Drab as the Desert

When I was young, I once came across an article in a children's magazine that posed this hypothetical question: "Suppose you had everything in this world, but no friends, no relatives - no one to talk to or communicate. Would you be happy?" The answer was obvious- that man is a gregarious animal, he cannot live without some color in his life. Even if he had access to the most modern technologies that made his life easier, toys to play with to spend time, machines and technology to do everything and anything at his beck and call, he would not survive without the need to communicate and socialize with his kin.
This I believe has parallels with the current peaceful unrests which started in Tunisia and has spread to other Arab regions like wildfire, to Egypt, to Libya, Bahrain, Yemen and to even comparitively stable Arab lands such as Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the UAE and Oman.
Were these people short of wealth, or afflicted by poverty and the likes?
No, as we are told, these lands are some of the richest in the world, abound with natural oil. The citizens of these oil rich countries are in fact paid a bonus by their government for doing nothing particular at all, are not taxed, and handsomely assisted by the state to run businesses, or more correctly sponsor them. They just need to exist and the money comes rolling in. So what went wrong?
I have never stayed in an Arab household, and what little I know of an Arab's personal life is through books and articles.
But one glance at the national newspapers of these lands will convince you that something is seriously wrong.
When I was in Kuwait(here) I read the national English daily whenever I got the chance to do so. (In Kuwait, newspapers too are sponsored by the state and you don't pay a penny to access them!)
The articles I read were extremely boring, drab and definitely followed a pattern. One article mourned, "What would we do without our housemaids? How would we adjust to our busy lives without them?". In fact housemaids are the most ill- treated and underpaid labour force in the Arab lands. The article went on to do a feeble job of educating fellow Arabs in treating their house helps a bit better. And I could not help laughing out loud when I tried to imagine their "busy lives!" For I have never seen an Arab busy other than when he is pushing his subordinates to work harder, directly or through appointed cronies. Another article spoke about chicken. How could the Arabs survive without their daily chicken?! Well that was as close to gluttony as you could get to in public. And the editions went on and on in this drab fashion without a break in the monotony.
The only slightly colorful article I came across was one which described an encounter by a journalist with a supposed homosexual, when he hired his taxi. The aricle went on to hurl colorful epithets at this enemy of God.
What came across from these un-inspiring literature was that Arabs really do not have much variety in life. How can a person live I wonder, without enjoying the thrill of experiencing the success or failure of a business venture or a job? What is life without the so-called drudgery of work? If the government pays you to do nothing, what can you strive to achieve in life? I am afraid I am getting philosophical, but how can the brain work without stimulation?
The peaceful protests in all these desert lands are not against Islamic law, not against dynastic rule either, neither for a full fledged democracy. Just a cry to be able to make a choice for themselves; and the choice not to be made for them. A bit more color in their lives, freedom and liberty to have a mind of their own. And what did the unimaginative rulers of these lands do to quell the unrest? They quietly deposited an extra bonus into the bank accounts of every citizen of the land and cut off all tools of freedom and liberty, the internet, facebook and twitter!
Let's remember the prophetic poetry by Tagore, still relevant today for any people:
"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free..
...
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit...

Innocence Lost??

I always wondered what differentiates the offspring of Indian diaspora who opt to make a living in such far flung places as the Middle East; countries in unstable but oil rich countries in Africa such as Nigeria and Sierra Leone. I suspect one of the subconscious goals of expatriate Indians is to secure the future of their children.
Who else, but the son of an expatriate NRI can boast of driving an imported car by the time he is just out of his teens, or secure a prized seat in a prestigious college?
But what are the long term effects on the children? I don't think their parents gave much thought to this when they opted to fly off to alien lands.
The children confined to the airconditioned rooms of their flats miss out on the innocent pleasures of childhood. I know of children reared up in the middle east afraid of letting their feet touch sand! It is anathema to them, used as they are to the smooth floors of their dwellings, the carpeted cars that transport them to wherever they wish to and the marbled schooling institutions where they spend much of their time.
No playing with sand, no experiments with water and clay, no breath of fresh air outside their confined spaces!
Innocence lost!
Everyman poses an interesting observation - one he made on his sojourn to Saudi Arabia a few years back-
<quote>
The times arent changing, we are just getting smarter at an earlier age. But would that make us duller at an earlier age too? I wonder...
</quote>
The full post here
http://everymansdiary.blogspot.com/2007/02/just-kidding.html

Passport to Gaol

It was during my last month at my gig in Germany that I got an urgent mail from my brother saying that my father wanted to talk to me on an important issue.
A bit puzzled, I called India after work, from the office phone (the money for phone calls was deducted from my salary by the shrewd German overseer).
The first thing my father wanted to know was whether I had applied for my passport twice. I was bewildered. No, I replied. My father went on to inform me that the local police had come a-visting twice to my home in Kerala wanting to know whether I had committed the crime of applying twice for a passport.
I didn't take the matter too seriously at that moment. I was convinced it was a routine blunder by the police which they are so bound to make. I told my father I was sure this was some bureaucratic blunder and would sort itself out.
When I returned home to India, the police came visiting again. I was not at home. They informed my father that I had applied for a passport twice and they wanted to investigate. My father called me on my mobile and I talked to the police person who quizzed me on my passport number and other details. With a straight face I told him all I could. Then, a bit annoyed, I retorted, saying they were the people who had my passport details on their records and that I found it strange them asking me about it.
The policeperson was not impressed.
A few weeks later I got a letter from the regional passport office saying that they would have to confiscate my existing passport since I had committed the crime of applying for a passport twice. I made two trips all the way to the passport office at the State headquarters and met the passport officer in charge who said that the police had reported that two attempts were made to secure passports and the law would follow course. I even showed him a copy of the application letter that I had written out for the passport and tried to make him understand that I had no interest and no valid reason for filling out a second application. All this fell on deaf ears.
The next time the police came a hunting (again I was out) my Dad shelled out a couple of hundred rupees. The policeman realising that nothing more could be gained from this venerable looking gentleman quietly took the money and left.
There ended the mystery of the double passport applications.
The strange tale did not end there.
While waiting for my train home at Kochi railway station I found myself sitting next to a middle aged man. He was just on his way back from the regional passport office at Kochi. And he had a tale to tell similar to mine. He had been in the middle east for a good many years and when his passport was about to expire, applied for a fresh one. But he was now charged with illegally applying for a passport twice. And he faced the same punishment - confiscation of his passport.
But he said with determination - "I am ready to go to court on this matter, but I shall not bribe a policeman to get things sorted out." Brave words from an Indian, in a land where court cases are prolonged to no end and are a waste of both time energy and will power.
what other ways would these goons come up with, I wondered, to make a few extra bucks?