The moon is dying.

The following is dedicated to the one and only LMJ. A person who with the power of her conversation makes me ascend greater heights of folly.

A silence on the other end, does tend to give you great artistic freedom..

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"The moon is dying."

The statement reverberated in the plush confines of a Delhi office. It was no ordinary office, but the office of the exalted ruler of the most populous country on earth. A country which on the turn of the new millennium had finally awoken from its slumber and was charging like a lumbering elephant (animals, slow to start, but on stampeding, exceedingly fast and difficult to stop). Using the Two Billion or so Indians as currency, the Indian economy had risen by astronomical percentages in the past few decades. But all this is unimportant in view of the immediate demise of the closest astronomical body.

The Great Exalted Ruler Of Most Populous Indian Nation (GEROMPIN) or Grumpi as he was called behind his back, looked suitably abashed at the maker of the aforementioned silence creating statement, the Chief Astrophysicist of the Most Populous Indian Nation (CAMPIN) or Champi as he was known to all and sundry.

With a most undignified opening of the oral orifice, GEROMPIN gasped and asked what, why, how, when and where in rapid succession. With great reluctance at parting a state secret, Champi decided that the time had come to make Grumpi familiar with a few facts of Indian life and it was not going to be very easy on him. Traditionally Indian rulers have believed in beheading the messenger of bad news and somehow unreasonably, Champi was quite attached to it. (The only other person with that failing was his mother, god rest her soul).

Champi began, "A long, long time ago when the Himalayas were still adolescent, just a middling sized lump of volcanic matter on Mother Earth’s body, India was being settled. Though the name India had not been decided yet, the seeds of the culture and the nation were being sowed. At that time the master Indian race were past-masters in relativity physics and time forecasting.

They had realized that ten thousand years down the line, evolution and great Indian politicos would necessitate a cheap source of energy for helping Indians down the destined path of glory and riches. Otherwise the phase of existence that should have been “Sat” yug or Satellite yug would turn to Kal yug or dark yug. So they gave us the technology to harness cheap light energy.

Here Grumpi timidly raised his hand, “us?” He asked, “What us are you talking about. This is the first time I have ever heard of this. Is not our energy coming from the little Middle Eastern country we annexed about twenty years back, what was it called, some southie or something. Not to mention rivers falling on fans and stuff like that?”

With great forbearance Champi replied well these things do provide a small part of our vast energy needs. But that’s just to fool the world. We get our energy from vast satellite and terrestrial power plants that work on a specific frequency of light, special receivers that charge deep underground power cells working on 88% efficiency. The next generation of power cells would be able to work at 88.25% efficiency. He paused here with a happy smile of remembrance of the party they had when the scientists discovered the new material that could conduct light energy more efficiently. He had almost gotten laid that night.

Grumpi was trying hard to fight the glazed look on his face. (Something that had taken a semi-permanent residence on his facial configuration since the conference started. He interposed,” You mean to say I captured the whole region, solved the middle east issue, the contentious Jew – Arab conflict, with Christian leaders baying for Jerusalem just to throw dust in the eyes of the world???!!!”

With a look of almost Gandhian patience Champi said that is true. Now stop interrupting and let me get on to the important stuff. In layman’s language, the light of the moon makes this country run. The great elders put receivers of the suns rays on the dark side of the moon. These receivers kept the moon full and bright, the moon then beamed this light down to earth at specific intervals- Amavasyas. With 88.25% efficiency it takes us twelve hours to charge our reservoirs to last us for a fortnight.

With so much intellectual input, Grumpi was actually smoking in his seat. Squirming uncomfortably, he asked,” So where is the problem?” (Almost added O great one) and after a pause, “How come you know all this and I don’t?”

To this the great Champi replied, “We come from a long line of moon worshippers. Our lineage was started to keep the secret and put it to good use when the time arose. So for the past forty years, I and my cousins have been keeping your economy running.” All this with a smug smile that surprising did not increase his facial popularity factor to more than the pre-existing two.

Now Grumpi had almost had it. He had sat for two whole hours listening to this fool with the ugly mug and getting insulted in the end. It was reminding him much too disconcertingly of his school days. So with a chilly smile he said, “So this moon death is all your family’s fault, huh?”

The chilly smile won the contest over the smug one and brought Champi back to earth and reminded him about the li'l fact about Indian rulers and messengers. Hurriedly he moved on.

“No, No. We did our best. All the equipment is in excellent running order. It is just that the receivers are not receiving the regular hertzial excitement to keep them in perfect functioning order. “

Grumpi growled “ Hindi Champu, Hindi”

Champi: “It is just that, for the solar receivers to work, they require a particular sound transmission. For the past few years this particular sound transmissions have gone down drastically. We tried different frequencies, but nothing seems to work. Do you remember a couple of decades back, when you were the information and broadcasting minister? You passed just one law....?”

Grumpi: (Beaming) ” Yea. The high point of my career, The B.I.A.S.E.D Law, Ban Item dances And Songs in Entertainment Directive law.”

Champi: “You used to say that all the Autos and taxis playing these songs gave you a head ache. Well actually these transmissions kept the moon going. For the past twenty years we have been trying to recreate the particular frequency. So in the interest of Humanity can you please get HIMMESH back?

A sound Miracle.

Feel good stories are not something that I am usually good at, but some times you really need to put it down, maybe just to remind you that things are really not that bad to never lose hope.

About two and half years back, A small boy in north central India was diagnosed as having severe to profound hearing loss. Hailing from a lower middle class family with limited means, it was almost certainly a sign of doom for the child. The best hearing aids their money could buy did precious little to help him hear. Till one day, they attended a Cochlear Implant Education Program (CIEP).

Here they got information that meant a cusp in their lives. Here was a device that offered new hope and maybe a better quality of live envisioned till now. It was a device which could make their child, till date a stranger to sounds, hear again. Maybe learn to call his parents mom and dad in the normal way. Maybe, learn, understand and enjoy birdsong, the pitter patter of the first rain which till date was just a musty odor.

On hearing the cost of the whole operation and the subsequent therapy required, the father (the only wage earner of the family) was staggered, a feeling not very new to Indian fathers and mothers when they discover their children are hearing impaired. But, with typical Indian sanguinity and faith, he shrugged his shoulders and went to work.

Hard were the insults to bear, the insult to his pride when he had to spread his hands towards neighbors, family and so called friends. To collect monies he knew could change his boy’s future. He changed four jobs, because employers were not interested in his sob story, they could not understand why the assembly line had to suffer just because his young son was deaf and that he had go ask for donations from friends and strangers alike.

Insults such as, “Why don’t you put him in the orphanage? Abandon the child; you cannot take care of him. Turn him over to the state.” Were commonplace to him. With Mahatma like patience and humility he withstood all and went about his task of making his child’s future secure. At the end of it all, he had a sum of Hundred thousand rupees, about one sixth of what he required for the operation. By now he had already changed four jobs and relocated thrice.

At his final destination he met an Audiologist who referred him to a leading hospital and surgeon in Bombay where this surgery routinely occurs. The importance of this decision was that the Dr in question was very successful in raising funds for the needy and a letter from him was something that would ease the fund raising troubles a little, With great hope in their hearts they came to Bombay. Strangers in a strange land, with almost no money to stay in hotels in this oh so expensive city, they stayed at stations braving heartless people and police batons. They moved from station to station when the police got too much to handle. One man, woman and a deaf child. They had no idea that there were shelters to be had just outside one station, a temple that let people use the dormitory for free and also provided food at hugely subsidized rates.

Finally they met the good doctor at his free OPD and got the required letter. They also got a list of people and trusts to whom they could apply for funds. Returning to his town, the father went about applying in his usual fashion. Couriering scores of applications and getting rejects as he went about baring his soul and pride to the refusals to strangers again.

Recently we conducted another CIEP in his town. Reading the Ad, he came to me and said, “Hello sir, we have spoken often on the phone but never met before. I am ---.” I recognized him and asked about his son’s progress. He said the son was doing fine, but he wasn’t. Looking at his eyes I felt, the least I could do was talk to him awhile. Out came the complete story, all the pain and anguish, the rejections, the humiliations, everything. A person, who had spent the last couple of years of his life asking strangers to help, now felt only a stranger could understand his burden. Things had come to such a pass, that he said he was contemplating something that should never be. Shocked and scared at my inability to console him, I sternly told him that this could never be, that he had to think of his family. He replied that it was the only thing that was stopping him. Finally after some more useless platititudes, I took his leave and left his town.

A couple of days later, I got a call from someone, telling me that there were funds available for one CI surgery, if we had a good candidate. The only rider being that the surgery should be scheduled immediately. I almost screamed over the phone, there is this --- from ---. He has already done the prelim work up and also has a date for this week. Then came the bombshell, this person wanted someone from some other region. I said, I will check, but please keep him in mind. At the end of the day, came the message that brought a smile to my face and a glow to my heart. --- has been selected for surgery and is coming down to Bombay. I was with a friend then and in a theater, I almost jumped for joy. With great control I asked if this was confirmed. And yes it was.

It was another auto major who had contributed. I thank all Indians who have ever bought their vehicle in the last forty years or so of their existence, they have saved not one but so many lives. Every time any of you rides an auto or a certain brand of bikes, I want to thank you for giving a child the gift of sound. God bless you all. Amen.

Where is the food!

Travel a lot nowadays and so as usual my diet has become pretty much vaired as it can be. From simple dal roti to all the usual usal / misal varieties of rural maharashtra.

The previous month, things had gotten to such a head, that the moment I used to board the ST bus, I would in my pidgin Marathi ask the driver of the conveyance, where in God's brown Maharashtra are you stopping for dinner? Is it any good, has it got a Michelin rating? On hearing the Michelin bit, he would sneer at me and say wot sir, this bus takes JK tires not Michelin.. but well, am stopping in Deopur because the owner of the canteen there is the cousin of the husband of the daughter of the ST corporation chiefs aunt.

So I ask is the food good, he very simply said no. Already fearing for the assault on my delicate duodenum lining over and above the jarring of the spine and the attack of high frequency and mid frequency noise on my beautiful ears, I would groan and ask why, o great mover of the rural poor, why do you do this..?

He justs looks back at me over his shoulder, starting the bus, saying.. the owner of the canteen is the cousin of the husband of the daughter of the ST corporation chief's aunt...