Tanishka, the story of your beginning...

Mole, my dear Chelamma..
As I write this you are fast asleep in your bassinet blissfully unaware. You are dressed in your white Halo sack that your mom says makes you look like an angel. There is a strange sense of calm in seeing you grunt in your sleep with your arms raised over your head. I cannot help but think about what all of us went through.. me, your mom and especially you.

I suppose we should start with my dinner in Cork. It was at your mom's favorite Greek restaurant and I had ordered lamb chops. The phone was ringing and I never noticed; happily reading my book and in between engaging in banter with the owner. It was probably a good fifteen minutes later when I saw the text from your mom: "Call me, its urgent". The doctor has asked her to get ready and move to the Riverton hospital. I remember standing in the cold, outside the restaurant, processing the news as your mom gave me details on her doctor's visit. I kept reassuring her while I myself was confused about everything that was unfolding, it was too unreal and too fast. I rushed back in to pay my tab and made some half hearted excuses about being too full. It was a long way back to my hotel. I kept flicking through various forums and websites looking for a reassurance that it was okay to have an elevated blood pressure. I remember briefly running into some comments about severe preeclampsia and brushing those away. Lets not worry about all those scary outcomes, I told myself.

It wasn't  easy on your mom at all. The poor soul was all by herself and clearly panicking on the phone. I promised I would be on the first flight out of Ireland. We were on the phone talking as I started my long drive from Cork to Dublin. She kept telling me how she wasn't ready to deliver you. Your mom was always nervous about her labor pains and she thought she had another seven weeks to mentally prepare herself. But such is life sweetheart!
I remember forgetting to play songs in the car when I hung up with your mom. It wasn't a conscious decision. The RTE radio kept blaring some Irish country music in the background and between that and the rain outside, it was a perfect setting to ramble on with my thoughts.
The travel agent had booked me on the 6AM Ethiopian airlines flight out of Dublin. I barely had time to grab a coffee and buy you a onesie that said "Someone who loves me bought me this from Ireland". The waiting area was full with frustrated passengers. For all my rush, the flight was delayed by a good hour and half. And then for the first time since the whole saga started, panic set in. You see, I had a connecting flight out of Los Angeles with two and half hours of stopover and the delay at Dublin meant there was a good chance I would miss my connecting flight. And what if I did? I was looking at later flights out of Los Angeles in case I missed my connecting flight and it would mean a delay of at least 8 hours if not more. 8 hours seemed like eternity!

The plane ride was uneventful. The young guy seated besides me was very friendly. He worked for Netflix on the Narcos show. That led us to some interesting conversations and I opened up to him about how I was in a rush to get home. Nobody outside of our families knew at this point. Somehow it was deeply relieving to lay it all out with a stranger. He assured me I could stay at his place in Los Angeles in case I missed my flight. Sometimes a kind word is all it takes. As soon as the flight landed, I frantically made my way through the crowd. Most were Egyptian natives who spoke no english but they must have sensed the sincerity in my emergency. I was very thankful in my heart for their kindness. And surprisingly ended up being one of the first few passengers to get out of the coach section. No sooner was I out than I began my mad rush to the immigration desk. I had to get through immigration, pick my bag, change terminals, check in with American airlines, go back through security and make it to the departure gate in time. I looked at my watch and I had little less than an hour left. I told myself I was giving this every bone in my body. If I ended up missing my flight I wanted to have the satisfaction of giving it everything I had. There was an Asian family at the immigration counter ahead of me, an elderly man, a young boy and presumably the boy's mom.
I could see that the officer was taking longer than usual to examine each passenger and I kept aside all reservations to ask the elderly man if I could skip ahead of his family. For a few seconds he stared blankly at me which I mistook as his discomfort at the request. The young boy stepped in and translated my request into mandarin at which point the kind soul nodded his head and asked me to go ahead. As soon as it was my turn at the counter, I told the officer I was rushing to be with your mom and he did his job, wished me luck and waived me through. The rest of my time to the gate unfolded like the climax of the movie Argo; running between terminals, shouting at people to keep out of my way, bothering the gate agents to expedite my check in and what have you. And boy oh boy I finally made the flight. There was exactly a  minute left and I was one of the last passengers to board.
I barely had enough time to make a quick call to your mom. She asked me to come to a different hospital and it was the first time I heard the phrase "NICU". Little did both of us know this would be your first home for the next several weeks. I remember hanging up the call and thinking to myself, "Wow, this could be happening. We might be seeing you soon". As the plane soared and made it's way through the Nevada desert lands I was reminded of all the unknown faces who came together to help me catch the flight in time. Sometimes the greatest help you receive is invisible and as you grow up and go through life remember that any help you offer someone in a dire emergency will be the best help they get, no matter how small.
I rushed straight to the hospital as soon as I arrived in Salt Lake. It was such a relief to finally be with your mom. She was all shaken up but holding it together. It hadn't completely sunk in for both of us yet. There was this feeling of "It cant be happening to us". I had to stay positive and confident for your mom's sake. I kept reassuring her how they would get her blood pressure under control and we would reach full term before delivering you. The doctors and nursing staff kept checking in periodically on her. At some point, the blood pressure spiked beyond normal range and they decided to put her on magnesium. Your mom was completely drugged out, she could hardly stay awake to hold a conversation or have a complete meal. It was painful and shocking to see her transformation. You could physically see the stress and medicines taking a toll on her body.
My next few days that week were spent shuttling between home and hospital, checking on Thithli, getting your mom her essentials, consulting on her progress with the hospital staff and fielding calls from our families. Most nights were spent at the hospital. Our lives were getting into a new routine. Early morning visits from the ob-gyn team, labetalol pills every 4 hours, food from the hospital cafeteria that grew out of your mom's favor fairly soon and late night phone calls from friends and families. And then the night of Friday the 12th crept up on us.

Your mom's blood pressure spiked around midnight. The attending nurse was shocked at the reading and put it down as an outlier. We assumed in our naivety that your mom could take deep breaths or not move for a few minutes before taking those readings and somehow that would help keep the blood pressure down. That clearly wasn't the case. Every one of her readings for the next few hours through the night kept getting worse. By the crack of dawn, Dr Kim, stopped by and started prepping your mom on labor and delivery. We were so unprepared that your mom wasn't even sure why Dr Kim would talk about labor when we still assumed it was a good 2 weeks away. It took a few minutes before it finally dawned on your mom, it could be as soon as the same day! I was driving home to give Thithli a break when your mom called me panicking about Dr Kim's visit. I remember hanging up and being flooded with a sea of emotions. There was the anxiety of course but also an odd mix of being eager to see you while being unhappy that we had to force you out and cause all that pain upon you. I barely managed to keep it together while consoling your mom it was all going to be just fine. I kept telling her how the doctors at InterMountain were the finest in the business and that I would personally consult with other doctors before agreeing to what Dr Kim had suggested. My next call was to your uncle Sri. We spoke for a few minutes and before I knew he was already booking tickets to have Subashini travel over and stay with us for a few days. As soon as I was home I needed to sit by Thithli and cuddle her just to get a handle on things. I remember playing Chelamma song from the movie Joker on our TV and the song stirred me up very deeply. I could already sense a deep bond with you and remember feeling deep inside an immense longing to see you, hold you and let you know that you meant the world to both mom and I and if there was anything at all we could do to make you feel better, we were ready.

The sheer randomness of those few days will always haunt us in some way. In a way it can be quite humbling to know that everything we take for granted in our lives always hangs by a thread. For almost two years before you arrived I had stopped praying and visiting temples. I had begun putting more faith in rationality and humanism but that day I went into the pooja room and prayed. Prayed hard for you, prayed for your mom. Prayed that you arrive healthy and stay happy and that was all we could ever care for.

Your mom was in tears when I came back. She had already taken the first pill to induce labor and reality had set in quite strongly. I couldn't say what was troubling her more: the sheer pain her body underwent over the next couple hours of labor or her mental stress at preparing for the unprepared. We held each other tightly as she fought her battle. Everything you hear about labor pains is true. And add to that the fact she was on all that other medication for her preeclampsia just made it significantly worse. I was feeling sorry and helpless. There was a team of practitioners monitoring your mom's dilation and your heart beat. At some point, they couldn't locate your heart rate accurately and panic set in for a few minutes while the nurses fumbled around before one of the nurses had the good sense to check your mom's dilation. None of them were expecting her to fully dilate before the following morning. This was around 8:30PM in the night and yet there you were! All ready and set to arrive. Your mom was fully dilated and the nurse could feel the crown of your head. You were ready for us even before any of us were ready to receive you. :)

The next few minutes unfolded in fast forward mode. Before we knew the doctor had arrived, she was on the phone getting the operating theater ready, someone was on their way to get the NICU prepped and a junior resident had already handed me the gown instructing me to suit up right away. In less than 5 minutes we were all pacing with your mom on her delivery bed to the theater. There was a team of residents and nurses already waiting in the theater. The light boom was on, instruments out on trays, monitors all set up waiting for the leads to get hooked up and gloves and hair nets ready for all of us. Your mom surprisingly stayed calm. In a way it felt like she didn't have the time to worry, rather just bracing up for those final moments of labor. I ended up standing right besides your mom's head and she held on to my hands as she pushed. Your mom did exceedingly well and you arrived very soon. The first image I have of you is that thick mop of black hair on your head, the full throated cry you let out and those big dark eyes. Dr Kim transferred you right away to the NICU and your mom barely had a chance to lay her eyes on you but yes she remembers that cry for sure. :)
I was so very overwhelmed with emotion quite unlike any feeling ever experienced before. I remember having tears in my eyes and just struggling to keep my emotions in check. It was such an intense barrage of happiness, pride and love that you could call it almost spiritual or divine.
One of your mom's complaints is that I am never too expressive emotionally. Well I think I made up for all of it that day.                                                                              

Day 1

Once we were back at the ward, you could see the relief and joy in your mom. We gave away chocolates that I had bought on my way back from Ireland and all we could talk about was you; when would we finally have a chance to stop by and see you in the NICU. Well, we didn't have to wait long. About 2 hours later  the resident nurse helped wheel your mom into the NICU and we had our first chance to spend some time with you. The NICU staff told us right away that you were doing well. They had to run a few tests and monitor your vitals to come up with a treatment plan but nothing that would cause them too much concern. It was quite heartbreaking honestly to see you in the incubator with the eye mask and feeding tubes and monitoring leads. The electronic pings from the monitoring systems were the only sounds we could hear. I still find it hard to believe how tiny and fragile you seemed and yet to there was this feisty spirit in you fighting to stay healthy. You will continue to amaze me every one of my waking days.
I tried not to look too much at everything else but focus on your breathing and those little pink and soft feet. I think it was the same for your mom. She didn't want to stay there too long for fear of breaking down. We left in about 20 minutes.

The following day we arrived at the same time as the "daily all hands" meaning the doctor, therapist, nurse practitioner and your nurses had all assembled to plan your treatment for that day. We could sense they were being cautious yet positive about your status. We had a chance to introduce ourselves to everyone and Dr Hari, your doctor in charge was curious to know where we hailed from. Your mom was in a wheelchair, barely managing to stay awake through the discussions with all the heavy medication that was coursing through her IV lines. The rest of the day was uneventful and that's a huge relief to any NICU parent. We had a few friends visiting and just taking our mind off and chatting about their lives helped both your mom and I.

The following day started off with a scare. I was home packing up a change of clothes for us when I received a call from the nurse practitioner talking about an infection that they had discovered in your blood work. I kept her on the phone for a good 30 minutes, one question after the other trying to make sure I was in agreement with their diagnosis. In the end I gave them the approval to proceed with conducting a lumbar puncture on you so they could make sure you did not have spinal meningitis. It was a tough phone call and I kept revisiting the conversation challenging myself over and over again if conducting a lumbar puncture was the right decision. The thought of that LP needle pricking your spine was deeply painful and personal. These medical decisions we make are time sensitive and I convinced myself that the doctors should have the chance to diagnose and treat you right away if that was the case. Thankfully and in answer to your mom's prayers the results came back negative and the team concluded it was a case of an ecoli infection that could be treated with regular dose antibiotics for a week.

The next few weeks fell into more of a steady routine for us. As your mom grew healthier and was eventually discharged form the hospital, we would visit you couple hours every morning and evening. Your aunt Subashini was very helpful during those first few days and that really helped your mom just stay in her bed and focus on her recovery. It's friends like her who helped ease the pains of being away from our families and dealing with the turbulence in our lives. While it seemed like twenty four hours weren't enough in a day, it was the pleasure of seeing you grow bigger and bigger every day that kept us going.                                                            

Your mom fought a tough battle those first few days as she shuttled between her ward and your NICU room every few hours. It wasn't just tough on her physically but even more so emotionally. She would occasionally have periods of emotional breakdown talking about the sights of you wired up in that incubator. She felt a personal sense of guilt in having you go through all of it outside the womb while you could have been inside sheltered from all those harsh conditions for another seven weeks.

With Sarah

With Ashley

Greta training us.. That's not you!

It was never easy and never is for any NICU parent but what kept us going is your strength and knowing what we went through was nowhere close to what you were putting yourself through. The nurses at the NICU were another major source of strength for us. They had a provision for us to pick your primary nurses and Susan, Sarah, Ashley and Lindsey cared for you like you were a part of their own family. They would debrief us every day on your progress and help us care for you. Your mom and I would have skin to skin sessions with you everyday for a couple hours knowing that would help with your development. Its funny, we would actually be relieved to see you poop when we changed your diapers since that meant your digestive system was functioning the way it was supposed to.
Your nurses were very emotional closer to your discharge and sent us a really nice card wishing you well. We really hope you have a chance to meet them next year at the NICU reunion when you are a year older :)

Your home coming was so overwhelming. Our little princess was finally ready to join us! The timing on it took us all by surprise. All your doctors and nurses were very happy to see you get discharged almost 4 weeks prior to their planned date. You were just racing across every preemie milestone, we were all so proud of you.

Home @ 40 days

Honey, my dear Chelama I want you to always know this - you were born a fighter and will always remain one. Some day you will face your first heartbreak, you may have a friend turn her back on you or lose a career opportunity. There will always be moments of despair and darkness but remember you are our darling angel that came out fighting and you will always have that in you. We are so incredibly proud of you. Your ability to thrive was and always will be very inspiring to your mom and I, so let nobody take you down!

We love you

Achan and Amma.

Taare Zameen Par v/s "Taare" Zameen Par (Film stars on Earth)

Most of us reading this blog have watched Taare Zameen Par (TZP) and I am quite sure all of us definitely agree it is one of the better movies churned out by Bollywood in recent times. But were you, like me, fooled by the climax too? Read on to find out...

Media was rife with a popular controversy involving Amol Gupte and Aamir Khan soon after the release of this wonderful movie. Some claimed that Mr.Gupte was the guy behind the wheels and not Mr.Khan. I am a huge fan of Aamir but I cannot help but take sides with Mr.Amol Gupte on this controversy and I can explain why. Amol in one of his interviews outlines the climax he had in his mind for TZP.

But before we go on to Amol's climax, let us cut back to the original climax for a moment. Ishaan wins the art competition and soon after, his parents are shown visiting the school and this time all his teachers are exalting his grades. All's well that ends well and the viewers are left with the image of a joyous Ishaan being thrown up in the air by Aamir. But isn't that destroying the very essence of the subject. Think about it for a moment. The movie was all along riding on the tracks of "Academic excellence or success is not the end of the road for kids". The movie was all about portraying the struggle of a talented yet dyslexic kid trying to gain acceptance in family and social circles. It was never meant to be the battle of a slow learner versus a super academic achiever. With an ending like this, the viewer is more inclined towards crediting Aamir with turning around the kid's future. That is precisely the kind of ending a "star" would think of. Think also about the practical possibilities of such a ending. From writing "t"s backwards to excellent grades in 5 months flat is beyond any dyslexic kid's abilities. Now here is the ending a man like Amol who was involved with researching the subject for 7 years had envisioned. Ishaan's father meets his son, the next day, kneels down so that his eyes meet his son's (probably signifying how the father has finally achieved the ability to bend down to his kid's level and understand his difficulties) and embraces his son. The final image that Amol wanted his viewers to be left with was a flipbook drawn by Ishaan. As the flipbook rolls, you now see a kid returning back to his family and joining his parents and brother. (think about this versus the flipbook he had drawn earlier).

Oh yeah! Probably the second ending would have meant 10% lower collections in the B-grade movie centers of interior Uttarakhand but it definitely would have gelled more with the subject and commanded greater appreciation.
Mr.Gupte, I vote for you.

Movie Review "Inglorious Basterds"

Disclaimer: This blog has spoilers and if you are the kind who would rather kill a friend than hear the climax of a movie, please steer away.

Let me start with all the obvious that we have come to expect in a Tarantino creation. The movie is divided into chapters, follows a book style narrative and has more than enough gut wrenching, blood spilling scenes of raw violence.
Rushes: A Jewish American troop of nine soldiers (called "The Inglorious Basterds" are assigned a mission to drop into France (this is during the WWII years) and kill Nazi soldiers brutally. They are ordered to leave a clear trail of their horror in the dismembered, disfigured bodies of the Nazis they kill so that the Nazis fear them and get a taste of their own anti-Jew atrocities. The "Inglorious Basterds" decide (towards Chapter 3) that the premiere for a German movie (at a Parisian movie theatre) that is set to be attended by top rank Nazi officers is the perfect war ground to maximize the brutality of their mission. Meanwhile we are introduced to a young Soshanna who is orphaned by the Nazis and is out to seek her revenge. Her revenge is bestowed with a sheer stroke of good fortune when a set of events leads to a new German movie ( that was mentioned earlier) to be premiered at the very Parisian theatre she now owns. A strew of high profile dignatories including the Fuhrer himself (Hitler) shall attend the premiere and it spells the perfect moment for her long waited revenge.
The head of the security for this premiere event, Col Hans Landa (wonderfully enacted by Christoph Waltz) stumbles upon the plan of the "Inglorious Basterds". A highly intelligent detective he is known for his powers to snoop out people and their plans. How the Inglorious Basterds" and Soshanna converge in their plans unkowing to each other forms the core of a wonderfully shot climax that is excitingly surprising (blow your seats off kind of material).

There were a few scenes in the movie that were absolutely engaging. I have tried to include a few of these here with my own interpretations of why those scenes had been orchestrated (yes thats the word), a particular way. To me, Chapter One was the best part of the whole movie. I could exhilarate on how every scene from Chapter 1 was an experience in itself and I would still do injustice to the quality of its making.
Chapter 1:
We are introduced to a family in German occupied France who suddenly one morning have unwelcome visitors: Col Landa and his men. The head of the family, father to three girls, stays calm and resolute as Landa interrogates away in his piercingly intelligent style but finally gives in and points to the floorboards beneath when it comes to choosing between the refugees and his family.  The conversation between the father and Landa starts in French with subtitles in English and when you wonder why they switch over halfway to English you realize it is because the detective does not want the refugees hiding underneath to know that they will be eventually sniffed out and shot. The only small complaint I had : Would have rather preferred Tarantino to leave this to the audience to figure out than have the detective explain the reason for the language switch.
Tarantino arranges the script, characterization of the father, the music and the dialogues in a crescendo mode to build the feeling of anticipations in his viewers. By the climax of the chapter the movie watcher is almost on his fours pleading the director to end the anticipation. Tarantino wins the audience and has them to his cinematic beck and call by the end of his first chapter. The penultimate scene in Chapter 1 of Shoshanna running away is brilliantly shot. As the camera focusses on Shoshanna through the viewfinder on Landa's gun, one cannot but sympathize with the fact that Shoshanna's life hangs by the flick of Landa's trigger. The blood on her face and her cries contrast the idyllic village settings and to me this was pure cinematic brilliance. This is why: The mood contrast in the shot leaves the scene etched in the movie watcher's memory so that we easily pick upon the scene every time we cut back to the character and sympathize with her ruthless and blood thirsty motivations in the latter part of the movie.
Chapter 2: We are introduced to the "bear man" who is known to bludgeon his Nazi victims with a baseball bat. A less imaginative director would probably have just shown the man in repetitive horrific bludgeoning acts to build upon the viewers the terror of this character. Lets turn over to Tarantino's guide on movie making. Camera pans to the cave and through pitch black you hear the defeaning sound of the baseball bat getting louder for a full 30 seconds .
Chapter 4: Another scene that impressed me was Shoshanna's moments to herself before she she finally gets down to executing her revenge. Tarantino brilliantly shows through a single scene, the contrasting layers to Shoshanna's being. The interior soft side of her as she reflects moodily and rather sadly by the windowside (I would assume about her past or the wastage of a life that her revenge has rendered her to) but then the shot rolls on to the mirror as Shoshanna applies her mascara and you see her determination and that  slight smile of long awaited revenge. (again brilliantly enacted). If you ponder why Tarantino would show this dual (sensitive versus spiteful) character you need to skip ahead to a later part of the Chapter where Shoshanna is taken by sensitivity to turn the body of the man whom she has just shot upon realizing he may still have some life left in him.
Think about a wonderful Ilayaraja or Rahman song that delights you with surprises like a groovy rythym accompanying a folk tune midway through a song (Genda phool for starters). Tarantino packs in similarly, a lot of 'planned' surprises along the trip. My favorite as with many others was the pause moment in Landa's conversation with Shoshanna when he says he just cannot recollect what he had intended to ask her. I almost sweared he would pounce on her by the end of their scary rendezvous.

The verdict is plain and simple. I may be a Tarantino fan but for all cinema lovers this movie shall indeed be a real exciting and refreshing watch.  Walk into a theatre, strap on your seat belts and get ready for the ride.


Rating: 4.5 on 5

Old blog

http://outtamysystem.blogspot.com/
This was my first blog. Had to hunt through a lot of google search results.
Tried a lot of search strings and came up with a few discoveries. Apparently there are a lot of "Abhilash Nair" s who blog on blogspot; my facebook, linkedin and twitter profiles hold more relevance to google than my Orkut one and whoever came up with the idea of using a single Google sign in to access your blog, mail, social network, news page, buxfer expenses and in short just your whole virtual world is a blessed soul.

The painstaking last discovery was the blog itself.

Memories n Dreams..

Memories are a strange species.
Its almost like they have their own life. They have their own sense of touch, smell, vision and energy. They seem to attack you when you are the most unguarded. It could be a person, a time, a relationship or even a song or a movie scene. But each comes with its own signature.
This quote by Edward de Bono sums it all: "A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen." Well said. :)
Dreams are another manifestation of memories. They are "spiced up" memories. Coherent and more often incoherent memories that are interwoven with the fabric of imagination. Try penning down a dream as soon as you wake up with one, the next time around. More often than not you would find that the settings and atmosphere or even the basic premise of the "story" remains the same. It is just the characters and the emotions attached with them that keep changing. I woke up with the same dream this morning. Back to the long corridor of my school. I am sitting on a bench by the side of the corridor and just watching people pass by. Its a crowd. Acquaintances, friends, relatives.. Old, young, schoolmates, college buddies, colleagues at work.. Its a melting pot of faces..And then somebody shouts at me from the crowd. This morning it was a good friend whom I have known through my childhood years. There is no rhyme or reason to who shouts at me but somebody always does and they come sit besides me on the bench and talk.. Yeah.. Just talk..And then the talk leads to a set of events which then forms the crux of the dream. But the strange fact that I have noticed is that the emotions that they invoke in you as they walk towards the bench in my virtual world is the same if they were to meet me in the real world.
I had this recurring dream during my childhood where I would be performing on stage and there would be a bunch of people all seated in the huge semi-circular arena around the stage watching my act. Parents, friends, well-wishers and critics. Certain acts involved other characters. I also remember trying to put myself to sleep by pushing away all the characters (animals, people, cartoons and such) who would constantly peep in through the stage curtain trying to come in for the next act. Now you may wonder, this sounds uncannily familiar to the "Main Aisa Kyon Hoon" song from Lakshya. I swear I was completely startled when I first saw its rushes on televison. I could have almost sued Farhan Akhtar for copyright. Even the stage, curtains, the seats and the lighting looked eerily same. Hajaar bet, it is inspired from his dreams.

A (in)human story that needs to be told...

Finished reading the book "Memories of a father" just now. It drew a lot of parallels to the Schindler's List narration on Holocaust that I watched yesterday.
Let me begin with a brief synopsis on "Memories of a father". This book which is a translation of the original work in Malayalam by Prof Eachara Varier talks about the ordeals that Prof Eachara had to face during the emergency (1975-77) to try and rescue (but in vain) his son Rajan who was picked one fine morning from his hostel at REC Calicut on suspicions of being a naxalite, taken to a remote camp and brutally tortured to death.A most saddening account also of the emotional turmoils of him and his family following the undeniable acceptance of his son's death.
It is scary to think that people, rather human beings who are all given birth through the same intense pains that every mother has to endure, who are carried in all mothers' wombs with the same prayers, expectations and love can transform into menacing animals who take pleasure at seeing a fellow being crushed and pained intolerably. It is a common story. Be it the anti-LTTE operations of the Srilankan govt or the German Holocaust or the Indian emergency, what is unbelievable is the fact that an individual or a group of individuals are so very ready to perpetuate such inhuman acts on the behalf of a government or a dictator who should hold absolutely no relevance to them. Killing a man out of a sudden irrational burst of anger or vengeance can still be forgiven but to seek pleasure in keeping a man on the fringes of death and see him crying for life or his mother is the most disgusting human act possible.
Another episode in the book that pained me to no end was the way Achutha Menon had allowed power and politics to poison him and make him forget the help and love that his people had shown during the Communist Movement to risk their lives and harbour him. In a way it makes us marvel at the spectrum of human attitudes and emotions possible. From risking your life to protect a friend or a leader to rolling wooden logs on and stabbing the dead thighs of an innocent.
The lines that pained me the most in the book were the father's regret that he could not save his son in the end even when we as readers know that he has gone through the maximum ordeals he could to save him. To lose your son to an act and a cause most unnecessary and demonic in such cruel ways as to not even get the corpse for a decent burial is a pain unfathomable. Probably none other than Prof Eachara Varier himself can forgive all those demons who did that to him.
Kind is the God who gave the father so much courage as to live through it and spread this message to all humanity.
Heart wrenching on similar lines was a scene from Schindler's List where a few women prick their hands to use the blood and apply mascara on their pale and famished cheeks to convince the brutal German inspectors of their healthy looks to avoid immediate execution. This, when they know that in lieu they may either get a hard worker's life or a prostitute's existence.
And to think of all this as events safe and forgotten in the aisles of space and time is nothing short of sheer stupidity. The stark reality that we are surrounded by dormant demons disguised as humans become apparent every time a Gujarat riots or an Iraq Camp occurs. And the most dangerous is that we as a people still live with it and allow our government, the so called representatives to harbour these criminals.
Fanaticism ruins logic and rationale but becomes most dangerous when it erodes basic human virtues of love and compassion as well.

(To be continued....)