Monday, September 17, 2012

Ashes

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A Psalm Of Life

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time; -

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.

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It is rarely that I quote an entire poem in my blog.

But each of the above nine stanzas happens to have one or more Quotable Quotes that I read here and there.

The lines that always intrigue me most are:

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.


The line, "Dust thou art, to dust returnest" is lifted from the Holy Bible:

The context is fascinating. God finishes His Creation in six days and in the Garden of Eden he makes Adam in His own image and then Eve. And says to them to eat and enjoy all the fruits in the Garden (without slaving) except that hanging from the Tree of Knowledge.

And discovers by and by that His commandment has been broken by Adam and confronts him in anger. Adam squarely shifts the blame on to Eve saying it was she that gave him the forbidden fruit to eat. And Eve blames the Serpent for tempting her to eat it. 

God then curses the Serpent thus:


14 And Jehovah God saith unto the serpent, 'Because thou hast done this, cursed art thou above all the cattle, and above every beast of the field: on thy belly dost thou go, and dust thou dost eat, all days of thy life;

God then expels Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden and curses them that they shall henceforth toil by the sweat of their brow to survive and will be subject to birth and death:

 19 by the sweat of thy face thou dost eat bread till thy return unto the ground, for out of it hast thou been taken, for dust thou art, and unto dust thou turnest back.'


The young man in Longfellow's poem contests the Biblical Quote saying that it is only the body that is subject to birth and death but not the soul.

That, sort of, has ever been an unanswered and unanswerable debating point.

Science says that all life on earth is raised from earth under the kindly Sun that is of middle age now. So, there is no question that chemistry rules our life from womb to tomb.

And yet...when Ishani was placed in my lap on her 21st day, I couldn't help wondering how this cute bundle of life came as if from nowhere into my bewildered lap. And when my wife was being cremated, I couldn't help wondering where that bundle of life has suddenly vanished...Somerset Maugham says in his Razor's Edge:

"The dead look so dead when they are dead"

I didn't attend many childbirths but I did assist in a few cremations...it was always a sort of momentary awakening.

Birth and Death are truly gruesome events next only to marriage which is squarely the culprit.

The day after the cremation of his mother, my son was taken to the cremation ground and under the spell of mantras he was asked to pick up remnants of some typical bones that were still warm and place them in a copper urn. And the urn was stored in the Ashes Safe there for us to pick it up before going forth to immerse them in a river of our choice and convenience. The urn was suitably labelled and we were instructed to pick it up before six months...thereafter they said they are no longer responsible for its safekeeping. But I guess  those ashes were truly theft-proof...the copper urn was not.

The other day Ishani and her mom left Hyderabad on a much-needed holiday to Nellore for ten days...the latest reports indicate that Ishani is terribly busy.

My son and I thought it the best time to perform the Immersion Ceremony which I always loved. I had carried my Father's ashes to Benares to immerse them in the Ganga he loved so much almost two decades back. And my cousin, GMK, who was a Professor of Metallurgy at BHU-IT (now IIT) was our most helpful Guide and emcee. And my wife and son and I had a lovely time hosted by Prof & Mrs GMK after the ceremony was over.

Benares is too far for us now and so we settled on the Krishna River flowing through the Nallamala Forest where nestles the hill temple town Srisailam.  It is about 5 hours drive by taxi from Hyderabad and half of it is through the Ghat Section whose approach road closes by 3 PM. 

There is a reason for this. Nallamala is a vast forest which is a Tiger Reserve. Apparently the number of tigers has gone up by a factor of two since the last census was taken:

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=731wud_vHVs


Taking a reliable tiger census is a tricky job even with hi-tech gadgets...the only way to do it is by tracking the pug-marks near their watering holes as quickly as possible, say, within a week so that there is no repetition. And so a vast number of people are employed but the forest is so huge and so intractable that the only Guides available are over 70 years old...the younger ones moved into the towns. 

There is a cute reason given to the sudden spurt of increase in the ever-dwindling number of tigers...their boon is the increased availability of Cooking Gas...no need of wood-cutting for fuel anymore. Nallamala fortunately doesn't seem to have sandalwood trees. And it is said that if you leave a jungle-tract unmolested for just a decade, it will rejuvenate and double its produce which sustains its flora and fauna.

So, we started on Saturday morning around 10 AM in a taxi driven by Imran, our regular driver on demand. My good friend Prof NP offered to join us in the weekend trip most graciously. We two didn't have a holiday together for decades and it was time to catch up on news and views and gossip. My son booked two A/C double-bedded rooms in the AP Tourism Hotel Haritha for Saturday night.

Imran is a curious character...he is an expert driver of his Tata Indica but his left leg is stricken with polio and he limps in his walk. I suppose it means driving is easier than walking. He is a rare species of taxi-drivers who don't drink. He chews his perennial tobacco though...I guess they call it guthka:




http://www.funtoosh.com/jokes/indian_jokes/498

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqL9BkOgigY

He is forever opening his driver's door and spitting. But that keeps his mouth shut unless you make him talk. Silence in taxi-drivers is rare. I and my son always keep talking to them so they don't doze.

The other day a week ago, Imran was not available so he sent his mamajee. As usual I befriended him and while leaving, driving Ishani and Co to the Secunderabad Station, he passed the endearing comment:

"Sir, you look like Abdul Kalaam"

I laughed and took it as a compliment...to Abdul Kalaam ;-)

I hate to go to the barber shop ever since the day in my youth when I was deeply engrossed in woolgathering and said:

"Yes"

to a question the Barber posed. And he took advantage of it and broke all my joints from top to bottom...the most painful treatment was the one he gave my stiff neck unasked.

And so the likeness to our famous Rocket Scientist...I guess he too had a similar chastening experience in his youth.

All of us had a roaring weekend as you can see from the pictures I posted this morning...


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