We are living it. This is the age of technology, the age of markets, the age of development; yet the spectre of war looms dark in the background. Each time we think we've moved ahead, we are precipitated once more into the vortex… the victim or helpless spectator.
The human state and the state of war
Human history is the story of the rise and fall of the great empires across the world. We have the stories of civilisation, industrialisation, the emergence of technologies, the rise of cooperation and cooperative mechanisms as institutions, the rule of law and various regulatory authorities cutting across boundaries. But these stories for most part have also been caught up with and have been subjugated to notions of power and control.
Rise of society and civilisation has been followed by the fall, and the rise of the nation state and all therein has been accompanied by the development of the war machine to protect it. Now inter-state wars have given way in prominence to intra-state and proxy wars and fears of another world war are subsumed under the rising threat of terrorism.
War as a paradigm
Whichever way we turn, there appears to be a war impending or in the offing. The state of war predicated on the notions of power and control is perpetuated by the very system, mindset and beliefs we live by. The rules of the game leave the players little choice. But who is to say that the rules cannot be changed, or the notions of power and control reconsidered (or even replaced)?
There is much to support the understanding that the war game is but a paradigm, even at the level of a society or nation or a global system. Sociologists and constructivists have built their entire discipline on the premise that society, culture and our way of being is a social construct, allowing for the entire basis of the concept of social engineering. Marx had made the distinction between human subjectivity and the material world in his vision of the capitalist society, and warned against the power of the super-structure of dominating ideals and beliefs: all that "men say, imagine, conceive" which spills over to politics, law, and so forth.
Feminist political theory has attributed the prominence of war as a valid resort in human relations to the fact that structuring and managing these relations in terms of society and state has long been a primarily male preserve. The democratic peace theory which is the profession that democracies do not go to war against each other, builds upon the foundation that where the people themselves are concerned war is not an option, especially against other people. Populations and the media today are also talking of war as a political tool.
Different theories and approaches for various ends – but what the point here is, is that there are alternatives to the zero-sum game of war in its many faces.
A paradigm shift
Outside of the theorising there are so many indicators that we as the people can break away. Werner Erhard when dealing with human awareness and potential tapped into ontological spaces or a way of 'being' that can determine operative paradigms, as a lot of my friends who underwent the programme at some point would relate to. As most of us begin to disentangle from routine and engage outwards we are beginning to see the bigger picture out there, even as the term "getting the bigger picture" strengthens its roots in common parlance.
There are alternatives, not only alternative rules to the war paradigm but alternative paradigms themselves. There is a humanity bigger than war; and as the other looming threat of climate change continues to remind us, a world bigger than human kind too. There is much that can be enjoyed of this world bigger and beyond, if only we can make the paradigm shift.
It looks rather spare at first glance... a large, L-shaped room with minimal furniture (some nice pieces though, for the appreciative eye), a large painting stuck behind a sofa, interestingly random knick-knacks in the likely corners. A second look reveals the brightly coloured food and water bowls tucked away next to a strategic wall, a host of well-chewed brightly coloured toys ranging from a cross-eyed cock with a wing torn off and a mangled rope-fringe to a variety of balls and squeakies (no dirty puns intended at any time!!!). And then she scampers in… small, shiny black with enquiring eyes and a furiously waving tail, bringing the room to life. :D
I knew this little lady who could not have been loved more. I met her when she was well past her prime, but still had the softest, silkiest coat and soulful eyes that also missed nothing. As I grew to know her better I realised she was integral to many lives – she knew all family and friends inside out, and more importantly, gave each the space and the love they needed.
She had also developed the traits of loved elders who take their space and attention as a right. All who have met her have competed for space on the bed, or been pulled to pet her immediately when she would give 'the look' or reach out the minute she felt she wasn't getting her due. But this competition from each time that I can remember resulted in a cosy group hug – with Stephie at the heart of it – that lasted pretty much the entire visit.
She had the fullest life reaching everyone around, and still brings a smile to those who think of her. I couldn’t be happier for having known her.
The rains came. And the roads made by mankind were washed away. The roads in Gurgaon caved in – and I do mean caved right in, at least by 8-10 feet, right behind where I stay. These are roads that have just been developed (and are reminiscent of a number of others that are laid all over again at least twice a year in this growing township) to broad splendour, to allow at least 3 cars a side to travel abreast.
Gurgaon is touted as the Millennium City with a breathtaking skyline (though one must admit that this is only so if one is cruising past at a height over the flyovers at NH-8 – the view does change completely at the ground level), the corporate hubs and high-rise apartments. Enormous volumes of resources are being sunk into its expansion and the luxuries on offer (I also refuse to get tempted to get into the whole discussion of resource exploitation and the concretisation of green field and agricultural land to make this
The costs of this development are being borne through the various taxes and charges that are paid by someone, if not all. While I remain a relatively new entrant to the world of bona fide employment and tax paying I have grown up to and continue to be engulfed by the annual March crisis, and scrabbling for change at the toll booth (to and fro) is a daily reality.
I have also spent the last few months steeped in information and interactions around the new nemesis of climate change – and have it on authority that construction and transport remain among the top five human activities that cause global warming (also given that it is primarily human activity that has led us to the current crisis) which in turn will ensure more erratic climatic behaviour as the unseasonal rains that have laid the ground for this tale.
I remain unconvinced by the reality of engaging multiple times in the same development activity that increases the cost of money itself and launches further assaults on our lives and surroundings, on account of insincere commitments of the various stakeholders and bad or downright dishonest workmanship that compromises quality. I also refuse to believe that it is technological or resource incapacities at play with reference to India and her people, with advances across the board that we like to be proud of. In any case I feel like I have God's own task in making my way to work each day.
The first time I went rafting was in November last year. I've been back three more times since, and am waiting for the start of the rafting season again to hit the water.
The weekend getaway begins with the journey to the beach camp at Shivpuri with the volley ball court, the red rafts and yellow paddles that line the river bank, the well-equipped airy tents that line the beach, and the little touches of welcome garlands and refreshments while you look around in relief (at having managed to reach camp) and awe (at the surroundings). The beautiful, silvery beach is the cleanest and the softest sand that I've ever had the luxury to step upon, and there is tree laden with big orange flowers that I look for as I complete the downward climb from the road to the camp. The water is a clear, icy green which meets greens and browns of the foothills that bind the river, which in turn stand against the blue sky and brilliant sunshine.
The usual camp routine begins with a rush towards the tents to discard all extras, change into shorts, and rush back out to stand barefoot on the beach. Food, briefings… and then time to get into the river. I've been to camp with a mix of friends, family and strangers each time, some old-timers and some novices – and the run into the water together is the best start. Cries of 'Har Har Gange', squeals and delighted laughter abound as all dunk themselves and others in the holy river, before going off in rafts or canoes. The day passes with the struggles to synchronise paddles, racing to get to the best rapids, jumping off the raft to let the river carry us along some of the stretches, and the inevitable dunkings and water fights across rafts. We come back tired (but exhilarated) to hot tea, snacks, a shower, and evening revelries around a bonfire on the beach. Starlit skies give way to an early dawn when the fishes are fed, making little ripples as they jump at the bread crumbs thrown in – and it starts all over again.
Over the past visits, I've come to know the names of the rapids on the usual stretch of the river, and some of their peculiarities. Each rafting trip is a different experience of the river, which changes with the season, the time of the day, and the level of water released by the new dam upriver. The different activities – rafting, canoeing, kayaking, bodysurfing, or even jumping off a ledge twenty feet above the water (the 'cliff jump'), and the latest (and possibly most fun) which has been slithering down a fifty feet long rope off a bridge that is sixty feet above the water at one of the most beautiful bends of the river – each add a new dimension. The respect for and trust in the camp guides and the safety equipment are also a critical element. Their passion for the river and for adventure is communicable, as each time at the cliff jump the instructor in the raft races to make the first jump into the deep.
I end up driving a lot, taking a circuitous route to work and back… from gurgaon to cp via the highway and then cut across back to the other side of town – adchini, qutab institutional area, jnu…The first leg of my journey is generally pleasant as this is the time I get to 'hang out' with my cutie (hehe) but it is the drive across the city that has me marveling.
I love the rambling roads and the roundabouts that take you away from the heart of
And it isn't just this stretch – no matter how busy the localities, for most people escape to natural havens would mean no more than ten-fifteen minutes. Large parks retaining the original rocky land and green of
I realized how much I took it all for granted when recently, driving out through one of the new roads in gurgaon cut through the field and the rock outside of the original settlement areas, I looked up and sighed and told my cutie how I really like traveling this way. He turned around and agreed, adding, 'its like being in
