Not Kumanan

Sunday dusk, at the Marina beach. Near the police booth next to the Gandhi statue. A lady was dissolving into hysterics. An occasional gasping howl.

Most of us didn't know what was going on. Maybe somebody had stolen her purse. Or worse, molested her.

The young policemen next to her looked about helplessly. Someone gave her a bottle of water, which she gulped; but spilt most of it on the grass.

There was a man holding a child next to her. He was quietly talking to another policeman. The lady started howling and ran here and there among the grass, screaming at the sky and the sea.

I looked at her in confusion, as did some of the public. My cousin's wife, standing next to me, muttered, "I think she lost a kid".

Oh God. The man with the small child must be the father. He has to look for his other child, without losing his grip on this one. Or his grip on sanity, as his wife was slowly going to pieces.

A sea of humanity, full of life, our beloved Marina, suddenly seemed a terrifying dark abyss. What do you do in this scenario? Could the police lock down the beach? Not a chance. Could they search for and find the child? What are the odds? Could we help? Or would we make it worse, if we tried?

The policemen must see something like this every time there is a large public gathering. What would be the psychological effect on them, if they had to see or experience something like this once or twice a month?

Our media, social consciousness, society often portray the police as heartless or brutal. Or incompetent. Or corrupt.

The woman at the beach had come a complete circle, still shaking and in tears. The man with the child was just standing there and slowly looking about. There were two policemen, one inside, one outside the booth doing nothing. Is our media and film industry correct? Are these guys in khaki uniforms just thugs working for white veshti crooks?

I remembered a school day incident when I came home at 8pm instead of 4.30 because I was angry with my father for scolding me severely that morning. I only returned home because I didn't know where else to go. My anger hadn't cooled, I wasn't hungry, I wasn't tired. I came back home because I didn't know what else to do. I spent the time between 4 and 8 in Nageshvara Rao Park. I rarely ever went inside the park, even though I walked past it back from school every evening. My favorite place was the playground across my house. If my parents had to search for me, where would they look?

Anyway, when I returned home, my father said nothing. I don't remember his expression. My mother wondered why I was so late but immediately laid out a plate and served dinner. I don't remember either parents' expression. I was too self absorbed in my own righteousness and justified anger. Only my grandmother was expressive, but I only vaguely remember her happiness. It is one of the great fortunes of my life that I don't remember much about the incident.

All this flashed through my mind as the drama played out on the beach. I wanted to leave, I didn't want to know how this tragedy would unfold. That kid would never be found... He would be exploited by a beggar gang or worse a criminal gang. Or worse.....Irresponsible parents, useless police, I thought. Even if they wanted to help what the hell could they do?

A policeman in a khaki uniform came running up the grass with a child in his arm. The woman screamed at the child in Telugu. I don't know the words, but we all understood......Where did your run away...after all, its the child's fault, he was irresponsible.

Apparently some of our police can do the impossible. They can find a needle in a haystack, a lost child in a sea of humanity, in the dusk, in fading light, when we can barely see each other.

There was no applause. Nobody yelled at the woman. The father didn't collapse in emotion. The rescued child didn't cry. The policemen did not get any public appreciation. No cameras flashed though everyone had a mobile phone. No journalist showed up. The policemen didn't break out into smiles of relief and pat each other on the back. The watching people went back to their previous activities.

And we left.

We simply left.

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Alfred Russel Wallace

January 8 is the birth anniversary of Alfred Russel Wallace. Last year, I was given an opportunity to write this essay for the online edition of New Indian Express by R Venkatasubramaniam. I share this now on my blog, partly named after him. 

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Charles Darwin and Theory of Evolution are famous. But how many know that Darwin was not the only person who discovered either evolution, or its primary mechanism, Natural Selection? How many know of Alfred Russel Wallace, one of the greatest biologists the world has known?

Most of us learn from textbooks in schools. But often, text books, especially on science, are dry collections of facts, which offer neither context nor history to great discoveries or adventures. It is the great failure of poets, novelists and filmmakers, that they rarely laud the accomplishments of great scientists or engineers, even though the world we live in has been dramatically modernized, modified and made a wonderful place because of their superhuman talents and efforts.

Wallace was as great a scientist as Newton and Darwin!

Wallace as a young man

Alfred Wallace was born in England, in a family that was poor but educated. His father died when he was seven. So he joined his elder brother William as an apprentice surveyor. While traversing the countryside surveying land, he was fascinated by plants and began collecting them. Darwin was already famous in England, because he had traveled around the world for five years in a British ship called HMS Beagle, studying biology, and had written a very popular book, “The Voyages of the Beagle.” Darwin himself had been inspired by the travels and adventures of Alexander von Humboldt, a German scientist. Humboldt’s book “Personal Narrative of a Journey to the Equinoctial Regions of the New Continent” caused a sensation in Europe.

In India, even in school, we read about the travels of Fa Hien and Hiuen Tsang, Buddhist pilgrims; ibn Batuta, a lawyer; and Marco Polo, a businessmen. Humboldt was the first modern scientist whose travelogues became famous. The New Continent was America; it was Humboldt’s accounts of the Amazon that awed and inspired Darwin and a whole generation of adventurous Naturalists. (The word science was coined only in the 19th century; before that scientists were called Naturalists or Natural Philosophers). Darwin himself traveled to South America, to the coral islands of the Pacific, to Australia and New Zealand. On the ship Darwin read Charles Lyell’s book on geology, and saw evidence of geological phenomena wherever he went, and understood how much geology influenced biology. He formed several ideas about evolution but did not yet publish them.

The young Wallace went to public libraries and read pamphlets written and printed by popularizers of Natural Philosophy. One book that inspired Wallace was Lindsey’s “Elements of Botany.”

In 1848, an economic recession gripped England; Wallace lost his job. He enrolled in Mechanical College, a low cost school set up by industrialists to educate poor youth. There he befriended Henry Bates, another keen naturalist. They read Humboldt and Darwin and dreamed of voyages to the Amazon and discovering new species. In those days, rich collectors in Europe were fascinated by collections of butterflies, beetles, fossils, exotic plants etc and would pay naturalists good money for rare collections. Wallace and Bates hoped to sell such collections to finance their travel and scientific pursuits. They got a chance to travel to South America. For four years they explored the Amazon and its tributaries, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They suffered from all kinds of diseases, barely escaping death a few times. Alfred’s brother who accompanied them was not so lucky; he died of a tropical disease, and Alfred only found out months later. Wallace meticulous collected thousands of species of insects birds reptiles; drew several thousands sketches, and shipped some to his agent in London, who sold a few. But he did not form any scientific theories or publish any papers.

In 1852, he set sail for England. (Bates continued in South America for seven more years.) Misfortune hounded Wallace. His ship caught fire mid-sea. He lost almost all his collections, painstakingly gathered over four years. Wallace escaped on a life boat with some others, but they almost died of thirst before they were rescued by another ship. Wallace returned to England almost as poor as he left it, but his agent had insured his collection, so he was able to salvage some money.

In 1854, Wallace set sail for Singapore, and explored the islands there for the next eight years. and wrote a book about their biology, The Malay Archipelago. He noticed something strange – the birds and animals of Bali were remarkably different from those of Lombok, though both islands were only fifteen kilometers apart. Species on one island, related to Australian species, were totally absent on the other with Asian species; and vice versa. He realized this was true of several islands. Wallace hypothesized that in the remote past one group of islands had been part of Asia, the other part of Australia, and their geological break up was reflected in their species differences. He drew a line on the map demarcating this geological break; this line was later named the Wallace Line by Thomas Huxley. The field of Bio-geography was born, created by Wallace!

He wrote letters to Darwin, who occasionally responded . His first scientific essay on speciation, excited Darwin’s geology guru Lyell, but neither Darwin nor other naturalists were impressed. 

Meanwhile, Lyell urged Darwin to publish his theory of Evolution, but Darwin delayed. Wallace mailed a second essay titled On the Tendency of Varieties to depart indefinitely from the Original Type, which hit Darwin like a bombshell. Darwin was astounded that someone far away with no scientific reputation had so brilliantly and concisely summarised Darwin’s theory.

He regretted having ignored Lyell’s advice on publishing. He lamented that he had lost his precedence of discovery. His conscience would not allow him to betray Wallace’s confidence. But Lyell and Hooker, another naturalist, persuaded Darwin to let them present Darwin and Wallace’s theories jointly, which they did at the Linnaean Society in June 1858.

It was then that Wallace’s greatest act of decency came shining through. He applauded Lyell and Hooker, and thanked them for not taking away the rightful credit of Darwin’s two decades of work and the fame discovery from Darwin! He even published a book titled Darwinism, which explained evolution more clearly and eloquently than Darwin!

References

1.      Darwin’s Armada, Iain McCalman

2.      Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection, Alfred Russel Wallace

My Blogs on Biology

1. ஆல்பிரட் வாலஸ் கண்டு ரசித்த சொற்கத்தின் பறவைகள் 

2. Smt Radhika Parthasarathy's Summary of my book review of Darwin's Armada

3. Plant Diversity

4. Plant fossils near Madras
5. SymbioGenesis - Lynn Margulis' Supplement to Theory of Evolution
6. கப்பலோடிய ஆங்கிலேயர்
7. Astounding Statistic - Domination of Land Plants

நல்வினை பெயல்நீர்

The English version of this essay, On Human Kindness, is here

2014இல் ஆங்கிலத்தில் நான் எழுதிய பதிவின் தமிழாக்கம்.

சமீபத்தில் (ஜனவரி 2014இல்) குஜராத் சென்றேன். அங்குள்ள மக்களின் அன்பும் உதவியும் விருந்தோம்பலும் பெருந்தன்மையும் நெகிழ வைத்தது. குஜராத்தில் மட்டுமல்ல, புனேவிலும், ஹைதராபதிலும், சென்னைக்கு திரும்பி வந்தபின், நம் ஊரிலும். சுகமான பயணத்தையோ பொழுதையோ கெடுக்க ஒரு அற்ப செயலோ, கடின சொல்லோ போதும். நாவினால் பட்ட வடு நல்ல அனுபவத்தில் நஞ்சை கலக்கும். யானோ உத்தமன்? பல முறை யானே கள்வன். பலமுறை பட்ட வலியுமுண்டு. ஆனால் அறிமுகமற்ற நல்லோரும் வல்லோரும் புது நண்பர்களும் தன்னலமற்ற உதவி செய்து உபசரித்து அன்பாக பேசி எண்ணற்ற முறை மலைக்கவைத்துள்ளனர். இயற்கை காட்சிகளின் எழிலை ரசிப்பதும் இன்சுவை விருந்தை ருசிப்பதும் கண்கவர்ந்த கலையில் திளைப்பதும் நன்றே. அதனினும் நன்றே, நன்றி அறிந்து, நயம்பட நவில்தல்.

பெறுக பெறுபவை பிசகற பெற்றபின்

நவில்க நன்றியை நன்று

என்ற எழுதாகிளவியை என்னுள் ஆய்ந்து, நொந்து நூடுல்ஸாய் போன உள்ளங்களுக்கு கொஞ்சம் நீவி நீவி நெகிழ்ந்து நவில்கிறேன்.

முகம் சுளித்துக்கொண்டே நல்லுதவி பெற்றேன் பூஜ் நகரில். ரயில் பயணச்சீட்டை அச்செடுக்க தேடிச்சென்றால் ஒரு கணினி/அச்சு/இணையம் கடை தேட மேலும்கீழும் அலைந்து, ஒரு பயண ஏற்பாட்டாளர் கடையில் வழிகேட்க நுழைந்தேன். அவரே இணையத்தில் பார்த்து சீட்டை அச்செடுத்து கொடுத்து நான் காசு நீட்ட, பாரதியாரை சுண்டுவிரலால் வினவின நம்பூதிரி போல் என்னை ஒரு விரல் காட்டி துரத்திவிட்டார். முருகனை நாவல் பழம் கேட்க, யாளி மாம்பழம் கொடுத்த கதை.

ஏனோ நல்வினைகளை விட அநீதிகளே நம் மனதில் நீண்ட காலம் நிற்கிறது. இனிய உளவாத இன்னாத கூறுதலே எளிமையாய் உள்ளதே, ஏன்? பொறுத்து பூமி ஏதும் ஆளவேண்டாம், சிறுதுன்பத்தை தாங்கி ஒரு நிமிடம் நாவினை அடக்கி, உறுமாமல் இருத்தலே போதும்.

நண்பர்களின் நல்லுள்ளமும் நற்சொல்லும், எம்முறை கேளிர் எவ்வழி அறிதும் என்று கேட்க முடியாத மாற்றாரும், நம் உள்ளத்து செம்புலத்தில் பெயல்நீராய் நல்வினை பொழிய, நம் ஊடகங்களிலும் மன்றங்களிலும் சினமும் வெறுப்பும் அசூயையும் தலைவிரித்து ஆடுகின்றன. அதைவிட கொடுமை சுற்றாரையும் சூழ்ந்தோரையும் வசைபாடுதல்; அவரிடம் வசை படுதல்.

சமீபமாக ஒன்றும் வசை படவில்லை, திட்டவில்லை, சபிக்கவில்லை. இரண்டு மாதங்களாக அன்பு மழையிலும்,  பாராட்டு தென்றலிலும், புகழார பூமாரியிலும் திளைத்து  திணறி மலைத்துக்கொண்டிருக்கிறேன். ஆயினும் அவ்வப்பொழுது சம்பந்தமில்லாமல் கோவமும் குரோதமும் பொங்கி வருகிறது. நல்லவேளை, சீக்கிரமே சித்தம் தெளிந்து சிரித்து விடுகிறேன். “When it is a deep, dark November in your soul”,  (“கார்த்திகை மாத கார்மேகம் ஆன்மாவை கறுக்கும்போது”) என்று மோபி டிக் நாவலில் ஹெர்மன் மெல்வில் எழுதினார். செம்பரிதி சுடர்வீசும் அன்புசூழ் உலகில் ஆன்மா ஏன் கறுக்கவேண்டுமோ?

நீங்கள் இந்த கட்டுரையை ரசித்தால், இவற்றையும் ரசிக்கக்கூடும்

1. அன்பளிப்பு 
2. சாதா விந்தையின் ஆறா ரசிகன் 
3. வெள்ளைக்காரரா? 

The few and the many

There are no chosen few
It is that there are but few who choose themselves
There are no silent many
It is that many choose to stay silent
And speak their voice another day.

They also serve who only stand and wait
They also grieve who do not cry at death
Their tears are simply not for public view
They also laugh whose faces seldom smile
Their laughs are sadly few and far between

They also have their dignity
Whom food and shelter lack
They also have their divinity
Whom the Gods and grace have shunned
They also have their several wealths
Whom only poverty has clothed
They also have their several arts
Whom only ignorance has lettered
They also have their honour
Who are humbled by the mighty

The greatest heights that mankinds's thoughts may soar
The awful depths these self-same thoughts might delve
The noblest deeds that by plan or not be done
The basest acts that by force or consent be decreed
These are but tidal lines drawn upon the shore
Till later waves erase and redraw lines anew

There are no finished flows of thought
There are no finished works of art
There are but seeds that people sow
That their sons and daughters may one day know
What they loved and loathed and admired and feared
What was awesome, bold or petty, what inspired, what weird.

Note
I wrote this poem in July 2003. The other poems in my blog are in Tamil.

Erdos on Madras 
An Englishman's tamil inscription 
On human kindness 
Gift of a Magus 
Traffic - LMS 
எடிசன் வாழ்த்து

On Human Kindness

On a recent trip to Gujarat, I encountered so much warmth and human kindness, from so many strangers - it was remarkable. Not just in Gujarat- in Pune, in Hyderabad and back in Madras. Usually one small bad experience, an act of rudeness or casual contempt, is all it takes to ruin an otherwise splendid day or experience or conversation. Often I have been the culprit, sometimes the victim. But there were several instances of incredible friendliness, genuine warmth, from total strangers, and more often from friends and new acquaintances. It is one thing to remember fondly, the lovely monuments, sumptuous meals, and gorgeous sunsets and beautiful landscapes, but by far better to sincerely feel gratitude, and express it. I wish I could repay the kindnesses, the service, the smiles, even the grouchy ungracious favours – I got a train ticket printed for free by a travel agent in Bhuj when I was looking for a browsing center, who then waved away my offer of money : have you ever been “blessed” by a surly favour?

Why does an injustice rankle long after the glow of kindness fades? Why is it so much easier to speak a harsh word than hold one’s tongue, or bear for a moment a minor nuisance, than react with anger or disdain, and just make the whole thing worse? Perhaps it is just me; I hope so.

The kindness of strangers and the decency of friends also seems starkly to contrast with viciousness of public discourse, and the venom with which people treat someone they profess to love, or are expected to love. “When it is a deep, dark November in your soul” wrote Melville in Moby Dick. Why deep dark November in the soul when sunlight bathes your world and warmth caresses your surroundings, I wonder.

And yet…