Futility of war

I am totally in love with this poem. The reason? Actually, I can’t explain. I’ve met many people, who say, “Life is a battle; battle it out.”, but is it? Is life really a battle? Is that all our lives are about? This poet disagrees, and I agree with him.

War is a man-made thing. Man must take the responsibility and discredit for creating and cultivating the sense of war on innocent minds. Life, is never affected by war. Yes, there are many who have lost lives, loved ones and belongings because of war, but the real reason behind war is not war itself, but humans. War, in its nature is destructive, and many-a-time, so is man. The effects of war are really the consequences of mankind and its idiotic fancies.

Deep down, we all know the fact, but we prefer blaming it on war, for, some among us, still call it a necessity. If no one disturbs another, then where, in  the world, is the need for war? The UN will be out of its job. So this poem made me think, and I realized, that when one person thinks and reflects from within, a lot of change can happen. After all, as Michael says,

“Take a look at yourself, and then make a change”

I think, it’s time for us to call off war. We need to stop battling among ourselves for petty reasons, and that small act will become the great change in the world, someday, hopefully.

Right to enlighten:

Well, in my opinion, there is no one better to portray the uselessness of war than a soldier himself. Owen was a soldier in the First World War. He wrote poems in the hospital when he was injured in war. He recovered and returned to war, never to return again. His poems are based on war and they reveal the fact that words can be powerfully haunting. His poem that hooked me and held me captive is titled as,

“Dulce est decorum est”

He was a mighty soldier, who could vividly create a scene of war before our very eyes. A brilliant read, definitely worth.

“Dulce est decorum est”

                                            ~Wilfred Owen~

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.*

*It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country

Barred

Silence – her new mantra. Eyes tightly shut, she remains, pretending to be oblivious. People look at her, wonder at her silence, enquire about her health. They display concern, not knowing the reason for her muteness. They prescribe remedies and proscribe isolation. All as a measure of uselessness. None could find out the reason, none could bring her back to her former self. All efforts were spent in vain. One fine day, a little girl came by and repeated the same questions. They told her. She thought for a while. She smiled. She opened the latch of the cage and out flew the silent parrot, never to be silenced or caged again.

The Village By The Sea

                 A story that portrays the typicality of Indian fishing villages and families.

~Anita Desai~

             Here’s a story that tells Indians about the fishing villages and the daily struggles of our fishermen’s families. The story revolves around a family of four kids, of whom three are girls. The mother is bed ridden and the father is a typical drunkard. Therefore the livelihood of the family falls in the hands of the eldest, Lila (14 years) and her brother Hari who is a year younger.  Each page is a lively portrayal of their efforts to upbring their family’s standard.

            The beauty of this story lies in its factual details and the simplicity of the characters. Devoid of basic needs, the two children never give up their family. They uphold the traditions and support their family at all times. The author has done a remarkable job in depicting a village in a beautiful way that remains in the readers’ hearts .

Lila is a young girl, just trying her best to retain her description as a typical Indian girl. Her passion for saris and bangles reflect her interests and knowing she can’t get many, she does well to give up her wants for the sake of the family. Similarly Hari also works hard.  Not having a fixed job, he does anything he can. He ploughs a non-fertile land, he does fishing by the shore and he climbs coconut trees to sell the coconuts for money.

Besides the family story, the author also illustrates the effect of urbanization on a small fishing village, Thul. This is a story which looks to educate about the destruction of our villages in the name of industrialization.

Eye to eye

Whilst reading Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Books, something struck me as quite odd: none of the animals in the jungle could maintain eye contact with Mowgli, (man’s cub) for long. This was something I had never heard of before, so I decided to try it out for myself. I stared directly into a dog’s eyes and he broke contact shortly afterwards.

I wondered, maintaining eye contact was something that mankind had had trouble with for a long time. In a lot of poems (especially love poetry) we have witnessed the presence of this difficulty. Do animals share the same feeling?

Naturally, I was curious, so I sought the help of Google Search. I don’t know about wild animals but I discovered that it is dangerous to maintain eye contact with unknown dogs. (Thankfully, I experimented with my neighbour’s dog) Eye contact tends to trigger dogs into biting, which is why (researchers have proved) children get bitten by dogs.

While dogs consider it as provocation, mankind seems to think otherwise. From what I could find out, Japanese schools teach their students not to look at the teacher’s eyes. They are directed to look at the teacher’s Adam’s apple or tie knot during direct conversations. They consider looking directly into the eyes of a superior as a sign of disrespect. People of East Asia and Nigeria also consider it as a gesture of disrespect to look into the eyes of a superior.

The Western Culture, as always has a different view. There, a person who does not meet another’s eye is badly judged. Maintaining eye contact is more than we realize. People who have difficulty in meeting one’s eyes are likely to be affected by autistic disorders or social anxiety.

Apparently, studies aren’t confined to Engineering and Medicine, for the study of eye contact is referred to as ‘oculesics’. Research on eye contact reveals stunning results. It was definitely more than I anticipated.

Can’t think of a insulting-enough title

It was one of those boring days in class, when I was too idle to recognize what the teacher was saying. There I was, in the second bench (quite unfortunately) trying hard to keep my eyes open. I was doing well and suddenly, my teacher’s voice caught my attention. He pointed out a mistake in the text book of Tamil Nadu Text Book Corporation, (I thought experts wrote those books, how terribly wrong I was!) and told us to “follow the text book” because “the text book is very important for 12 STD”.

I’ve never heard of such absurdity. What kind of system encourages the students to follow a wrong guide? Definitely not the great kind.

I don’t know which is worse, having teachers knowledgeable enough to identify mistakes in the text books or having completely ignorant people who call themselves teachers.

I am still mystified as to why I didn’t have the guts to stand and question my teacher regarding this, but it was later that I realized that teachers preach us on what they were taught. They are just instruments who encourage false teachings just for the sake of numbers.

I recently read Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone. I was happy to see that Ryan opposed the system but I still couldn’t believe that he had to get into IIT to realize its uselessness! It took me less than a month to realize that the system is nothing less than crap!