THE SUBWAY MAN

They held each other’s hands and walked towards Marshlane. Their hand’s weren’t strong enough to hold the other if one of them tripped or fell, still it was the strength of mutual trust they had. The temperature outside continued to drop as the day entered dusk. It was becoming pretty dark at 5.00 in the evening. The last few days of winter it was. His sensitivity towards Anne never changed. He was 67 and she was 63 but her touch was still magical and mesmerizing.

Thirty two years of marriage and they had four kids. Anne and Rizvi left uncared by their children had now learnt to support each other atleast morally if physical strength defeated them.

Rizvi  was so used to Anne’s presence beside him. She had been always there by his side. During his high profile life of a businessman, as his lady love, as a wonderful mother to himself apart from his children, as an iron pillar during his struggling days of financial loss, and even now she was there right beside him as soft as rose petals that knew only to soothe him.  

Twas an evening Rizvi thought he would dedicate to Anne. He took her for a walk to places nearby where they had met first in his mid twenties, the house they moved into as newlywed and the park she used to take her children to play.

It was getting colder and the old couple struggled their way forward now. As they neared Marshlane they found a SUBWAY outlet. Rizvi’s hands could feel only the tearing leather of his wallet and not a single metal piece struck his hand, he had no money but a small bit of paper. Both shivered in the cold. The touch again soothed him and she asked if they could go in and give a try.

The till was dropped out, bains switched off and the oven cleaned. Anne and Rizvi entered SUBWAY. It was Anne who took the initiative. She asked the man at the till if by any chance they could redeem the breakfast coupon which expired the previous month.  The man wasn’t the owner of the shop and couldn’t help but deny any kind of redeeming.  They still smiled and said “It’s okay, son”.

Prateek couldn’t  himself from stop admiring these couples standing at the till. He felt ashamed of his inability to let them redeem their outdated coupon. He saw a “in search of grief” moment in  their eyes when they exchanged glances. They held their hands again and turned to leave. Prateek stopped them before they could reach the threshold. With his charming smile he said ”how about a tea ? I need good company for my own cup of tea”. They smiled and all the three joined in for tea. Anne told Prateek in her wise and mellow tone that they were regulars to subway but unfortunately had no money that day.

Prateek bid them goodbye once they were done. He felt happy for helping them to warm themselves and for spending worthwhile time knowing worthwhile people.

The subway routine was on again. Morning times were busy. As he moved about the tables he found small cover addressed to “THE SUBWAY MAN”, a thank you note from Anne and Rizvi. He found something extra, a pound safely kept in the cover and a note that said “Thank you so much generous young man. Here we leave a pound to have one of those bottled drink on us from your store’s fridge.”

It touched his heart and kept he note carefully in his bag and punched out for a break from the store to take his drink.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

  The needle steadily pointed at 50 kmph in the speedometer. It had been long since he drove this slow. It wasn’t the roads that stopped him from driving fast as usual, it wasn’t any fog that curtailed the visibility either, and he wanted to slow down today. He wanted to feel the subtle breeze that swept across his car, the smell of the place he drove through. He wanted to be himself today.

The car drove smoothly into the parking lot of the cottage. He didn’t need a cottage this time as he was alone, but still he booked for one. Different from the types he had stayed earlier in. Sophistication was his second nature. Comfortable living space, vehicle and gadgets defined him. For a difference he broke all his regular routine. Unlike usual this trip was planned overnight, without his caring and beautiful wife and his lovely kids. He had an urge to be alone and an unexplainable force was pulling him to this place.

  Silent Valley had been his escape spot right from the time he was 24. Each time he came the silence of the place tapped the resting inner energy of his soul. This was a place he wanted to drive to the very first time with someone unforgettable in his life. And till today he hadn’t driven to that particular road with that person and he knew he would not either. “Madhur Swaroop” he said at the reception. “Cottage number 5 Sir” said the overdressed receptionist.

“Hello, this is Sukriti here. Sorry, I am out of office. You may please call back on Monday or alternatively leave a voice mail at 09843360896”…… she finished recording her voice message for the calls she was not going to attend during her precious weekend getaway. It had been four months of tireless working and she needed this break for being able to work tirelessly for next four months. She always preferred this cottage. The rickety look of it, the cane furniture, herbal grass beds and cosy interiors made her experience the inner warmth.

“We should escape to silent valley whenever we lose our energy, be it physical or mental” she always told him and he had asked if she would go with him for a drive. She never had and she knew she never would.

Eight years of her career had been enjoyable. She loved her work, work place, colleagues and her home. It was eight years since she had heard that voice which enchanted her, dissolved her desperation and made her realize what being in love meant.

  Her relationship with Madhur was like Water elements. All hydrogen and oxygen don’t make water and once they are linked it’s almost impossible to separate them. But manier times water becomes unfit to use for the right purpose too.  A short-term relationship of 81 days it was but it left a lifetime impression in her.  Her friends found the reason ridiculous…”cultural difference”. She still smiled when they said it on her face how stupid the reason was. The understanding she and Madhur had was that they respected each other’s decision. They respected their own break-up.

  He stirred his hot chocolate and was listening to one of his favourite numbers from backstreet boys. He liked the different ambience of cottage restaurant with more of natural flavor. Sukriti had spent her three days doing things which she liked. She sat with her book and her ginger-lemon tea at the restaurant. She was reading Rabindranath Tagore’s GORA for the third time. She rediscovered the strength in her each time she read it. She was refreshed now. Taking another sip of tea she glanced around. A slip in the beat she could sense. Their eyes met and silence persisted for long. Madhur equally taken aback smiled at her first. They had been staying in the same place and same cottage.

  Conversation was becoming lighter and easier. They were getting back to the same rhythm of talking as they had eight years back. Their tables weren’t different anymore. They talked about what they did and what they plan to do. More hot chocolates, tea and juices came in. Madhur knew Sukriti never had another man in her life other than him. Not because he kept track of what she was doing, but because he understood and knew her so well.

Sukriti knew he loved his wife and kids and at the same time he always wished the best for her whether they met or not.  As the conversation unfolded, he suddenly asked her “Can we drive tomorrow to the road we always wanted to take?” She paused and smiled. She agreed to go with him.

The night was crawling, He felt. He knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong or nothing against conscience. He waited for the morning. He knew what to expect of the morning, still he went to the waiting lounge. He sat there for hardly two minutes and he walked straight to the reception. “Is there any message left for me? I am Madhur Swaroop” he said. With her trained smile the receptionist handed him a cover. He had expected this. He had two white tulip flowers in his hand with a tiny envelope. The envelope was very similar to the one he had received eight years back for his birthday. It was the same colour. He opened the message card inside. It had nothing but a smiley and a fish drawn to it. It didn’t require extra time for him to understand the message. The fish had left with all smiles to carry on with her life. THE HAPPY FISH. Madhur smiled at the fact she never changed. He carefully folded the message and slipped it into his wallet as proof of the fish being happy. He knew that the road would remain untaken forever after.

She had already pulled the top gear and covered more than 6 miles from the cottage. She pressed more on the accelerator and sped down the road with a big smile on her face.

As she drove, her lips broadened at the existence of water link between her and Madhur. Not as a couple, not as lovers, not as friends but the link of understanding between two humans. That road remained untaken by her and she knew she would not either.

THE UNDYING VIM OF TRAINS

I had developed an unusual pleasure right from age four, when I first travelled in a Train to Chennai along with my mother.  Trains were second home to my family as my grandfather was a railway official. Amma spent most of her childhood in trains and railway stations where my grandfather efficiently managed roles of a station superintend and a teacher to his kids. The station master’s room became the learning centre and sometimes playing area too. Amma, my aunt and uncle would still recollect those days and it always ended with the taste of ‘Thenga pal tea’ (tea made with coconut milk) which my grandfather got for them from railway canteen.

I wasn’t an early traveler like them and the first time I could remember getting into a train was when I was four. Amma took me along with her to Chennai. It was all excitement and amusement that I was drowned into. I still remember the way I was staring at a man pulling out the middle berth for himself. I then thought he was the strongest man I had seen in the world. I wrinkled my nose near the lavatory but was still amused to see the way it was designed, absolutely fitting the needs of an Indian. From then train journey became a regular affair. But each time I boarded a train, the vim and pleasure I felt were the same as my first journey.

I loved travelling alone in a train be it a day train or a night one. Reading a book sitting on the side lower seat with wind gushing at a high speed, the chaiwalas and snack sellers sound, and the view from the train made me feel that it was giving the same old message of life.. life is too short, nothing stays long in your life and yet they are cyclic.

I have never made an attempt to talk to any of the fellow passengers. Amma was very particular about that whenever I travel alone and neither had I felt the need to converse with anyone. But one of the trips was so different and good though everything seemed downhill before the journey started.

I was going to meet my sister who lives in Kottayam with her husband. I had booked my tickets for a Saturday at five past midnight. My aunt and brother accompanied me this time. We were too eager to meet her as soon as possible. When we reached the station I found mismatch in train number being displayed and on the ticket. Gosh!!!! One digit mistake in the train number and we had had actually booked tickets for a train scheduled at morning 5.30 the same day rather than the one we intended to travel in. It took a while to come out of the blunder we had made and decided against going back home as it would disturb people sleeping peacefully there and it was a matter of another five hours to board the train for which we had the ticket. After depositing the luggage in cloak room and a cup of tea we made ourselves comfortable in AC waiting hall at the Coimbatore junction. I was glad they had maintained it well but for the rest rooms. We left the place at 5 and boarded our train to kottayam. During the journey I and my aunt were discussing how the mistake happened, and that we ought to be careful the next time.

The next day afternoon we were set to come back to our paradise. This time my Jij and Didi cross checked the date of journey. We waved big to my sister and Jij as the train made a move and screaming BYE BYE BYE !!

It was a train to Guwahati from Thiruvananthapuram via Coimbatore and Chennai which was dirty and very poorly maintained with no water in the lavatories, stinking compartments, and unhygienic people.

I was the first to stretch my hand with the tickets to the TT. He took all the three and asked for the third one. Now how do I react when the TT has all my tickets and still demands for the third ticket? For about thirty seconds or so it was a repetition of the old tamil movie comedy of  senthil-goundamani except that it was a ticket here instead of the banana. I was furious about his behavior and so was he about mine. But how he could be furious, I thought, when he had my tickets and was still demanding for an extra ticket. Well, the TT calmed down a bit and showed me the ticket. They were two printed for a journey from Kottayam to Coimbatore and the last one had the route Coimbatore to Kottayam. Oh My GOD!! A printing error from the railway ticket counter which was left unnoticed by us till the end.

Now I stood in front of him as an offender, ticketless and to be fined for it. Rs. 400 please, he said. I hadn’t yet recovered from the unexpected and big blunder from my side. Good old TTR took pity on me and asked all three of us to move to compartment number S13 and said he would inform the checking Squad as it was partially the department’s mistake too. Relieved that I needn’t pay the fine we moved to S13 through the dirty compartments. The train carried very few females and the rest were males dressed shabby, stinking and ruffian, and ticketless. The squad had a tough time getting those ticketless passengers in order. We found a place where one lady was lying in the lap of a man. Their behavior was quite odd and was constantly chewing some brown and white substance from a packet which made us feel all the more uncomfortable.

A young boy probably aged between 14-16 years was talking loud over his mobile phone in some incomprehensible language sitting in our berth. He looked calm and the innocence of his face hadn’t worn out. He looked much different from the rest I saw in the train, better dressed, calmly seated and minding his own business. My aunt was a little anxious with the people and type of train we were travelling in. After an hour or so the boy besides us smiled at me and my brother. He asked my brother where we were going in Malayalam, his accent revealing he didn’t belong to Kerela and probably from northern side of India. They both exchanged few words and then continued with their own work.

I asked the boy where he was going. He said Kolkatta. When I told him his Malayalam was good enough he smiled broad as though he had received the biggest compliment and said he had been living in kerela for past five years. I asked where in kerela and he said he had been to most part of kerela. Replying to my questioning expression he said he worked as a labourer in construction sites all these five years. Another child labour victim, I thought. He just continued with his story, said he ran away from his house five years back. The shock very clear on my face, he said he ran away because his father used to beat him every day for no reason and one evening he got into some train from Kolkatta railway station that brought him to Kerela. For a week I roamed about and ate well with the money I had brought with me and I was also aware that I had to find work before my savings got exhausted, he said. He managed to get work in construction site and initially used to supply tea and water to labourers there. He was quite good at picking up works related to construction and soon joined the team, he continued. Didn’t you miss home? I asked. He said he didn’t miss much as he loathed his father. He had a sister younger to him too. No one could save him from his father’s cruelty and he had no choice but leave his place. I didn’t know how to react and all I asked was if he was returning home after five years. He replied with no emotions that he did go the previous year and came to know his father died the next year he left his place. His mother and sister were alone and she was marriageable age. Child marriage it struck me but did not react to it. He came back for work again and now he was going for his sister’s wedding. The sparkle in his eyes couldn’t hide his joy. I smiled at that happy face, the happiest face I could find at that moment which radiated all his love for his sister whom he was separated from for five years.  He soon opened his bag placed under his foot and removed a box from it. It was new mobile phone pack and showed it to me. With all excitement of a kid he said that it was for his sister to take it to her in-laws’ place. The happiest man handling the most precious object on earth, that is what I felt deep within when I saw him.

We were nearing Coimbatore and the squad members were forcing the fine payers to move to the next compartment. Pushkar was one among them. He took his bag and was about to move to the next coach, when I stopped him. I too took out a small box from my bag but with chocolates. I gave it to him telling it was from my side for his sister. We looked at each other for a brief second and he took it from me smiling and said thank you Chechi. 

When I got down at Coimbatore junction, the train I disliked was the one which made me feel good about the travel than other train travels till date. Before I could leave the platform I looked at the same dirty train and smiled which seemed elegant now. The vim of train journey- always undying and delightful !!

SANCTIMONIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL ANUVAVI

The wood was hitting the hard ground, cutting creases and the boy shouted “OUT”. The local boys were busy with their cricket practice session on the ground near my apartment.  The sun was still taking its time to shine its ray out; no one belonging to my block was seen outside. The driver reversed my car from the parking lot. I and two of my friends Alka and Saran got into the car at half past five in the morning.

Born and brought up in Coimbatore, I had never been to this place in my 20 years of life here. Though known to many, only a few take this to be a memorable journey. Not because it is not a worthy spot but for the strain they need to take to reach the place.

Anuvavi Hills, yes that is the place. It is home to the famous Anuvavi Subramanian Temple. Situated 12 km away from the city, our driver expertly drove us to the place. Before entering the Periyathadagam village where the temple is situated, I noticed delicate baggy –like small houses that crowded the area.  After we passed through those houses and travelled little extra kilometers, we took a turn to the left and reached the main entrance of the temple, downhill to be exact.

Our driver told us that there was no other way to reach the hill top other than climbing the stairs which precisely led to the temple itself. I stood near the stairs and glanced over the sides of it to see if any hiking was possible. It seemed a bad option to climb uphill without using the stairs. The sides were bushy and thorny, and also large trees covered the hill floor which was matted with dry leaves. “Stairs girls, trekking is treacherous” I said. They were in agreement too. As we climbed we could see the temple more clearly. I was ready with my camera to snap all that interested me along the way. I pressed the button to bring its lens alive. I pressed twice, thrice and nothing happened later to realize that there was no battery inside it. What bad luck, I thought. Frustrated that the scenic beauty or our faces with this magnificent backdrop cannot be registered I climbed quickly. Gradually I slowed down seeing the flight of steps still lying long. I was reminded of Shravana Belugola at Karnataka. Here the steps were better carved with better rails to hold and another credit was that there were lots of trees around to protect us from the scorching sun unlike Shravana Belugola. Still the flight seemed long.

The countdown ended and we climbed the last step nearly after 35 minutes from our starting point.

The Western Ghats, blending itself with the serenity and pious ecstasy of the temple environment was how I felt seeing the view right from the top notch. Houses, cattle and small fields were tiny and it meant a perfect view point for whole of Periyathadagam just like Dodabetta peak at Udhagamangalam. The difference was that necessity of a telescope was nil. The architecture of the temple wasn’t anything arresting. Like all temples in Tamil Nadu Garbha griha or Sanctum Sanctorum of the temple was of Lord Subramanian, famously known as Lord Karthikeya in North India.  Another small structure where Lord Ganesha is worshipped is just adjacent to the main temple. A wooden chariot to take the lord for a ride during temple festivals could also be seen as we took a full round. The temple as such was small and there wasn’t any specific architectural expertise to detain my attention in the temple premises. What made it unique and a highly appreciable spot was the merging between the temple premises and the hilly surrounding. The freshness that the air held around me was exceptional.

As most temples hold a mythological background, this temple wasn’t an exception. The priest briefed us the story behind the perennial source of water stream called ‘Hanuman Theertham’. It was said that when Hanuman was going to back to the battlefield taking the Sanjeevani hill along with him to bring back consciousness of Ram’s brother Lakshman, he stopped by this Anuvavi hill. He prayed to Lord Karthikeya to quench his thirst and the stream was brought out by the Lord to help Hanuman. The stream never dries and caters to water requirement of people staying around the hill especially during summer. I was quite amused to know that water shortage was a term unknown to them. It was real ‘theertham’ I should say. The water from the stream tasted so good. The energy exhausted while climbing uphill was renewed by the sight at hill top and the energy to reach down with same fresh feeling was well contributed by the water. Though I regretted a lot for not taking the batteries along with the camera, the pictures remains fresh in mind as though it was tough stained not to be faded soon.  We climbed down saving ten minutes than when we climbed up.

We reached for our car and we were all silent for at least twenty minutes on our way back. It wasn’t because we were exhausted rather we felt our energy boosters in action, it was just to take in all the serenity that the place had impressed us with. To take back everything I saw and felt which no lens other than my eyes and senses could catalog. I did not regret anymore for leaving the batteries behind, none of us did.

KILLER AM I?

                "Seekram ponga anna" I muttered, as I forced the cab door shut.  Once I settled in the seat, I opened the window sill in need of some fresh air. ‘Not the next time, never again’ I reminded myself for the fifth time in the day. It was ten minutes past four in the morning. Just half an hour before it was all warmth around me, curled inside the rug in my cozy bed, hugging my teddy bear and having a sound sleep. My hands had always made involuntary action to switch off the vibrating instrument. I regretted it later as I had to get ready, check my baggage and call for a taxi in a hurry. When I reached my destination in fifteen minutes, I moved through a small crowd of men in red shirts following me and calling out to help me with my luggage. I didn’t need a coolie; after all I had just one bag. While I rushed to the platform in an effort to not to miss the train, I heard the announcement of my train running late by an hour and a half.

                I moved to the platform with disappointment. Waiting for the train so long in the early hours of the day was the last thing I liked to do. I so much missed the coziness of my room. The platform was not very lively except for few people who like me were waiting for their train. None appeared to prefer the rest room, neither did I. I opted for the bench near the coffee bar to the suffocating smell and unclean room.

                The finest organic suspension ever devised, having two virtues, wet and warm-‘coffee’.

“Bitter drink” one of my friends used to always exclaim whenever I relished a cup of coffee. If ‘Sanjana’ sprouts in “Link the word game” then my friends would roar ‘coffee’ without a second thought. I remember reading somewhere “chocolate, men and coffee- some things are better rich”. That morning I couldn’t resist myself helping with a cup of coffee when I saw the thick cream drown in the beverage. The aroma was too strong. I sat in ease on the bench and stirred the coffee admiring the lathery cream on it. I drank it, savoring every sip of it, and another sip, I found my coffee completely drained into my mouth. With disappointment I got up to dispose the cup. In the left dark corner of the seating area stood a penguin, with its beak wide open for me to dump the cup. As I neared I could hear a very soft and mild hiss from behind the bin. Ophidiophobia had crept in me for quite sometime now. I have a very peculiar irritation towards the reptiles. I could feel my heart pump twice the amount of blood than usual. I tried to adjust my power of eyesight with the sparse light available. I did see something, a human, a small boy pale and thin and his ribs engraved on the skin betrayed his poverty. A boy of eight or nine, I guessed, curled himself to the corner trying to hide him from me. I was anxious on the score, what was he scared of?  The demon of selfishness rose to a greater height defeating the empathetic feeling in me. Human nature you see. I didn’t want to get into any trouble, especially during a journey.

                I went back to my seat after buying a newspaper. The front page covered the economical impact of the tsunami on coastal fishing community and fisher folks. Another column was an interview with the tourism minister, appealing to the tourists to return pointing out that most of the tourist infrastructure was undamaged. As I turned the pages my eyes fell on ‘How bollywood makes money!’. I lost track of time reading the paper and the boy was out of my mind too until I was suddenly brought to reality by thundering foot steps. Four men were running all around the platform with one giving instruction on directions to move. I noticed that others were curious like me. I heard one if the women asking the paperwala “what is happening thambi?”.  Like a flash one of the men rushed towards me, I was too alarmed to react and shut my eyes tight unaware of what was to happen next. All I knew was I was gripped with fear. “aaahhhhhhhaaaahhhhhh” and I opened my eyes with a jolt to find myself untouched and safe and saw the man hauling the boy out of the corner. He yelled and cried for help. All stood watching and there were murmurs around. I stood inflexible with blood drained out of my face. He was carried away by the men and him struggling in their arms. The arrival of the train drowned his distant voice. I managed to board the train; none seemed to care for the boy anymore.

                My heart sank with guilt and depression. My conscience pricked “Killer am i?” I asked myself. Killer of the boy’s life, his childhood, his future and of humanness. His cry rang in my ears through out the journey and still it does, years later. I still ask “KILLER AM I?”.

THE WAR ON SECRECY

       This year, has been quite a profitable year for the news media with the glamour of scams and leaks competing to make headlines. The press and news channels are vying to get scoops putting the readers and viewers in a dilemma on what to read and what to watch.
      Corruption, scandals, leaks dominated the newspapers, channels and magazines of India and more such magma of issues are expected from unexpected area like that of a dormant volcano. The tidal flow of these scams rip out the base of such happenings – the political-business nexus.
The CWG corruption, 2G spectrum scam, Radia tapes all stand as a proof to such nexus between the politicians and businessmen. The Radia tape release took a step ahead revealing journalists’ involvement too. These were the most popular ones that hit the media. Many of the issues brought under light by few from print sector were left unnoticed by the news channels, as TRP is what that mattered.
     The Common Wealth Games meant to show case India’s new power in its entire splendor, divulged the deep corruptions involved to which India is pickled in. Suresh Kalmadi seems to have milked crores of rupees producing the exorbitant rates from treadmills, chairs to even toilet papers. The inept working styles of the organizing committee placed India in an embarrassing situation following pull-outs by noted athletes and raising questions even on the player’s security. Unfortunately, the question raised by the Australian player never realized the incapability of the Australian government to protect the Indian students there.

Suresh kalmadi

The financial cost of the game remains difficult to judge apart from the civic and social expenditure. The average estimated figure crosses the total amount provided by the centre to Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan. A very perplexing question is now posed to the centre on how to meet the educational needs of Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan and the rehabilitation need of the Chhattisgarh tribes. Save the corruption, the disruptions in the public’s daily lives and destruction of environment caused in the name of bringing a world class appearance to the roads have left an unsavory memory in the public’s minds.

         The whole winter session of the parliament has not had a normal function following an impasse on one single issue- the 2G spectrum scam. The scam accuses former Telecom minister Andimuthu Raja of issuing 2G licence at throwaway prices not following the rules. This scam has caused a loss of Rs. 1.76 lakh crores for the government. The license was issued on a first come first serve basis rather than the conventional bidding proceedings. Telecom services that did not meet the eligibility criteria and those fresh to the telecom sector like Swan telecom and Unitech wireless services were issued license at Rs.1537 crores and Rs.1661 crores. These services in turn sold 45% and 60% of their stakes at Rs.4200 crores and Rs.6200 crores respectively. The department of telecom accounted only Rs.10,772 crores for sale of 2G license. The head of the parliament, Pranab Mukharjee, has failed to convince the opposition over their demand of a JPC (Joint Parliamentary Committee) probe into the issue as the government says no to JPC.

       The OPEN magazine had a scoop with the Radia tapes controversy, which reported the transcripts of some of the telephonic conversations of Niira Radia, a professionbal lobbyist, and an acquaintance of Mr. A.Raja, with senior journalists, politicians and corporate houses.
The tapes appear to lay bare the attempts of Radia to influence the decision appointing Mr. A.Raja as the telecom minister through some media persons and brokering a mining deal between former convicted Chief minister of Jharkhand, Mr. Madhu Koda. The Indian income tax department after getting authorization from the Home ministry tapped Ms. Radia’s telephone lines for 2000 hours of which only 10 hours of conservation is released. The home secretary said Radia’s phones were tapped during tax evasion investigations which were tracking the potentially illegal transfer of funds in and out of India.
Mr. G. K. Pillai, current Home secretary of India stated “the court could be petitioned for release of tapes. Then you cannot pick and choose. Everything will come out. This is just the tip of probe into the 2G spectrum scam.” When asked about the leakage to the Home minister Mr. P. Chidambaram he said he is against leakage of tapes recorded for investigation purposes but also added “some of it is inevitable.”

       The largest international, historic leaks, came from the whistle blower website Wikileaks. It is a non-profit organization, which won many awards since 2008 and was ranked first among ‘websites that could totally change the news’ by the New York Daily News this year. Wikileaks hit the ban list when it uncloaked the undiplomatic conversational cables of the US diplomats in November 2010.
Julian Assagne, founder of wikileaks, has created a space for himself much above the internationally famous whistle blowers like Shi Tao (Tiananmen Square massacre) and Daniel Ellsberg (Pentagon papers). In April 2010, they released a set of documents called Afghan war diary, and in October, the Iraq war logs. And in November 2010, it released the US state department diplomatic cables. Although, many countries have said that Wikileaks will not cause any disruption in their relationship with the US, an internal strain in the relationships can be well assessed. The two countries reacting to the leaks with regard to cables concerning their country are Iran and Pakistan. The strain was publicly showcased when Ms. Hillary Clinton, Secretary of State of US missed the Iranian Foreign minister at “hello” at a Bahrain security conference. Assagne said, all documents were redacted and only those cables were released which is accepted to be released by all the newspapers, which are in business with the wikileaks. Assagne expressed in an interview with the TIME editor through skype “we don’t have targets other than organizations that use secrecy to conceal unjust behavior and the last thing we would do is to discuss possible source. We expect to be of some assistance to people of all regions who wish to reveal unethical behavior in their government and corporations”. The site is experiencing attacks by denial-of-services and its severance from different Domain Name Systems and is also banned in many countries especially the US.

       A common factor that exists between all the whistle blowers be it international or of the smaller towns of India is the reprisal from the opponents. Victimizing them is no unknown fact. The unpopular ones being washed out sooner and more easily and the rest sued and jailed. The present center of attraction Julian Assagne was charged of sex crimes following the release of US diplomats cables and was remanded after he surrendered himself to the Sweden police, even though, he denies the allegations. Shi Tao was sentenced to ten years in jail from 2005 for the release of an email regarding the Tiananmen Square massacre.
 As far as India is concerned, eight activists have been victimized for their whistle blowing job in this year alone. Sathish Shetty, who blew the whistle on land scams near the Lonavala was murdered in the beginning of the year. The latest inclusion to the murder list in the month of july was Amith Jethwa. He was killed brutally for exposing the mining activities that took place near the Kodina area of Saurashtra, which had the support of BJP MP, Dinubhai Solanki. The others in the list are, Vishram Laxman Dodiya, Shashidhar Mishra, Arun Sawant, Sola Ranga Rao, Vitthal Gite, Dattatraya patil.

        Their lives were slaughtered in their attempt to blow transparency into government’s activities. Unless such eye openers are secured, we would envelope ourselves into an opaque world cemented with illegal activities and corruption. A bill to protect whistle blowers is getting ready, but its content remains a secret.
        How well the bill will protect them and the masses relying on them, only the contents of the bill, action taken and the time will speak.

INCREDIBLE ART OF LANGUAGE

                When you read this summary, give a moments thought on how would the world be without language? If given a deeper thought, it would excruciate the thinker’s mind on his or her existence without a language.

                You happen to read these lines or talk about it as easy as you breathe. How do we learn to speak then? How do we comprehend each others speech? Does it exist in our genes or biologically already exist in our body system?

If it is so, why did the primitives use signs and pictorial representations to convey messages? How did language come about? There are endless questions we can put forth regarding evolution of languages and its diversity.

                Language is diverse from within a country down to community but universal in its aim – communication. A single language can have different variations in speech styles to literary styles just within a community. Best examples come from the Indian languages. Down to the south India, Tamil and Malayalam vary from region to region and community to community. However, the basic grammar of the language remains the same.

                Would you be surprised if some one asked you how you learnt to speak fluently with correct grammar! An immediate answer that sprouts in your mind is that everyone learns to speak in childhood. But, you were not given speech therapy classes, neither text books nor special homework done.

                American researchers say they haven’t been able to trace a specific time when the language developed in the evolutionary history. They have come about with a theory of anatomical characteristic possessed by humans for at least fifty thousand years. Our oral cavity and throat aren’t bow shaped like it had been for our ancestors and other mammals including apes. For humans it is almost at right angles and the voice box is placed deep inside the throat leaving resonating area for sound production along with the tongue. The vocal tract of babies isn’t very different from that of mammals and develops only as they grow.  Babies start learning to speak as early as when they are two months old. They start making sounds at the second month. At 6 months second phase babbling begins leading to single and double syllable formations at the 9^th month. When the baby is a year and a half old the vocabulary takes a great leap. At 3^rd and 4^th year linguistics question arise within them and at 6 years foundation of language is laid.

                Now a logical question hammers into our mind. If al this is biological is it possible for a child to speak when the child has never been subjected to sounds of speech and not allowed to make any sound either? The answer is a blunt no. once the age is crossed, speaking becomes a painful process and is no more like a natural outcome.

Genie, a resident of California, escaped her ordeal at the age of 13. Her parents had locked her up since she was a child and never spoke to her. She was discovered in 1970 and is the “most-tested-child” in speech therapy. But researchers say she is too old to pick up fluency at any rate.

                A child cannot learn a language which is not used in the surroundings. To make a child learn a foreign language from TV or audio cassettes which is not spoken by people around the child is a waste of time. The child may produce sounds relating to the language but it is not registered as something to be used to communicate. This is evident when we are able to speak our mother tongue or the language in our surroundings very fluently to a foreign language we learn anew.  Grammar rules of that language just take a step back.

                The skeleton of every language is its grammar without which we cannot convey a meaningful and comprehensible message. The answer to the question of an existence of a common language or mother of all existing languages is still being researched.

                Noam Chomsky, one of the most important linguists of our times has come up with an idea of ‘universal grammar’. Chomsky believes that the power of languages is biological given and there is a super processor in our brains t speak and react to languages. Every language has the same blue print and hence there exists a universal grammar which is the base of every language. This theory had become like a basic theory on evolution of languages and a project to find the ‘universal grammar’ began.

                For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Dan Everett is one of the major linguists who oppose Chomsky’s theory.  Everett, once a part of Chomsky’s project says, there is a particular tribal group near the Miaci River called the Piranhas whose language has no embedded clause. They simply string in main clauses together. This revelation has almost made the project of universal grammar dead, albeit, they are still researching on this theory and each one is trying to prove the other wrong. Dan Everett tries to prove his theory that language is not biological given but a cultural effect. He calls the absence of embedded clause in piranhas’ language as an “immediacy- of-experience principle”, this is bcoz piranhas live only in present and their language depends only on the immediate need and does not relate to the past and future necessities. He says “all people don’t live in the same century” referring to their anomalous linguistic and cultural style.

                The debate over the evolution of language is going to be a long debate for decades. Whatever be the cause of language evolution, it is just inevitable and it is likely that our world would stop this moment if all stopped "communicating". That is simply why the language is an incredible art.