The Story of a Baby Bird

2nd June was my 2nd vax day. After all the confusions, frustrations and endless waiting that we were collectively going through --- was no mean achievement, this one. It did not start very well though. The hospital in which my appointment was at 9 am and where we reached at 8:45 made us wait for about 45 minutes to tell us the vaccines have not arrived yet. In the meantime, a crowd started forming on the footpath in front of the hospital, where the hospital staff threw in like 5 or 6 chairs. Almost like a habit, a queue started forming -- a long one, there was no question of maintaining the any kind of distance. Queuing and crowing to get a  vaccine to prevent the most infectious disease in our history is such an amazingly paradoxical thing to do! And this is one of the fun things that you get to witness in this new world. Do check my little video made with the clippings that I made earlier on.

 

 

Anyway, not being particularly fond of standing in a crowded line for anything, leave alone for this vaccine in the middle of a pandemic, I decided to quit. Just thought of giving a check whether any other vaccine Centers are available nearby. And there was one. This one went relatively smoothly. Though there was some mismanagement there was no crowding .

 

But this blog is not the story of my triumphant vaccination. This one is about a little bird. An Indian Myna. Not the more common one with broad yellow eyeliner, but the one with a little headgear on top of their beak. They are called Jungle Myna, I think. In any case, early in the morning, when the queue was yet to form in front of the first hospital, when the chairs were enough, as no more than five/ six people were waiting for the vaccine (henceforth vaxiniaries) at that time, a Jungle Myna, a baby one, landed on a lady's head.  The lady, being considerably perturbed, offered the chair to the Mayna and decided to take a walk. The bird was either too young to understand that we are a danger to her or had a freeze reaction to danger. It just sat there staring blankly at the make-shift pandal that was set up for the vaxiniaries. A couple of other fully grown Mynas, presumably the parents, started raising a ruckus in the trees nearby. But the baby bird paid no attention to them, sat still on the chair. We vaxiniaries all got interested. I stroked its head a little. An elderly gentleman sitting next to it tried to get the bird to sit on his forefinger. A young girl noticed that a couple of crows that looked suspiciously curious. A small team formed to shoo the crows away. a few minutes passed after which the baby bird finally left the chair to sit on that gentleman's forefinger. Everybody hurriedly started giving opinions about where it should be released. but before a consensus could be formed the baby bird flew to the tree where the parents were.

 

That was the story. It was worth being written about, wasn't it? It is not too small,  too mundane. right? In the time where a terrifying disease is destroying the world we knew, when death and devastation is everyday news, where fear has a firm grip on our collective mind, a set of worried people, with their faces hidden behind layers of clothing, got together to save a bird. Somewhere else in the same city,  young people were risking their lives to arrange oxygen and medication for a sick person who they are going to meet for the first time. In another house, some others were making arrangements for delivering homemade food to some unknown people who are too sick and weak to do it themselves. a child was writing "get well soon" on the food packets. Doctors who caught the virus were fighting hard to stand back on their feet so that they can go straight back to doing what they were doing before they fell sick. These are not trivial events. This is the history of our time in the making. Maybe a change is coming. Maybe this crisis is awakening the natural kindness hidden deep inside of us, maybe it is teaching us about the strength of solidarity, maybe it is making us aware of the deep connection every little being on earth has with each other, making us instinctively want to protect the other who was a stranger to us. 

 

 

Life is thrown off gear a little bit. But that is nothing new. That is the way life is, it gets thrown off gear once in a while. The new thing now is that it has happened to all of us at the same time. We now understand and feel the stranger's pain a lot better, because we are going through it ourselves. Maybe that is what will make us want to broaden our little circles enough to include the whole world in them. Maybe we will, at last, engrave the value of  Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam in the core of our hearts instead of on buildings.  Maybe this will make us want to wish that every little bird survives and be able to fly back to the trees and we do what we can to ensure that it does.

 

 

A Pete Seeger song is stuck in my head for the last few days.

 

There's a time to laugh but there's a time to weep
A time to make a big change
Wake up, you bum, the time has come
To arrange and rearrange and rearrange

 

 

 

silchar revisited

while two unfinished posts are lying there in my blog dashbord (on allergies and laziness, how apt!) ... here am I starting another one,

I know this is not a good sign

unfinished projects....disorganisation...impatience ... messyness... all these signals some kind of psychosomatic disorder ... or something of the sort, I read somewhere ... or was it just some grandma's superstitious saying to make children work hard?

of course i don't remember ... forgetfulness is another of my many flaws

anyway, I must write a blog about my February visit to Silchar

the place which, among other things, inspired some of my initial blogs

like this one, this one and this one

(I cannot believe I used to bulk mail these postings, and to people I am not in touch with right now, embarrassing!)

anyway, this time it was a seminar -- of course it has to be a seminar, I feel guilty about travelling for just for the sake of it-- the stay was for five days only--could not be expanded as i was doing some seminar hopping during that period, -- and it was on Indigenous and Endangered Languages, something that has been on my mind for the last five years -- something that - again- was inspired by Silchar, and my stint at Assam University, during my interaction with the colourful, multilingual, multiracial student community.

 But I was also excited about just being there after five years... of course there are a number of reasons to feel like this... but in this blog I will not analyse... and not analyse why I will not analyse.

The plane landed and I immediately liked the sight of that small airport, of the ridiculously security less lounge and the slow pace of everything around it, of the amiable relaxed police-men, of my friends coming to pick me up

one of the changes that happened since I left is that everybody's driving---almost everyone --- and most showing off brand new cars-- but more importantly they were driving -- in that dangerous hilly terrain uneven dusty road with slopes where its impossible to see where you are going before you actually start going down and bends that act similarly and ditches here and steep mountains there— and to add to all that some of them refuse to give gaddas their due respect.Does not bother slowing down.

And the second change is that a baby boom happened—every where I go, there is an army of three to thirty six months olds out to kill you with deadly cuteness­.

And silchar also noticed a few changes in me – namely the 12+ kgs that I have acquired. Recognition of it went from a subtle ‘ you look a little different’ to a more honest “madam khub mota hoisen”. Well, who’s to blame? I don’t need to huff and puff and go on a trek for reaching one department to another anymore. It’s pretty much home-taxi-university-taxi-home routine now. Besides as Einstein said “The devil has put a penalty on all things we enjoy in life. Either we suffer in health or we suffer in soul or we get fat.” link to petpujo

The university also changed a bit, the auditorium where the conference was held, was not there. The gate that was being built when I left, is now complete. Many departments have moved to the new buildings at the extreme end of the campus, which seemed like the end of earth – its such a big campus!

But what was surprising is that in spite of it all the changes, it seemed like it was yesterday, not five years since I was there. It still felt a little bit like I belong there. This is not to romanticize. I do remember it was not the easy being there. it was difficult academically. Young library. Very small department. Frequent power-cut. Scarce net connectivity. Most of all, it was very very different from everything that I was used to. But I am proud that I made it all my own.

Silchar taught me that you have to like a place on its own terms … or suffer it

stranger in a strange land

it is first of all it is strange that that i have no blog entries for three months
... strange the last entry was written by pete seeger
... a couple of entries before that, the translations, were plucked from my book on translation
...the three linguistics related posts before that are actually reproduction of writings by different authors


SO I HAVE NOT ACTUALLY POSTED ANYTHING FOR ABOUT TWO YEARS!!!!


of course i can say

1. i have been busy ... teaching .. research ...family and social life...(brag brag)
2. i still dont have that super slim super light super small computer with super fast net connection (grunt grunt)
3. nobody reads these posts any way (sigh sigh)

however, the real reason is the same as that for which i dont exercise, go crazy trying finish papers on time, haven't yet finished so many of those great books i collected and dont even meet friends as often

... laziness...

if i can really get over this .. i will probably write about laziness (ironically there is a draft on the topic lying there for 5 months)
but this one is about my trip to China


six months have passed, and i have already forgotten quite a bit
but it does not matter .. its not about minute descriptions ...
it is about feeling like a stranger... in a .. well may be not that strange a land
the part of china i visited was not that different from kolkata
tall buildings, shopping malls, flyovers...
except that it all seemed a lot cleaner... lot lot bigger and there are fewer people
what really struck as strange, as is often the case, people...
and its not how they look... but how they are
and it so happened here that i struck as strange to them
and its not how i am .. its how i look
this is the first time i felt so conscious of my brownness
it, mixed with language barrier, made some people bluntly ignore me when i am asking for help and at other times made complete stranger come up and chat with me.
most people i met across street outside the campus, and i did manage to make quite a few walks outside, would give look at me be startled or raise their eyebrows, whisper among themselves and even giggle. one lady, cycling a rickshaw actually gave me a surprised stare, and laughed out loud.
i was really impressed by these rickshaw pulling, bus driving ladies
they looked tough and comfortable in their skin.
seen some of them put their feet up, and fold their arms behind their head and relax in their vehicle while waiting for the passengers.
one of the Chinese delegates, who said that i am the only indian she ever met, told me that we indians look like the whites, except that we are black...'you have big eyes and big nose' she explained with a sigh.
and they are such beautiful people, babies are the cutest, students at the university looked like they are straight out of some fashion magazines, dressed to perfection
they were tall with glowing spotless skin and shining hair.
a visit to the supermarket with friends explained why they look the way they do
they can tell what each and every food do to your body
'this is good for hair, this one improves iron in your body, this improves vision..,'
we bengalis usually point to our food and say ' this tastes good, this one is even better....'
and also i stopped bragging about varieties of bengali food after my china trip
i have learned that you can pickle anything, make dry food of any thing
and oh those flower teas ...
and ye we all know of the chinese passion for fresh food.. aquariums in restaurants to make sure that the fish you are eating, died less that 10 mins ago.
the delegate i was talking about also told me that she finds my accent difficult, adding that she has no problem in understanding delegates from Europe and US.
language landed me a in great deal of trouble when i landed i the airport at 2 in the morning.
none of the staff seemed to know the word 'taxi stand', and i learned after half an hour or so, i have no future as a mime artist. i was wondering whether i will end up living in the airport for the rest of my life, when a total stranger offered to help.
and after only a few days, when i was leaving, a colleague commented it is strange how fast one can get used to a new place. she was right, i completely got used to the land. i also got used to being a stranger too, language already did not matter.
i returned with loads of good experience... great food ... great people.. ( the conf was good too, but that's not what i will write about in this blog)
the most priceless experience was of course that of being a stranger in a strange land
[due acknowlegement to Robert A. Heinlein for the title of the post]

NIM - the victim of linguistics

my lazy self is continually copy-pasting rather writing a blog
but i often wondered what happened to the chimp who were to prove a point
I recently came across his story, which i give below
the chimp proved a point alright
he proved that human being is the most egotistic species on earth and that they will exploit other species (and members of their own species) in more ways than one.... some times under the illusion of doing 'important stuffs'.


from http://www.csmonitor.com/2008/0311/p13s01-bogn.html?page=1

What 'Nim Chimpsky' taught them all
Nim Chimpsky was raised by humans, but couldn't help being a chimp.
By Marjorie Kehe
from the March 11, 2008 edition

It was the early 1970s, an era of experimentation. Minds were open and
grants were plentiful at the moment that scientists latched onto the
idea of raising baby chimpanzees as humans and teaching them sign
language. After all, if they succeeded they might penetrate the
mysteries of the animal mind. And if not, what was the harm?
Plenty, as journalist Elizabeth Hess demonstrates in Nim Chimpsky: The
Chimp Who Would Be Human, her nonfiction account of the most famous of
several chimps raised by human families for scientific purposes.
Nim did learn to use 150 characters of American Sign Language (ASL)
and to the end of his days he was apt to contritely sign "sorry" if he
bit or hurt someone. (And in his last years he became a tutor,
teaching basic signs to fellow chimps and cagemates.)
But if scientists hoped to deepen interspecies understanding, then
most of what they learned from Nim was how much they didn't know. As a
result, they grossly underestimated the difficulties of working with a
chimp and, tragically, entirely failed to grasp the depth of his
emotional needs.
"Nim Chimpsky" is about as poignant an animal story as you can get.
The neglect Nim suffered (most of which was inadvertent) is
heartbreaking. And yet in many ways reading about him remains a joyous
experience. Nim was an unforgettable character - affectionate,
mischievous, empathetic, and utterly charming. People who knew him
could never stop loving him.
"I thought about him every day," says his human "sister" 30 years
after parting from him. "I still do." Nim was born in 1973 in a
research facility in Norman, Okla. Ten days later he was taken from
his mother and given to the LaFarges, a wealthy family living in a
brownstone in New York City. There, Nim was a happy fellow, frolicking
with the LaFarge children in his tiny overalls, developing a taste for
ice cream and pizza, and bonding deeply with his people.
His "mother," Stephanie, recalled years later that if she cried in his
presence he would bring her a tissue. She remembered his eyes as
"large and wide" with "a gravitas and depth that were haunting."
But Nim had work to do. His sponsor was a Columbia University
professor to whose lab he commuted daily. There, he was expected to
sit at a desk and memorize ASL signs. (Nim's name was a defiant sneer
at linguist Noam Chomsky, who believed the use of language was unique
to humans. The whole point of Project Nim was to prove Chomsky
wrong.)
But Nim was not always successful or cooperative. When the LaFarges
decided they couldn't keep him any longer, it was just the first in a
series of abandonments for Nim. Unfortunately, while busy bonding Nim
to humans, no one had stopped to think of how hard it might be to
someday undo those attachments.
Nim was not the only chimp to experience such loss. Hess tells the
stories of other chimps placed with human families at the same time
Nim was. Many sickened and one even died when separated from their
human "parents."
In "Nim Chimpsky" Hess does a good job of rolling any number of
stories into one. She vividly recreates the key animals and people in
Nim's life. While readers interested only in Nim may occasionally get
impatient, for the most part these narrative detours are fascinating,
and together they bring to life a world that kept shifting around
Nim.
Divorce, academic disgrace, and infighting had nothing to do with him
yet all these contributed to the erosion of his quality of life.
Eventually, he became too difficult to maintain outside a cage, even
as he failed to decisively disprove Chomsky. Nim, who had been tucked
into his own bed each night by loving humans was now sleeping on a
cement floor with other chimps.
But the worst was yet to come. When grant money ran dry, Nim was
shipped to a medical lab, useful now only as a test subject for
vaccines - until his high-profile rescue by animal-loving celebrity
Cleveland Amory.
Hess has written about animals and their advocates before ("Lost and
Found: Dogs, Cats, and Everyday Heroes at a Country Animal Shelter.")
She is clearly an animal lover, yet (with a few exceptions) she
resists the temptation to demonize the humans in Nim's life.
Nim was gregarious. He relished human companionship all his life. In
his last decade (spent caged in a sanctuary) he also bonded with
fellow chimps. He died in 2000 at age 26, about 20 years earlier than
would be normal for a chimp.
At Nim's memorial service, the sanctuary caretaker spoke of the
profound affection his whole staff had for Nim - how he would play
jokes on them, draw pictures for them, sign to them, or steal their
shoes (his particular fetish).
It's only too easy to imagine how deeply all the humans touched by him
must have missed him. And readers, too, will find that Nim haunts them
long after they close the pages of this book.
[Editor's note: The original version identified Nim as a monkey
instead of a chimp. (Chimps are apes, not monkeys.)]
* Marjorie Kehe is the Monitor's book editor.

summer

and

i think

to myself

what a wonderful world

best of the fest

I want to finish the review of films I saw this year... i know its almost time for the next film festival, but what can you do... this is what happens when procrastination personified writes blogs

anyway, the best movie i saw this year is definitely Iran's Border Cafe (cafe transit, Dir Kambozia Partovi). its a story of Reyhan, a woman, a widow, a mother of two. death of her husband means a loss of financial security for her, like it is for so many women around the world. solution for her problem comes in form of her brother in law Naseer, who generously offers to take responsibility of her and her two girls ... by marrying her...
this suits everyone, the society, the religion, the family including the Naseer's wife....
except Reyhan...
she expresses her gratefulness and states that she cannot take so much generosity from him
this shocks all ... after all he is the man, the bread earner, the caregiver, when he makes decision, he must be right.
People try to make her see her stupidity of her decision, Naseer offers to built her separate establishment ( and he goes on building one in fact) to ensure her privacy and space
Reyhan thanks him and says all these wont be necessary
to support her family she reopens her husband's border cafe ... beautifully decorated and ready with sumptuous meals, it soon becomes the most popular and successful restaurant in the border area... Naseer who also owns a restaurant first tries to convince her how dangerous it is for a woman to run business, and then she manages to convince the society and family how shameful and outrageous it is for the family and society...
but Border Cafe becomes more and more popular leaving other restaurant almost out of business. she also meets people through ... a Russian girl, whom becomes like a daughter to her... a Greek man,who falls in love with her...
getting desperate the brother-in law files a case against her saying she is not the rightful owner of her husband's property, the clerics side with Naseer,
seeing this Reyhan leaves the border cafe. and when Naseer expected Reyhan finally give in...

he see her walking towards his restaurant ... and renting another restaurant next to Naseer's and starting business again...

'men struggle, women resist'

the film is a beautiful portrayal of women's resistance ... and her victory

about pete selling stuffs

thanks for taking up this issue, aditi,a worthwhile public issue, and one thatlies at the interface of our aesthetic andmoral values and brings to bear on thisissue the serious understanding of mattersof symbolization that you have.no, i don't have ideas about what kindsof protest make sense in a world wherethe public space of dissent has beenhijacked so badly by so many inappropriateforms of discourse that many people nolonger take the appropriate forms seriously.but best of luck.

probably we can start a campaign through Net. We should write in the newspaper. You can post it to your blog.

This just shows how low and petty is the culture of modern technology in relation to the culture of soul and spirit. On the one hand, we can ignore their abuse of culture by saying that since they don't understand, they may as well make clowns of themselves. On the other hand, they cannot so blatantly exploit a revered song for their own little ends and get away with it. I have personally not seen the ad but feel sickened that our modern culture can reveal itself so crudely for the sham and deceit that it really is. If you wish, I can help in writing something to the Chairman or CEO or Head or whatever telling him to his face just what he and his company really are. If he were sitting in his luxury den at the end of a tiring day, would he need a sleek car more than a humanising song? And is such a song meant to minister to a car and all that it represents? The song is superior to the car and always will be. Since this fact is uncomfortable to the makers of our modern world, they will make the song a slave for the march of their products. May they be damned. If you take any initiative by way of a written protest or otherwise, please include my name as a supporter. Thanks so much for bringing up this issue and not keeping silent.

hi dekho eta tokhono i ... protest er jaigai asbe .... jodi ...ora accurate lyric use korto .... jehetu ekhane ora hindi te gaan ta kora hoechhe ...sutorang ... korar kichhu nei ...tobe amra jeta korte pari .... seta .... oder against e ekta community kore setake popular korar chesta korte pari ....eta amaar dharona ....tobe kono protest e jabaar age ... ekbaar gaan er copyright er portion ta plz check kore nio ...ei prochesta nebaar jonno onek onek dhonnobad..

Sorry if i haven't replied, but i haven't been online. First a bit of info on little boxes:Though Pete's version rocks and I consider it his song, unfortunately his version is not the first. It was originally written by Malvina Reynolds, and to add to the outrage, Her version is currently being used by soem american show(Weeds) as their theme song(the show is a bout a desparate housewife growing crack in her back yard!How sad can you get???)Not only that their getting some strange rock bands to perform it i think.... As for using it to sell stuff....sigh...must think a bit more....

Pete Seeger to SELL stuffs?

I am absolutely outraged at the new advertisement for Zen car

they are using Pete Seeger's 'little boxes' to sell stuffs?

that is totally unacceptable, I dont know how this has happened

i am looking for ways to protest against this.

if anybody has any idea please comment.

I remember michael jackson doing a similar blunder trying to sell Beatles lyrics (revolution) to sell shoes. he faced stern opposition and Nike had to take the ad off air.

NOT EVRYTHING'S FOR SALE

little boxes -- lyrics

Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky tacky

Little boxes

Little boxes

Little boxes all the same

There's a green one and a pink one

And a blue one and a yellow one

And they're all made out of ticky tacky

And they all look just the same

And the people in the houses all go to the university

And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same

And there's doctors and there's lawyers

And business executives

And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same

And they all play on the golf course and drink their martini dry

And they all have pretty children and the children go to school

And the children go to summer campAnd then to the university

And they all get put in boxes, and they all come out the same

And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family

And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same

There's a green one, and a pink oneAnd a blue one and a yellow one

And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same

FILM FEST THIS YEAR

thought i would write down a bit of precis-cum-review of the movies seen in this years film fest. the first one i have seen is from switzerland, language french, director fredevic Choffat

REAL LIFE IS ELSEWHERE/La vraie vie est allieurs

which at some level looked like a critical analysis of one night stands, two women and one man embarks on their own separate journeys to separate destinations. one an academic looking forward to defend her project in Marseilles, helps a man in the train who, as he says, have lost his purse and other papers... another girl shifting her home to a Naples gets relentlessly annoyed by the lonely guard...another man gets stuck in a platform as he misses the last train to Berlin to meet his girlfriend and his newborn boy, meets the free spirited bohemian. they all go through different experiences, ending up liking their respective companies in various ways and in various degrees only to resume their regular (unreal?) lives from the next day. the actors were really natural, and i don't know what it is with trains and romance, it keeps on coming back to movies, thinking of nayak (the hero, satyajit ray.

the second one i saw this years in one of the few showcase movies from China, director Quing Hong,

SHANGHAI DREAMS

gives a glimpse of unbearable repression in rural China, specially for young girls. on the one hand they are exposed to the western culture which they are helplessly prone to imitate. on the other there is a strict ban on bell bottoms and Bony M. their predicament is worsened by their parents desperate attempts to leave the village to look for a better life in Shanghai, putting on hold their present as a consequence. all leading to terrible tragedy to young Quinghong's life. very touching tale...the movie felt a little longish, but it brought out the slow built up of pressure and tension.