• FEATURED WRITERS:
  • DIVAKAR KAMBLI
  • AMOL REDIJ
  • P. K. DASTOOR
  • ANIKET SAWANT
  • DEVIKARANI KAMATH
  • ARUN DABHOLKAR

FEATURED ARTICLES

Just a few days before the Oscars, I watched “The Artist” Read More ...

One man I have believed who can facilely camouflage pathos Read More ...

He’s an octogenarian! You won’t believe. Read More ...

Lately, Robot has been in news for shrieking Ra. One. Read More ...

What a black humour! To call stylish walker, a langda. Pawan Malhotra as Salim... Read More ...

As not vitiated by a speck of ‘herdship mentality' that Mumbaikars borne... Read More ...

I do not understand whether to cry or enjoy since the day Sachin Tendulkar. Read More ...

Showing posts with label Miracles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miracles. Show all posts

The rural India is usually looked down upon. People mostly have tanned skin. The infrastructure doesn’t quench our malls-multiplexes-mobiles hankering. The water is examined with suspicion (it is a misnomer though). It is very rare that we, the urban crowd, might shortlist a rural area as a picnic spot, unless that area has good hotels, bars, mineral water outlets, swimming pools, and so on, even though that rural setup is full of exquisite landscapes, refreshing nature, sumptuous greenery, and compassionate people.

However, these areas, which we ignorantly brush under our carpets for they fail to offer us the comforts we desire, are stuffed with copious natural resources and forestation that can satisfy our daily basic needs.

I remember my grandfather narrating a tale to me about a family in our native place that treated the villagers with leaves of various plants and trees. The wisdom had trickled down from generation to generation. This particular family had a peculiar research methodology. And the results never failed. Almost every ailment, disease, illness was perfectly cured with the paste of leaves they offered. There were different leaves to heal different disorders. Curiosity prevailed in the village for this proficiency of theirs until one day it was revealed to a close confidant who happened to be my grandfather.

“It is simple,” said the well researched and proven doctor “our families have been observing the monkeys for long. Most of the times diseases of human beings and apes are similar. Under certain circumstances, monkeys ate the leaves of particular plants or trees. This pattern was studied for long. And thus based on hard gathered observations and sampling analysis, leaves having particular medicinal values were selected for treatment”

Indeed a genius thing that would mock at the medical science research going on in closed hi-tech ultra-modern costly research centres. Imagine the number of cute white rats that could have been spared.

One such worthiness of rural India that I recently came across is the medications that people (tribes) from these bucolic areas practice. No chemicals involved, just pure natural elements derived from plants and food products. It is indeed a wonder that these illiterate people have the innate quality of recognising the exact plant rich in medicinal value. Very apt; quite adept.

One of my friends practicing medicine as an intern in Buldhana district had told me interesting tales about the medicines people used there.

The tribal population, poor and backward socially & economically, had the abundant wealth of knowledge about the medicinal properties of the natural vegetation around and items of daily household use like coconut oil, milk, turmeric powder, jaggery, and so on. The tribes possess the inimitable erudition to heal around thirty one different human related diseases. This knowledge is the prized property of the population here and the elderly respect it to the utmost. The astuteness of medicinal plant species of these people might in future help large research organisations to develop new drugs for the welfare of the mankind. That of course if the flora and fauna are preserved in the right spirits.

Ever since the mankind has evolved, plants have been used for their medicinal values. It is a matter of pride then that these illiterate people have preserved that culture without any selfishness or asking for monetary recognition in return.

Consider for example, root extract of a plant ranbhendi mixed with curd is used to cure piles. Kidney stone can be cured in 10-15 days when treated with decoction of gokharu seeds and zingiber officinale rhizome. Powder of dried aghada plant added with honey can cure asthma in a week. Homogenised mixture of durwa, haral with honey when taken daily for a fortnight helps in maintaining youthfulness. Paste of amba kernels and fruit wall of Emblica officinalis Gaertn when applied to hair prevents baldness and enriches hair growth. Root powder of ashwagandha, askand with cow milk is used to heal nocturnal emission and strengthen the body. Leaves of chincha cooked with anthill soil are used to treat fractures. Intestinal worms can be cured by taking sitaphal seed powder with jaggery before meals for a week.

You will find numerous such examples if you go to explore wonders for tribal land. People from the tribal land have had continuous relationship with the vegetations, and thus have gained profound intelligence about the plants and their medicinal traits and that too at no cost. The tribes and people of the rural India have tremendous faith in their knowledge, their findings, and their timely proven medicines.

Today we are busy eroding the vegetations, devastating villages for our greed of constructing real estate marvels. The loss of biomass, organic productivity, insolvency of soil, mudding of water bodies are making things worrisome. We are busy acculturating and modernizing that will surely deprive us of the traditional information that the primitive indigenous societies have stored and nurtured for generations.
Nutritional supplements and herbal medicines have today become a craze of this generation. It appears and becomes nutritional or beneficial or enriched with medicinal values when it arrives from the foreign land packaged with “Made in USA” marks – is the psychology that we have developed, which unfortunately will only ruin our values, culture, and rich knowledge base.

India lives in villages. There reside the true Indians. You and I of today who munch a McD burger and sip a Coke are pseudos.

Next time when you take the bite of burger and find it as a pleasuring experience, imagine what contentment it will be bit a cashew fruit just plucked from the tree or sip coconut water from the coconut that just fell in front of your feet from the tall tree.

There is after all, a refreshing difference between the natural and the artificial.

- Amol Redij

Roads no more bumpy
See those streets so clean
No spats, no litter
See those parks so green

Awe!
Improved systems of security
Whitewashed buildings
Everything perfect to our envy

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Our dear big daddy Obama
Is coming to Bombay

Tell me, O Mamma!
Why all this is happening?
Who’s this Obama?
Why all this bowing?


When I go to school
Even I feel the pain
Traveling on those roads
Shattered due to rain

Nothing do I find clean
No green parks to play
When dad goes to office
Why do you pray all day?

They are doing all this
Means it can be done
Why is it then every time?
For Obama or Clinton

Dad talks about Thackeray
You talk about corruption
Grand dad about Atre
Who is talking about nation?

I don’t want to be Obama
I just need some care
Of rightfully what I deserve
I just need a little share

Tell me, Mamma
Why can’t I have such street?
Why can’t I have parks to play?
Why always, I’m offered deceit?

- RedAm

Octopus Paul is dead. Probably, world is mourning; Spain certainly; India too. For India is very sentimental about such topics – astrology, predictions, fortune telling; so what if it was an octopus this time and not a roadside jyotishi sitting with a parrot. Indians, by and large, balance well between getting emotional and credulous; hoping sides as per the convenience.

Had Paul not breathed his last on 26th Oct, we could have imported him to predict the Bihar elections and the subsequent KDMC one. At least Paul could have saved us from the pique of “Tu-Tu-Main-Main” sponsored by the Thackeray Bros. The animal could have, to some extent, lessened the cat-and-dog like fight.
  
It would have been a great sigh of relief for them, us, and the media channels to have known whether it was “Uddhav’s Rajkaran” or “Raj Uddhavast” that would ultimately triumph. It then doesn’t matter what the end result it but we love to hallucinate in the galore of predictions and forecast.

Though we tried to sideline Paul claiming it is something we have been practising since ages, with a parrot though, somewhere deep within we all believed in the octopus theory.

Any social gathering or a group in college or residents of an apartment, anywhere once it is revealed that someone can read a palm or forehead, people start flocking to that person rubbing their palm hard on the bum or wiping their forehead with the forearm, to know about their future. Such is the craze.

Once at a wedding, I came across a person who could read palm of the foot. I wasn’t surprised. It is quite possible. Girls, with ghagra pulled up to the knee level, were dying to show him their feet. He was closely looking at the foot of short dark boy and proclaimed, ‘a fortune awaits this boy in next 3 years, and he is going to be a rich man with a business of his own’. The boy was actually a helper of a caterer there at the wedding. It is more than 8 years now, the by hasn’t made any fortune, he still works under the Marwadi caterer businessman. I haven’t seen that foot-palm reader ever since, fortunately for him.

 Our muse with getting predictions for the happenings in our life is abysmal. I usually don’t understand why people are so desperate to kill the thrill of their life.

Cricket channels too had started getting such fortune teller guests to predict the result of the match. The guests did all sorts of things with cards, numbers, stars etc, and gave some statistics. However, in the end, they do mention that the best team will ultimately win. Where is the fortune-teller’s skill then? Even I can make a statement like that.

Bejan Daruwala predicts the movement of the stock market. A reputed entity like CNBC and www.moneycontol.com believe more in what “Ganesha Says...” than what Gujral, Bhansali, Tulsian, etc say. Both the groups are useless anyways.

Channels make money for they know how to tap the emotional turbulence of Indians. We love getting exploited without applying even an iota of rationale to what we hear, see, and do.

Another instance where we love getting manipulated is “Vastu” and “Feng Shui”. Just because some Feng Shui consultant tells us to illuminate our home with bright red things, we buy all sorts of lustrous red that we can get and keep hoping that some great fortune will come kissing us. Feng Shui came from China. The climate there is extremely cold. In the colour wheel, red and yellow are considered to be warm colours, they depict warmth, heat. This is the reason why mostly in Chinese houses you will find abundant use of red and yellow; to possibly neutralise the effect of the cold climate. However, this may not be applicable in India. We already have a warm tropical climate, especially in Mumbai where humidity is so high.

But we are blinded by the sweet words of the astrologers, Feng Shui consultants, numerologists, and so on. By chance, if you make a fortune at all one day, it will be purely because of the hard work and dedication you put in.

Till then you may only dream to accumulate fortune, while your Feng Shui consultant and astrologer is collecting it by the way of hefty fees charged to you.

- P. K. Dastoor

I met Pratyush today. During our school days, Pratyush and I had acted in a drama called ‘Alladin Ka Chirag’. I was Alladin and because of his chubby bulky stature, Pratyush suited to be a Jinee. Since then, Pratyush always used to fantasize about the story and dreamt of getting all world pleasures. He used to try and rub every lamp or lamp like structure that he came across. His obsession grew to such an extent that he always used to walk alongside the guttars, nalas, garbage boxes and so on, just with a hope that he would find a lamp someday and that lamp would produce a Jinee, when rubbed. He changed his school and eventually we lost contact. I have no idea whether his quest for that lamp was still on.

When I met him today (We got in touch with each other through some alumni site and then planned to meet), nothing much had changed - same bulky physique, searching eyes and noisy presence. To my surprise, even today he hunts for a lamp and jokes about it – ‘Never lose hope’. However, the desperation had reduced to a significant extent. We got nostalgic about the drama and how we read a lot of Alladin stuff collected from books, teachers, grandparents and so on (good that Internet was a distant reality then). We laughed thinking of the times when Pratyush would walk near the garbage boxes. I used to tease him – ‘Tu bada hokey bhangaarwala banega (You will be a rag picker when you grow up)’.

While coming back home I kept thinking about Pratyush and his search for lamp. Some random flashed across my mind and realized that there are lot of Jinnies around you, only if you comprehend it properly. People around you give you a lot, possibly all the pleasures and happiness that you could have ever thought of. At least, I have been lucky to find such real life Jinnies who have cherished my life and made it a wonderful experience. My family, wife, friends, teachers, colleagues all at some point in time have helped me walk through some memorable moments of satisfaction and pleasure. Everything else that a Jinee from the lamp could offer seems very materialistic. At end of the day, I feel happier recounting the number of smiles I have had, than the gold, wealth, riches that a Jinee could have offered – and all this without rubbing a lamp.

If only Pratyush could realize that Jinnies are all around, he does not need a lamp (which he may never find) to rub his hands on, but just needs to open his eyes.

- P. K. Dastoor