The Spiraling Descent of Truth

As a student of Communication studies, I have always been interested in digging a little deeper into the various mysteries that shroud the discipline. Today, I was engrossed in reading about one of the communication theories called Spiral of Silence, proposed by German political scientist Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann in 1974.  Quite forgetting the fact that I was supposed to be studying this theory from the standpoint of my upcoming exams, fascination got the better of me and I lost myself in the depths of this theory.

Neumann essentially says that this theory is an attempt to explain how public opinion is formed. According to this theory, people tend to become withdrawn and remain silent when they feel that their views are in minority.

Now, this is something which is quite simple to comprehend. Indeed, right from a first grade school-goer to office-going elders, people think twice about articulating their views in public. They fear isolation more than not getting an opportunity to voice their judgement. Man is after all a social animal and the fear of being marginalized from mainstream society is always great.

Undoubtedly, Neumann has outdone herself by proposing this theory as early as the 1970s. However, my appeal for this theory increased manifold when I was able to draw a connection to this theory and trace its roots back to our puranic times, more than 5000 years ago- an example in the Mahabharata which gives examples for this theory and also disproves it.

The example which proves the existence of the spiral of silence theory as early as 5000 years ago can be seen in the scene where the Pandavas have lost everything in the game of dice-their sovereignty, wealth, themselves, and their wife, the fire-born Draupadi, to the Kauravas. Rapacious Duryodhana brashly orders his brother Dusshasana to drag the empress of Indraprastha to the sabha.

Once Draupadi is dragged into the sabha, Duryodhana says that the Pandavas have gambled her away and lost and thus, she is the slave of the Kauravas. Subsequently, he orders Dusshasana to strip her naked in front of the most powerful Kuru veterans like  Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Dhritarashtra and others.

The Pandavas, despite watching the humiliation that their wife undergoes, do not utter a word in protest as they feel that doing so will go against the code of Dharma as they have, after all, gambled away their wife and lost. 

However, what about all the other veterans present there? Bhishma was the pitamaha, the grand-old-sir of the Kurus. He did not voice his dissent against the sacrilege that was being committed in the sabha. Neither did Drona, the all-powerful acharya of the Kurus. According to the epic, each of them had a reason for remaining silent- Bhishma had promised Satyavati, his step-mother and father Shantanu that his loyalty would always remain with the throne of Hastinapura. Drona had regained his lost respect and had risen to great renown only under the king of Hastinapura Dhritarashtra’s patronage. Thus, voicing their opinions against what Duryodhana, Dhritarashtra’s son was doing, was out of question.

This instance can also be seen from the point of view of Neumann’s theory- Drona probably felt that when eminent Kuru elders like Bhishma, Kripaacharya, Dhritarashtra, etc did not express their outlook, if he, Drona protested against the injustice being meted out to Draupadi, he might probably be in the minority.  In fact, the only person who spoke out against Duryodhana was his brother Vikarna who said that this heinous sin on their part would bring about the ruin of the Kauravas, and Draupadi had to be accorded nothing less than the utmost respect.

Vikarna is thus, a classic exception to the rule of theory of spiral of silence while Dronacharya, Bhishma and the others are excellent examples that prove this theory.

This, more than anything else, bears ample testimony to the Sanskrit adage about the Mahabharata - “Yad iha asti tadanyatra, yenne haasti na tat quachit ” -  What is here(in the Mahabharata) is everywhere else, what is not mentioned here(in the Mahabharata) will not be found anywhere else.

GODdammnedMen= Godmen

God. Godmen. God.Godmen. Oh god, these darn godmen!

Krishna, in the Mahabharata, told the Pandavas that Kali Yuga would be the era in which man, by merely chanting the name of god with staunch devotion and not undergoing severe penance (a feature of the other three yugas),could easily attain moksha or salvation- a concept in Hinduism which talks about eternal freedom from the exhausting cycle of birth and death.

Does this explain the sudden influx of Babas and Swamijis in the nation? Does this perhaps explain the rise of self-proclaimed god-men like Nithyananda, Ramdev, and the now notoriously-renowned Asaram Bapu?

To the point of sounding extremely cynical yet realistic, this is the world as we know it- supposedly advanced in thought and outlook, but full of nut-case politicians for whom mere wealth is synonymous with power,deranged rapists, and now, added to this elite group are god-men. Oh joy. 

What is it with society, well, with the world, today? Intellectuals all over are preaching about how thinking and planning ahead can put India on the map of developed nations; how one has to think big in order to achieve anything. Countries world-over are talking about adopting traditional Indian concepts like thayir sadam to cool the body, curry leaves for jet black hair, yoga for a perfect body, so on and so forth. Yet, men in India seem to fall back on the age-old obsolete convention of treating women like rag-dolls  5000 odd years ago, we had Duryodhana and Dusshasana almost stripping their sister-in-law Draupadi naked in a sabha full of Kuru veterans. Before that, we had Ravana pulling Sita by her hair and taking her captive to Lanka. Now, we have a group of men who think that their masculinity stems from their ability to gang-rape a woman mercilessly, and god-men who flippantly and irrationally comment on how women in such position should seek mercy from their ruthless captors, in order to save themselves from the dishonour of rape. 

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I had come across a bizarre but extremely accurate definition of the term rape a few weeks ago on the internet- this is how it goes:

‘Rape: The only crime where the victim becomes the accused.’

The more I read the definition and went over it in my head, the more convinced I was of how cynical it was ,but also how very true it was. In my previous post, I'd expressed the murderous feeling I had harboured towards men, more-so after reading about the demons who had gang-raped a girl in Delhi. However, after writing about it, I had started to simmer down. Now, I've barely gotten over how much frustration I feel towards men and society in general, and Asaram Bapu has done it again! 

The self-proclaimed god-man, the charlatan I truly believe Asaram Bapu is, imparted what he mulishly presumed was gyaan- if ever a woman is about to be raped, refer to the potential rapist as bhaiya- brother. According to a report on CNN-IBN, the so-called spiritual leader advised women on the verge of being raped to say- "Bhaiya! Main abla hoon, tum mere bhai ho. Dharam ke bhai ho. Bhagwan ke naam lekar haath pakadti, pair pakadti."   

Yes, 5000 years ago, while Duryodhana and Dusshasana tried to strip Draupadi naked in spite of her begging them to show mercy, in spite of her being their sister-in-law, today, women merely have to refer to strange men who are trying to rape them as bhaiya and they are saved.

So, all you women out there, or abla naaris, as Asaram Bapu thinks you are, it's simple ,according to him- if ever you are in danger of being raped, forget about pepper-spray, forget about chilly-powder. Whip out the trusted rakhi from your handbags and refer to the monster as bhaiya. Then, the concept of rape will cease to exist in India. Poverty cannot be eradicated, nor can India become a developed nation by 2020. But, use a rakhi on your potential rapist , and the concept of rape will undoubtedly be wiped out from India, nay, from the world itself.   

In conclusion: God-men, men, BAH. 

U.N.T.I.T.L.E.D

I am a tad late on penning my views on the notorious gang-rape at Delhi which occurred on that fateful day, on  December 17th this year. However, better late than never is a policy that I believe in. Also, write-ups about such instances will never run out of value as they are a commonality in our great, diverse nation.

  Disclaimer: This post is written at a time when the author is in a murderously furious state and wants to rid the world of men-actually, men and women, who lack the sensitivity to actually opine that there is a cause for rape and that every man who rapes a woman has a reason to do so.

P.S: While the murderous feeling may prevail for awhile, the stance to rid the world of men will not. It is a temporary phase and is a result of the irritation and angst the author is feeling, with respect to men. While this post might sound a tad sexist, it is definitely not the intention. The post is merely the result of the extreme frustration felt by a 22-year- old towards men, who, despite belonging to the supposedly elite, sophisticated realms of society, act like barbarians.

As a student of a well-known college for women in Nungambakkam, Chennai, I expect certain standards of intelligence from the staff. Well, intelligence, sensitivity, all the same, in this case. A new professor has been appointed for the social ethics course in college and the first class of the semester began with a general discussion on the iniquitous Delhi gang-rape that blemished human kind, earlier this month on the 17th. The professor commenced by saying- “You girls must have heard about the plight of the rape-victim in Delhi. This is not the first time, a woman has fallen prey to crude, rapacious behaviour. Admittedly, she need not have gone for a movie that late at night. However, she did not deserve to be raped. Why do you girls think she was raped? What according to you is the cause for rape?”

Now, call me supercilious, but I firmly believe that social ethics classes in college are nothing more than a charade. They are, according to me, nothing more than weekly- one –hour- sessions where students sit in a classroom and allow themselves mental excursions, under the pretext of discussing issues of social relevance. Needless to say, I rarely pay attention in these classes. I am in a world, quite far away, lost in the expanse of oblivion, savouring the feeling of being blank for awhile, albeit, a short duration. All of a sudden, I was jolted out of my reverie by a question that was voiced loudly and clearly in class – “Women dress provocatively and often, this results in rape. So, what do you girls think was the cause of rape, in the case of the girl who was gang-raped in Delhi?”

My social ethics professor had done the impossible- she had rendered me speechless for over a whole minute. Words failed me as she awaited an answer to what she presumably thought was an intelligent question- what is the reason for rape? I was dumbstruck.

 I’m attuned to men being crass and unfeeling to women. According to many men, in fact, most men I've come across, their wives, women of the house, are not meant for anything more than cooking for them, cleaning the house and basically being domestic. Such men care naught that women too are high achievers and there’s a lot more to them than merely cooking, cleaning and housekeeping. However, what shocked me into speechlessness was the sheer insensitivity of a woman, my professor, towards a member of her sex.

 What can be the cause of rape? The question is devoid of logic. Fundamentally flawed. My professor’s statement was that women are raped because they dress provocatively, in which case, there was no reason for the girl from Delhi to be gang-raped as there is no mention of provocative dressing. It can be thus be established that women who dress provocatively are raped, women who are nude are raped, and women, even if fully-clad, are stripped naked of their honour and raped by animals, just like, in the case of the student from Delhi. She was raped not because she was dressed provocatively. She was raped because she was out at night, enjoying a movie, after a hard day’s work. Seems about right because it clearly reverberates with the resonant sentiments of society’s demons- how can a woman consider having fun? No, rape her and punish for the mere thought. Having fun, after all, is a man’s prerogative.


There is thus only one plausible answer to my professor’s question, for want of a better way of terming it- there is no cause for rape except that it happens as men are aware of their power to strip a woman naked and walk away nonchalantly, as thought nothing of significance happened. A man rapes a woman for no other reason apart from the fact that he knows he has the power to do so. He knows he can. What else would explain why Duryodhana almost raped Draupadi in front of her five valorous, unconquerable husbands 5000 odd years ago, or why his brother Dusshasana tried to strip the Kuru empress naked, in a sabha full of veterans?

An old Sanskrit proverb goes - ''Yatra naryastu pujyante ramante tatra devataha" . It essentially can be translated to mean, ''Where women are worshiped, there the Gods reside''. Now, it is ok if women are not worshipped by men. But it is unpardonable and unacceptable that they are stamped and raped.

Now you know why I am in a murderous state towards men. This scene has been witnessed innumerable times as a reflection of society. As a reflection of how men of today, who are supposedly cultured, sophisticated and well-educated, still think that a woman’s job is within the confines of her kitchen, that a woman dared not walk out on the streets or have fun at night, that a woman should be a reflection of the all-suffering, ever-patient Bharatmata, enduring all the crap men and society throw at her without raising a voice.


Behind the facade of culture, sophistication and learning, is a society that is essentially barbaric. Uncultured. Uncivilised. Krishna, in the Mahabharata, poses a question to Arjuna- if society kept mum while the queen of Indraprastha, Draupadi, was being stripped naked in the middle of her menstrual cycle, how could the society take care of lesser women? This question has been answered perfectly- after all, actions speak louder than words and the gang that raped the girl in Delhi have answered it most effectively. It is of little wonder that many women today are trodden upon by men, or are surrounded by chauvinists who think they have the license to do so because they are sure of the woman remaining silent.

Well, the man who was essentially God was bang-on, 5000 years ago, wasn't he?

OF GOLDEN PROMISES AND SHATTERED DREAMS...

People are officially declared dead when there is no twitching of limbs. When heat in the body is replaced by deathly cold. When breathing has devolved to nothingness. Even in such situations, near and dear ones lose their sagacity and develop denial as a defence mechanism, refusing to accept the death of their beloved. What happens then, if a town is declared dead? How then are poor miners, who gave their blood and breath, literally (as this is what silicosis does) to the mines, expected to accept that their town, once rich with its gold fields, is a dead town?

What struck me odd when I set foot into Kolar was its stillness. The silence that blanketed the village was unnerving. It was undoubtedly a change from the frantic frenzy that characterized Chennai. It was birds, monkeys, fresh air, mountains and a blue sky that greeted me in Kolar. Yet, there was something strange about the town. The quietude was almost ghostly. There were hardly any signs of employment.

The Kolar Gold Fields, popularly known as KGF, is often referred to as a ghost town. Right from 2001 when Bharat Gold Mines Ltd (BGML) closed down operations and miners were forced to retire, KGF has worn a deserted look. Travelling through different parts of KGF- Coramandel, Oorgaum, Champion Reef or Marikuppam which marks the end of KGF, it is not uncommon to see people sitting outside small houses or huts, having vacant expressions on their faces , moving amidst hens and cattle and essentially, having a lot of time at their disposal . This is the situation that people of KGF face- a result of long periods of unemployment. The few people who are moving about are those that are desperate to not miss their train to Hosur, Mysore or Bangalore as it could mean a loss of money. Their only way of making a livelihood is to travel to the richer parts of Karnataka and work as coolies or painters – in short, to pursue any work that gives them the bare minimum required, in order to make their ends meet and ensure them two square meals a day.

This is where I ran into Albert, in Marikuppam. I was about to apologise when I realised that there was something odd about him- two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, two hands - yes—all there and intact. Then what was it that was odd about him? Was it his sunken eyes, a tiredness on his face that cannot quite be taken care of by a mere few hours of rest, lines of worry on his forehead? But no. Lines of worry were characteristic of people in KGF. It was Albert’s feet, rather, the lack of them that resulted in a conversation with him. Like every other person in Kolar, Albert too had a story to tell- Of once mining for gold and now, looking for any job that he could do despite being a handicap so that he would be assured a survival.

A miner for 18 years, Albert’s life was not easy. Three young children and a wife, an unmarried sister, a perennially worried mother and a father suffering from silicosis is not easy to deal with, especially if there is only earning member in the family. This is however the reality that Albert,a miner working in the Kolar Gold Fields, faced.

“Initially, it was my father who was working in the mines. I remember as a child, how I’d see him come back home, drenched in sweat, and tired out, everyday,” says Albert. “He used to work in the mines until he was diagnosed with silicosis- a disease which affects the lungs and is caused by long-term exposure to fine silica dust from the mines. Later, as the disease began taking a toll on him, he told BGML authorities that he could no longer continue working in the mines. This was in 1967, and Albert’s family moved to Vellore. Later, the authorities offered employment to the children of miners who worked with them.

“As the question of my father working in the mines was no longer a possibility due to silicosis steadily wearing him down, I began working in the mines, much to my mother’s discomfiture which was not unwarranted. After all, she was seeing my father dying a slow and painful death as silicosis tightened its pincer-like grip on him. However, my cousin who was also working in the mines convinced my mother to send me for work. Keeping in mind our financial constraints and the fact that our family was a large one, my mother permitted me to go for work. It was not like we had any other option. Death was certain either way- death due to silicosis or death due to starvation if we didn’t have money to fetch us a square meal a day. It was only a question of which was less painful,” he adds.

Silicosis is something which haunts Albert even today. Try as he might, he can never forget how his father suffered. The spasms of pain, the amount of blood he vomited with each cough , incessant coughing, a continual burning sensation in the chest due to ceaseless coughing, acute shortage of breath – his father suffered from all of these due to silicosis. Till date, if someone around Albert starts coughing incessantly and has continual breathing problems, his old nightmare about silicosis comes back to haunt him and he vividly remembers the pain and suffering his father had endured, until death was kind enough to grant him respite from a physically and mentally fatigued life.

It has been a decade since the mines have shut down. However, nothing has changed- be it the status of people’s unemployment, lack of housing and health facilities, or a better livelihood. Says Albert, “I was toiling away in the mines when one day I heard rumours that the mines would be shut down as they were running at a loss. I tried hard not to believe it. However, it became a reality. Call it a quirk of fate, but on the day the official announcement came, I was about to board a train which would take me to Coramandel and I missed the landing and met with an accident which resulted in my losing both my legs. Thus, I had no option but to remain at home. The same day, an announcement was made that the mines were closing down. My fellow miners were forced to retire. We were promised around five lakhs as part of the Voluntary Retirement Scheme, but we’ve barely got a lakh and that too, only after seven years of shutting down the mines. We’ve been given houses to live in. Though the houses are in our names, we are not permitted to sell them or rent them. Initially, when the houses were given to us, it was enough for most families as they had only two or three members. Now, with the lapse of time, families have grown in numbers and when we try to build extensions to our houses using the little money we can scrounge up, security is sent to our areas to forbid us from building extensions to our houses.”

As Albert is unable to work due to his handicap, it is his sons who have to work, in order to ensure the survival of their family. Two of Albert’s children work as coolie workers in Hosur and Mysore. However, their earnings go towards their own children and family. Thus, the only way Albert is able to run his family is through the earnings of his youngest son who gives him around Rs.2000 a month. Apart from this, all Albert has to fall back on is Rs.1000 which he gets as pension allowed for the handicapped and Rs.700 from BGML.

Talks of re-opening the mines are in progress. However, until then, life for residents of Kolar will continue in the same vein. This might be Albert’s story. However, it mirrors the everyday trials and tribulations of every other person in KGF.

“Harati nimeshat kalaha sarvam’’ roughly translated as “Time destroys everything in a moment” – this is what Adi Shankaracharya said in the Bhaja Govindam and how very true he is! Few people believe in karma. The truth that a person’s karma from their past can catch up with them many births later as expounded in the Hindu philosophy is something not many people believe in. As for the ones who do believe in this theory, they are often looked upon with disdain and condescending looks of “aww, poor you, you’ve gone off the rocker”. This in short, is also what we nonchalantly term as fate. Undeniably, the ways of fate are impossible to discern and inexplicably terrifying. Things we have no logical reasons or answers to, we tend to term as fate. What else then, can explain the tragic case of Ishan Srinivasan, my brother who drowned while trying to save a friend? He had everything going uphill for him – an extremely close knit and loving family, popularity, friends and above all, he was an amazing person. A good human being. Why then, did he drown in a lake he had swum in so many times before? Why then, did he drown while trying to save a friend who had the support of a life jacket? These questions can never be answered. Nor will answering them mitigate the loss of a brother whose death has come as a horrible shock to me and whose death I feel miserable over.

People often say that in this yuga of Kali, in this era where darkness and evil threaten to overwhelm human existence; courage in the face of adversity, self sacrifice in the face of danger, compassion, being selfless and benevolent when it really matters are aspects which are conspicuous by their sheer absence, even nonexistence. I however, beg to differ. My brother died at 21, an age when life begins and is definitely not an age when it is snuffed out into oblivion. He died because he put the lives of his friends above his own. Kali Yuga is not an era of evil and pessimism alone as people believe it to be. It is an era where there is a glimmer of hope for humanity, for altruism. It is an age where the concluding line of Shelly’s ‘Ode to the West Wind’ makes sense – “if winter comes, can spring be far behind? “ While darkness and evil may well be the prevailing aspects of the Kali, goodness is not entirely nonexistent. Yes, I feel miserable that my brother died at a stage when he was on the threshold of life. He had so much to accomplish, so much to establish, so much to enjoy and above all, so very much to live for. I am not a huge fan of martyrs, but I have to admit it, I am proud of him- my brother died a hero, he died a martyr.

Over the last few months, I have been living in my own delusional world of what I perceived to be significant. I had a fallout with someone I fallaciously and unwisely believed was close to me. I worried over inconsequential things like assessments, assignments, paltry squabbles with people, work and more. However, my brother’s untimely death has put everything in perspective. He might not have lived long, yet I know he touched many lives, both while living and even as he was dying.

Ishan, my brother, I salute you. Rest in Peace.



http://www.thestar.com/news/article/997879--mississauga-man-drowned-worrying-about-his-friend

PSBB- A WAY OF LIFE

It's been a year since I left the portals of my school PSBB; a name oft heard being discussed by people for various reasons. As the adage goes, time and tide indeed wait for none. I'm amazed to find that a whole year in college is done and dusted and I have but two more years to go before I have to shed my 'carefree and irresponsible ways' and become an 'adult' in the true meaning of the word. College is truckloads of fun. Being typical human beings, we always have grudges about anything and everything. It is only when we are away from it do we realize how much we miss it. Same is the case with me with respect to my Alma mater PSBB. While at school, I always had grudges against small things. Now being in college a whole year has brought me a lot of fun albeit, there are times when I miss PSBB terribly.

The inevitable list:

A FEW THINGS P.S.B.B:
1) Shri gurubhyo namaha, sukhi bhava: the typical P.S.B.B way of students greeting teachers and teachers blessing them in return. It has a very unique ring to it.

2) Morning assemblies with TM which never failed to induce its soporific effect on us.

3) Elections : the clichéd yet delightful period in school where every section of the 12th would be actively involved in ensuring that their candidate would be a shoo-in for the post of school prefect. The school would be transformed into a colorful canvass …. The banners, the posters et al...

4) YGP- YGP

5) Anniversaries – truly unforgettable.

6) Reverberations- the 11th and 12th would enjoy it while the 9th and 10th wished that they were in the 11th or 12th.

7) Maargazhi Mahotsav- the school would come alive in December with religious sayings, shlokas and upanyasas by Velukudi Krishnan and many others. Mellifluous renditions of popular carnatic songs in the kutcheris, dance performances were the order of the day.

8) G.As- was, is and will always be synonymous with FUN. The enthusiasm from the students has always been overwhelming.

9) The canteen

10) Pattani Sundal Bonda Bajji

11) A few teachers and friends who are instrumental in making my memories in P.S.B.B immortal:
Mrs. Girija Krishnamurthy, Mrs.Girija Dilip (L.kg), Mrs. Vijayalakshmi Raman (if at first I loved English, as time lapsed, she made me feel immensely passionate about it), Mrs. Hemalatha Seshadri, Mrs. Rama Arunachalam, Mrs.Mahalakshmi Ramjee and Mrs.Pushpa Vijayaraghavan.
As for my friends, Sruthi more popularly known as SVR, Kirthika, better still as Kirukkuthika, Pavi (though for a very short time), Janani, Radhika (my partner in crime for many years), Jane, Priya, Aishwarya and Dhanya.

Over the years, I have always been unhappy with certain things at school. Like any other school, it has its own flaws. However, at the risk of being called melodramatic, I'm proud to be a PSBBian. PSBB has not been just a school to me; it has been a way of life. The school has indeed given me a lot, something I am more conscious of after passing out of it than while I was with it.

YOU KNOW THAT YOUR EXAMS ARE AROUND THE CORNER WHEN :

1. You are rummaging desperately through a heaped up mess in your room trying to find a book- your TEXTBOOK.

2) You start thinking more kindly about the gal in the first row and her notes.


3) You drink coffee four times a day – a tad surprising as you abhor coffee.

4) The clock strikes 9 and you begin to feel sleepy.

5) You promise yourself that you will study well in advance the next time around.(are you nuts??)

6) You find the courage, patience and resolve to finally open your Xeroxed notes and you start yawning your head off.

7) Your parents tell you to take a break from studying.

8) It takes half an hour for one sentence to sink into your head.

9) You take a 1 hour break for half an hour of studying

10) You start telling yourself off for bunking 9 out of 10 classes.

11) Your friend finds you at her doorstep on Friday evening b’cos you want to take a copy of the exam notes from her as opposed to your normal reason which happens to be partying.

12) It’s a Friday and you are desperately studying without welcoming the weekend.

13) You remember for the first time after coming to college that pens and pencils exist and decide to grace the stationery shop with your exalted presence.

14) You start dreaming about a blank answer sheet and a red spotted report card- and you never, ever dream.

15) You promise yourself (very idiotically) that you will start studying for the very next exam during your semester holidays.

16) You read this post and groan cos you know that you agree with what you’re reading