One Birth Multiple Deaths

I am a Hindu by birth.  Like almost everyone in the world I did not choose my religion, I was born into it.  Many do not understand this, so, they talk about why their religion is better, and others' are not.

I never spent time learning about Hinduism either.  I studied this as a subject at school till year 10 (or year 8), mostly about miracles GOD has performed, and memorise slogans and verses which praised the GOD and sought a favour from Him.  Till now I believe in God, and the only way I could pray is by reciting verses I learnt.  Although I had been to Churches, and Budhist temples, I am comfortable in a Hindu temple.

Although often I felt the need to learn about my religion, it was never on top of my priority list.  Once I found Rig Veda at an airport shop, bought it, but could not go beyond a few pages.  It was HEAVY stuff.  Then I found another book on Hinduism, which had one liners per page about Hindusim, and that was much easier to comprehend.  Two things I remember from that book, (1) A sin is an act that I commit, against my own conscious, and (2) when we leave, we leave our name alone.

I wanted to write about the second one here.  In my case I have left five countries, three educational institutions, and three jobs.  I would have interacted with thousands, neighbors, teachers, students, colleagues, and they all will remember me in many different ways.  When their memory of me fade, I will die, whether I am physically dead or not.  I will have thousands of deaths.  The person who lost his job because of me, will remember me as an evil, and the guy who got promoted based on my recommendation, will remember me with respect.  The first one will never admit that he lost his job because of his poor performance.

So, even well after my death, I will be remembered by a few, but for a long time.  It could be my grand kid.  I hope the last person to remember me, remembers something positive about me!

Good Afternoon on my 58th

I turned 58 today.  Went to a Temple nearby, essentially thanked God for what He has provided me over the years, had my breakfast, and then wanted to do something that I wanted to do.  I decided to take the train from Colombo and travel to Galle along the caost of Sri Lanka.  That was not a smart decison to travel by train.  I have forgotten what SL train voyage could be.  Although I had a second class ticket, there were no seats when I got in.  I stood for an hour, then sat for an hour and reached Hikkaduwa, a popular beach, not just for the tourists, but for the locals as well.

As I walked along the coastal street, a sign displaying 'Co-op Beer Garden and Restraurant' caught my attention.  A cooperative beer garden?  Isn't that some thing unusual?  I decided to go in.  The walkway led me to the beach, and there were hundreds of people, all local.  Almost all possible seats were taken, people enjoying a swim, a drink and then of course the songs.

I caught the attention of a waiter, and asked for a seat.  He was not sure what to do, then brought a table, a table cloth and a chair, and arranged a makeshift seat under a Teak tree.  That was good.  The humidity demanded that I must have a beer, I ordered one, start to gulp, and then looked around.

Among the groups which were partying there was a group of about 20-25, almost every other person looked Autistic.  No one was bothering them and they were not shy either.  They walked about where ever they wanted to go, ordered whatever they wanted, ate, and sang.  Just like anyone else.  I reflected on my childhood days in Jaffna, when kids with autism were avoided, sometimes teased in cruel manner, and mostly left on their own.  What I was witnessing was a sign of the society's maturity.

As I pondered over what I was watching, a man from the group, plus or minus a few years to my age, he did not look autistic, went past me.  We made eye contact, and he said Good Afternoon with a smile. 

Yes it was indeed a GOOD AFTERNOON, so, I humbly acknowledged and wished him the same.

Zewdu The Waiter

I spent the last eight days in Addis Ababa, stayed in a hostel on-campus.  Zewdu is a waiter at the cafetaria, always with a waistcoat matching his pants, well knotted tie, chef's cap, and a name badge.  He must had been trained by someone western to dress up.

I think his memory is like a sieve.  Nothing stays there.  He will ask what I will have for breakfast, I will say fried eggs, he will take two steps, and forget about it, and loiter.  Then I will call him again, he will attend to me politely, hands held back, standing smart and he will take my order again.  Then you know what happens.  Initially it was a bit annoying, but, then I got used to it.

At times he will come to me voluntarily, and ask if I need anything.  If I say nothing, then he will protest by saying, remember, we are your family here and you must allow me to take care of you.  It was nice.  I saw him saying the same to many people.  He wanted to be hospitable.

One day, I called him, 'Zewdu', and he liked my pronounciation and the tone.  It had a bit of friendship and authority.  He stopped and smiled.  Then he said that my pronounciation was perfect.  He then went on to say, that Zewdu means a Crown in his tribal language.  He was born at the time when a King was crowned.  It must be Halie Salazzie.  His father worked at the palace at that time of his birth, and named him, CROWN (Zewdu).

It was at the workshop dinner, he taught me how to drink.  I ordered a glass of wine, he came with a bottle of beer, and a glass of wine.  I told him that I did not want the beer, for that he said, drink the beer first, that's for thirst, then drink the wine with the food for digestion.  He had it all worked out. I obliged.

I will not remember the food at the cafetaria, it was boring, but will remember Zewdu.

Back to Blogger fromAddis

I haven't been blogging, not that I did not have something memorable to write, but was busy, sick or lazy.  Today, I am in Addis Ababa, and I have time (TV in the room is not working).

As we landed, it was around 6 AM, the landscape looked very neatly laid.  Its a hill country, and I did not see any soil conservation measures to check erosion.  But it looked nice.  Moral is just because things looks good, things are not OK.

There is only one word to describe the weather here, beautiful.  The driver said its a bit warm here, he was warning about temperatures reaching mid 20s.

I am staying at the ILRI campus.  This is another sister institute within CGIAR.  I have been to similar campuses of IRRI, CIMMYT and ICRISAT.  They are all good, well  maintained, and a real professional working environment.  IWMI's one is not great, but not bad.  I can only envy the visionaries who have set up such beautiful campuses for the benefit of the poor.

I remember reading that people from the horn of Africa are the most beautiful, and I have to agree with that statement.  They look nice, rarely overweight, dressed neatly, AND, they look beautiful.

I haven't been around today, slept, replied to emails, met some office colleagues.  But I must make use of the weekend to see Addis/Ethiopia.

What will make me quit?

I had been on the move since the 6th of March, and today is 18th April.  I will return to Delhi only on the 29th April.  In between 22 flights in total.  I am just tired.  I ended up going to a doctor yesterday to get some antibiotics, cough mixture and paracetamol.  I wonder why I do this?

I recall an essay by an American journalist commenting on Rick Santorum's decision to run for presidency, despite seven kids, one of them very badly ailing.  The columninst asks rhetorically, does he really have to do this?  Then why is she doing this? And she concludes that it is a personal obsession with the position made him run.  Last week he pulled out, fearing that he will lose his home state primary.

So, what will make me quit?

Genius of Human Brain Vs Nature

If anyone wants to see how man has challenegd nature and getting away, they should visit South-western Bangladesh, especially the polders near Sundar Bon (Beautiful Forest).  During the 60's and 70's, what was then East Pakistan, with the help of Americans built 4000 km of embankment, comprising 92 polders, along the coast of Bay of Bengal.  These structures are supporting a poulation density of 900 people per sq km.  In comparison, Sri Lanka has a population density of 300, and it is considered crowded.  The polders have kept sea water intrusion away, depite tidal movement of rivers, up to 5 m up and down, twice a day.

I was fortunate to be there in March, well ahead of monsoons, and well after monsoons.  I am told that that the whole area is under water from August till October, houses kept well above water on pillars.  When I visited, everything looked luscious and green.  Beautifully laid rice bays intermimgled with ghers where freshwater fish and shrimp were grown.

To my surprise, the school children looked healthy, and happy, on their way to and from school.

I was warned, that in a few months, another cyclone may come, destroy everything, often just before harvest.  BUT, I am also told, that people will stay back and rebuild.

It was all big pleasant surprise to me, a person, who folllowed the independence war of Bangladesh very closely, and always felt sorry for a nation, which does not need my sympathies.

Way to go Bangladesh!

Colombo undergoes a facelift

Recently I was in Colombo, and I could see a sea of difference,  It was CLEAN, green and beautiful.  It turns out that the president's brother is in charge of urban development.  He being in-charge of the Military, the Military is also supporting the drive to beautify Colombo.  Although I have not been to other cities of Sri Lanka, I am told similar changes are in place there too. 

Another thing I was happy about was, people are on street even around 9 PM, without the fear of being mugged or harassed.  Street cafes at Galle Face green were crowded, women with plenty of jewelry, sitting enjoying the breeze from the sea. 

Now that there are hardly any military check points, I think Colombo offers a very good value for money for many tourists.

Very Good.