Poised For Change

For our friends Marcia and Jim Brown, living on the last frontier, in Fairbanks, Alaska, Covid-19 epitomizes change: the Change, as prophesied by several religious texts as well as by the great mystics of the world. In fact, it was in its anticipation that they moved to the interior wilderness of the 49^th state, during the Global Oil Crisis of the early seventies. For, the great clairvoyant Edgar Cayce, who foretold the shifting of the Earth's axis, and the successive turmoil which would engulf the world, eventually to bring about a new consciousness, had warned his followers, `Stray not far from the shores of Fairbanks’. So, that is where they live, preparing themselves for over four decades for this defining moment. When they built themselves a cabin on a six-acre property of spruce and birch, they did so, conscious of the fact, that one day they would have to rise to the occasion to help their fellow human beings. With that in mind, they made sure to include a big basement to store food, and other important commodities. They weaned themselves of doctors, of health insurances, and of conventional medicines, relying solely on nutritious food and healthy habits. Even the birthing of their four children took place at home. “Only a post-apocalyptic scenario can force us out of the greed of the Capitalist model,” the Browns believe. They got a water well dug on the property, as not to rely on the chlorinated water from the local municipality, and even tried to make, like many others before them, a working model of Nikola Tesla’s perpetual motion machine to generate electricity without having to depend on outside resources.

The Browns’ basement is rife with sacks and sacks of rice, wheat flour, millet, quinoa, buckwheat, and dry fruits: all waiting to be used. “We can feed the whole neighbourhood for at least two years, if need be,” the Browns admit candidly.

Joe Fez, living on the other side of the continent, subscribes to a similar mindset. Growing up on movies, such as Contagion, The Road, Retreat, and Jerico-like serials, Fez found himself more and more attracted towards the idea of self-reliance, which he now advocates as the basis for a sustainable community life. Armed with a natural green thumb, he has not only been busy growing and harvesting vegetables through the long summer days, but also canning and freezing them for the bumpy ride he accepts in the foreseeable future. To him, owning a piece of land to grow things is the first step towards self-sufficiency he aspires for. Just as important, is obtaining a gun license, by which, if he is fortunate enough, he can bring home fresh meat to eat, bag and freeze. Yet another step in the right direction. Now, equipped with medical know-how, from years of working as a dedicated EMT, and an attic filled with grains, pulses, flour, and all kinds of basic necessities, Fez is confident that if the going gets tough, he is in a position to look after himself, his family, friends and neighbours.

Both, the Browns and Fez, share a vision which revolves around a starkly different envisagement of the future. And, undoubtedly, it stems from the apparent untenability of the existing paradigm, driven solely by a market economy. However, while the Browns aspire for a change in the human consciousness to usher in the divine light and supreme love,  for Joe, a change implies total social and economic restructuring, by returning to the very basics.

As for the environmentalists worldwide, and for the Gretas and Licypriyas,  the writing has been on the wall: If we don’t act now, if we keep pillaging our natural resources mindlessly, we are digging our own grave. Despite the coverage Greta’s campaign, and Licypriya's speech in London received, their words, like several other environmentalists before them, remained confined to reports, documentaries, and a collection of glaring data, all pointing to the countdown.

But then came Covid-19. Making a quiet backdoor entry through China, it soon took the centre stage, rampaging through countries, ravaging lives, creating fear, shutting down life as we know it in the 21^st century. It imposed the pause upon us, the pause that Mother Earth had quietly been praying for. A satellite map of Wuhan before and post Covid-19 illustrates the resilient and at the same time, healing quality of Nature, as a cloud of heavy pollution slowly lifts to give way to clearer skies and cleaner air. And lo, suddenly, the loopholes within our stereotyped, automated system  are in plain view. We have no criterion whereby to assess the challenges of such a pandemic, but we do know that our best response would depend on global empathy, cooperation, and community building.

We can no longer sustain a lifestyle which cruises on a conveyor belt regularity, and a  system which doesn’t give time to pause, to question, to re-orient, re-think, re-direct...for, it wants stability, not revolutions. Its goal is economic prosperity, not the freedom of the human spirit. As one Swiss economist confided, "it is no longer a question of keeping the economy afloat...but, a matter of keeping our humanism alive."

Toilet paper blues

As the frenzy over stockpiling toilet paper rolls takes over the 'civilised' world, once again do the people across the globe, look towards  jagatguru India for answers; India, the preserver of traditions, truth, and ancient wisdom. 

Meet Chloe, an avid traveler from Melbourne, who, along with her hippie parents and brother spent a chunk of her childhood in Tamil Nadu. Here, besides learning about several local customs, and ways of doing things,  she also mastered the art of cleaning oneself  without the western sine qua non commodity, we know as toilet paper. And now, in this crucial and strange times of Corvid-19, after having witnessed two women clashing over the last packet of toilet rolls in the supermarket, Chloe took it upon herself to educate people of the 'Indian Way'. She seems to be on a crusade, going around, teaching friends and family members on how a mugful of water can resolve the increasing shortage of toilet paper in the supermarkets. Interestingly, her brother, residing on the other side of the globe, in the northeast of the U.S., is doing the same. 

I am certain the legendary Dr Oz of Fox channel, too must see the drive to dispense with toilet paper as a blessing in disguise. For many years ago, on his The Dr Oz's Show, I remember him advocating the use of water over tissues to his hamerrhoid patients.

Did you know, our global toilet paper production consumes 27,000 trees daily? As a self-proclaimed environmentalist, I can only hope that by the time we are done with the twists and turns of Corvid-19,  the mug-and-water  solution would have gained a universal acceptance, saving therefore millions of acres of forest cover from getting flushed down the toilet bowl.

Thread and Needle Dynamics

Life will hand us the invisible thread that connects us all; love will hand us the needle.

"I think the pre-dawn call of the muezzin leading the faithfuls into prayer, is a sheer act of terrorism. It inflicts a sense of injustice upon those asleep," says an angered B.K. Sharma, who, by the same token, also believes that all the Shaheen Bagh protesters too were party to an act of terrorism, by  disrupting the life of the common man for seventy whole days. "They should have been dealt with earlier," Sharma adds emphatically. Yet, he doesn't see it as the failure of the administration, of the police, or of the ruling party, who were in a position to bring a peaceful end to the prolonged protests by simply lending  an attentive ear to the fears of the protesters, and disspelling any unfounded misconceptions they might have harboured vis-à-vis the recently introduced Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA).

Sharma is an educated man by all account, who happens to be a devout Hindu, convinced that if strict actions are not taken now, India would soon  transmogrify into an Islamic nation. 

Sharma's driver Rehman Malik prays,  facing the Mecca a few times a day. On long distance drives, while his master sleeps, he is subjected to an endless volley of Anup Jalota's devotional songs. "Is it a conspiracy to convert me into a Hindu?" He asks himself, and at times, his wife, Tabassum. Tabassum runs a  successful clothes and tailoring business in the old part of the city, and has little time for such silly questions. Yet, once a week, Malik, his wife, and two sons used to attend an anti-CAA protest in their locality. "We have to fight for our rights," Malik staunchly believes.  

When Malik coughs violently, Sharma produces a pack of Robitussin caplets and asks him to take it twice, after food, adding, "you really need to quit smoking". Malik smiles shyly. 

"When should we go to the Pir Baba's Durgah to pray for a handsome husband for our bitiya rani?"  asks Malik, remembering the  time Sharma had accompanied him to the holy shrine. It was at a point when his new business venture was at its lowest, with no glimmer of hope in sight. The visit had proved auspicious, turning the tide in Sharma's favour, and reinforcing his faith in the glory of Pir Baba.   

Santavati, the house help at the Sharmas, can't get enough of Malik. While he waits by the car, she pretends to water the garden, striking up an inane conversation  to justify being around him. Knowing Santavati's love for lamb biryani, Malik brings her some, whenever his wife cooks it on special occasions. Santavati is the youngest amongst her ten siblings, and therefore most pampered. She wallows in the realisation that Malik too seems to know her preferences, and blushes to herself. 

  

The Sharmas, the Maliks, and Santavati all voted for BJP in the national elections. The Sharmas, because of the party's emphasis on economic growth and its Hindutva edge, the Maliks, because they were offered three thousand rupees each to do so, and Santavati? "Why did you vote for BJP?" I ask her. "Because Sahib (implying, Mr Sharma), asked me to do so."

In a country like ours, where cast, religion, and the economic status of people are so intricately intermingled and interdependent, it is not uncommon to find emotions such as despise give way to pietistic pity, loathing to love, violence to benevolence,  and... communal riots to unspoken brotherhood. For, ours is a country, where centuries of tolerance, compassion, and understanding has woven a warp and weft of the social fabric, which cannot be lacerated by hate speeches and staged violence of political carpetbaggers.