Elephants in temples: Why cling to a cruel, archaic practice and call it ‘culture’

If we can forego war elephants and human sacrifices, we can certainly do away with the horrible, outmoded ritual of parading tuskers in temples.

This was First Published in The News Minute, 28 March 2025   

( https://www.thenewsminute.com/kerala/elephants-in-temples-why-cling-to-a-cruel-archaic-practice-and-call-it-culture ) 

The Supreme Court's recent remark that using elephants in temple celebrations is part of our culture highlights how selectively we understand culture. Yes, elephants have always played an important role in Indian history, mythology, and traditions. We adored them, developed treatises on how to care for them, and even rode them into combat. However, India no longer fights wars on elephant backs. We changed, adapted, and abandoned methods that no longer aligned with the ethical and practical realities of today. Why, then, do we insist on holding on to the cruel spectacle of captive elephants in religious festivals?

Let us be honest. The elephants we see now at temple festivals, tethered for hours, forced to walk through firecracker-blasting crowds, and subjected to constant blaring from loudspeakers, are not symbols of cultural pride. They're victims. Victims of an outmoded assumption that the greatest being on earth should be the one that parades our deities and beliefs and, in the process, suffers hell.

From battle elephants to chained elephants

India has a long history of engaging elephants, not just in religious contexts but also in administration and warfare. Thomas Trautmann's Elephants & Kings: An Environmental History describes how elephants were once symbols of both divine power and state authority. From the Mauryan Empire to the Mughal courts, they were indispensable to rulers, valued for their intelligence, strength, and role in warfare. They were valuable resources for kings, and yet, they were allowed space, dignity, and vast forested areas to thrive.

Today's temple elephants, by contrast, are captives rather than soldiers or royal companions. They are stripped of their individuality, deprived of their social relationships, and forced to live in environments that are entirely alien to their nature. The very animals that were once considered too noble for common labour are today exposed to endless parades, loud fireworks & noise, and cruel captivity.

A culture that once understood elephants—and now fails them.

India wasn’t just a country that ‘used’ elephants. It was also a country that understood them better than most. The ancient Sanskrit text Matanga Lila, dating to over a thousand years ago, is regarded as one of the most comprehensive manuals on elephant care. It described elephants' deep intelligence, emotions, and social nature and provided guidelines on how they should be treated—with care, patience, and respect. The irony is that everything it cautioned against—overworking, neglect, and harsh training—is precisely what we do now, under the guise of "culture."

Elephants in captivity were once given forests to roam, bonds to build, and a dignified life, even while they worked for humans. What we see today—elephants held in solitary confinement, displayed as live trophies, and dying of stress-related ailments—would be unrecognisable to ancient Indian scholars and mahouts.

The reality of temple elephants

For every temple festival adorned with a gorgeous tusker, there are innumerable hidden stories of pain. Like Thechikottukavu Ramachandran, one of Kerala's most famous elephants, who has killed many people and even other elephants—most likely out of fatigue and stress— is nevertheless celebrated as a star attraction. Or the case of Rajeshwari, a temple elephant in Tamil Nadu, that died of weariness, standing on stone floors for hours, blessing the devotees, and an accident where it broke its legs and had sores all over her body.

And most recently, at the Manakulangara temple festival in Koyilandy, Kerala, two elephants, Peethambaran and Gokul, were startled by fireworks, leading them to go on a rampage. This incident resulted in the death of three individuals and injuries to at least 30 others. These aren't single incidents; they're patterns.

But these patterns get overlooked, and each incident is seen as an issue of individual elephants. No one seems to want to see the situation as a failure of the system – one that should ensure the proper and healthy treatment of elephants, the regulations that need to be adhered to for their use in public functions, their handling by the mahouts and so on. Even the Supreme Court that dealt with this matter perhaps ignored these patterns and fundamental questions.

The fact is the system itself is failing; perhaps the owners of the elephants or the institutions that hire them—temples, mosques, churches, and so on—do not believe in having a decent system. Many temple elephants in Kerala and elsewhere are privately owned and rented out for profit. They are not treated as sentient creatures, but rather commodities. The larger society, and specifically the Supreme Court judge, need to be reminded that the so-called "culture" and "tradition" have today degraded by choice into a ruthless industry in which elephants are bought, sold, and exploited with almost no control, neither traditional, modern, nor legal.

Doesn't culture evolve?

Let us now look at the argument of culture. India was formerly a land where, in some cultures, widows were burnt on pyres (sati), child marriages were prevalent, human sacrifices were rituals, and caste ruled a person's entire life. All of these were justified as "tradition" and “culture” at one point. But we did away with them. We succeeded in doing so, although it wasn't without challenges or difficulties.

Elephant parades may have had a place in temple rites when elephants were well cared for and their presence was symbolic and not exploitative. However, those days have long since passed. Elephants at today's festivals are not symbols of divinity; rather, they are living testaments to our society's incapacity and insensitivity to recognise suffering when it confronts us.

However, change is imminent

But then there is a gradual but steady shift happening—not from outside the faith but from within. Many temples in Kerala are currently exploring humane alternatives, including symbolic processions, decorated chariots, and artistic representations. These rituals are designed to honour tradition without harming animals.

The Irinjadappilly Sree Krishna Temple in Thrissur introduced a life-sized mechanical elephant in 2023. The same year, the Aluva Thiruvairanikulam Mahadeva Temple used a wooden palanquin instead of the elephant. In 2018 itself, the Nalppathenneeswaram Temple in Cherthala had shifted to wooden structures. Both the Kanichukulangara temple and the Cherthala Sree Mahadeva Temple in Alappuzha have discontinued the use of live elephants, citing safety and compassion in their decision. Many more temple trusts and devaswoms are considering doing away with the cruel practice of elephant parading, which today has also turned dangerous.

This course of action is not novel. Sree Narayana Guru, the great reformer, is known to have called for temples to be free of elephants and fireworks—“Kariyum karimarunnum illatha kshethram venam” Following the 2016 Puttingal fireworks tragedy, the Sivagiri Mutt reaffirmed this vision. Swami Prakasananda, the president of the organisation, encouraged temples to relinquish elephants and explosives in accordance with the Guru's teachings. Following recent incidents of rampage by elephants, they reiterated this stance.

In the present day, a multitude of contemporary spiritual voices reaffirm this sentiment, emphasising that devotion should not be equated with domination and that the essence of worship should be compassion. And when we explore new ways of processions and parading the idols, human creativity gets a renewed space; “culture” and “tradition” are reinvented and preserved, and no harm is caused to the most magnificent of animals, the elephants.

The way forward: A culture of compassion

We have a choice. We can stubbornly cling to a cruel, archaic practice and call it “culture”. Or we can do what India has done for centuries—evolve, adapt, or innovate and lead.

And, if the underlying issue is devotion, it cannot be at the cost of terrible harm and suffering to others. If the gods can only be pleased by an elephant, surely they would have chosen one that is free, joyous, and unchained rather than a beaten, broken creature standing lifelessly and in pain among a festival crowd.

Culture is not a museum piece; it is a living, breathing entity that evolves. And if we can forego war elephants and human sacrifices, we can certainly do away with the horrible, outmoded ritual of temple parades.

So, the next time you see an elephant swaying with its legs chained and tears in its eyes, ask yourself: Are we actually honouring the gods? Or are we simply showing them the devil in us? And calling it “culture”.

Sridhar Radhakrishnan is an observer and writer on development and policy related to the environment, agriculture, and climate.

 ASHA workers’ protest: If the state takes pride in its public health system, it must also honour those who maintain it

These women have no formal employment status, no pension, no insurance, and no leave benefits. That this indifference is coming from a left-wing government is disturbing

First published in The Indian Express, March 27, 2025 ( https://indianexpress.com/article/opinion/columns/asha-workers-protest-public-health-system-9906788/) 

For over a month now, the pavement outside Kerala’s secretariat in its capital city, Thiruvananthapuram, has been witness to a powerful protest as resolute as it is revealing. More than 26,000 Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHA) — the unsung heroes of Kerala’s famed public health system — have gone on indefinite strike, braving the streets, sun, and silence from the state government. And what are they demanding? Dignity. Fair wages. Recognition. Respect.
What makes this protest so remarkable is not just its scale or its persistence but the uncomfortable silence from a government that claims to be progressive. The Left Democratic Front (LDF) government — supposed to be a champion of worker rights— has refused to engage meaningfully with these women. These women, who spent the last two decades carrying out crucial community health work across the state, are now forced to fight not illness but indifference.
Kerala takes pride in its health system — it has the best health indicators in India. Life expectancy is the highest. Maternal and infant mortality rates are the lowest. Immunisation and outreach systems are robust.
This much-celebrated “Kerala Model” is built by the health workers, of which a very significant role was played by the daily labour of ASHA workers. These women, especially in rural and marginalised communities, conduct home visits, immunisation drives, and antenatal and postnatal care; track fevers; spread knowledge on nutrition, hygiene, and mental health; maintain disease surveillance; and give emergency responses.
During Covid-19, ASHAs were the frontline, ensuring contact tracing, quarantine monitoring, vaccination, and care for vulnerable groups. Yet today, those same hands are forced to raise fists in protest. 
Currently, ASHA workers in Kerala receive a monthly honorarium of ₹7,000 from the state, a fixed incentive of ₹3,000, and minor task-based payments, bringing their average earnings to about ₹10,000. Of this, only ₹1,600 comes from the central government. In return, they work 10–12 hours most days, with no formal employment status, no pension, no insurance, no set working hours, and no leave benefits.
This makes their demands very reasonable: a monthly wage of ₹21,000, not merely task-based honorariums; a retirement benefit of ₹5 lakh; timely incentive payments; fixed working hours; and, most importantly, the government recognising them as formal health workers.
That this indifference is coming from a left-wing government is particularly disturbing. The same LDF, which has rightfully resisted unfair labour legislation at the Centre and coordinated nationwide strikes in solidarity with workers across sectors, now finds itself on the other side of the barricade.
Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan has not met the workers. The Health Department has merely restated budgetary constraints and procedural hurdles. The official stance appears to be one of dismissiveness, bordering on contempt.
Even worse, some ruling front leaders have resorted to vicious personal attacks, accusing the demonstration of being politically engineered, demeaning women on strike, and casting doubt on its genuineness and legality. The insinuation is clear: Protests are valid only when led by the ruling party’s affiliated unions; they are illegitimate if supported by others. They have specifically targeted the Socialist Unity Centre of India (SUCI), a smaller Left party that has stood in solidarity with the ASHAs.
This slander is not just misplaced — it is dangerous. When workers protest, the test of any government is its ability to listen, not its ability to label. When a protest’s legitimacy is judged not by the merit of its demands but by who leads it, we betray the very soul of democracy and left politics. A struggle that is led by women should not be dismissed because it isn’t controlled by the ruling party’s trade union. That’s not proletarian unity; that’s not solidarity — that’s control.
The central government is just as complicit as Kerala’s administration. The ASHA programme was launched under the National Rural Health Mission and continues to be centrally guided. However, the Centre has not increased incentives in two decades and refuses to grant ASHAs any form of job security or social protection.
Even though Kerala pays its ASHAs more than some other states, this does not justify inaction. The state and its people are the direct beneficiaries of this workforce. If the state takes pride in its public health system, it must also honour those who maintain it. To hide behind the Centre’s failures while silencing legitimate protest at home is political cowardice.
The ASHA protest in Kerala is not isolated — it is a continuum of a long and transformational legacy of working-class women demanding recognition and justice.
Perhaps it began with such historical struggles as the Matchgirls’ Strike in 1888 in London, where teenage girls and young women walked out of toxic matchstick factories demanding safer conditions and fair pay. The press and their employers vilified them, yet their strike succeeded in forcing regulatory reforms. The strike helped lay the foundation for Britain’s labour rights movement. Notably, Annie Besant, who supported the strike, would later go on to play a key role in India’s freedom struggle.
After years of being classed as volunteers, community health workers in South Africa, primarily women, fought for employment status in 2016. A court ruling in their favour compelled the government to acknowledge their employment rights. Their struggles for better wages and working conditions continue even today.
Closer to home, in many states like Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh, ASHA workers have regularly taken to the streets to demand fair wages and were able to extract some concessions after long-drawn protests. These are all movements led by working-class women, often unsupported by mainstream political parties, fighting against invisibility and exploitation. Kerala’s ASHAs are now carrying that legacy forward.
From the Channar Revolt, where women fought for the right to cover their upper bodies, to the Pembilai Orumai movement in Munnar, where plantation workers struck work demanding better wages and working conditions, Kerala’s history has been shaped by women who refused to be silenced.
The 2015 Pembilai Orumai strike saw more than 10,000 tea plantation workers —almost all women—take to the streets. The “Irikkal Samaram” (Sitting Protest) led by Penkoottu in Kozhikode forced the amendment of Kerala’s Shops and Commercial Establishments Act, enabling saleswomen to sit during work hours. The United Nurses Association’s 84-day protest in 2012 transformed the labour landscape of private healthcare institutions.
The protest by the ASHA workers, therefore, is a continuation, not an anomaly. It is not solely about wages; it is also about the future of public health in India. The health system’s foundations will be undermined if the largely feminised care labour continues to be underpaid and dismissed as voluntary. The public may cheer for health workers in times of crisis, but if we do not support their right to a dignified life, that applause is empty.
The ASHA workers are fighting for a more honest definition of “public service”. The system they are challenging is one that demands everything and provides little in return. Their protest serves as a reminder that social progress is insignificant unless it extends to the very people who deliver it.
Radhakrishnan is an observer and writer on development and public policy

Aham Shivoham

 

Aham Shivoham

Not in the stony heavens where painted gods reside,

 but in the dust and dirt of weary roads, in the salt of ordinary sweat,

 in the silent ache of bones, after the labour is done,

 I move, unseen, unclaimed.

 Not in whispered prayers, chanted hymns nor divine megaphones,

 but in the breath between words,

 in the pause between birth and death,

 where all dissolves, and yet remains.

 Aham Shivoham.

Hands rough with toil plough my name in fields,

 hands that search, feet that wander, hands that hold, feet that stand,

 all touch the same earth, that has no master.

 The river flows, asking nobody where it must go,

 the seed bursts, never fearing what it will become,

 the mountain sits in meditation, neither seeking nor resisting the sky.

 So too does the pulse of being, silent yet drumming,

 chasing away the false and the truth, 

 until nothing remains but the knowing.

 Aham Shivoham.

No crown rests here, no palace of glass, no burden of past or future,

 only the stillness that does not fall, break, shatter,

 only the fire that burns but does not consume.

 Praise falls like dry leaves, blame scatters like dust—

 the wind takes both, knowing neither.

 Joy rises, sorrow fades,

 but beneath them, the unmoving current flows, knowing neither.

 Aham Shivoham . 

Not bound by hands, nor held by names,

 I am the surrender and the rising,

 the wound and the healing,

 the dance and the stillness within.

 Not distant, not apart, not beyond—

 but here, in the dust and the flesh,

 in the yielding, in the knowing.

 Not seeking, not fleeing,

 simply this, simply here, simply now.

 Aham Shivoham.

And in the stillness before the first breath, 

in the hush after the last,

 in the space between them, Shivoham —

 there, I am, neither lost nor found.

 Aham Shivoham.

(On the night of Shivarathri, February 26, 2025, when Shiva is worshiped & celebrated as God! I thought where am I? Who am I? Inspired by the Nirvana Shathakam & the Ashtaavakra Geetha, & filled with perceived emptiness, this is what happened!)

Turning 54 on a Rainy Day !

A few years back, a brilliant artist friend of mine, Dhanaraj Keezhara did a celestially beautiful painting series. He called it “I shall die in a heavy rain”. It’s a metaphor, but things could get literal, the way it has been raining in Kerala, and especially in Karakulam, where I have my earthly little jail, I am locked in, most of these days, voluntarily, in fear of a tiny little non-living piece of a creature. 
And here, today, I turned 54. That fortunately is not a metaphor. I did, and have crawled my way into the mid 50’s.  The morning got me a few good birthday wishes, almost all virtually. Thanks to everybody. I am wishing for more of them. It gives me that feeling of “you are still remembered”. Even I was reminded by facebook, and so owe my birthday to Zuckerberg (no offence meant to my parents, my father is no more, and my mother does not read english!). One friend called me all the way from somewhere in America. I apologise for not remembering where he called from. Most of my friends who live in America live there, and that’s all. Remembering where friends actually live shouldn’t anymore be expected from us, mid-fiftians (English Profs, pardon me),  especially when the last 20 months of pandemic and the 6 months of spread-out monsoons, or to be more precise, just heavy rains, have numbed that part of the brain, and perhaps the heart! So, one is left with a little less of remembering and less of empathy! We are detached! At 54, in these times, expect that from us!
So, before I go about completing this journal note on my own birthday, here is a caveat, please, please do not consider this as self-indulgence. It looks like it. It is not, I vouch, it’s serious.
So, what’s the bleak picture all about- the metaphor of dying? The virus that is on us has evolved x number of times. Yes, the scientists are clueless, the numbers they throw around is because they dont have a time machine. We, engineers have one. So, when we don’t know, we use ‘x”, which in the colloquial “is a number” (for mallus this translates to “oru number aanu”). Meanwhile, forget “x”, we human beings have not evolved in these times, even once. We were expected to- ecologically, economically, socially, politically, responsibly, even reproductively - evolve and fit sensibly into the earth. But, after 20 months of a pandemic, 3 peaks done, more than 266 million affected, 5.2 million dead, we are “business as usual”. Extract more, produce more, exploit more, buy more, travel more, dump more, pollute more and possibly even reproduce more! 
And then in my little state, Kerala, at the deep south end of the Indian peninsula, which has the sea on both sides and the Indian ocean below, with the only land across Srilanka happens to be Antartica; it’s oceans all around. We live on the edge. And it’s rains all through. We have had unprecedented, erratic and strange rains, that have no time borders. Scientists say the Arabian sea is heating up,and like never before. We had atleast eight cyclonic activities there, where we never had even one. And whenever the Bay of Bengal gets a cyclonic activity, we in Kerala get rains, deluge and landslides. Infact, some of those cyclones even crossed the peninsula. Climate Lunacy,I call that.  
I actually feel the oceans traversing over the peninsula like an atmospheric river, that breaks the dam over our heads, every now and then and drenches us in flashes. It’s not cats and dogs anymore! Looks like the dinosaur is here. Talking of metaphors, that is a better one. Climate Change is a dinosaur, we better don’t have in our rooms!
And what’s the rossy picture? I turned 54. I did not die in the heavy rain, nor by the virus. I could have. I have turned dark brown in the face, white on my head and peppered in the beard. I still have most of my friends intact, though I lost some of my family! I am still of adequate irritant value to those who don’t have the time machine, and hence continue to read the signs wrong, or so I believe. I have grown more passionate over time, but less of grit and energy. Yes, exactly like that Norwegian study that was reported in “The Guardian” last year of people at, guess where, 54!. I have less to do with the public nowadays. I sleep more, watch movies, eat better and love things that have no value for others. I try writing articles and most of them never get finished. The lucky ones get published.  Among the non-living things, the antique excite me, the new is boring. And for the living, it’s the other way round ! I don’t pick up all my calls. I wait and see whether the ring stops, and then I pick it up. This gives me a sadist delight. Some lucky ones get my call back. Most lucky ones don’t. 
But the young ones, surely get back my call. Because, they make me feel old and grand. Like one of those 20-something brand new friend of mine from Mumbai greets me today , “Happy Birthday unclelish grandfather”. Let me reply to that grand daughter of mine, says me!
Happy Birthday to the 54! On a rainy day!

My Onam this year

(posted in FB the day before Onam 20th August 2021)

The day before, a journalist called me, "We are doing a story on Onam celebrations, would like to know how it is this time for you?". My response was quick. "I am not celebrating Onam this year." She then quickly heard my story, empathised, wished me well, and promised to leave me alone. A thanks is due for her.

It was in February, that our family was hit by the virus. It kept us in a hospital for three weeks, disconnected, except for the caretakers, the phone calls, the room, the beds, a few books and the windows to a frightened world. By the time we left the hospital, I had lost my father and an uncle, both parents, for we were literally brought up by four people. My mother and I ended up with damaged lungs, an intensively medicated body and a shattered mind. The only solace were my family, my brothers, relatives and hundreds of friends, their words and prayers, that kept us alive, not to forget the doctors and nurses.

The next few months, were a life full of lessons on the pandemic. My mother slowly recovered, fortunately, and she has to have a permanent caretaker at home, both for care and for company. I literally walked into a Long Covid.

It first started with just the pain in the legs, sometimes irritating, giving me sleepless nights, insomnia, they call it. Then it was the foggy brain. My writing and reading went for a toss. Was I getting into depression ? Perhaps. Many friends also fell for the virus. A few did not survive. It left me more emotional than I could believe. I had a long talk with a psychiatrist friend. “A moderate attack of PTSD”, he told me. Couple of months of very low doses of medicine, and I was back into my work. I read. I wrote. I spoke and had meetings and sessions. I was surely limping back to life.

But the pain in the leg wasn't going away. And a new problem also popped up. While I loved doing long interactive talk sessions, I was getting breathless, increasingly so, worse than what I was left with from the infectious days. By July, I was getting blackouts when speaking.

And then the pressure to vaccinate. "Was it safe for people with Long Covid symptoms to get vaccination?" Doctors were always reassuring, but none emphatic. My doctor said, “lets do an ECG and a few other tests”. The ECG turned abnormal. It was followed with an Echo Cardiogram and a Tread Mill Test, and soon I was lying in the Cath lab for an Angiogram. I had three blocks in the heart. Angioplasty was done. Three stents were placed. Almost instantly, I was breathing better and the pain in the leg disappeared. The links were clear.

The keywords of my diagnosis - “Sinus Trachicardia”, “Exercise induced Ischemia”, “Left Ventricular Hypertrophy”. “Left Bundle Branch Block(LBBB)” and yes, the pictorial discovery of three blocks, two somewhere “upstream”, at 80% and one “downstream” at 99%. It was worth a sight to see the sudden flow of blood into parched blood vessels, when the stent was placed. The procedure was painful, but it was an amazing moment.

I had the question, "Was this a Covid induced problem?". "This is my fourth such case", said the doctor. The senior one told me,"one can’t be sure, but Covid is causing damages to multiple organs". I also read a report in The Guardian that quoted studies that showed Long Covid had more than 200 different symptoms and were affecting atleast 10 organs, the main ones being the lungs and the heart.

I continued to gorge literature, something my dear sister, a doctor, has told me not to do, fearing a psychological impact. She could be right! Nevertheless, I ended up with some serious findings. Yes, such impacts are possibly Covid related. Now, don’t ask me how I can be sure. I am not. Nobody is.

Now, I am stuck with a renewed dilemma – to vaccinate or not! I do run a risk, if I were to contract Covid again. But I run a bigger risk if I am vulnerable to life threatening clots or other heart issues, that are being reported on post-vaccination in rare cases, though.

So, here I am, paranoid about leaving home, fearing sitting or travelling in any crowded place and yet, would love to vaccinate and join the “protected” crowd, but caught in a peculiar risk, that nobody seem to be able to reassure me on. Added to that is the sheer uncertainty that I face of the future, in life and work. It’s just not normal for me anymore!

I believe there must be possibly a huge number of people, living silently, not knowing how to handle their own diverse crisis – physical, mental, medical, even financial , with no sustained help coming their way. In remembrance of all whom we lost, and to be together with the helplessly suffering thousands, and affected millions, this time, no Onam celebrations for me!

Praying for that gift, that will give us back our old wonderful world!

Be humble, be thankful, this Onam.

A Winding up note for the 21 day #Covid19 Lock down series

A Winding up note for the 21 day #Covid19 Lock down series

Some friends asked that I do a winding up note for the 21-day Covid19 Lock down series of blogs...so here it is...

It all started with the Indian PM appearing on TV at 8 pm on 24th March 2020 and declaring a 21 day lock down to secure India from a Covid19 disaster. The virus, whose global presence we knew from the media, since December 2019, had already wrecked havoc on lives in most continents and India was on the brim of a possible breakout! I couldn't sleep that night. One could see what this portends. One could understand that a crisis like this was neither a beginning, nor an end. It was going to be a big, stark, loud picture of what the future holds for humanity and life on Earth. My work as an environmentalist and an engineer driven by some worry about nature, people and logic, made me commit, as if by some force of thought, that I will write one blog piece a day for 21 days. At that time, I never realised that it would fatigue me out!

There were two more reasons why I decided to write the series. One, was to force myself out of an inertia, to do something I always wanted to, and enjoyed doing. The inertia was real, as there was so many things distracting me, wasting me, and that included my indulgence with the social media as well. I am on facebook, twitter, instagram, whatsapp, telegram, gmail - 3 accounts and so on. Agreed, I was "normal." But I had to get out of it. It did not mean I drop and recluse; it meant I disrupt this normal. 

The other reason was more of the intellect. I was getting this very painful, overflowing feeling with various bits and pieces of analysis of the crisis that Earth, Life and humanity and it's activities were going through. The inaction of all of us to help tackle the crisis of the Earth and life, from the individual to the most powerful people on earth was getting on the nerves of a number of us. This virus pandemic opened a flood of thinking of the future. The worst to me is still the one that has not come - whether it be a climate impact or a more sinister virus attack. 

A number of us have been talking to each other on this, for decades, even as we continued to do whatever possible to build the change. But we kept talking to each other. This set of writings, is hence an outcome of a collective thinking, years of work and writings of many wonderful people, a few of which I have known and read, and some I have learnt through others. The words are mine, the knowledge is evolutionary.  Infact, through the 21 days, I have had hours over the phone with thinkers and doers like Prof P Vijayakumar ( also my teacher and mentor), Devinder Sharma, an expert on food and agriculture economy, S Usha, a close colleague and environmentalist, Rajesh krishnan, an organic farmer and activist, to name the most frequent of them. Then there were these friend-in-arms, classmates, batch mates, young friends, new-found friends, and they were many who contributed, some without even knowing they were doing so. I am indebted to all of them. Two resilient people at home - my wife and son - left me alone, and fed me contently. I didn't miss anything on that front. 

Then the big challenge was - who is going to read my blog? I shared it in facebook. But I also, shamelessly, posted it in almost every group I was in, and to everybody who were in my immediate whatsapp contacts. I asked them to share it, if they like it. This ran to a few hundreds. I literally became a virus, attempting to contaminate everybody in contact with me! The more immune may not even have opened the link. The less immune, many who knew me well, opened, read and some of them, sent me some good words.  Many of them also did a virus; they spread it to others as well. The encouragement I got was also infectious. 

I am glad it's been relatively well appreciated. For those who haven't read this, I now request that you read from Day #1 to Day#21 and don't forget to let me know what you think about it. And yes, do share it. 

Thoughts are like a ship with the sails up. You still need the winds to take it forward...

Back to your classes; It’s lesson time! - Day #21 (14 April 2020) 21 day #Covid19 Lock down

Day #21 ( 14 April 2020)

Back to your classes; It’s lesson time!

The bell rang. Our school is like a noisy market. The kids are all scrambling back to the classes. It’s a small school, of a few hundred in various age groups. The Headmistress’s announcement suddenly comes, through the speaker, and quietens the corridors, “Good morning, students! Welcome back to the school. We will not begin our regular classes today. I am requesting all of you, irrespective of your class and age to assemble in the Lessons Hall, which is room No. 21, by 10.00 am sharp.” The speaker crackles and switches off.

The Hall is bustling with a hundred voices. Most of the us have assembled; many could still not make it after the lock down. The kids look at each other, speak in hushed voices. Many are looking at the empty chairs; some of the friends have gone, taken by the disease; some are still ill, recovering; some are in various stages of quarantine; some couldn’t make it, their families have moved out into nobody knows where! Those who could make it, the fortunate ones, are here, to tell the story, and present their lessons!

The headmistress and the teachers parade in. The headmistress walks up to the mike, “Dear children, Good morning!” “Good morning,” a chorus replies. “We are assembled here to mark our deep condolences to those, who have been taken away by the pandemic. We will pray, that they Rest in Peace! We are here to also pray for those who are still ill and fighting the virus. Let us pray, in silence!” There is Silence.

In the same sober tone, the headmistress, “Now, you remember I had asked all of you to think and tell us, what is that most important lesson that this pandemic taught us. As we have so many of you here, I would request that you keep it short, and not repeat, if somebody has already stated the same. Agreed?” The kids nod!

Ishan, the youngest, in Class 8, raises his hands. The headmistress signals him to go ahead. Ishan pulls out a piece of paper and reads “Friends, a belief which I used to hold was that all sayings of great people were always true. Though it is most of the time, it's not the case this time. Abraham Lincoln's saying, 'A house divided on itself cannot stand' has turned out the opposite for us! United we spread the virus, divided we slow it down!”

He continued, “Another thing I have felt is that no matter how deadly, how fast, how stealthy the virus is, it is impossible to ignore the fact that the Earth is getting a cleansing session. Factories and vehicles have come to a still. Places which were once hazed with smoke are now clear, blue-skied habitats for animals of all kinds! It has been nearly a century since anything like this happened. Over a million cases have been registered with a grim death toll. Yet, that is not enough to silence the human spirit. All over the world, people are reflecting. The balcony has now become the most important place of our homes. We sing, we laugh, we fight, we giggle - all from our balconies. This room is now our door to the outside world. Even such a grim weight on our species has not stopped the one thing that a human should be capable of - laughing. And I think that symbolises us. Ourselves. We.”

These words coming from the youngest among us, rippled through the class. For a moment the headmistress stood still, then with a smile, “Thank you, Ishan. That was a great beginning. Very nice, very hopeful. Now, can we hear the others.”

Robin, an entrepreneur, spoke, short and crisp, “Health is wealth" - Wise man did tell us, but we ignored.” Subish added “Lock down is nothing but a rejuvenation period of Mother Nature. The world needs to slow down if we want homo sapiens to strive further. This period is a planning period for examining our progress, to add sustainability to it for guaranteeing a beautiful Earth to our future generations. And make them learn to live in harmony with nature.” Amanjot, a strong girl, high pitched, has an idea, “My mother told me people are saying why govt is not doing this lock down once in a year. They are facing difficulties in villages, but still feel its good for nature.” Rekha agrees, “Learning to enjoy life in its relaxed pace. The world can consider a lock down and relax once in a while. It revives the whole nature.” Peethambaran, a quiet one, ever seen playing with a camera, jumped in impulsively, “Mother nature is above everything.” Saying that, he sat down. Usha, a horticulturist, nodded in approval. After all, an idea she had shared – A month of lock down every year, for the Earth - seems to be catching up. Anjana, working with an Insurance company, could not hold herself back, “I have started hearing the old birds songs around me. My confusion is whether those old birds have come back or whether I am having time to hear these birds. The lock down has surely brought us closer to nature.” Everybody seemed to agree.

Abhijith, the Start-up engineer got up, “We all know the Fibonacci retracement,” and turned around, to see some staring clueless faces, but he continued, “everything has a peak point, once it has reached that point it will need to come down.” Ganesh, engineer-philosopher, agreed, “That a microscopic bug can take the entire power of human race or mighty nations down. This is just a first shot, there’s more where it came from, so behave.” and then in a deep voice that reverberated through the hall he recited,

“yadha yadha hi dharmasya

glanir bhavati bharatha

abhyuthanaam adharmasya

tadhathmanam srjamyaham”

The Hall for a moment went silent, as if they heard a prayer. The Headmaster said, “We have heard the nature lovers, i suppose, now can we hear the others?”

The angry Anupam, an elder in the class, an agriculture scientist, got up, “This unprecedented situation has been created due to some psychopaths having tendency to earn money and change the economic system, destroy poor peoples' earning livelihood, they don't bother country and people, they need money and this is their motto, a perverted enjoyment even if the entire world is going to be destroyed. Its just like science fiction, it is becoming a reality. Despite warning, how these perverted leaders are destroying the nature in the name of so called development - burning the forest, releasing glyphosate through the aircrafts, destroying forests, increasing vehicles, using thermal and nuclear power plants, introducing GM crops and compulsory vaccination and what not.” He stopped and caught his breath. Mohanjit quickly quipped, “Fear is the ultimate tool of slavery.” The good old Aleyamma, a retired social activist also had some more politics to add to this, “Geopolitics is changing. Think of the post Covid world and the world powers..Will the priority be new products and new ways of making money or more value to conserving nature, respecting it's rhythms and also value for life. Many people will be more self reflective and will learn to live a simple life and care for the future. Fear for the emerging economic crisis and lives of millions of poor.. Homelessness, jobless and hence more violence on women. The health of women who now undergo over work and it's burden as well as mental and physical violence. Some (men) may with vengeance enjoy what is denied during lock down like alcohol, tobacco products and food consumption”, and after a few seconds, she asked, “What will be the role of religion, rituals and so on?” The questions she raised seemed to numb the crowd. Usha, not very typical of her, vented our her anger, “Most men country heads have no respect for ordinary people. They make us play through creating fear. Wish more people understand this drama and help change the ways. Good women leadership can work wonders.” She was referring to those nations led by women heads, handling the crisis much better than those run by men.

Anila, a religious one now spoke, “There is scope for disciplining even the most arrogant one.” She spoke in bullet points. “Never take anyone or any time for granted. Patience is the greatest virtue. Do not depend on others to feed you or expect others to support you. God is still the ALL MIGHTY.”

Yamuna, a financial management expert, broke the spell, “If you lead a simple frugal life when you have everything, lock down has no effect on you. Life can go on.” Seema had something similar to say, “Be grateful for little joys, appreciate life more, do not take anything for granted.” Dipal kept it short, “Compassion, Enjoy nature, find yourself.” Susan gave her own experience, “You can survive without so many comforts that we are used to. We are doing cooking, cleaning etc without maids. In between I get time to do other things as well.” Nisha became restless. “The amenities and luxuries we enjoy are not actually unavoidable,” she said. Sasikumar then stood up and placed the framework, “Minimalism works, even essentials could be prioritised.” Everybody agreed.

Indranil, sitting very thoughtful now stood up, “History or time is an entity with its own vision and mission. As an individual, no one can influence that. Introspection seems the only way to connect with it.” and then came the words, “I feel time is bored, it wants to talk to someone and thus forcing isolation for everyone, a pre cursor for introspection.” Amit was moved, “Nothing is permanent?”

The headmistress looked around, “Those three young ones there, don’t you have anything to say?”

Rithu, who has just started her graduate studies said, “I am not too worried about me, I am sort of much better, but there are many who aren’t, that is worrying. Yes, it will be a different world for us”. Adithya, another engineer added, “Had this disease struck us, let’s say in the 17th century, we would have got caught more seriously, but two factors – technology and media of this century, has surely helped us tackle the crisis better than we ever would have. Let’s also recognise that, and be able to harness the best side of it, without compromising on nature.” Arvind, in his graduation was pragmatic, “This is the time to rediscover ourselves. We could go beyond our current capabilities to explore our skills and find new ones, which we could be good at. I have started writing.” The headmistress and the teachers smiled in approval.

The new age farmers and the doers became restless. Ananth now jumped up, “One lesson - self sufficiency is key. Those who can get their hands dirty can survive such crisis.” Joseph added, “We people living on farms can make it through, those in cities won’t have it that great.” As if in approval Ananth said, “True. High time people realised this.” But Shibesh, a long time activist living in the village came up with a reality, “Many rural households do not have the means to cope with this much no work condition.” Everybody seemed to agree to this.

The humanitarians then came in. Sankar, an engineer, spoke up, “Don’t take life for granted, and value everything small or big in life and feel grateful for it.” Baburaj looked unhappy, “Just think of our fellow beings at Jammu, Srinagar...where these lock downs, curfew, sec144 are routine by nature...every alternate days only 3 hours were permitted to natives to go out for buying essentials...i’m quoting during 2003-07 period, where i have been there and witnessed the hardships...now some other way we too are facing, fighting the invisible deadly virus.” He shivered. Arun, who is president of a large corporation, calmly said, “Be super kind to every human and animal and leave a good impression.”

“Fine, but do we have any solutions for the future?”, asked the headmistress. Swarnalatha knew this was for her, “Pandemic or not, the imperative of social & economic equity, public health systems & environmental safeguards remain. The better the segregation in daily routine, the less the waste burden during epidemics.” That was a very important direction, the class felt. Reema, a doctor, then added, “To keep the rich safe, the poor are suffering.” Shiburaj then came up with a set of bullet point recommendations, “It’s time for a bold departure from the usual business. 1.Urban centres needs to be centralised. 2.Priority should not be given for economic growth 3.Primary objective should be sustainability and equity. 4. Natural resources needs to be used very carefully. 5.Investment on war, weapons, and power establishments should be minimum. 6. More investment on food security and health. 7. Redesign in globalisation with focus on localisation. 8. Scope for socialistic values as capitalism in the verge of collapse or at least in great crisis 9. Rebuilding and strengthening community”. He had done his list. Nobody disapproved.

Jishnu shared his observation, “The Government hospitals have done extremely well all across the country in leading the fight against Corona; yes, it's been a single focused attention.” and then he asked, “Would the same hospitals be able to maintain the focus, tomorrow, when it loses the political patronage and is rushed with a variety of problems? How does the hospitals remain the same efficient self, or why do they turn out to be perceived as inefficient?” He felt, “The society should've a responsibility to make them remain as the leaders.” Saira, a young architect and urban planner, living in Kerala, came in next, “Lets learn the lesson and start creating small scale industries to sustain our economy. Make in Kerala, consume in Kerala. We must learn to have foresight, not a quick fix or a jugaad mentality. Stop leaning on the old ideologies and create one which builds towards better futures, integrating technology and our youngsters.” Biju quickly came in now, “Lesson learnt is to adapt to changing times. How true and apt the sloka from Bhagavad Gita is - Change is the law of universe”.

Saju, a doctor, who is in the front line of the fight against the corona virus seemed upset with the discussion relating to the economy. He said, “It’s not time to think of economy. Now is the time to think of saving lives, forgetting economy.” The headmistress intervened, “Yes! We must acknowledge and be thankful to the front-line people who have braved the crisis and are still struggling to keep us all safe. Yes, the economy can wait, lives matter the most!”

The sagacious Narasimha jumped in, as always, “To be independent and dependent for your needs”. Atleast a few of us looked at him, trying to see through his words.

Sitting silently all through was Aswathi, a journalist, “The most important realisation to me is that we are all human, simply human and nothing else, nothing including caste, religion, gods, rituals. None of these mattered. I am a deep believer and I go to the temple, but ultimately, in front of the crisis, it only mattered that we are all human. I have also understood that we have to live within the boundaries set by nature, and I have understood that we must learn how to produce our own food, to farm, however little, with our own hands.” There was an all round applause.

It was time to end this class. The headmistress stood up, for one last time, “Dear students! This was an enlightening day. Many of you have spoken. Some couldn’t. Many did not want to. But that is all fine. Sometimes, I feel, as a teacher, as a mother, I need to grow up...all of you stunned me. Thank you! The class is dispersed. You can all now go back home. And remember, home is not those four walls. As most of you were telling us, Home is our Earth! Thank you, once again!”

Author’s Afterword : As you would have understood, the class room setting, the headmistress and the teachers were all virtual, and part of an effort to weave in the responses. The students, including their names (I have only used first names) and the responses were real to the word and I am thankful to all who responded to the question in various social media, and over the phone. I end the 21-day lock down Covid19 series with this blog. Sorry for this longer one; I did not expect such an overwhelming response to the lesson question. Thank you.