Trodding along the seaside

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“But how do we dance?”, they ask. “We are but mannequins on display, elaborating or possibly just hinting times told, perhaps of rot and decay”.

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The view was vivid, the coffee strong. And with a song we hummed along the way down to the shore. The waters behaved.

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Eroded.

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Invaded.

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And the breeze told a story of past times (perhaps it was assumed by the song we sung).

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Entangled glamorous contraptions; perhaps not so.

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But directed in segments,

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onto strange paths.

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Then, finally, to rest.

 

Seeds of Life (in death?)

I’ve been thinking of proposing farming in graveyards. If we celebrate death, why not see it as a chance for those who have passed to contribute to the sustenance of life? Graveyards, I have come to notice, are rather large areas, sometimes with the gravespaces not being dug-up for long. Clearly the body has decayed and nourished the earth enough? Would it not be int the best interest of society – and I wished that was what religion stood for- to use this soil, this land, which we are short of in this capitalist day and age, of tall buildings and land claimed for corporate purposes, to create food to sustain the living?

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Why not, otherwise, use spaces within churches to develop a collective feeling of ownership? Of course I would identify maintaining present tree cover for obvious reasons – their advantage to maintaining conducive climate settings, preventing soil degredation – all those basic school-level geography reasons. Yes, someone will steal the crop perhaps. But they only will if they are starving. If not, why not make it so accessible and user-friendly, that people are invited to help sustain the produce and take as they wish. If there is no conversation to develop our devotion to bettering life, how can we call ourselves human beings?

Why not, I wonder, use existing institutions in their crudest, most basic idea, to overthrow a more threatening system?

Voyeurs Everywhere

“Democracy does not come from a Messiah from above, nor a helicopter from a [western] Union.” – S’bu Zikode, 2013

It is made by the people, demanded and ensured. Unfortunately, that remains the case only in theory. Political bodies have assumed the role of dictators once again, but under the (legitimised) mask of Democracy, through an intricate, almost mind-bogglingly “invisible hand” (Smith, 1759) created web. Countries remain poor because it fits in with the global neo-liberal agenda to promote the idea of Free Markets. Fitting in well with this situation is the concept of Brand Aid. You are sold the idea of a set of starving, agency-lacking countries in what is called the “Global South”. You need to think for them, you need to buy those products so that they aren’t poor, you need to get on a plane, fly off to that impoverished country to experience poverty and do your part as a white privileged person to “ease that country’s suffering”. Of course through some rich-person-created NGO that will probably charge you to work for them claiming to be “voluntary”.

But who am I to talk save as one who discovered these problems after falling for them?
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Jai Hind(u Hegemony)

I will never understand the celebration of hindu festivals as they do today. Pollution-friendly in every way.  Noise, Air, Land, Water. Today as Diwali goes on, my ears feel like they are about to bleed any second. The skies shower residue from blown up rocket-crackers and the after-stink of something burning swirls into the room as my curtains flap. Do I shut the window to counter these inconveniences? It is past 2200 hrs. Past the curfew set for non-hindus. They pride themselves on being the world’s biggest democracy with a secular outlook, when I highly doubt both claims. That book sits, rotting and decadent, and we follow that which is almost a century old, based on other decadent compilations.

Another blast. Were it an Islamic festival, the Hindus would think it to be an act of terrorism. Were it that of any other minority, it wold be looked at as an attempt to step out of line and not respect the views of the State (you know, those bloody anti-nationalists.) I read in the paper today, that sugarcane farmers made an attempt to protest during this festive day, against the low prices of their crops. They blocked roads to make a point, to make people realise that while they are busy burning fuel (and thereby money and resources and adding to the pollution) there are sections who have nothing. It could easily be an attempt at being heard. To ask people to consider them. But they were silenced by guns. The state approves the use of arms in the face of danger. Oh yes. Danger. The population traveling from one region to another to “celebrate” a new year (what for, I will never know) is in danger of not being able to add to the crackers being blown up. Such monsters must be stopped. Monsters who do not respect the Hindu culturally hegemonic way of celebrating their greatness. Kill them. So that the rest in their cars may be pacified and can join in as their families (fat, alive) can sit around with bottles of alcohol (blame those Christians) and set fire to bundles of money, carefully mashed up, in a crafty manner, to form crackers by the sweat and blood of little children. Little children who sit in factories and use their ever so nimble tiny fingers to spot in very dim lit rooms, the correct place to insert those seeds of gunpowder. Because children need to work. Must be those lower caste ones. Those ones who never make it in life. Those ones who have never been educated thanks to the brilliant system in place. Those ones who struggle to get by daily and hope to never have to put their children through the same. But they work. Because their knowledge is not valid knowledge. No, sirr. You need to go to a University to get a Degree. And a Masters. To be smart. You need to be able to sit at home and depend on others for one of those. So that others who have access to those facilities can be fat and pretend to be liberal. And pretend to care.

So kill those farmers who dare to disrupt the peace and harmony that we intend on maintaining as we blow up crackers. And let those children work in dimly lit areas and get paid next to nothing, and have no future as we switch on all the lights possible, waste as much electricity to signify our devotion to some mythological creatures who apparently fought against evil.

Who are the evil ones, again?

Read It. Now.

A researched work on the problem of patriarchy among middle class girls. I have a lot of problems with the terms and data collected in this book, but it’s pretty valid.

No, we aren’t as safe as you like to believe, idiots.

I don’t need your citizens (Indian men) controlling me because you have a warped idea of how people with vaginas (or people you assume to have vaginas) are supposed to behave.