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Thursday, June 28, 2018

Mao's China or Modi's India?

The world may have forgotten the June of 1989, when thousands of unarmed students and activists were butchered by the Chinese state in what came to be known as the Tiananmen Square massacre. Sir Alan Donald, the then British ambassador to China, wrote in a secret diplomatic cable to the UK Foreign Office that at least 10,000 people were killed; wounded students bayoneted as they begged for their lives and a mother shot as she tried to help her three-year-old daughter were just two horrific instances recorded by him.
The students were merely asking for 'democracy'; a word which is amorphous and selective in today's world as is 'human rights'. They sought freedom from corruption and nepotism in Communist Party of China, seeking freedom of speech and press.
When party leader Zhao Ziyang sought a peaceful dialogue with the students, he was arrested. Thousands of activists were reportedly kept under house arrest, some allegedly tortured in custody and many went missing.
Unfortunately, the government of India, under its Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, suddenly remembered its 'Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai' slogan and ordered government-controlled TV channels to give minimum coverage to the massacre. He indicated to China that "it will not revel in China's domestic troubles and offer some political empathy instead". While in Russia, Mikhail Gorbachev went one step further and switched off the microphone when human rights activist Andrei Sakharov rose on the podium to demand the recall of Soviet Ambassador to China as a protest.
The ripples of the movement were so powerful that they can still be felt by those who advocate for freedom from fear and state oppression in China. Young lawyer Xu Zhiyong was jailed in 2013 for four years for starting a movement to take the Chinese constitutional rights – rights to vote, speak, criticise the government, enjoy the dignity of the person – seriously. Swedish human rights activist Peter Dahlin was detained for 23 days in an unknown location for working in support of the families of human rights lawyers, journalists and other activists, who were under attack and went missing. However, it was the arrest of Liu Xiaobo, literary critic and human rights activist, which caught the world's attention. The Nobel Peace Prize laureate, who prevented further massacre at Tiananmen Square through his peaceful negotiations, died of cancer as a state prisoner with no permission to travel abroad for treatment.
Each year, hundreds of activists go missing in China for speaking against the government. A few of them who are eventually released and deported narrate frightening stories of alleged torture through beating, deprivation of food, water and sleep, forced confessions on state-controlled media. Nearly 2,761 such cases have been reported from 2012 to 2015. Hundreds of missing cases go unreported in the media as even the families of the activists are under house arrest and barred from speaking out.
Michael Caster, who worked with Peter Dahlin, has written a book titled People's Republic of the Disappeared based on the 'black jails' or 'Residential Surveillance at a Designated Location' which simply is an ambiguous term for undisclosed places where people who dare speak against the party or the government are kept following state-sponsored abduction. It has been legalised now.
Being paranoid about its own citizens, China has managed to strangle even the religious practices of its Muslim and Christian citizens. Uighur Muslims and Roman Catholics are under constant surveillance. Around 10 million Muslims in the country are not allowed any of their customs including long beards, hijab, keeping Islamic names or even fasting during Ramzan.
Uighur Muslims are being sent to unacknowledged 're-education camps' to unlearn Islam and discard religious practices. They are made to learn Communist Party of China principles, sing party songs and thank President Xi Jinping every morning at breakfast. Around 120,000 Muslims are said to be living in the camps, as also Christians.
Only churches set up by the government are allowed in China and they have no relation with the Vatican. Church leaders, who are recognised by the Vatican and not by the government, are detained as was the case of Bishop Peter Shao Zhumin, who went missing last year. He reappeared after seven months of detention. In January this year, the government blew up Golden Lampstead Church in Shanxi province amid protests from its 50,000-strong congregation.
TV stations have been banned from airing programmes with 'excessive entertainment and vulgar tendencies' with two hours a day reserved for party news. Social media is closely monitored for anti-party activities.
In a democratic country like ours, the Golden Quadrilateral project of 5,846 kms linking Mumbai, Chennai, Kolkata and Delhi took 11 years to complete beginning from 2001 to 2012. But China completed 34,000 kms expressway in six years beginning from 1998. When land acquisition for road building starts in India, so does a slew of protests and court cases dragging the project for years. But China often takes the easy and not-so-democratic way out. In October 2011, the residents of a new enclave were given an ultimatum of three weeks to accept the government compensation and move out so their houses could be bulldozed to make way for roads.
And the world turns not only a blind eye but also deaf ears to the plight of the 1.4 billion citizens of one of the super powers which has effectively turned the country into a virtual prison through facial recognition, access to each person's smartphone, robot police and worst internet freedom in the world. Not to mention bull-dozing its way into neighbouring Tibet and India.
The United Nations which often hides behind silence when it comes to China's human rights violations, has suddenly found its voice to warn India about the army's "unlawful killings" in Jammu and Kashmir. Our human rights activists and liberals who have been hollering about the 'environment of fear' that has supposedly engulfed India under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, must remember that they have all the freedom to write, shout on television channels, hold candles and take out marches, express their anger on the social media and bad-mouth India on western platforms; in Mao’s China which they look up to, they would just go missing for actions lesser than these while in India, which is a true albeit a flawed democracy, they will always have their freedom of speech and expression.
The Arundhati Roys of India must remember that while they "love India not as a nation but so much of the music, poetry, river valleys," they must also remember that if India does not remain as a nation with its state machinery, policies, military, there will be no more music, no more poetry and no more river valleys for them to save. No country can turn into their impossible utopia.
Though in the last four years we have seen a hitherto unprecedented attack on the actions and words of the country’s Prime Minister by the liberals, it is to Modi’s credit that he has continued on the path of development as an answer to all the attacks; be it connecting North-East to the rest of the country or improving the lives of tribals as an answer to extremism. It must only be because of the compassion he has for his fellow countrymen. Human rights and true freedom are not separable from India’s idea of non-violent justice.
Whenever I read about how China is slowly turning into a police state, I am reminded of Ayn Rand's novella 'Anthem'. A dystopian world divided in 'Cities', governed by councils, babies separated from mothers and raised by the state, their education, profession decided by a group of people. A collectivistic society where individuals live as mere ghosts of men and women, who have no idea of the existence of their freedom to think, to choose and to love. It is my hope that one day my country too will not turn into that dystopian society where freedom exists only for select individuals.
After all, as Albert Camus wrote in Resistance, Rebellion and Death, "If justice has a meaning in this world,… it cannot, by its very essence, divorce itself from compassion". It’s now time for liberals to choose between Mao’s China or Modi’s India.

https://swarajyamag.com/politics/if-modi-indeed-was-dictator-india-would-like-communist-china

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

ಮಾನವ ಹಕ್ಕು ?

ನಮ್ಮ ಆಂಗ್ಲ ಪತ್ರಿಕೆಯೊಂದು ಮೊನ್ನೆ ಮೊನ್ನೆ ಕಾಶ್ಮೀರದಲ್ಲಿ ಸೈನ್ಯದ ಜೀಪಿಗೆ ನಾಗರಿಕನೊಬ್ಬನನ್ನು ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಂಡು ಹೋದ ಘಟನೆಯನ್ನು ಹೇಗೆ ಹೇಗೋ ತಿರುಚಿ ಮುರುಚಿ ಜಲಿಯನ್‍ವಾಲಾ ಬಾಗ್‍ ಹತ್ಯಾಕಾಂಡಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಲಿಸಿತು. ಆ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೇನಾಧಿಕಾರಿಯನ್ನು ಜನರಲ್ ಡೈಯರ್‌ಗೆ ಹೋಲಿಸಿ ಸಮಾಧಾನಪಟ್ಟುಕೊಂಡಿತು.
ಕಾಶ್ಮೀರದಲ್ಲಿ ನಡೆದದ್ದು ಹಿಂಸೆಯನ್ನು ತಡೆಯುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ; ಬ್ರಿಟಿಷರದ್ದು ಕುತಂತ್ರದ ಕಗ್ಗೊಲೆ. ನಿಜವಾಗಿಯೂ ಜಲಿಯನ್‍ವಾಲಾ ಬಾಗ್‍ನ್ನು ಹೋಲಿಸಬೇಕಾದ್ದು ಇಂದಿರಾ ತಂದ ತುರ್ತುಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಗೆ. ಇರಲಿ. ಸುಮಾರು 98 ವರ್ಷಗಳ ಹಿಂದೆ ನಡೆದ ಜಲಿಯನ್‍ವಾಲಾ ಬಾಗ್‍ ಹತ್ಯಾಕಾಂಡದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಓದಿದಾಗೆಲ್ಲ ನನಗೆ ನೆನಪಾಗೋದು 1989ರ ಚೀನಾದ ಟಿಯಾನನ್ಮೆನ್‍ ಸ್ಕ್ವೇರ್‌ ಮಾರಣಹೋಮ. ಸರಕಾರವೇ ತಾನು ರಕ್ಷಿಸಬೇಕಾದ ಜನಗಳ ಮೇಲೆ ಮಾಡಿದ ಹಿಂಸಾಚಾರ. ನಾವು ಭಾರತೀಯರೆಲ್ಲ ತುಂಬ ಹಗುರವಾಗಿ ತೆಗೆದುಕೊಂಡಿರುವ ಪ್ರಜಾಪ್ರಭುತ್ವ ಬೇಕೆಂದು ಆಶಿಸಿ ಶಾಂತಿಯಿಂದ ಪ್ರತಿಭಟಿಸಲು ಹೋದ ನೂರಾರು ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳು, ಬುದ್ಧಿಜೀವಿಗಳು ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲದೆ ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯ ಜನರೂ ಪ್ರಾಣ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡ, ಇನ್ನೂ ಜೈಲಿನಲ್ಲೇ ಕೊಳೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ, ನಾಪತ್ತೆಯಾಗಿರುವ ಘಟನೆ.
ಆ ಟಿಯಾನನ್ಮೆನ್ ಸ್ಕ್ವೇರ್‍ ಪ್ರತಿಭಟನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕಮ್ಯುನಿಸ್ಟ್ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ಮತ್ತು ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ಸೇತುವೆಯಾಗಿದ್ದ, ನೂರಾರು ಪ್ರತಿಭಟನಾಕಾರರನ್ನು ಹಿಂಸೆಯಿಂದ ರಕ್ಷಿಸಿದ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕ ನೊಬೆಲ್ ಶಾಂತಿ ಪುರಸ್ಕೃತ ಲಿಯು ಕ್ಸಿಯಾಬೋನನ್ನು ಇಷ್ಟು ವರ್ಷ ಪದೇ ಪದೇ ಜೈಲಿಗಟ್ಟಿದ ಚೀನಾ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ಮೊನ್ನೆ ಕ್ಯಾನ್ಸರ್‌ ಚಿಕಿತ್ಸೆಗಾಗಿ ಪರೋಲ್ ಮೇಲೆ ಜೈಲಿನಿಂದ ಕಳಿಸಿತು. ಆದರೆ ಕೊನೆ ಹಂತದಲ್ಲಿರುವ ಅವನ ಕ್ಯಾನ್ಸರ‍್‍ಗೆ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ಹೇಳಿದ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಯಲ್ಲೇ ನಾಮಕಾವಾಸ್ತೆ ಚಿಕಿತ್ಸೆ ಕೊಡಲಾಗುತ್ತಿದೆ.
ಮಾನವ ಹಕ್ಕು ಅನ್ನೋ ಪದವನ್ನು ತಮ್ಮ ಶಬ್ದಕೋಶದಲ್ಲೇ ಇರಗೊಡದ ಚೀನಾ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ತನ್ನ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಬರೆದ, ಮಾತನಾಡಿದ ಯಾರನ್ನೂ ಬಿಟ್ಟಿಲ್ಲ. ಪ್ರಜಾಪ್ರಭುತ್ವ ವ್ಯವಸ್ಥೆಯ ಪರವಾಗಿ ಮಾತನಾಡಿದ ಸಾವಿರಾರು ವಕೀಲರು, ಪತ್ರಕರ್ತರು, ಕಲಾವಿದರು, ಚಳುವಳಿಗಾರರು ಇವತ್ತಿಗೂ ಏನಾದರೆಂದು ಅವರ ಮನೆಯವರಿಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಕೆಲವರು ಜೈಲಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಜೀವಂತ ಶವವಾಗಿ ವರ್ಷಗಟ್ಟಲೆ ಉಳಿದರೆ, ಹಲವರು ದೇಶ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಹೋಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ಇನ್ನುಳಿದವರು ಮತ್ತೆಂದೂ ಬರದಂತೆ ಕಾಣೆಯಾಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ.
ವ್ಯಾಟಿಕನ್ ಕಳುಹಿಸುವ ಕ್ರಿಶ್ಚಿಯನ್‍ ಪಾದ್ರಿಗಳೂ ಕಾಣೆಯಾಗುತ್ತಾರೆ; ಯಾಕೆಂದರೆ ಚೀನಾ ವ್ಯಾಟಿಕನ್‍ ಚರ್ಚನ್ನು ತಿರಸ್ಕರಿಸಿ ತನ್ನದೇ ಚರ್ಚ್ ಸ್ಥಾಪನೆ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಂಡಿದೆ. ಇನ್ನು ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಇರುವ ಮುಸ್ಲಿಮರು ತಮ್ಮ ಧರ್ಮದ ಚಿಹ್ನೆ ದಾಡಿ ಇಟ್ಟುಕೊಳ್ಳುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ. ಹೆಂಗಸರು ಬುರ್ಖಾ ಹಾಕುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ. ಮುಸ್ಲಿಮ್ ಹೆಸರನ್ನು ಮಕ್ಕಳಿಗೆ ಇಡುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ. ರಂಜಾನ್‍ ಹಬ್ಬಕ್ಕೆ ಉಪವಾಸ ಮಾಡುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ.
’ಬರಿಗಾಲ ವಕೀಲ’ ಎಂದೇ ಚೀನಾದಲ್ಲಿ ಖ್ಯಾತನಾಗಿರುವ ಚೆನ್ ಗ್ವಾಂಗ್‍ಚೆಂಗ್‍ ಸರ್ಕಾರದ ವಿರುದ್ಧದ ಹೋರಾಟಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ಅನುಭವಿಸಿದ ಕಷ್ಟಗಳು ಒಂದೆರಡಲ್ಲ. ಬಾಲ್ಯದಿಂದಲೇ ಕುರುಡನಾದ ಚೆನ್‍ ಅಂಗವಿಕಲ ಹಕ್ಕುಗಳಿಗಾಗಿ, ಚೀನಾದ ’ಒಂದೇ ಮಗು’ ಶಾಸನದ ಮತ್ತು ಅಧಿಕಾರಿಗಳ ಭ್ರಷ್ಟಾಚಾರದ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಹೋರಾಟ ಆರಂಭಿಸಿದ. ಅವನ ಜನಪ್ರಿಯತೆಗೆ ಹೆದರಿದ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ಅವನನ್ನು ಅಪಹರಿಸಿ, ಚಿತ್ರಹಿಂಸೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟು ಗೃಹಬಂಧನದಲ್ಲಿಟ್ಟಿತು. ಆದರೂ ತನ್ನ ಹೋರಾಟ ಬಿಡದ ಚೆನ್‍ ಏಳು ವರ್ಷದ ನಂತರ ಒಂದು ದಿನ ತನ್ನ ಮನೆಯಿಂದ ಕಾವಲುಗಾರರ ಕಣ್ಣುತಪ್ಪಿಸಿ ನೆಲದ ಮೇಲೆ ತೆವಳಿಕೊಂಡು ತನ್ನ ಊರು ದಾಟಿ, ಅಮೇರಿಕಾದ ಎಂಬೆಸಿ ಸೇರಿ ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಅಮೇರಿಕಾಗೆ ತೆರಳಿದ. ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದ ತನ್ನ ಹೋರಾಟವನ್ನು ಮುಂದುವರೆಸಿದ. ಟೈಮ್‍ ಮ್ಯಾಗಜೀನ್‍ನ ’ತಮ್ಮ ಶಕ್ತಿ, ಬುದ್ಧಿವಂತಿಕೆ ಮತ್ತು ನೈತಿಕ ಉದಾಹರಣೆಗಳಿಂದ ಜಗತ್ತನ್ನು ಬದಲಾಯಿಸಿದ ನೂರು ಮಂದಿ’ಯಲ್ಲಿ ಚೆನ್ ಕೂಡ ಒಬ್ಬ.
ಇಂತಹ ಉದಾಹರಣೆಗಳು ಚೀನಾದಲ್ಲಿ ಸಾವಿರಾರು. ಹೊಡೆತ, ಉಪವಾಸ, ನಿದ್ರೆ-ನೀರು-ಔಷಧಿ ಕೊಡದೆ ಚಿತ್ರಹಿಂಸೆಗಳು, ಒತ್ತಾಯದ ತಪ್ಪೊಪ್ಪಿಗೆ ಇವೆಲ್ಲದರಿಂದ ನರಳಿ ಕೊನೆಗೂ ಬಿಡುಗಡೆಯಾದ ಸ್ವೀಡನ್‍ನ ಎನ್‍ಜಿಒ ಒಂದರ ಮಾನವ ಹಕ್ಕು ಕಾರ್ಯಕರ್ತ ಪೀಟರ‍್ ಡಾಹ್ಲಿನ್‍ನಂತಹ ಸುಮಾರು ಎರಡೂವರೆ ಸಾವಿರಕ್ಕೂ ಹೆಚ್ಚು ಕಾರ್ಯಕರ್ತರನ್ನು 2012-2015ರ ಅವಧಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಚೀನಾ ಬಂಧಿಸಿದೆ.
ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಟೀವಿ ಚಾನಲ್‍ಗಳು ’ಅತಿ ಮನೋರಂಜಿತ’ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮಗಳನ್ನು ಪ್ರಸಾರ ಮಾಡುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ ಮತ್ತು ದಿನಾ ಎರಡು ಗಂಟೆ ಕಮ್ಯುನಿಸ್ಟ್ ಪಾರ್ಟಿಗೆ ಸಂಬಂಧಪಟ್ಟ ನ್ಯೂಸ್‍ ಹಾಕಲೇಬೇಕು. ಚಿತ್ರಮಂದಿರಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಜುಲೈ ೧ರಿಂದ ಕಮ್ಯುನಿಸ್ಟ್ ಪಾರ್ಟಿಗೆ ಮತ್ತು ಸಮಾಜವಾದಕ್ಕೆ ಸಂಬಂಧಪಟ್ಟ ವೀಡಿಯೋಗಳನ್ನು ಕಡ್ಡಾಯವಾಗಿ ನೋಡಲೇಬೇಕು. ನಮ್ಮಲ್ಲಿ ಮೋದಿ ಸರ್ಕಾರ ತನ್ನ ಪಾರ್ಟಿ ಸಿದ್ಧಾಂತಗಳನ್ನು ಸಿನೆಮಾ ಹಾಲ್‍ಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ತೋರಿಸಲು ಪ್ರಾರಂಭಿಸಿದರೆ ಆಗುವ ಪ್ರತಿಭಟನೆಗಳನ್ನು ಊಹಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳಿ.
ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಫೇಸ್‍ಬುಕ್‍, ಟ್ವಿಟ್ಟರ‍್ ಇಲ್ಲ, ಸರ್ಕಾರಿ ಪ್ರಾಯೋಜಿತ ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ಜಾಲತಾಣಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಸರ್ಕಾರದ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಮಾತನಾಡುವಂತಿಲ್ಲ. ಕಡ್ಡಿಯನ್ನು ಗುಡ್ಡ ಮಾಡಿ, ನೋಡಿ ಈ ಗುಡ್ಡ ನಿಮ್ಮನ್ನೇ ಹೂತುಹಾಕುತ್ತದೆ ಎಂದು ಹೆದರಿಸುವ, ವಾಕ್ ಮತ್ತು ಪತ್ರಿಕಾ ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಸಿಕ್ಕಾಪಟ್ಟೆ ಮಾತಾಡುವ ನಮ್ಮ ಕುಬುದ್ಧಿಜೀವಿಗಳು ಒಮ್ಮೆ ಚೀನಾಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋಗಿ ಇರಬೇಕು. ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ರಸ್ತೆ, ಸಬ್‍ವೇ, ವಿಮಾನ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣ ಎಲ್ಲಾ ಸಾರ್ವಜನಿಕ ಸ್ಥಳಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲ ನೀವು ಮೂತ್ರ ವಿಸರ್ಜನೆಗೆ ಹೋದರೆ ಅಲ್ಲೂ ನಿಮ್ಮನ್ನು ಸರ್ಕಾರ ಹದ್ದಿನ ಕಣ್ಣಿಂದ ನೋಡ್ತಾ ಇರುತ್ತದೆ. ಎಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ನಿಮ್ಮದೇ ಎನ್ನುವ ಏಕಾಂತ ಇಲ್ಲ.
ಮೋದಿ ಪ್ರಧಾನಿಯಾದ ಮೇಲೆ ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶದಲ್ಲಿ ಅಸಹಿಷ್ಣುತೆ ಹೆಚ್ಚಾಗಿದೆ ಅಂತ ಬೊಬ್ಬೆ ಹೊಡೆಯೋ, ಎಸಿ ನ್ಯೂಸ್‍ ರೂಮ್‍ಗಳಿಂದ ಹೊರಗೇ ಹೋಗದಿರೋ armchair journalistಗಳು ಹುಡುಕಿ ತೆಗೆಯಬೇಕಾದದ್ದು, ಭಾರತದಲ್ಲಿ ಎಷ್ಟು ಜನ ಸರ್ಕಾರದ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಮಾತಾಡಿದ್ದಕ್ಕಾಗಿ, ಪ್ರತಿಭಟಿಸಿದ್ದಕಾಗಿ ಜೈಲಿನಲ್ಲಿದ್ದಾರೆ? ಮಾಸ್ಕೋದ ರೆಡ್‍ ಸ್ಕ್ವೇರ್‍ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ನಿಂತು ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಕ್ರಾಂತಿಯನ್ನು ನೆನೆಸಿಕೊಂಡು ರೋಮಾಂಚನಗೊಳ್ಳುವ ಅರುಂಧತಿ ರಾಯ್‍ ಆಗಲೀ, ’ಭಾರತ್‍ ಕೀ ಬರ್ಬಾದೀ’ ಎಂದು ಅರಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ’ವಿದ್ಯಾರ್ಥಿ’ಗಳಾಗಲೀ ಮತ್ತು ಅವರಿಗೆ ಬೆನ್ನಾಗಿ ನಿಂತು ಬೆಂಕಿಯಿಲ್ಲದ ಒಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ತಮ್ಮ ಬೇಳೆ ಬೇಯಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳಲು ಯತ್ನಿಸುವ ನಮ್ಮ ಪತ್ರಕರ್ತರಾಗಲೀ ನೆನಪಿಡಬೇಕಾದದ್ದು, ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶದಲ್ಲಿ ಅಸಹಿಷ್ಣುತೆ ಇದ್ದಿದ್ದರೆ, ಬಿಜೆಪಿ ಭಾರತವನ್ನು ಹಿಂದೂ ರಾಷ್ಟ್ರ ಮಾಡಲು ಪ್ರಯತ್ನಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದರೆ, ಅವರೆಲ್ಲ ಇಷ್ಟು ಹೊತ್ತಿಗೆ ಚೀನಾದ ಹೋರಾಟಗಾರರ ತರ ’ಶಾಶ್ವತವಾಗಿ ಕಾಣೆಯಾದವರ’ ಪಟ್ಟಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದು ಫೋಟೋ ಆಗಿರುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. ಅರುಂಧತಿ ರಾಯ್‍ ಮೋದಿಯನ್ನು ಪರೋಕ್ಷವಾಗಿ ಬೈದು ತನ್ನ ಹೊಸ ಪುಸ್ತಕ ಬರೆಯುತ್ತಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಕನ್ಹಯ್ಯ ಕುಮಾರ್ ನಿರಾಳವಾಗಿ ಪಿಎಚ್‍ಡಿ ಮುಗಿಸಲು ಓದುತ್ತಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ.
ಇವರೆಲ್ಲ ಬೆಂಬಲಿಸುತ್ತಿರೋ ಸಿದ್ಧಾಂತದ ಹರಿಕಾರ ಮಾವೋ ಚೀನಾವನ್ನು ತನ್ನ ತತ್ವಗಳ ಚೌಕಟ್ಟಿನೊಳಗೆ ಬಂಧಿಸುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನದಲ್ಲಿ ಬಲಿಯಾದವರು ಬರೋಬ್ಬರಿ ಮೂರು ಕೋಟಿ ಅರವತ್ತು ಸಾವಿರ ಜನ. ಅದೇ ಚೀನಾದ ಮಾನವ ಹಕ್ಕು ಉಲ್ಲಂಘನೆಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಬುದ್ಧಿಜೀವಿಗಳ್ಯಾರೂ ಅಂತರರಾಷ್ಟ್ರೀಯ ವೇದಿಕೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಮಾತಾಡುವುದಿಲ್ಲ. ಎಷ್ಟೇ ಆದರೂ ಅಮೇರಿಕಾದ ಸಿಐಎ ಹೊರಹಾಕಿದ ದಾಖಲೆಗಳ ಪ್ರಕಾರ 1962ರ ಭಾರತ-ಚೀನಾ ಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲಿ ಚೀನಾಕ್ಕೆ ಬೆಂಬಲ ಸೂಚಿಸಿದ, ದೇಶಕ್ಕಿಂತ ಸಿದ್ಧಾಂತವೇ ಮುಖ್ಯ ಎನ್ನುವ, ಆದರೆ ತಮ್ಮ ಸಿದ್ಧಾಂತದ ಎದುರು ಬಂದ ಜನಸಾಮಾನ್ಯರನ್ನು ಹೊಸಕಿ ಹಾಕಲು ’ಮಾನವ ಹಕ್ಕು’ ಅಡ್ದ ಬರದೆ ಇರುವ ಅತಿಬುದ್ಧಿಜೀವಿಗಳಲ್ಲವೇ ನಮ್ಮವರು? ಫ್ರೆಂಚ್‍ ತತ್ವಜ್ಞಾನಿ ವಾಲ್ಟೇರ‍್ ಹೇಳಿದಂತೆ, "ಮೂರ್ಖರನ್ನು ಅವರೇ ಪೂಜಿಸುವ ಸರಪಳಿಗಳಿಂದ ಬಿಡುಗಡೆಗೊಳಿಸುವುದು ಅಸಾಧ್ಯ."
ಈಗ ಚೀನಾ ಮತ್ತೆ ಕಾಲು ಕೆರೆದು ಜಗಳಕ್ಕೆ ಬರುತ್ತಿದೆ. ಟಿಬೆಟ್‍ ಅವರದಾಯಿತು, ಪಾಕ್‍ ಆಕ್ರಮಿತ ಕಾಶ್ಮೀರದಲ್ಲಿ ಬಂದು ಕೂತಾಯಿತು. ಈಗ ಭೂತಾನ್‍ ಮತ್ತು ಸಿಕ್ಕಿಂ ಮೇಲೆ ಕಣ್ಣು ಹಾಕಿದೆ. ನಮ್ಮೊಳಗೇ ಟೊಳ್ಳಿರುವಾಗ ಹೊರಗಿನವರು ಕೊಟ್ಟ ಪೆಟ್ಟು ಬೇಗ ತಾಗುತ್ತದೆ. ದೇಶಪ್ರೇಮವೂ ಅಪಹಾಸ್ಯಕ್ಕೊಳಗಾದ ಈ ಸಮಯದಲ್ಲಿ ನನಗೆ ಚೀನಾದ ಎದುರು 1962ರಲ್ಲಿ ಕಾಲಿಗೆ ಬೂಟುಗಳಿಲ್ಲದೆ, ಚಳಿಗೆ ಉಣ್ಣೆಯ ಬಟ್ಟೆಯಿಲ್ಲದೆ, ಯುದ್ಧ ಶುರುವಾದರೆ ಕಿಸೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕೇವಲ ಅರ್ಧ ಗಂಟೆ ಮಾತ್ರ ಹೋರಾಡುವಷ್ಟು ಬುಲೆಟ್‍ಗಳನ್ನಿಟ್ಟುಕೊಂಡು ಸೋತ ಆ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೈನಿಕ ಮತ್ತೆ ಮತ್ತೆ ನೆನಪಾಗುತ್ತಾನೆ.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

ಶಾಂತಿಮಂತ್ರ ಬರೀ ನಮಗೇಕೆ?

ಅದು ಆಗಸ್ಟ್ 1914. ಒಂದು ಕೊಲೆಯ ಕಿಡಿ ಹೊತ್ತಿ ಉರಿದು ಇಡೀ ವಿಶ್ವವನ್ನೇ ಸುಡುವ ಮೊದಲನೇ ವಿಶ್ವಯುದ್ಧಕ್ಕೆ ನಾಂದಿ ಹಾಡಿದ ಸಮಯ. ಆಗ ದಕ್ಷಿಣ ಆಫ್ರಿಕಾದಿಂದ ಭಾರತಕ್ಕೆ ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದ ಗಾಂಧೀಜಿ ಸುದ್ದಿ ತಿಳಿದ ತಕ್ಷಣವೇ ಈ ಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲಿ ಬ್ರಿಟೀಷರ ಬೆಂಬಲಕ್ಕೆ ನಿಲ್ಲುವ ನಿರ್ಧಾರಕ್ಕೆ ಬರುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಇಂಗ್ಲೆಂಡ್ ತಲುಪಿದ ಕೂಡಲೆ ಗಾಯಗೊಂಡ ಸೈನಿಕರಿಗೆ ವೈದ್ಯಕೀಯ ನೆರವು ನೀಡಲು ಮುಂದಾಗುತ್ತಾರೆ.
ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಆರೋಗ್ಯ ಕೆಟ್ಟು ಭಾರತಕ್ಕೆ ಮರಳಿದರೂ ಸುಮ್ಮನಿರದೆ ಗಾಂಧೀಜಿ, ಬ್ರಿಟೀಷರ ಕಷ್ಟಕಾಲದಲ್ಲಿ ಅವರಿಗೆ ಸಹಾಯ ಮಾಡಬೇಕೆಂದು ನೂರಾರು ಹಳ್ಳಿ, ಪಟ್ಟಣಗಳನ್ನು ತಿರುಗಿ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೇನೆಗೆ ಸೇರಲು ಸಾವಿರಾರು ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಜನರನ್ನು ಹುರಿದುಂಬಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ. "ನಿಮ್ಮ ಗಂಡ ಬ್ರಿಟಿಷ್‍ ಸಾಮ್ರಾಜ್ಯದ ಪರವಾಗಿ ಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲಿ ಬಲಿಯಾದರೆ ಅವರೇ ನಿಮಗೆ ಮುಂದಿನ ಜನ್ಮದಲ್ಲಿ ಪತಿಯಾಗಿ ಸಿಗುತ್ತಾರೆ" ಎಂದು ತನ್ನ ಭಾಷಣ ಕೇಳಲು ಬಂದ ಹೆಣ್ಣುಮಕ್ಕಳಲ್ಲಿ ಬೇಡಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಇದರ ಪರಿಣಾಮ...
ಅಪರಿಚಿತ ನೆಲ, ಕಂಡರಿಯದ ಜನ, ಅರ್ಥವಾಗದ ಭಾಷೆ, ಮರಗಟ್ಟುವ ಚಳಿ, ತೊಡಲು ಹತ್ತಿಯ ತೆಳ್ಳಗಿನ ಬಟ್ಟೆ. ಅಲ್ಲಿಯವರೆಗೂ ಗನ್‍ ಹಿಡಿದು ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲದ, ಯುದ್ಧದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಅರಿವೇ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಅಮಾಯಕ ಭಾರತೀಯರು ಗಾಂಧೀಜಿಯ ಕರೆಗೆ ಓಗೊಟ್ಟು ವಿಶ್ವಯುದ್ಧದ ಮುಂಚೂಣಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಗುಂಡಿಗೆ ಎದೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟು ನಿಲ್ಲುತ್ತಾರೆ.  ಫ್ರಾನ್ಸ್, ಬೆಲ್ಜಿಯಂ, ಆಫ್ರಿಕಾ, ಮೆಸೊಪೊಟೇಮಿಯಾ, ಈಜಿಪ್ಟ್ ದೇಶಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಬ್ರಿಟಿಷ್‍ ಸೈನಿಕ ತಲುಪುವ ಮೊದಲೇ ಶತ್ರುಗಳನ್ನು ತಡೆದು ನಿಲ್ಲಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ. ನಮ್ಮೆದುರು ನಿಲ್ಲಲು ಈ ಕಂದು ಬಣ್ಣದ ಸೈನಿಕರಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲಿ ಧೈರ್ಯವಿದೆ ಎಂದು ಹಂಗಿಸಿ ಮಾತಾಡಿದ ಜರ್ಮನ್ ಸೈನಿಕರೂ ಕೊನೆಗೆ ಅವರ ಸಾಹಸಗಳ ಎದುರು ಸೋಲೊಪ್ಪಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾರೆ.
ಈ ಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲಿ ಹೋರಾಡಿದ ಬರೋಬ್ಬರಿ 15 ಲಕ್ಷ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೈನಿಕರಲ್ಲಿ ಸುಮಾರು 75,000 ಸೈನಿಕರು ಯುದ್ಧಕಂದಕಗಳಲ್ಲಿ, ಚಳಿ-ಮಲೇರಿಯಾಗಳಿಂದ, ಕೈ-ಕಾಲು ಮುರಿದುಕೊಂಡು ಸರಿಯಾದ ಚಿಕಿತ್ಸೆ ಇಲ್ಲದೆ, ಗಾಯಗಳು ಕೊಳೆತು ಪ್ರಾಣ ಬಿಡುತ್ತಾರೆ.
ಯುದ್ಧಕಂದಕಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ತನ್ನ ಜೊತೆಯವರನ್ನು ಕಣ್ಣೆದುರೇ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡ ಸೈನಿಕನೊಬ್ಬ ಪತ್ರದಲ್ಲಿ, "ಶವಗಳು ಕತ್ತರಿಸಿ ಹಾಕಿದ ಜೋಳದ ತೆನೆಗಳ ತರ ನೆಲದ ತುಂಬಾ ಹರಡಿವೆ" ಎಂದು ಹತಾಶನಾಗಿ ಬರೆಯುತ್ತಾನೆ. ನೊಂದ ಸೈನಿಕನೊಬ್ಬ ಬ್ರಿಟನ್‍ ರಾಜ ಐದನೇ ಜಾರ್ಜ್‍ಗೆ ಪತ್ರ ಬರೆದು, "...ಕೇವಲ 11 ರೂಪಾಯಿಗೆ ನಾವು ಪ್ರಾಣ ಬಿಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇವೆ. ಗಾಯಗೊಂಡ ಸೈನಿಕರನ್ನೂ ಪದೇ ಪದೇ ಯುದ್ಧಕ್ಕೆ ಕಳುಹಿಸುತ್ತಾರೆ," ಎಂದು ದೂರುತ್ತಾನೆ.
ನಮ್ಮ ಸೈನಿಕ ತನ್ನ ದೇಶಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ಮಡಿಯಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಯಾರದ್ದೋ ರಾಜಕೀಯ ಲೆಕ್ಕಾಚಾರಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಕೇವಲ ಅಂಕಿ-ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯ ಭಾಗವಾಗಿ ಹೋದ. ಬದುಕಿದವರು ಭಾರತಕ್ಕೆ ಮರಳುವಷ್ಟರಲ್ಲಿ ಇಲ್ಲಿನ ರಾಜಕೀಯ ವಾತಾವರಣವೇ ಬೇರೆಯಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಅವರಿಗೆ ಹೀರೋಗಳ ಸ್ವಾಗತ ಬಿಡಿ, ಬ್ರಿಟೀಷರಿಗೆ ಸಹಕರಿಸಲು ಹೋದವರೆಂದು ಜನ ತುಚ್ಚವಾಗಿ ಕಂಡರು, ಹಂಗಿಸಿದರು. ಅಷ್ಟೊತ್ತಿಗೆ ಗಾಂಧೀಜಿಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತಾಗಿತ್ತು ತಾವು ಸಹಾಯ ಮಾಡಲು ಹೊರಟ ತಮ್ಮ ಚಕ್ರವರ್ತಿಯ ನಿಜರೂಪ. ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೈನ್ಯ ಇಲ್ಲದಿದ್ದರೆ ಬ್ರಿಟನ್‍ ಆ ಯುದ್ಧ ಗೆಲ್ಲಲು ಸಾಧ್ಯವಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೂ ಸಹಾಯ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದಕ್ಕೆ ಸ್ವಾಯತ್ತತೆ ಬಿಡಿ, ನಮಗೆ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದ್ದು ಜಲಿಯನ್‍ವಾಲಾ ಬಾಗ್ ಹತ್ಯಾಕಾಂಡ, ತುರ್ತುಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿ, ಪತ್ರಿಕೆಗಳ ಮೇಲೆ ನಿರ್ಬಂಧ, ಕೋರ್ಟ್‍ ವಿಚಾರಣೆಯೇ ಇಲ್ಲದೆ ಶಿಕ್ಷೆ. ಒಂದು ಕಡೆ ಬರಗಾಲ. ದೇಶದ ಹಣವನ್ನು ಯುದ್ಧಕ್ಕೆ ಸುರಿದಿದ್ದರಿಂದ ಆದ ಹಣದುಬ್ಬರ, ಅದರ ಪರಿಣಾಮ ಬಾಂಬೆ, ಮದ್ರಾಸ್‍, ಬಂಗಾಳದಲ್ಲಿ ಆಹಾರಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ದಂಗೆ.
ಇಷ್ಟಕ್ಕೇ ನಿಲ್ಲಲಿಲ್ಲ ನಮ್ಮ ದಾಸ್ಯದ ಕಥೆ. ಮತ್ತೆ ಸಣ್ಣ ಪುಟ್ಟ ಯುದ್ಧಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲದೆ, ನಮ್ಮ ಸೈನಿಕರು ಎರಡನೇ ಮಹಾಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲೂ ಬ್ರಿಟಿಷರ ಅಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಇಟೆಲಿ, ಜಪಾನ್‍ ಮತ್ತು ಜರ್ಮನ್‍ ಸೈನ್ಯಗಳ ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಹೋರಾಡಿ ಗೆಲ್ಲುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಇಂಫಾಲ್‍ ಮತ್ತು ಕೊಹಿಮಾ ಮೇಲೆ ಆಕ್ರಮಣ ಮಾಡಿದ ಜಪಾನೀಯರು ಸೋತು ಹಿಮ್ಮೆಟ್ಟುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಪಾಲ್ಗೊಂಡ 2.5 ಲಕ್ಷ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸೈನಿಕರಲ್ಲಿ ಸುಮಾರು 24,000 ಸೈನಿಕರು ಸಾಯುತ್ತಾರೆ.
ಇದೆಲ್ಲ ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯ ಸಿಗುವ ಮೊದಲಿನ ಮಾತಾಯಿತು, ಈಗ್ಯಾಕೆ ಅದರ ಪ್ರಸ್ತಾಪ ಅನ್ನಿಸಬಹುದು. ಆಗ ಬ್ರಿಟಿಷರು ಕಟ್ಟಿದ ದಾಸ್ಯ ಸಂಕೋಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ನಾವಿದ್ದರೆ, ಈಗ ’ಶಾಂತಿಮಂತ್ರ’ ಎನ್ನುವ ನಾವೇ ಬಿಗಿದುಕೊಂಡ ಸಂಕೋಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದೇವೆ. ಭಾಷಣ ಮಾಡುವವರೆಲ್ಲ ’ಭಾರತ ಶಾಂತಿಯುತ ದೇಶ, ಶಾಂತಿ ಇಷ್ಟಪಡುವ ದೇಶ’ ಎಂದು ಉರುಹೊಡೆಯುವುದನ್ನು ಕೇಳಿರಬಹುದು. ಅದಕ್ಕೇ ಇರಬೇಕು ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶದಿಂದ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಯ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನಾ ಪಡೆಗೆ ಕಳುಹಿಸಿರುವ ಪಡೆಗಳ ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯೇ 1,80,000.
ಆಗ ಕೃತಘ್ನ ಬ್ರಿಟೀಷರಿಗೋಸ್ಕರ ನಮ್ಮ ಸೈನಿಕರು ಜೀವ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡರೆ, ಈಗ ಜಗತ್ತಿನ ದೊಡ್ಡಣ್ಣರೆಲ್ಲ ನಮ್ಮ ಮೇಲೆ ಸವಾರಿ ಮಾಡಲು ನಾವೇ ಅನುವು ಮಾಡಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇವೆ. ಯಾವುದೋ ದೇಶಗಳು, ಅವರ ರಾಜಕೀಯ ಆಟಗಳು... ಅವರಿಗೇ ಬೇಡದ ಶಾಂತಿಯನ್ನು ಕಾಪಾಡಲು ನಾವು, so-called ಮೂರನೇ ಜಗತ್ತಿನ ಸೈನಿಕರು, ಪೋಲೀಸರು ಜೀವದ ಮೇಲಿನ ಆಸೆ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ವರ್ಷಗಟ್ಟಲೆ ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ನಾಗರಿಕ ಸಮಾಜವನ್ನು ಹಗಲೂ-ರಾತ್ರಿ ಕಾಯಬೇಕು.
ಜಗತ್ತಿನಲ್ಲೇ ಅತಿ ಹೆಚ್ಚು, ಅಂದರೆ ಸುಮಾರು 158 ಭಾರತೀಯ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲಕರು (Peacekeepers), 49 ಬೇರೆ ಬೇರೆ ಕಾರ್ಯಾಚರಣೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾವುದೋ ದೇಶಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಾಣ ತೆತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ.
ಮಾಲ್ಡೀವ್ಸ್ ಅಧ್ಯಕ್ಷ ಮೌಮೂನ್‍ ಅಬ್ದುಲ್‍ ಗಯೂಮ್‍ರನ್ನು ಉಚ್ಚಾಟಿಸಲು ಮಾಡಿದ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ ವಿಫಲಗೊಳಿಸಿದ್ದು ನಮ್ಮ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲಕರ ’ಆಪರೇಶನ್‍ ಕ್ಯಾಕ್ಟಸ್‍.’ ಶ್ರೀಲಂಕಾದಲ್ಲಿ LTTE ವಿರುದ್ಧ ಹೋರಾಟದಲ್ಲಿ ಸತ್ತಿದ್ದು ಸಾವಿರಕ್ಕೂ ಹೆಚ್ಚು ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲಕರು. ಕಾಂಗೋ, ಸುಡಾನ್‍, ಐವರಿ ಕೋಸ್ಟ್, ಸೊಮಾಲಿಯಾ, ಇರಾಕ್‍, ಲಿಬೀರಿಯಾ, ಹೀಗೆ ಎಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲಿ ಅವರ ಅಗತ್ಯ ಇದೆಯೋ ಅಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲ ನಮ್ಮವರು ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯ ನಾಗರಿಕರಿಗೆ ಹಗಲು-ರಾತ್ರಿ ರಕ್ಷಣೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟಿದ್ದಾರೆ.
ಜಗತ್ತಿನ ಮೊದಲ ಮಹಿಳಾ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನಾ ಪಡೆ ಭಾರತೀಯರದ್ದು. ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಯಿಂದ ಮೆಚ್ಚುಗೆ ಪಡೆದು ಮೊನ್ನೆ ಫೆಬ್ರವರಿಗೆ ಹಿಂತಿರುಗಿದ ಈ ಪಡೆ ಒಂಬತ್ತು ವರ್ಷಗಳ ಕಾಲ ಲಿಬೀರಿಯಾದಲ್ಲಿ ನಾಗರಿಕ ರಕ್ಷಣೆ ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲದೆ, ರಾತ್ರಿ ಗಸ್ತು ತಿರುಗುವುದು, ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಪೋಲೀಸರಿಗೆ ತರಬೇತಿ ಕೊಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದುದು ಮಾತ್ರವಲ್ಲ, ಮನೆ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಹೊರ ಬರಲು ಅಂಜುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ಮಹಿಳೆಯರಿಗೆ ಪೋಲೀಸ್‍ ಪಡೆ ಸೇರಲು ಸ್ಪೂರ್ತಿಯಾದರು.
ನಮ್ಮ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನಾ ಪಡೆಗಳ ಸಂಬಳ, ಯೂನಿಫಾರ್ಮ್, ಶಸ್ತ್ರಾಸ್ತ್ರಗಳು, ತರಬೇತಿಯ ಖರ್ಚನ್ನೆಲ್ಲ ನಮ್ಮ ದೇಶವೇ ಕೊಟ್ಟು, ಜೊತೆಗೆ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಯ ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನೆ ಬಜೆಟ್‍ಗೆ ದೇಣಿಗೆ (2015-16ನೇ ಸಾಲಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಭಾರತ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಗೆ ರೂ. 256 ಕೋಟಿ ಕಡ್ಡಾಯ ದೇಣಿಗೆ ನೀಡಿದೆ) ಕೊಟ್ಟು ನಾವು ಅಮಾಯಕರ ಜೀವ ಉಳಿಸುವ ಪುಣ್ಯದ ಕೆಲಸವನ್ನೇನೋ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇವೆ. ಆದರೆ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ನಮಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಪಡೆಗಳ ನಿಯೋಜನೆಯ ಯಾವ ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯವೂ ಇಲ್ಲ.
ಸುಮಾರು 7,713 ಸೈನಿಕರನ್ನು ನಿಯೋಜಿಸುವ ಮೂಲಕ ಇಥಿಯೋಪಿಯಾ ನಂತರ ಎರಡನೇ ಸ್ಥಾನದಲ್ಲಿರುವ ಭಾರತದ ಎದುರು ಜರ್ಮನಿ (434), ಯುನೈಟೆಡ್‍ ಕಿಂಗ್‍ಡಮ್‍ (336), ಕೆನಡಾ (103), ರಷ್ಯಾ (98) ಮತ್ತು ಯುಎಸ್‍ (40) ತರದ ’ದೊಡ್ಡಣ್ಣ’ಗಳ ಬಣ್ಣ ಶಾಂತಿಯ ತಿಳಿನೀರಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾವಾಗಲೋ ತೊಳೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಹೋಗಿದೆ. ಅವರ ಸೈನಿಕರ ಜೀವ ಮಾತ್ರ ಅಮೂಲ್ಯ ಎಂದು ತಿಳಿದುಕೊಂಡಿರುವ ಆ ದೇಶಗಳು ಹಲ್ಲೇ ಇಲ್ಲದಿರುವ ಹಾವಾದ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಗೆ ಕೋಟಿಗಟ್ಟಲೆ ಹಣ ಸುರಿದು ಬಡರಾಷ್ಟ್ರಗಳಿಗೆ ಶಾಂತಿಯ ಮಂತ್ರ ಹೇಳಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಿವೆ.
ಅತ್ಯಂತ ಕಡಿಮೆ ಮತ್ತು ಹಾಸ್ಯಾಸ್ಪದ ಸಂಖ್ಯೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸೈನಿಕರನ್ನು ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನಾ ಪಡೆಗೆ ಕಳಿಸುತ್ತಿರುವ ಅಮೇರಿಕಾ, ಈ ವರ್ಷ ತಾನು ಕೊಡುವ ಹಣವನ್ನೂ ಕಡಿತಗೊಳಿಸುವ ಚಿಂತನೆ ನಡೆಸುತ್ತಿದೆ. ಆದರೂ ಹೊಸದಾಗಿ ನೇಮಕಗೊಂಡ ವಿಶ್ವಸಂಸ್ಥೆಯ ಅಮೇರಿಕ ರಾಯಭಾರಿ ಭಾರತೀಯ ಸಂಜಾತೆ ನಿಕ್ಕಿ ಹೇಲಿ ಪ್ರಕಾರ ’ಅಮೇರಿಕಾ ಜಗತ್ತಿನ ನೈತಿಕ ಆತ್ಮಸಾಕ್ಷಿ.’
ದೇಶ-ದೇಶಗಳ ನಡುವಿನ ಯುದ್ಧ, ಜಾತಿ-ಜನಾಂಗಗಳ ಸಂಘರ್ಷ, ಸಿದ್ಧಾಂತಗಳ ತಿಕ್ಕಾಟ,... ಏನೇ ಇರಲಿ,  ಅಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲ ಸಾವು-ನೋವು, ಕ್ರೂರತನಕ್ಕೆ ಬಲಿಯಾಗುವವರು ಅಮಾಯಕರೇ. ಯಾವ ರಾಷ್ಟ್ರವೇ ಆಗಲಿ, ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ನಾಗರಿಕರನ್ನು ರಕ್ಷಿಸುವುದು ಯಾವುದೇ ದೇಶದ ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯ ಸೈನಿಕ ಹೆಮ್ಮೆಯಿಂದ ಮಾಡುವ ಕೆಲಸ. ಆದರೆ ಅದರಲ್ಲಿ ದೊಡ್ಡ-ಸಣ್ಣ ರಾಷ್ಟ್ರಗಳ ಸಮಪಾಲು ಇರಬೇಕು. ನಾಗರಿಕರ ಜೀವದ ತರ, ಸೈನಿಕನ ಜೀವವೂ ಅತ್ಯಮೂಲ್ಯವೇ. ಒಂದು ಕಡೆ ಬೆನ್ನ ಹಿಂದಿಂದ ಯುದ್ಧಕ್ಕೆ ಕುಮ್ಮಕ್ಕು ಕೊಡುತ್ತಾ, ಇನ್ನೊಂದು ಕಡೆ ಯುದ್ಧದಲ್ಲಿ ಸಿಲುಕುವ ಅಮಾಯಕರನ್ನು ಕಾಪಾಡುವ ನಾಟಕವಾಡುವ ’ಹಿರಿಯಣ್ಣ’ರೆಲ್ಲ ಸೇರಿ, ಕಣ್ಣೆದುರೇ ಅನಾಚಾರಗಳು ನಡೆಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದರೂ ಅದನ್ನು ತಡೆಯುವ ಯಾವ ಅಧಿಕಾರವೂ ಕೊಡದೆ, ಶಾಂತಿಪಾಲನಾ ಪಡೆಯನ್ನು ಹೆಸರಿಗೆ ಮಾತ್ರ ನೇಮಿಸಿ ತಮ್ಮ ನೈತಿಕ ಹೊಣೆಯಿಂದ ಕಳಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಬದಲು ಅವರಿಗೆ ಆ ಕ್ಷಣದಲ್ಲಿ ಸರಿಯಾದ ನಿರ್ಧಾರ ತೆಗೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯ ಕೊಟ್ಟರೆ ಆ ಪಡೆಯ ನೇಮಕ ಅರ್ಥಪೂರ್ಣವಾದೀತು. ಶಾಂತಿಯ ಹರವು ಹಿಂಸೆಯಿಂದ ನಲುಗಿದ ದೇಶಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಹರಡೀತು.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

A whiff of jasmine...

She walked briskly, not knowing where and not caring. Her muddled mind cleared slowly, as walking often did for her. Drawn out of the vale of her reverie by the singing of a koel in search of its soul mate, she glanced around her. Finding herself in the thick of the woods and recognising the wild mango tree which towered over the long-forgotten path, she recalled her childhood days when she would accompany her mother and aunt to rescue the tiny, juicy mangoes from the hungry ants under the dry leaves on the forest bed.
Darting her glance at the dark woods, which seemed to be closing around her menacingly, Samhita quickened her pace. She walked further down the narrow path now strewn with half-eaten, rotten cashew apples thrown by monkeys. In front of her lay the broken foundation of an old house, eaten up by wild vines and the passivity of its residents.
Stepping gingerly across the foundation stones, she turned to look at the path that lay silently behind her, thinking of lives spent seeking love and then letting it go in order to live. "Don't look back, or else the wood fairies who follow you and protect you from danger, will vanish," she recalled the warning by a village woman who worked in their fields and with whom she often went to gather firewood. Her childhood fear, strengthened by the stories narrated by elders to keep naughty kids in check, or to allay their own fears, towered over her now. Breathing deeply, as if to erase her fear by inhaling it and burning it within herself, she walked past the ruins and stepped out onto the rocky cliff that loomed over the emerald fields.
She sat down, dangling her feet over the cliff and thought about the people who lived in that ruined house once upon a time - their joys, untold sorrows... Samhita shook herself as she realised that she was brooding again. She checked her cellphone for the umpteenth time, knowing full well that no message or call could come in a place with no signal, chiding herself for hoping that he would call atleast once.
Inhaling the cool forest air, she questioned herself - what will happen if you never see, hear from or live with the person you love?
"Nothing," was the answer Samhita heard from within and without. Startled, she turned to see a woman wizened with age yet graceful in her green cotton saree, walk slowly towards her. "Don't be afraid, my dear. I live in a house yonder," the woman said, pointing towards a thatched hut standing proudly amidst the fields. "I heard your question, which you must have unknowingly spoken out aloud."
Gathering her scared wits around her, Samhita sat down silently. "Life is very simple, my dear," continued the old woman, sitting beside her and smiling. In a voice that seemed to flow effortlessly from deep within her and with a faraway look, the woman added, "We just pull the simple thread of life in our amateur fingers and end up entangling it, confusing ourselves and others in the process."
Seeing the puzzled look on Samhita's face, the woman questioned, "Tell me my dear, of her five husbands, whom did Draupadi really love? It's a question for which only Draupadi knows the answer. I was once a bubbly girl like you; full of life and unbridled optimism. Do you want to hear my story?"
Samhita nodded silently, yet unsure of how to respond to the stranger. The woman, with unseeing eyes, continued: "It was my job to gather firewood everyday and I spent a lot of my time in the woods, immensely enjoying the solitude, rustle of leaves as they rose in the sudden breeze and scampering of little animals. One summer day, tired after gathering firewood, I sat down on this rock beneath that wild jasmine bush. In the stillness that enveloped me and gentle breeze kissing me, I soon fell asleep. After a while, as the sun shifted and his hot rays fell on my face, I woke up and found a man sitting across me. He was staring at me, lost in contemplation. Startled, I got up. He came out of his reverie and a smile appeared on his solemn face.
"Don't be afraid," said he. "I was just searching for a place untouched by humans... to sit and meditate. You seemed to be the perfect muse for me."
"We met on this rock daily, went for long walks in the woods and sat here for hours, not uttering a word and yet strangely comfortable with each other. He taught me to read, brought in me a passion towards life. He was my dream to fall back on when reality failed me. In two years that we spent together, I knew the workings of his mind but nothing about him.
"One day when I came here, the rock seemed lifeless; he was not there. I had fallen in love. From that day onwards, I came here every day; desperate to see him, see his animated eyes as he spoke of the things he loved, his passion towards his countrymen. After a year of my futile visits to this rock, I got married to a farmer from this village itself. For the next 15 years, I sat on this rock every single day, hoping that he would suddenly appear at the bend in the path and sit beside me.
"One rainy day, as I took shelter beneath a tree trying to shield myself from the angry rain which whipped me from all sides, I saw someone walking gingerly through the puddles, holding an umbrella. My heart skipped to see my grey-haired love walking towards me as nonchalantly as if he'd never missed a meeting. He stood beside me, held his umbrella over me till the rains stopped. And then he left, taking a long look back at me. Our silence spoke. I knew then that it was the last time we would be seeing each other.
"I continued to come here, not anymore to see him but to be with him in my thoughts and many moods. There is no such thing as an unrequited love my dear. He can be anywhere and I can still be with him," the old woman said and after a minute of silence, got up to leave. She disappeared behind the wild jasmine bushes before Samhita could collect her stupefied self and call out to her. A whiff of jasmine lingered long after the woman had left.

Disturbed by the woman’s story and unable to find peace anymore, Samhita returned home. She asked her uncle about the house in the midst of the fields. He said that nobody lived there now. "The house was built by a farmer's family who were good people and well-liked by the villagers. The children grew up and left for the city while their old parents lived there for a while. Then one day, the old woman, who had gone to visit her children in the city, boarded a train to return home. She died in the tragic train accident in which her coach derailed. When fire fighters started retrieving the bodies, they found that the woman was holding the hand of an old man, who too had died in the accident. He was later identified as a celebrated freedom fighter who had fought against the British. He had formed his own radical group and strategically attacked the British, causing them to retreat from this land. A fire fighter later told the media that he was surprised that the scorched coach was filled with the fragrance of jasmine."
--A story by me.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Mother

This is my feeble attempt at story-telling.

She was a mother. Sitting beneath a mango tree which had begun flowering at the fag end of Spring, she thought about her grown-up children who had gone fishing in the roiling sea.
Looking up from the task of making brooms from the green coconut fronds spread around her, she saw that grey clouds shrouded the sky, threatening to pour pails of water from their cottony wombs.
Calling out to her husband who was resting inside their hut after two days of fishing in the sea, she voiced her concern about their two sons and the imminent storm.
When she could hear no answer from the hut, she went inside, only to find her husband shivering with fever and uttering incoherent words in his incognizance.
Worried about both her husband and sons, she was torn between rushing out to seek the help of her neighbours and the urge to run to the beach to look out for her sons’ return before the storm began. Finally she made a choice. Standing before the angry waves whipping the sands for being naughty and shifty, she prayed to the Sea Mother to protect her sons and all other sons of the sea who were out fishing and thus were vulnerable to the vagaries of nature. Then she ran to her neighbour’s house where she found that her friend’s husband, also a fisherman, was not at home. Sensing that she would not find help anywhere else in the storm, she desolately walked back.
When the mother returned home, she could see that a full storm had begun and the high tide had reached the coconut trees which were swaying dangerously low and close to her hut. As she stood horrified, the fronds lashed out and hit the roof of the hut, which flew off in its entirety and landed at the top of a group of cacti plants.
Standing before the now roofless hut and watching as rain took possession of their meager belongings as if collecting its long due debt, she cried thinking of the fate of her children and cursing herself for letting them go fishing that day.
Running inside, she called out to her husband. When he did not stir, she went to him and dragged his inanimate body to a corner of the hut. She tried desperately to cover him with the two silk sarees -one red with peacock dancing in the pallu, the other blue with gold stripes- which were kept safely in a trunk and were her only prized possessions since marriage. Before long, the sarees were soaked and clung to her now-unconscious husband.
Night fell, with no sign of her children. Her gaze rooted to the broken door with no roof, she sat silently beside her husband, tears dissolving in the rain which now flowed as a stream near her feet.
Soon she heard someone approaching the ruined hut. Glancing up, she saw that her neighbor couple had come to their aid. The fellow fisherman picked up her husband and carried him to their home while she followed with her friend, looking back at what was once their home, hoping against hope that her sons would miraculously materialize there at that instant.
The next morning, she found out that along with the hut and all their possessions, the storm had also snatched away her husband’s life from her. Realising that nothing else was left to be lost, a calmness pervaded her aged soul. She walked slowly to the beach and stood in the rain, facing her Sea Mother. Grey sheets of rain continued to fall on the raging sea, angering it further and causing the waves to lash out with increasing frequency.
Turning to the sea, she saw with shock that a boat was being gently carried to the shore atop an enormous wave which neither had a crest, nor diminished as it approached her. Transfixed at the sight of her two sons clinging to the sides of the boat, she thanked the Sea Mother for returning her sons unharmed. Love misting her eyes, she saw only her sons and not the wave, which swept her up as it gently lowered the boat. Her sons watched from their boat as their mother was taken away by the Sea Mother into her womb, in exchange for their lives. Climbing down from their boat and running towards the receding wave, they heard their mother’s voice: “Get away from the storm, my children. You’ll catch a cold.”

Monday, September 29, 2014

Deluge and delusion

It was the third day of incessant rains. Peeping through the first floor window of my grandparents' house, I could see that the river which flowed beyond the farmlands, begin to swell and its orange waters creep slowly beyond its banks towards our house. As we watched in increasing horror, the swirling torrent swallowed everything in its path, felling huge trees, drowning the deer, peacocks, rabbits and other small animals, gobbling up my aunt's entire garden with rare ornamental plants and beautiful flowers.                       In no time, all one could see was the vast expanse of muddied water, angrily thrashing against the steps of our house.My uncle, in all solemnity, declared that the water will rise one stair per hour and we laughed at his prediction. But three hours and three stairs later, the flood had entered our house.                                                            With water seeping into the mud-walled house, the earthing of which was faulty, we started experiencing electric shocks. Though the elders were earlier confident that the rain would stop at anytime and the flood would recede, they too lost their hope as the courtyard and the lower verandah got submerged.                                               As the front wall of the house collapsed, we ran inside in panic. I sneaked to the first floor window to take in the fury of nature against us mortals when my mom angrily ordered me to come down lest the floor collapsed. Nothing remained including a lovely lake which had as its wreath numerous rose bushes and hibiscus plants.                          With all other routes to safety cut off, we had one choice -- to climb the hillock that lay just behind our house. As twilight approached, we had to decide if we were going to spend the night in the house which may collapse on us anytime or stay at the old Shiva temple in the midst of the dense forest atop the hillock which was open to elements. It was then that our saviours arrived. They were the labourers who worked in our fields and worried by the terrible storm, had come to check on us.                          About 20 years later, I remember trudging through the woods in the rains to their thatched hut several miles inside the forest and getting a warm welcome. We kids slept on the clean, dung-washed floor of the single room that was their hut while the elders sat through the cold and cruel night.                                                                                           Most parts of our house had collapsed by the next morning.Years later, I remember not just the flood which cornered us but also the humanity of that family which provided us a sanctuary against the wild and angry nature -- a compassion where the delusions of caste, creed and wealth no longer mattered.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

"I will be God"

"When do I make my mark in this world?" asked her mind.
"Why do you need to make a mark in this world?" questioned a tiny voice from deep within her, trembling slightly as it's yet a child in the midst of towering consciousnesses.
"Because I wish to be remembered for posterity," replied the mind, slightly irritated that a young one had bothered to question her, who is known for her age old wisdom and scientific temperament.
"And then what?" the tiny voice sought to know, emboldened by now.
"And then people will follow the path shown by me, my ideals, my thoughts..." the mind said proudly. "My thoughts will become their thoughts; my command their wish."
"Later?" persisted the child within.
"Later? What's there for later? People will idolise me and worship me for my knowledge and for bringing them onto the true path. I will be God," boomed the mind.
"Then?" the child who did not wish to be defeated by mere words, queried the mind.
The all-knowing mind was puzzled. What was the best way to answer the child? It remained silent, thinking of a retort that would silence the inquisitive young one.
"Then," the child itself answered, "the path of truth laid by you will be forgotten by those who follow leading it to be overgrown with weeds of lies and dishonesty; your ideals and great thoughts will be trampled upon in the great rush towards your temple. You will be a God alright, but dwarfed and inaudible in the din of ballads of greatness sung in your honour. You will be reduced to a mere beautifully carved stone. Your teachings will be alive only in the pages of a book which everyone worships but no one reads and comprehends. You will be a God not wanted for real in the world of humans. You will remain a mere nagging fear in the back of people's minds who can neither be ignored nor embraced. Do you wish to be so?
For the first time in ages, the great mind bowed to the young one, reason.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

City girl with lilting voice wins Filmfare, connoisseurs’ hearts: Music is in her veins. When she speaks, she speaks music...

Queen of a lilting voice which can sail smoothly over classical or fall-rise unexpectedly in western, young singer Indu Nagaraj has been adding colourful feathers to her vocal talent with many awards including the coveted Filmfare (Best Female Playback Singer-South) and more recently, the Radio Mirchi award (Best Upcoming Singer-South) for the path-breaking hit song ‘Pyaarge Aagbitthaite... from the film ‘Govindaya Namaha.’
Born in a musically-inclined family to Vidwan C.A. Nagaraj (English Lecturer, Maharani Govt. PU College, Mysore and renowned vocalist & flautist) and H.S. Radha, Indu began her musical journey at a tender age of two years. Her initial training began with her grandmother late Vidu. C.S. Satyalakshmi and later under her father. She gave her first performance at five and first recorded music programme in DD and AIR at the age of 7.
She has given hundreds of concerts with her sister and well-known singer Lakshmi Nataraj and bagged State Award as Chilkunda Sisters. The sisters came into limelight with the winning of popular TV shows like ETV’s ‘Ede Thumbi Haaduvenu,’ Zee TV’s ‘Sa Re Ga Ma Pa’ etc. Her talent has been suitable recognised with numerous awards including Aryabhata award, 92.7 Big FM Promising Singer State Award, Udaya Film Award (Best Female Playback Singer) etc.
Always busy hopping from recording studios to music concerts, Indu Nagaraj took out time to chat with ‘SOM’ on her tryst with microphone:
Star of Mysore: ‘Pyaarge Aagbitthaite...’ is a retro-rock and you come from a classical background.
Indu Nagaraj: All film songs have a classical base. Thus if you have a strong foundation in classical music, it will be easier to sing any type of song, whether it’s retro-rock or sugama sangeetha. Hence, I did not find it difficult to sing the song.
Shwetha: You recently received the prestigious Filmfare award and the Radio Mirchi award for the song. Did you expect the song to bring you so many laurels?
Indu: No. But I am very happy for receiving the awards and the recognition.
Shwetha: How did your journey in playback singing begin?
Indu: Since childhood, I have been singing classical and sugama sangeetha songs. I first got a chance to act in ‘Minchu’ serial of T.N. Seetharam. Music Director Hamsalekha gave me a chance to sing a song (Ninna nenape nanna haadu) for Seetharam’s film ‘Meera Madhava Raghava.’ From then on, I have sung for about 20 films in Kannada including ‘Olave Vismaya,’ ‘Paraari,’ ‘Yuva,’ ‘Nee Tata Naa Birla,’ ‘Bachchan’ etc., and the recent Telugu film ‘Potugadu.’
Shwetha: Your future plans?
Indu: There are lots of opportunities in the music field, especially in playback singing. Apart from that, I am also singing for albums, both folk and devotional songs.
Shwetha: What, according to you, is your voice best suited for?
Indu: I believe it’s classical. But I would love to sing in any style of music, be it retro, classical, rock or any other form.
Shwetha: What do you feel about borrowing playback singers from other languages to Kannada film industry?
Indu: I believe there are many local talents who, given the opportunity, have the ability to do justice to their singing. Kannada film industry should first give chance to the singers here; they too can sing well like those from other languages.
Shwetha: Finally, who is the music director in Kannada you can comfortably work with?
Indu: I have worked with almost all music directors in Kannada filmdom and I have enjoyed it. Each have their own styles.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

BOOK TALK: MAHARSHI KABBA: A POETIC GUIDE TO HARMONIOUS LIFE


Title: Maharshi Kabba
Author: B.S. Nataraju (Besina Maharshi)
Pages: 134
Publisher: Maharshi Innovatives & Publishers
Price: Rs. 99
A look at the serene environs outside his friend’s house one day where the eternal blue sky touched the vast land at the horizon gave birth to a profound philosophy in the heart of a poet. Thus was born the poem ‘Anantha’ (Eternal) with the lines “Ananthavihudu ninna manasige, Diganthavihudu ninna kannige...” which, as the poet says in his ‘Author’s Note’ was influenced by the scenery.
He sent it to his friend as an SMS. The appreciation he received resulted in a series of poems not just on time-tested and profound subjects like life, feelings, time, truth, soul, God... but also on day-to-day wisdom regarding marriage, hunger, money, lust, corruption, political India and even diabetes.
‘Maharshi Kabba,’ authored by Besina Maharshi, is a collection of four-line poems which seem to be a watered-down version of DVG’s ‘Mankuthimmana Kagga,’ yet easily comprehensible by the commoners. Each poem whispers to the reader the secret of leading a balanced and harmonious life, stressing on gentleness, humbleness, compassion and strength.
“Be blind in glaring light/ Be deaf among critics/ Be a leader if in fear/ Be a fool among others’ happiness,” says a stanza of a poem on ‘Life of Acting.’ 
The verses, which end with the characteristic ‘Maharshi’ just like ‘Mankuthimma’ in Kagga, have a calming effect on a distraught mind with its rhythmicity and soothing quality. Some of the verses are astoundingly beautiful in the sense that they hit the nail right on the head by speaking out the truth of the matter without wincing.
However, in a few poems, it seems the poet, in an effort to put words which rhyme, has come short of achieving poetic beauty. This creates a blandness in the stanza and makes it too frivolous to read and enjoy.
In the poem on ‘Madi (Untouchability),’ Maharshi rightly asks, “Do you know how many have climbed your throne before you/ How many have ruled your State/ How many have drunk your water/ You are the last one; there is no first one.” His take on praise, sloth, power of money and poverty, science and the world hold mirror to the present lifestyle and conditions of the world.
The 134-page book ends with a poem on diabetes where the poet advices and urges the readers to rise early and be healthy.
The book can be read in one go as it is simple and touching in its thoughts. B.S. Nataraju, who writes with the pen name ‘Besina Maharshi,’ is an Instrumentation Technology Engineer by profession and an alumnus of SJCE in city. He dedicates the book to sages, scientists, poets, scholars, hard-workers who have inculcated philosophy in their life and to his parents. 
Sri Ramakrishna Ashrama President Swami Muktidanandaji has written the foreword while his friends and gurus have penned encouragement. The book, published by Maharshi Innovatives & Publishers, Ramakrishnanagar, Mysore and priced at Rs. 99, is worth a read for both youngsters and those with greying hairs. 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

This Beautician Is a Maven in Make-up: City's Uma Jadhav wins Natl. award


Beauty is in the nature of some persons, others strive hard to look beautiful, there are a few others who love prettifying other people. The 39-year-old Uma Jadhav is among the third kind of persons. Uma Jadhav's Cosmos The Brides Pride Beauty Care and Spa, on 13th main, fourth stage in T.K. Layout, has been a part of Mysore since Nov. 1999.
She was 27-year-old when she decided to become a beautician. She had a diploma in beauticians’ course from Government CPC Polytechnic in Mysore and trained at Waves Academy in Bangalore, Hima Bedi at Andheri in Mumbai and also at Cosmetic Studio in Austria. Uma has won many laurels for her skills.
She had won first prize in make-up, bridal make-up and creative make-up, third in fashion make-up and creative hairstyle, in the competitions conducted by State Beauty Parlours Association. In the year 2009 and 2008, she had won first prize in make-up and best performance-hair, and make-up and hairstyle respectively in the same contest, thus earning ‘Hattrick’ to her name.
In the year 2005, she had won first prize in make-up in a similar competition conducted by Mysore District Beauty Parlours’ Association. She had also participated in a competition conducted in Mumbai last year and was among the final 10 out of 400 contestants.
The latest feather in Uma's cap is the 'Bharat And Dorris Hair and Make-up Award' which she received at the National Bridal and Fashion Hair and Make-up Contest oragnised at Taj Lands End, Bandra, Mumbai on April 29. She has emerged as the first woman beautician to have represented Karnataka in a competition held outside the State.
Here is a tete-a-tete with the beautifying artiste:
 Shwetha Halambi: Why did you decide to become a beautician?
Uma Jadhav: I have studied only upto 10th standard. Though I wanted to study further, I could not do so because of some health matters. And then I was married. After marriage, whenever I went to beauty parlours, I felt a strong urge to learn how to beautify others. Thus I took up the course and am working as a beautician in Mysore since 13 years.
Shwetha: What is your area of expertise?
Uma: Though I do all the basic beauty work at the parlour like eyebrow shaping, facial, waxing etc., I specialise in make-up and hair-styling. There are more than 500 types of hair-styling and about 40 types of make-up like fashion, beads, halo, carrots, ramp, mythology, wedding make-up etc. People who compete in fancy dress contests and act in films opt for halo (ghostly look) and mythology make-up. Carrot make-up is chosen to remove facial marks.
Shwetha: Have you dressed up film artistes?
Uma: Yes. I have also done make-up for film artistes but only if the shooting is done in Mysore, because travelling outside the city for months together along with the film crew is difficult.
Shwetha: You have won many awards for your skills in beautifying others. Does your family support you in your endeavours?
Uma: Absolutely. My husband Gopal Rao, who works in building construction, son Naveesh, who is a II PUC student at Vidhyaashrama, my brother, sister... all help me. Without their help, I would never be able to successfully participate in so many contests and win awards.
Shwetha: Many people believe that application of cosmetics for a longer duration is harmful to the skin — facial or other parts of the body. This can be seen when one looks at the faces of yesteryear actors. As a beautician, do you agree?
Uma: May be it was so in earlier days when there were no good quality creams or cosmetics available. People had less knowledge too about cosmetics. Nowadays, a lot of scientific research is going on in cosmetic industry and many quality products are available in a wide variety of brands.
Most people buy good cosmetics, keep them aside if no occasion arises to use them, and one day remember about them. They then take it out and use it even after its expiry date just so that it doesn't go waste. This harms the skin.
Mostly make-up artistes of actors other than stars don't get good remuneration. So they refrain from buying very good quality cosmetics for the actors and this results in the skin of actors losing their vitality after some time.
Shwetha: Do you teach others who are interested to become beauticians?
Uma: Yes. I have been teaching interested persons since many years. At present, four students are training under me. I conduct regular classes from 11 am to 1 pm. For economically backward students, I teach free of cost.
Shwetha: Keeping aside your profession for a moment, tell us what do you personally believe in — inner or outer beauty?
Uma: Of course, I believe in inner beauty. One's words, behaviour and attitude makes one look beautiful even though that person is without make-up. I remember that I had gone to attend a function recently where Dr. Dharanidevi Malagathi (Dy.SP and Karnataka Police Academy Director) had come as a guest. She was quite simple in her dress and with minimum of make-up. Yet, she was so beautiful. The words she spoke and the way she behaved made her attractive.