XXXV Reality is not perception ?

Annie took in the sounds and energy of London, Bernstein was on his mobile phone talking to the Oxford University administration people, they had called, to give him updates and to also to find if everything they had arranged were in place, Annie and the Prof. were already in the car, on their way to The Hilton, as the Hilton car driver, who was incidentally an Indian, focused hard to manoeuvre the vehicle through the lashing rain, somehow the whole set of things happening around her acted like soft mnemonics, taking Annie’s mind to her native village, Buchireddypalem near Nellore, in the State of Andhra Pradesh, back in India, incidentally both her grand parents - both from her Father and her Mother’s side - hailed from the same location, albeit from 2 different villages, separated by just a few score kilometers, both sides of the families owned large tracts of agricultural land, considered the most fertile soil areas in South India, Nellore was located on the eastern bank of the river Pennar. Nellore had a number of things that set it apart from various other parts of Andhra Pradesh, one it was famous for its rich, aggressive, feudal agrarian landlords who had amassed so much tax free money that they not only had virtual stranglehold of the Andhra state’s political fortunes they were also huge migrants to the Americas, quite a few of them eventually became landlords owning big tracts of land in the US too. Annie was too cosmopolitan for many of the migrant Indians, especially the neo rich IT & Software clique, Annie hardly had any Indians in her circle, Daniel was an exception. But then Daniel too had long discarded his Indian identity, both Annie and Daniel wore their identities very loose, they never really bothered about it. Hardly found the need.        

Bernstein had finished his mobile phone conversation, smiled at Annie giving an indication that everything was fine and settled and then he told her that he had included some input on Blake , Coleridge and Wordsworth as a prelude to his presentation today. He then went on to outline the other additions he had made, a few on Aesthetics that included some new research on Edmund Burke, he had even included Annambhatta’s Tarkhasangraha to highlight certain aspects of Asian dialectics, as the Prof went about explaining to Annie, She in turn guessed that her mentor had hardly slept through the journey, She had a strong urge to find out if she had snored but thought against interrupting their ongoing conversation.

Bernstein was convinced that the field of Philosophy could find a huge amount of answers to many of its lasting problems, especially those pertaining to the need to bring a more holistic feel to Philosophy through the study of Literature, Art, Music and folk art in fact at Harvard, Bernstein had even redefined the University’s Philosophy Curriculum by adding a number different genres of art, literature and speculative Sciences as a part of the Masters program at the University. 

Among the reasons why the Prof. found Annie very special as a student and as a research Assistant. Her academic background had an interesting graph, that had a mix of Christian and Hindu archetypes study and then her shifting to a boarding School in Ooty and her later association with the likes of the Max Mueller Bhavan , the Alliance Francaise, her voracious appetite for all sorts of Literature- Indian, English, Russian, Spanish, African - her taste in Music – from Western Classical to Rock and African folk - her interest in Aesthetic art, Quantum Physics and Political economy had all made things perfect for Bernstein to take her into his wing and soon become her admirer – for her sheer energy and free will.       

Annie certainly held huge promise for the field of Philosophy. Harvard was certainly glad to have her with them.

Annie was now discussing with Bernstein the cognitive aspects of the views that were passing them as they drove through the English urban landscape, the images they could see from the frosted car windows, and how, they both viewed each of the images they were seeing; To her the world outside seemed to be rushing backwards like they were caught in a flood or like they were thrown out of an aircraft, to Bernstein the whole thing looked stationary and slow in their motions. Reality and the perception of reality were such contrasting occurrences. Cognition wasn’t a free bird, it was clouded and enslaved by a huge number of factors. Under such complexity how would one derive reality ? two people sitting in the same car, viewing at similar images, almost at the same instant still had starkly differing views of what they saw. Annie knew that f they had a 3^rd person sharing the cab that person would have had a completely different view and if they added a child of say 3 years the reality for the child would have been something that the 3 other adults would just not have connected with.  

Annie’s thesis at the Harvard was an attempt to redefine certain aspects of Burke and Kant and the Theory of Human Perception. She was also assisting a few other researchers working on subjects as varied as Dementia and Blind rage and a new theory on certain cognitive dissonances and Personality disorders that had already created a huge buzz in the Philosophy and Psychology circles.

“ So Bernie what do you see ? Are you really seeing ?

No I’m not. Really.         

So Why aren’t you seeing / or are you lying ?

Bernie gave out a smile and turned to face Annie and reply to her taunt  

“Burke had once said that “Infinity has a tendency to fill the mind with a delightful horror" and then connected the idea of ‘Good’ perception to what he had called ‘efficient causes’ but Annie let’s remember that the world has long since lost its symphony , we’ve become so dissonant, what we see as a deluge of visual carcass moving backwards is but a rejection by your unconscious mind of what you see – the dissonance is painful and so wants to quickly discard the visual and seek a new visual and continue to do so until it finds some point to settle’

Annie wasn’t someone to let go of a good argument, so she replied

If what you say is true, Bernie, then the only visual that a human mind would accept without dissonance will be visuals that have nature or those that are close to nature, so do you mean to say that anything man made is dissonant ?  is every human creation factually some kind of a destruction? In essence you are harking back to the days of Plato, Aristotle and maybe the Taliban by rejecting the idea of art as ‘ugly’ ?

She paused, She knew she had him cornered, Bernstein paused before replying, making sure this time he had Annie directly under his piercing gaze –

“Listen, when the surrealists started the talk of Art for Arts’ sake, their treatise of dilettantism and the talk of deliberate destruction of the senses the world of creative protagonists roared their disapproval, condemned Dali and friends calling them Artistic pseudo masochists, they said what they were doing was creative Sodomy, they spent endless volumes to argue and kill the idea of derangement thinking that was the right thing to do but what many of those like Sartre or Camus or Beauvoir or even say Ibsen, who were themselves desolate but I feel they could not accept what was clearly a statement of the end of all things creative, the end of the idea of purity, at least until the world woke up to the likes of Beckett and Kafka , most of us were oblivious, to the fact that the world of true art had already fallen”

    

Bernstein shifted so that he could look at Annie more directly and then continued “ Annie, look around you? do you see purity ? of creation ? anywhere , any place ? what you see are all the creations of a world that only knows ‘art for arts sake’, everything that you see are deliberate creations, the lines, the circles, the angles, nothing out there is pure, and deep inside, your cognitive mind as it evolves , it matures, and develops ‘intuitivity’ , the idea of sublime and the beautiful has by then found a mystique touchstone that’s different from these man made designs and then it starts rejecting everything it sees ”  

Annie waited to assimilate what Bernstein was saying and then looking directly at her mentor said ‘ Sounds so much like the language of the Continental Philosophers, Bernie, is there a world out there that is pre ordained, pre designed ? and is primordiality the only sense of form and aesthetics? Have we been wasting time ? evolving, building ? Annie looked around and indicated the outside world when she said that. Maybe for just taking forward the argument I'll partially accept that existentialism ended up romanticising human ingenuity and the likes of Sartre, Camus or even Beckett and Kafka did not eventually expect Creativity as a pure form of human artistic output to die and in its place put a more synthetic something, that way maybe Nietzsche and Husserl were exceptionally far sighted, but it still is difficult to accept that human cognitive faculties lives and prefers a primordial city and it refuses to accept say an Al Burj tower but would be glad to accept the view of a simple Oak tree and Uncle Sam's barns outside California".

Bernstein nodded, as a signal of his assertion that that's what he meant, mentally acknowledging the brilliance of his student to have so easily assimilated such a complex theory. And then was about to say something more but stopped noticing that Annie had her eyes closed and she was about to say something. Annie opened her eyes and using a softer tone that was almost reflective said -   

“We will need specific analytics that can support such a premise, otherwise it would be rejected as convoluted’ completed Annie even as she admired the brilliance of the premise. Bernie nodded, an indication that he did have something in place, ‘ all we need is to look beyond Russell and Wittgenstein and we’ll get some of what we are looking for’ and gave a smile , Annie laughed, She knew Bernstein was joking. How can you forget the father of Analytics and logic and build a new logic? Absurd she muttered to herself even as she continued smiling. 

Just then the driver said they were nearing the Hotel.

It was like talking music without Beethoven and Bach ! And that’s exactly what she was treated to, as soon as they stepped into the Hilton Hotel.

Annie walked in, the theatre just had a number of dark, unknown heads seated and looking straight on, the stage was lit just right, on the stage they had 2 musicians , Annie guessed, they were Bach and Beethoven standing on either side of their own Orchestra troupe, ready with their batons – all they expected was for Annie to snap her fingers for them to take off. She waited until she was ushered in and shown her seat, she stood straight and without a lapse ‘snapped her finger’ – and the music blew her off from her seat.

Annie frowned at her own little child like imagination, music seemed to have that thing in it, it brought the child in her. She looked around , Englishmen and Women, they loved to live a life that’s well “hidden” she thought as she saw most them talking in hushed tones and walk past with their wooden looks even as the front desk gave them a practiced yet pleasant welcome smile. 

Bach and Beethoven went about with their own overtures. Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor. Rendered by the Royal Philharmonic, supervised by Yehudi Menuhin?

Anyone ?   

thesocratespot: XXXIV Oxford & the blue blood of Bernstein

thesocratespot: XXXIV Oxford & the blue blood of Bernstein: Annie’s mind was still with Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake she had no idea when she had slept but whenever it was it was bliss, but now she w...

XXXIV Oxford & the blue blood of Bernstein

Annie’s mind was still with Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake she had no idea when she had slept but whenever it was it was bliss, but now she was being gently woken by someone, she moved aside one part of her eye patch and looked with a single eye and realised it was Prof. Bernstein, gently tapping her on her shoulder and when he saw she had finally responded he just moved his mouth without a sound but she could make out the words ‘Bon Jour’, Prof. Bernstein often loved going into French and Spanish once a while just to add a bit of colour to his conversations, Annie smiled and replied Oh! Its morning already? Where are we ? have we already reached ? the questions came slow but they followed each other and Annie was taking efforts to talk in a low tone, the Prof. was looking out of the aircraft Window and spoke without looking at Annie that they were about to land and that the news about the weather at London wasn’t very good and that their aircraft had to undertake multiple sorties over Heathrow before getting the direction to land.  

For Annie, all that didn’t really matter, for her Oxford beckoned. They were to stay at the Hilton near Oxford, the conference was to be held at the T.S. Elliot Lecture theatre inside the Merton College, an institution whose history dates back to the 13^th Century, the event was part of a series known as the John Locke lectures and what Annie was told by the Prof. was that the Oxford University was celebrating the Golden Jubilee of the John Locke series this year and Prof. Bernstein was also the Honourable Chief Guest for the event , a rare honour usually reserved for Heads of only the European Schools of Philosophy, but an exception was made, since the Prof was at the forefront of developing and bringing several Schools of Philosophy and Thought under one roof.

The guest list at the event included Harry Frankfurt, Noam Chomsky, Amartya Sen, Thomas Friedman, Orhan Pamuk , Rushdie and a few more luminaries of Philosophy, Psychology, Literature, Journalism , Economics and Cognitive Sciences from all over the world.  

Annie was looking forward to spending some time at the Cambridge University, her previous Alma mater, She was hoping to catch up with some old research colleagues and some of her past gurus at Cambridge and discuss some specific research information on Hume and Hegel. Annie also hoped to maybe drive down to Cotswold if She had the time. 

The Prof. had his own plans and had told her that he would want some freedom from her once the Conference and Dinner was done, Annie had just smiled and not given a clear commitment.

The aircraft finally landed, London seemed wet like hell, it was pouring so hard the noise managed to permeate even through the sound proof aircraft, the BA hostess had given them all the necessary help, Annie was glad Dan had included a couple of warm clothing accessories while packing her stuff, a good long woollen overcoat that also had a hood and gloves, even if she had forgotten to mention it to him, Annie mentally thanked her luck – she expected everything to move with precision, priority luggage check out, priority immigration process, quick pick up at the Airport and priority Check in at the Hotel – these were ‘given’ when you travelled with Prof. Carl Bernstein - Executive Director & Chairperson of The Society for Phenomenology and Existential Philosophy, USA and the Head of various Congressional Committees working on updates and amendments required to be carried to the American Constitution relating to Rights, Liberty, Freedom and Justice in an increasingly digital Universe, Prof. Bernstein was also a personal advisor to The president of The United States of America on various matters of International Conflict and Neo Political thought.

Beneath the geniality and general mirth, packed in a 5'8" mildly surplus frame, Prof. Carl Bernstein was a very serious man, and he had those looks too, still had thick hair above his head, a piercing eye - made laser like - by his thick progressive glass, a round face with a thin mouth that was capable of sharp, hurting sarcasm when provoked. He had a reasonably good sense of dressing and a great sense of humor. He was brought up on a menu of liberal American thinking, but oddly was a Republican. 

Bernstein was born into a family of Academicians with a long, successful political and artistic lineage, the Prof.’s family DNA included some past American President and one of the Kennedy sisters as a part of their blue blood,  Prof. Bernstein’s family had a history of successful Senators from Massachusetts including one of America's rare few lady Senator, the current, who was his Mother. Bernstein's Father was no more. He had 2 elder brothers serving as bureaucrats, one was in fact the American C-D-A in Pakistan.     

Bernstein believed that the human psyche was a conglomeration of different types of zones, starting from the macro level Cognitive mind to the micro level zone of hunger and sex. Many of his early papers brought out this belief through topics like Love, Freedom , Liberty and Materialism that eventually became cult classics in the field of not just Philosophy but even in the field of art, literature, psychology and Economics. Prof. Bernstein believed that the various Schools of Philosophy across the world were unnecessarily moving in isolation to each other, especially the Analytic Philosophy School, The School of Continental Philosophy and the Frankfurt School, he also felt that the other faculties like the Quantum Sciences, Anthropology, Environment, Economics, Literature, Management and even Justice should start collaborating their research with the field of Philosophy and last but not the least Prof. Bernstein also felt there had to be a strong central body that could bind all the World Schools of Philosophy under one roof.

Prof. Bernstein was a potential Noble Laureate and an OBE in waiting for a while now. 

thesocratespot: XXXIII Tchaikovsky & Martini on an Airbus

thesocratespot: XXXIII Tchaikovsky & Martini on an Airbus: Annie waved at Daniel a final bye and then sat in the cab, turned towards Prof. Carl Bernstein, in a way she glad to see him, she gave a...

XXXIII Tchaikovsky & Martini on an Airbus

Annie waved at Daniel a final bye and then sat in the cab, turned towards Prof. Carl Bernstein, in a way she was glad to see him, she gave a tired smile and a quick hug simultaneously, the Prof. too gave a wry smile, that almost reflected a sign of relief and mumbled his Hellos as he extended his arm to allow Annie her light hug, they both then quietened a bit and shifted to their individual corners of the cab, as it hummed on its way to the Boston International airport on their way to London. Annie tried her best to look normal but she knew the effects of the anaesthesia in the afternoon and all the drinking and drugging the past few days after the ugly Richard split continued to have an effect on her general energy levels, but otherwise she was feeling good, having discarded her unwanted egg safely. In fact the feeling was mixed, she guessed all women felt the same when they went in for an abortion, a bit blue , sad, full of regrets and remorse. Dr. Allen and Rachel had counselled her well even before they wheeled her into the theater  they had tried their best to keep her humoured and smiling, but once She had regained her consciousness after the surgical operation – even if it was relatively a quick procedure, she thought, the pain was a bit more than what she was prepared to take, it singed, the areas where they had run the laparoscopic whipper – She found herself feeling a bit strange and how will you put it ? a bit weird actually, even if this wasn’t her first time, She continued to feel a bit ‘misplaced’ a bit out of bounds even as she smiled at Dan when he had walked in to see her , a little after she had gained her consciousness. She wondered if there were women out their who would walk out of an abortion theater and say Hey! Let’s party! I have killed the baby!         

Annie smiled again to herself and then once again became conscious about the presence of her mentor and guide Prof. Bernstein in the cab, in a way She was glad that she was travelling, British Airways, first class, so she would get a good 7-8 hours rest, since the flight they had booked was hopping through New York. Prof. Bernstein continued looking at Annie sensing she wanted to be left alone just to make her feel a bit more relaxed he opened her a bit asking her some inane questions like if she had made sure she had packed all the stuff required for the seminar and whether she was prepared to walk straight into Oxford after landing. She smiled and assured him not to worry and then opened her laptop and handed it over to him to help him go through the presentation that she had ready for the next day at the Oxford University where they were both were to take part in a inter University conference ‘Contemporary Philosophy and Neo Phenomenology’. The organisers of the conference, which included senior academicians from all over Europe also planned to fete Prof. Carl Bernstein with a post conference dinner at the famed University Club on his extensive contribution to the field of Phenomenology.    

For Annie, it was a great opportunity to be getting a chance to rub shoulders with some of the greatest contemporary thinkers of the world through this conference, not bad for a young woman whose roots were in India, that too from a place as oblivious to Philosophy as Mettiguda. Actually, even if She were a resident of Mettiguda, She wasn’t really a complete part of the locality’s backwardness, She came from a pretty well to do family – at least by Indian standards – her father, Hon. Dr. Abraham Ezekiel was an authority on Comparitive Indian and Colonial Literature, who taught and carried out Research at the Osmania University, who later took over the prestigious position as Dean and Head of the elite American Studies Research Centre, ASRC, located inside the same campus. Dr. Ezekiel was also a well known film historian with an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of World Cinema and an endearing authority on Film Aesthetics and the art of Cinematography,  whose lectures - on any subject - that he took were sought after by many of the young, knowledge hungry students at the University.     

Dr. Ezekiel’s was sought after even at the Central Institute of English and Foreign Languages, CIEFL, a University neighbouring Osmania University as well as the Hyderabad Central University, where he was often invited to assist students pursuing Journalism and Mass Communications on the nuances of various new broadcasting technology mediums. Needless to say Dr. Ezekiel was a well traveled man.    

Annie’s mother was also a well read and academically well qualified woman, Yamini Ezekiel, She was hindu, who had no qualms in taking on a Christian name when she got married to Abraham, both were alumnis of the century old Osmania University and both shared their love of Cinema, Literature and surprisingly religion. Yamini, Annie’s mother was completing her Mphil. on the Literary aspects of the Bible. While also being employed as the Vice Principal at the local Santiniketan School, where she had joined more because of her love to educate the not so privileged young minds who could barely afford the school.

Annie woke up, she had dozed off, the cab had reached the airport, they quickly completed all formalities, Prof. Carl Bernstein was a well known traveller, so the authorities at the Airport did some brisk work when they saw him, as it often happens whenever one meets familiar people at work, soon they were off , in between the Prof. asked Annie what software application she had used for the presentation? She said Adobe, Indesign, he smiled, glad it was not a powerpoint. Which Annie knew he hated. 

Annie thought she would be snoring into the ears of the Prof. once they sat on their plush Business Class seats of the brand new Airbus complete with leg rest and bed and a welcome drink – Annie, shriveled, her lean body shook a bit as she rubbed her palms a bit, just to express pleasure and sat down for the long trans-atlantic journey.

The music playing was Tchaikovsky’s Swan lake. Strings chasing, fragile flutes through clean, clear strokes, just right for Annie’s state of mind. She accepted a welcome Martini and simply lost herself into the music imagining every bit of the musical by Zubin Mehta that she had seen along with Daniel at the Broadway a few weeks ago.

Suddenly Annie felt She was waltzing on her toes and the moonlit sky outside was her stage. She was just floating and felt she was flying higher and higher as she stretched her hands and pirouetted through a bluish black sky with a thousand strings and a lone flute for company.     

Annie felt she was ready for something more from life. Something more than just something. 

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: XXXII The Ocean Promenade

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: XXXII The Ocean Promenade: thesocratespot: XXXII The Ocean Promenade : Danny smiled to himself, he was back at his New York flat driving from Boston, he was sitting ou...

thesocratespot: XXXII The Ocean Promenade

thesocratespot: XXXII The Ocean Promenade: Danny smiled to himself, he was back at his New York flat driving from Boston, he was sitting out watching the seagulls and sipping coffee...

XXXII The Ocean Promenade

Danny smiled to himself, he was back at his New York flat driving from Boston, he was sitting out watching the seagulls and sipping coffee as his mind brought back memories of that nightmare Sunday when he had fallen into the well that was a part of their apartment blocks’ backyard he was amused that he could see almost every person detail so vividly, even the way the older boys managed to take him out of the well, the commotion as they managed to step out of the well with him on their shoulders and then eventually 4-6 boys carrying him like a log and one of them asking where the hell’s this kids house? And just then Bobby who was transfixed to the spot shouting to them that he knew, someone wanted to know if Danny was alive? Danny was the one who shouted back saying “Yes! I am ! I am Alive!”. 

Soon the posse reached Danny’s house where they saw my father’s friend Arvind, wearing his customary stoll, kurta and jeans opening the door with a look of agitation, Daniel’s parents Mohan and Sarsu too rushed in, he noticed the look of shock had drained the blood out of their face, Stella, Daniel’s sister too came out of the kitchen were she was helping out Sarsu, the older boys who were carrying Daniel quickly explained what had happened, Dan’s mom noticed that he had his eyes open and then tried speaking to him Dan wanted to assure them all that he was alright but the sounds around were so cacophonic he just gave up that attempt and soon passed out.

Reflecting on the incident the adult Dan now sitting outside his 12^th floor, Brooklyn, New York, apartment, Ocean Promenade, was wondering as to why and how this memory from the deep side of his childhood had suddenly cropped up - now - into his head, why now? He muttered? What’s the significance ? he continued muttering as he noticed a group of gulls making out some truly amazing manoeuvres over silvery blue waters of the ocean that looked more like a floating city of Noah from the book of Genesis with the boats and yachts bobbing up and down, forward and backward or creating patterns on the water as they sailed, Why now? Dan wondered. But he couldn't any immediate answers. 

But the one thing that Dan knew about the incident is how later on in his life he had come to use the incident, the old water well increasingly came to symbolise to Dan his country India, the decadent wall, the shallowness of the water, the rusty pump, the toads, the mud, the slush, the frenzied crowds, everything about the old water well eventually came to represent India.    

New York was bright and sunny, the radio from Dan’s drawing room was playing a Reo Speedwagon song, he liked the group, Dan placed his coffee mug on the coffee table and then walked to pick up his guitar and then walked back to the balcony, he sat down and started strumming and singing, there was a woman at the far end of the apartment block also standing out on her balcony and looking down in Danny’s direction, Danny chose to sing Dan Fogelberg wasn’t really focussed in doing justice, he was strumming and almost shouting out the song, generally getting into the rhythm, the New York sky looked brilliant in its blue and white spread, the nimbus clouds especially had turned out wearing their best shapes, it was windy and the world outside seemed giggling and laughing and honking their way through the day.  

Danny knew he had a long day ahead, he was hoping to utilise the free time in hand to start on his musical based on Shelley's Prometheus Unbound , he smiled to himself as he thought about the way the musical would end up when it was combined with a byronesque undertone, "will turn out to be whacky" he muttered to himself and smiled even broader as his mind ticked off the other things he had to finish for the day, he had to file his reports, and had to book to his tickets to Bolivia and maybe drive down to the office for a meeting, his trip to Bolivia was to unearth the truth of the situation emerging in that part of the world, there were rumours of a conflict brewing in the country, Danny wondered why was it that it was always the older parts of the world that had seen civilisation for thousands of years that were perennially in conflict? And why was it that the newer parts that were hardly 200 -300 odd years old that were comparatively at peace, is it that the older a civilisation the more bitter its differences ? the more sharp its divide? What has age got to do with conflicts? Dan was an International Political and Economic Affairs Correspondent currently engaged with Reuters. He was actually a ‘Conflict Zone’ political analyst and specialist who loved covering news and events from the most dangerous parts of the world - Bosnia, Serbia, Rwanda, Palestine, Ecuador, Afghanistan - he had done them all, he was considered a rare talent in the field of International Journalism and had even been awarded as a young and emerging International Journalist by an International group of Journalists specialised in War zone journalism.

He had started off as a freelancer more to fund his days spent roaming the world, often accompanied by Bobby, so they would deliberately choose to travel to these troubled areas, grab some pictures, write some notes and send them across to some of his friends working for the Times London or the New York Times, they would then help him sell the pictures and wire him back some money. But soon what started as a casual effort at survival became Daniel’s profession. While Bobby ended up working for the UNPKF. And he was now able to live off it, quite comfortably, even if it meant he had to tread some of the worst known parts of the world, and that too at short notice, and without much of a cover or security back up – like the politicians loved to travel - for him it was a passion and risking his life to unearth the essence of a conflict is something he had come to enjoy from his childhood, from the days he fell into the well, so it didn’t really matter.       

Dan stood up and leaned on his balcony wall and kept strumming and singing, he was wearing a thin cotton cargo short and a thin , almost transparent, loose floral print shirt that was flapping wild because of the wind, his unwashed hair was also being hurled on all sides because of the wind, he occasionally kept looking at the figure from the other side of the block who was still looking in his direction and then looked out at the sprawled out ocean, everything seemed fine in life.  

The mobile phone was ringing. Dan was too immersed and so couldn’t hear for a while but when the ring persisted the sound managed to reach him and then he stepped in to pick it up – he turned it around to check the ID of the caller – It was Annie, from the other side of the Atlantic, or had she returned? he had read news about the weather at London. Wasn't very good. the Thames was overflowing, some parts of London were reported to be flooded, London was experiencing its worst weather in a century. 

Daniel flicked the answer key right on his Samsung and then said Hello? Annie ?  

XXXI - Shelley's rant

U  think I lost control?

I just got pushed

In

And you know what ?

The 'well' seriously wasn’t too deep

I saw the rubber cricket ball hit first

Then float, pushing all lives around

Into an unexpected ripple

They were already scared

That’s when I landed

Splash, kaboom

Soon I realised

The water wasn’t really deep

I hit the dirt

I could soon walk

But, then I saw a hoard of

Nara simhas

Falling over each other to rescue me

I said , Hey!

I’m alright !

But they still insisted

I be rescued.

I thought, it’s the well

That needed

Rescuing.  

I could have walked out

Without sweat.

But the morons

They wouldn’t let.

thesocratespot: XXX The Daniel Rap

thesocratespot: XVIII The Daniel Rap:

Step by step
 I ran I lose
i ran I close
Step by step  
step by step 
So I  ran I lost
I lost I ran
step by step
step by step...

thesocratespot: IXXX The Daniel Rap

thesocratespot: XVIII The Daniel Rap: Step by step I ran I lose i ran I close Step by step   So I  ran I lost I lost I ran I ran I close Step by step   ...

XXVIII The Daniel Rap

Step by step

I ran I lose i ran I close

Step by step  

step by step 

So I  ran I lost

I lost I ran

step by step step by step 

I ran I close

i close i ran 

Step by step

step by step  

I lost

I ran

Step by step

Step by step

thesocratespot: XXVII voice of the dead

thesocratespot: XXVII voice of the dead: Listen I’m under the cloud this dark cloud above I’m under the cloud Above the dark cloud Is the fan I’m under ...

XXVII voice of the dead

Listen

I’m under the cloud

this dark cloud above

I’m under the cloud

Above the dark cloud

Is the fan

I’m under

The fan

thesocratespot: XXVI Daniel's auction

thesocratespot: XXVI Daniel's auction: So  who wants my arm ? Who wants my legs ? Who wants my eye ? Who wants my heart ? Who wants my brain? Who wants m...

XXVI Daniel's auction

So 

who wants my arm ?

Who wants my legs ?

Who wants my eye ?

Who wants my heart ?

Who wants my brain?

Who wants me ?

XXV the douche bag

It wasn’t a pleasant sight seeing a small limp boy held in the arms of 3 despicable rogues, Arvind knew a few of them, for he was their manipulator, he was confused, for he had not asked his boys to bring Daniel wet and looking drowned.  

XXIV the outsiders

‘Coz they were the usual suspects, Arvind opened the door with an intention to chuck the disliked intruders – without much courtesy – but when he opened the door, the scene wasn’t what he thought it would be.

XXIII Who?

Arvind was the one who was the closest to the door , he, like everybody else in the room, looked at the door like it was some ‘burglar attack’, the group joined Arvind in his reaction, as he cursed and rushed towards the door ( everyone in the group condemned the audacity of those who had rang the bell and knocked at the door in such an uncivilised and crude manner ) all of them expected a cheap books sales pitch gang or a fish sales woman or some religious promotion group or an apartment neighbour’s wife with a special serving of her ‘Sunday food’ to be the perpetrators of such an intrusion - the ringing and knocking suddenly seemed very purposeful - it was a reaction, based on past events.

XXII The bell

Mr. James Mohandas Jesudasan, Danny’s father, was deeply immersed expounding some of his pet political views with some of the guest gathered at his small single bedroom apartment,  they were all sitting on a row of old, rusty aluminium chair that he had picked from the second hand flea market that often came up near the Mettiguda Church, every Sunday. Daniel’s mother Sarasuamma had put some boiled peanuts and some other fried stuff on a small table close by.

He was lean, short, a bit shabbily dressed and was approaching to be 35, he still looked young, was still very idealistic and an extremely well read man for his age.  Mr. Jesudasan held views that were considered radical for his modest, middle class background – the Indian middle class in the eighties was hugely different from the idea of an American middle class, the Indian middle class was still largely a class that could hardly afford anything good in life, they struggled most of their life and retired poorer even after putting 30 or 40 years of real hard work – the pious Christians around Mettiguda thought that Mr. Jesudasan was an atheist and spoke the language of the anti Christ, since he hardly attended the Sunday mass and often argued with the parish. But he was also known to be a man with a huge heart and tremendous generosity – qualities that were also a part of Daniel when he grew up.

To a certain extent the society’s feelings about Mohandas wasn’t far from the truth, he wasn’t really religious and had no reservations to air his views on the holy bible freely, most of the times they weren’t very holy or pleasant for the more devout – but they had to grudgingly give in to one fact - Jesudasan knew more details about the Genesis or the Bible or even many aspects of the Hindu scriptures and Buddhist philosophy than most people living in Mettiguda. Jesudasan could fluently speak in 7-8 native Indian languages and was quite an authority of English language and literature - but Sarsuamma felt his English grammar sometimes sucked, but, James often blamed it on lethologica.  

Mr. Jesudasan’s source of knowledge did not just come from being a graduate of Literature at the Govt. Victotia College, Palakkad, in the state of Kerala, he was also a fiery Student leader espousing the ideas of Karl Marx, it had also been honed by being exposed to friends he had who were hippies and roadies with whom he had spent large amounts of time before he had been married , Danny had heard vague information about his father having run away to the Rajneesh Ashram at Poona when he was a little younger – just when he had miserably flunked in his 12^th grade – and stayed away from his ancestral house in Palakkad for over 4-5 years.

His true source, his fountainhead of sorts, was his wife Sarsuamma.

Mohan and Sarsuamma in fact met in Pune before they got married. 

She was a student of Contemporary Eastern philosophy, they often met and discussed Jiddu, UG, Aurobindo and Tagore at length. Of course they fell in love even if they weren’t sure if it was just their knowledge they admired or the fierce sexual energy they shared or the love of world cinema that they enjoyed at the film institute, Pune or the fact that both could play the guitar ( in fact Mohan could play several other instruments, he was a trained carnatic music vocalist ) and shared their love of music that ranged from the Indian classical , bollywood, tamil, Malayalam, Western Classical and rock music – Danny would later think that they had more than one reason to fall in love and equally enough reasons to slug it out, the violence that they sometimes displayed also seemed to express a sense of hatred so deep, it could only come out of people lost in love, a love of everything that they believed in , everything they stood for.  

Mohan was currently also pursuing his Masters in World History and Comparative literature from the local Osmania University, through evening classes. Most of the friends Mohan, as his wife called him, invited home were from his academic fields, Mr. Jesudasan did have friends in the railways, where he was employed, but they were hardly invited home. Sarsu, as Mohan called her, was also pursuing her Phd., Danny wasn’t sure what her thesis was, but it had something to do with a differentiation between Western and Eastern political thought, she had already completed her Mphil. in Political Science from Pune University.

Mr. Jesudasan was also a short tempered, volatile man capable of sudden bursts of extreme temper that would have him using his vocal chords with such ferocity and native filth that the entire apartment block feared him, everytime they crossed him walking up or down the apartment staircase. Mohan's anger would be known to the entire apartment block once he started his old Fiat Millicento, gifted to him by his brother , a Lt.Colonel in the army. 

James was the only man who had a car in Mettiguda railway quarters, those days. The car often needed 8 people to push and start it. The car incidentally also had a music system and an innovation to carry bicycles and stuff. 

Sarusamma was loved by the whole apartment, they even admired her when she smoked once a while. She was one of those few, in fact the only who wore blue faded jeans, thin cotton top, cut her hair short and could walk with any man who was her friend, with the least amount of consciousness.  

Sundays were always special for the group , that was the day when a select group of Mohan’s friends met to discuss some play they were collaborating on or simply discuss matters of art, philosophy or literature. Once a while the discussion involved whisky and rum.

“What we have today that we call a country is what we in our literary terms would call a mixture of Dickensian England and Kafkan despotism. Then he stood up and gestured with his fingers back there pointing to his backyard, were we have the not so privileged living in conditions so appalling and embarrassing it is as ugly as the roguish New York of the 19^th century. Our country is abound with the Jekylls and Hydes and Fagins and Olivers manipulated by hundreds of thousands of murderous, barbaric feudal megalomaniacs hiding behind masks of Gandhian khadi and pseudo socialism that they thrust on a near zombie land” – said Mr. Jesudasan as friends of his just smiled and nodded in consent. But Sarsuamma who was in the kitchen wasn’t taking it so easy, she came out, with her apron, knee length skirt, hands stuck with dough and wheat chaff, her hair dishevelled, a roti roller in one of her hand and bare foot.  

She was charged when she stepped out of the kitchen and faced the hall where all the men were seated, with no hesitation, she threw her view to the group sitting in the hall “We are the people to be blamed for what this country has turned out to be , We’ve betrayed this country , all of you, and me, (she included) are as good as the dogs, bitches and pigs of Mettiguda. India and Indians have chosen to plunge into a space where indignity is but a fact of life - to openly defecate around Parliament and then war over who would get to eat the shit – and we sit around our homes and discuss Hume, Locke, Marx, Gandhi , Botha and Mandela when what is needed is you going to the streets, going to the village, the mandals, the rural hinterlands of India and building India’s democracy”.  

Sarsu stopped, seeing one of her friends from Pune , Arvind, a young politician belonging to the CPI ( ML) who was also in the group standing up to put in his rejoinder to what She had said – Sarsu, listen its not easy as you think, the situation in the country is such that we can’t just walk out there and do what you say we’ve to do, the system out there has a huge vested interest not to allow such things, you will be termed anti national and killed in no time!” – he shrugged his shoulders, looked at her in all honesty and sat down.

Sarsu was not convinced, She said “Shame on you Arvind, coming from you its painful, We’ve allowed clans and dynasties to re-emerge, allowed our governance learn the art to stifle life, stifle voices and find joy in making sure the life at the bottom of the well was hell” and all we do is bring forward our fear of death ?

Just then the whole group were suddenly stopped short of their dialectic. They heard a urgent knock on their door and the door bell too rang with urgency. 

XXI Existential Sunday, near death

Danny stepped out on his Sunday routine as usual, all of just about 3’, the apartment sounded like a a dozen steam locomotive engines furiously hissing to start all at once, such was the effect, that came from the 20 odd kitchens that invariably had a combination of steam rice cookers and milk cookers set up to cater to all the family members expectations for lunch on a busy Sunday morning, a few houses also had their radio blaring, through that din Danny's young mother called out saying they were expecting guests so he had to be back soon and he also had to make sure not to dirty his dress, she clearly also asked him to stay away from the ground and to play with friends closeby, but by the time Dan’s mother had finished her bit, Danny was already out, he started his day first at Vanaja’s home, he was made to feel special when they complimented him for his looks and style, Vanaja even caught hold him squeezed his cheeks and gave him a kiss but he couldn’t spend much time since he saw Vanaja was busy cooking, and so was Indra - Vanaja's younger sister who was then preparing for her SSLC - all the others at her place were also more or less occupied, so he ran out and went up the staircase to the corner where the girls were playing , he hugged and kissed a few of them even as they protested and cursed him, he hung around for a while watching them paint themselves using cheap lipsticks and crayons but he soon itched for the outdoors and so left the girls - without a courtesy bye - and reached the ground; The sight he saw was unbelievable, it was swarming, with action.

The heat, the activity, the sound, the frenzy, the action, the dust sent Danny’s heart pumping, the backdrop included a cacophony of bollywood music. Danny opened up his shirt, as he had seen many older boys doing before, exposed his white inner vest and rushed in screaming, a few adult boys slapped him behind Danny's his head as he ran, seemed like a ritual because Danny just didn’t mind, in fact he just tried pushing their hands away playfully and kept running until he came face to face with Bobby who was already around helping some elderly boys set up their cricket Stumps, soon the boys whom they were helping sent them packing as they were about to start their match.

Shortly, they were running all round, staying bit by bit at different game sections, a little bit where the big boys were Gambling, a bit where others were fighting it out with their pigeons, a while at the football corner, some time watching some boys playing on the Carom board, then they chased a few dogs, tried holding onto a kite that came falling down ( the poor kite tore into pieces almost as soon it reached the ground since too many boys were trying to hold it simultaneously) they, Danny and Bobby, just went round and round enjoying everything they saw, they even smelt the fruity smell of Godamba the country liquor and took in the rich smell of tobacco smoke wafting from that part of the ground, Danny and Bobby hoped one day they too would grow up and try the hard liquor and smoke that rich tobacco they saw the big boys smoking.

Invariably they soon landed near the big water well and went about chasing each other running around the well, it was then that Danny noticed, through a corner of his eye, that there were a few girls who had managed to reach the terrace of their apartment block and they were all watching the happenings at the ground with great interest. That’s when Danny decided it was time to show off a bit of dare devilry, so thinking he was up on the wall of the well and walking on it with his hand spread wide, now the wall of this well wasn't the most evenly structured through out its periphery, even the big boys often had to tread pretty carefully to avoid falling over, Danny’s bravado was noticed by some big boys playing close by and they warned him to get down and scoot, in reality Danny wasn't really the dare devil type, in fact he feared the dark, and was never the type to argue or pick a fight, not that he was a coward, its just  that he was not that 'overtly macho type' , at least not yet, he preferred running around, climbing on trees, jumping from small heights and stuff like that - what he was not good at is the more rougher stuff. 

More often when the other small boys or even the girls, when they were angry with some of his pranks, caught him by the hair or identified him for a fight he would invariably be the one to get really hurt and if there were a referee watching a fight between Danny and an opponent giving him the thugs then it wouldn't have taken too much time for the referee to stop the fight and quickly declare Danny as clear the loser of the fight before getting mauled. The other reason could be the fact that Danny was a small in size, then, even in comparison to the boys and girls of his age and thin too. 

But give Danny a chance to run, or climb or jump or do any such thing - he had no equals. 

Which's probably the reason why he was also getting a bit used to being the ‘entertainer’ around, it was both a defensive action to hide some his more physical limitations while at the same time keep himself relevant among his friends. Danny enjoyed the attention that came along when he indulged on actions that bordered on the risky, while inside him his heart pounded , he continued pushing his luck just to get those admiring looks and compliments from people around. 

Danny looked up once more and was happy to note that he had managed to get the attention of a few girls from the terrace , he kept his great trapeze act going, he would walk a bit , pause a bit, look up, ensure he had an audience and then walk again, during one of his pause he took a peep down into the well, at first he thought he would find a lion waiting inside as his mother had told him, but found none, it was a wide well, with a  wall made of bricks that were once red,  they were now covered with thick black and green moss, some parts of the well had grown thick shrubs of the banyan and the peepal like bonsais, the water beneath looked dark and dirty, Danny could see frogs, Dragon flies and some ghost like insects that made ripples as they moved, there was also a small flattened iron platform like structure a few feet above the water level of the well , the Railway water supply department had fixed a water pump, rusty and old, and they had a big 10” size pipe connected to it , a part of the pipe went down and disappeared into the well and another part leapt upwards and then went on its way to some part outside the ground. 

Danny kept his eye both at his audience and once a while at the other boys playing cricket, the bollywood songs too were on, with one of Danny's favorite number from the movie DON playing, Bobby by now was a bit tired and so had crouched on the ground with his back to Danny watching the excitement in front of him, Danny had now reached that part of the Water well’s wall that had a big portion broken during the monsoons, so one had to squat down and get a good grip with both hands to cross it, as Danny made his moves a boy came rushing chasing a ball, the ball was about to go through the gap where Danny was located, the big boy gave out a bark , even as he was trying gather his breath, asking Danny to move out of the way, the small rubber ball with which the boys played cricket was now almost about to fall into the well, Danny thought he could help so he stretched his one hand to stop the ball and just then the boy chasing the ball came and collided onto Danny and that was it – Danny fell head long into the well , the rubber cricket ball hit the water first.      

The water was cold and smelt funny, the frogs too surprised , they flew out of his path as he went down, big loads of that dark water were getting into his nostrils and to his horror Danny started drinking huge quantities of the water too. 

Bobby turned around from where he was sitting, to face the well , men and boys were running towards it shouting things that was not clear to him, he realised something serious, very serious, had happened and soon he realised Danny was nowhere to be seen. 

XX The Ground

Danny was soon back at his pad, the entire day passed through his mind like an ethereal cinema, it had drama, thrill, excitement, song and loneliness – ultimately that’s were we all returned to muttered Danny to himself - as he dived onto his bed and soon found himself next to Kurosawa assisting him in his Dreams.  

It was a blazing Sunday morning at Mettiguda. Children of all colors  sizes, age had congregated at a small open space in the center of 4 independent apartment blocks, actually their backyard, that was commonly known as the ‘ground’ the space belonged to the Railways, but obviously, in fact the whole of Secunderabad City was split between either the railways or the Army whatever left were taken over by pig infested slums that were also home to the homeless like the rickshaw wallahs or the vegetable vendor or paani puri bhaiyas or even the gorkhas, they were known as the basthis - the slums - they also had a number of mean street dogs and bitches who fornicated openly, howled and barked endlessly in the night, most of them survived by mostly consuming the remains of people forced to defecate openly – in fact the pigs and the dogs and the bitches virtually fought over human shit, everyday around Mettiguda.

So that way a play ground was a luxury for sure.

The only difference between a basthi and an Official quarter was in the "Officialness" like water, electricity etc. the basthis or the slums had none of those but then they eventually started using the Official supplies meant for the Official Railway Quarters illicitly , everybody knew it as an open secret - while the people living in the official quarters paid for the facilities, the ones in the basthi did not.

Once a while great vocal tiffs would break out between the women on the official side and the women living closest to the basthi side on issues of pilferage, robbery or husband snatching.

The ‘Ground’ was actually an open area left unused more due to lack of imagination than as a planned play area, it had over a period of time become the most preferred play and leisure spot for all the boys of the railway quarters in and around, here you would find the rogues, the rowdies, the film style heroes, the smart alecks, the cheats , the sycophants and the general jobless [ they were very important, the jobless and the sycophants, the former were the ones who were made the 'Umpires' for a cricket match while the latter were required to run the errands ] playing or participating or watching ( with a cigarette or a beedi in hand) everything from street Cricket to Football, Volleyball, Marbles or flying kites , gambling with ‘packs’ or betting with pet pigeons or playing Gilli Danda. The younger ones played with old cycle tyres some well to do managed to play with their brand new bicycles.

And Danny? He was friends with all. There was something about Danny right from the days of his childhood that made him the endearing type with every kind of person – Danny could typically converse and laugh with a murderer, a rapist with as much ease as he would with a Philosopher, Writer, Physicist or Mathematician. This is not to say anything about Danny’s morality type, its just a note on Danny’s personality type. He was always the arty type, withdrawn yet a loafer , a calm bohemian painter, a gypsy musician in the midst of urban chaos. He was an outsider who remained inside simply by chance.  

Whoever wanted to find whoever or whatever about those living around the railway quarters of Mettiguda or Lalaguda all they had to was to pay visit to the ground and they would certainly not go back disappointed- there you found the sons of Inspectors rubbing shoulders with the sons of foreman, driver, coalman, Khalasi or Gangman they were all there in a seemingly egalitarian portion of earth separated in class only by the cloths one wore or by the language one spoke.

The ground was also a multilingual, multicultural cauldron so you had the Tamil Brahmin boys, the Tamil Christian boys, the Anglo Indians, the Muslims, the North Indian Baniyas, the Marwadi the Andhraite, the kannadiga, the Malayalee everyone. So almost every language was spoken from Hindi, Telugu, a native form of English ( more like the anglo Indian type influenced a bit by the English used for communication by the Railway authorities) to all other Indian lingua pot pourri, just like the curry paste of South India, the spices came from far and wide just so that one salivating Indian tongue could taste a Chettinad Chicken, for instance.

Being the backyard it was also a museum displaying different dress codes by virtue of the large number of laundry that was put to dry, so one knew who wore what, some smart ones also noticed the colours and sizes of the undergarments put to dry and used such information to their advantage when it mattered – it wasn’t uncommon for young married brides to have roaring illicit affairs with the younger boys playing in the ground – for the women it was but one way to keep themselves entertained when their husbands went on tours that stretched for several days in a month. Some even eloped, often to return a bit dumber.     

Very few girls ventured into the ground, those few who did congregated in a secluded corner more to exchange eye contact with their own Romeos, who would once in a while whisk the girls off to movies or take them on train or bus rides or hire a bicycle and take the girls to a fair or a festival event. Those girls who were less venturesome managed to sit near the grilled windows and make their presence felt – sparking romance with just quarter inch wide window grills. 

The ‘Ground’ also had an illicit pan & cigarette shop, a water well, next to which sat Baliah who served illicitly brewed local country liquor, Godamba – by noon time on weekends it was common to find punch drunk teen adults on a slugfest invariably on reasons ranging from someone having teased a fellow alcoholic male’s sister or lover or mother or someone owed someone money or any of those things - a few drunk teens sometimes had better ideas , they would climb up the drain pipes and watch house wives doing whatever they did in their bathrooms, some found encouragement most had boiling water thrown on their faces. Those who found encouragement would get down to find a spot and masturbate, the ones who had boiling water thrown on them rushed and jumped into the nearby well screaming their guts and cursing the bitch who did it. It wasn't uncommon to find the world’s most loony barbarians hanging around the deep corners of the ‘ground’ which also meant the police were almost always coming and going about the ‘ground’.

Mothers and parents belonging to more educated class of railway employees always dreaded their children playing at the ground but for the boys who did it it was but one place where they could sweat and play ball and gossip and learn to smoke or for those more adventurous to smuggle whores or girl friends in the night. For the Homosexuals it was heaven on earth at night. And yes even the sodomists, the deranged and the dysfunctional who it was rumoured used animals, used the ground when it was dark, real dark, albeit more discreet than others.

One odd day one would have news about a dead body found, often in an abandoned well that supplied water to surrounding railway workshops or parts of a body found thrown casually or some such thing. Those days policed dogs would be put into service early in the morning a small crowd would hang around then evidence will be removed and soon the ground gets filled with children playing. So in short ‘the ground’ had something for all – from a sports enthusiast to a murderer, a alcoholic, a gambler or a Policeman, or a whore or desperate lovers.

The scene in the evening or more so on a Sunday would have looked like ‘all hell had broken loose’ for an outsider not just because of the shouts and shrieks and the choicest cuss words being thrown in abundance but more so for the sheer chaos they would have seen, during play time at least a few hundred children would assemble together on that ‘ground’ - a small space just enough to say park about 15-20 cars [ of course for the children of the railway quarters a car was way ahead of their imagination] -   here the 100-200 children who had gathered would all belong to their teams and localities, sometimes they would ‘matches’ between two different Apartment blocks  but that way it would be normal to find about 20 different matches going at any given point of time and one had to be a genius to differentiate between a fielder of one team from another. A fielder chasing a ball hit by a batsman from his match will often find himself chasing at least 20 other balls on field hit by other batsman from other matches and the fielding often had to cut across the football and volley ball courts that also had their own ilk playing the games – once a ball was hit you simply chased, everyone else would simply adjust around – guess it’s probably from these chaotic playgrounds that most Indians learnt their weird traffic sense.    

It was one of those Sundays, the ground was filled to the brim with children playing all sorts of games, the aromas of different cuisines being concocted by mothers of various caste, creed and cultural affinity mixed freely in the open air, the pigs, the dogs and the occasional donkey were busy too. Daniel was too small to fit anywhere, he and a few of his size simply ran around playing odd games, mostly catch me if you can or hide and seek, they often got beaten up by the grown ups when they inadvertently bumped into a fielder chasing a ball or trying to catch a ball or throwing for a run out.  Daniel’s mother hated it whenever she knew it that he was playing at the ground.

So often on Sundays Daniel would often start with the girls first. He knew that the little girls avoided the ground so he would start the day playing with them in their games of cooking or dressing up or walking the ramp or playing ‘teacher, teacher’ or hide and seek when he could cuddle up with some of them which kind of excited them. It was such a Sunday, Danny’s mother had given him a bath, powdered him nicely, he smelt good, combed his hair into a trademark Elvis Presley puff in the front.

Daniel had the nose of an Aryan, the eyes of a South Asian, skin of a Dravidian and the physic of a unique metabolic mixture that placed him somewhere in between a tall Mexican and a Short Kenyan, would have suited to be a part of the British Mail Service or Kipling’s team of explorers if he had been born earlier.

He had a starched and ironed cotton shirt with a neat short slack and a hawaii.

Even if Dan’s parents were of very modest means they never made him feel it, at least during his early childhood when his own needs where also minimal, Dan’s father was a graduate officer in the railways, his Mom tended to the household needs along with his Sister Stella. Dan’s mother was expecting a third family member soon. Dan’s mother came from a modest background, She had 15 siblings, they originally hailed from Madurai a place in the state of Tamilnadu. Danny had heard about rumors of how rich his grandfather on the mothers side used to be but some unfortunate circumstance, brought in by his Grandfather’s step mother, who fearing division of property one day threw out Danny’s Grandfather's entire family from their ancestral family estate that had Rice and Oil Mills, they used to own private buses and also a number of retail shops selling groceries and automobile spares. But once they stepped out of the family estate the siblings experienced poverty and penury. Danny's grandfather had to rebuild life from scratch Thanks to help from some friends from the trading community, who were Muslims, but what the hell? .

Danny’s Father too had a similar background, they belonged to Palghat, a town in the state of kerala.

They too belonged to an erstwhile rich ancestry with huge tracts of agricultural land to take care of an equally large family of 16, but the family lost most what they had owing to different reasons including the onset of land reforms by one of the world’s first ever democratically elected Communist party government that kerala shared with the Republic of San Marino ( San Marino’s Government in fact preceded that of Kerala’s by almost a decade ) in the last part of the 50’s ( ’57). Justice Krishna Iyer, a Brahmin socialist, changed the destiny of many a rich agrarian Kerala gentry , known as Jenmins a.k.a. the feudals, life overnight. But, Danny’s grand parents did not lose their wealth purely due to the reforms they had several other complex reasons. The only thing Dan cared to remember was that his grandfather was an Art Teacher, at a local Government School [ which he reached by walking over 20kms  on one side] a quack of Ayurveda and Homeopathy and also a closet Alchemist.

Danny’s great grand father had joined the railways as a Station Master somewhere in the late 19^th century , he then joined the Basel Mission - of course as a heathen who needed purging.