daughter – I got million-dollar charm, cousin
I got headaches and toothaches And bad times too
Like you

I got my hair – I got my head – I got my brains – I got my ears
I got my eyes – I got my nose – I got my mouth
I got my teeth

I got my tongue – I got my chin – I got my neck – I got my tits
I got my heart – I got my soul – I got my back
I got my ass

I got my arms – I got my hands – I got my fingers – Got my legs
I got my feet – I got my toes – I got my liver
Got my blood

I got my guts – I got my muscles – I got life
Life – Life
LIFE!

So why did I not know of this for so long?

I find it has never been staged in
“China, India, Vietnam, the Arctic and Antarctic continents and most African countries.”

He sent me away to see my friends.
And when I came home – it felt different – it was, it was empty.

I went looking for him, everywhere.
No -
not in his bed,
not in the garden
not in his pooh room
not on the sofa tapping into his silly blackbox, -he was gone

I was worried.
Who would give me my tumpy-tickles
who would chase me round and round the garden
who would sing me to sleep every night so tunelessly
who would make me cutie with a brush from tailtip to nosetip
who was going to be so generous with my crunchie-munchies all through the day?

I became thin with worry, and er, without my crunchie-munchies.
I counted days, I counted hours, I counted minutes and then forgot to count.
He was really gone -

Then
one day I came home
I got into the house and I knew
I knew he was back, I ran up the stairs
he was tapping into his taplop – I jumped on his chest, and licked his scruffy face.

He is back, my crunchie-munchie man, the littleindian
a dog’s best friend.

A poem left for me by a new friend – Nanda

The hungry pet is back…
Give me biscuits and more of that
And next time you leave me like this
I’ll go away for sure and roam in street
I warn you master better take care.

Ruffdogsborder terrierfriendspets

They all sang happy bathday.

Did any of you know of a special day for doggies to have a bath!! And then be happy!!!
I do not like baths, I may take a dip in a muddy puddle, once in a while.
But not baths, and smelling clean and fresh.

I am ruff,
a tuff scruff
if you have ever seen one, … how could I be happy?

And they said I was two!
I am not.
I looked and I looked
but I couldn’t find the other me.

I looked at my refreclection on the glass door,
one head,
four paws,
one hungry tummy,
and well, my tail does wag nineteen to the dozen
what can a dog do when given crunchie munchies, I ask you.

I am still just one self, the only Ruff.

Everybody gave me a pat
and they gave me lots of crunchie munchies,
I didn’t even have to be good. I wasn’t complaining.

It was a day special of some sort.
They said next year
I would be three…

And after all that singing, they forgot to give me the bath.

Ruffy boy is now two years old.

.. as we believe, we the humans are not the superior beings?

Never at the top of the food chain, but the very end of it?

Like the fodder will never recognise the predator,
like the grass that will never know what the cattle looks like,
or like the tree is unaware that it’s parts are deemed a delicacy,
what if we too are oblivious of the reality of our existence
we do not recognise our predators?

What if our predators are from a different universe or a different dimension,
perhaps even a different reality?
What if we are just being herded in a human farm – the Earth?
Being fattened only to be harvested as sustenance of an even superior entity?

Like we relish flesh, blood and muscles of other lifeforms
what if it is our souls,
(and of all life-forms known or still alien,)
that somewhere in space-time is being savoured and relished ?

All our souls
dripping with our egos, greed, vanity, thirst for wealth and for power,
the fortune of the victorius ruler exulting at the anguish of the vanquished,
will all one day come to nothing more than just an appetiser at a celestial banquet?

Just a thought,

what ifs?

are the results of an idle mind drifting laterally
from and along the thoughts and beliefs of the norm, cannot be proved, cannot be disproved either – littleindian

It is exactly three years today that she went away.
My bestest friend.
My Ma.

She left me her love and affection.
In a jar.

Whenever she missed me, I am told
she would cut out or draw pictures of flowers, birds, butterflies,
on the flip side of each she wrote,
‘ma’s love and affection’.

How many?
I cannot count.
There are thousands.

I was away from her for fifteen years.
She must have missed me everyday for every year that I was away.
I had hoped someday I would be back with her, so did she.
But we ran out of time.

She had missed me for fifteen years,
she has left me to miss her for the rest of my life.
If there is an afterplace beyond this reality, I know she will still be waiting for me.

but for how long the king,
always the animal deep inside. . . . . hyaenas

and you delude you have won
but for how long
forever?

Who wants to live forever – Queen

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/v/pC4ZOxpu2rs&rel=1]

There’s no time for us
There’s no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us

Who wants to live forever . . . . . Who wants to live forever . . . . . ?
Oh

There’s no chance for us
It’s all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever . . . . . Who wants to live forever. . . . . ?
Oh

Who dares to love forever . . . . . Oh, when love must die
But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever . . . . . And we can love forever. . . . .
Forever is our today

Who wants to live forever. . . . . Who wants to live forever. . . . . ?
Forever is our today. . . . . Who waits forever anyway?

in universal time
the lie which is your life is just a blink
pride, dishonesty and you will soon be rotting to dust for eternity