Sam's blog

The Vulture atleast had the brains to wait, for the child to die...

2010-10-31T22:18:00.000-07:00

A few years back a very disturbing and shocking photograph published in the New York Times made ‘the world weep.’ The photograph that captured mass starvation and hunger deaths in Africa showed a severely malnourished girl lying face down on the ground, and a few feet away sat a plump vulture waiting for the child to die so it can feed on her.

The photograph is so disturbing you turn the page or turn your face away. But what if instead of the vulture was sitting a human being waiting for the child to die. Then what would you do?

Hundreds of families among the Sahariya tribe in Baran, Rajasthan are living in a similar state. They have become bonded labourers in their own land.

Two year old Kushi’s cry is unlike any other child’s. She is crying for food. Her face is wrinkled, her hair colored, her hands and feet with wounds and skin cracked in many places, the shape of her bones bare over her skin. Kushi is severely malnourished. Her throat is so bad, that she cannot swallow any solid food. But the family has nothing but five Rotis which Kushi, her five sisters, her father and mother eat morning and evening.

Kushi’s father, Gopal (30) works from dawn to dusk, seven days a week in his own land, but as a daily wage bonded labourer. He gets Rs.25, 000 per year, the entire amount he gives back to the owner to repay his debt. Gopal, his wife and six girls survive on the 35kgs of free wheat that they get from the government distribution centre. Apart from this they have nothing else to eat.

A certain section of people from the neigbouring state, Punjab have invaded and taken hold of Gopal’s farm land. Every single soul in the village is extremely scared to part with any information about their owners. A local said, “There are many incidents in the recent past, where the tribals who protested or questioned the landowners were burnt alive…thrown into burning bushes.”

These tribals have been exploited to the core…living as slaves in their own land.
As the photograph that ‘made the world weep’ comes to my mind again, I think how shockingly inhuman proportions a human being takes, just to satisfy his/her greed.

It's a farce that I can’t even describe these so called humans...the landowners as - “they are like vultures.” Because the ‘bird brained’ vulture atleast had the sense to wait till the child would die. But here human beings are torturously killing their fellow human beings…Alive!

Sulochana’s mom and my mom were both called ‘Servants of God’

2010-07-26T04:20:00.000-07:00

Sulochana’s mother died of AIDS about five years back when Sulochana was just 15. At this tender age, Sulochana took the heavy responsibility of feeding, educating and caring for her brother and two sisters. She makes ends meet by stitches woman's clothes.

Sulochana and her three siblings were born of the same mother but different fathers. None of them know who their fathers are, therefore no one to care for them. Sulochana’s mother was a ‘Devadasi’…‘a servant of god.’ (‘Devadasi’ means ‘a female servant of god’)

As Sulochana was narrating her story, for some strange reason at that moment, still staring into Sulochana’s eyes, I thought about my mother for a second. My mother was a cross-cultural missionary for over 35 years. She had left the comfort of her home and the promise of a teacher’s job, to work as a missionary in some of the most remote and difficult terrains in India. ‘A servant of God’ my mother too was called.
Sulochana’s mother and my mother were both called ‘Servants of God.’ Yet, one was highly respected for being God’s servant and the other was exploited and abused. How paradoxically unjust.

I have always believed and very strongly experienced that every single good thing that has happened in my life is a trickled down blessings because my parents were doing “God’s Work.” But here in a small house in Bellary, were four children, who were plundered of their childhood, their innocence, their joy and their ability to dream because their mother was dedicated to the temple to be “a servant of god” and was abused and raped…all in the name of god.

Despite all odds in her life, Sulochana stands tall as a brave, confident and strong woman. wow! What a great woman she would grow up to be. A great inspiration!

But as we left her house, I had many questions running through my head. What did Sulochana or any of her siblings do, that they were born to a ‘servant of god’ who was abused for being one? Or rather, what did I do to be born to ‘a servant of God’ who was highly respected for being one? Why? Was it only because our mothers served two different gods? If there is an answer, I’m sure I will feel guilty or angry for it.

Should I feel sorry for Sulochana? I definitely can’t feel blessed for not being born to Sulochana’s mother. That would be my greatest sin if I did. Who is to blame? God, you, me…I don’t know.

But every time I say a prayer for Sulochana or think of her, i wonder what her answer would have been to one question that I did not ask her that still lingers in my head - “Sulochana, Do you believe in God?”

The Doves and the Devastated Fishermen!

2009-10-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

The doves were sitting in a row on the power-cables that went above the village. I saw them neatly perched making those deep grunts from the depth of their throats. “Those are our doves, we grow them,” said Yesebu. I looked at them again; balancing themselves on the power cable sat nine doves looking down at their village, absolutely devastated, rampaged and cruelly washed away by the floods.

I had just met Barathi (12), who narrated to me how they escaped the flood waters."I was very scared when the flood waters came into our village, I thought I will drown and die, I was crying and my brother put me on a small boat and we escaped to a higher ground with the rest of the village," said Barathi, the fear still evident on her face…probably the scenes of that tragic day still lingering in her tender brains.

Barathi lives with her two brothers and her sister along the banks of the river Krishna, in a village called Thimmapur. The villagers, are all fishermen, and live as a colony of about 40 families on the banks of the river Krishna. They do their fishing on the River and on the back waters.

When the floods came, they all got on their boats, whichever they could get on and escaped the floods, rowing for about 2 kms. Barathi and her entire village have now taken shelter in a school that's nearby. But they've lost everything they had. "Our entire house is destroyed, I just took a very few clothes," says Barathi, looking back at her belongings kept on the corridor of the school.

The water in the village has receded completely, but the entire colony is completely filled with slush and dirt. The village is covered in about 2 feet of slippery, stinking slush. The amount of damage caused to this village is completely irretrievable.

Barathi cannot come with us, but Yesebu and a few others take me and Srinivas, the admin-assistant, World Vision India to visit their now destroyed village.

We walked for about two kilometers and reached a small stream that was running across…just a jump and we were on the other side of it. Raju, one of the villagers asked me to remove my slippers there near the stream and we’ll have to go barefoot from here.

It was slippery smelling dirty thick brown slush all the way. As we neared the village the smell and the depth of the slush increased. It was then, that Yesubu showed me the doves sitting on the power cables.
I wondered what must have been running through their minds when they looked down at the state of their village.

All along our two kilometer walk in the slush, I saw the destruction of the cruel waters. Boats capsized, tarpaulin roof tops buried under slush, houses made of hay caught amidst tree branches, dead snakes, fallen power cables and it’s poles, roof tops stuck to the thick slushy mud, completely destroyed houses with just a door left standing, fish storage trays that had travelled kilometers, and the thermocol houses of the doves.

The entire length and breadth of the village was destroyed. It would take months and probably years to bring it back to normalcy.

I stood there, my heart growing heavy, didn’t know why. I could visualize it in my head, the beautiful village that it must have been. A village of 40 families, living on the banks of a river who do fishing for their living, beautiful doves flying around in the village, little children playing on the river banks, the evening and morning sunrays adding beauty to the gentle river waters.

Must have been an absolutely beautiful village, I thought to myself.

The entire community of fishermen are actually migrants who had migrated from a place, that's about 500 kms from their now destroyed village. They migrated here about 5 years back in search of fresh waters to fish. But now that their entire village is washed away by the floods, they have now nowhere to go.

Yesubu told us that their village did not have any school. So as a village they hired a teacher who would come and teach the children in this village everyday. And the entire village pulled in money together every month and paid the teacher her salary.

Such was the love and commitment they had towards their children…to educate them, no matter what.
In spite of being fishermen, they are now afraid to go into the waters again. "It will take atleast another five days to one week, before we start fishing again" said one of the men there. They've been asked to vacate from the school now, where they are staying now. "We don't know where to go now, we cannot go back to our village also now, we have to recreate our village all over again and find a new place to do it now," said Rajulu in a very frustrated tone.

Yesebu, explained to us how the village was destroyed…he showed us each hut and each item lying on the slush and caught among tree branches…explaining how it had got there…the horrifying intricate details of what had happened that day. He showed us his church that was completely destroyed. Only the door of the church stood there.

It was very sad. My heart grew heavy.

Here in front of me was an entire village raped of it’s existence. More than a hundred people including a lot of little children who have lost their houses to the fierce floods. They had nowhere to go, they have to start life all over again, from scratch. I still cannot imagine how heart breaking it must be for those villagers…especially the little children.

The next day after our visit, I saw Barathi again. She had received some relief materials from World Vision India. She managed a soft gentle smile, when she saw me clicking pictures of her.

I couldn’t, but wonder what must have been going through her young tender head…must be a million things - fear, doubt, a bleak uncertain future, the images of that day running through her head.

It was tough to look at her. Would she be alright? Would she have a good future? I don’t know.

A couple of days later, when we were returning to our rooms very late in the night after a long hectic days work, the images of the fishermen of Thimmapur, their destroyed houses, Barathi and the doves crossed my mind. And with the thoughts of the doves came the thoughts of an old gospel song I had heard just once.

When Noah had drifted on the flood many days
He searched for land in various ways
Trouble he had some but wasn't forgotten
He sent him His love on the wings of a dove

On the wings of a snow white dove
He sends His pure sweet love
A sign from above
On the wings of a dove

I don’t know if those doves are still sitting there watching their destroyed village…I don’t know if the fishermen have started fishing again…I don’t know if Barathi is fine…But, somewhere deep down I feel they all will be fine.

I just hope and pray that on the wings of a dove they will find their answers.

Whic side of the brain do you use?

2009-09-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

I AM RIGHT BRAINED!!! :) Click the link below to find out yours.

The higher of these two numbers below indicates which side of your brain has dominance in your life. Realising your right brain/left brain tendancy will help you interact with and to understand others.

Left Brain Dominance: (7)Right Brain Dominance: (16)

Do you use your Right Brain/ Left Brain. Take this Quiz and find out

Garbage Dreams (a short story)

2009-08-28T23:03:00.000-07:00

“It’s a gold ring,” whispered Selvam, his mouth gaping…looking at the beautiful ring between my dirty fingers. The glassy reflection of the smooth shiny ring lit his wide eyes.
“Where did you get it da?”
“I found it in that corner there,” I pointed my finger across the vast ocean of garbage…our fellow rag-pickers busy competing with stray dogs and crows to get their best.

Selvam’s face…his expressions…the great times we had…rolling on the bouncy garbage…the parottas we ate together…the images of me and him starring with awe at those young men with race bikes practicing their stunts…every little detail flashed before my eyes.

I could see the red blood running towards my dirty feet, finding it's way through the cracks on the cemented pavement.

Selvam and me, we would lie on the pavement everyday, with the sounds of high-horse powered engine sounds on one side and the strong smell of garbage on the other. All through the night we would talk about having our own bikes and racing each other.

We would fall asleep, the gleaming halogens of advertisement hoardings lighting our rugged cement beds.

But that day, we felt that we were just one door away from all our dreams becoming real.

Both of us knew the gold ring we found could change our destinies.

“Today is the last day we are sleeping on the pavement”
Yeaaiye!!! Shouted Selvam punching his fist towards the dark sky
Suddenly a hush
“……… What if they think we stole the ring?”
“What else will they think? That we both pulled together our savings and bought this ring?!!!
“Don’t worry; I know a setji who’ll buy it”

After safely tugging the ring under the garbage bag, we sank into our dreams.

The loud roar of the garbage Lorries jogging by, woke me up from my last dream on the cement slab pavement.

I tried feeling it, my fingers running all around me – under my garbage bag pillow, under my buttocks, near my armpits.

My gold ring was not there.

Selvaaaa? Sel….v….

The Ring was gone and so was Selvam. I crawled around my garbage bag like a restless cat. Straining my eyes on the dusty road, I saw him. Running along with the busy traffic, where everyone was neatly dressed, in hierarchical modes of transport, chasing distant dreams.

I bit my teeth…cuss words flowing through my mind…he was taking my part of the dream with him!

My heart, body and soul were heavy with anger. I ran as fast as my feet could take me.
I pounced on him from behind.

Whaamm!!... We both fell on the road.

Hoosh!!... Whoonnnhhh!!…. Whooonn!.... the traffic too busy to stop and look, Zoomed past us, the gush of wind from the vehicles passing by, kissing my ears.

His heavy hand was squeezing my throat. Kaarrgghhh!!....

My both hands wandering around me, searching for something on the hot dusty road, I felt something hard. May be it was a stone; I couldn’t make out what it was.

Thuddd!!... I hit him. His hands around my neck loosened.

The next minute, I was there in front of the shop – ‘Mool Chand Pawn Broker Shop’

“Ha.. ha.. ha.. ha.. haaa…” What do you want for this my boy?
One lakh rupees?... ha… ha… ha…”

“What? What are you staring at me for? What do you expect me to give you for an aluminium ring? Get going boy, I have other works to do.”

I stood there stunned. It was like falling from the sky straight on to a heap of garbage. All dreams shattered away amidst the stinky trash.

“Get lost you fool,” the sethji shouted. “Don’t stand here…”

I was thinking how I would tell Selvam all this. How would he feel if he knew that all this stealing, greed, running, beating and punching was after all for a piece of aluminium.

I thought to myself that sometime down the crossroads of our lives we would laugh about it when we think about these incidents.

I could see a small crowd gathered on the pavement.

“What could all those people be looking at?” I said to myself, walking towards the crowd gathered on the side of the road.

There was thick crimson blood flowing down the road from Selvam’s head.

Selvam was dead. I killed him for a dream we both didn’t have.

The Reverend and his Trans-gender Mother

2009-03-21T08:34:00.000-07:00

Every single transgender in the city, from Tambaram to Ponneri knows him. To some he is their father, to the rest he is their brother and to one he is her son.
It all started about 25 years ago when Rev. Charles saw a group of people beating and chasing a eunuch. He rescued the eunuch from the gang. But instead of thanking him, the eunuch rejected him.
“If you talk to me, they will think badly about you”, the eunuch said.
But Rev. Charles, a pastor with the Church of South India (CSI) was persistent. He took the eunuch home and they started conversing over a cup of tea.
“How can I call you”, the Reverend asked
“People call me ‘maari’, but I don’t like that name, It sounds masculine” the eunuch replied.
Eunuchs want themselves to be identified more as females than as males or even trangenders. But they usually hate talking to women. They want an identity as women in order to get the attention of men that is all.
Men tease them, so they feel that they are at least attended to and looked at.
“He wanted her to be called as she”, said Rev. Charles.
So from then on ‘Maari’ was re-christened ‘Maria’.
Right from his childhood Rev. Charles was keen on doing things that other people don’t normally do. His passion for music drove him to learn 19 different instruments. He specialized in violin and flute since they were difficult to play. “I then took up flute, because there were too many violinists around” he says. He is now more popularly known as ‘flute’ Charles.
He always has a heart for people who are special. His thesis for his Bachelors in Divinity (B.D) at Madurai was on Leprosy. He did a paper presentation in Germany on the Physically Challenged and another one in Switzerland on the Mentally Retarded.
Rev. Charles now got a few more friends through Maria. They all were born like Maria. Rev. Charles started studying more about these people. He researched on these people.
The change or the diffusion in the chromosomes of the baby gets defused in the 9th week inside its mother’s womb. The parents are not responsible in any way.
For a Spastic child it is family Hereditary. A child can be born mentally retarded if the couple is close relative. And the intake of some drug can cause a child to be born physically handicapped. But for a transgender, there is no such reason. It just happens.
Eunuchs don’t stay with their families, because they are not accepted and cared for. Around 92% of the eunuchs do not stay with their families. Another reason why they do not stay with their families is because they prefer not to be under the control of any one. 80% of them smoke and drink. And most of them indulge in sexual activities by choice. They are not forced into sex, except for a few.
“It is more of an identity crisis for them. By nature they have a liking for sex”, says Rev. Charles. “Most of them are physically harassed and mentally tortured”. Some of them even get closely attached to one person and live as their concubine.
“My challenge now was for them to be one of us, for which I wanted to become one among them”, says Rev. Charles.
So he decided to get himself adopted as a son to one of the senior most eunuchs in the country.
“Never in the history of India has a son been adopted by a eunuch” he says with his eyebrows raised and with proud smile.
“I was the first one”
He called up Latha Nayak the ‘Guru’ of the second family in the kingdom of the eunuchs and told her about himself and got to know more about her. He then told her his wish to be adopted as her son.
Eunuchs in India live in a small kingdom that has seven families – Lalan Waley, Raskar Waley, Shakla Waley, Hadj Brahm Waley, Bendhi Bijar Waley and Dongri Waley.
The heads or the ‘gurus’ as they are called, of these seven families are Nasim Nayak, Latha Nayak, Bindhya nayak, Haskar Nayak, Faridh nyak, Ragini Nayak and Shyamana Nayak respectively. All of them reside in Mumbai.
“My mother is the ‘guru’ of the second family” says Rev. Charles proudly.
“A small ceremony was conducted for me to be adopted as their son” It was a gathering where all the Eunuchs of Mumbai came together. The other six ‘gurus’ of the families were invited as special guests.
A holy cloth was put on Latha Nayak covering her head. Rev. Charles knelt down near the feet of Latha nayak, his hands near his mouth, as if drinking water from a tap. He then drank cow’s milk that was poured on Latha Nayak’s head down through her body.
“Have you ever seen a golden tumbler?” he asked excitedly. “I was given cow’s milk in a golden tumbler” he exclaimed.
When Rev. Charles came back to Chennai after the adoption ceremony, he was surprised to see a large gathering of eunuchs, holding garlands in their hands, waiting to welcome him. “The news of me being adopted as a son reached Chennai immediately” says Rev. Charles.
For the past 8 years Rev. Charles and his family have been working for the welfare of these people. Every year Rev. Charles, his wife a Psychiatrist and their two daughters, one a dentist and the younger a nutritionist go and visit Latha Nayak.
“Any emergency, I rush to their rescue”, he says.
Not much has been achieved, but he is happy that there are some who have stopped shop begging and go to dignified jobs and some pursue their studies.
Narthangi has done her Phd. in Indian Dance and Sonali a HIV+ for 11 years works for an NGO. She heads four projects at present and has about 20 others working under her. They work among women sex workers, distributing condoms and spreading awareness on AIDS.
“It feels great when I see them going to their offices in a dignified way”
Leaning forward from his chair and placing his bearded chin on the palm of his hands, Rev. Charles says “Only one out of 8,000 children is born this way, we still have difficulty accepting that one child”
“All they want is acceptance”, he said, the burden to uplift these people, very evident in his eyes.

God Creates Man Creates God!!!

2009-03-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

A hammer, a sickle and a stone is all the've got to create their master piece. They create Gods and Goddesses that millions of people will bow to some day. They are the artists with hammers – the sculptors at Mahabalipuram.
“No one in my family has done this job before, it’s purely out of my own interest and passion for sculpting that I have chosen this field,” says Ravi (33) who has done his B.Sc. in Temple Architecture from the Government college of Architecture and Sculptures. Apart from a passion and love for the art one needs to have an enormous amount of patience.
“A degree in Sculpting sure helps, but it’s the practice and patience that helps you become a fine sculptor,” adds Ravi who has an experience of 18 years apart from his three years degree. “It took me about 10 to 12 years to be able to carve a full stone all by myself,” he adds.
The amount of detail on a piece of sculpture depends on the amount the customer is willing to shell out for a piece of sculpture. A statue of about 1 to 1 ½ feet takes at least five days to complete. “We have even spent Six months to One year on just one statue,” says Pushparajan (64) who has been sculpting for the past 50 years.
“The stone that we use for carving are usually brought from vallajabad and sometimes from Karnataka,” says Ravi. “Only these stones are easy to carve and when you bang the stone they give out the sound of a bell, which you won’t find in any other stone except the ones in Vallajabad in Kanchipuram,” adds Ravi.
“The rates of the statues vary from 10,000 to 4 lakhs and we are paid Rs.250 per day,” says Raja another sculptor who has been doing this since the age of 14.
“The only local markets we have are the temples. 70% of our clients are all foreigners,” says Subramani the owner of a sculpting shop who has 10 sculptors working under him.
Mahabalipuram is one of the main tourist attractions of Tamil Nadu and these sculptors have been doing this for generations. Yet, they do not have any pension schemes or even a proper chanelised system to sell their creations. The government has built a small shopping complex exclusively to sell sculptures, but so far not one shop has been taken by any of the sculpting shop owners.
“This is the most difficult of arts,” says Pushparajan. “One small mistake, the stone could crack and months of hard work and patience will go in vain. In some cases the stone itself would have a hollow space within them that we can’t find out and for no mistake of ours all our work will break in an instance” adds Pushparajan, pointing a statue of Natrajan with a broken leg lying under a lamp post.

Children of the Forests (A profile on the Irula Tribe)

2009-03-18T08:30:00.000-07:00

It was an experience of a lifetime. We had our bags packed and were ready to go to a place called ‘Thandarai’, which we heard, had some organization that worked for the welfare of some tribe. After about two hours of train journey and another half an hour journey by the local bus we were dropped on the Thirukalakundram High Road, in the Eastern Ghats with no one around us. There was no sign of any living being, whatsoever.

With little ponds on one side and a small hill on the other, we walked for about two kilometers, down a quite, breezy, freshly laid tar road. At last we were there at the entrance of the ITWWS (Irula Tribal Women’s Welfare Society). Never did any one of us have the slightest imagination that there could ever be such a beautiful, quite, serene place 70 kms away from the city. And neither did we know that tea made using Hibiscus Petals (we were welcomed with one) would taste so good. It truly was a wonderful place.

“The Irula Tribal Women’s Welfare Society (ITWWS) is a non- government organization established in the year 1986 to document the traditional knowledge of the ‘Irula’ tribe for the empowerment of Irula women. ITWWS is a center for Irula tribes and has its own center in Thandarai village, 10 kms from Chengalpet town, south of Chennai. The ITWWS campus covers 15 acres surrounded by the Eastern Ghats landscape of low hills covered with forests of the “tropical evergreen scrub” type.

The Irulas are basically a semi-nomadic tribe. They are spread over a vast area of northern Tamilnadu and southern Andhra Pradesh and were initially hunter-gatherers depending on forest products for their day-to-day food and medicinal needs. They are the ultimate jungle folk, and their knowledge of plants and animals is a data bank of immense value. The Irulas typically live in small groups on the outskirts of villages. Their diet includes herbs, tubers, rats, termites, mongoose, turtles and monitor lizards.

The Irulas are one of the most marginalized groups in Tamilnadu. Their socio-economic rights as well as access to forests for minor-forest produce have been severely curtailed by society as well as government. The Irulas do not have any assets and they migrate for food and employment.

Most of them have serious health problems including sexually transmitted infections, and the children are malnourished and often chronically ill. They are landless laborers with a low participation in politics. They have lost their forest-based livelihoods supports and indigenous identity because of “modern culture”.
Illiteracy, poverty, steady exploitation and discrimination are some of the major problems faced by the Irulas every single day.

Immense Knowledge about medicinal Plants
Forest resources provide life to many communities and especially to the tribes/adivasis, through various means such as food, shelter, water, fodder, firewood and medicine. Among them medicinal plants are an important and valuable means of livelihood. They have tremendous scientific and commercial potential; but many species are in the verge of extinction because of unbalancing factors like de-forestation, over-grazing and over-extraction. Hence there is an urgent need to document and regenerate adivasi knowledge of medicinal plants.
There is close relationship between the adivasis and the natural forest. Due to forest conservation policies and environment protection laws the actual conservators (tribal people) have been displaced and forced to leave forest areas. The irula tribe is one of the victims of this process. A concrete strategy to reclaim such rights for adivasis will both protect forest resources as well as promote conservation practices.

A dwindling community!
The Irulas are considered to be the poorest tribal community with a population of just over 2.1 lakhs. They are concentrated mainly in the north-eastern parts of Tamilnadu and are traditionally hunters and food gatherers, very much known for their snake catching and rat catching skills.
As members of a cooperative they collect snake venom and sell it to the state for the production of anti venom serum. During the last century the community became nomadic, as they had to search for productive forestland. But their situation became impossible during the last forty years due to state interventions / ’development processes’ in the forest areas. They were forced to leave the forests.
The state has not provided any welfare services, reflected in low literacy (less than 4%), land or employment opportunities. They suffer from social and economic discrimination and with low life skills they can just about eke out a living. Irulas are landless and typically inhabit small hamlets on the fringes of villages; some of these settlements are located on the mouths of rivers and canals, which are good for fishing and hunting.

Equality is the substance of the Irula community in all aspects of hunting, sharing, eating, singing dancing and gender.

Customarily, they worship ‘Kanniyamma’, a version of Shiva’s wife Parvathi. There is annual festival in worship of Kanniyamma called mamsimagam, which is filled with singing and dancing and a gathering of over fifty thousand people. Irulas are known for their spiritual talent in fortune telling (“Kuri Solluthal”). The Irulas have their own marriage rituals, which they still follow. They do not cremate their dead; they bury them in separate burial grounds.

Economic situation of the Irulas!
Some of the Irulas in north Tamilnadu still continue to practice the traditional occupations of food gathering and snake catching for venom extraction. In Thiruvallur and Kanchepuram districts many of them (roughly 10,000) are working as bonded laborers in the rice-mills, earning an average of Rs.15 for an 18-hour day. In the brick making industries, the wages are about RS.60 a day for a man and Rs.40 a day for women.
While in the coastal areas, they work as construction workers, catching fish and taking up any other seasonal employment. For construction work, men earn about Rs.80 a day and women about Rs.60 a day for other agricultural and seasonal employment work, men earn Rs.50 a day and the women earn Rs.25 a day. In marine and inland fishing activities, the men catch fish, process it and sell it in nearby villages and in the process they earn about Rs.70 a day.

Health!
The Irula habitations on the coast are small and isolated habitations, and hygienic practices are low among the Irulas in the districts. They generally use the herbal medicines but many of them die due to serious illness, which cannot be treated by them. Hygiene is very poor especially among children and hence they become malnourished and fall victim to disease. Access to medical assistance is very limited; they cannot even visit the primary health centers.

Status of Women!
The women and children are the most neglected from the development process. Within the community however there is an equal status for women, there are no assets in any form and children lack opportunities to go to school, because of distances and discrimination. The Irula community did not consider education as an important dimension for the well being of their children, as they considered themselves to be alienated from entire development process and thus they did not show any interest to send their children to school. And therefore, there exists a very high prevalence of child labor.

But nowadays, the children have started going to schools. “Our children are the first generation of school goers in our community” says Rani, the Cultural Secretary of ITWWS proudly.

However due to the traditional practices, early marriage and early childbirth is common among the Irula community. And as a result of early marriage and childbirth the Irula women suffer from early adulthood and they face gynecology problems, which generally are not treated. Many women die due to complications during childbirth, as there is no trained assistance.

Government Service!
Most of the Irula community members do not have voter identity cards, as they are semi nomadic and their names, and/or any other information do not feature in any statistics. They do not have birth certificates, community certificates and ration cards. Due to the lack of all these, they are not considered to be eligible for any jobs in the government services.

Basic amenities like drinking water, electricity, roads, housing etc. are not provided in the Irula hamlets. They are an extremely knowledgeable and exceedingly skilled Tribe, which is pleading for recognition and livelihood at the same time.

The Whole Nation Celebrated!!!!

2009-02-24T02:35:00.000-08:00

"All my life I had a choice of hate and love. I chose love and I'm here."..... Man! what a way to accept an oscar award. Superb line of thought. A.R. Rehaman.....The man of the moment.

There's one stance i quiet liked in this whole episode of Rehaman winning the oscar award. The Whole nation celebrated....From the slums of Dharavi where the movie was shot to the slums of chennai, the home of the genius.....

Every news channel covered the oscar ceremony with a half hour special on A.R.Rehaman and his remarkable journey to the oscars.

Right from the auto drivers to IT professionals to music directors, singers, technicians, musicians, politicians, the petty shop owner down the street....every single person in India was elated on A.R Rehaman Winning the oscar.....

That's What makes my country (INDIA) special...We celebrate every triumph together.

Most countries celebrate a soccer win....But a movie award? i don't think so.
And i think that's what keep this crazily divergent country constantly on the move.

It's Soul. It's Vibrancy. The People of India.

Jai Ho! INDIA. Jai Ho!

Gentlemen for Sale!!!

2009-02-05T23:29:00.000-08:00

Ah!!! It’s supposed to be a big day in Cricketing history…the Gentleman’s game. India is all excited about it. (atleast according to media reports)…and there seems to be an excitement in the air.
Well it’s the day when some of the most talented and most skilled cricketers of the world are going to be “AUCTIONED”

‘Auctioning of Human Beings for their skills’?

Auctioning of Human Beings actually dates back to the 16th, 17th and 18th century when African slaves (men, women and children) were bought by the Whites, i.e the British, through an auction. The auction was usually advertised through flyers and posters. (see pics of some posters). Why the British? Because they were the superpowers during that time and had most parts of the world under their belt.

Lo and behold…the earth went a full circle…Times changed. And now, we the people of India (the soon to be ‘superpowers’ of the world) are buying off White men for the sheer purpose of entertaining us. Way to go guys way to go!!!

Shame on us!

Shame on us and shame on the players! Because the African slaves were auctioned by force. They had no other choice. They were the victims of a foolish, selfish and animalistic practice. But here, it is auction by choice, not by force.

And the funniest part - Its called "The Gentleman's Game"

A very sad state - that history should repeat itself in this fashion.

See the world a little closer.

2007-10-08T08:53:00.000-07:00

These are some pictures i shot.

ZZZZzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!

2007-09-23T08:41:00.000-07:00

"Though the old saying goes - 'Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise". In modern times, going to sleep before 12 a.m (earliest) is equivalent to missing one half of your life. There is a whole new world that wakes up when the normal world goes to sleep.
The National Sleep Foundation, an organisation in the United states, through a plethora of studies have demonstrated that an adult needs a minimum and maximum of 8 to 9 hours of sleep. The benefits of sleeping 8-9hrs? - Long life (people who sleep long, live long), alertness, sharp memory etc....
The researchers from the University of warwick on their behalf have spent many a sleepless nights to prove that lack of proper sleep can double the risk of death from cardiovascular diseases and oversleeping can double the risk of death.

"SLEEP" - considered to be the epitome of laziness is afterall one of the main factors that keeps a man Brisk and away from death's risk.

2007-07-02T09:09:00.001-07:00

God's (forgotten) Children

2007-07-01T08:06:00.000-07:00

It was during my days at the Madras University, where i was doing my Post graduation in Journalism did i start reading, hearing and seeing the world around me. Till then it was just me, my friends and family. Nothing much beyond that affected me much. But then once i started reading and knowing about things that are happening to people, or rather helpless and meek people, i've never ceased thinking about them. Of all the things that i got to know, there's one issue that really affected me a lot and has moved me.

Some time back 'THE WEEK" (dated May 20, 2007) magazine did a cover story which was titled - "God's Forgotten Children". The article started like this "Struggles in life, for some, never cease...." and then it went to tell about little children who have been either affected or infected by AIDS and have become orphans. Isn't it sad, that for these children struggles in life will never cease. Little children suffering for absolutely no mistake of theirs.
These children will suffer all their life emotionally, physically, mentally, financially... Gosh! in every single aspect of their lives they will have to swim against the tide and for what are they suffering all this - "mistakes of their parents.

The article (the week) quotes an old grandmother saying as such - "I had to feed them leftovers thrown to the buffalo"... the 'them' here refers to her orphaned HIV+ grandchildren. This is the state of children affected with HIV+ and AIDS in India.

The National AIDS control organisation says that 60,000 children were 'born' with the infection in the year 2005 alone. The children orphaned by AIDS in India is believed to be approaching 2 million, of this more than 2.5 lakh are 'infected' children and the rest 'affected'.... But the problem with this is that only 10% of the infected are aware of their status.

These children have been denied the right to life and happiness. Now, who has denied them these rights?, whose mistakes or sins are these? . Some blame it on their parents, Some blame it on the society and most blame it on God.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, "The greatest sin of our time is not the few who have destroyed but the vast majority who sat idly."

Let's do something. Let's make a difference.

a whole new world

2007-05-25T10:09:00.000-07:00

i have never been into blogging and don't know much about it. but it sure has tingled the curiosity in me and here iam punching the tiny buttons on my keyboard trying to spill my mind.