kerala_rain

this is in regard to the strike goin on in delhi and some parts of india by the students from india's 
premier medical and technology institutes against reservation for backward classes.

apart from the reservation to the scheduled caste and scheduled tribes, the govt plants to allot 
reservation for Other Backward Classes too, which would bring reserved seats in medical and 
technical institues inthe country to almost 50 percent.

i share the ethos of the sturggling students, students mostly from the upper strata of the society 
against reservation, they claim that reservation would affect the quality of education.

But  we never saw, those who are int he streets now, against the govt decisions to start  umpteen
self financing colleges, where, anyone who has money can study,  no one lamented about the
 quality of education then, then what is the ethical position of the medical students who strike 
against the govt, disrupting medical services to the poor of india, the rich woudl go to private 
hospitals.

If they woere concerened about the quality in the colleges in india, they should had agaitated 
when the govt liberalised education sector and changed it from a 'service' to an 'industry'

As a student i could never avail  the mercy of reservations, but i understand that my forefathers where a part of the opressors, i am asahmed to be known as an opressor, who could  not recognise blood and blood.

i have lived on the mercy, of my friends who could avail the benifits of reservation,,  sometimes i am thankful to them too...

crossposted from user </font>gayedexile

Love, 
like rain, 
can nourish from above, 
drenching couples with a soaking joy. 
But sometimes, 
under the angry heat of life, 
love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, 
tending to its roots, 
keeping itself alive.

- Mitch Albom, "The Five People You Meet in Heaven"

Her eyes were like thorn leaves, she would look at me when I used to be there.
I was like any visitor to her place… but she knew that I was an intruder.
She wanted a man, to look at her, to caress her hair replacing her red sweater.
But never would I look her.
I was there to see her mother, and what she could me.
One day I saw her mother thrashing her. “This girl don’t know how to behave with guests sir”, the mother told me.
I gave a sad smile, said nothing, because I went there to see the mother and not the daughter.
Today I went there to see the mother again,
I saw her lying on the floor, there was a beer bottle beside her. She was spewing, unconsciously. The daughter saw me and whispered. “uncle mummy is sick” and she took a cigarette from her pocket. She handled the packet like she would with a Barbie.
“Where is the matches” I asked her. “its in mummy’s pocket” she replied without looking at me and started searching her.
The daughter is three year old sonam, and I am in a city where cigarettes are banned. Sonam’s mother live by selling cigarettes.
When I left, sonam’s eyes were burning like a cigarette, she wanted the matches, she wanted milk before falling asleep.

i felt like reading levinas... i dont have access to his primary materials now...

but here is some seconary material...

on

why should i be grateful to my enemy

levinas often quotes two lines from Dostoyevsky: "We are all guilty of all and for all men before all, and I more than the others"; and, "We are all responsible for all men before all, and I more than all the others." {3}

He believes that all others, have a claim on me by virtue of their humanity. I am subjectively aware of their existence even before I am aware of my own. And it is primarily in becoming aware of the other's face that I see myself. The face of the other is the mark of humanity that most reveals the presence of God. No other part of a human being distinguishes him more; no other part of him farther more transcends his humanness and points to God.

Without the other, I could not see myself--and even when the other sees me inaccurately or with a bias to do harm, I am still his debtor for what he reveals in me. At times, the enemy may even see me more clearly than does my friend. I am a debtor to him for a perspective about me that invigorates my search to know who I am.

Who am I? Levinas argues I am both guilty and responsible. Simply put, if I were in the garden as a man I would be silent, eat, and then turn fearful and violent. My enemy reveals I of all men am most guilty.

But I am not merely a broken shard, a miscreant with no hope. The enemy shatters the presumption of my self-righteousness by showing me how little heart I have for God. The party begins and then I notice that my brother has not joined the festivities. He has refused to come in and I am responsible for him. It is the Father who goes for his eldest boy; but it is I, his other, errant, self-righteous son, who bear the responsibility to party.

I will face my older brother, who is now my enemy, soon enough, and I must do so with the living paradox that I am an unworthy son who has been dressed in robes, shoes, and a ring that laugh at my sin even though my heart breaks.

If I truly see the gospel more clearly because of my enemy, then how can I not thank him? My responsibility to all humankind, at core, is to be grateful for their existence. A friend draws me to the intimacy of the banquet; an enemy compels me to see that the only way I will banquet with God is through the wonder of his forgiveness. I am a debtor to my enemy for being the postman who delivers my invitation to life.

An enemy is also the window of truth. If I am humbled by what my enemy reveals in my heart, then I am better prepared to listen to his claims against me. Our enemies would not be troubling to us if they did not bring to our attention truths that we have not taken into account or articulated well for life. An enemy not only invites us to intimacy but provide clarity to grow in truth.

Immanuel Levinas, Ethics and Infinity

A Look at Why We Wrongly Love Our Enemies
By Dan Allender

freedom is granted to those previously enslaved to truth.

maurice blanchot

ASPEN TREE, your leaves glance white into the dark.
My mother's hair was never white.

Dandelion, so green is the Ukraine.
My yellow-haired mother did not come home.

Rain cloud, above the well do you hover?
My quiet mother weeps for everyone.

Round star, you wind the golden loop.
My mother's heart was ripped by lead.

Oaken door, who lifted you off your hinges?
My gentle mother cannot return.

paul celan, aspen tree, holocaust poet

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"terrorism is war against rich people
war is terrorism against poor people"

me was told that theese dictum is too essential... reductionist..
of course it is,
you cant say that all terrorism is war against the rich.

now ask me, "were all the people killed in WTO 'sinners', were they rich..."

this is a real problematic, faced when you take a stand against multinational

capitalism, and an american centric philosophy of economy and life.

 my point is... the wto victims
they were not the victim of bin laden, they were the victim of multinational, capitalist,

colonial america..
means, to put it straight,
its george bush who killed them.

and they are not martyers of america, they are only victims,
and their death, were used by the state as a promotional advertisment... used

strategically, as 'emotional' and political violence.
which untimately was directed against the iraqies and afgans,
dropping bombs and food packets from the same airfighter.
--------
it is to this strategic violence, that we use, a 'strategic essentialism' when saying

that terrorism is 'war against rich people'...

it is the 'survival tatics' of the oppressed, 

a tatics, not for oil or money but for existence...

 this statement-'terrorism is war against rich people' is not a universal 'truth'-

applicable to all times and all people,
its contextual, and always under the chance of 'erasure'

'would love someone to, tear up-art my argument'

terrorism is war against rich people
war is terrorism against poor people


taken from user
shannonkringen

have always wondered when novelist, poets and writers claim, that they always write on a computer...

those bygone days when i was a lefty, methinks about computers as damn objects, un/in/human things... how can  the 1s and 0s comprehend human language.
mere/members  my first email to my uncle  abroad 4 years back, he was the only person, whom i knew who had an email account.
i wrote,

"dear achacha{this is how christians adress, an elder brother or an uncle}
this  is my email. i am soo happy that you have an email and now i also have one.
achacha, this is very hard to write in this computer, i love the smell of paper, and ink spreading  to my fingers from my leaking fountain pen.
achacha how are you. hope you are fine. i am also fine.
with love
-----------"

it took me atleast an hour to complete the above letter, now i dislike paper,  not because i dislike it  but because, i can't write on paper.
english or malayalam, i want a computer, i want word2000, i want adobe pagemaker. i cant even imagine myself without a writing apparatus that does not have cut and paste, cntrl Z, cntrl X, cntrl V.

can you imagine... a situation if i lose the present job.
i will be with out a computer, now how will i write...

where is macluhan,

 sir, the medium itself has become the thing, what to do sir...achacha what to do

 

i am a mobile phone customer for the past 6 months...
it happen one day, a beautiful girl came to my office, and declared that i would be taking a connection, and that too a post paid one... till that day i have not even thought of using a mobile phone.
she said that, if I would take a conenction, her target would be completed, otherwise she would lose her job.... OHHH god, it me who is goin to decide her career..
what shall i do... I took a connection...i had to pay monthly rentals... and there was another golden offer that tempted me... she said that i could call to another mobile total free if i would pay another 100 rs extra each month.. OHH..
and it didnt take so long for my gf to take a prepaid connection and she managed to get a mobile instrument for a low price... which looked like a cricket bat.
and now... I have a connection but where is the set... i started, looking for second hand sets.. at last managed one, an old nokia set... which has to be connected to electricity, most of the time... for its battery wont stand more that 2 hours..
and now...a free bird like me who even detest wearing underwears, watches, shoes, baniyans, wallets..
now had to carry a mobile instrument.. which makes my pocket hang like my grandmothers tits.
and moreover, i had to carry the charger too.. in my pants pocket, every where...makes a big bulge on one side..

and then followed, hidden charges, unknown charges, service tax, added to the rental and the call charges..
hmm.. maybe i should convert my sigarette expenses to phone expense... but as the moble expense increased, my sigarette expense shot up..
and one day, i wnt to the mobile gallery, ohh i was so politely invited in given a seat...
i said my grivances... that.. i need to see a detailed bill.. for there has been charges incurred for calls that i have not made...
sir, you have to pay an extra 50 rs to see the detailed bill... she said with a killing smile,
poitely she revealed the message that, lowermillde class guys should rather not try such luxuary, as i sat there, handsome guys and women of glory, came in paid their bills with out any fuss...

im still a customer of the same service provider,
still comes the large bills along with the 'have a nice time sir' and 'thank you for your valuable time' lullaby...
it seems.. i pay for their lullaby...

http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v58/kerala_rain/writing.jpg

[IMG]http://img19.photobucket.com/albums/v58/kerala_rain/writing.jpg[/IMG]