Ralph, I Miss You...

      Ralph, I Miss You....

RALPH- THE ROUGH

It’s been more than a week since I blogged. A best friend of me called me back the next day and explained to me how lacklustre and tedious my blog is. Then he gave me some pointers on how can I better the whole outlook of my blog. According to him, mine is a narrative style of writing which is more journalistic than blogging and thus evokes no interest in readers, piques no curiosity, and is not doing well with the very purpose of blogging. Great advice from a great friend.

Then I thought...., Oh my goodness, what exactly does he mean by “sincere expressions on ordinary topics to evoke interest”. Let me clarify... so I asked him. But then , he asked me in return,

“Has a dog ever bitten you?”  I said “No, I’am absurdly good at climbing trees”.

My friend was growing impatient.

 “Ok. Let it be...now tell me, have you ever met with an accident which wiped out your existence from this planet, though momentarily?” 

“Yes twice.”     

“ Ok very good, then go write about it...will be an interesting read for me...Good night” he disconnected the phone.

Such a good friend...I thought.   Now there is enough reason to be sceptical of the quality of my blog writing, that I thought I should better leave it altogether or just plough ahead with some scraps to keep it alive at least for some more time. Since blogging is something that gives me pleasure and makes me elated, I thought,  I should stick to the pretty good second option, though I’am not a blogaholic nor would I intended to be one.  The satisfaction I get when I’am in a world of my own for a few moments, which doesn’t create any problems for others, is just incredible.

Now that I’am seriously thinking about writing a post, I wonder the stuff may be boring to many of you, but here I know how badly I missed my “RALPH”, a couple of years ago. Yes, I had a dog, a majestic looking ‘German Shepherd’ that I owned from a reputed dog breeder in Kerala once I’d developed a fantastic respect for this breed after realizing that this particular breed has a very special and unique bond between its master since time immemorial. Dogs carry a very high emotional capacity and thus they are the first ones to be attracted towards the human beings. They go by ‘feel’ rather than ‘instinct’. As humans have the most emotional senses than any other living beings, animals are attracted more towards them.

Anyway, my Ralph was barely one month old when he came to my house late one evening amidst all the cheers and jeers of my family members. Though far away from my house, I could well imagine my children’s faces beaming with joy and fascination. I could hear them laughing and jeering at the little pup who would be their new companion to pal around in the coming days.  A month later, I took a short leave to join my family and to see how the new comer in my house enjoying his stay. It was a fascinating experience to be with this little cute dog. Very soon he started wagging his stubby tail, jumping all over me and playing with me. It was nice to be able to have a wonderful vacation with him.

One month old Ralph, with my Son

One more member added to the list of those who have sincerely been worrying about me, on the last day of my leave phase. It has always been disquieting for me to say adieu to my family and friends after spending few days in euphoria with them. As an armed force member you don’t have many options. 

Months passed.

I was astonished to find, when I came back after few months, how quickly this pup developed into an adult dog. This time, I’am bit scared going near him as he was violently swirling inside the cage and barking at me ferociously.  I never imagined he would be growing up so fast.  Going by what experts say, dogs seldom forgets their first master, but here, this man, the way he behaves, I thought, he wants to rip me apart. Few gesticulations to calm him down went in vain. Then the decision from an armed force officer, "Come what may", I told my wife. “Open that door”. Not sure about animal instincts, I took an evasive action, just in case. Few stitches here and there and an extended medical leave due to a brutal dog attack was what I expected to come about.

Ralph, 8 months

The door was opened and then Voila...! He raced to me, jumped up in the air, stuck his legs up on my stomach and started licking my hands. Gazed up at me, he was wagging his tail as if he was so pleased with my coming. He barked and growled, trying to tell me something in his own language. When I nudged him as his small but razor sharp teeth were hurting me a little, he bounced back as if like wants to climb up me. Ralph is now an adult dog, I thought.  

It was during those days, did I realise that my Ralph is but a ferocious and agressive dog. After observing him for a while, the vet to whom we took him for a vaccination injection, told me that this dog is a little ferocious beast and need some training and few extra precautions while taking him out for walks as he would dare attack anyone to whom he thinks not his kind of. Iam aware of his uncharacteristic rage towards the visitors to our house while on sheltered in his cage, but this one was a bit of shocker to me. He had the power of few dogs combined and was too aggressive.  In my absence, I’am sure my wife wouldn’t be able to train him properly or groom him as a good canine. I tried my best to train him a bit by taking him with me every morning when I went out for my daily jog and found he truly enjoys that. We would practice, sit-stay and catch the ball exercises in the morning or in the evening in the small aisle of my house. Days passed in a hurry and the vacation was over in a flash.

After a 5 Km jog

I was a bit worried when I started getting those telephone calls at my work place, about the mischievous character of my Ralph and his over enthusiastic activities which caused him to be altogether banished from the heart of my family members and neighbours. My mother who would not talk anything disturbing to me particularly when I'am on my work place was also found worried about him. The latest incident of a daily wage labourer who was working in a nearby house got almost passed out when she encountered Ralph when he slipped out the front gate and sprang towards her, evokes protest from the perturbed house owner. Even though it was an action out of playfulness, this incident earned him a reputation as an aggressive and ferocious dog potentially dangerous to the neighbours.  The only ones who still liked him were the residents of the nearby apartment for his thunderous barks at night for every unusual sounds or awkward movements around. In a place where citizens are weary of housebreaking incidents even in broad daylight, his presence was a much sought after endorsement.  

Heated discussions and negotiations by my family members, ended up in moving a memorandum to me to take an early decision in getting rid of this dangerous beast to avoid any untoward incidents in future.  All my last minutes efforts to convince them to wait for few more years till I get voluntary retirement from service went in vain. It was literally with a heavy heart, that I accepted the unanimous decision of my family members and asked them to approach our vet for an advice. Few days later the doctor introduced to my wife, the owner of a famous kennel in Trivandrum who was in search of a good stud dog.

Mean while I steadfastly refused a good amount he offered in lieu of my Ralph as I couldn’t even imagine selling him.

One fine morning, when the new owner came in, Ralph reacted to him none differently than any other stranger in the house. Far away, I was listening to the live commentary of events as my wife was doing the role of a commentator. She said, “I can’t see him being torn apart by Ralph. He is simply venting his rage towards him and barking mad…. I think he will break open the iron grill….. And the new owner is not reacting at all as if he has seen enough…. He is making some gesticulations at him with his fist. Oh…Yes…he calm down a bit…his ferocious bark has now been reduced to little more than a whimper… Now they are gazing at each other…, he is going near him and calling his name….he touched his nose…, I have to check…yes he is wagging his tail now…hold on….hold on…he is asking for his chain…. I will call you later.”

She left me anxious to know what happens next.  Few moments later she called me to give a vivid depiction of how my Ralph left our house calmly with his new owner. Once the door was opened, he sprang out and started licking his new owner’s hands. He repeatedly and gently taps the side of Ralph’s neck. The reaction was almost magical. Within moments, they became friends.  He simply chained him and took him away in a vehicle.

My Ralph came without me in my house and quietly left without me with no protest or hassle. If I would have been there, I want to tell him what a good and gorgeous boy he was. I won’t see him again as I’am sure it will upset him. I cherish every moment I did have with him and nowadays I miss him in my early morning joggings.

He was only a dog, I know, but it’s hard for me to forget him. What Ralph may have thought when he was taken away?  Difficult to say, I know. But he had a large heart to forgive us. He would have thought ‘why should I disturb you when you people don’t want me.’

I had to make a decision, ultimately though, to bid farewell to my Ralph. Even though I feel guilty about my decision sometimes, then I feel that I did something what’s best for everyone.  Like someone said, “those we can’t live without, but have to let go”

He was simply too big for my wife to handle and with a job in armed force where you could only stay with your family for less than three months a year, I was helpless. He was such a lovely dog, I’am sure he will be having a nice life with his new owner. He will learn quickly that his new owner, who can give him a lovely life, will love him too. 

Now I haven’t got a dog and won’t take the risk of getting another pet dog till the completion of my twenty years of mandatory service which is going to be over soon. Then I’ll go for a dog, the most ferocious one, the most powerful one, if not German shepherd, then a Rottweiler… or a GermanShepherdRottweiler…???.  Let me see…… 

.

THE UNSEEN SCAR

It was nine o’clock in the morning.
On the farthest corner of the mortuary, he stood alone with his head leaning against the wall and his eyes staring into infinity. His disbelieving eyes were found swollen and red from crying several times through the night. Running down his hands through his coarse grey hair, tousled and dry, he looked utterly shattered. His appearance of a pale and emaciated middle aged figure, who had forgotten to smile long back, resembled a modern day farmer. Although he was living a penurious existence due to rapid urbanisation and industrialisation that swept across his serene village in recent years, he kept guarded safely in his inner soul; a ray of hope, intact like a small wick that he thought would disperse the darkness that filled his life since long. That tiny flame has now been doused. His lone son, who had been his dream, left this world yesterday, abandoned him to the deepest depths of sorrow.
His occasional plaintive sobbing pierced the tranquillity of the room, the corridor and the bitter pong of chilly corpses.  
In that dimly lit room, a few relatives who were with him since yesterday and a few who joined him in the morning were found chatting to each other in hushed voices as if they couldn’t believe such an act by the boy, who they never thought would have the courage, nor the wits to undertook this drastic act of committing suicide. 
After a while, came an impassive mortuary keeper in his dark uniform, talking to himself and banging his head with his hand, cursing some his superior officer, probably for denying some trivial favours he asked to him. 
Few relatives, though grudgingly, followed him.  
“What is his name?” he asked haughtily in a loud voice.  His actions carried a false psychological egoism exploiting the vulnerability of the moment. In the whole of his outward appearance, there wasn’t any trace of nobility to be seen.
He ran his fingers up and down each drawer,  trying to locate the name of the boy and finally when he pulled open one drawer, it made a shrill noise  of metal grating metal. Few came forward to lend a hand in shifting the frozen body to a nearby stretcher. The slender body of the boy resembled that of a flower that bloomed beautifully but withered away sadly in the embers of reckless dreams.
Meanwhile, sounds of combat boots thudding against the floor came closer and the relatives made way for a police Sub-Inspector and a couple of Constables who were waiting in the duty room with inquest papers to check the veracity of facts.
“All of you may please push back” the Sub-Inspector looked obviously perturbed with the commotion around.
Seemed strict and scrupulous in his contractual obligations, one constable asked .

 “Who is his father?”  
All looked towards the farmer while two among them helped him to the stretcher. He was staggering as he went; His emaciated legs, trailing and stumbling heavily and feebly.  
Near the stretcher, he was heartbroken. A long melancholic howl came out of his throat as someone prevented him from falling backwards. His loud, sort of animalistic scream reverberated off the walls of the mortuary room. He was inconsolable.
A deep sense of grief usurps the room.
Tears rolling down his eyes he stood there for long stared in pain at the undersized body of his lone son.
“.Why did you make me like this my son…, who will take care of us, your ailing mother and me…!.”
His voice sounded muffled as his throat clogged and heart grief-stricken.  
Few more minutes, his bawl gradually faded into a thin wail as he wiped the tears with his hand and sat crestfallen on the ground.
Looked upon the farmer, now with a soft voice, the Sub inspector asked.
“What was his age?”
Gazing on the roof he thought for a while and said in a brittle voice “Sixteen…Sixteen complete”
Meanwhile the other two constables were busy searching for any suspicious marks on his body, as part of their investigation, to make sure that it’s indeed a suicide and not a murder. The rope mark around the neck was thoroughly checked by the sub inspector himself and he seemed pretty convinced about it beyond doubt.

Suddenly the sub-inspector's  eyes got locked at a long surgery scar, though old, just below the ribs on the side of the dead body. Notwithstanding, an old scar makes no relevance in the bodily investigation of a suicide case, the Sub-Inspector asked out of curiosity.
 “What is this mark?”
Everybody looked and then turned their heads to the farmer with inquisitive eyes. He stood up with a curious face and then, it found, raced across his face an array of sheer astonishment as if he had never seen it before. It was an unseen scar.
Police Inspector didn’t pursue much about the scar, because they felt it was an old one and thus was not of any great significance to the inquest report. The body was then taken away by the hospital staff for a post- mortem. Hushed voices of relatives had now been turned into a noisy debate.  The scar sceptically found on the young boy’s belly was something they never heard before.  Still baffled and startled, the farmer walked alongside the mobile stretcher that carried the corpse of his son into the autopsy room. 
Somebody offered him a glass of water which he refused with a gentle nod of his head. In front of the autopsy room, outside the courtyard, he sat beneath a huge mahogany tree. An ideal place to calm down, he thought. Strong sense of repentance thronged like turbulent waves on his heart. Without anyone noticing, he cried silently with occasional mumble.
 “Please forgive me …my son….your father…Iam a wretch. But still…why did you do this to me. At least you….your mother…she is such a…such a poor women… ”.
Unable to bear the weakness shuddering through his body, he laid back against the tree and looked up. At a distance he saw, eagles’ sauntering through the sky.
“It will take some more time to complete the procedures” said someone impatiently, looking at his watch.   

A cool breeze from the huge Mahogany tree blew through the space and when it braced the feeble body of the farmer as if as an act of solace, he sensed a series of memories now flooding his mind just like the turbulent waves beating against the sea shore. His serene village and his small house in the middle of a vast paddy field came as obscure images to his mind.
 “Janaki must be still unconscious... losing her only son..., how could she be able to bear it” Farmer thought about his wife who fell unconscious just after seeing that bizarre sight of her only son swaying lifelessly in a rope tied around his neck yesterday. He was in his room when he heard her scream of pain. It was too late before he could do anything.
Why...did he do this to me...my almighty god? What is that unpardonable sin, Iam afraid,  I may have committed for punishing me like this....” he sobbed inconsolably.
" Yes, I have scolded him many times.  If I don’t admonish him, who will? He is my child; I wanted him to be an officer. When me and Janaki would become old and feeble, I thought we would retire to his support. But now, a worthless me..Iam a cruel, evil man...I’ve never gave him anything but torment...Will there be anyone to take care of Janaki?"
When little flecks of tears that rolled down his cheeks moistened his parched lips he wiped it with his hand.
“This is a fate of me which Iam solely responsible. Whenever I admonished him for not studying well that Janaki came between us and absolves my entire wrath. Many times she used to cry herself to sleep at night which I knew, but I never consoled her”.
“But then why.... Why did I scold him?”
Thoughts of a small village, rich with endless stretches of coconut palms and vast green paddy fields, wandering cows and sturdy farmers ploughing their fields with oxen tied to wooden plough, thronged his mind as waves of a tranquil sea. Clatter of the huge wheels of bullock cart carrying coconut husk and hay to the town reverberated in his ears. There on the farthest corner of a vast paddy field, he could see a cute, bubbly little boy with a small stick in his hand, chasing the chickens around the house, brimming over with laughter.  A boy, he thought will support him in his old age. A boy, who put colours in his otherwise dull and sombre life. A boy on whom he saw his future aspiration and woven his dreams.
 “Oh..God...How hastily did all disappear like a meteor that has fallen to earth?” he broke into silent sobs. 
The house he made with tears, sweat and pain was what he loved with proud delight. Sometimes, during rainy days, he crouched on the daubed floor of that thatched house and dreamt of a future full of mirth and merriment.
 Forty cents of land, Janaki got from her father as her share was so infertile that not even a blade of green grass or weed would grow on it. Moreover it was far from his house, almost three kilometres away. He neglected that land and almost buried it beneath the heap of his befuddled dreams. But Janaki always stood with him. She accompanied him everywhere like his shadow. He worked hard on his own share of paddy field and fetched enough money to run his family. He was a happy farmer then.  When the boy was five, he started going to a local village school.
“When he will become eight, we will get him admitted in a proper school in the city. He will bring solace to all our worries once he become an officer.” Many times he said this to Janaki.

But fate willed otherwise.
The boy never seemed to be able to study his lessons well. He got poor marks. As he grew, farmer could see him becoming less and less interested in his books and rather found him always returning late in the evening with his clothes draped with mud and dirt. That made him outrageous and then, loud scuffles had became a regular affair in the house.
 “How will you ever become an officer with these marks?”
Many times when the boy would reach home late with some excuse or the other, the farmer would beat him terribly hard. Janaki would stick up for him and then he would beat her too. She would be begging to leave her son alone, sobbing.
Farmer found all his dreams gradually fading in the horizon.
An unknown disease that caught Janaki had turned the things worse for him. Gradually she lost her health to became a terribly skinned woman with a tired face. Sudden rise in fertilizer costs and labour problems affected the paddy cultivation, which saw many farmers including him shifted to daily labour for existence.  Meagre income he earned as a daily wager was hardly enough to meet even her medical expenses.  Life gradually turned into dilemma for him.
Years passed, the boy entered into his tenth class. They found their son burning the midnight oil through the year but never found him to be a happy student. The boy was worried too.    
Came the month of June. On a murky morning, the newspaper boy came late due to the incessant rain. Farmer was waiting for him at the porch since midnight. He knew the importance of that newspaper. The results for the tenth class exam would be there in it. The newspaper boy took one paper  and flung it over the gate straight into the porch,. As his trembling fingers were tracing down the roll number, he could hear his heart beating fast and loud.  And finally when the finger came to a  halt at the last number, a sudden darkness blinded his eyes. He sat back dumbstruck on the ground.
He remained stolidly silent for a while. Then he suddenly sprang from there, rushed across the room in a blind rage, jerked open the door and caught the boy by his hand and flung him into the ground. He beat him terribly bad with his fists. Farmer was fuming on him with anger in his familiar tyrant’s way. Janaki ran on in front of him and flung herself in a heap at his feet and besought him.
 “Let him go, be mercy...please...Let him go...you...My promise” she sobbed terribly.
All her pleadings fell on his deaf ears. His anger grew and it was almost as if he had become crazy, he continued beating him. Boy was crying and pleading too with his folded hands. He tried in vain to escape to the back of a cupboard.  
He pulled him out by his legs and dragged him to the portico and heaved him out the door.
“Go to any hell…don’t come here again…”, he furiously yelled at him, looking at him with his red eyes, he shouted again.

“Go away….You are not my son...”
A deep, prolonged thunder roared in the sky.   
The boy was bawling loudly for mercy. He was so frightened that words chocked in his throat. When he tried to come back, farmer raced towards him and pushed him hard to the ground.  
“Get lost ...I say...I don’t want to see you again...”

Haunted with rage farmer went inside.
Boy stayed there soaking in the rain, sobbing for long, then quietly turned back towards the gate and walked with heavy steps weeping inconsolably.
Something shattered in the portico with a thud sound.
Janaki, unable to bear the grief, fell down unconscious. Few neighbours came down running, tried to pacify the farmer. Few among them stayed away from the scene, outside the gate.
 The slender boyish figure, trailing and stumbling, gradually faded and disappeared in the narrow culvert.
Hours passed.
Back to sense, he took his bi-cycle and rummage around shouting for his son, but in vain. He came back home crestfallen and waited at the loggia, frequently walking towards the gate and back, until past midnight.  

The boy didn’t return.

All cursed him covertly and overtly for his plight. Janaki, as always, spend her days in the darkness of her room, crying.
One evening, two weeks after his departure from the house, the boy came back. The sky was overcast and gloomy.  He seemed so scrawny and pale.  That sheen on his face was not there to be seen, instead he looked weary and lost.  Seeing him, Janaki ran impatiently out on the veranda,  reached for her child and embraced him to her heart.
Tears pouring from her eyes said it all. It was like she got her life back. 
Farmer stood there silent, overwhelmed with emotions.  
For a while, boy stood there at the door staring at the floor, and then quietly left and plunged on his bed in his room snivelling silently. Janaki, went to his room, stood there at the door in agony and then reached to his side, leaning on the bed, she whispered in a tired, almost pleading voice, holding his feeble hand tight.
“Son...who else I got...You are the only one the almighty gave me...please don’t cry...It’s alright...nothing happened...Your mother is here...don’t cry....my son”
The boy said nothing but blub.  After a few minutes, she sighed heavily and left the room silently.
“I can’t stand this agony anymore” she said in a brittle tone to farmer. With much difficulty he controlled himself bursting into tears upon his plight.  Late that night, both of them cried a lot gazing at each other, when the boy had fallen asleep.
 He asked her,
 “Do you know how much I loved him...I could not speak of my love neither I could show it..., true..., but still.... how could he run off from us Janaki? You saw him, how pale he has become...How could I bear it....” Tears rolled down his cheek, he laid back against the wall.
Hours gave way to days and days to weeks. Farmer kept himself aloof from the boy. He would spent his days in the field doing farce jobs. Janaki served the food inside his room but he hardly ever took it but sat on the corner and muttered his apologies to her for making her sad. Gradually that too melted as he had fallen into a deep silence. He seldom spoke to anyone.   At times, he tried to come out in front of the farmer egging to say something. His tearful eyes were always asking for forgiveness.  
-2-
Some commotion outside the mortuary and one more carcass was handed over to some anxious relatives.
“Next is ours.” farmer heard someone telling.
It took only a few minutes to complete the formalities before the wrapped up body of the boy was taken to the ambulance.
Somebody helped the farmer into the vehicle. And the ambulance left for the village.
Cremation was held at the paddy field behind his house.
Several showed up to the funeral.  Few hours later, when the thick white smoke caved in, many of them left and a very few close relatives stayed back. Janaki was inconsolable. She was almost gone mad. She vehemently refused the proposal of some of her relatives to shift her to a city hospital. Farmer said nothing.
Some more people left by evening and those who still remained were send back to their houses by the farmer courteously asking then to take care of their loved ones. Late in the evening,  when the moon coyly appeared above the clouds at a distance, farmer took Janaki to the funeral pyre of their only son. They sat down there for long and cried their heart out. Their loud sobs pierce the serene ambience of night. Melancholic chirping of a night bird from a distance disrupts the nocturnal silence.
Few minutes later, when someone called the bereaved souls from behind, they stood up with profound heart.
“What are you doing here...who told you to come here...” anxious neighbour affectionately reprimanded them.  He came with some porridge which they politely refused.  Condolence words by the neighbour didn’t bring any relief to their burning souls.  That night they did not sleep a wink, tormented by repentance, cursing them strenuously.  
When the crescent moon paled over the western horizon and the crimson red and yellow clouds painted the east, it meant for sure that the day was breaking quickly.  Few more relatives and neighbours came with condolences. Farmer was still sitting on the veranda alone, setting his head on his hand, with a huge sense of repentance over bearded him.


                                     ll
           Day progressed, streets had become busy.
“A post for you” stretching his neck from outside the gate, yelled the local post man. A neighbour took the letter from him and handed over it to the farmer.
With a bemused expression he thought ,  I‘ve never had a letter from anyone in my life except those printed post cards from the bank reminding the repayment date of their loans. Then who is this...
 Letter brought many surprises to his eyes.  When he carefully opened it and read the name of the sender, his whole body shuddered. He felt as if the blood was draining from his head. To avoid a collapse, he sat there on a stone by the side of the porch. He looked aghast.
It took him several minutes to regain tranquillity.
Posted by his son three days ago, he started reading the letter once he regained his sense, struggling vehemently to hold it in his severely trembling hands. 

‘My dearest father...,


                                 For every deepest sorrow I’ve caused you and mother, I know no apology will suffice.  But father, you are such a kind hearted person; I’am sure, will forgive me for all my faults. As I write this, I find myself overwhelmed with guilt, pain and uncertainty. I’am writing this letter with tears falling from my eyes. I will post it today and then... then, I will bid farewell to this world where I lived for sixteen years as your son, yes, as a farmer’s son. Now I realize that my life is not worth the living as your son. Through these years you have been my hero, my strong wall, my...my everything. But now I strongly feel that I cannot live up to your expectations.

Father...I know very well that I’ve never been good at my studies.   It’s not that I’ve never tried, but it has always been extremely difficult for me to catch up with other students. Do you know father, my promotions in lower classes were rewards for my gentle behaviour and also your good deeds. My teachers told me this, way back.  

When I get home late those days with mud and dirt on my uniform, you scolded me, thinking that I’am coming from the play ground. No father...in fact, I never had any friends. Not even one. But I have instead been working hard in my mother’s forbidden barren land to perfect it to a mango orchard. Yes father, the day since I realised that I can’t become an officer as per your aspiration, I have been working on our orchard.  After all, I’am a farmer’s son. Father, do you know, my hard work paid off as all the saplings I planted there have now grown up. After three or four years it will give you pretty good yield, Iam sure. I can say now that at least once I clinched success in my whole life, isn’t father?  But it was getting very bad for me a life without your support father... ... For me it’s you and you only that matters and nothing else. Father, I’ve struggled with that for last several years and now.......now it has become painfully honest to me that, I cannot bear it for any length of time.  True...I cannot. And it was on that day you expelled me from the house, I realised that fully. But how can I leave you and my poor mother? That day I went straight from our house to the city hospital and met a senior doctor. I expressed to him my willingness to donate any of my organs for money.  That day I got to know someone rich, who was in need of a kidney. Then we reached an agreement whereby he agreed to deposit three lakh rupees in your account. That amount, Iam sure, would suffice all your outstanding debts and good treatment for my mother. That was the least I could do in return to all your love and affection you showered when I was a kid but longed when I reached an age of knowing. Yes father, for years I hungered for a hug or a kiss or at least an affectionate gaze from you. I’ll never know how my life might have changed with that. It wouldn’t be too much to desire that as a son... isn’t father?    .
Finally father, I was never upset at you for anything you did nor do I have any feelings because I know u did that all for me. Unfortunately I didn’t get an opportunity to show that scar in my belly or that bigger one in my heart. Now that I've decided to erase those scars everlastingly, let the death be the one to hold me in an embrace so that all my agonies would fade away.
I feel guilty for leaving you and my beloved mother at this time. But I’ve no option father. Iam sure, you will have a tough time to console her. She is such a poor woman, I’am sure the almighty will take care of her.
Bye father... my eyes are filled with tears making it even harder for me to write. Once again I love you. I miss you father.

                           Yours ...ill-fated son...

For several minutes he squatted down on the stone , bent forward, covered his face with both hands with elbows on his knees. With tears still dripping down from his eyes, he stood up, once again glared at the letter and then slowly folded it and thrust it back into his pocket.
He hurriedly  walked through the narrow winding path to the barren land, wrapped in his old shawl and with his face muscles stretched to the limit that, it seems would burst at any moment. His eyes were turned red like that of burning coal. His long sturdy steps took him to the forbidden land in no time. There he could see before him, for the first time after several years, an orchard full of mango trees. Few of them, he thought, had grown to the height of his son.  A cool breeze made their leaves wave. He felt, to his utter dismay, that they were cursing him.
Suddenly he heard someone calling him from behind. He turned back like a mad man, raised his weary head and beheld in front of him, his son, calm and smiling, draped in dirt and mud all over his body. He was welcoming him to his healthy mango orchard with open hands.

"Oh..Father, come...see, how healthy our mango trees are..see..! Few more years and imagine how good a yield you would be getting"

Farmer found his son trudging towards him. When he reached so close, with a hoarse whisper the boy asked, 
"Now...at least now, you can accept me as a farmer ...isn’t father?”
 He smiled and then suddenly disappeared.
Farmer looked around, then heard somebody calling him again from behind.
“Father...." The voice was pleading.
"Can you embrace me please with all the love and affection just for once....father. I will fall at your feet and ask for forgiveness.... Please father....just for once, can't you...”

The farmer felt unbearably miserable. He sat there on the ground and then, unable to bear the sudden trembling all over his body, he bowed to the ground, sobbed brokenly and rumbled something inarticulate. A painful squeal  burst from his throat as tears dripped from his eyes..
He turned to one side and tried to get up on one knee. His heart was broken. Just for a moment he seemed to regain his senses and looked around and howled in a broken voice which came out as a hush wail from his throat.
“I’am coming ....my son...Don’t worry...I will embrace you and nothing will tear us apart, I promise"
Farmer stretched his body as if to stand up but then fell down flat on the ground again.

"I can’t leave you alone my son.... Shall I apply some medicine over your wound...? ...But then, why are you standing afar my son? I need your support. Can’t you see your father is old. Come...Come near me...let me embrace you...!”
His voice gradually faded into a thin moan. A pale smile frozen on his mud daubed lips as if he was in some sort of nice ecstasy. A drop of tear escaped his eye, sparkled in the frail sun light, and then fell down watered the parched land. 
Thick black clouds at a distance blots out the sun from sight as few big black ants scuttled over his body as if they were in a hurry..... 

NATURE'S LOUD REPRIMANDS

NATURE’S LOUD REPRIMANDS

Yesterday it has arrived. The phenomenon, I heard a lot but was waiting to see for long since my landing in the middle of this forest area in 2010. And when it came at last in all its majesty, it's devastated my camp area in just fifteen minutes. All was calm yesterday, 13^th April 2012, till 3 o’ clock in the afternoon. It was warm and fairly humid outside. A pale breeze was the first to come by. Suddenly I could hear the roaring of the wind from a distance. Dark clouds started to gather quickly across the mountain. Then a feeble rain came as a trailer. And....suddenly like a boisterous laugh of a poltergeist it came and crumbled on mother earth with a force par comparison.  Its wrathful growl sends shudders down the spine. The awesome power it carried along brought the trees down in a heap. The doors and windows battered vehemently against the wall and bended at last as if surrendered to its rage. Blistering thick lightning embellished the sky like an angry stroke of a frantic painter.  Super cooled ice crystals showered from sky like white gems. Stray dogs ran helter- skeltor as they couldn’t realize from where the stones, they scared of, were coming in abundance.

Fairly a summer season phenomenon, thunderstorms comes with strong winds, hailstones, powerful lightning, and heavy rain. This normally lasts for around thirty minutes in an area of approximately fifteen miles in diameter. It’s fairly easy to predict a thunderstorm as it shows all symptoms of a rain like dark clouds, wind and lightning. Gradually the winds would turn furious and the lightning, dangerous. And then, the rain followed by flash flood. Comes in three stages of ten minutes duration, the second stage of heavy rain and strong winds is much more dangerous because of falling trees and powerful lightning. It normally dissipates after approximately thirty minutes when the rainfall starts to die off. Once it’s over, you may just stroll around to see the devastations. Structural damage to properties, vehicles, fallen trees, destruction of power lines, dead livestock’s and of course even human injury or death.

This is one shot I've  taken from the safety of my room. I've posted few more videos in "My You-Tube Videos" for you to see with all it's link at the end. 
 My amateurish camera work may please be forgiven.

                                           THE FURY..........

{Thunderstorms begin when a parcel of warm, moist air begins to rise. As the air expands and cools, the water vapour within it condenses and forms a cloud.  If there is sufficient atmospheric instability, the heat released by condensation will keep the air inside the cloud warmer than the air surrounding it, enabling it to grow larger and higher. The power of the rising air, or updraft, keeps millions of water droplets in suspension until they become so heavy they fall as rain.

 Above the freezing line (typically 12,000 to 15,000 m above the ground in summer), the droplets form supercooled ice crystals that can grow into hailstones. When the thundercloud reaches the cumulonimbus stage and hits the tropopause (where temperature stops decreasing with height, around 12,000 m in summer), the jet stream tugs the cloud into its famous “anvil” shape, and the rising air in the cloud falls back to earth in cool, dry currents of air surrounding the warm, moist core of the storm. These downdrafts can pool at the bottom of the thunderstorm and create microbursts — brief, violent gusts of wind and rain. When the static buildup between the clashing air masses in a thunderstorm (the downdrafts carry a positive charge; the updrafts a negative one) triggers an electrical discharge, lightning forks through the sky at 145,000 km/s. The lightning heats the surrounding air, which expands at supersonic speeds, creating the mighty crashes we recognize as thunder.  (courtesy, Canadian atlas/ geographic online).}

And the devastation....

My few more 'devastation' videos, here.......  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMddKvl6NB8&feature=player_embedded

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-gJmAx85hs&feature=player_embedded

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=pbYrS2iOfTw

FEDERAL FUSION FORCE

Federal Fusion Force

(Time to think and unite)

Logo   designed by me for this dream project.....A blue thunder destroying a red sickle

                 The great battle of ‘Kurukshethra’ ended with victory of ‘Pandavas’ on the eighteenth day when Duryodhan was mortally wounded by Bheem in a fierce single combat with mace at Samanthapanchaka, a holy spot at Kurukshethra.   Aswathama, Krutavarma and Krupacharya were the only three survivors in the ‘Kaurava’ side. They met Duryodhan who was in a pool of blood and swore to him that they will kill all the Pandavas by any probable means. Duryodhana from his death bed made Aswathama the Commander-in Chief of the ‘Kaurava’ force.

               A very disturbed and restless Aswathama was seated sleepless under a huge banyan tree that night where he observed an owl attacking a crow’s nest and destroyed his prey to shreds. Learned the truth of nature, Aswathama, in a ruthless ambush, attacked the Pandava camp at midnight when everybody was asleep after a day long war. . Those who tried to flee from Aswathama’s wrath were hacked to death by Kripacharya and Krithavarma who placed themselves at the camp’s entrance. Rest is history- except Pandava brothers; the whole Pandava army was killed that night. The lesson Aswathama learned from that owl, was that, under the nature, a person can fight when he is strong. Can it be considered as the first guerilla camp attack in the history of conventional or sub conventional warfare? I wish my limited wisdom could fetch some more information about it.

                 Another camp attack had taken place centuries later at ‘Sardar Post’ on Gujarat border when a brigade level Pakistan Army mounted an attack on a CRPF post on April 9, 1965.  Brave soldiers of CRPF valiantly repulsed the attack at night gunning down 34 of Pakistani soldiers. To commemorate the battle of “Sardar Post” the Central Reserve Police Force celebrates this day, the 9th April as “valour Day”. Today being that auspicious day let us salute those valiant men who had sacrificed their lives at the call of duty in that battle.

                          Now let us come to the present. As of late, several such attacks on CRPF camps are being reported too often. But this time it’s not the Pakistani forces but our own countrymen disgruntled and damaged in the name of some antiquated ideology.  

First Action- Then Negotiation.

                So much has been said and wrote about the grave threat the naxalites are posing to our country. It is largely accepted that, the burgeoning naxalite threat is no more a law and order problem and is in fact a very complex social state of affairs and hence eradicating Naxalism from its roots is not seems to be their piece of cake as far as state police machinery is concerned. Notwithstanding some progress made with respect to suppressing the movement in Andhra Pradesh by political resurrections in the naxal affected areas blended with some coordinated police action, there have been no significant triumphs the affected states could claim in this regard.

                  Inequality in social and economical status is going to be there for long in India due to its democratic structure and it's vast diversity. Be it in terms of cast, religion or regional characteristics, any concrete solution to the social agitation elevated by the naxalites in the name of such disparity is not visible in any near horizon. “Win over the people” slogan by the intellectuals and human rights activists seems to be a forbidden task while considering stiff opposition by the Maoist themselves against any such move by the government. By propping up this issue, Naxalites have been wreaking havoc in the states of Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Bihar, Orissa and several other states in our country.  A consensual way towards reconciliation through a political settlement is by no means acceptable to the Maoist hardliners. Thus, in the wake of recent escalation in Maoists attack on security forces as well as on government establishments, it is imperative for us to act and act firmly towards finding a solution to this menacing issue which can grow as a demon.

.                 As widely believed in the so called intellectual circuit, Naxalism is no more an ideology rooted in socioeconomic disparities or a struggle of an alienated class. It is rather a movement that has grown steadily in the vast tracts of rural India and evolved gradually into extremism in urban centres too with obvious intention to overthrow the established authority of the government through armed rebellion. Even though it is universally accepted that no insurgency can be won over militarily, a political solution to this problem is possible only when the Maoist also desires so. In the present scenario they do not want a political solution as they genuinely believe that they are in a state of dictating terms at least in some places where they think they are impregnable. Their top leaders view far into the future setting their target of an armed rebellion achieved in 25 to 50 years. As long as they are on wining spree and deem themselves out of harm's way at their hideouts, they will never assent to negotiate.  They scrupulously believe that they can over run a security camp at their will and ambush the security forces where they think the troops least expect such an attack. Since Naxalism is far more wide spread to be called an intra-state insurgency, effective dealing could only be carried out by the central government as the state governments have become passive spectators who failed miserably to crackdown on Maoists. In a system where, even the postings of senior police officers are decided inside the party offices, a clear plan of action and its impeccable execution is near impossible until and unless a strong political will is exhibited by the state government. As the state governments have been completely neutralized in the areas where naxals are having sufficient hold, it has become inevitable for central government to think seriously about imposing 'Disturbed Areas Act'  and 'Armed Forces Special Power Act' with immediate effect in those states.  No political considerations are to be taken into account as vote bank requirements should never be considered above human lives. Separate judicial system even at the cost of major judicial reforms should be established for speedy trial for the cases related to Naxalism. Large scale massacre as we have seen at Chintalnar, Lalgarh, Koraput, Gadchiroli etc are simply a strategy of terror. Their ideology that, the ‘manner of killing should frighten more than the killing itself’, is indeed contrary to their image as saviors of poor and downtrodden.

Clear and Clean

                        In the present security scenario, our strategy of “Clear, Hold and Build” in naxal affected areas is in itself time consuming and impractical. Our strategy, in plain words should be “Clear and Clean”.   Here we have to be very solid and tangible about the word clean. It is not just about eradicating the armed naxalites but also to clean the minds of our tribal population which is now highly debauched by the negative propaganda of Maoists. The decisions are there to be taken and to be taken in appropriate time. We may not discuss here the social, economic or cultural problems prevalent in these areas or other such issues like development, poverty eradication or empowerment as they are being constantly discussed among the political as well as administrative circles for quite long.

                        With a dream of “Red flag in Red fort” by 2025, naxalites are working in close coordination with some terrorist outfits operating in J&K even though no concrete evidence of any such memorandum of understanding has come out in the open. In the wake of such reckless agendas our hostile neighbors hold discreetly, we should take resolute actions with immediate effect before things get out of our hands. And very importantly, it should be time bounded and result oriented.

               Since the ultimate objective of Maoist and the package of the government for negotiation are in fact contradictory, let us now talk in the language which they better understand. Substantive talks on a permanent solution to this problem between government and Maoist are possible only when they potentially think that they are getable. Let us first understand specifically that, the issues which the government addressed as a solution to the ongoing naxal menace is not at all in any way correlate with the agendas of the naxalites, which according to the government is in fact a strike at the very root of our nation. There can not be a soft approach to a problem which directly affects the existence of a democratic system. General perception among the common man in India is that, left wing extremism is an issue between security forces and Maoists and hence they are not much worried over the developments in the naxal affected areas. Whereas sympathy towards the security forces fighting against naxalites heightened particularly after the massacre in Chintalnar and Gadchiroli.

                   Let us take the example of SLAF action against LTTE in Srilanka in a different perspective.  Terrorism prevailed in the north-eastern province of that country has been completely wiped out, at least for the time being, in an unprecedented military action.  They were forced to initiate such an action, literally when they came across a situation where the very existence of that country was endangered. LTTE was in fact allowed to grow larger than the boots by domestic as well as international negotiations for long. Whereas the militants utilized the peace time for procuring arms from external agencies and thereby strengthen their combat preparedness. But ultimately all the concerns about human right violations and other social, economic and cultural agendas are sorted out by an all out military action. Nobody said anything except few paltry politicians here and there. Do we need to head towards the same state of affairs prevailed in Srilanka is the question of the hour. Do we need to wait till Maoists buildup an Air force squadron or UAV’s?  LWE in the other hand has not developed to a stage as LTTE were. They are now in a mobile war fare phase but hold a clear agenda of strengthening their military power prior to a shift to conventional war. In the wake of recent intelligence reports, clearly establishing the links between ISI and LWE, such a possibility could not be ruled out in distant future. Their pyramidal organizational structure similar to LTTE makes them a formidable unit for attaining the same in long term perspective.

                  No fast developing nation can afford to deal with a problem with an uncertain solution for long. Hindrances are to be removed quickly to ensure the rapid development. By telling this, I shall never advocate mass killings of tribal population or even harming their faith on our democracy. What iam intended to say is to rescue them from the clutches of misdemeanors. Maoists should be told that they are vulnerable to our strikes which will coerce them to the negotiation table in the wake of their increasing boldness in carrying out attack against the union of India.

Federal  Fusion Force  (Need of the hour)

                   Several setbacks incurred by the Central Paramilitary Forces from the hands of Maoist are mainly due to the territorial and dialectal disadvantage they face in hostile areas. Incredibly vast expanse of forest land has made conquering them a daunting task for a few units of Para-Military forces and other state armed forces.  Reports that security personnel in Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand are wary of venturing into jungles has obvious reasons. As a matter of fact, field commanders of the CPMFs and their counterparts in the state police machinery often differs in strategies and tactics. I don’t want to generalize the issue.  But the ground reality is that, the mistrust and differences are prevalent among them in almost all states where massive central Para-Military forces are deployed. Both agencies think it’s more comfortable to carry out operations independently. A discussion on the reasons for such mistrust would be a farce exercise as we all are well verse with it. But this lack of coordination among the central and state security forces is one such serious factor affecting our plan to eradicate Naxalism from our country. Allegations and counter allegations against each other add fuel to this intricate issue. Despite of several instructions from the Home ministry, exchange of intelligence inputs among the forces are not effectively forthcoming due to obvious reasons. It’s according to me a “saas-bahu syndrome” which is difficult to subside. Due to inadequate motivation and lack of training, state police forces choose themselves to act as a supporting cast to the central forces although it is agreed upon that the paramilitary forces are there to assist the state police. By virtue of their familiarity with the topography and also the local dialect, state police personnel are in a better shape to fight Left wing extremists in their respective territories. Intricate political arrangements in many states often act as a major hindrance to the successful implementation of the strategies aimed to the eradication of naxalism.  Red tapism is more prevalent in the states where administration is largely being influenced by the party offices.  . Since the main problem lies with the whole system, an amicable solution to curb the menace of red-terrorism is not seems to be immediately possible. Hence it becomes pertinent to think about those options which are practical and implemental.

                  Let us now seriously think about a deputation organization in the likes of NSG or the much successful Grey Hounds to fight Maoists in their territory with an equal involvement of central paramilitary forces and state police force.  No need to talk about the latest gadgets, communication system or armory.  Special emphasis should be given in selecting only the young and intelligent personal from both forces apposite for clandestine jungle operations. The task force thus constituted should be autonomous and armed with special powers to arrest and detain, aided with enhanced infrastructural facilities and should be well paid. They should operate from peace areas and return back to their stations for cooling before setting out for another operation.

              Since we already have the well trained and extremely robust CoBRA units with high motivation and energy, let us feed them with what they lack. Let us think about inserting a fixed percentage of state police personnel, including dynamic IPS officers who have determined understanding about the subject from each naxal affected states on deputation basis to CoBRA and restructure the CoBRA units as a deputation force under the direct control of Home Ministry or Cabinet secretariat.  Let us not shy away from accepting the facts, at least for the better interest of the nation that, as of now the operations are being done by some, whereas the intelligence inputs are being kept with someone else. Such a pity!  My suggestion is, if needed the parliament may enact a law in this regard which will dissuade unnecessary influences from political leaders as well as other external agencies. All operations against LWE should be conducted by this special federal force based on actionable intelligence and by using numerous armed force camps in the forest as their rendezvous points.

                 Evaluation and dissemination of important information is not a subject which can be handled by layperson. A meticulous intelligence setup including trained IB officers should be deputed to the force with an extensive surveillance mechanism including aerial surveillance system and imaging technology. They will coordinate with their counterparts in IB for effective ground support.    Exchange of information and effective verification needs a satellite based integrated network providing direct communication from one station to other. Assistance from the ISRO and Air force is important as they are much needed catalyst for conflict resolution.  Utilization of Air Force shall be limited to ‘air power’ but not ‘air strikes’ as it will result in huge civilian causalities which would in later course prompt more people joining the insurgent groups which will aggravate the problem. What I try to say is the need of a pinpoint resolute action targeting the armed insurgents only. Air assistance will also act as a huge morale booster for the ground troops as it will forewarn them and guide them in hot pursuits.

              The force should track the movements of members of central military commission; divisional commanders, guerrilla squads etc to carry out targeted liquidation of them acted upon by meticulous intelligence input. They should cutoff the smuggling routes by arresting suspected suppliers of ration and other logistics to Maoists. Striking at their communication centers and armory by making use of thermal images and other sophisticated gadgets would add to their tasks. 

             Other CRPF contingents which are deployed in the highly infested areas will give adequate ground support by laying outer and inner cordons to maintain pressure tactics on the insurgents so that they will be forced to fight from their weakness. They may also concentrate on civic action programmes and other propaganda tactics by highlighting the in-humanitarian standards and atrocities of Maoists. Likewise they can collect a lot of intelligence from the local informers who will give it without fear once they are taken into confidence. They will act as a close nit grid for special operations of the Federal Fusion Force. They will also act as a protective cover to the government machinery in carrying out developmental works in the remote tribal areas in long run once the Naxalism is wiped out and will take care of the damage control works and civic action.

Conclusion

                       A soft approach towards the LWE with good governance and civic action programmes are not just the sole solution to this issue. Maoists use such action by the government to declare it as their success in forcing the government to resolve the issues with their propaganda skills. Impoverished tribal would believe that. Targeted liquidation of armed cadres will disintegrate this menace.  Differences apart, let us tackle the common enemy with iron fist by fusing topographical advantage of the state police and the man power strength of the central police. Let us unite and fight. Let the enemy do not take the advantage of our division. No more lives of security personnel should be sacrificed and not a single attack on security installation be allowed. Life of each security personnel is precious

         This is just a suggestion that has cropped up in my limited wisdom whereupon reading a lot of news regarding operational failures from the part of security forces due to the lack of intelligence inputs. As a person who among the first to intrude into the liberated zones of Maoist territory by commanding a CRPF company during 2006 and thereby played an active role in establishing the largest Salwa Judam Camp in one of the most vulnerable areas of Dantewade district, Dornapal, my  own field experiences have also contributed a bit in making this article. 

I fully understand that there are many things, political and constitutional, to be addressed before enacting a federal striking force in our country. This is with an intention to share something that has been in my mind since long to my peers in this field for your suggestions and opinions, particularly from those who have a different view on this which Iam sure will improve my grey cells.    …. “Jai Hind”