Anush Ravindranathan's Blog, page 3
November 15, 2019
November 2, 2019
Three Names and an Incidence
What does the name Sahar mean?
What does Azadi mean?
What is the meaning of Esteghlal?
What is the common link between these names?
Sahar is a feminine name of Persian/ Arabic origin, meaning ‘Just before dawn’. It also has an extended meaning- ‘The Awakening’.
Azadi is a word of Persian origin, meaning ‘Freedom or Liberty’.
Esteghlal is
another word of Persian origin- ‘Independence’.
The common link between these three words is FATE. Fate of a football fan who had to die for her passion, the BLUE GIRL, for a football club, which was her favorite team. Fate of a stadium which witnessed the apathy, and also the wind of change.
I came across an article few weeks back- a story which we all had heard of, a story which saddened all our hearts. But, what struck me were the names.
Sahar Khodayari was the girl arrested in Iran for trying to watch a football match in disguise of a man. Watching football in stadium was banned for women in Iran for the past four decades. When she learned that she could be jailed for the “crime”, she killed herself as a mark of protest. She died on 9/9/2019.
Sahar’s death resulted in “the Awakening” of people, other women and FIFA. The players of Esteghlal football club supported this demand of women for “Independence” to watch their favorite game like any other woman in the world. The result of all the pressure was “Liberty” witnessed at the Azadi stadium.
Sahar’s sacrifice didn’t go in vain. On 9/10/2019, one month after the death of the Blue Girl (the color of the jersey of her favorite team), there was an International match in the same Azadi stadium in Tehran. It was a world cup qualifier between Iran and Cambodia, which Iran won easily. But, it would be remembered best for the presence of about 4000 Iranian women who witnessed their favorite game in the stadium for the first time since 1981.
Sad that Sahar could not witness this wind of change brought in by her sacrifice. But, every heart in the stadium must have prayed for her, and this story will continue to inspire wherever such inequalities exist.
October 20, 2019
NO FORMALITIES PLEASE!
A teacher is
any person who teaches you anything, and not just the subject expert. It could
be a lesson, a chapter, a poem, a trade or just a question to make you
introspect. The person could be of any gender, caste, religion or ethnicity. If
we look around like that, then we have so many teachers around us: Parents,
school teachers, friends, colleagues, professors and most importantly
ourselves.
But age? Definitely, he or she should have had enough
experience in life to teach you something or anything, isn’t it? At least that
is what I used to believe. I was pleasantly proven wrong.
#####
Few days
back my LIC agent visited our house, it was one of his ‘casual business’
visits. Every visit he spends at least half an hour discussing any topic of his
choice mixed with a few financial tips. My two and half year old son is also
fond of him. He is a very reluctant guest and generally we are not one of those
pushy hosts either.
As per the custom of any middle class house in India he was
offered a glass of water, which he drank and kept the glass on the center
table. My son immediately took the glass of water, and kept it in the kitchen. To
which we both said, ‘Good boy.’ My son clapped as he always does when anyone
calls him a good boy.
When asked for tea the agent refused politely. Again my mother asked for if he would like something cold, which he again refused. He had a knack of speaking, so polite that you would never feel offended.
‘I want cold drink!’ my son demanded to his grandmother. But
cold drink for small child in the evening was a big no for her. He was
disappointed, but she cajoled him in to have something else. Again we said,
‘Good smart boy.’ He clapped.
After sometime my mother without asking brought banana chips
and said, ‘You must have them, these are fried at home.’
‘Oh Amma, it was not necessary as I don’t eat fried food too
much.’
‘You can have some. You are too young to have these
restrictions.’
I didn’t understand what the reasoning for that statement
was; he is forty-five years old. My mother never insisted any one too much, but
that day it was different. Too much formality is not her style.
‘I too want,’ demanded my son again. Before anyone could
respond he cupped his tiny hands and filled them with chips. My embarrassed
wife immediately caught hold of him and said, ‘This is for Uncle. I will give
you in your special plate. Come, let us go inside.’
Few minutes later he came running with a small yellow plate half filled with chips. As he ate, he observed that Uncle’s plate was large and filled to the full capacity while his was not. He decided to nullify the injustice and moved towards the table. Understanding his intentions I told him that he will get more once he finished the chips in his plate. Hesitantly he went back to his chair.
‘No problem sir. I don’t like chips very much,’ the agent said
as he took a handful of chips from the plate.
We continued our conversation and didn’t realise that half
the plate was empty now. Also, we didn’t notice two tiny hands at work. Before
I could realise, the plate was gone. My son emptied it in to his plate. Baffled
we both looked at each other. I smiled, the apologetic formal smile.
‘Look what your dear grandson has done?’ I complained to my
mother.
‘Unni! Why did you take Uncle’s chips?’ my mother asked with
commanding love.
My son who was busy finishing his chips, without looking up,
replied in his toddler accent, ‘my plate had less chips than uncle’s, and he
said that he doesn’t like chips. So I took them, I like them very much.’
My mother started laughing and explained what he had said to
the agent. We could not argue with the honesty and truthfulness in his
statement. To mask our embarrassment all the adults in the room, we laughed
together. Our little teacher didn’t notice, he was busy eating chips.
When my mother offered chips again, the agent refused. She
didn’t compel this time.
‘Ok sir, I will leave for now. Good night,’ the agent said.
Before leaving he went to my son’s chair side and said, ‘Good smart boy.’
My son rubbed his tiny oily hands on to his T- shirt, and
clapped.
October 13, 2019
‘PINKU’- The Black Bird, PART-2
Roopak and
Shiksha were disappointed, they cursed the careless mother bird. But, one good
thing had happened, now they knew what Pinku’s feeding habits were.
Roopak placed the cage in the floor
of veranda and tried to feed the bits and pieces of the insects, which Pinku
refused to eat, ‘Ok, so you have decided to die. Isn’t it? I don’t care! At
least, now no one will blame me,’ Roopak spoke to Pinku as if it could
understand him.
Shiksha too sighed and went inside following Roopak. Few minutes later, when they heard Pinku crying in excitement, they rushed to the Veranda. The mother was feeding Pinku; on the floor Pinku could move close to its mother, and thus the mother bird could feed it. When the mother saw Roopak and Shiksha, it flew away again. Roopak and Shiksha were equally elated. Realizing their mistake, they went inside to sneak through the half open door.
‘I think we should name the mother
as well,’ Shiksha suggested.
‘Don’t be over excited, we are not creating
a black bird family here. It is just about Pinku, the moment it flies away we
are done with the charity,’ Roopak answered rather rudely for the first time;
many first times had already happened because of Pinku.
The mother returned to feed Pinku.
After one week…
The routine
continued for one week under the watchful eyes of Shiksha. Tiny feathers of
Pinku were now of considerable size. Pinku fluttered its wings inside the cage
as if practising for the flight to follow. But, if it was ready for the flight,
Roopak and Shiksha were not sure.
The only way to know was to open the cage, which was not
without risks. What if Pinku could not fly far, fell down and injured itself?
What if the loafer cat caught her? What if Pinku got electrocuted?
Roopak had more doubts.
Sunday was the day decided for the experimental flight. Roopak didn’t trust Shiksha alone with the task. When the cage opened, the bird didn’t come out of the cage, it seemed frightened. Shiksha had to carry and place Pinku on the floor of the veranda. The next moment Pinku fluttered its wings and flew, it could fly only a few yards far and few meters high before it fell down. It tried several times but could not get the elevation to fly past the front gate or boundary wall.
Shiksha observed some movement in the bushes a few meters to
the left of Pinku. She cautioned Roopak, who in turn threw a stone in to the
bushes. A grey white Persian cat meowed. Roopak charged towards the cat as if
he was a protective parent. ‘Hatt!!!’ he shouted to boot away the cat.
He turned to Shiksha and ordered, ‘Enough of experiment,
let’s get Pinku back in the cage.’
Roopak was frightened. Shiksha obeyed, and put Pinku back in
the cage. Pinku fluttered its wings vigorously inside the cage again as if
trying to convince them that it is capable of better flight. Shiksha felt pity
for the young bird.
########
Next day morning while having breakfast Shiksha reminded Roopak about the marriage on Sunday which he had promised to attend with her. The marriage was on Sunday, which meant that they had to leave on the Saturday evening. So, they had a deadline now.
‘Do you think Pinku would fly before
we leave?’ Shiksha asked.
‘How would I know? You ask its
mother,’ Roopak didn’t look at her.
‘It’s not funny. Whatever may be the
case, but you will come with me for marriage. Won’t you?’ This was not a
question, rather an instruction.
‘I wonder what happened to your
motherly love for Pinku.’
‘We can take Pinku with us,’ Shiksha
said very casually.
‘Are you seriously so naïve?’ Roopak
frowned.
‘Then we can arrange any of our
neighbours to take care of it for two days,’ Shiksha suggested.
‘That won’t be necessary, Pinku will
fly before that,’ Roopak sounded confident, ‘I will take leave on Saturday.’
‘The way you speak I feel as if you are going to fly with Pinku,’ Shiksha teased him.
‘At least with me around, Pinku
won’t be on that cat’s menu list,’ Roopak mocked back.
######
As expected,
Saturday morning Roopak’s boss had a ‘most important’ meeting. This was unlike
previous ‘most important’ meetings, Roopak was told. The meeting started late,
and ended further late. Roopak could not reach even in the afternoon. The train
was at 7:00 pm, so there was not enough time left for second flight experiment.
Disappointed, when Roopak reached home in the evening, he saw
that Pinku’s cage was open and the bird was not in there. Worried, he called
for Shiksha. Shiksha came running from inside.
‘Where is Pinku?’ Roopak asked
without letting Shiksha to speak.
Shiksha kept
quiet with her expressionless eyes looking in to Roopak’s eyes. They were
trying to communicate, but Roopak was too anxious to read them.
‘I am asking you something, where is
Pinku? What happened? Did you try to make it fly alone? Why don’t you speak
something?’ Roopak spoke in a single breath. He had become more attached to the
bird, perhaps more than Shiksha, during the past two weeks.
Shiksha looked disturbed and confused for want of words, and then burst in to laughter pointing towards the Jamun tree. Roopak stood perplexed, when he turned around, he saw a beautiful sight- the mother and Pinku sat together on a branch of the tree.
After lunch, when Shiksha understood that Roopak won’t be
able to reach early, she opened the cage, and let Pinku fly. Pinku flew and sat
on the front gate, remained there for some time and cried for its mother.
Shiksha stood by its side.
Out of nowhere, the mother came and sat beside Pinku on the gate, and tried to guide it. All of a sudden, following its mother, Pinku flew over Shiksha’s head and sat on the branch of the Jamun tree. Shiksha clapped and jumped with joy. She didn’t expect herself to be so happy for a little bird’s natural success. But, she was happy and excited, which was evident even later when she narrated the episode to Roopak.
Roopak felt a little disappointed that he could not witness
the young friend’s success. But, he was happy for Pinku; happy and relieved. He
looked at Pinku, and remembered the day when he first touched it. Pinku was
busy cuddling under its mother’s wings, it didn’t look back.
[image error]Pinku, ready for its maiden flight…
October 5, 2019
‘Pinku’- the black bird, part-1
Six months
into marriage, Roopak and Shiksha were still getting used to each-other’s likes
and dislikes. When shifted to a rented house near Roopak’s office, they dreamt of
a wonderful life. But, soon they discovered that the common likes shared
between them were sparse. If Roopak could not do without taking bath twice a
day, Shiksha would not mind taking bath twice a week. Roopak would like to
sleep with windows open and fan speed at minimum while Shiksha could sleep only
when suffocated in a closed room under a thick blanket with fan running at its
maximum speed. Roopak liked his tea boiling hot with extra milk while Shiksha
didn’t like tea at all; she liked black coffee. Shiksha didn’t like cooking whereas
Roopak could only help to eat. But, still their life so far had been beautiful
as they happily compromised their likes for each other, Shiksha compromised a
little more than Roopak.
The biggest sacrifice Shiksha made
for Roopak was her sleep. Roopak was a fitness freak, who jogged daily morning
for half an hour before going to gym. He insisted Shiksha to join him in his
daily routine. Shiksha agreed forcing one condition that they would jog only
after 6:30 am, and she won’t come to gym. Getting up that early was something
she had never done in her life, even for exams during her student days.
One morning when they had just
started their jog, Shiksha heard a tweet from the bushes near their gate. She
stopped to enquire. Roopak moved ahead without noticing the pause of his
partner. When he realised his mistake, he returned back to Shiksha who was
curiously inspecting the bushes. Again they heard the sound, it was a black
fledgling in distress. The young bird had fallen from its nest in the
enthusiasm to fly like its mother.
While Roopak decided to ignore,
Shiksha refused to leave the young vulnerable bird at the mercy of fate.
‘It is learning to fly. It shall be
able to do so without much difficulty as it is not injured. Come on lets go,’
Roopak switched on jog mode.
Shiksha remained silent for few
minute and then went inside their house. She brought a card-board box from
inside. She picked up the bird, which cuddled in to her palms with its head
ducked inside the tiny feathers.
‘Do you really think it will survive
if we would leave it here?’ Shiksha asked placing the bird inside the card
board box.
‘I don’t know, but its mother should be nearby. She would take care of it,’ Roopak was not impressed by the kindheartedness of his wife.
‘How do you think she will lift this
chick up there?’ Shiksha pointed up to a nest over an electric post under the
shade of an overgrown Jamun tree.
‘We don’t even know which bird is
it? Look at it, it is black and ugly,’ loving animals, any animal, was beyond
him.
‘As if it was a colourful and cute
one you would have taken care of it!’ Shiksha taunted him.
‘Not that silly. If it’s a crow’s
chick then their whole gang would attack us.’
‘From where did you get this
wisdom?’ Shiksha asked him as she went inside.
‘It is true. Don’t complain later
that I didn’t warn you,’ Roopak shouted from outside, and went to continue his
jog.
######
In the
evening when Roopak returned from the office, he found Shiksha very upset.
After repeated enquiries she told him that she does not know how to and what to
feed the chick. She tried to feed milk in filler, bread crumps, boiled rice
etc. but the bird won’t eat anything, and rather keep crying in high pitch
attracting nearby loafer cats.
Roopak looked at Shiksha with a mix of awe and disapproval; she spoke as if she was speaking about human baby, ‘Did you try water?’ he asked.
‘Oh no. I didn’t try that. That may
work at least for some time until we get any new idea?’
‘I had told you that this is not
going to work.’
‘If we had let this helpless baby
die, how would have we felt?’
‘Don’t know, let’s try now?’
‘Shut up!’ Shiksha frowned as she gave water in filler to the ‘baby’ bird, which seemed little relieved, ‘Come on and get up, we need to go to town. We should buy a cage for it so that it can be safe when we are not around.’
‘I thought we are going to make it
fly away soon?’
‘Yes, we are but not unless we are
sure about its flying skills.’
‘Hmm…Ok. Anyhow, there is no point
arguing.’
‘Smart boy. I love you too.’
In the town,
near the stadium there were lots of pet shops. They all looked the same with
noise and filth around mixed with the dust and noises of passing by vehicles.
‘I don’t like putting these poor
animals in the cage. They deserve to be free as well. This world belongs to all
of us,’ Roopak said in a worried tone.
‘I agree. Now, let’s look for a cage,’
Shiksha reverted in equally worriless tone.
Before placing the bird in cage, Shiksha took the bird from the carton box and came towards Roopak, ‘You can touch it if you wish to. I promise that I won’t tease you.’
Roopak very delicately placed his
index finger on to the chick’s head. Its skin felt very soft and silky against
his rough fingers. He felt nice.
‘See, it was not difficult, was it?’
she too liked that Roopak was getting comfortable with the bird, ‘We should
name it. Why don’t you suggest a name?’ Shiksha wished for more participation
from Roopak.
‘Pinku.’ Roopak answered
spontaneously.
‘Pinku? For a pitch-black bird?
Hmm…creativity is not everyone’s cup of tea, I guess,’ she forgot her promise
not to tease him.
‘Then, blacky?’
‘No. Pinku is good. After all my
love has suggested it,’ Shiksha pinched his cheeks.
#####
One day had
passed, a solution to the feeding problem was yet to be found. Roopak missed
his jog for the first time in a while; they both tried to feed the chick early
in the morning, but in vain.
While having his morning tea, Roopak observed a beautiful slender black bird with long forked tail sitting on a branch of the Jamun tree. Roopak excitedly went inside, and without any explanation took the cage from the store room area and hung it in the veranda. Shiksha followed him clueless. Roopak signaled Shiksha to stay inside. He joined her after closing the door half, the other half was kept open for them to sneak through.
The young bird, Pinku, cried which attracted the black bird sitting on the tree. The chick cried loudly with its beaks open and extending its neck to the fullest. As Roopak had expected, it was the mother. The mother flew away without noticing the cries of its cheek.
Roopak and Shiksha were watching all
this with lots of excitement yet somewhere there was a tinge of perplexlation.
The mother bird returned with a few
insects in its beak. It tried to regurgitate them in to Pinku’s beak but the
distance was more than what the combined beaks and an extended small neck could
have covered. After many attempts the mother dropped the insects, and left.
Pinku was still hungry.
[image error]
September 28, 2019
The beginning…
As they say, ‘To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did’…
I am starting this blog in the hope of reaching more people, making new friends, sharing our experiences and telling many new stories.
September 23, 2019
My First Blog Post
Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.
— Oscar Wilde.
This is the first post on my new blog. I’m just getting this new blog going, so stay tuned for more. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.
