Pea for English: Follow Up

Pea for English is the new English training strategy devised on the premises that the growth of the pea plant mirrors, somewhat closely, the steps involved in second-language acquisition. Preparing the soil [identifying the proper aptitude for language learning], Planting the seed [equipping the language learner with the basic laws of the second language], watering [reading on a daily basis, materials written in the language that is being learnt], etc.

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We planted a pea plant in the first semester B. Com classroom, in a garden pot. Each day three students would pour small quantities of water to the seed still in slumber inside the soil. I had made take an oath that the ones who water the plant must participate in a thirty minutes reading, each day. So each one responsible to water the plant would read for at least half an hour, anything they come across.

If no one participates in the ritual, the seed would not get water that day. Of course, the students are extremely enthusiastic to learn English. Every day, since the planting of the seed, they watered it and observed the progress. The seed, however, was not showing any progress at all.

An image taken on September 5: The garden pot, after the intrusion.

Today, on 5 September 2013, to my utter shock, the garden pot, in which we had planted the pea seed one week back, had many shoots of mustard leaves in it. At first, I could not even discern what those tiny green out growths in the soil were. One of the students from the class said, they were mustard seeds. Clearly, something had gone wrong. After a limited, but efficient enquiry, I realized what happened, and the shock of that still rings in my veins. Someone from the senior students had bullied with the garden pot.

Someone had poured boiling water in the pot and then, later, in order to communicate a conspicuous message of threat, spread mustard seeds in the pot. Clearly, the number of persons involved is vague. They may be two, perhaps, or more. It does not matter who did it, or how many of them were there. What matters ultimately, is why they did such a horrendous action.

Planting the pea seed was a symbolic action—an archetype. Jungian archetypes are sure to connect among human minds, even if words spoken aloud, or written do not make sense. The unconscious self will pick up the sense in the teaching process, through its association with fertility and agriculture. I am sure that this approach will enable language-learning effective. While working on a project full of archetypal symbols and psychological stimulators, the last thing I needed was am interruption. However, I received just the same, and a grave one indeed.

 

Signs of evil: Mustard seeds in the 'Pea for English' pot.

If ‘Pea for English’ was intended to invoke the unconscious capabilities of language acquisition, the bullies had delivered a symbolic blow to the attempt. What I am concerned about more, right now, is not about the Pea for English program itself, but for the mental health of the students. The incident must have surely shaken their unconscious mind, even though they seem not much aware of it, consciously. My next step should be to control the emotional damage in the students.

Both this incident and its influence upon me and the students would definitely etiolate the smooth proceeding of the language class. I wonder what their motives might have been. Were they somehow trying to convey a message to me that I should not give those students the special coaching I was planning to. Or, was their deed just a reflection of the unconscious cultural attitude of Kerala society?

Kerala is notorious for its ill handling of issues related to development, growth, and ethical integrity. An ill equipped and largely corrupt governmental system works its ways down the hill in preserving nature, because for most the “development experts” hired by the government, development means transforming the state into desert, much like the UAE. Any novel idea or innovative model of environmental and social management always meets with harsh criticism and physical assault. Ethical integrity is considered arrogance or dissidence. What else can one expect from a society that has rotten to its core? William Shakespeare’s metaphor of an empty hell is supremely apt here. A dysfunctional society manifests itself in the demonic practices of its individuals.

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The day I found the mustard seeds in the garden pot coincided with the much-celebrated Teachers’ Day in India. On 5 September, the second president of independent India, Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan was born in 1888. He was a prominent philosopher and taught even at the legendary Oxford University. This seems not to be a mere coincidence to me. What I had planted as a symbolic path to knowledge has given me the fruit I was expecting—knowledge. I told the students this; there will be obstructions to each of your dedicated attempts to do better. This should not budge you from your path.

It would be facile to say I am not shaken by the unacceptable event that took place. I am, very much. However, I would like to investigate into their motivation. I am sure I would benefit from it, as seeker of the true knowledge, ‘epignosis’.  



Also refer: Pea for English

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Petrol Price Hike: Revelations

Discretion advised  

Irikkur-Tellicherry Road: on a quiet day

Whenthe price for petrol was increased, I thought the world would end. The politicians, media, and everyone I met on the road was bantering about the same issue. Some worker’s unions called off a motor vehicle strike. Good thing, I thought.

I had thought that I would be able to utilize the one day off by spending time with myself, recharging my batteries, reading a book, and taking a nap. However, there were some familial obligations. Some workers had been arranged on this day to clean our property surrounding the house, and modify some of the landscaping. The question was how I am going to make use of the full potential of the day in my favour.

I had to go out to the town and buy some vegetables, in the morning. Lunch had to be arranged for the workers at home, for there were no restaurants open on this day. I was also doubtful about the vegetable stores. Due to the motor vehicle strike, the number of people on the streets is very less. Therefore, the possibility for stores to open, too, was less. As the motor vehicle strike showed the public anger at the wrong policies of the government, most people might prefer staying at home (except the workers, at home. Strange!). That is how we, in India protest.

Indians, have a childish sulking temper that would be inflamed whenever we discover a government doing backhand deals with corporate powers to sell its own citizens, raise prices of necessary items, or face charges of corruption. As a result, we, the people, would adamantly state that we do not go for work. That’s that!

I have a ten-minute walk to the nearby town, from my home. It was mostly an abandoned road, on which I treaded. The sky was surprisingly bright and blue, and the distant mountains shone in emerald blue with smiling clouds to skirt them from the flirting sun. I thought about my life. I work five days a week, as a lecturer. Sometimes, it even extends to six days. Mostly, I end up having no time with me to work on other areas needed to make one’s life worth living, such as reading, leisure-time, and of course, writing- the elixir for my life.

A white dove fluttered its wings over my head. I heard its sound like in a dream. It reminded me of an old friend of mine, a mysterious old man I met at the sea-town of Tellicherry— Alfadur. He had taught me how to create the Portal of Forward Movement with one’s intent, and how to deliver oneself from the obstacle of staticity.

By staticity, Alfadur had meant the state, where all human beings are unable to perform any sort of forward movement. I was, sadly in the same static state. I did not want to participate in the household and mundane activities on this day, as it was the only day I get to do some recreational work and writing. Alfadur had taught me that I could create the Portal of Forward Movement and project my inner self through the Portal into the dimension I wish to exist. The energy needed for this process was the ‘wish’ or ‘intent’.

I had heard about ‘intent’ in Carlos Castaneda’s works as well, in which it gets a deeper sense as close as the divine power that exists in the cosmos, in an omnipresent state. Alfadur did not tell me about that side of ‘intent’. For him, ‘intent’ was the same as ‘urge’. He called the cosmic energy ‘Ya’, instead of ‘intent’ as seen in Castaneda’s works. Perhaps, Alfadur chose a different word.                 

 

The Portal of Forward Movement

The conditions required for creating the Portal of Forward Movement were ideal to that day’s—a crystal clear sky with shreds of clouds, with a blue scenery in the vicinity. I stopped walking suddenly, and focused all my attention on a piece of cloud floating above me, up in the sky. Then I closed my eyes, and projected all my intention forward, into the space in front of me. The cloud materialized in front of me in a circular shape that stood vertically.

A step forward could make me capable of projecting myself into the dimension of altered reality, where I could write as I want and curl up in my bed with a book, for as long as I wish. And of course, kiss my girl.

After ten minutes, I reached the town. Only one shop that sold vegetables opened. I did not know what I did there. When I came back home, I had a pack of potatoes, and one cucumber, exactly what my mother asked me to buy.

At the same time, there was another me, at another dimension, bringing his words to life.

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Pea for English

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On29 August 2013, I crossed a milestone in my teaching career. I planted a pea plant in the English class, literally. The idea behind this method that might seem an exaggeration is that the growth of the pea plant mirrors, somewhat closely, the steps involved in second-language acquisition. Preparing the soil [identifying the proper aptitude for language learning], Planting the seed [equipping the language learner with the basic laws of the second language], watering [reading on a daily basis, materials written in the language that is being learnt].

It was a challenging experience, just to set up the garden pot with a layer of rock at the bottom, then some soil, then some smooth sand, and then a mix of soil and cow dung. In order to give all the students in the class, a feel of how holding soil in one’s hand would be like, and prepare the space for planting the seed, I asked each one to take a fistful of soil and spread it in the pot.

Once, this task was done, I inferred some information about the attitudes of the students. Some of them were extremely careless about how they put the soil in the pot. They just threw the soil inside, and did not attempt to spread the soil and sand carefully. Some others, on the other hand, took the soil and spread it neatly inside the pot.

Image Courtesy: Google

Once everything was fixed, the principal was invited. She came in and inaugurated “Pea for English”, English coaching class. “As you sow, so shall you reap.” She mentioned in the conclusion of her address.

You might ask me why I chose to plant a Kerala pea-plant inside the classroom. Well, firstly, I always wanted to plant something in a classroom. Thankfully, it turned out to be a pea plant. Secondly, planting a seed is an archetype. Jungian archetypes are sure to connect among human minds, even if words spoken aloud, or written do not make sense. The unconscious self will pick up the sense in the teaching process, through its association with fertility and agriculture. This will enable language learning smoother, deeper, and effective. 
 

I am planning to take English language teaching to a new level, with the “Pea for English” classes. I may need some additional confidence and support, occasionally. So, please be there.   

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Sinkhole in Florida; Land Fragility in Kerala

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Whenwill humanity realize they are about to crush their own home, the earth into ruin. Their elaborate plans of development are causing the earth’s environment to deteriorate and erode away. Wait a minute before saying yes or hitting the red ‘X’ on the right-hand side of your screen to close this page.

I do not intend to bombard you with the kitsch of environmentalism. However, one cannot ignore how mother earth suffers, as her guests ruin her charm and health. Oops, did I say guests? Well, let us assume that we, humans are not exactly the sons and daughters of mother earth. Suppose we are guests living on this planet, came and settled here from some other world.

How wonderful that would be, in the sense that the guilt in damaging the balance of ‘mother’ nature can easily be reversed as a sort of pitiless conquest. In every culture, there are creation myths, and in all these myths, there are events that lead to the creation and spreading of human race through a being or energy source that is not of this earth.

 

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The point I am raising here is; why should we resort to extreme forms of self-flagellation in the premises of environmental concerns? Why do we always say ‘we’, humans destroyed our habitat when it is in human nature to destroy and demolish everything that comes in our way of conquest. We are never good at co-existing, as a Hollywood movie script puts it.

One of the recent issues regarding a misbehaving nature, is down here in Kerala is the fragility in land mass surrounding hilly areas. This was a grave issue in the southern parts of Kerala in recent months. Landslides killed many people in Idukki district, a few weeks back, in the month of June. Today the news came from Florida, US that a thirty meters wide sinkhole devoured a part of a resort. The parallels are interesting and shocking.

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Many of the politicians, news media, and researchers interpreted the cause for landslides as man’s intervention into nature. [Note the masculine noun.]Heavy rain is one reason for landslides, and so is with sinkholes, a destitute child of nature on imbalance.

Inhabiting a planet with such a volatile environment seems a less workable idea. Either human beings can take their spaceships out and search for another planet to live in, leaving behind mother earth, or they can try resolving this problem by channeling creative energies in harmonious ways.

The choice is with us.                     

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Inauguration Monsoon

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Hi,

It’s Monsoon season; authentic, natural and purifying shower of heavenly life. The rain symbolizes life and creativity. During the pagan past, people worshiped rain as a demigod. In literature, writers wrote about rain in half astonishment and half reverence. This reverence and astonishment sometimes, gave way to fear and uncertainty. This perhaps, is the reason why rain becomes the background for so many action sequences and mysteries, in movies, and sorrowful events, of course. In our current social life, we pretend to heed not the charm and mystery of this companion phenomenon. However, with an occasional whip-lashing  it rains down and washes away shacks among abodes and skyscrapers alike. At that point, at least, we do the proper service at the altar of attentiveness, on the arrival of this heavenly phenomenon.

I decided officially to inaugurate monsoon, to respect, to admire, and to observe, this manna of earthly resurrection. I wish if all my readers could say with me for ten seconds, the following lines, in the inaugural ceremony of Monsoon, June 2013.

O, watery substance,

That fills the oceans,

O, undeniable presence,

That blows soul into sleeping seeds

O, reluctant pacifist of delicate design,

O, fundamental sign of growth, and desire,

O, rational being of the fantastical realm,

O, penetrating passion of the silent skies,

O, poison weed of summer heat,

O, naïve child,

Of naked mother,

We see you,

We respect you,

We drink from you.

In the auspices of all your dignified presences, I hereby inaugurate Monsoon, June 2013.

Let the rain drench us all.

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Losing the Way

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The world has become so narrow that one group of people now have to keep a day for themselves, in order not risk a whole lifetime. Happy Women's Day!

A faint glow I see,

In the path in front of me.

I find the glow attractive,

Pleased by it, I move closer,

Use it to see farther, further.

I take a turn in the path,

Find everything there drab and used.

The rupture of hope from reality,

Leaves me stunned to feel

A strange poignancy,

In the depth my heart conceals,

Inside its walls within my bodily barriers.

The pain tells me it’s time,

To realize what I saw was just the glow,

Or what the glow wanted me to see.

The unique language to decipher,

The signs of the path I took,

Were imprinted in the walls of my heart,

Hidden behind the bars of my ribs,

I followed the glow to be what I am,

Leaving what I hoped, dreamed, coveted to be,

Alone, unattended, uncared for, unloved,

Just to die and rot in the desolation of ignorance.

I pray, let me be.

I search for the pain, to show me the way,

Where I could find the world of renewal,

Birth and rejuvenation. I close my eyes,

To see in darkness,

To see what is left of me,

In the glowing distraction

Of routines and role plays.

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The Tiger of Wayanad

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Wayanad is the third in the column of fourteen districts that form the state of Kerala, located between Calicut and Western Ghats, if counted from North. Wayanad is famous for its coffee beans, paddy fields, tea estates, the hills, forest, valleys and streams. Wayanad is notorious for farmer suicides, as well. There had been another diabolic issue, for the past one month that the district was notoriously conspicuous in the news media for—a tiger. On the second of December 2012, the Forest Guardians shot it dead.

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

There is a story behind it. It had been one month; the news of a tiger roaming free in the residential areas in Wayanad had been celebrated and anticipated along with each morning’s cozy tea in each household outside Wayanad, throughout Kerala. There was nothing literally sarcastic about the celebration of this news either. The tiger had taken lots of cattle. People were living in constant agony between life and death. The news slowly ceased to become just news and became a wild fire of political and social movement. People came out to streets in protest against the cold attitude of the government towards letting the tiger wander without restrictions in areas where people lived and on farmlands. Then one day, just like a dew drop condenses into moisture at the end of a grape vine, the struggle of the people forced the government to take a decision.

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

The authorities of the Forest Protection brought a cage and trapped the tiger one fine morning and declared the terror of the tiger over. It was a momentous feat. The event was so meaningful for the people of Wayanad and the atmosphere was tense, that if someone had said that the tiger had entered the cage on its own discretion finding it a potential chance to go back home to the forest to rejoin with its family and friends, he would have been burnt on a stake. The tiger was let loose in an area in the forest, where it could take a breath or two from the nearby village and the authorities deemed that it would greatly please the tiger. It could meet its family and can take a stroll on the borders of the forest occasionally. However, like they say in ancient Indian philosophical discourses, to read someone’s mind is like getting a respectable position for a toilet paper or the water tap in the toilet (in these parts, people mostly use water for those purposes. Cultural difference). This adage had a pretty decent wording than what I have written here. It seems the adage originally goes like this; “No invention had been made yet, to read the other’s mind!” No one could read the tiger’s mind, either.

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

      

The next day, some farmers said they saw the tiger near a house. Everyone, including the newspapers thought the farmers were lying, in the attempt of harvesting public attention when such things as suicidal notes or un-paid bank loans didn’t work in such a bend of things. How could this be possible? The Forest Guardians had executed such an intelligent and scientific plan for the rehabilitation of the son of forest, the tiger. Truth, as they say, is very much like the sun. It burns. A burning truth pounced upon the world soon. Cattles started to be ambushed in the dark of the night. And soon, the world realized the elegance of the plan laid by the Forest Guardians to safeguard the tiger as well as the people population, miserably failed.

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

Some remarked, alas, the tiger is too primitive to understand the excellence and diligence of their plans and its importance for the civilized world. The people of Wayanad came to streets again. They cordoned off the roads that connect Wayanad and Calicut. The centres of the major cities in the district saw similar protests too. The Chief Minister came, at last for his routine visit. There was only one slogan, one mantra among the people and then subsequently in the media, and that was: kill the tiger, because it killed our cattle and caused us panic. The chief minister agreed and asserted that justice would be done. Let there be a cat for a cattle—a giant cat, the tiger! It was no fun. A search party was announced once again and sent for the mission of recapturing the pride of the government. In fact, the tiger issue, according to some news papers and television channels, was a disgrace to the governmental claim that we all march forward to development and march with integrity. The free roaming of the tiger had questioned something, perhaps development or political integrity or freedom. It caused the whole society of Wayanad to sit and plot against the intoxicating freedom the creature was enjoying, just like they would have done in tethering the individuals, who seldom obeyed the political fat cats and engineers of false morality.

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Inspired by the earlier Forest Guardians and their tales of excellence, the present team of experts brought with them no cage at all. If there was no cage, how could the tiger break the cage, or even think about it! They were two men. They were a team and had two guns—one loaded with a sedating bullet and the other with a real bullet, to kill. Some newspapers even said they indeed brought a cage, but the tiger, being as uncivilized as it was, never ventured itself into it. Finally, due to the roar of excitement by the people who surrounded the area of operation or the treachery of its fate, the tiger was scared and cornered in a banana plantation. A human wall trapped the tiger inside with people screaming and shouting in a ring formation. The sedatives were fired twice. But the two rounds of sedatives did not do much benefit to build peace for the place. The tiger still stood fully awake, and it roared. As said by great philosophers, there is no gadget to read minds, or else the tiger’s mind could have been an interesting subject for study. It should not have begged for life, of course. But what might it have thought, just after being hit by the sedatives? The tiger bared its fangs and prepared for its final response for the call of the hunters. The tiger extended its right leg forward. He must have been a good fighter. The Guardians made their choice, at the spur of that moment, when the son of jungle met the arrogance of the sons of Eve, the scientifically precise, logically accurate and reasonably just bullet was fired. The tiger died. The promises of the politicians were kept. The thirst of the people for vengeance was quelled.  

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Image Courtesy: Google

That ends the story.

Courtesy: The tiger of Wayanad and William Blake, for his poem “The Tyger”, 1794. 

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