Another Day with You

I have fallen for you, fallen completely, irrevocably.
I want to hold you close to my bosom for there is a
bubble there which cavitates every time you smile
and fall asleep while gently sweating under the sweltering madras moon,
while listening to your breath upon my lips,
while my nose presses against your cheeks,
while I look at your eyelids as they languorously shut and open
While we speak of nothing and everything, of your dreams, and of mine
of your mornings and evenings, and of your afternoon battles against chilly friends
of your gajja gajja and tan tan, while I karkara your chunchuru, or while we read a book together
and hope with the salty monsoon breeze that is our love,
for another day with you

When I refused to look away

An involuntary shiver convulsed my body

My body felt violated, my mind felt violated

I could still feel the fingers latching on to my skin

I could feel the pain pulsing down my back

where the lathis had broken skin crimson and blue

For I had dared to stand up, and hold my head up

For I had spoken words that the Emperor disdained

they were true, they were powerful, they were free

The soldiers ran their cold hands along my skin

I felt every touch in every pore, my hair stood on end

They gagged my mouth and shone searing light at me

They laughed at my thoughts, they were strange to them

They called me names that were reserved for the poorest

Names that were for the landless, the homeless, the outcastes

Names for ones who had lost their lives while still alive

Names for ones whose dignity had been solicited away

I look back into their narrowed eyes, I am hit and hit again

I look back into their furrowed brows with sweat dripping off
And I see just another human, anxious to please their master
I see just another human, bigoted and tribalistic, but a mother
or a father, or a friend or a lover, just another human

The Black Hole

Where is the bottom in this hole black?

Do we plumb its depth before we fill it with chaff?

Do we climb laboriously down while furiously fighting against gravity?

Do we pour our grief into it and flood away the stench with our tears?

I am kicking and scratching as I am led to its precipice, everyday

I hear the cries of the millions inside, some piteous, others angry

I see the young men above shove lead and strangle the angry ones

with muscles of aspiration and veins popping with patriotism

I see the older men above spit promises into the pit, a few throw down opiates

The pit lies like a blister within the airconditioned plastic garden

With plastic azaleas blooming upon wax branches and neon lights

that simulate the sun that lies occluded behind mushrooms of cloudy dust

A walk down to the beach

I walked clutching my mother's hands
It felt slippery with sweat, she held my little brother over her hip
The sea breeze whispered through the banyan trees
And blew sticky salty air into my face

The hot midday sun made my shirt stick to my back
I had to half walk and half run to keep up with my mother
She had tears in her fiery eyes, furrowed brows and a steely face
The cathedral's spires could be seen, like a child's perspective drawing
against the backdrop of the Bay of Bengal, with the waves powerfully crashing,
crashing into the hot sands, the heat blew a wavy mirage over the scattered shells. My mother half dragged half lifted me as she rushed on towards the sea. The sea was her last refuge, she had snapped, like a dried twig in a blazing flame. The spires grew ever larger, the arch in the middle of the beach grew larger too, but they seemed smaller and smaller as the waves got bigger. There was not a cloud to be seen, yet the breeze grew into a stormy gust, the air did not smell of fish anymore, it was only fear and salt. The fishing boats were landed far up the shore, the storm was coming.

I did not know if I was ready to die. I was only doing as my mother told me to, just following her. The solid spires danced in the heat of the mirage. The salty spray misted them. I wished I could go in for a cool drink of water before my salty grave claimed me. I tried asking my mother, shouting out to her, but she was muttering a string of words, that sounded like the patter of angry rain on a tin roof. I could not understand her words, but they were the words of a woman whose mind was made up, her bruised swollen lips were beautiful with a few drops of deep red showing against the bluish black.

The clouds raced in, like a river in spate breaking open the floodgates. The sun was occluded and a few cool drops whipped about in the whimsy wind. The drops grew larger and the wind blew stronger. The spires disappeared, the arch was a mere silhouette, the trees swayed dangerously, the leafy sussurations replaced with the wooden creaks of timber straining against the sheer force of a cyclone, heralding its arrival like a million tiny drummers. The grains of sand and dust mixed with the cold angry drops were whipped into my face and my arms and dripped off my frock that ballooned behind me as I walked against the wind. My mother paid no heed to my brother's piteous cries, they were drowned by the crash and roar of the waves.

We trudged on through the sandy beach, when the enormity of the waves became the only vision possible, it dominated our horizon, it filled our minds with what the future held. The sheer force of nature on display here was mind numbing. The cold wind that pitted our faces with lashes of water and sand slowed our pace. My mother's muttering ceased completely as her eyes widened with terror at the spectacle that filled the sea. The enormous waves were all that one could see as far as the horizon. A pale voice called out to us, like a misty wraith in the distance. The figure hurried towards us, in a last desperate attempt to make amends. My mother plunged her head into his bosom, weeping uncontrollably, the tremors of her body passed lightly through her hand that still gripped mine tightly.

Defiance with Love

We sang of love when music was dying under the fervent
We whirled to the music when dance was decreed vulgar
We made love in bold friezes when murals were sterilized
We drank from ponds of soma when spirits were evaporating
We upwelled from the burning soil when the boots trampled
We held onto memories of lovers when emotions were crushed
We bled into the barren streets when passion was banished
We flamed with our young bodies when the embers were doused
We lived in defiance when our humanity was denigrated
We stampeded into public squares under the curfewed moonlight

The years age into eras and monarchies grow and die
Nations spring up rifting across peoples of the earth
But nations do not outlive the embers of our love
For our love is fuelled by a thirst for a warm embrace
We burn our selves to feed the flames of passion
We shall live long beyond the stars above our heads
We shall paint the black night with our kisses red
We shall unfurl our dead selves across the infinite void
And kiss and love and sing and dance and laugh without a fear

In Bed Together

These lands were never yours- said the man in white
This soil is ours to give and ours to take
Haven't you heard of eminent domain?

This soil that I love breaths through wet pores
The land that I toil upon is red and fertile
I am the tiller who feeds you, mercy, I implore!

The bodies of our mothers and fathers have enriched these lands
This soil is the nourisher that is for our children to care
Do not blast this mountain, our Lord and the source of nature's bounty

Your voice is feeble and weak, limbs too frail
Do not stand in our way, we are here to civilise you
The land must be taken, else we shall have no development

Fair compense shall be made, the nation values the gritty farmer
You shall find jobs in the factories, you will be developed
Your children shall go to schools and learn the wonders of the world

Crush these halfclothed beggars if they refuse to budge
When it trickles down, they shall kiss my portraits
I live to serve these very multitudes, I feel betrayed, dismayed!

Do not hold back your blows my men said the man in brown
They are savages and brutes of the scrubs and forests
We shall educate them in the subtle art of civilisation

These mountains hold the wealth that I seek said the man in black
We shall denude them into red dust that shall build great cities
The forest shall be stripped for we must have development

Their job done, white and black met under a grey sun
We have thrown the savages into our slums
We have turned the red mountain into lumps of gold

We have oozed black sludge into the blue rivers and seas
We have burnt the forests down to the roots
They smiled in pride as the strange bedfellows lay kissing

The Sarangi's Wail

I was your brother

were we not brothers just yesterday?
did we not sip adrak chai at the break of a chilly dawn?
was it not me who paid your share too for the akhbar?

did you not confess your love for my sister just the other day?
was it so long ago that we sat together for a meal,
with the two of you exchanging covert covetous glances?

we were ten when your mother caressed my hair and kissed my forehead,
her eyes dark pools of compassion just as when she would look at her own
was it not she who taught me to sing khayal upon the rich tapestry of her sarangi?

you seem not yourself in these bloodsoaked clothes and enraged face
wielding bloodied instruments of hatred and incendiary words and deeds
you look at me through a new reckoning of distorted history and newfound anger

you escort me to the ravaged street where the noose of a burning rubber tyre awaits
I am too numb to protest, for the love in your eyes is replaced with a perverse lust
was it not yesterday that the raand you now wish to fuck was your mehbooba?


I was your lover

your coming was always like that of the first monsoon breeze of the season
was it not just last night that we had loved and lay exhausted in embrace?
did you not kiss the pearls of sweat on my breast and sigh everlasting love?

your mother gave me a richly embroidered chador the moment she heard of our love
your father was reluctant at first, only to be moved by your mother's love for me
my brother had been overjoyed, his voice seemed richer than the sarangi that evening

you who dignified my sense of self with a love that did not wish to possess me
you who were to be the father of my children and a companion by my side
how is it that your knuckles rap on my door this ugly night, each knock sounding a death knell?

what did it take for your love to be replaced by this hate and disgust?
because your God-man told you that I am a whoring seductress wishing to conquer you?
does your God fear me so much that he sent you to rape me tonight and burn down my house?


I am a sarangi

I wail tonight until my strings strain against their restraints!
tonight is not a night for music, but that is all I know
my wood resonates until each grain wishes to splinter the cries of maddened men

was it not just yesterday that we had all enjoyed a playful jugalbandi?
My mistress lies shivering in the dark corner, every breath an icy wish for death
did not the familiar voice that she had lovingly trained cry out at an unfamiliar pitch?

are these the same humans who created such music as would bring a piece of wood alive?
are these the same humans who were moved by my stirring melodies and sighed at every pause?
will the same bloodied hands pick up the tampura tomorrow, guttural staccato suddenly lyrical melody?

Do not ebb away your floods

To you my dear, I shed a few tears
for in my selfish needs, I did not care
as the river mindlessly pours into the ocean
I sluiced out my overpowering venomous bodings
assuming the ocean to be capable of sustaining itself
I had not foreseen that a river could grow into an Amazon

Henceforth my Dear, do not ebb away your floods
For I shall sustain you and nourish you with tender care
I may never match the proportions of your compassionate soul
but my sluice gates have grown strong, my basins do not erode
my forests have greened once more

I shall embrace you with love
The love that I can give, though you deserve much more

The promise of better days

The flowers will fade to stone and the hills will choke the rivers

we will swim in the sludge and paddle to keep our heads above

Our eyes scanning the skies for a sight of the stars beyond the smog

The people in boats still dream of children and music but avert their eyes

from the bobbing heads in the lonely seas that have turned their guts out

The fish have gone and so have the dolphins, only the barnacles cling on

The guardians were asleep when their need was the most

may I smile, I wonder, at this cruel twist of fate

for we were promised better and we aspired for much that wasn't

It was not at the end of the street, so we built it further; we were told

the road would end at the oasis of cool darkness and warm moonlight

and so we built it with our bleached bones and the fossils of dinosaurs

Breath

He broke the icy surface and drew a breath with a gasp

Treading water, battling the weight of his linen

The dying kelp grasped at his feet as the waves rocked him

His fingers too numb to feel as his hands thrashed at the surface

When the wind blew too hard and the waves thrashed into him

He would submerge into the icy cool darkness below and dream

Dream of a life with a little more warmth and love

Dream of a life with a little less need for profundity

And then, he would stop struggling and drift with the currents

But as his breath threatened to run out, his muscles convulsed

And his body involuntarily thrashed towards the surface

Breaking it once more to draw another breath with a gasp

A battle for a myth, A battle for a new history

The icy wind blew in from the west as I glided over the foothills

The plains stretched out before me as far as the horizon

The setting sun coloured it pink, the skies wore a reddish tint

A long train of people bearing torches climbed up the hills in a hurry

They wore ochre and held up pennants of yellow and orange

The village they passed through was deathly silent, save for a barking dog

The paddy was golden and ready for harvest, it swayed in the wind

The fields were soon obscured by the rising smoke, they had set it afire

As the sun set, the raging fires lit the landscape and the shadows danced

The ancient stones that were piled up into a dome had green algae over them

The minaret rose into a spindly top which wavered as the hot air shimmered

Their pickaxes and hammers rained down the bricks and stones into rubble

Their work done, they rejoiced with bloodcurdling cries, their rage unslaked,

They rushed down the hill into the silent village now lit by the lush moonlight

Soon the air froze with the moans of women wrenched out of their houses

The forest grew rigid with the icy frost sending a spike into the heart of nature

The blood of the menfolk flowed down the cobbled streets, the children scurried

and slipped on the red stream as they fled away into the Deodar forests

The morning after saw the birds chirping sweetly once again

The Deodars swayed gently in the breeze that blew in from the west

The children emerged from the depths of shadows, too numb to speak or cry

My Love died last night

Why do you cry little one? There is no one here who will hear you.

Your gasps and tears are wasted, your cries will break against deaf ears.

Where is the mother who sang you to sleep while you snuggled in her bosom

The bosom that enveloped you with a sweet whiff of the milk

Is it her that you seek out now while you cry out wildly?

How do I explain to you that she is dead while you hold on so tightly to life?

She had to die, for she spoke a language that is banned, is now deemed evil

Because she wore her sari differently, because she cooked her food differently

Because, the songs that she thought were beautiful, are now deemed obscene

Because the dance that unleashed her spirits is now to be purged as it is vulgar

Because, ideas change in time, but the young foot soldiers think they are permanent

They are willing to live and die by the words of their chosen masters

They held you by one of your hands, and they debated if they should kill you too

I tried to stop them, but they beat me senseless, and ran away when they heard the sirens

We must pick up the pieces now my sweet baby, and we shall trudge ahead

But do not ask me to give you love, for my love died last night

The Other's model of life

The following was an email that I typed out after a friend told me to try out typing something in one go without pausing to think too much or worry about the formatting. So, I just typed and hit send.

The world is a fucking absurd place. Absurd not in the sense that I expected it to be ordered and it surprises me that it is random. But that would be a lie, because, I probably subconsciously expect it to conform to some model that I have in my head for the world. When there are conflicts with this model, it suddenly seems like the world is bewildering or confusing.

Why do people need psychological crutches? Is it because we are social creatures that we need to reach out to other people for support? What about people who are perfectly fine with a divine crutch? Does the divine crutch somehow make them less in need of a social support group? How do we end up with these expectations?

Children are shown a fantasy future. They are told that they can make it in life if only they were to complete certain milestones. If they get through school with good grades, they can get into a professional course in some college. If they make good grades there, they can get a well paying job. If they just grit their teeth between 9-5 they can make a good pay and also earn the annual bonus and promotions. They can then be able to buy a house, a car and get married and settle down. They can have children, preferably two. Their children should then be sent to the best schools in the city so that the cycle can perpetuate forever and ever more.

Why?

Who created this fantasy? This model of a perfect life? If our lives were to conform to this model very closely, does that ensure fulfillment? What is fulfillment itself? To be fulfilled, we should be capable of having desires, our own desires, or driving or motive force. The universe is an absurd place, it has no apparent reason for existing. But we always create our purposes. We awake in the morning everyday with a purpose in mind. A raison d'etre . We are purpose creating machines. But most of us are living lives in the pursuit of an ideal, an ideal that is the perfect model from the gaze of the Other, but how the hell are we going to reconcile that with our own desires? To be fulfilled means that we have certain desires of our own. And these desires are necessarily individual and unique. If not, then the ideal model would work for everyone. These individual and unique desires are the ones that make people suddenly quit a high paying job mid career and go off to hitch hike around the world. These are the desires and motive forces that should be encourages within us. These are the passions and ideas or models for our own existence that must be stoked and stoked until the embers are raging fires within us.

Okay, that was rather dramatic. Maybe, we don't need to stoke them into raging fires, but even small embers burn long and give lasting comfort over a long period of time. When we deny the existence of our own desires, we are trying to live our lives for the fulfillment of the Other's model of existence. But the Other does not even exist outside of us! The Other's model is just what we perceive it to be. Different cultures and societies may have different ideal models to live by. The same society may have multiple ideal models to live by. And the model that we choose to fulfill just happens to be our perception of what the ideal model of the Other is. Why go to such huge efforts to fulfill a fantasy that we ourselves create to delude ourselves into thinking that our own desires do not matter?

Critically thinking about something as fundamental as the philosophy or the model by which we live our lives is something that everyone should do often. We probably do do it quite often. I'm sure that most people do think about how their actions or decisions may be viewed by others. The "conscience" is an attempt to view ourselves from outside us, to judge our actions in the context of its effect on others and ourselves. But we take important decisions in our lives with too much weightage being given to the ideal model and too little being given to our own desires or passions. If we consider doing something that would fulfill ourselves and if that something is far from the ideal model, then we immediately dismiss the thought as crazy! As something only fringe elements in society do, the weirdos who throw away all their possessions and go mountain climbing and hitch hiking.

But the cranks have been the ones to give spark to life and society. The cranks have been the ones to make life worth living. Imagine a society with everyone living their lives earnestly attempting to conform to the ideal model. Everyone doing exactly what they should. Where does that leave us with the individual? Where does that leave us with free will? Do people exercise their "free will" to the extent that they are capable of? What if everyone decided to suddenly do so, and do all the crazy things that they have always deeply desired? What would happen to society? Would we be left with utter chaos and anarchy? Is this why we have been naturally selected to maintain an evolutionarily stable ratio of cranks to the conforming people? When viewed in that sense, then cranks are just the lucky few genes which happened to exist because of a happy accident that their fraction of existence is supported by natural selection. Shouldn't cranks then stop giving out clarion calls to the world to stop being blind followers or conformists? Because cranks themselves only exist because the other fraction of conformists also exist, they balance and maintain the equilibrium. Cranks and geniuses should then be thankful of their happy accident of birth. They should then be uninhibitedly crazy. They should without any guilt pursue their dreams and passions and not worry about whether they are contributing to society in a productive way. They should go about their lives without any qualms, simply be as quirky as their happy circumstances (I say circumstances because its obviously not just genes that make you a crank or genius) made them.

Fruits of Hate and Love

We trek the path littered with corpses of our past and present. We tread gingerly around the bleeding flesh, we hold our breath for the putrefying odour overpowers us.

We yearn for the poetry of our childhood, which turned to ashes in our mouth in our youth. We look to the distant stars of the dark night and hope that our tears would dry up before we are bled of all our love.

The tune that our bodies once swung to in bliss has faded from Music. Our limbs feel the searing heat and fall with tiring regularity on the sodden soil. The soil which died when the blossoms faded.

With knowing eyes we survey our fellow travellers and wonder if there is any love at all in the world we once thought we knew. We wonder at the futility of the next step, but the feet walk on.

We look at the corpses hanging with the mangoes and ask if we are more alive than them. Young women they once were, now they have putrefied in the summer heat, and mingle with the odour of the mangoes.

Mother, don't stop singing your lullaby, not today, for your daughters cannot smile without danger. Don't stop, the tears are not yet full of steaming anger.

The fog is too thick to see past the corpses littering our path. Yet, there is hope and a dream, a snatch of a song carried back to us from the people who will learn to dance without a bloodthirst in an orchard with fruits of our love hanging ripe upon the trees.

The Spring on my Lab Door

The door has a spring attached, it closes automatically. It is the door to my lab. I sit there at my desk for hours at a time worrying about the smallest intricate part of the software code that I use. The software code that brings the oceans of the earth alive inside my computer.

But its not the oceans that I'm usually thinking about, its mostly something trivial, like a forgotten semicolon in one of the lines of code. I spend entire days and weeks sitting there silently, the only conversations that I have are, "Oh! I think it would work better if you changed this constant...", or, "Why isn't this code compiling?!".

But the door! Sometimes, it closes gently with a click, and other times, it bangs shut with a loud thud, the vibrations jar my desk and my ears. I kept wondering what made the spring behave differently.

The door intrigued me as much as my non-compiling code! I started having conversations with the spring while thinking out aloud, "Why are you so erratic? Or is there some pattern here that I'm missing?"

Sometimes, I feel its better to think about the smaller details, otherwise, the enormity of the problems would simply overwhelm you.

Its funny how while walking along the beach at night, I was thinking about the infinitesimal grains of sand and how much more infinitesimal we ourselves are when you look up at the skies above with the millions of stars. And at the same time, we aren't as insignificant as we think we are, after all, we are capable of contemplating the infinite.

Just like how the viscous fluid inside the spring mechanism of the door helps to damp it because of the intermolecular forces. Take that away, and there's a bang!

This was written today at a "Performance Poetry" workshop. You can find amazing videos of performances in YouTube. Search for these artists: Kattie Makkai, Andrea Gibson, Taylor Mali, Phil Kaye, Sarah Kay, Rives, Shane Koyczan.

Infinite Space

Sylvia Plath (source: Wikimedia)

The piece was inspired by a line in a poem by Sylvia Plath.

It was like a marriage that was never meant to be, but had to be. Like two spiraling arms of a cyclone, we plunged headlong into each other, we were wedlocked into a tight embrace, fondling while we loved and ravaging each other while we hated.

Neither knew what would be, we experienced the present without prescience. Though I am much older than Life, I couldn't claim to be much wiser. I could claim as much credit for the Sylvan landscape, as the leaf could for the incredible chloroplast.

The early stirrings were indiscernible. My ancient oceans were a soup, with the ingredients that had been forged in the belly of the stars. My only company was the sun, the moon and the occasional asteroid. The distant stars with their cold light creeping across the infinite spaces were but a reminder of my infinitesimal existence.

The ages, I silently observed, at first without concern or care for the precious phenomenon upon my bosom. Life suckled at my ample teats, the Sun fertilised me with a continuous stream of radiant heat. I came to love that which could care no more for me than those distant stars. It was a love like none other, primal, unforgiving, merciless, brutal and nourishing.

Out of the oceans crawled out the crabs, soon on slithering spines did Life's tentacles spread across my lands. Lush forests festooned my rainfed belt, the sparse mountains blossomed into multitudinous colours. Life grew in complexity, the ages swept by, leaving an assortment of species, one stranger than the other, one more ingenious than the other. Every niche, thinkable and unthinkable soon became occupied, only to be wiped out by my calamitous nature, only to respawn and crawl back, in a new form, a varied garb, a stranger ecosystem that one couldn't have dreamed of in their wildest delusions.

My brethren remained sterile, their vast expanses lay bare and exposed to the infinite spaces above. My soil was covered by the canopies, my mantle became fluid and flowed, the tiniest bacteria began causing tectonic shifts. My atmosphere changed, my climate changed. My soils changed, so did my rivers, oceans and lakes. Everywhere, life held on with a tighter grip than before.

I iced over once, with the frosty fingers reaching into my tropics. The very oceans turned into an icy slush, I almost suffocated Life. But Life held on with much more vigour than I had anticipated, biding its time for a favourable sunrise.

Over the ages, Life became aware enough of me, only to ravage me, and to become aware of my own assaults, some retaliatory, and some unprovoked.

Humans emerged on the horizon, building civilizations a fortnight after they climbed down from their trees. The cities grew hungrier and thirstier. The rivers were all diverted into them, and they emerged black and full of stink, with a sludge that could not support the very Life that I had nourished for ages in my harsh lap. The wheat and barley grass grew were once great forests stood, now uprooted and gutted. The noble whales were hunted without mercy. The long dead forms of Life were dredged up, their ghosts filled the air with noxious fumes and trapped the sun's heat. The Humans went on heedless, with disregard for the rest of Life and for their nourishing partner.

Their follies compounded and destroyed their own numbers. Their poor died first, and their rich died too. Out of the ashes emerged an enlightened biped, with an awareness unsurpassed. With locks of hair flaming red, their consciousness could contemplate the mysteries of the universe. One no more felt small and lonely while surveying the infinite spaces, the twinkling stars, now seemed to beckon. I go forth now with my child, my lover, my paramour. Each indistinguishable from the other. Out of the ashes, I rise, like a volcano, exploding the red entrails into the skies, and I eat the parsecs like air.

A story of how bacteria moved continents!

  [This post first appeared here: http://renewsiitm.wordpress.com/2014/02/28/biogeochemistry-a-story-of-how-bacteria-moved-continents/]

A group, led by the planetary scientist Tilman Spohn at the German Aerospace Center's Institute of Planetary Research in Berlin, has suggested that biological activity has strongly influenced the formation of continents.

Models suggest that without life, continents would cover only about 5% of the Earth's surface as against the nearly 30% that we see today!

The significance of biological activity on the atmosphere has long been established. The “Great Oxygenation Event” (GOE) that occurred about 2,400 million years ago increased the proportion of free oxygen in the atmosphere from that of a trace gas to the abundant levels that we see today. Ancient cyanobacteria photosynthesized and released oxygen into the oceans and atmosphere. During the early stages, the free oxygen oxidised iron and other minerals which got deposited in the crust from where we extract them now for our industrial purposes. The oxygen also reacted with atmospheric methane, a greenhouse gas, reducing its concentration. This probably triggered the Huronian glaciation which lasted for 300 million years and the evidence suggests that this was the first of the Snowball Earths.

[Source: Wikimedia (used under CC licence)]

Snowball Earth is the name given to periods in the Earth's history when it is posited that glaciers extended into the tropics and the entire surface was covered in ice. The oceans were probably iced over or were covered in slush with the possibility of a narrow open band of water near the equator. This theory gains credence from the evidence of glaciers that had formed in the tropical zones.

While dealing with geological time scales, it is not easy for us to comprehend the true magnitudes of the numbers that are cited. For instance, the earliest members of the genus Homo evolved around 2.3 million years ago and the earliest fossils of anatomically modern day humans have been dated to around 200,000 years ago. All of modern civilization with settled agriculture and animal husbandry is just 13,000 years old. It is with this context that we can begin to understand the enormous time scales that are part and parcel of geosciences.

If we were to draw the time scale of the planet on a 100m long line, we would find the first instances of lifeforms after the first 23m. The GOE occurred somewhere around 47m, and the Huronian glaciation lasted for another 6.5m. The early Homo species emerged at the 99.949m mark and the entire history of modern civilization has lasted for 0.3mm.

Whether the cyanobacteria caused the Huronian glaciation or not, they definitely had a significant impact on the atmpospheric composition and the global climate. Biological activity is tightly coupled with geochemical processes and have a significant bearing on the global climate. The field of biogeochemistry is an important contributor to modern day climate models and climate studies.

Cyanobacteria (Source: Wikimedia)

Spohn, the author of the study, in an interview (http://phys.org/news/2014-01-planet-life-continents.html) explained their hypothesis that life had a significant role to play in the formation of the continental landmasses. The bacterial action increases the rate of erosion of rocks. So much so that without life, erosion rates would be only 60% or less than what it is. These eroded sediments contain nearly 40% (by weight) water. These are carried into the oceans by the rivers and winds. These hydrous sediment on the ocean beds move towards the subduction zones where they are driven deep into the mantle. If not for the hydrous sediment, such large quantities of water could not have entered these higher density areas of the earth's innards. The high pressure and temperatures of the mantle releases the water. Water being a polar molecule, reduces the bond strength of the minerals in the rocks and lowers their melting temperatures.

The presence of water in the mantle increases the tectonic and volcanic activity and the formation of new landmasses.

Mount Rinjak eruption, 1994, Lombok, Indonesia (Source: Wikimedia)

Doughty et al., 2013, ^[2] have shown, through a mathematical model, that the megafauna of the Amazon forests were primarily responsible for the homogeneous spatial distribution of essential nutrients. Megafauna are animals that are larger than 40 kg in body weight. The herbivore megafauna acted as a nutrient pump. The animals consume large quantities of plant matter. Their excretions in the form of faeces and urine would be spatially distributed, the extent of which would depend on the size and physiology of the animal. Their excretions being rich in nutrients such as phosphates would go on to nourish more vegetation. This plant matter would further be consumed and excreted by other animals and through this step by step process, homogeneous spatial distribution of nutrients was achieved.

Even 30,000 years after the extinction of the pleistocene megafauna, we still find some amount of homogeneity in the nutrient distribution, however, this is fast reducing on most continents and the authors raise serious questions regarding the effect of this heterogeneity on the biogeochemistry of the planet.

It is another well known fact that whales, by feeding at depths and excreting closer to the surface, act as giant nutrient pumps which sustain the marine biota dependent on phytoplankton and algae near the surface. The phytoplankton are responsible for the fixation of nearly 40 Gigatons of carbon every year ^[3]. Any disruption to this sensitive ecosystem with each player playing an important role could have profound impacts on the climate on geological time scales.

It may be a mind boggling concept for those that are unfamiliar with biogeochemistry, but it is true that biological activity has had a very significant effect on the earth's climate, topography and geological activity. It is with this heightened awareness of the global ecosystem that we must approach public policy and planning. Economic growth at the cost of the destruction of the environment would mean nothing.

References:

[1] Tilman Spohn interview, phys.org, (http://phys.org/news/2014-01-planet-life-continents.html)

[2] Christopher E Doughty et al., 2013, “The legacy of the Pleistocene megafauna extinctions on nutrient availability in Amazonia”, Nature Geoscience, Issue 6, pp. 761-764

[3] Paul G Falkowski et al., 1998, “Biogeochemical controls and feedback on ocean primary production”, Science, Vol. 281, no 5374, pp. 200-206

LET THE WOMAN BLOOM

Watching the explosion of public sentiment after the horrendous incident in Delhi last week where a girl was brutally assaulted, I am beginning to fear that we are all missing the woods for the trees.

Everyone was clamouring for the capital punishment to be meted out to the accused. It was argued that this would set a precedent and would act as a deterrent. Everyone was understandably shaken, especially those with daughters.

The constant media attention on this particular case also brought out florid statements from our parliamentarians. While the Delhi government chose to blame the police, the media kept pointing out the excessive deployment of police personnel for VIP security and how this left our police forces understaffed. The “common public” interviewed on these channels blamed both.

While I share the revulsion at the disgusting and horrifying crime that has been committed, I am also left feeling a little underwhelmed. Listening to the response of the people on our popular media leaves me feeling like I have heard it all before and nothing has changed.

While some may say I am being cynical, I simply want to advise caution to everyone. Stop! Look out! We are falling into the familiar trap of missing the woods for the trees! While arguing over small details, we fail to recognize that the roots of such crimes are within each of our homes. Each one of us is guilty in a small way and must hold ourselves culpable. There are plenty of cases of domestic violence and abuse in each of our families, how many of us have had the courage to report our own uncles and stand in the dock against them? The women in such abusive relationships grit their teeth and bear it out, for they have nowhere else to turn to. Their parents would be unwilling to take them back due to the social stigma attached to a separated woman. They are unable to provide for themselves because their education was compromised, as their parents thought that the ‘place’ for a woman is by her husband’s side. How many of us raise our daughters to be strong independent individuals?

How many of us encourage and give our daughters equal opportunities to shine in life? Do we give them equal nourishment, healthcare and education? Do we nurture their dreams and aspirations to the same extent as that of our boys?

Simple things that seem innocuous to us are only the manifestations of this unfair social system. We have simply grown too comfortable with the system to recognize its warts. A husband walks into the house after work, kicks off his shoes and calls out to his wife for a cup of tea or coffee. The husband behaves as the lord at home and expects the women in his household to meekly submit to his every whim. We expect our wives to sacrifice their careers and aspirations. Major financial decisions of the family are taken without consulting the women. How then can we expect women to be consulted when it comes to running and governing the country?

The skewed sex ratio is a perfect example of the extent to which women have been mistreated. Families with girl children see them as a liability.

The malaise in our society runs deep and wide. The four boys are not the only culprits in this horrid incident. The collective inertia of all the social mores of our patriarchal society has snowballed over the years to ensure that the Men remain in control of property, progeny, home, and country.

It is easy for the politicians to hold the police guilty, for the media to hold the politicians guilty and for all the youth marching out to India Gate to hold the media, the politicians and the police guilty. Everyone is pointing fingers at just about everyone else.

Things are not going to magically change overnight by hanging those four boys. It may act as a small deterrent, but it is not going to change the lives of all the women and girls in our country. For that, we must look within and realize that true change must begin from us - our families and our own mohallas and villages.

We must stop perpetuating the patriarchal system of ‘giving away’ our girls. Why must a woman sever ties with her family after marriage? Stop expecting dowries and report those who do to the authorities. Ensure that every girl is sent to school and make sure that we teach our young boys to share the workload of household chores. Let’s make sure that we teach our boys that leering is a disgusting habit, and let’s ensure that they are taught to respect women. Let’s hope that the media stops teaching our youth to objectify women and instead teaches them how to cherish women and make them feel cherished.

Let us pledge to ensure the financial empowerment of all our daughters and bring them into the leadership structure of our society, thereby striking a balance and introducing a more nuanced approach to many of society’s problems.

Let the Woman bloom to her full extent!

Valli

“Yes, the whole thing is indeed a farce! I must be dreaming! But, then again, the weight of the bundle in my arms feels very real. It feels warm, and it squirms too. I had thought of a name for it, but I cannot remember it now. Though, I do remember the emotions that the name had evoked when I had first thought of it. Warm, ebullience had filled my bosom. Not the kind of happiness that one feels for a moment and forgets the next. This was more like the warmth that the coal retains, sustains and emits for hours.

My mother in law had seemed to be a genial and warm lady. After my marriage, as is tradition, I moved into my husband’s home. This tradition is indeed changing in India, but as with the other changes in India, it is mostly confined to the middle classes and the richer populace. Not that I am complaining. There are certain distinct advantages to the joint family system. The emotional and physical support that members extend to prop up each other during times of duress is incomparable.

Only, there isn’t anyone that I could share my feelings with right now. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel any emotions. Or maybe, like the coals of happiness, the coals of deep sorrow are gradually tending towards their ignition point, after which I cannot bear to think of the weight that would build up in my bosom, replacing the weight of the bundle in my arms.

Most stories in our media today vilify the mothers in law. But in Hindi, we call them Saas, a word that closely resembles the Hindi word Saans, meaning breath. Probably because, they are meant to be the breath of life, infusing new joy in our lives, and indulging upon their sons or daughters in law lavishly.

My Saas had indeed been a breath of fresh air. She had been ecstatic when my husband had proudly proclaimed our pregnancy. She too had begun thinking of names. Ashok, Bharat, Raja, Dharmar, Eeshan, Murgesh… The list had been long. But none of those names matched the effect that the one name that I had thought of for you had had on me. What had it been? Va… Vana… no it was Valli! Valli, a beautiful Tamil name. It somehow gave a tangible form and meaning to all my desires and aspirations that I had built up for you while you were still in my womb!

The tragedy of the our nation is not the countless wrongs and evils in society, but the nonchalance with which all of it is accepted. To an average Indian, it is normal for the powerful men to get away with rape, theft, murder, goondaism, and even genocides. We have had a few pogroms of our own, and the perpetrators are still walking freely on our streets, occupying positions of power and the people accept it nonchalantly. Aside from these age old strategies of politics, we also have a growing nexus, an evil wedlock between the government and the industrialists. Where this is going to take our society, I cannot fathom.

However, the greatest crime that our society has inflicted upon itself is probably the mass murder of the Girl child!

Yes, I shall shortly be joining the ranks of the millions who have made their little girl children disappear.

My Valli, why do you keep looking up at my face? With such a gentle smile too, resting peacefully in my apparently reassuring and secure arms, do you not sense the monstrous deed that I am about to carry out?

How things got this bad this soon I cannot understand. During the earlier stages of my pregnancy, the doctors had already indicated to us your gender. Though this is illegal, it is quite common for the medical practitioners to flout the law and add a healthy supplement to their monthly income.

Society has ganged together and has decided to rip apart the Girl Child. At every stage of Her life, she faces numerous dangers. While within the warm womb, she probably thinks she is safe from the grubby, bloody paws of the world. While in her infancy, she does not understand why she does not get the same quality of food and clothing, love and care that the family bestows upon her brothers. While in her youth, she bows her head while walking in the streets, ignoring the catcalls and the leers and fervently hopes that she gets home without being molested. While her womanhood blossoms, she is forced to cull the tiny buds of Her next generation. As a woman, she is forced into a subservient position, with none of her humanity being recognized and respected.

My situation is similar. My sweet mother in law turned into a vicious venom spewing putrid monster when I refused to abort. My father in law tried giving me “practical” advice by summoning up all his worldly wisdom. My husband at first seemed like he cared for you. With time, and with the constant stream of venom being filled into his head, he too turned against me... and you!

What am I to do dear Valli? No, I cannot look upon your face if you smile! Stop smiling! I shall pinch you and make you cry… but wait, what if the noise attracts the creatures of the dark? The river Cauvery runs deep and still at this point. We shall sit here on the shore for a while, just you and me Valli.

A woman is brought up and prepared to be inducted into the patriarchal society. Her education is compromised upon. Why would she require an education? She is to be married off to some other family, she wouldn’t need professional skills, all she needs is to know how to cook and run the household!

Well, running the household is harder than most men would realize. And we hardly get any credit for it Valli! Well, all this does not matter, for you shall swim for one last time in the cool womb of Mother Cauvery.

Look, at those puppies there Valli. What a joy it is to watch them and their mother! Ever so dedicated and selfless is She! But look now Valli! I shall give it some milk from your bottle, I hope you don’t mind, we mothers should stick up for each other, shouldn’t we.

But look now! A dog has come and driven away the mother, it is lapping up all the milk! She has meekly submitted! She is subjugated across all specie, Valli!

My dear baby, why did I ever bring you into this world? My eyes are welling up now. Before my bosom explodes, I shall drop you into the water! Oh! Don’t look at me that way! I am evil! I am a monster, do not smile at me Valli!

But look now! The dog! It is lunging towards the little pups. Surely, the way it is growling, it means to harm them! How much evil must I partake of today?

But the mother is standing her ground! The bitch is fighting back Valli! Look, she seems transformed from the meek submission of just a moment ago! Her canines are glowing and when she growls, it is as if I am growling along with her, as if, all her Mothers, since the ages past, since Her primeval beginnings are growling along with her!

She has fended him off Valli! Hurray! Mothers are not helpless after all!

Oh Valli! Let us not be hasty! I shall sit here and think of the various ways out for us. Surely I shall be able to provide for you!

Millions of women are happy and lead fulfilling lives under circumstances worse than ours. I have not completed my college degree, but at least I am educated! Human society is not as bad as the lawless world of the animals who live by their tooth and claws. India is not a jungle filled with debased animals.

Come Valli! We shall start our new life together. I hope you will forgive my momentary weakness and embark upon this new adventure along with me!

Oh! Why do you cry now! You stupid child! How can I possibly entrust you to the tempestuous Cauvery when you have not even learnt when to smile and when to cry?

I shall protect you with my life dear Valli! Fear not! We shall face life together! What is the worst that could happen? Worse than what could have happened tonight? Never! Come my love, our adventure awaits!"

A Most Unfortunate Turtle

"Please photograph the turtle with its carapace facing upwards and once with its belly upwards. Place a scale alongside it for reference. Please mail these photos to me, and release it into the sea.", said Dr Divya.

"All right madam... No its not a problem at all, I'll take care of it. Right ma'am.", said Adesh as he cut the call and stuffed the phone down his pocket.

"Is it a turtle or a tortoise? Is there a difference at all?" asked Pandey.

A quick look on wikipedia revealed to both the young civil engineers that turtles primarily habituated aquatic environs while tortoises were found in arid regions.

Adesh and Pandey had come to the worksite- situated on the shore of the Bay of Bengal, forty kilometers north of Chennai- in the morning to find their labourers and supervisors peering into a water tank. Upon closer inspection, they found that there was a turtle inside the tank. Apparently, Billu, one of the workmen had found the animal nearby and had brought it to the camp site.

"Maine road pe se uthaya sirji", said Billu in hindi. ("I lifted it off the road").

For the past couple of months, many Olive Ridley turtles' carcasses had turned up on the beach. Dr Divya, a retired professor from a Marine Fisheries Research Institute had been notified and had personally visited the site a few times to identify the species. She had advised the two engineers to take due care and report any findings of live or dead turtles or egg laying sites.

Upon finding the little turtle inside the tank, and that too alive, Adesh was ecstatic. He had been an avid watcher of documentaries featuring animals since childhood. The sight of so many dead creatures had made him call Dr Divya initially when the carcasses had been turning up. After feeling helpless for so many days, here was his chance at last to do his bit to help this ancient species. He was sure that the small turtle was an infant and had lost its way after hatching. He decided that he would release it into the sea much like the Steve Irwins on television.

Pandey on the other hand was ecstatic too, but for a different reason. His eyes came half out of their sockets, and his smile revealed most of his teeth; his canines shining brightly.

"Lets eat it!", cried Pandey.

"No!", cried Adesh and half the labourers.

"Yes!", cried the other half with glee.

"Its an endangered creature! Don't you have enough of chicken and fish as it is?", said Adesh.

"Look Adesh, I grew up working part time at a butcher's shop. When I look at goats or chickens, I only see the curry, not the animals. I've had a long unfulfilled wish to eat a tortoise, let me have this one." pleaded Pandey.

Kalu, one of the labourers, took up Pandey's case. He explained patiently to Adesh and the others opposed to eating the turtle that the best way to cook them would be to put them into a vessel containing boiling water while they are still alive. The vessel would have to be closed with a heavy lid, or a stone could be placed upon a lighter lid to prevent the turtle from escaping the vessel as it frantically rushes around inside it during its final death throes.

"Gud gud gud gud gud gud... Gud gud gud gud gud gud... Gud gud gud gud gud gud... Bhagega!", cried out Kalu while circling his arms horizontally indicating that the turtle would rush around in circles within the vessel while noises indicated by the onomatopoeic 'Gud gud gud gud gud gud...' would be generated.

Post the boiling procedure, the turtle would be relieved of its carapace and seasoned and cooked in a gravy.

"Please don't call that Divya lady! Let me have this thing!" cried out Pandey as if he were gasping for water in the heart of the Thar on a hot summer day. He had been quite inspired by Kalu's vivid description of the cooking procedure.

"DOCTOR Divya! She is a senior scientist who retired from a very high position from a national institute, at least have a little respect!" said Adesh as he fished out his phone and dialed the number.

The number turned out to be wrong, much to Pandey's amusement. But Adesh prevailed upon him to call Dr Divya.

"Fine, I'll call this Divya woman." said Pandey grumpily.

"The turtle seems to be a young one judging by its photographs. It is probably scared to venture out into the sea. After releasing it, please observe to see if it returns to the shore. Call me back if that happens, we will then have to rehabilitate it elsewhere." said Dr Divya.

Adesh and Pandey proceeded towards the shore followed by ten of their workmen.

"Fine, but if the damn thing comes back, it is mine!" cried out Pandey.

Standing a few feet from the water, Adesh freed the turtle on the sandy beach. Within seconds, it completely burrowed and buried itself into the soil.

Billu had been observing the two engineers. He intervened at this point and asked them what it was exactly that they planned to do. Adesh took it upon himself to explain the life cycle of Olive Ridleys and how the young ones needed to swim out to sea immediately upon hatching.

"Par yeh namak pani ka toh nahi hai sirji!", cried Billu. (But this isn't a sea water turtle sir)

Adesh and Pandey assured him that a highly learned person, recently retired from a premier institute had seen the photographs, and they were simply following her advice. Billu nodded his consent, although he had originally brought the turtle to the campsite with the hope of raising it.

Kalu dug the turtle out. It immediately receded into its carapace, Kalu started tapping on its shell while wearing a hungry smile on his face. "Gud gud gud gud gud gud...", cried he delightfully, making one last futile attempt to make Adesh see his point.

Pandey snatched the turtle from Kalu's hands, rushed out towards the sea and released it in waist deep water. Everyone sighed as they watched the turtle swim away in the turbulent rough sea, although half of them sighed with relief and the other half from disappointment.

"Kya fayda sirji, yeh to mar jayega!" cried a forlorn Kalu. (What's the use sir, it will surely die.)

Adesh had had enough of this rubbish and turned the full force of his ire towards Kalu and Billu who had persisted on having morbid thoughts despite being assured of Adesh's ten years of NGC watching experience and the qualifications of Dr Divya.

"The female turtles come onto the shore and dig a hole to lay their eggs. Once the hatch-ling digs itself out of the nest, it needs to move out towards the sea. This turtle must have lost its way, which is why you found it on the road behind our camp site-"

"Not the road behind out camp site sir! But the Chennai bye-pass highway near Ponneri!" cried out Billu cutting short Adesh's monologue.

"But that is 20 kilometers inland! Then this couldn't possibly be a sea turtle!" exclaimed Adesh while turning to look horror struck at the huge waves crashing onto the shore. The Bay of Bengal was not at all happy, and it showed! The swells could be seen breaking far before the inter-tidal zone, and the strong wind wasn't helping matters much.

Adesh ordered the entire group to get back to work while trying to mollify an irate Pandey.

"You brought the damn thing from twenty kilometers away and you tell us now! After its thrown into the bloody sea! Its not even endangered! I could have eaten it, if only you had opened your mouth earlier!" shouted Pandey at Billu.

A few hours later, Kalu came running towards Pandey. They could be seen whispering together much like conspirators planning a despot's demise.

"Don't stop me now, remember the deal, its mine if it returns!" said Pandey.

Adesh didn't try to stop Pandey and he tried not to get too perturbed by Kalu who was circling his arms wildly while repeatedly crying, "Gud gud gud gud gud gud..."

Dr Divya was informed about the successful release of the Olive Ridley hatchling, without too much of the details to prevent confusion.