Friday, September 21, 2018

The Story Untold

This a story of long ago. Not a very interesting story or one that we can read out loud to our children before their bedtime yet one that must never the less be told and be known. An incident that is unsaid, unmentioned and lies unwrapped in the graves of history. The ghosts of the past, however, cannot be hidden for long and an untold truth must be told and errors accepted, at least to satiate the souls. Perhaps, this story will break our perception of the 'other' and give a better perspective into our own conscience and the idea of justice that should be created with informed choice rather than coached and directed ideas manufactured through populist beliefs and propaganda that have been forced into constructing prejudice and bigotry in our minds while comfortably misjudging the other.

This is a (sadly true) story of General Wheeler, a British General, who had camped in Cawnpore, India, along with his wife, son, daughter and close to 900 others who had by then made India their home for over 50 years. He could even converse well in Hindi and was very confident that a sepoy mutiny - an uprising in 1857 - would pass away without affecting him or his camp for the kind of influence he felt he had in the community and the arms and ammunition he had shared with the Indian sepoys and Kings. He was wrong.
To move on to the lesser known part of the story for many Indians, on June 27th, 1857 when the sepoy mutiny started spreading out in India, the sepoys stepped into General Wheeler's Camp in Cawnpore led by Nana Sahib, a Maratha Peshwa, who was radiating a sum total of irritation for having been denied the pension his father was receiving and was also in the verge of losing the kingdom as he was an adopted child and not a legal heir as was demanded by Lord Dalhousie's Doctrine of Lapse - a British annexation policy that was aimed at helping the Brits extend their colony through policy than war.
While the old Wheeler was sure that Nana, a good friend of his, who had even received a good supply of arms and ammunition from him recently, would not attack him or his camp, as they say, 'For a man walking with a hammer, everything looks like a nail,' this white camp became a target for Nana Sahib who was on a destructive spree.
He started the first attack on the fort and successfully managed to kill a few including Wheeler's son. Later, old Wheeler and his group were promised a safe passage through the Ganges by the Nana if they surrender. They did; and while in the boats in what was supposed to be a safe passage, Nana went back on his promise and in a sheer act of betrayal, ordered his troop to assault and kill everyone - including Wheeler.

Amidst the war cries and witnessed blows that killed their unsuspecting men, the women pleaded with the sepoys to kill them and the children then and there as well; Nana, however, had other plans. The 210 women and children - all white - who were still alive, were to be his pawns in a ploy to bargain with the Brits to reinstate him as the ruler of his kingdom. They were marched back to town and incarcerated in a single-storey house, the 'Bibighar', which means the ‘House of wives’ where they were kept from 27th June, 1857 until 16th July, 1857 with very little food, hygiene, comfort or propriety.
On 15 July, Nana Sahib received news that a company of British soldiers, under the command of General Sir Henry Havelock was on its way for the rescue.
Panicked, Nana ordered the execution of all the women and children.
The Indian sepoys dispatched to murder the women and the little children, had the poor souls come to a room one by one and closed the doors - sealing their exit and fate. Unable to shoot them point blank as ordered from close range, they began shooting the first round through the windows and vents, refusing to look at what they were shooting at. By the end of a round, the shrieks, screams and cries from the wailing souls were too much to take even for the hard-hearted, remorseless and order-obedient soldiers. They found the task too distasteful and could not press the trigger anymore. They stopped.
Nana Sahib called them cowards and ordered professional butchers from the neighbourhood to be brought to the site immediately. The Butchers arrived wearing aprons and wielding cleavers all ready for the slaughter. They showed no qualms in wielding their meat cleavers.
Amidst the screams and blood, each one crying in pain as the butcher's blades severed them mercilessly, some screamed even louder watching their loved ones fall prey to the hungry cleavers that eventually broke from overwork. The pitiless task was completed, leaving almost every British woman and child dead and dismembered by Nana's butchers.
The following morning, the butchers found three women and three children, aged under seven, covered in blood, still alive, quivering beneath the piles of dead bodies in an attempt to hide. They had no time to cut them as the British army was closing in. The six undead, were dragged and thrown, one-by-one, down a 50-foot deep well, and there suffocated under the weight of corpses and body parts butchered earlier - stripped, ripped, sliced and thrown on top of them. And then there was this deadly silence.

A witness described the remains of the Massacre at Cawnpore as follows:
“I was never more horrified! The place was one of mass blood. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the soles of my boots were more than covered with the blood of these poor wretched creatures. [I found] quantities of dresses, clogged thickly with blood, children’s frocks, frills, and ladies’ under clothing of all kinds, also boys’ trousers, leaves of Bibles . . . and hair, early a yard long; bonnets all bloody, and one or two shoes . . . All the way to the well was marked by a regular track along which the bodies had been dragged, and the thorny bushes had entangle in them scraps of clothing and long hairs. I have looked upon death in every form, but I could not look down that well again”

A memorial (pic. above) for the dead was erected over the well into which the slaughtered bodies were thrown and still stands as a testimony to this beastly, cowardly and gory incident in Kanpur (then Cawnpore), U.P., India. The retribution from the Brits for this was brutal - then and later.

Why did the butchering in Cawnpore happen in the first place? Why did the sepoy mutiny even begin in 1857? Well, it was not the pig and cow fat smeared bullets (alone). What was the significance of '1857'? It was more than anything else, the commemoration of the 100 years of British rule in India - since the first battle of Robert Clive in the Battle of Plassey in 1757 - a retributive reminder from the Indian side with something brutal that the Brits would never forget, to run home their point, that they were not welcome any more that was mixed with unlimited ounces of selfish motives and other cruel intentions which only the dead should tell.
While this incident would make every Indian who boasts of peace and non-violence as part of his/her cultural upbringing hang his/her head in shame if and when s/he comes to know about this incident at Cawnpore, at times I wonder if we really need a freedom got this way. To fathom an idea of revenge, that we had to kill, butcher and terrorize a group so indiscriminately - blind to the weak and even the innocent - in an attempt to get this idea of freedom that makes no sense to me now. Were we so hungry in this lust for flesh that we wrung the necks of women and children to satiate our appetite? Did our flesh conquer our senses then? Did no one stop anyone? Did not one person stand up to defend the defenseless? Were we at a barbaric orgy of flesh and blood?

Meanwhile, the following is Dyer's (The British Brigadier - yes, he was never a General - referred to as the 'Butcher of Amritsar') statement directed at the local residents of Amritsar on the afternoon of 14 April 1919, a day after the Amritsar massacre:
"...You have committed a bad act in killing the English. The revenge will be taken upon you and upon your children."
This incident that happened in General Wheeler's camp in Cawnpore, was perhaps the incident that justified Dyer's butchery at Amristar - something that he later during his trial in England referred to as 'an act of conscience'. The Brits in London agreed with him and even gathered over 28, 000 pounds to support him during the trials. Dyer during the trial, finally said, 'Let not man but God decide whether I am right or wrong.' Dyer lived the rest of his life in a cottage in the British countryside until his natural death later.

While India roasts the white man for killing 379 (according to the Brits) to 1000 (according to the Indians) people during the Jalianwalla Bagh Massacre or for ignoring the death of 2-3 million Indians during the Bengal Famine, we must not forget to teach our children the capability of Indians to do (horrific) evil as well that is quite evident from the unsaid incident at General Wheeler's Camp at Cawnpore. No Nana or Rani or Shah who fought the mutiny did so with the independence of India in mind yet only for reasons exceptionally and extremely personal and self-oriented and nothing even close for a common good. Rani Lekshmi Bai fought to get her adopted son the rule after her time as the Doctrine of Lapse would go against her realizing this wish. Nana - an adopted son himself who was refused the pension given to his parents, fought against the Doctrine of Lapse to get himself the throne and nothing else. Even Bahadur Shah II - the last Mughal emperor, who was called to enter the fight had no intention of entering it in the first place yet was only compelled to do so against his will. Eventually, the Rani was killed in a battle and Shah II was captured and sent into exile to Burma; while, after the butchering in Cawnpore, Nana Sahib, absconded from the scene and was never to be seen again and perhaps, lived happily ever after - considering the fact that when he chickened off, he did not forget to take the Muslim caretaker of Bhibighar, who was one of his mistresses, along with him.
The Indian government has released a stamp in his honour.
Shame on us... 

Thursday, September 13, 2018

The Usage Of The Term Doctor

Recently, a person who had to make an appointment for my mother to get an X-Ray taken, rolled in her name with a prefix 'Dr.' Well, going by the factual, she has every right to add that prefix and her name does follow with the suffix 'PhD.,' while she has been a Professor teaching English literature for almost 45 years now.
The fun started when I drove her for getting that X-Ray... By the 15 minutes we took to get there, the gate was kept open and we even managed to get a royal salute from the guard; the reserved parking space next to the Radiologist's personal parking space, today, was kept vacant for our car to be parked and I even got support from the hospital staff to reverse (a couple of times) while parking the simple car we drove with incomprehensible patience witnessed among those that helped that was beyond belief. The reception was unusually warm and we got escorted straight to the mouth of the X-Ray room while our file was carried by a Nurse and even for the few seconds we had to wait, we got to sit in the Chief's cabin to stare at his grandchildren's scribblings and drawings that seemed to convey the love they had for him from a distant land - declared and decorating the radiating cabin's walls. This entire experience was like flying super V.I.P class. I never knew my mother was sooooo famous...
That was until... she got the X-Ray done and came out and we met the Chief of the hospital/lab face to face. The moment he saw my mom, he jumped off his seat - recognizing her with a question, "When did you become a 'Doctor'?!" and my mom coolly replied, 'When the university awarded me the PhD.,' - that being something he could not deny. That was a moment of settling an undebated debate without a debate over the usage of the word 'Doctor'.

The word 'Doctor', is derived from Latin, much like its verb forms - 'Indoctrinate' or 'Endoctrinate' (as earlier used during the Renaissance), which simply mean 'to teach' - referring more to a teacher who attempts to imbibe an idea or a concept among a group (of students/learners) than a practitioner of medicine who saves lives.
The word 'Professor' which is also a Latin word is derived from the French word 'Professeur', which means 'one who teaches a branch of knowledge'.
Usually, the word 'Doctor' in the academia is used to refer to a person who is engaged in research and learning - who perhaps has more validity to profess what s/he believes in that s/he later indoctrinates to an audience.

The academia and the medical profession seem to be locking horns for long over who should be using the word 'Doctor'. This tug of war will reach no end as going by populous usage when someone calls for a 'Doctor' during a medical emergency one does not expect a (stereo'typically') spectacled (wo)man carrying a bundle of books well-versed in astronomy or dramatics make a spectacular entry to attend to the person who needs medical care. That now is a possibility imagined in a popular situation in the presence of a populous crowd who we often deem redeemed of sense and sensibility; yet, that is a very common opinion built upon presumptions of who a doctor should be.

Today, every Tom, Dick and Harry wants his/her share over the right to use this word - including the physiotherapist, the dentist, the occupational therapist, the quack who punctures everyone's body with needles and the other one who strips to rip you claiming to massage those freshly crushed herbs mixed with oil in the pretext of magically curing everyone and even our local barber who trims and cuts hair who dabs the diluted cologne to fix the cuts and undercuts and the fellow from the over-rated spa who gives a pedicure and manicure to scrub the corn and crack... to every other despot with little understanding of the context or the usage of words who claim the title and the right to use the prefix 'Dr.' to find shelter in the shadows of the prestige it brings without being one bit worthy of to begin with.
While some in this group have decided not to wait for the verdict and have started to liberally lavish themselves with the title and shamelessly announcing it in their quackier places of practice from visiting cards to door plates to floor mats, the academician and the medical professional - who have found straighter paths to acclaim this right - may perhaps someday consider this to be a case fit for a good round of laughter and nothing more when they meet.

Technically, the word 'Doctor' was meant to fill in when referring to a 'Teacher'. Nowadays, more so, since collegiate education bodies and decision making authorities in the field of higher education, consider it mandatory to not just qualify in an eligibility test like NET yet also to have a PhD to be teaching in the first place. As some believe, including Socrates, Aristotle and other educated-kinds, that majority can be wrong and need not be right, (almost all the time), we can still decide who to refer to as a 'Doctor' and indoctrinate the other.

In today's scenario, the medical professional who insists on using the word 'Doctor' has resolved to use 'Dr.' as a prefix while adding a suffix 'Med' within brackets while an academician using the prefix 'Dr.' adds the suffix 'PhD.,' to mitigate confusion.

Hail the Doctor!        

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

The Essence Of Being A Teacher

There are two age-old sayings in Tamil that kept popping in my head last week while wondering - why am I doing what I am doing today?

Saying 1: Vaathiyar pulla makku. (A Teacher's child will be a fool.)
For the starter, I am not born to one but two Teachers. Perhaps that makes me double the fool that I should be. Quite true actually this saying and I fit in perfectly to this saying like a hand to a glove. I have always struggled with education, have always found myself being dragged into learning things I never wanted or often felt never needed to. I have always resisted learning than being able to see any possibility through education. I have often seen it as a tiresome, worrisome and wasted investment of time, energy and money. I am still allergic to chemistry and maths. I take a much longer time to understand things and wonder if I would be labeled a 'retard' if I did take the proper psychological tests. I try to understand and communicate concepts in the most simple way even until this day - not because my students are dumb but because I can't understand it otherwise.

Saying 2: Vuk'cuth'tha'vun Vaa'thi'yaan (The incompetent becomes the Teacher)
Holds true too (in my case at least). I have never been able to handle the politics and associated nuances required to survive the field. Very often I wonder if that is what brings me back to the comfort and safety of classroom walls from where the utopia can be dreamt in absolute complacency. No one can criticize me more than I can about my incompetency to put an end to fraud, malpractice, hypocrisy and pseudo-goodness often projected and existing in many organizations and institutions I have worked for - many times holding a leadership position - which if some else had held, might have perhaps used to do wonders. I have been the most incompetent in many ways especially when it comes to applying what I teach and am wonder stuck when I see many of my students, on the other hand, do a much better job than what I probably can or will ever be able to do. Perhaps if anyone must use a name more casually to establish the truth in this saying, they should feel free to use my name as a living example.

Mentioning these, if that is what makes a Teacher, well then the role I play fits me well and perhaps that is why I adorn and play it happily.
Yet, beyond all these, there is a happiness that I manage to reach by doing what I do that cannot be kept a secret - a happiness that unfolds and moves me everytime I see the brightened glow on a student's face if s/he has understood a concept when explained in a simple way - perhaps in a way that this incompetent fool has managed to understand in the first place - not because of the presence of ample intelligence yet the gifted absence of it.
May every Teacher - otherwise bright, wise and clever - and still the rest, have a 'Happy Teacher's Day' today. God save the world...