The mighty mashes the meek.

How happy I am to be again in Baltimore in the friendly Fall !
The sun is seen on and off, but never torches ;  cold hugs and kisses now and then tenderly but  never pricks; some mornings are foggy but I can see the movement of cars across the lawn . It rains some time but never pours to flood the roads. Light and shade, warm and cool – a replica of mind. Or of  life ?
The Nature changes the raaga, the tune, effortlessly without any disturbance to the melody of music .The cherry and maple trees slowly change their soft green apparel to  red, brown gold and oranges, while the oaks and pines hesitate to accept the Fall, though they know that sooner or later they too will have to bow their head to the law of nature. ” let us spend singing and dancing till the last bell rings” seem to be their attitude. Many shiver at the sight of danger, swoon when they hear the name of death . Trees are not like that; they do not worry about the changes that take place in their body. They know that if there is a body, that will undergo changes. Even death is not capable of arresting changes. So, if your girls and boys opt for a new dress pattern or a new life pattern don’t curse them.
We were talking about the trees in our court yard and those along the streets we drive through. Shorty they will sacrifice their dry leaves at the feet of the mother earth who will embrace them to her bottom and give them rebirth, a new life, and hand them over back to the trees, fresh and tender. I have been watching the drama of this calculated conversion, rhythmic reformation, for a few years . I thank my son for providing me a study with a big window near my computer, opening to the lovely garden with lush green lawn, bordered by trees and extending to a forest, my companions for most of the day.
From trees to humans.  I am reminded of some of the well- to- do families in the places where I lived before, the palatial houses they lived in, the costly dress and ornaments the women folk wore, the loud noise the men made in weddings and religious gatherings, their sarcastic statements, their ‘don’t touch me’ behavior and their arrivals for the family functions and kathakali , dance or music programs accompanied by their wives carrying a silver kooja (pot) with hot coffee and a servant maid behind them carrying the betel – casket. Alas, how fast almost all  those pompous men and women, all those houses have vanished from the face of the earth. I showed a landlord, related to me, out of sheer enthusiasm,  my first appointment order in a WHO project related to the health studies of villagers. His sharp eyes noticed that my salary was R.60 plus allowances. Instantly, as if he was waiting for a chance to strike, he made a cruel remark , ”sixty rupees means two rupees a day! ” and without saying a word of encouragement, without appreciating that my first appointment was in a leading research institute under the premier Medical Council, he handed over the paper back  to me, as if that quarter sheet of paper with a Government seal was worth nothing. Every time, I got a better position, I used to unnecessarily think about that man and during one of my Kerala trips sometime ago, when I happened to pass through his village I wanted tell him that my pension was more than 20, 000 . But where was he ? One person I inquired, simply lifted his hand and pointed towards the sky and another did not even know that such a big man existed in that village. There was only a mount of rubble left where his house stood in all its glamor. No trace of even that veranda with that ornamental easy – chair reclining on which the ‘peiyaver’, the rich relative ridiculed my just- received appointment order. While standing before that heap of brick and mud monument of devastation, I could not but wonder how could that majestic mansion  crumble so pathetically and how did the sons of the prestigious, proud owner with  broad chest, long arms, prominent nose,  snow-white clothes did burn him into ashes ?
So, when a kid shows you a sheet of paper where he has scribbled something with his own hand or when your wife hands over a cup of coffee prepared by her for the first time, enlarge your eyes, raise your eyebrows, make a cone with your lips as if you are going to whistle and hug them- both, the kid and your wife. 
 A deer looks at us innocently, raising its round ears sharp and alert, when I go for a walk with my grand children, in the evenings. It comes out of the bushes and look at the passing cars as if she is seeing them for the first time in her life. Why should man hunt such an innocent creature, which harms none ? Why should a wild animal, pounce on her, tear her into pieces and eat ? The Mighty mashing the meek !.
Trees give flowers ,fruits, fuel, fodder, manure, housing for the birds, shelter for anyone who seeks refuge, man or animal. and even a helping hand for the creepers to come up . When it comes to  animals, the mighty smashes the week, to satisfy hunger. And man kills birds and animals for pleasure and for eating.
And man kills man to feed his hunger for power, position, wealth and ego.
The mighty mashes the meek.
Baltimore,
Oct 17, 2011
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Thursday, 3 November 2011
T.V .Ramakrishnan