Photos of my recent Europe trip

The Odour- A short story

The Odour

By the time Rajesh reached BMTC Bus stand it was already late. The crowd was getting bigger and bigger. He cursed his boss. He wanted to smoke, but was hesitant. Last time a police man had warned him. His body was wet with sweat. This year the summer has been unusual in many aspects. It had reached Bangalore rather early. The hot and humid weather was draining his sap. Many buses came and went, but there was no sign of his bus. Whenever a bus arrived the people were swarming its two entrances like bees. It was a struggle for people who wanted to get down. He could hear them cursing.

He stretched his neck to look at the number of the bus. He has been travelling in this route for the past 25 years. His bus number has been changed, but now it has appendages like A, B and C. He looked at his watch, it was already half past eight. His wife had already called twice.

Finally his bus arrived, people from everywhere started running towards it. Before he could know, he was already inside the bus. He felt bad as he could not get a seat. He thought people were always faster than him. He badly needed a seat as he was damn tired. He wanted to sit down and relax his paining neck and may be he also wanted to think about Saroja, his colleague. She too had stayed back today late at the Office with him, assisting him in preparing the reports. He leaned against a supporting rod in the bus and closed his eyes. People were pushing all around.

He closed his eyes and tried to push in the thoughts of Saroja. He had a minimum of forty five minutes of bus journey ahead. ‘Saroja has a strange smell’, Rajesh thought. He was surprised at pleasant smell oozing out from her even in this hot summer. Today evening she had come many a times near him. Whenever she came near him, his nostrils used to open wide and his breath used to get deeper and deeper. He wanted to ask what perfume she uses, or was it the fragrance of her sweat? ‘Whatever it is, it has a soothing effect’, he thought. Bus Conductor was shouting to accommodate more people. Somebody pushed Rajesh and he did not budge nor he opened his eyes.

Somebody pressed against him and a strong pungent smell entered his nostrils. Suddenly Saroja escaped from his thoughts and Rajesh opened his eyes. His breath choked as a pungent, stinking smell enveloped him. In front a teenaged boy was standing and he was being pushed by others. Rajesh wanted to get back away from that boy, but he could not even lift his leg. The bus was so overcrowded. Rajesh could not tolerate the smell. Twitching his face he looked at the boy. The boy wore a sheepish smile. His clothes were dirty or rather they were like starched clothes- hardened by the dirt and sweat. It seemed the boy had never taken a bath in his life time. His eyes though innocent had secretions collected at the edges which too was hardened. Rajesh’s stomach churned. He closed his eyes and leaned back as if to get away from that boy. He could not. He tried to hold his breath to stop that pungent stinking odour entering his lungs. But his efforts were in vain. He could not stop the stinking smell emanating from the boy entering his lungs. He started grumbling, he felt very uneasy. He had never experienced such a repulsive smell in his life. He wanted to get down from the bus and he tried to jostle through. He could not move an inch. People were still trying to get in and were shouting. He was so helpless and miserable. Rajesh looked at the boy again. The boy was looking out of the window at a film poster. It seemed as if his hair has not seen oil or a comb. He saw the boy scratching his head and his eyes unknowingly saw the nails of the boy. Rajesh was shocked. Half an inch long nails had all the dirt on this earth. Rajesh felt dizzy and he closed his eyes. The churning in the somach had not stopped. Rajesh stiffened his body and closed his eyes. He felt the smell entering his veins from the lungs. He felt the smell entering his body cells. He felt he himself is stinking and unknowingly shuddered. The bus had moved and was already nearing Corporation. Some people tried to get down and Rajesh pushed aside that boy and rushed to the door to get down. He heard people scolding him.

He sat down on a bench under the bus shelter. It was dark and there were very few people around. He felt the same odour around him. He tried to close his nostrils and suddenly he took back his hand as he felt his hand was foul smelling. He remembered he had pushed that boy aside with the same hand. The churning in the stomach was unbearable and his body started to sweat. He got up and went near the fence of the Corporation building and he felt as if his guts were violently strained and he could bear it no longer, he vomitted. It was sudden and so powerful vomit made its way through his nostrils also. He took out his water bottle from his bag and found that it was empty. He desperately wanted to clean his mouth. He felt as if that boy in the bus is still hugging him. He felt as if the stinking odour of the boy has enveloped his body. He could feel that smell in his nostrils and now in his mouth also. Rajesh felt dizzy and thought he will not be able to catch another bus for his travel. He hired an auto. He has been travelling in these buses for so many years. He never had a smelly experience like this before.

Auto driver was humming a song. Suddenly he stopping humming turned back and had a quick glance at Rajesh. Rajesh felt uneasy. He wanted to reach home early and wanted to clean himself and wanted to clean the smell of that boy which was still clinging to him. Auto driver rubbed his nose looked at both sides of the road and said ‘Dirty smell!’ Rajesh moved to a corner of the seat. He felt the driver must have found out the source of the bad odour. Was it coming from his mouth? Or from his body? Rajesh pursed his lips tight and slowed his breathing as if to keep it away from the Auto driver. He got down near his house and paid the money. Auto driver took the money in his finger tips and hurriedly left the place rubbing his nose.

There was no one at the home. His son Kirti must have gone for tutions and his wife must be in neighbour’s house. He opened the door with his keys, threw the bag on the sofa and rushed to the bath room.

He never had such a refreshing bath in his life or he thought so. But the strange and stinking smell of that boy was still in his nostrils. He blew his nose, used abundant after shave, but it was still hovering around Rajesh. He sat down and switched on the TV. He wanted to forget everything. The door bell rang.

Rajesh’s wife Anjana came inside with a vegetable bag. She had gone to neighbourhood vegetable shop. She kept her shopping bag on the dining table and apologised for returning late from the shop. She looked at Rajesh and asked him,

‘Are not you feeling well? Whats the matter with you? Why you look so dull?’

Rajesh was hesitant to tell about the stinking smelly boy and his gut churning experience on the way. ‘Oh, nothing’ he said, ‘I am just tired’.

Rajesh indeed was tired. After dinner he sat in front of the TV. The image of the dirty boy with his long dirt filled nails and huge hardened secretions in the eyes came to his mind. That peculiar, unexplainable stinking odour started to fill his nostrils. Again his guts started to churn. He pulled back his head and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget everything. He forcibly tried to rope in some pleasant thoughts in to his mind. His wife came to sat next to him. She too was watching TV. After some time she rubbed her nose and complained of the smell from the gutter. She got up and closed the windows. Rajesh felt uneasy. Is it the smell of the gutter or the odour from his body? He felt feverish. He did not go to bedroom to sleep because he was afraid that she would find out the source of the smell. He lied down on the sofa.

It was a strange dream. All these years his dreams were only images. But today his dreams consisted of odours. He saw an image approaching him. He was the same boy, the boy who was adjacent to him in the bus, the boy with the stinking odour. Rajesh wanted to turn away and close his eyes. But he could not move. That boy came nearer and nearer. He could see his dirty mangled hair, face with tar like dirt, thick swollen lips and saliva dripping from it. Suddenly the stinking odour engulfed him. Rajesh wanted to shout, but no voice came out from his throat. That boy came still nearer put his hand on the shoulder of Rajesh. As if out of a jolt Rajesh woke up. He was sweating profusely. He saw his son Kirti standing in front of him with his hand on the shoulder. Kirti rubbed his nose and murmured something about the smell. Kirti called his mother. Rajesh had high fever. He was given a crocin. He told his wife he will sleep on the sofa itself as it is much comfortable. The whole night Rajesh did not sleep a wink. Whenever he tried to sleep, he would get those stinking dreams.

Next morning he could not get up as he felt weak. His wife advised him to apply leave for a week and take rest for which he obediently obliged. He was no mood to travel in those buses.

One week passed like a flash. During the leave period he completed many of the house hold chores and minor repairs. He almost forgot the boy with the stinking odour. Next Monday he left to his office as usual. He caught his usual bus. There were many vacant seats. He was in a cheerful mood. As bus moved by, the crowd in the bus increased. There were many people standing and he was surprised to find that seat adjacent to him was vacant. No body sat next to him. The people who were standing were looking at Rajesh with twitched faces and they were rubbing their noses. He saw as if in a dream people moving away from him.

Dr.J.Balakrishna

E-Mail: j.balakrishna@gmail.com

Vasumitra and Sudhana

Yesterday I was watching South Korea's Director Kim Ki-duk's Samaritan Girl movie in which the adolescent Jae-yeong (Min-jeong Seo) tells her classmate and best friend Yeo-jin (Ji-min Kwak) the tale of an Indian prostitute named Vasumitra whose clients, as the curious legend goes, became devout Buddhists after their sexual encounter with her.

I too became curious about this legend as Buddhism, in particular, argued that the ultimate truth can be discovered only by those who awaken to the reality of desire and are able to transmute it. With the development of the Mahayana, the underground 'transgressive attitude' got official affirmation. Since emptiness implied the non-existence of sin and Two Truths implied the identity of desire and awakening Zen Buddhism could both repudiate and affirm desire while Tantric Buddhism could claim that “the energy of the passions is the necessary catalyst of awakening”. And this is what I gathered about Vasumitra.

In the "Gandavyuha Sutra" the last chapter of the Avatamsaka Sutra, one of East Asian Buddhism's most important Mahayana texts, we can read the story of the young Buddhist Sudhana as he seeks enlightenment on a pilgrimage that leads him through a sequence of 52 different masters. The twenty-fifth of these is the courtesan bodhisattva Vasumitra, from whose seductive powers, Sudhana must learn a lesson. In the Avatamsaka Sutra it is written: People in Ratnavyuha, the city of Vasumitra, who did not know of Vasumitra's virtues or the scope of her knowledge, said to Sudhana, "What has someone like you -- with senses so calm and subdued, so aware, so clear, without confusion or distraction, your gaze focused discreetly right before you, your mind not overwhelmed by sensations, not clinging to appearances, your eyes averted from involvement in all forms, your mind so cool and steady, your way of life profound, wise, oceanic, your mind free from agitation or despondency -- what have you to do with Vasumitra? You should not have any lust for her, your head should not be turned by her, you should not have any such impure thoughts, you should not be ravaged by such desires, you should not be under the power of a woman, you should not be so bewitched, you should not enter the realm of temptation, you should not sink into the mire of sensuality, you should not be bound by the snares of the devil, you should not do what should not be done."

Others, however, urging Sudhana to seek out Vasumitra, provide directions to a house that in its greatness resembles a castle. There, he sees her:

There he saw Vasumitra, who was beautiful, with golden skin and black hair, her limbs and body well-proportioned, more beautiful in form than all celestial and human beings in the realm of desire, her voice finer even than that of the god Brahma.

Vasumitra tells Sudhana:

"All who come to me with minds full of passion, I teach them so that they become free of passion."

She then adds:

"Some attain dispassion just by embracing me, and achieve an enlightening concentration called 'womb receiving all sentient beings without rejection.' Some attain dispassion just by kissing me, and attain an enlightening concentration called 'contact with the treasury of virtue of all beings.'"

This woman was settled in a polluted, fearsome realm, making it hard for people to believe in her; so the land was called Danger. By means of meditation, she entered into defiled realms and turned them all into spheres of knowledge; by virtue of great compassion, she remained in the ordinary world, and by virtue of knowledge she remained unaffected, so her city was called City of Jewel Arrays.

Her compassion and decision to remain in the ordinary world and lead others to enlightenment is, of course, characteristic of the bodhisattvas of Mahayana Buddhism. The commentary tells us how she leads others to enlightenment:

Vasumitra went on to speak of holding her hand, getting up on her couch, gazing at her, embracing her, and kissing her. Holding her hand means seeking salvation. Getting up on her couch means ascendancy of formless knowledge. Gazing at her means seeing truth, embracing her means not departing from it. Kissing her means receiving instruction.

This illustrates how all who come near enter a door of total knowledge, unlike those who only seek to get out of bondage and do not arrive at the ultimate dispassion -- supreme knowledge of the real universe that remains in the polluted world without being defiled, freely helping the living, neither bound nor freed.

In the end it is not clear whether Sudhana actually slept with Vasumitra or not. But one thing is clear- one can achieve dispassion by an encounter with passion and thereby attain fuller enlightenment.

The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin

I had made few notes from Verrier Elwin's book

The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin many years back. Recently I found that scrap book and here I share with you some of the points I noted down:


The Tribal World of Verrier Elwin
Oxford University Press, London, 1964
***
Now in relation to India I remembered how my family had made money, such as it was, out of India and my countrymen had gone to India to exploit it and to rule.
I though, therefore that I might go to India as an act of reperation, that from my family somebody should go to give instead of to get, to serve with the poorest people instead of ruling them, to become one with the country that we had helped to dominate and subdue (p.36).
***


For my first long stay there I was lucky to get a room in Gandhi's own house. From the cottage I looked out across the great expanse of sand and water of the Sabaramati river. On the further bank I could see in panorama many of the forces against which Gandhi was in revolt. There were the tall chimneys of the factories which were helping to destroy the hand- spinning industry. There was the palace of the Collector, syumbol of foreign domination which had sapped the manliness of India. There was the railway which, In Gandhi's view had done so much to ruin the quiet peasant life of the villages. Opposite were the low rooms of the simple dwellings of the ashram. The forces of the world and the forces of the spirit were here in vivid symbol arrayed against one another- machine force against soul- force, force of arms against love force (p.52).
***
Bapu regarded her (Mirabehn- Ms.Slade) as his daughter and I was greatly escited one day in 1930 when he said to me, 'As Mirabehn is my daughter, so you shall be my son.' From that day I regarded myself as a citizen of India (p.55).
***
This is the one great cultural interest of the people. A girl dancer is compared by the Gonds to a lovely tree moving to the unseen power of nature, and one of their riddles asks, 'There is a dumb bird that sits on a beautiful tree; shake the tree and bird awakes and sings'. The answer is, 'the anklets on the feet of a girl who goes to the dance' (p.104).
***
The attitude of the Gonds and Baigas to the war was interesting. an old woman put it very well. 'This', she said, 'is how God equalizes things. Our sons and daughters die young, of hunger or disease or the attacks of wild beasts. The sons and daughters of the English could grow in comfort and happiness. But God sends madness upon them and they destroy each other and so in the end their great knowledge and their religion is useless and we are all the same' (p.121).
***
I found the people talking poetry. An old woman speaks of fire as a flower blossoming on a dry tree, of an umpress as a peacock with one leg. Children playing around the fire at night ask each other riddles which are sometimes real poems; a lamp is a little sparrow that scatters its feathers about the house. A man speaking of his pregnant wife, says to me, 'She must be treated as a flower, or the light may fade from her bosom. The poorest copt has legs of gold and a frame of jewels when a lovely girl is sleeping on it' (p.144).
***
The Baigas are very fond of pigs. One day a man came to me complaining that his wife had run away with some one else. 'That', he said, 'I could have borne, but they took away my favourite pig' (p.149).
***
To the people a dance is not just an extra, a luxury to be indulged in or not as one feels inclines; where it has remained, it is an essential force in life, as natural as breathing or eating, and always done with passionate delight. The Acholi dancers never smiled; they were too intent, too keyed up; they were at serious business, they were entranced (p.216).
***

Verrier Elwin
Verrier Elwin, one of the most interesting Englishmen to have worked in India this century, came to his adopted country when he was only 25. A few years later, he moved to a tribal village in the heart of India. He lived most of the rest of his life among the tribals of India, whom he loved and worked for, and about whom he wrote beautifully, intensely and extensively.
Read more about him:
http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/story.asp?storyCode=160678&sectioncode=6

But why he treated his tribal wife Kosi, the way he did? Read more about it:
http://www.indianexpress.com/ie/daily/19990305/ige05051.html

Kathoeys of Thailand

This is a writeup about Katoeys of Thailand. Photographs were taken by Renu when we visited Thailand recently:

The concept of three sexes is ancient in Thailand. Creation tales tell of a man and woman who had three children: a male, a female and a third sex. This third sex is considered by many Thais to be the ladyboy (or katoey). The term katoey is a slang word for a man who chooses to live as a woman. This can mean anything from the guy who wears drag for fun once in a while, right through to transexuals who have had a complete sex change operation.

Outside Alcazar Cabaret

A katoey will often begin to take female hormones around puberty to inhibit masculine growth. Many will later have breast implants and some, but not all, will have full sex-reassignment surgery to complete their transformation. Estimates put the number of ladyboys in Thailand at close to 200 000 individuals. No one really seems to know why Thailand has so many ladyboys.

Alcazar Cabaret

Ladyboys are employed in many customer service positons, as they are usually very polite and extremely well groomed, not to mention extremely pretty. Kathoeys often work in pharmacies, behind shop counters, as receptionists and in restaurants. Several popular Thai models, singers and movie stars are kathoeys, and Thai newspapers often print photos of the winners of female and kathoey beauty contests side by side. The phenomenon is not restricted to urban areas; there are kathoeys in most villages, and kathoey beauty contests are commonly held as part of local fairs.

Ladyboys are well known for taking exceptionally good care of themselves.

Kathoeys are more visible and more accepted in Thai culture than transgender or transsexuals are in Western countries or even than in the Indian subcontinent. Buddhism teaches tolerance, and transvestites and transsexuals are more open about it in Thailand. Beneath the surface though there may be more prejudice than appears on the surface but laws were passed in 1997 to make everyone equal. This still doesn't prevent discrimination. Kathoey are portrayed in the media as figures of fun - while this may seem harmless, it means that they are not taken seriously. Kathoey are sometimes referred to as the third sex.

Many transgenders feel from an early age that they were born the wrong gender but usually do not undertake surgery until they are older. Some lady-boys can not afford to have the sex change operations required and continue with male physical attributes, but dress and portray themselves as women. Some kathoey have surgery in stages as they can afford it so they may have breast implants but still have male genitals.

After the show they invite you for a photograph- for a payment

Thailand's ladyboys are famous around the world. Transvestite caberets Alcazar and Tiffanys are huge in Thailand and are justifiably famous too. Staged in huge, modern theatres, they rival anything seen around the world for their style, costumes and fun.

With days collection

An unusual ladyboy stories is that of Muay Thai boxer Parinya Kiatbusaba, better known by her nickname of Nong Toom. He would enter the weigh-in wearing full make up, and sometimes a wig, and goad his opponents by blowing kisses and generally acting effeminately. One of the reasons he entered the sport was to pay for a sex change operation. In 1999, at the age of 19, he underwent sex-change surgery in Bangkok, and reappeared as a statuesque and pretty female. She was now forbidden to fight, and took up a career in entertainment. A film called Beautiful Boxer was made about her life.

A team of katoey volleyball players made headlines in Thailand with a meteoric rise to the national championships. Two films have been made about their exploits.

Well, pay and hug me for a photograph

Mahatma Gandhi and Nobel Prize

Mahatma Gandhi never won the Nobel Prize for Peace, but the apostle of truth and non-violence continues to inspire people around the globe who go on to win the coveted honour - US President Barack Obama being the latest among them.

Obama had called Gandhi the 'real hero of mine' and paid rich tributes to the great man's ideals only last week.

The committee that picks the winner has apologised for missing out in honouring Gandhi and, as if to compensate for it, has often chosen to bestow the prize on those inspired by the Mahatma.

When Tibetan spiritual leader Dalai Lama was awarded the peace prize in 1989, the Nobel Committee chairman had said this was 'in part a tribute to the memory of Mahatma Gandhi'.

Before the Dalai Lama, of course, was Martin Luther King, Jr. The 1964 laureate had acknowledged Gandhi as one of his inspirations.

Aung San Suu Kyi, the resistance leader from Myanmar who won the prize in 1991, as well as Nelson Mandela of South Africa who shared the 1993 prize with Frederik Willem de Klerk, too found inspiration from the life and works of Gandhi -- to fight injustice and strive for a more equal society while abjuring violence.

On Friday, the Gandhian club among the Nobel laureates got one more member.

Obama has talked about how Gandhi's thoughts and his autobiography impressed him deeply.

On Oct 2, as the world celebrated the International Day of Non-Violence on Gandhi's birth anniversary, Obama said: 'Gandhi's teachings and ideals, shared with Martin Luther King Jr. on his 1959 pilgrimage to India, transformed American society through our civil rights movement.

'The America of today has its roots in the India of Mahatma Gandhi and the non-violent social action movement for Indian independence which he led. We must renew our commitment to live his ideals and to celebrate the dignity of all human beings.'

These remarks came a month after Obama told a gathering of pupils that Gandhi would be his ideal dinner guest.

When a student at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Virginia, asked him which person, alive or dead, he would like to dine with, the president said: 'I think it might be Gandhi, who's a real hero of mine. It would probably be a really small meal because he didn't eat a lot.'

The Nobel committee has acknowledged that Gandhi had been nominated several times - finally days before his murder in January 1948. The omission has been publicly regretted by later members of the Nobel Committee.

In 1948, the year of Gandhi's death, the Nobel Committee declined to award a prize on the ground that 'there was no suitable living candidate' that year.

(Courtesy: Yahoo News)