Fanning the Favorites

Every one of us have our own favorites, be it a color, or person, or an object, and we are often more attached to our favorites than others, and may even enter into fierce fight in order to safeguard or protect our favorites. We have seen several instances in India, when a favorite cinestar had expired, or lost the political battle, there were admirers ready to immolate themselves, and some of the stars thus have found place in temples and places of worship. This may be an illustration of the extent of madness that people go to, but no doubt these stars and idols become so very important in the life of these often illiterate masses, that they would do anything for them.

It is one thing to have favorites, and another to indulge in unbridled favoritism, especially when a person is required to go beyond all regional, linguistic, national, religious, cultural or ethnic categories. But when I come across persons who are so very attached to their own linguistic or cultural group, that they blatantly bend all norms and rules of decency in order to express favoritism to the people they belong to. As people belonging to a particular culture, language and region, we are required to favor our own people, to express our solidarity with them, especially if they are in need of our support and cooperation, but that cannot take place when they are engaged in public service. When these kinds of things happen frequently, such persons are sure to lose the confidence of the people they serve.

It is such a touchy issue that no one would dare speak about it, but when no one talks about it, all concerned would be quite conscious of the undercurrents of such things happening around. Unfortunately unbridled favoritism is something that cannot be kept hidden for long; sooner or later people would come to know about bending laws, rules and regulations in order to accommodate a person just on the merit of his/her language, religion, or region or culture, and it would be quite shameful to be accused of favoritism. Bordering on favoritism is nepotism, of which many of our political leaders are often accused of, starting from the husband of our nation’s first citizen to the lowest ranking public servant.

Every time when favoritism is in effect, bending the rules in order to accommodate a person who does not deserve the favor, what is obvious is also the fact that some persons who in truth deserved the favor is unjustly denied. This goes against the very notion of justice and truth. Anyone who is concerned of social justice cannot indulge in favoritism, in one form or other. But we live in a world where favoritism and nepotism are considered law of the land, and you would be frowned upon if you refused to favor your own kith and kin, there are very few options left open. When a person denies direct favoritism, s/he would be branded as insensitive to the social ties, and when s/he favors his/her own people, then there is injustice done to someone else, while favoring some others.

It would be almost impossible to close one’s eyes from favoring one’s own people, even when one is aware of the repercussions, which may not be all too sweet; there would be occasions when one may be forced to favor one’s own people, even while closing the eyes to some other deserving persons, but if these occasions are exceptions, then one may be considered as safe. But when these things happen as everyday reality, there is a danger that soon such persons are sure to face the ire of the people who have been denied of their due rights and privileges. On several occasions I have felt the pain of being disregarded, because some others had to be favored, and that only makes me conscious of being on my guard to protect myself from indulging in such dubious acts of charity!

Daring to Cross Boundaries

I have great regards and appreciation for those who cross boundaries – cultural, religious, national, linguistic and ideological, to name a few. For me these are people who are worthy of our praise, because they have crossed the barriers which often keep us within a particular culture, religion or nation, and it would take quite a bit of courage and guts to cross over to the other side. But in this case, the other side is not always proverbial greener part, but the one which invites to fight continuously against the very group of people one belongs to, and that is not always pleasant, as the story of Mahabharata tells us. To fight against one’s own people is the most painful of all battles.

I had decided to join the wedding dinner of this staff of our social center, not because he is known to me intimately or that his family is well-known to me. The main reason I wanted to go and wish the couple is because the couple are starting their life together with a different note. It is not the normal note that all songs begin. I was not aware of the story of this wedding, until one of my young companions today narrated me over the lunch table, and since then my appreciation for the bridegroom has increased manifold. Has he done anything heroic, worthy of such praise? To my mind he mind have done something praise worthy, but for him it might not.

To decide to marry a girl/woman who is already married and separated, for whatsoever reason it may be, one needs to have a lot of courage and determination. At the age of 32, this young man is already fighting a big battle with poverty and privation; with difficulty his mother had managed to get his elder sister married off, and they had to wait for another two years to collect some more money to organize the wedding of this young man, who but gets a meager salary, and his mother is still paid a lump sum amount for looking after our sick and senior fathers. But it is not easy to manage a family with the salary of the mother and son, and at this juncture is the marriage arranged.

Some years ago, when both the boy and the girl joined our social centre for work, they used to tease each other. It is said that the marriage of the girl, at the age of 18, broke soon after because her husband was found to be impotent, and when they were preparing to get separated, her present husband used to tease her that she had married an impotent. But teasing might have soon become a feeling of empathy for her, and later flowered into love. I believe no one can marry another out of sympathy, not even for a higher cause; that would only defeat the very purpose of marriage. I would take my hats off to both of them that their love could travel so far.

But crossing boundaries? The boy is originally a Tamil, and the girl a Bengali; the boy is Catholic and the girl traditional Hindu; the boy is at home with Hindi, while the girl in Bengali. But I believe that true love can break all boundaries; after all, love knows no language, and that is the reason why event the blind, deaf and dumb can love others and experience the love of others. I know one thing for sure, that the more the boundaries one crosses in life, the better will be the joy and happiness in reserve for him/her. Crossing boundaries also makes one strong to face any future challenge and difficulty. Such people are often courageous persons, who do not easily shy away from facing difficulties. Today at the core of my heart, I would like to bless both of them to cross many more boundaries which may come their way to enter into the world of happiness and joy.

Let the rice over-flow!

It may be a matter of shame, that being a Tamil, I do not know the origins of one of the most popular festivals of the Tamils, the Pongal, celebrated yesterday. Living in a culturally uprooted environs, I sometimes forget that it was Pongal, until a friend or two call me up or send me an email note wishing 'Happy Pongal', and there is hardly any remembrance of the harvest festival in the houses I live, for the simple reason the festival does not much matter to the people of this place, and I am happy to keep it to myself! But I know I am not alone in this, all the Tamils who are outside Tamil Nadu may go through the same.

But today I wish to re-create the Pongal myth and origins, and it may just be the pigment of my imagination, but coming from an agricultural background this is what I strongly feel. The harvest festival of the Dravidian tribe reminds me of the good and bad times our ancestors had in the land, with a name 'adi dravida' (which has come to connote for the mainstream the 'low caste' people). I imagine a time when crops failed, and there was too little at the end of the harvest. The people who had been hungry for days and months, looking eagerly for the harvest to have a stomach full, brought the fruits of their labor home, pounded the paddy, and got fresh rice for cooking.

The whole family gathers at the courtyard to cook the first meal from the harvest, and ready to have have their stomachs full, after days and months. There is nothing much to add with this - no special side-dish or normal festive dishes, only the 'pongal'. The festivity is shown through rejoicing when the rice bubbles up, and over-flows from the earthen pot, and when each member of the family goes to the neighbors asking them if the rice is over-flowing! That is the beauty of this festival, not being contended with the pot full of rice, people are concerned that their neighbors also have a pot full of rice to have their full!

Pongal, as far as I am concerned, is a cultural festival, which unfortunately is appropriated by the Hindus as their religious fesitival. As in most cases, the dominant group had the tendency to appropriate all the good things from the minority groups, and probably that is what happened with Pongal too. The cultural festival had been given a religious coloring, with the addition of a few religious rituals, but leaving aside the rituals and the religious connotations they may signify, the festival is basically a cultural one, and it has to be seen as such!

I would be very happy if there is a pot-full of rice in every house in Tamil Nadu, my homeland, on this day; that there is not a single soul going hungry to bed at least on Pongal day, and it is only under such circumstances can we all celebrate the festival meaningfully. Not being content with the pot-full of rice at home, if everyone moves out of their houses, to check with the less fortunate and the unfortunate ones to ask them that proverbial question 'pongiducha?' (has the rice over-flown?), and if they get an affirmative answer, then the festival can be deemed truly meaningful!