A day of gifts for us whom she loves. Restoring friendship showing love cannot really end that's a good gift. Type II diabetes early signs of, have to work on that one. Denial is odd. I decided I would change my diet no more sugar sweet things etc. So I end up with six lightly buttered toasts on my coconut idli type powder thing, with curried beans and egg and lashings of tea. One of the nicer priests, Fr Johnson asked me if I was building something. After two toasts I was really full. So all I had to do was let my mind wander and lo I had almost finished the lot by the time I looked back down. Oh and I had one Indian sweet but that was for St Therese the Little's feast day. Ok not a great start. I think I'll try the ayurovedic medicine shop. That and some aspirin. And worse case even if it is type II diabetes I have some myth in my head that it takes twenty years to kill you untreated and when it gets obvious someone more grown up steps in.
Cold is slowing me down. I should really master the perfect tense. It's all very well being able to read but if you can't parse a sentence with certainty well that's not playing the game. After the perfect tense I should get a hang of declining the pronoun. But I am sure that reenforces the perfect tense.
I read in passing that glamour models are marching topless to something for our boys abroad. Now I know that will get many more hits than the Maira Paibli naked dignified protest against the gang rape and murder of yep that's it. Dignified. If the glamour models had gone for a dignified march then well it would no longer have any glamour and I should not be intrigued though intrigued is not the word. It's simple biology. We have a limited supply of blood for our body, when we eat more goes to digestion if we exercise aggressively we will throw up. When we have an erection it is not a good idea to try to think or reason either during or immediately after. This is scientific and once the science has been explained it makes perfect sense and not in a pre-feminist post-ironic Madonna is a Womanist trailblazer, and girl power exploits the exploiters way just oh that's it.
So I am pretty sure St Therese loves me and has given me many flowers over the years and their scents. I think it has something to do with my inventing a time machine travelling back to see her and only lifting her very gently tiny thing that she is from the carriage onto the platform I was only trying to help the Saint and then she gave me that look, and I thought success let's get out of here come back destroy the time machine and erase it from history lest some by some misguided attempt at goodness intervening evil prevails. Well yes so she will assist with Irom Sharmila Chanu but given her life and witness not sure if that's entirely the blessing I was after and this is the thing.
I am going to have to check out the topless glamour models marching on behalf of our boys in Afghanistan. I know they aren't marching on behalf of our boys in Afghanistan. I know they could be marching for better cat food. But why then. Because that's the thing with glamour, it's like sugar. I don't really ever want sugary things, I want something like that but that is filling and satisfying instead of cloying. I will have to analyze it more. Plus it made top ten news on Indian Yahoo under the Tsunami and the boat tragedy.
Two days ago the Shopian murder post mortem made news with the headline, one of the victims a virgin. Now that is the headline, it satisfies both the glamorous prurient interest, and for the more serious news reader suggests that they found no DNA of any soldiers to implicate. I suggested to Smt Sonia Gandhi in the letter I am sending off today that perhaps in the final report they will suggest that the women weren't murdered but are still alive.
That would be virgin on the ridiculous. I hope Sonia comes through and does inquire after the health of Sharmila Chanu. I shall withdraw now sub specie aeternitatis. Though I have a mission for the Canon Lawyers here. Just need to find one who is up for it and identify an appropriate chai panni for him.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
just when life was
I think I just had a simon and garfunkel moment and even if it isn't the first it's been a long while since the last. I just regained a friend. Not so much regained as realized I hadn't lost the friendship, wow on a high. And if I am wrong don't disabuse me with the truth.
I was going to curse and slander the mission priest but ah who cares. The kids won't be around for a week. I'll do my Syriac and avoid going with Father Jose to the CMI schools my heart is too small to love any more kids, and I've only brought 160 bars of chocolate, though I now have 150 books and 150 pens.
What else. Oh that Onil geezer raised an eyebrow at my sending book gifts to Sharmila Chanu via the hospital. She had said in the past they don't always pass things on to her. But I send them registered. The nice chappie at Indian Mail Service says I could send it speed when anyone could sign or registered when only the name on the address can sign. So I figure these are political acts, it's not that I want her to have a copy of the Little Prince or Sr Francoise's doll book. It's that I have receipts and they have to make a decision about what to do with the parcels as they arrive. I am in some ways making amends for the western capitalist ewil of the book club.
Call me a Syriac Scholar or call me a termite. I got a good feeling going on.
So tiny cold, but in good weather and even bad weather here is pretty good, the cold should clear. Yep thank you for that whoever you are. Is it only you who hides behind them all in the shadows my lover.
Now back to Syriac. Ask for anything today the vibes are good. Trust me I am a termite syriac scholar.
I was going to curse and slander the mission priest but ah who cares. The kids won't be around for a week. I'll do my Syriac and avoid going with Father Jose to the CMI schools my heart is too small to love any more kids, and I've only brought 160 bars of chocolate, though I now have 150 books and 150 pens.
What else. Oh that Onil geezer raised an eyebrow at my sending book gifts to Sharmila Chanu via the hospital. She had said in the past they don't always pass things on to her. But I send them registered. The nice chappie at Indian Mail Service says I could send it speed when anyone could sign or registered when only the name on the address can sign. So I figure these are political acts, it's not that I want her to have a copy of the Little Prince or Sr Francoise's doll book. It's that I have receipts and they have to make a decision about what to do with the parcels as they arrive. I am in some ways making amends for the western capitalist ewil of the book club.
Call me a Syriac Scholar or call me a termite. I got a good feeling going on.
So tiny cold, but in good weather and even bad weather here is pretty good, the cold should clear. Yep thank you for that whoever you are. Is it only you who hides behind them all in the shadows my lover.
Now back to Syriac. Ask for anything today the vibes are good. Trust me I am a termite syriac scholar.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
something political
I haven't really given much local news since I got carried away with Sharmila Chanu. About four months ago an ordinary labourer who was recently married and was looking after his younger sister as part of a small family he came home one evening nobody there. It's called the Shopian case her. His wife and 17yr old sister had been gang raped and murdered their bodies dumped in a river. I am certain the Security Forces have never relied on the AF(SP)A in this case. There have been two investigations. In the first one the DNA reports were forged, then the case was transferred to another police force. I think this is the third attempt at an investigation. It is widely believed that the local security forces were out on another jolly and they consider this as a perk of their otherwise hard work of keeping down insurgents. This is in J&K which is another nightmare land. It would have been one of the most beautiful places in India to visit I assume it's one of the restricted areas where foreigners aren't allowed anyway. And even if I get OCI I have no interest in visiting J&K. T
hey are making a lot of the fact that this time they haven't faked the DNA tests. The women were gang raped and murdered. I assume since the security forces were convinced that there never would be an investigation, and they left their DNA behind, and they know which officers were there at the time, no but now I am being a silly western superficial problem solver who doesn't appreciate the multi-levelled paratagmatic layers of postmodern neo-colonial, yeah.
Well it's not as if any police officer would get done for something that serious in England. I am not suggesting that they would, but they would have destroyed the evidence and not just dumped the bodies in the nearest stream. That's my point I think. That and they really don't get up to such bad behaviour as regularly as the Indian police, paramilitaries and security forces and their friends who get invited on outings. There is a difference. I almost feel tempted to burst into God save the Queen and Rule Britannia, or perhaps Jerusalem. But they are touchy about that sort of thing in the Library.
hey are making a lot of the fact that this time they haven't faked the DNA tests. The women were gang raped and murdered. I assume since the security forces were convinced that there never would be an investigation, and they left their DNA behind, and they know which officers were there at the time, no but now I am being a silly western superficial problem solver who doesn't appreciate the multi-levelled paratagmatic layers of postmodern neo-colonial, yeah.
Well it's not as if any police officer would get done for something that serious in England. I am not suggesting that they would, but they would have destroyed the evidence and not just dumped the bodies in the nearest stream. That's my point I think. That and they really don't get up to such bad behaviour as regularly as the Indian police, paramilitaries and security forces and their friends who get invited on outings. There is a difference. I almost feel tempted to burst into God save the Queen and Rule Britannia, or perhaps Jerusalem. But they are touchy about that sort of thing in the Library.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Feast of the ArchAngels
Have you noticed some days a priest's homily is like a stand-up routine at a working men's club only there so the strippers can get changed into their next outfit. The secular priest can't really believe that we would all be informed and entertained by his soliluquy on the meaning of names, I should rather have listened to the unforgettable multi-media presentation, boiler rooms I have known. Anyway prayed for She and eventually the Christ turned up. These Roman Rite peeps would try the patience of a very impatient person.
Take the Syro-Malankara rite. Now that's a magicko religious rite. At one stage you are surrounded by gusts of incense, bells are going off, the Grail Knights in a semi-circle around the altar, are widdling their hands in mysterious ways (and we are all facing the same way none of this novus ordo nonsense). If I were an Angel and I'd have preferred a homily on Angels even to Boiler Rooms I have loved the Sequel, I'd be scrambling around screaming are we under attack, who set off all the alarms, where's all that smoke coming from, M'aidez, m'aidez. That's how to prepare for a visitation of the Christ.
Tridentinists feel that the modern western rite was conjured by Satan to disrespect the real presence in the Eucharist and is part of Modernity's plan of mini-skirts, adultery, fornication and why do I never get invited to dem parties. (The last bit was me not the). Liturgists argue that it's a bit like a Shakespeare play but one translated into Chinese in the 16th century. We end up five hundred years later with a Mandarin text full of transcription errors, all the stage directions have now become speeches, the asides have become stage directions, and every now and then we get meaningless sections resembling anecdotes told by a Director to his side-kick from the 18th century and Car 54 where are you need a pick-up to Heathrow Stat. They have both points to consider. You can't negotiate with a Liturgist and the neo-tridentinists are always in search of a good witch burning. So thank God I tells ya that you don't really understand the basic principles because if you did and you had any sanity, job to do, or anything at all you would not give a flying tackle for the issues.
Back to Syro-Malankara, which is a more authentic version than the Syro-Malabar who run south India. Our one Syro-Malankara priest got quite agitated about the discrimination with his peers at table a few days back he only stopped going on about well why do we get just a balcony for our Archbishop then when I commented about plus ca change, people are bigots the world over, and then he switched to Malayalam and more calmly. I lasted two hours at the Syro-Malankara service but that included prayers for the dead if I had lasted another hour I could have taken breakfast with them but the flesh is weak. And for the record, this is official teaching, no you cannot just wander in and out of an Eastern Rite service because they go on for hours, so you are allowed to pop in for five minutes swish your hands about in the wrong direction and then go off on your rounds. Admittedly mediterranean Caflicks have sex with their friends during the week, boast about it to the priest on Sunday at confession and then carry on next week. That too is not Western Rite teaching. I hope I have cleared this up now. The Eastern Rite service is like any magicko-religious act, you form a magick circle and anyone who breaks the circle invites demonic possession, death, damnation and the only reason it doesn't affect Western Eastern Ritists is that they were probably going to Hell anyway so it doesn't matter that they blaspheme so by popping in for five minutes to check how the service was doing, it's not like checking on a roasting chicken. In fact if we had to use culinary metaphors it would be more like checking on a souflee.
The Archbishop was presiding and by Archbishop I mean the Head of the Syro-Malankara Rite. I think they copy Rome too much. Choir is a distraction just draws away from the magick. Although some damn fine wimin they have there another type of sari completely. Kerala white with gold stripe and oh yes the service. Now I don't mean this in a simplistic peasant caflick neo-Tridentinist way. I am a highly twained liturgist. The eastern rite are not supposed to have full conscious active participation in oh let's go to a football match and have a sing-song eh lads, way of the West. Yeah Yeah it's not like that right. The Archbishop rightly sat out the communion. There would have been a stampede past the junior priests and archdeacons for him and I'd have been at the head of the Maul.
So I am up to 55 books for the Lambadis. Just need 95 more I am hoping for a serialization of the Ramayana which I think is going reduced for 1k rupees but if it's 50 books it's a steal. If it's 30 I'll still take it. Less than that and we have the classic nightmare scenario. I'll skip the whiskey for the priest. I'll give him cash. It's gonna be a heavy bag. Not sure what else to tell ya. I miss my mother. The world will end and I have a way that I can live until it does.
Oh but I managed the first 17 verses of Matthew in Syriac the original language. I am pressing ahead with the reading skill. Also stepping back from time to time to crossword solve, parse words from the text. This I can do. John the Just returns to India on October 5 but as I am travelling to Nellikuduru probably won't catch up with him until at least I make Pondicherry. I hope he is nice to me that priest when I reach the Prema Seva Ashram. I don't wish to sound fickle or disloyal but if he is not nice to me then I will not return. It's not love that I do for I will think on them wish them well, buy pressies, campaign with the OIAHE for their long term security, but I can drop them from my heart in a heartbeat and think on them no more. Maya is frighteningly powerful because of its unreality. I am sure Love is not like the thing I do.
Take the Syro-Malankara rite. Now that's a magicko religious rite. At one stage you are surrounded by gusts of incense, bells are going off, the Grail Knights in a semi-circle around the altar, are widdling their hands in mysterious ways (and we are all facing the same way none of this novus ordo nonsense). If I were an Angel and I'd have preferred a homily on Angels even to Boiler Rooms I have loved the Sequel, I'd be scrambling around screaming are we under attack, who set off all the alarms, where's all that smoke coming from, M'aidez, m'aidez. That's how to prepare for a visitation of the Christ.
Tridentinists feel that the modern western rite was conjured by Satan to disrespect the real presence in the Eucharist and is part of Modernity's plan of mini-skirts, adultery, fornication and why do I never get invited to dem parties. (The last bit was me not the). Liturgists argue that it's a bit like a Shakespeare play but one translated into Chinese in the 16th century. We end up five hundred years later with a Mandarin text full of transcription errors, all the stage directions have now become speeches, the asides have become stage directions, and every now and then we get meaningless sections resembling anecdotes told by a Director to his side-kick from the 18th century and Car 54 where are you need a pick-up to Heathrow Stat. They have both points to consider. You can't negotiate with a Liturgist and the neo-tridentinists are always in search of a good witch burning. So thank God I tells ya that you don't really understand the basic principles because if you did and you had any sanity, job to do, or anything at all you would not give a flying tackle for the issues.
Back to Syro-Malankara, which is a more authentic version than the Syro-Malabar who run south India. Our one Syro-Malankara priest got quite agitated about the discrimination with his peers at table a few days back he only stopped going on about well why do we get just a balcony for our Archbishop then when I commented about plus ca change, people are bigots the world over, and then he switched to Malayalam and more calmly. I lasted two hours at the Syro-Malankara service but that included prayers for the dead if I had lasted another hour I could have taken breakfast with them but the flesh is weak. And for the record, this is official teaching, no you cannot just wander in and out of an Eastern Rite service because they go on for hours, so you are allowed to pop in for five minutes swish your hands about in the wrong direction and then go off on your rounds. Admittedly mediterranean Caflicks have sex with their friends during the week, boast about it to the priest on Sunday at confession and then carry on next week. That too is not Western Rite teaching. I hope I have cleared this up now. The Eastern Rite service is like any magicko-religious act, you form a magick circle and anyone who breaks the circle invites demonic possession, death, damnation and the only reason it doesn't affect Western Eastern Ritists is that they were probably going to Hell anyway so it doesn't matter that they blaspheme so by popping in for five minutes to check how the service was doing, it's not like checking on a roasting chicken. In fact if we had to use culinary metaphors it would be more like checking on a souflee.
The Archbishop was presiding and by Archbishop I mean the Head of the Syro-Malankara Rite. I think they copy Rome too much. Choir is a distraction just draws away from the magick. Although some damn fine wimin they have there another type of sari completely. Kerala white with gold stripe and oh yes the service. Now I don't mean this in a simplistic peasant caflick neo-Tridentinist way. I am a highly twained liturgist. The eastern rite are not supposed to have full conscious active participation in oh let's go to a football match and have a sing-song eh lads, way of the West. Yeah Yeah it's not like that right. The Archbishop rightly sat out the communion. There would have been a stampede past the junior priests and archdeacons for him and I'd have been at the head of the Maul.
So I am up to 55 books for the Lambadis. Just need 95 more I am hoping for a serialization of the Ramayana which I think is going reduced for 1k rupees but if it's 50 books it's a steal. If it's 30 I'll still take it. Less than that and we have the classic nightmare scenario. I'll skip the whiskey for the priest. I'll give him cash. It's gonna be a heavy bag. Not sure what else to tell ya. I miss my mother. The world will end and I have a way that I can live until it does.
Oh but I managed the first 17 verses of Matthew in Syriac the original language. I am pressing ahead with the reading skill. Also stepping back from time to time to crossword solve, parse words from the text. This I can do. John the Just returns to India on October 5 but as I am travelling to Nellikuduru probably won't catch up with him until at least I make Pondicherry. I hope he is nice to me that priest when I reach the Prema Seva Ashram. I don't wish to sound fickle or disloyal but if he is not nice to me then I will not return. It's not love that I do for I will think on them wish them well, buy pressies, campaign with the OIAHE for their long term security, but I can drop them from my heart in a heartbeat and think on them no more. Maya is frighteningly powerful because of its unreality. I am sure Love is not like the thing I do.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
She sleeps and dreams and life must go on
She is inspiring. I am not completely insane. And she is beautiful and repulsive something of the Divine about her then for sure. One of the human rights bods contacted me when I sent one of the email petitions to the Indian President and various officials on Sharmila Chanu's behalf. He said they had tried suggesting the whole Bobbie Sands be a national heroine route but she is very stubborn and trusts in Yoga and Spirituality. What can you do eh. I am certain she is the real McCoy. And if she isn't then neither is McCoy and she still has my unreserved confiance.
He also said it isn't a good idea to send parcels to the Government Prison Hospital address. I think the policy against her is more one of pettiness. They didn't allow Thomas Moore his Bible or Breviary. I am not even sure if it is to break the spirit. I have asked him for an alternate address and you never know. All it takes is for one guard or nurse to break through to the humanity and they may even allow flowers in her room.
So onwards and upwards. I got a deal on 12gm chocolates by Cadbury's from the local Spa shop. I never know how to react over cost here. So when the sales assistant said but sir each one is 40 rupees I just stared blankly. I don't want to patronize them or sound as if I am loaded. To her credit if they were that expensive I'd have forked out 80 quid on chocolates for 150 Tribals and I could probably have bought at least half a dozen tribals for that price. Thankfully she was wrong. They were about 13 rupees each (forty units per box 4 boxes) which still adds up but I fully intend to be favourite Uncle-ji. My fear is that they will not want me there. I have this thing about rejection. I now have 150 blue pens (2 rupees each really got a deal with those). 160 Cadbury's chocs and what sold them to me was as I was glancing through the types some fat brahmin kid (nice enough) starts screaming to his parents mummie mummie I want those. Milk chocolate base with white chocolate tops I think they are called something else in Blightey and are for adults not for kiddies. Although I haven't figured out what I should do instead of giving them many clips around the earhole when they start their incessant pisa please pisa please. But for one week anyone can practise Ahimsa.
I also have 13 books all on sale but for a decent book it's anything from 30-50 rupees. But it's a symbol of education. The barbie doll plan may have to be mothballed. Sunday week I travel to the Prema Seva Ashram and I'll see how much it has changed. We will have lost a few of the kids. But he has pushed them up to full strength 150 he told me at last count. But he is an awful liar.
I hope I am welcomed there. I think I stayed too long last time. A week to ten days will be a treat for us all. Plus I'll get the Paul Father a bottle of single malt. If Jameson's is not too expensive that'll keep him sweet for a week. I do not mock but my mother was very right about these things and people who go on about modern professionalism and duty really have far less an understanding of human nature and society than my mother.
On that still managed to get a little irritated with one of the priests I have never really liked here. Father Dixon I think his name is but who cares. He decided it would be a good idea for me to take out all the priests for a meal before I go just to celebrate. Then he narrowed it down to just our table of four. So I nod away as any Indian should until one priest said are you serious about this Desmond. Of course not father I should not tempt you away from your lives of holy poverty etc. Then Dixon started going on about how miserly I am. Priests here can be more embarrassing than even the Monsignors back home.
I am pressing ahead with the Syriac. For now I am pushing for fluency in reading. I thought I'd be gentle with the actual memorizing of declensions and conjugations. A bit each day every few hours. The MA should be a push-over. If I don't get OCI or even if I do I think there are places that still speak Syriac. Isolated Christian communities in the middle east. It would be nice to spend a few months with one of those studying in the round before pursuing a Doctorate after the Masters of course. It does not do to plan only if I full expect things to go according to plan and why would I expect that.
Main problem for now is keeping the weight of the books down, and gently easing into the ardhpadma asana. One likes to keep some connections with the ghost sister. Jai Ho. Jai Bhim.
He also said it isn't a good idea to send parcels to the Government Prison Hospital address. I think the policy against her is more one of pettiness. They didn't allow Thomas Moore his Bible or Breviary. I am not even sure if it is to break the spirit. I have asked him for an alternate address and you never know. All it takes is for one guard or nurse to break through to the humanity and they may even allow flowers in her room.
So onwards and upwards. I got a deal on 12gm chocolates by Cadbury's from the local Spa shop. I never know how to react over cost here. So when the sales assistant said but sir each one is 40 rupees I just stared blankly. I don't want to patronize them or sound as if I am loaded. To her credit if they were that expensive I'd have forked out 80 quid on chocolates for 150 Tribals and I could probably have bought at least half a dozen tribals for that price. Thankfully she was wrong. They were about 13 rupees each (forty units per box 4 boxes) which still adds up but I fully intend to be favourite Uncle-ji. My fear is that they will not want me there. I have this thing about rejection. I now have 150 blue pens (2 rupees each really got a deal with those). 160 Cadbury's chocs and what sold them to me was as I was glancing through the types some fat brahmin kid (nice enough) starts screaming to his parents mummie mummie I want those. Milk chocolate base with white chocolate tops I think they are called something else in Blightey and are for adults not for kiddies. Although I haven't figured out what I should do instead of giving them many clips around the earhole when they start their incessant pisa please pisa please. But for one week anyone can practise Ahimsa.
I also have 13 books all on sale but for a decent book it's anything from 30-50 rupees. But it's a symbol of education. The barbie doll plan may have to be mothballed. Sunday week I travel to the Prema Seva Ashram and I'll see how much it has changed. We will have lost a few of the kids. But he has pushed them up to full strength 150 he told me at last count. But he is an awful liar.
I hope I am welcomed there. I think I stayed too long last time. A week to ten days will be a treat for us all. Plus I'll get the Paul Father a bottle of single malt. If Jameson's is not too expensive that'll keep him sweet for a week. I do not mock but my mother was very right about these things and people who go on about modern professionalism and duty really have far less an understanding of human nature and society than my mother.
On that still managed to get a little irritated with one of the priests I have never really liked here. Father Dixon I think his name is but who cares. He decided it would be a good idea for me to take out all the priests for a meal before I go just to celebrate. Then he narrowed it down to just our table of four. So I nod away as any Indian should until one priest said are you serious about this Desmond. Of course not father I should not tempt you away from your lives of holy poverty etc. Then Dixon started going on about how miserly I am. Priests here can be more embarrassing than even the Monsignors back home.
I am pressing ahead with the Syriac. For now I am pushing for fluency in reading. I thought I'd be gentle with the actual memorizing of declensions and conjugations. A bit each day every few hours. The MA should be a push-over. If I don't get OCI or even if I do I think there are places that still speak Syriac. Isolated Christian communities in the middle east. It would be nice to spend a few months with one of those studying in the round before pursuing a Doctorate after the Masters of course. It does not do to plan only if I full expect things to go according to plan and why would I expect that.
Main problem for now is keeping the weight of the books down, and gently easing into the ardhpadma asana. One likes to keep some connections with the ghost sister. Jai Ho. Jai Bhim.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I had this insight into Bobbie sands but best stick to syriac eh
A comparison between the British and Indian responses to insurgency: A Reflection on an Irom Sharmila Chanu Herstory
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But on the plus side, a pretty young thing, very docile, unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course the same HM would say, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."
So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.
The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. They would object to the tag of nominal Christian. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social and religious lines formed of dichotomous groupings such as travellers and settled, agricultural and IT workers, Catholics and Protestants, who prefer an apartheid based existence.
Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness. As it is clear where I wish to go with this.
When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).
When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.
I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.
The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why, because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save taking pleasure from life. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and “bending the knee before insolent might,” one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.
Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.
What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left until the British Patrols returned. The prophecy of Jim Calaghan then Home Secretary to an Irish Catholic leader was that they could bring troops in very quickly but getting them out would be a devil of a job rang true. The Israelites could have wandered in the desert and still had time to take their seats for the troops withdrawal from Ulster.
Even positive evil is not as obscene as that cast by the shadow of pure goodness. Originally the men would say the “tarring and feathering” was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on. And Women were created to bleed.
Can you play a game outwith knowing all the rules? Can you comment on current events outwith knowing all the relevant history? I haven’t mentioned the Corn Laws, or the Famine, the campaign for the disestablishment of the Church of Ireland, absent Landlords, Cromwell. Nobody likes badmouthing their own. An Indian Woman will proudly attack Indian men’s conduct over many issues affecting them until a foreigner enters the room. Perhaps there is more to fear in White neo-Colonial racism and exploitation than in the incestuous rape and murder of your own.
Manipur once was a proud independent princely state. An omphalos of fertile valley protected by nine Hills, one being especially sacred to Mother Earth. A paradigm of India its description sounds too beautiful not to be mere fairy tale. And what goes on sounds more frightening than the surreal nightmares of pychosis. As the British East India Company gradually began to forge together the disparate proud independent States we now refer to as the Republic of India it was necessary to curb their independence. Free men, Free women will not be ruled. During British rule new migrants came mainly Muslim, the divisions between the minority Hill tribes and the Majority Valley Tribe were encouraged. Too much can be made of this. Human beings are like crabs in a bucket. We would rather bring our neighbour down with us then let anyone escape to freedom. The heritage of colonialism was in part the gradual reduction of an independent economy to one designed to provide resources for a Colonial Empire far far away. After Independence the model was maintained by New Delhi possibly just through bureacratic inertia. Although Crores have been spent notionally on Development, and many have become multi-millionaires through it, the colonialization of Manipur begun under the British has been consummated under Indian Republic Rule.
I mention this solely as part background. Economics can be as complex as History if you so choose. In simple terms there is no self-sustaining economy. If you see a new house being built in Imphal it belongs either to an insurgent or an NGO. The three largest industries world-wide are the Arms Trade, Drugs and People Trafficking. Manipur does not appear to have any other industry aside from symbolic residual tokens. Apart from bogstandard terrorism spread by small arms and explosives, the other main curse of Manipur is the Drug culture. A statistical comparison among Vietnam Veterans may be relevant. While in active combat 85% of American Forces regularly used illegal drugs. On their return this figure dropped to about 5% in the minority who never fully recovered from their experiences.
Often Indians dismiss our problems as being just of poverty, something in which the whole world shares. As if by proving that we have ordinary human problems we can be absolved from responsibility. The role of women in Manipur and India is another of the great contradictions. All human society at one level is Matriarchal. Men tend to shout shoot and confuse movement with action, though sometimes in our defence action requires some movement. But if you want to change any family, community or society. A suggestion offered by Homer in his Oddyssey remains valid. First approach the woman who is most important in this land.
The indigenous religion of Manipur is what the Catholic Church calls Animist. The women practice a form of Shamanry, through dance and chanting. During the days of the Raj the regional King introduced Hindu Vaishnavism as the State approved Religion. A syncretic form is practised now with Christians prevalent among the Hill Tribes and Hindus and Shamanry in the Valley. The women have a tradition of their own family courts. They maintain a tradition of quiet brave satyagraha, not completely with ahimsa. The weaving staves are also often used as a weapon by the women though it seems to be more the effect of burly men being beaten back by a loaded handbag. All but the most hardened drug crazed rapists back down before someone who reminds them of their mother.
Thangjam Manorama Devi was raped tortured and murdered by officers of the 17th Assam Rifles on 11 July 2004. Their version is that they interrogated a suspect as was their right under the Armed Forces Special Provisions Act which operates in Manipur and the North Eastern States of India. In response twelve Meira Paibi (women elders) stripped in front of Kangla Fort until recently the barracks of the Assam Rifles chanting with dignity and outwith hatred to the brave soldiers of the Republic of India what I would fear to say. It’s a story which if I had read about 1st century apostles acting spirit filled speaking the gospel truth to those in authority fearless to the consequences I would assume that this was a later exaggerated redaction because human beings are not capable of such bravery.
And on a human level too I sympathize with a young business type trying to impress the equivalent of the Rotarian Club with his new business plan going into shock when instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of these local women he realizes that one of them is his mother. What were you thinking. I had to pretend I had no idea who you were and that this sort of thing never usually goes on around here we are a very civilized people. Oh and what’s for dinner I am starving. But she is an Indian Amma just released from prison on police bail charged with acts of public indecency. She has prepared his favourite dish for dinner. Did he really need to ask. If you want to know did the campaign work then you misunderstand me. The Meira Paibi responded in a non-violent protest and they will continue to respond non-violently until God hears the cry of Her people. I chose to compare the British and Indian treatment of insurgency to reassure Indians that I have not come to judge from a height. I am pleading on my knees.
There is a superficial comparison with the actions of Lady Godiva who rode through mediaeval coventry naked on horseback to shame her husband into withdrawing an unfair Poll Tax on the poor. But it seems to me the legend is lost now in Romanticism and a brand of luxury chocolates. There is something natural simple and womanly in these desperate noble and quiet acts of ordinary women, a way of reclaiming humanity and humanness in a world when daily we lose ourselves and forget who we are, who we are to become.
I will give a potted history of the AF(SP)A as it is the reason she whom my soul loveth suffers. In 1942 the world was at war with the original Axis powers of unmitigated Fascist Evil. If the Allies had lost that war then Indians would not have the luxury of complaining about what the British did or didn’t do. If there were any Indians left they would merely explain it all as the Yuga of Kali. When war first broke out 100,000 Anzac troops landed in Singapore as the first line of defence against Japan. Within two days they were given the choice of surrendering or being bombed to death so the British Commander gave the order for unconditional surrender. Burma borders Manipur and it was where the Japanese advance was eventually halted by the Indian Army. I will continue to call the nation Burma until the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi. The current Government has no legitimacy even to change the country’s name.
Thus to quell insurgency in Manipur the British having founded the paramilitary force of the Assam Rifles declared emergency legislation which allowed for an officer of at least the rank of Captain having given a written order to allow his men to shoot to kill in order to maintain order. The written order meant someone could in theory be held to account. The current law and these types of laws are always brought in as temporary measures was passed in 1958 and allows any soldier to detain, arrest, question or kill suspected insurgents on the grounds of suspicion alone. I am not arguing that a sane healthy society does not from time to time produce laws like this against it’s own citizens. I am asking for the people of India to change this law so that Irom Sharmila Chanu can end her indefinite fast. Because the world needs more lights. We cannot keep murdering our prophets and prophetesses.
It was the senseless killings at Enniskillen that the Irish sickened of their madness and enemies finally came to the table. Nobody needs to plan for prosperity. The Irish brought their own once the guns were taken away, and the violence ended. There were peace protestors and often Women Groups who led the way. The British experimented with Internment in Ireland in the 1960s but they gave it up as counter-productive. They tried shorter periods of detention outwith trial but these were ruled illegal under Habeas Corpus rights. Only a few years ago the detention of suspected Muslim terrorists at HMP Belmarsh in London for then over two years outwith informing them of the offences against them on the grounds it would harm national security was ruled illegal by the House of Lords.
It was the murder of ten people in a bus queue in Malom that sealed Sharmila Chanu’s resolve. Just before terrorists exploded a bomb killing officers of the Assam Rifles. Since they didn't know who was responsible they decided to shoot the first people they came across, a modern version of an ancient fairy tale, whether of Jepthah's daughter or Beauty and the Beast.
Since 2 November 2000 Sharmila Chanu has been repeatedly arrested and detained under a mental health act on the grounds that she is attempting suicide. I am not clear why the Indian Government never charged Ghandi-ji with this particular law. That is a question Indian Government ministers can better answer for themselves. Since then she has been kept in quasi solitary confinement. The Indian State is clearly not evil nor is it deliberately pursuing evil for the joy of hurting and abusing its own people. They have on the statute books a draconian law that would shame any democracy where democratic values were held in esteem. They have a woman whom they don’t want to die while she is in their care who insists on Satyagraha.
Quite a quandary it would seem. The most intelligent and talented men and women in all India, many with multiple doctorates and yet they can see no way out of this paralysing dillemma. If they were to repeal the AF(SP)A then their security forces would be accountable if they raped and murdered their own citizens outwith any reason. I don’t wish to oversatyrize what many Indians probably unfairly believe of their own security forces and police but the AF(SP)A doesn’t exist in most of the country but this has never stopped anyone from raping and murdering a tribal if they really wish to do so. Quite a difficult thorny enigma then, and I hope I have not belittled the quandary that the men and women who govern the largest democracy in the world have to consider.
Yet if I have assuaged the need for critical comment. Have you not been entertained as the Gladiator put it. May I respectfully suggest that the problem is not as insurmountable as our Politicians would have it. On 2 November 2000, Irom Sharmila touched the foot of her mother and asked her permission to follow her bounden duty as far as she had been given light to see. With the permission of her mother and her immediate family members granted she announced that she would begin an indefinite fast until the Armed Forces Special Provision Act was repealed. She had always been a thoughtful young woman. She had spent some time working for a UN field team investigating human rights abuses. She had begun then the daily practice of Yoga and was already used to fasting once a week as part of the Ayamas. Because she does not seek death, because she loves life, she consented to the painful procedure of force feeding. But she refuses to brush her teeth except with a cotton bud, to comb her hair or wear sandals. She reads voraciously but does not keep books. And she writes mystic poetry when she is full. When she is empty she rests in solitary confinement and practises her yogasanas. There is no point in asking an expert how much longer she might live. No one knew until she began her fast that anyone could survive this long even with force feeding via a nasal tube to her stomach. Her body has deteriorated but not as might have been predicted. She attributes her continued life to her daily yogasanas and western medicine offers no counter-theory for her survival.
There is an interesting parallel in the functioning of our autonomous functions and our security forces. When the body enters famine mode, the body starts to prioritize functions and consume what is not essential. In Sharmila Chanu's case among the more commonly reported consequences are Brittle bones and Amenorrhoea. My heart and soul have different priorities to my body. What it thinks is dispensable I would argue with if I had the choice. Just as with our Security forces. The Gospel of Christ has taught us that it is never better for one person to suffer than for the whole nation to perish.
In conversations with a priest friend he had said that a true prophet always inspires love, and brings life in more abundance. Rather than focus on the physical damage being waged as symbol in this woman’s body it struck me that she does inspire. I have no doubt that she will not die under hunger strike even though there is no evidence that anything will change in Manipur or New Delhi. I also am fascinated waiting to see how she will bring about changes economic and social, bring true peace to Manipur. And not alone as part of the Meira Paibi tradition, those women who carried torches as the nightwatch and would shame their men into living better lives. And I know that the problems of Manipur will not be solved by visiting NGOs. They clearly seem to thrive on the problems. It is impossible to do justice to the herstory of Irom Sharmila Chanu, in English that would translate to something like Lady Sharmila Irom but translation is fraught even for one who boasts that he is a budding Syriac Scholar. Writing unlike life is about re-writing re-phrasing until the imperfections no longer detract from the story that wants to be written. Writing unlike life is always a rehearsal. For now you may write to her directly at: Irom Sharmila Chanu Security WardJawaharlal Nehru HospitalPorompat Imphal – 795001Manipur.
There is one remaining parallel to consider from the British involvement with insurgents. In the 1970s IRA prisoners went on an indefinite hunger strike in order to secure political prisoner status. Bobbie Sands a convicted murderer, stood for election in a Catholic Constituency of Northern Ireland while on Hunger Strike and was elected by the will of the people. There are comparisons I draw reluctantly. Thatcher's government was advised force feeding the prisoners especially if they resisted and needed to be strapped down would amount to cruel and inhuman punishment and possibly a crime against humanity. The IRA prisoners wanted their rapists, their murderers, their punishment squads to be redefined as political prisoners. I still believe that they were entitled to their political beliefs, but a cake is a cake whichever way you slice it. I hope you do not find me guilty of hypocrisy in this.
Irom Sharmila Chanu has sacrificed nine year of fasting one for each of the nine hills guarding Manipur. She gives daily permission to nasal tube feeding if she declines permission the feeding will stop and she will die. If she were to stand for the next available election as an MLA for Manipur could she not then continue to symbolize the struggle for freedom in Manipur in her body in hope and resurrection. It would be impossible to predict her. As was once said of a maverick British Officer his men would follow him anywhere, if only out of curiosity. She used to ride her bicycle and listen to the plaints of her people. As an MLA she could do so again and represent the voiceless.
I know both that even if we burn all earth's flowers that the Spring shall still come. And I know that our Redeemer liveth and will raise us up before the end. But she, my ghost sister, the sleeping beauty of the northern states I know I cannot help I cannot save and I must. If only she were not a woman she might be easier to persuade.
She is on collision course towards a rock, and perhaps I am suggesting only that she make a course correction towards an iceburg. For now Manipur has only symbols. In the Name of the Christ of God whom we love and serve, will you not join with me in asking her now for a symbol of hope and new life.
Enough I must away to my Syriac Studies Dennis has written so it's a sign
I am all set now for my return to the Lambadis. I think I'll get a selection of chocs from Spar. It's manageable. 150. I have 150 pens. 13 books. I'll need to get to 150. I don't think I'll get the Barbie doll maybe for Xmas. It's gonna be heavy. Just so long as the priest don't treat me bad. And I figure I am staying for ten days why would he treat me bad. I know it's all far too Ally McBeal I think the article is done now and I am pretty sure Fr Jose won't mention it again. They never publish no matter how much they say they like my writing style.
A comparison between the British and Indian responses to insurgency: An Irom Sharmila Chanu Herstory
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But on the plus side, a pretty young thing, very docile, unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course the same HM would say, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."
So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.
The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social and religious lines formed of dichotomous groupings such as travellers and settled, agricultural and IT workers, Catholics and Protestants, who prefer an apartheid based existence.
Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness. As it is clear where I wish to go with this.
When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).
When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.
I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.
The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save taking pleasure from life. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and “bending the knee before insolent might,” one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.
Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.
What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left until the British Patrols returned. Jim Calaghan was the foreign secretary who ordered the Troops into Ireland in the 1960s at the request of the Catholic leadership because outwith the troops they would have had no protection then. Even positive evil is not as obscene as that cast by the shadow of pure goodness. Originally the men would say the “tarring and feathering” was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on. And Women were created to bleed.
Can you play a game outwith knowing all the rules? Can you comment on current events outwith knowing all the relevant history? I haven’t mentioned the Corn Laws, or the Famine, the campaign for the disestablishment of the Church of Ireland, absent Landlords, Cromwell. Nobody likes badmouthing their own. An Indian Woman will proudly attack Indian men’s conduct over many issues affecting them until a foreigner enters the room. Perhaps there is more to fear in White neo-Colonial racism and exploitation than in the incestuous rape and murder of your own.
Manipur once was a proud independent princely state. An omphalos of fertile valley protected by nine Hills, one being especially sacred to Mother Earth. A paradigm of India its description sounds too beautiful not to be mere fairy tale. And what goes on sounds more frightening than the surreal nightmares of pychosis. As the British East India Company gradually began to forge together the disparate proud independent States we now refer to as the Republic of India it was necessary to curb their independence. Free men, Free women will not be ruled. During British rule new migrants came mainly Muslim, the divisions between the minority Hill tribes and the Majority Valley Tribe were encouraged. Too much can be made of this. Human beings are like crabs in a bucket. We would rather bring our neighbour down with us then let anyone escape to freedom.
The heritage of colonialism was in part the gradual reduction of an independent economy to one designed to provide resources for a Colonial Empire far far away. After Independence the model was maintained by New Delhi. Although Crores have been spent notionally on Development, and many have become multi-millionaires through it, the colonialization of Manipur begun under the British has been consummated under Indian Republic Rule. I mention this solely as part background. Economics can be as complex as History if you so choose. In simple terms there is no self-sustaining economy. If you see a new house being built in Imphal it belongs either to an insurgent or an NGO.
The three largest industries world-wide are the Arms Trade, Drugs and People Trafficking. Manipur does not appear to have any other industry aside from symbolic residual tokens. Apart from vanilla terrorism spread by small arms and explosives, the other main curse of Manipur is the Drug culture. A statistical comparison among Vietnam Veterans may be relevant. While in active combat 85% of American Forces regularly used illegal drugs. On their return this figure dropped to about 5% in the minority who never fully recovered from their experiences. Often Indians dismiss our problems as being just of poverty, something in which the whole world shares. As if by proving that we have ordinary human problems we can be absolved from responsibility
The role of women in Manipur and India is another of the great contradictions. All human society at one level is Matriarchal. Men tend to shout shoot and confuse movement with action, though sometimes in our defence action requires some movement. But if you want to change any family, community or society. A suggestion offered by Homer in his Oddyssey remains valid. First approach the woman who is most important in this land.
The indigenous religion of Manipur is what the Catholic Church calls Animist. The women practice a form of Shamanry, through dance and chanting. During the days of the Raj a King introduced Hindu Vaishnavism as the State approved Religion. A syncretic form is practised now with Christians prevalent among the Hill Tribes and Hindus and Shamanry in the Valley. The women have a tradition of their own family courts. They maintain a tradition of quiet brave satyagraha, not completely with ahimsa. The weaving staves are also often used as a weapon by the women though it seems to be more the effect of burly men being beaten back by a loaded handbag. All but the most hardened drug crazed rapists back down before someone who reminds them of their mother.
Thangjam Manorama Devi was raped tortured and murdered by officers of the 17th Assam Rifles on 11 July 2004. Their version is that they interrogated a suspect as was their right under the Armed Forces Special Provisions Act which operates in Manipur and the North Eastern States of India. In response twelve Meira Paibi (women elders) stripped in front of Kangla Fort until recently the barracks of the Assam Rifles chanting with dignity and outwith hatred to the brave soldiers of the Republic of India what I would fear to say. It’s a story which if I had read about 1st century apostles acting spirit filled speaking the gospel truth to those in authority fearless to the consequences I would assume that this was a later exaggerated redaction because human beings are not capable of such bravery.
And on a human level too I sympathize with a young business type trying to impress the equivalent of the Rotarian Club with his new business plan going into shock when instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of these local women he realizes that one of them is his mother. What were you thinking. I had to pretend I had no idea who you were and that this sort of thing never usually goes on around here we are a very civilized people. Oh and what’s for dinner I am starving. But she is an Indian Amma just released from prison on police bail charged with acts of public indecency. She has prepared his favourite dish for dinner. Did he really need to ask. If you want to know did the campaign work then you misunderstand me. The Meira Paibi responded in a non-violent protest and they will continue to respond non-violently until God hears the cry of Her people. I chose to compare the British and Indian treatment of insurgency to reassure Indians that I have not come to judge from a height. I am pleading on my knees. There is a superficial comparison with the actions of Lady Godiva who rode through mediaeval coventry naked on horseback to shame her husband into withdrawing an unfair Poll Tax on the poor. But it seems to me the legend is lost now in Romanticism and a brand of luxury chocolates. There is something natural simple and womanly in these desperate noble and quiet acts of ordinary women, a way of reclaiming humanity and humanness in a world that seems daily we lose ourselves and forget who we are, who we are to become.
I will give a potted history of the AF(SP)A as it is the reason she whom my soul loveth suffers. In 1942 the world was at war with the original Axis powers of unmitigated Fascist Evil. If the Allies had lost that war then Indians would not have the luxury of complaining about what the British did or didn’t do. If there were any Indians left they would merely explain it all as the Yuga of Kali.
When war first broke out 100,000 Anzac troops landed in Singapore as the first line of defence against Japan. Within two days they were given the choice of surrendering or being bombed to death so the British Commander gave the order for unconditional surrender. Burma borders Manipur and it was where the Japanese advance was eventually halted by the Indian Army. I will continue to call the nation Burma until the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi. The current Government has no legitimacy even to change the country’s name.
Thus to quell insurgency in Manipur the British having founded the paramilitary force of the Assam Rifles declared emergency legislation which allowed for an officer of at least the rank of Captain having given a written order to allow his men to shoot to kill in order to maintain order. The written order meant someone could in theory be held to account. The current law and these types of laws are always brought in as temporary measures was passed in 1958 and allows any soldier to detain, arrest, question or kill suspected insurgents on the grounds of suspicion alone. I am not arguing that a sane healthy society does not from time to time produce laws like this against it’s own citizens. I am asking for the people of India to change this law so that Irom Sharmila Chanu can end her indefinite fast. Because the world needs more lights. We cannot keep murdering our prophets and prophetesses.
It was the senseless killings at Enniskillen that the Irish sickened of their madness and enemies finally came to the table. Nobody needs to plan for prosperity. The Irish brought their own once the guns were taken away, and the violence ended. There were peace protestors and often Women Groups who led the way. The British experimented with Internment in Ireland in the 1960s but they gave it up as counter-productive. They tried shorter periods of detention outwith trial but these were ruled illegal under Habeas Corpus rights. Only a few years ago the detention of suspected Muslim terrorists at HMP Belmarsh in London for then over two years outwith informing them of the offences against them on the grounds it would harm national security was ruled illegal by the House of Lords.
It was the murder of ten people in a bus queue in Malom that sealed Sharmila Chanu’s resolve. Since 2 November 2000 she has been repeatedly arrested and detained under a mental health act on the grounds that she is attempting suicide. I am not clear why the Indian Government never charged Ghandi-ji with this particular law. That is a question Indian Government ministers can better answer for themselves. Since then she has been kept in quasi solitary confinement.
The Indian State is clearly not evil nor is it deliberately pursuing evil for the joy of hurting and abusing its own people. They have on the statute books a draconian law that would shame any democracy where democratic values were held in esteem. They have a woman whom they don’t want to die while she is in their care who insists on Satyagraha. Quite a quandary it would seem. The most intelligent and talented men and women in all India, many with multiple doctorates and yet they can see no way out of this paralysing dillemma. If they were to repeal the AF(SP)A then their security forces would be accountable if they raped and murdered their own citizens outwith any reason. I don’t wish to oversatyrize what many Indians probably unfairly believe of their own security forces and police but the AF(SP)A doesn’t exist in most of the country but this has never stopped anyone from raping and murdering a tribal if they really wish to do so. Quite a difficult thorny enigma then, and I hope I have not belittled the quandary that the men and women who govern the largest democracy in the world have to consider.
So if I have assuaged the need for critical comment. Have you not been entertained as the Gladiator put it. May I respectfully suggest that the problem is not as insurmountable as our Politicians would have it.
On 2 November 2000, Irom Sharmila touched the foot of her mother and asked her permission to follow her bounden duty as far as she had been given light to see. With the permission of her mother and her immediate family members granted she announced that she would begin an indefinite fast until the Armed Forces Special Provision Act was repealed. She had always been a thoughtful young woman. She had spent some time working for a UN field team investigating human rights abuses. She had begun then the daily practice of Yoga and was already used to fasting once a week as part of the Ayamas. Because she does not seek death, because she loves life, she consented to the painful procedure of force feeding. But she refuses to brush her teeth except with a cotton bud, to comb her hair or wear sandals. She reads voraciously but does not keep books. And she writes mystic poetry when she is full. When she is empty she rests in solitary confinement and practises her yogasanas.
There is no point in asking an expert how much longer she might live. No one knew until she began her fast that anyone could survive this long even with force feeding via a nasal tube to her stomach. Her body has deteriorated but not as might have been predicted. She attributes her continued life to her daily yogasanas and western medicine offers no counter-theory for her survival. In conversations with a priest friend he had said that a true prophet always inspires love, and brings life in more abundance.
Rather than focus on the physical damage being waged as symbol in this woman’s body it struck me that she does inspire. I have no doubt that she will not die under hunger strike even though there is no evidence that anything will change in Manipur or New Delhi. I also am fascinated waiting to see how she will bring about changes economic and social, bring true peace to Manipur. And not alone as part of the Meira Paibi tradition, those women who carried torches as the nightwatch and would shame their men into living better lives.
And I know that the problems of Manipur will not be solved by visiting NGOs. They clearly seem to thrive on the problems. It is impossible to do justice to the herstory of Irom Sharmila Chanu, in English that would translate to something like Lady Sharmila Irom but translation is fraught even for one who boasts that he is a budding Syriac Scholar. Writing unlike life is about re-writing re-phrasing until the imperfections no longer detract from the story that wants to be written. Writing unlike life is always a rehearsal.
For now you may write to her directly at:
Irom Sharmila Chanu
Security Ward
Jawaharlal Nehru Hospital
Porompat
Imphal – 795001
Manipur.
Of course if she dies like this I shall hold you all responsible at the only tribunal that really matters.
A comparison between the British and Indian responses to insurgency: An Irom Sharmila Chanu Herstory
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But on the plus side, a pretty young thing, very docile, unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course the same HM would say, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."
So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.
The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social and religious lines formed of dichotomous groupings such as travellers and settled, agricultural and IT workers, Catholics and Protestants, who prefer an apartheid based existence.
Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness. As it is clear where I wish to go with this.
When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).
When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.
I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.
The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save taking pleasure from life. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and “bending the knee before insolent might,” one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.
Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.
What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left until the British Patrols returned. Jim Calaghan was the foreign secretary who ordered the Troops into Ireland in the 1960s at the request of the Catholic leadership because outwith the troops they would have had no protection then. Even positive evil is not as obscene as that cast by the shadow of pure goodness. Originally the men would say the “tarring and feathering” was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on. And Women were created to bleed.
Can you play a game outwith knowing all the rules? Can you comment on current events outwith knowing all the relevant history? I haven’t mentioned the Corn Laws, or the Famine, the campaign for the disestablishment of the Church of Ireland, absent Landlords, Cromwell. Nobody likes badmouthing their own. An Indian Woman will proudly attack Indian men’s conduct over many issues affecting them until a foreigner enters the room. Perhaps there is more to fear in White neo-Colonial racism and exploitation than in the incestuous rape and murder of your own.
Manipur once was a proud independent princely state. An omphalos of fertile valley protected by nine Hills, one being especially sacred to Mother Earth. A paradigm of India its description sounds too beautiful not to be mere fairy tale. And what goes on sounds more frightening than the surreal nightmares of pychosis. As the British East India Company gradually began to forge together the disparate proud independent States we now refer to as the Republic of India it was necessary to curb their independence. Free men, Free women will not be ruled. During British rule new migrants came mainly Muslim, the divisions between the minority Hill tribes and the Majority Valley Tribe were encouraged. Too much can be made of this. Human beings are like crabs in a bucket. We would rather bring our neighbour down with us then let anyone escape to freedom.
The heritage of colonialism was in part the gradual reduction of an independent economy to one designed to provide resources for a Colonial Empire far far away. After Independence the model was maintained by New Delhi. Although Crores have been spent notionally on Development, and many have become multi-millionaires through it, the colonialization of Manipur begun under the British has been consummated under Indian Republic Rule. I mention this solely as part background. Economics can be as complex as History if you so choose. In simple terms there is no self-sustaining economy. If you see a new house being built in Imphal it belongs either to an insurgent or an NGO.
The three largest industries world-wide are the Arms Trade, Drugs and People Trafficking. Manipur does not appear to have any other industry aside from symbolic residual tokens. Apart from vanilla terrorism spread by small arms and explosives, the other main curse of Manipur is the Drug culture. A statistical comparison among Vietnam Veterans may be relevant. While in active combat 85% of American Forces regularly used illegal drugs. On their return this figure dropped to about 5% in the minority who never fully recovered from their experiences. Often Indians dismiss our problems as being just of poverty, something in which the whole world shares. As if by proving that we have ordinary human problems we can be absolved from responsibility
The role of women in Manipur and India is another of the great contradictions. All human society at one level is Matriarchal. Men tend to shout shoot and confuse movement with action, though sometimes in our defence action requires some movement. But if you want to change any family, community or society. A suggestion offered by Homer in his Oddyssey remains valid. First approach the woman who is most important in this land.
The indigenous religion of Manipur is what the Catholic Church calls Animist. The women practice a form of Shamanry, through dance and chanting. During the days of the Raj a King introduced Hindu Vaishnavism as the State approved Religion. A syncretic form is practised now with Christians prevalent among the Hill Tribes and Hindus and Shamanry in the Valley. The women have a tradition of their own family courts. They maintain a tradition of quiet brave satyagraha, not completely with ahimsa. The weaving staves are also often used as a weapon by the women though it seems to be more the effect of burly men being beaten back by a loaded handbag. All but the most hardened drug crazed rapists back down before someone who reminds them of their mother.
Thangjam Manorama Devi was raped tortured and murdered by officers of the 17th Assam Rifles on 11 July 2004. Their version is that they interrogated a suspect as was their right under the Armed Forces Special Provisions Act which operates in Manipur and the North Eastern States of India. In response twelve Meira Paibi (women elders) stripped in front of Kangla Fort until recently the barracks of the Assam Rifles chanting with dignity and outwith hatred to the brave soldiers of the Republic of India what I would fear to say. It’s a story which if I had read about 1st century apostles acting spirit filled speaking the gospel truth to those in authority fearless to the consequences I would assume that this was a later exaggerated redaction because human beings are not capable of such bravery.
And on a human level too I sympathize with a young business type trying to impress the equivalent of the Rotarian Club with his new business plan going into shock when instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of these local women he realizes that one of them is his mother. What were you thinking. I had to pretend I had no idea who you were and that this sort of thing never usually goes on around here we are a very civilized people. Oh and what’s for dinner I am starving. But she is an Indian Amma just released from prison on police bail charged with acts of public indecency. She has prepared his favourite dish for dinner. Did he really need to ask. If you want to know did the campaign work then you misunderstand me. The Meira Paibi responded in a non-violent protest and they will continue to respond non-violently until God hears the cry of Her people. I chose to compare the British and Indian treatment of insurgency to reassure Indians that I have not come to judge from a height. I am pleading on my knees. There is a superficial comparison with the actions of Lady Godiva who rode through mediaeval coventry naked on horseback to shame her husband into withdrawing an unfair Poll Tax on the poor. But it seems to me the legend is lost now in Romanticism and a brand of luxury chocolates. There is something natural simple and womanly in these desperate noble and quiet acts of ordinary women, a way of reclaiming humanity and humanness in a world that seems daily we lose ourselves and forget who we are, who we are to become.
I will give a potted history of the AF(SP)A as it is the reason she whom my soul loveth suffers. In 1942 the world was at war with the original Axis powers of unmitigated Fascist Evil. If the Allies had lost that war then Indians would not have the luxury of complaining about what the British did or didn’t do. If there were any Indians left they would merely explain it all as the Yuga of Kali.
When war first broke out 100,000 Anzac troops landed in Singapore as the first line of defence against Japan. Within two days they were given the choice of surrendering or being bombed to death so the British Commander gave the order for unconditional surrender. Burma borders Manipur and it was where the Japanese advance was eventually halted by the Indian Army. I will continue to call the nation Burma until the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi. The current Government has no legitimacy even to change the country’s name.
Thus to quell insurgency in Manipur the British having founded the paramilitary force of the Assam Rifles declared emergency legislation which allowed for an officer of at least the rank of Captain having given a written order to allow his men to shoot to kill in order to maintain order. The written order meant someone could in theory be held to account. The current law and these types of laws are always brought in as temporary measures was passed in 1958 and allows any soldier to detain, arrest, question or kill suspected insurgents on the grounds of suspicion alone. I am not arguing that a sane healthy society does not from time to time produce laws like this against it’s own citizens. I am asking for the people of India to change this law so that Irom Sharmila Chanu can end her indefinite fast. Because the world needs more lights. We cannot keep murdering our prophets and prophetesses.
It was the senseless killings at Enniskillen that the Irish sickened of their madness and enemies finally came to the table. Nobody needs to plan for prosperity. The Irish brought their own once the guns were taken away, and the violence ended. There were peace protestors and often Women Groups who led the way. The British experimented with Internment in Ireland in the 1960s but they gave it up as counter-productive. They tried shorter periods of detention outwith trial but these were ruled illegal under Habeas Corpus rights. Only a few years ago the detention of suspected Muslim terrorists at HMP Belmarsh in London for then over two years outwith informing them of the offences against them on the grounds it would harm national security was ruled illegal by the House of Lords.
It was the murder of ten people in a bus queue in Malom that sealed Sharmila Chanu’s resolve. Since 2 November 2000 she has been repeatedly arrested and detained under a mental health act on the grounds that she is attempting suicide. I am not clear why the Indian Government never charged Ghandi-ji with this particular law. That is a question Indian Government ministers can better answer for themselves. Since then she has been kept in quasi solitary confinement.
The Indian State is clearly not evil nor is it deliberately pursuing evil for the joy of hurting and abusing its own people. They have on the statute books a draconian law that would shame any democracy where democratic values were held in esteem. They have a woman whom they don’t want to die while she is in their care who insists on Satyagraha. Quite a quandary it would seem. The most intelligent and talented men and women in all India, many with multiple doctorates and yet they can see no way out of this paralysing dillemma. If they were to repeal the AF(SP)A then their security forces would be accountable if they raped and murdered their own citizens outwith any reason. I don’t wish to oversatyrize what many Indians probably unfairly believe of their own security forces and police but the AF(SP)A doesn’t exist in most of the country but this has never stopped anyone from raping and murdering a tribal if they really wish to do so. Quite a difficult thorny enigma then, and I hope I have not belittled the quandary that the men and women who govern the largest democracy in the world have to consider.
So if I have assuaged the need for critical comment. Have you not been entertained as the Gladiator put it. May I respectfully suggest that the problem is not as insurmountable as our Politicians would have it.
On 2 November 2000, Irom Sharmila touched the foot of her mother and asked her permission to follow her bounden duty as far as she had been given light to see. With the permission of her mother and her immediate family members granted she announced that she would begin an indefinite fast until the Armed Forces Special Provision Act was repealed. She had always been a thoughtful young woman. She had spent some time working for a UN field team investigating human rights abuses. She had begun then the daily practice of Yoga and was already used to fasting once a week as part of the Ayamas. Because she does not seek death, because she loves life, she consented to the painful procedure of force feeding. But she refuses to brush her teeth except with a cotton bud, to comb her hair or wear sandals. She reads voraciously but does not keep books. And she writes mystic poetry when she is full. When she is empty she rests in solitary confinement and practises her yogasanas.
There is no point in asking an expert how much longer she might live. No one knew until she began her fast that anyone could survive this long even with force feeding via a nasal tube to her stomach. Her body has deteriorated but not as might have been predicted. She attributes her continued life to her daily yogasanas and western medicine offers no counter-theory for her survival. In conversations with a priest friend he had said that a true prophet always inspires love, and brings life in more abundance.
Rather than focus on the physical damage being waged as symbol in this woman’s body it struck me that she does inspire. I have no doubt that she will not die under hunger strike even though there is no evidence that anything will change in Manipur or New Delhi. I also am fascinated waiting to see how she will bring about changes economic and social, bring true peace to Manipur. And not alone as part of the Meira Paibi tradition, those women who carried torches as the nightwatch and would shame their men into living better lives.
And I know that the problems of Manipur will not be solved by visiting NGOs. They clearly seem to thrive on the problems. It is impossible to do justice to the herstory of Irom Sharmila Chanu, in English that would translate to something like Lady Sharmila Irom but translation is fraught even for one who boasts that he is a budding Syriac Scholar. Writing unlike life is about re-writing re-phrasing until the imperfections no longer detract from the story that wants to be written. Writing unlike life is always a rehearsal.
For now you may write to her directly at:
Irom Sharmila Chanu
Security Ward
Jawaharlal Nehru Hospital
Porompat
Imphal – 795001
Manipur.
Of course if she dies like this I shall hold you all responsible at the only tribunal that really matters.
Friday, September 25, 2009
done and dusted now back to syriac grammar
A comparison between the British and Indian responses to insurgency: An Irom Sharmila Chanu Herstory
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But in her defence, quite a pretty young thing, very docile and unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social lines formed of distinct racial groupings that tend to stay separate.Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness.When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save from taking it from all others. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and bowing the knee to arrogant force, one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed in Irish Football an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left. Originally the men would say it was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on. And Women were created to bleed.
Can you play a game outwith knowing all the rules? Can you comment on current events outwith knowing all the relevant history? I haven’t mentioned the Corn Laws, or the Famine, the campaign for the disestablishment of the Church of Ireland, absent Landlords, Cromwell. Nobody likes badmouthing their own. An Indian Woman will proudly attack Indian men’s conduct over many issues affecting them until a foreigner enters the room. Perhaps there is more to fear in White neo-Colonial racism and exploitation than in the incestuous rape and murder of your own.
Manipur once was a proud independent princely state. An omphalos of fertile valley protected by nine Hills, one being especially sacred to Mother Earth. As the British East India Company gradually began to forge together the disparate proud independent States we now refer to as the Republic of India it was necessary to curb the independence. Free men, Free women could not be ruled. During British rule new migrants came mainly Muslim, the divisions between the minority Hill tribes and the Majority Valley Tribe were encouraged. Too much can be made of this. Human beings are like crabs in a bucket. We would rather bring our neighbour down with us then let anyone escape to freedom.
The heritage of colonialism was in part the gradual reduction of an independent economy to one designed to provide resources for a Colonial Empire far far away. After Independence the model was maintained by New Delhi. Although Crores have been spent notionally on Development, and many have become multi-millionaires through it, the colonialization of Manipur begun under the British has been consummated under Indian Republic Rule. I mention this solely as part background. Economics can be as complex as History if you so choose. In simple terms there is no self-sustaining economy. If you see a new house being built in Manipur it belongs either to an insurgent or an NGO.
The three largest industries world-wide are the Arms Trade, Drugs and People Trafficking. Manipur does not appear to have any other industry likely to survive outwith immediate action. Apart from vanilla terrorism spread by small arms and explosives, the other main curse of Manipur is the Drug culture. Often Indians dismiss problems as being just of poverty and something in which the whole world shares. As if by proving that they have ordinary human problems they can be absolved for taking responsibility for them.
The role of women in Manipur and India is one of the great contradictions. All human society at one level is Matriarchal. Men tend to shout shoot and confuse movement with action, though sometimes in our defence action requires some movement. But if you want to change any family, community or society. A suggestion offered by Homer in his Oddyssey remains valid. First approach the woman who is most important in this land.
The indigenous religion of Manipur is what the Catholic Church calls Animist. The women practice a form of Shamanry, through dance and chanting. They had a tradition of their own family courts. And they maintain a tradition of quiet brave satyagraha, not completely with ahimsa. The weaving staves are also often used as a weapon by the women though it seems to be more the effect of burly men being beaten back by a loaded handbag. All but the most hardened drug crazed rapists back down before someone who reminds them of their mother.
Thangjam Manorama Devi was raped tortured and murdered by officers of the 17th Assam Rifles on 11 July 2004. Their version is that they interrogated a suspect as was their right under the Armed Forces Special Provisions Act which operates in Manipur and the North Eastern States of India. In response twelve Meira Paibi (women elders) stripped in front of Kangla Fort until recently the barracks of the Assam Rifles chanting with dignity and outwith hatred to the brave soldiers of the Republic of India what I would fear to say. It’s a story which if I had read about 1st century apostles acting spirit filled speaking the gospel truth to those in authority fearless to the consequences I would assume that this was a later exaggerated redaction because human beings are not capable of such bravery.
And on a human level too I sympathize with a young business type trying to impress the equivalent of the Rotarian Club with his new business plan going into shock when instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of these local women he realizes that one of them is his mother. What were you thinking. I had to pretend I had no idea who you were and that this sort of thing never usually goes on around here we are a very civilized people. If you want to know did the campaign work then you have misunderstood. The Meira Paibi responded in a non-violent protest and they will continue to respond non-violently until God hears the cry of Her people.
I will give a potted history of the AF(SP)A as it is the reason she whom my soul loveth suffers. In 1942 the world was at war with the original Axis powers of unmitigated Fascist Evil. If the Allies had lost that war then Indians would not have the luxury of complaining about what the British did or didn’t do. If there were any Indians left they would merely explain it all as the Yuga of Kali.
When war first broke out 100,000 Anzac troops landed in Singapore as the first line of defence against Japan. Within two days they were given the choice of surrendering or being bombed to death so the British Commander gave the order for unconditional surrender. Burma borders Manipur and it was where the Japanese advance was eventually halted by the Indian Army. I will continue to call the nation Burma until the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi. The current Government has no legitimacy even to change the country’s name.
Thus to quell insurgency in Manipur the British having founded the paramilitary force of the Assam Rifles declared emergency legislation which allowed for an officer of at least the rank of Captain having given a written order to allow his men to shoot to kill in order to maintain order. The written order meant someone could in theory be held to account. The current law and these types of laws are always brought in as temporary measures was passed in 1958 and allows any soldier to detain, arrest, question or kill suspected insurgents on the grounds of suspicion alone. I am not arguing that a sane healthy society does not from time to time produce laws like this against it’s own citizens. I am asking for the people of India to change this law so that Irom Sharmila Chanu can end her indefinite fast. Because the world needs more lights. We cannot keep murdering our prophets and prophetesses.
It was the senseless killings at Enniskillen that the Irish sickened of their madness and enemies finally came to the table. Nobody needs to plan for prosperity. The Irish brought their own once the guns were taken away, and the violence ended. There were peace protestors and often Women Groups who led the way. The British experimented with Internment in Ireland in the 1960s but they gave it up as counter-productive. They tried shorter periods of detention outwith trial but these were ruled illegal under Habeas Corpus rights. Only a few years ago the detention of suspected Muslim terrorists at HMP Belmarsh in London for then over two years outwith informing them of the offences against them on the grounds it would harm national security was ruled illegal by the House of Lords.
So if I have assuaged the need for critical comment. Have you been entertained as the Gladiator put it. On 2 November 2000, Irom Sharmila touched the foot of her mother and asked her permission to follow her bounden duty as far as she had been given light to see. With the permission of her mother and her immediate family members granted she announced that she would begin an indefinite fast until the Armed Forces Special Provision Act was repealed.
There is no point in asking an expert how much longer she might live. No one knew until she began her fast that anyone could survive this long even with force feeding via a nasal tube to her stomach. Her body has deteriorated but not as might have been predicted. In conversations with a priest friend he had said that a true prophet always inspires love, and brings life in more abundance.
Rather than focus on the physical damage being waged as symbol in this woman’s body it struck me that she does inspire. I have no doubt that she will not die under hunger strike even though there is no evidence that anything will change in Manipur or New Delhi. I also am fascinated waiting to see how she will bring about changes economic and social, bring true peace to Manipur. And not alone as part of the Meira Paibi tradition, those women who carried torches as the nightwatch and would shame their men into living better lives.
And I know that the problems of Manipur will not be solved by visiting NGOs. They clearly seem to thrive on the problems. It is impossible to do justice to the herstory of Irom Sharmila Chanu, in English that would translate to something like Lady Sharmila Irom but translation is fraught even for one who boasts that he is a budding Syriac Scholar. Writing unlike life is about re-writing re-phrasing until the imperfections no longer detract from the story that wants to be written. Writing unlike life is always a rehearsal.
Of course if she dies like this I shall hold you all responsible at the only tribunal that really matters.
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But in her defence, quite a pretty young thing, very docile and unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social lines formed of distinct racial groupings that tend to stay separate.Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness.When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save from taking it from all others. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and bowing the knee to arrogant force, one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed in Irish Football an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left. Originally the men would say it was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on. And Women were created to bleed.
Can you play a game outwith knowing all the rules? Can you comment on current events outwith knowing all the relevant history? I haven’t mentioned the Corn Laws, or the Famine, the campaign for the disestablishment of the Church of Ireland, absent Landlords, Cromwell. Nobody likes badmouthing their own. An Indian Woman will proudly attack Indian men’s conduct over many issues affecting them until a foreigner enters the room. Perhaps there is more to fear in White neo-Colonial racism and exploitation than in the incestuous rape and murder of your own.
Manipur once was a proud independent princely state. An omphalos of fertile valley protected by nine Hills, one being especially sacred to Mother Earth. As the British East India Company gradually began to forge together the disparate proud independent States we now refer to as the Republic of India it was necessary to curb the independence. Free men, Free women could not be ruled. During British rule new migrants came mainly Muslim, the divisions between the minority Hill tribes and the Majority Valley Tribe were encouraged. Too much can be made of this. Human beings are like crabs in a bucket. We would rather bring our neighbour down with us then let anyone escape to freedom.
The heritage of colonialism was in part the gradual reduction of an independent economy to one designed to provide resources for a Colonial Empire far far away. After Independence the model was maintained by New Delhi. Although Crores have been spent notionally on Development, and many have become multi-millionaires through it, the colonialization of Manipur begun under the British has been consummated under Indian Republic Rule. I mention this solely as part background. Economics can be as complex as History if you so choose. In simple terms there is no self-sustaining economy. If you see a new house being built in Manipur it belongs either to an insurgent or an NGO.
The three largest industries world-wide are the Arms Trade, Drugs and People Trafficking. Manipur does not appear to have any other industry likely to survive outwith immediate action. Apart from vanilla terrorism spread by small arms and explosives, the other main curse of Manipur is the Drug culture. Often Indians dismiss problems as being just of poverty and something in which the whole world shares. As if by proving that they have ordinary human problems they can be absolved for taking responsibility for them.
The role of women in Manipur and India is one of the great contradictions. All human society at one level is Matriarchal. Men tend to shout shoot and confuse movement with action, though sometimes in our defence action requires some movement. But if you want to change any family, community or society. A suggestion offered by Homer in his Oddyssey remains valid. First approach the woman who is most important in this land.
The indigenous religion of Manipur is what the Catholic Church calls Animist. The women practice a form of Shamanry, through dance and chanting. They had a tradition of their own family courts. And they maintain a tradition of quiet brave satyagraha, not completely with ahimsa. The weaving staves are also often used as a weapon by the women though it seems to be more the effect of burly men being beaten back by a loaded handbag. All but the most hardened drug crazed rapists back down before someone who reminds them of their mother.
Thangjam Manorama Devi was raped tortured and murdered by officers of the 17th Assam Rifles on 11 July 2004. Their version is that they interrogated a suspect as was their right under the Armed Forces Special Provisions Act which operates in Manipur and the North Eastern States of India. In response twelve Meira Paibi (women elders) stripped in front of Kangla Fort until recently the barracks of the Assam Rifles chanting with dignity and outwith hatred to the brave soldiers of the Republic of India what I would fear to say. It’s a story which if I had read about 1st century apostles acting spirit filled speaking the gospel truth to those in authority fearless to the consequences I would assume that this was a later exaggerated redaction because human beings are not capable of such bravery.
And on a human level too I sympathize with a young business type trying to impress the equivalent of the Rotarian Club with his new business plan going into shock when instead of laughing at the ridiculousness of these local women he realizes that one of them is his mother. What were you thinking. I had to pretend I had no idea who you were and that this sort of thing never usually goes on around here we are a very civilized people. If you want to know did the campaign work then you have misunderstood. The Meira Paibi responded in a non-violent protest and they will continue to respond non-violently until God hears the cry of Her people.
I will give a potted history of the AF(SP)A as it is the reason she whom my soul loveth suffers. In 1942 the world was at war with the original Axis powers of unmitigated Fascist Evil. If the Allies had lost that war then Indians would not have the luxury of complaining about what the British did or didn’t do. If there were any Indians left they would merely explain it all as the Yuga of Kali.
When war first broke out 100,000 Anzac troops landed in Singapore as the first line of defence against Japan. Within two days they were given the choice of surrendering or being bombed to death so the British Commander gave the order for unconditional surrender. Burma borders Manipur and it was where the Japanese advance was eventually halted by the Indian Army. I will continue to call the nation Burma until the freeing of Aung San Suu Kyi. The current Government has no legitimacy even to change the country’s name.
Thus to quell insurgency in Manipur the British having founded the paramilitary force of the Assam Rifles declared emergency legislation which allowed for an officer of at least the rank of Captain having given a written order to allow his men to shoot to kill in order to maintain order. The written order meant someone could in theory be held to account. The current law and these types of laws are always brought in as temporary measures was passed in 1958 and allows any soldier to detain, arrest, question or kill suspected insurgents on the grounds of suspicion alone. I am not arguing that a sane healthy society does not from time to time produce laws like this against it’s own citizens. I am asking for the people of India to change this law so that Irom Sharmila Chanu can end her indefinite fast. Because the world needs more lights. We cannot keep murdering our prophets and prophetesses.
It was the senseless killings at Enniskillen that the Irish sickened of their madness and enemies finally came to the table. Nobody needs to plan for prosperity. The Irish brought their own once the guns were taken away, and the violence ended. There were peace protestors and often Women Groups who led the way. The British experimented with Internment in Ireland in the 1960s but they gave it up as counter-productive. They tried shorter periods of detention outwith trial but these were ruled illegal under Habeas Corpus rights. Only a few years ago the detention of suspected Muslim terrorists at HMP Belmarsh in London for then over two years outwith informing them of the offences against them on the grounds it would harm national security was ruled illegal by the House of Lords.
So if I have assuaged the need for critical comment. Have you been entertained as the Gladiator put it. On 2 November 2000, Irom Sharmila touched the foot of her mother and asked her permission to follow her bounden duty as far as she had been given light to see. With the permission of her mother and her immediate family members granted she announced that she would begin an indefinite fast until the Armed Forces Special Provision Act was repealed.
There is no point in asking an expert how much longer she might live. No one knew until she began her fast that anyone could survive this long even with force feeding via a nasal tube to her stomach. Her body has deteriorated but not as might have been predicted. In conversations with a priest friend he had said that a true prophet always inspires love, and brings life in more abundance.
Rather than focus on the physical damage being waged as symbol in this woman’s body it struck me that she does inspire. I have no doubt that she will not die under hunger strike even though there is no evidence that anything will change in Manipur or New Delhi. I also am fascinated waiting to see how she will bring about changes economic and social, bring true peace to Manipur. And not alone as part of the Meira Paibi tradition, those women who carried torches as the nightwatch and would shame their men into living better lives.
And I know that the problems of Manipur will not be solved by visiting NGOs. They clearly seem to thrive on the problems. It is impossible to do justice to the herstory of Irom Sharmila Chanu, in English that would translate to something like Lady Sharmila Irom but translation is fraught even for one who boasts that he is a budding Syriac Scholar. Writing unlike life is about re-writing re-phrasing until the imperfections no longer detract from the story that wants to be written. Writing unlike life is always a rehearsal.
Of course if she dies like this I shall hold you all responsible at the only tribunal that really matters.
A comparison between the British and Indian responses to insurgency: An Irom Sharmila Chanu Herstory
If I were Irom Sharmila's Headmaster and you were to ask me on her leaving day for my opinion of her, after collecting myself, "Irom, Irom you say, sounds familiar let me check. Ah below average intelligence, poor academic standards, never learnt to apply herself, will never amount to much. But in her defence, quite a pretty young thing, very docile and unlikely ever to give anyone any trouble." Today of course, "Irom Sharmila Chanu the nation's greatest poetess, fearless experimenter in Truth, internationally feted peace activist, a Yogin with a radical vision for eco-friendly village based development opposed to western capitalism, I am sure she will be the first to accept that I taught her everything she knew."
So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.
The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social lines formed of distinct racial groupings that tend to stay separate.
Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness.
When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).
When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.
I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.
The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save from taking it from all others. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and bowing the knee to arrogant force, one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed in Irish Football an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.
Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.
What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left. Originally the men would say it was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on.
So back to the British. If you were to ask a Britisher are you not ashamed, does not your nation harbour a terrible toxic guilt over it's treatment of the Irish. They might ponder for a moment, wondering what on earth are you on about. Images of boybands, girlbands, Enya, the Eurovision song contest, and then perhaps tourist stag dos held in Dublin where the stags can really go wild, or is the foreigner trying to say something about what we did to Guinness. Then he'd think well I don't mind discussing the facts in a reasonable manner but this foreigner does not seem to have a grasp of the basics of history. He'd be right. For is not History a coiled dragon which whilst sleeping devours its tail. Or perhaps the tail devours the dragon for history has no beginning no end. We enter and leave her always in medias res.
The island of Ireland, Eire in the tongue of the aboriginals, was made up of many tribal kingdoms under a mythic High King of All Ireland. In modern times the kingdoms were named as the Four Counties. When these Counties are united the fifth Royal County appears, where lives still the true High King of All Ireland. However since the British kept Ulster for itself and until it is returned the High King sleeps in his holy mountain. The Irish are a simple pagan people, highly superstitious, nominally Christian, and they are far from a united people. On closer inspection there they are divided strictly upon economic and social lines formed of distinct racial groupings that tend to stay separate.
Manipur was a princely state one of the North Eastern princely states. If I were to ask people about the national shame heaped upon India by its treatment of these forgotten lands the Indian would retort as the Britisher though outwith mention of boybands and Guinness.
When I was in Bristol in the 1980s as a non-Englishmen I befriended many of the other nationals living in the Hostel there, the Welsh, Scots and Irish. One in particular a deeply religious young man had become increasingly irritated at being called an IRA supporter. He did not condone violence but whenever he spoke out at what the British were doing in his country people didn't even want to listen. I told him best not to speak when the English were about. He told me one tale I still remember more by the passion of the telling. How one of his schoolfriends was picked up one day by a British Patrol and beaten and kicked to the extent of leaving him hospitalized then and impotent for the rest of his life. No British soldier has ever been punished for any wrong doing in Ireland. He mentioned Bloody Sunday too the day British Paratroopers opened fire upon unarmed civilian peace protestors for which there have been countless Public Inquiries over the years, each Inquiry seems to leave just more unanswered questions and no one held to account. You don't know what it's like Desmond. You didn't grow up in Divers Flats (a Catholic housing estate in Belfast, Northern Ireland).
When I was in Dublin in 2000-2001 after the peace process was in full flow I was quite shocked by the reaction of one young Belfast Catholic woman on our course in Spirituality and Theology. I have a knack for getting under people's skin but it was her visceral anger. I don't recall the specifics save for her final comments. This is not about forgiveness. This is about justice. Only a mahatma it would appear can trascend the twisted knots of abuse and evil and still salute Namaskar in the other.
I will mention the Assam Rifles because they were formed by the British and there are parallels with the Black and Tans paramilitaries used against the Irish in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Usually Soldiers can maintain discipline for 90 days. After that in prolonged conflict the brutality of war brutalizes our children. And we do well to reminds ourselves that frontline soldiers are always children first until we have no more young to send, then and only then are the men sent out. With the Black and Tans and the Assam Rifles, a different model is used. Here you take the delinquents, the rapists, thugs, muggers and murderers and instead of depositing them just on a island far far away as some radical prison reformists seek. You give them a uniform and lethal weapons. The idea being to suppress terrorist insurgency with a greater terror. There is no discipline to maintain but the recruitment rids your troubled lands of problem children who then can work usefully and with honour for their country. I use the term honour here in the same sense as honour killing, not in the 19th century Romantic tradition.
The national sport in Ireland is Irish Football. At their national stadium during a national final an armoured regiment of Black and Tans invaded the pitch. Why because petty thugs are killjoys who take no pleasure in life save from taking it from all others. What started the bloodbath? And this too is consistent and predictable given the type of paramilitaries involve. Instead of trembling and bowing the knee to arrogant force, one of the star players kicked the ball over a tank and ran past it, what is termed in Irish Football an Up and Under. They responded with machine gun fire. These were British troops acting with the full authority of the State within the then borders of the United Kingdom.
Let me end this section by acknowledging the widespread use of gang rape against the women civilians of Northern Ireland by all sides during what was always called the Troubles. It is easy to make mock of the litotes preferred by Indian English, Encounter, Eve-Teasing, Honour killing and easy to forget that murder is perpetuated in Language. But if you wanted the British to acknowledge what you mean you could not just mention the Troubles, you would have to say the word in the context of Norther Ireland, because the word itself is meaningless.
What would happen was that a gang of men masked men would turn up at your house and drag a woman into the street. She would be stripped gang raped, beaten then tarred and feather and left tied to a lampost like a dog. And people would be too scared even to cut her down once the men left. Originally the men would say it was to discourage collaborators. Then collaboration could mean you were a waitress or bartender and served the wrong person a drink. Eventually it meant you had a hard day, perhaps people close to you had been hurt or killed and you wanted to kick back and wind down. They were masked men who knows who side they were on.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
800 8000 I am definitely getting Barbie in her Indian Avatar with Sari after lunch
So at last, yes self-eficacy is the word. All about breaking eggs. If someone doesn't believe he can cook then no matter what courses you send him on he always fails. But you help someone break and egg, mix in some flower, give him a little success, once he believes he can bake a cake, that's self eficacy, then he is a choux chef.
So I remember being 11. I've begun translating short sentences from English to Syriac. The trick is it forces you to recall vocab and simple grammatical constructions it's closer to solving crossword puzzles than conversation. Then as a treat I'll have a crack at the simple Syriac to English sentences. For extra fun I could translate the Syriac into Greek. They started putting that into exam questions please translate the following into English to stop peeps doing things like that just for fun during exams.
I am a Syriac Scholar. I have the Little Prince on Order. I think the man went for the 150 rupee version but it's hard back. I'll pop in the book I have by the Belgian Nun who makes dolls. She signed that one for me I wondered what I'd do with it. I gave my statue of St Benedict to Fr Arputham the miracle man the liberation theologian. Brought back 1kg of halwa for the boys. I think I needed 10kg but they said never more than 3kg. I don't think I shall die today, but you never know. I feel there is something I should say. Never mind. Quick revision of chapter one Healy then maybe have a look at Robinsons. Trick is to keep it fun.
Oh yes Burrggraeve wrote back he would have loved to chat with me yeah yeah, he finds my comments very thought provoking, recommended a book. I wrote back and told him not to let us students eat him alive, and he responded with thanks. He wants to rest but felt he had to offer. It's a bit like courtship during the early days. MeeraBai I think is the poetess previous incarnation. A Rajastan Princess a northerner. But as a local Dalit told me it's not about north and south but about good and evil. Jai ho Jai Bhim. Oh if she ever writes back I shall let y'all know. I need to start calling up some communion of saint favours again. But the thing about the marker once you take back your marker the angel is no longer under bounden duty. Thank god for Prema Bhakti then hmm.
So I remember being 11. I've begun translating short sentences from English to Syriac. The trick is it forces you to recall vocab and simple grammatical constructions it's closer to solving crossword puzzles than conversation. Then as a treat I'll have a crack at the simple Syriac to English sentences. For extra fun I could translate the Syriac into Greek. They started putting that into exam questions please translate the following into English to stop peeps doing things like that just for fun during exams.
I am a Syriac Scholar. I have the Little Prince on Order. I think the man went for the 150 rupee version but it's hard back. I'll pop in the book I have by the Belgian Nun who makes dolls. She signed that one for me I wondered what I'd do with it. I gave my statue of St Benedict to Fr Arputham the miracle man the liberation theologian. Brought back 1kg of halwa for the boys. I think I needed 10kg but they said never more than 3kg. I don't think I shall die today, but you never know. I feel there is something I should say. Never mind. Quick revision of chapter one Healy then maybe have a look at Robinsons. Trick is to keep it fun.
Oh yes Burrggraeve wrote back he would have loved to chat with me yeah yeah, he finds my comments very thought provoking, recommended a book. I wrote back and told him not to let us students eat him alive, and he responded with thanks. He wants to rest but felt he had to offer. It's a bit like courtship during the early days. MeeraBai I think is the poetess previous incarnation. A Rajastan Princess a northerner. But as a local Dalit told me it's not about north and south but about good and evil. Jai ho Jai Bhim. Oh if she ever writes back I shall let y'all know. I need to start calling up some communion of saint favours again. But the thing about the marker once you take back your marker the angel is no longer under bounden duty. Thank god for Prema Bhakti then hmm.
perambulations
I am fairly certain I have embraced the gift of my insanity. I have listened again to the recording of Irom Sharmila Chanu and realize she too has embraced insanity. There was this scene from Charlie's Angels the modern one not Farah Fawcett where they do something similar and manage to link up mid air.
Not to worry total insanity is just like mystic experiences or Siddhis, meant to be ignored. I shall press ahead with the Syriac key is little and often. Just keep digging deeper and deeper until I am surrounded by Syriac, once I start breathing in the dust and seeing Syriac letters mysterious appear and disappear when strangers converse then I shall be ready for mystagogical Syriac. For now it's more memorize and write vocab lists.
Now I think night train is set for October 4 which is a Sunday. I make Khazipet on October 5 Monday when Paul Father offered me Stephen the Orphan as a guide. I respectfully declined don't trouble him I had said. I think I am better off with cash and a British accent. Then I had asked Paul Father to book me a sleeper train to Chennai from 12-15 October. If he hasn't got around to it then I'll just catch a bus to Chennai after a week or so. Then I'll take the coastal train to Velankanni, say sorry and all that to Our Lady, then I get to Park Guest House Aurobindo Ashram Pondicherry I like them they sound like hippies. I think getting hazy but I have a ticket to travel flight to Colombo on 21 October. Now haven't been able to confirm but not sure how important it is, you used to be able to get a visa to india from Kangy i think it is anyway the deputy embassy or the Embassy. I think they may have farmed it out to a private company like they do in London. In which case I submit it in Colombo have photos and an ATM card. Then back to Chennai November 1 night train to Bangalore November 2.
That's a point. With an extra tenner that's 8000 rupees woah. Now the only thing holding me back for the tykes is luggage space.
Oh and I sent another communique off to the OIAHE, they are supposed to be getting me some money for the tykes instead they want to give me extra reading materiel on the possible remit of a court of second instance if there is anything that can motivate a man to hit the Syriac Grammar it's some bint called Madame Gogol Gormenghast telling me that it's really important I learn more how bureacracies works please see our on line library.
Oliver I shall write to you shortly I think but I will say nothing new it is just for you to know that I am as serious about the things I am serious about but as Adorno put it, nothing is ever that serious even the life and death struggle of the woman I have the thing that thing the thing thing for.
Not to worry total insanity is just like mystic experiences or Siddhis, meant to be ignored. I shall press ahead with the Syriac key is little and often. Just keep digging deeper and deeper until I am surrounded by Syriac, once I start breathing in the dust and seeing Syriac letters mysterious appear and disappear when strangers converse then I shall be ready for mystagogical Syriac. For now it's more memorize and write vocab lists.
Now I think night train is set for October 4 which is a Sunday. I make Khazipet on October 5 Monday when Paul Father offered me Stephen the Orphan as a guide. I respectfully declined don't trouble him I had said. I think I am better off with cash and a British accent. Then I had asked Paul Father to book me a sleeper train to Chennai from 12-15 October. If he hasn't got around to it then I'll just catch a bus to Chennai after a week or so. Then I'll take the coastal train to Velankanni, say sorry and all that to Our Lady, then I get to Park Guest House Aurobindo Ashram Pondicherry I like them they sound like hippies. I think getting hazy but I have a ticket to travel flight to Colombo on 21 October. Now haven't been able to confirm but not sure how important it is, you used to be able to get a visa to india from Kangy i think it is anyway the deputy embassy or the Embassy. I think they may have farmed it out to a private company like they do in London. In which case I submit it in Colombo have photos and an ATM card. Then back to Chennai November 1 night train to Bangalore November 2.
That's a point. With an extra tenner that's 8000 rupees woah. Now the only thing holding me back for the tykes is luggage space.
Oh and I sent another communique off to the OIAHE, they are supposed to be getting me some money for the tykes instead they want to give me extra reading materiel on the possible remit of a court of second instance if there is anything that can motivate a man to hit the Syriac Grammar it's some bint called Madame Gogol Gormenghast telling me that it's really important I learn more how bureacracies works please see our on line library.
Oliver I shall write to you shortly I think but I will say nothing new it is just for you to know that I am as serious about the things I am serious about but as Adorno put it, nothing is ever that serious even the life and death struggle of the woman I have the thing that thing the thing thing for.
Gitanjali le Petit Prince and Syriac Studies to Infinity and Beyond
So I got a copy of Gitanjali and the Gardener. If you understand Indian and I repeat this only in that context she may be the reincarnation of Meera Bai who was a 16th Century mystic of the prema Bhakti tradition in Rajastan. A norther complement to the Tamil tradition. If she is the good news is Meera Bai lived till she was 67 which gives her thirty more years.
I have ordered the Little Prince and I have a novel by Rabindranath called Yogi something anyway I am gonna read it and send them both on. But now to serious work. Sunday week I shall be on the night train to Nellikuduru. I have some simple text books for the kids with gold star stickers they were on sale at Landmark. A few bible story books, and I know this is so wrong and anti-feminist but there is the Indian Avatar of Barbie in a sari and I am going to get it for Manjulah Bhai my sponsee. And a couple of punch and shoot airplane and missile things, no not necessarilly for boys, and I am pretty sure there would be at least one gypsy boy who would prefer the Barbie, why are you picking on me.
I must hit the grammar book now. All I have to do and this is gonna sound really easy. Is memorize a few personal pronouns. And then write them down a few times for practice. Once I have done that move on to demonstrative and relative pronouns I am aiming for the first test Saturday. That's not too tough and will still be fun. Healy's test within his book.
Roger Burggraeve wrote back. I was right about him he said my email had made him think. Wished I had caught him at DVK before he left term has started he is very busy and recommended a book to read next for Levinas. Keen students will eat that man alive. That's the thing with really spiritual people they all offer their body and soul to be broken and eaten, whereas I am more a pastry or today Halwa kind of guy. For a horrid moment there I thought I had missed lunch but no I ate that too. Tiffin in 15 mins yippee.
So the kids here maybe don't think by talking aloud but all the Levinas books apart from an intro by Davis are on loan. I bet if I actually did get one of them to speak about Levinas they'd have something really interesting to say. It's always the quiet ones.
Ne'er mind got an intro to Hegel, Adorno on the Jargon of Authenticity which I hope will be fun, in a taking the mickey out of existentialist jargon kind of way but by a grown up, oooh the Heidegger Controversy source text book was he or wasn't he in his own words, and a textbook on Women and Spirituality so there, but the Barbie in her Sari was so pretty.
So I figure I am really a Syriac Scholar, just at present possibly the most ignorant Syriac Scholar who claims the title of Syriac Scholar, but I feel good about life. That's it talking to the Liberation Theologian again Fr Arputham the Miracle Man and he was saying all very well but you can't just hide away, true spirituality is always life enhancing, and that's when it struck me, our Irom Sharmila Chanu, there is hope there I feel. And if I manage to find a parallel between her Meera Bai and some Syriac texts of any age, there is my PhD just waiting to be written up.
Oh yeah my brother and John the Just are selling the house, so I am not going to give myself a hard time on buying a few books and a barbie doll. I thought a lot about my mother. If she helps me with my new obsession be worth a lot more to me than more money. My son the Syriac Scholar she will say in the kindom of heaven too right ma'am.
I have ordered the Little Prince and I have a novel by Rabindranath called Yogi something anyway I am gonna read it and send them both on. But now to serious work. Sunday week I shall be on the night train to Nellikuduru. I have some simple text books for the kids with gold star stickers they were on sale at Landmark. A few bible story books, and I know this is so wrong and anti-feminist but there is the Indian Avatar of Barbie in a sari and I am going to get it for Manjulah Bhai my sponsee. And a couple of punch and shoot airplane and missile things, no not necessarilly for boys, and I am pretty sure there would be at least one gypsy boy who would prefer the Barbie, why are you picking on me.
I must hit the grammar book now. All I have to do and this is gonna sound really easy. Is memorize a few personal pronouns. And then write them down a few times for practice. Once I have done that move on to demonstrative and relative pronouns I am aiming for the first test Saturday. That's not too tough and will still be fun. Healy's test within his book.
Roger Burggraeve wrote back. I was right about him he said my email had made him think. Wished I had caught him at DVK before he left term has started he is very busy and recommended a book to read next for Levinas. Keen students will eat that man alive. That's the thing with really spiritual people they all offer their body and soul to be broken and eaten, whereas I am more a pastry or today Halwa kind of guy. For a horrid moment there I thought I had missed lunch but no I ate that too. Tiffin in 15 mins yippee.
So the kids here maybe don't think by talking aloud but all the Levinas books apart from an intro by Davis are on loan. I bet if I actually did get one of them to speak about Levinas they'd have something really interesting to say. It's always the quiet ones.
Ne'er mind got an intro to Hegel, Adorno on the Jargon of Authenticity which I hope will be fun, in a taking the mickey out of existentialist jargon kind of way but by a grown up, oooh the Heidegger Controversy source text book was he or wasn't he in his own words, and a textbook on Women and Spirituality so there, but the Barbie in her Sari was so pretty.
So I figure I am really a Syriac Scholar, just at present possibly the most ignorant Syriac Scholar who claims the title of Syriac Scholar, but I feel good about life. That's it talking to the Liberation Theologian again Fr Arputham the Miracle Man and he was saying all very well but you can't just hide away, true spirituality is always life enhancing, and that's when it struck me, our Irom Sharmila Chanu, there is hope there I feel. And if I manage to find a parallel between her Meera Bai and some Syriac texts of any age, there is my PhD just waiting to be written up.
Oh yeah my brother and John the Just are selling the house, so I am not going to give myself a hard time on buying a few books and a barbie doll. I thought a lot about my mother. If she helps me with my new obsession be worth a lot more to me than more money. My son the Syriac Scholar she will say in the kindom of heaven too right ma'am.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I think I have things in perspective a Plan
Last time I announced a Plan mind my mother's son, her first born, reacted a little too much and too negatively.
So first Kottayam is like Richmond Hill if Richmond were in Zanzibar. SEERI, is a monastery. The Director showed me his prized possession by a recent graduate, a Scribe. Ok no illuminations but a handwritten text of something in Syriac which they now photocopy and publish. Name of the Rose for the 21st century. Syriac chanted Divine Office at 6, midday and 7 pm. Daily Qurbono. Students are independent. If you just want to pass the MA they let you trundle along. If you are serious there are plenty of untranslated manuscripts around in a few years I should expect you to start publishing one book a year. Then I could say I am a visiting Syriac Scholar and you are meant to be eccentric and strange.
Plus I really need another obsession like Syriac to stop me obsessing about Irom Sharmila Chanu. I am going to try sending her Gitanjali (it's pronounced like Patanjali like Angelina Jolie anyway) and the Little Prince.
Ok if anyone could help here.
It would be really Brill if she turns out to be a proper Mystic poet like Tagore but I don't know most of her stuff is in Manipuri awaiting translation. She is described as an Illiterate Tribal. For the past 9 years in solitary confinement on hunger strike she has done Yoga Asanas several hours a day. Concentrate on the upside down positions. It's probably kept her alive. I doubt even a GP/Surgeon has any idea how long a person can live on force feeding with a nasal tube alone. Her body has deteriorated quite considerably. Where was I. If the poetry is just standard bad poetry then it's not the end of the world. But it would make sense, that the inner plane spirit of poetry would write through her. One wyrd thing she had said after 7 years in solitary in Imphal and spending a few months in a Prison Hospital Ward in New Delhi, where the police and nurses seem to have fallen in love with her, and she was getting visitors from everywhere including one Nobel Peace Laureate from South Korea. She said she was full and once back home she would write a thousand line poem. So she gets back home and a few months later when she gets the prison visit from the book author she has written a 1100 line poem and now is empty again and doesn't write.
So this is one of her poems let me know if it's any good.
Beyond This Tangled Visible World
Beyond this tangled visible world
I flew to heaven in an airplane
Reaching That Land
Where my Maker was to test me
Enchanted, but also fearful,
Taking the shape of a cloud
I find myself eye to eye with the gods.
What an awesome form it is
The vibration of the void,
How joyful, how electrifying
I marvel in awe as I remember,
Beyond the illusions of this world
In that land of harmonious life,
There is no space for the body
What are eyes and ears?
What after all are hands and feet?
Hearing there is no essential difference
Between divine form and human,
I knew not how different they are
How are we to compare -
This world and that
Place with no birth, no death,
How express this wonder?
I express what I know
The sightless shall see
Those without hearing will hear
Of cosmic creation, human emotion and
Supreme knowledge of That Essence
Space is filled with vibrations
Those people are without delusions
No high and low, all are equal there
They feel no jealousy like worldly folks
There is no despair or dissatisfaction
I can hardly explain -
They have no profit or loss there
Freely they move in their duties,
Enveloped by soft, strong light
Nothing is impossible or unreachable
In that place where truth is lucid and pure
No excuse exists for untruth
Human wrongs are punished
Not excused or ignored
Translated from Manipuri into Hindi by ISC translated from Hindi into English by Deepta Priay Mehrota
Given that it's two degrees of separation away I still think she is the real mccoy. I have to go and get a copy of Gitanjali and the Little Prince. On 2 November it will be nine years since she began the indefinite fast. And I know I am obsesssing I can feel it. I got really depressed before I left for Kottayam until I sent off another email to the Indian President about her. But I have five years of Syriac to counterbalance this obsession. And she is a sleeper they won't allow to awaken, what else should a old man do but obsess and dream dreams. Although two things struck me with absurd clarity. She will not die on hunger strike. And a Syriac Scholar fully at her disposal is far more useful to her than the full support of the President of the United States.
So first Kottayam is like Richmond Hill if Richmond were in Zanzibar. SEERI, is a monastery. The Director showed me his prized possession by a recent graduate, a Scribe. Ok no illuminations but a handwritten text of something in Syriac which they now photocopy and publish. Name of the Rose for the 21st century. Syriac chanted Divine Office at 6, midday and 7 pm. Daily Qurbono. Students are independent. If you just want to pass the MA they let you trundle along. If you are serious there are plenty of untranslated manuscripts around in a few years I should expect you to start publishing one book a year. Then I could say I am a visiting Syriac Scholar and you are meant to be eccentric and strange.
Plus I really need another obsession like Syriac to stop me obsessing about Irom Sharmila Chanu. I am going to try sending her Gitanjali (it's pronounced like Patanjali like Angelina Jolie anyway) and the Little Prince.
Ok if anyone could help here.
It would be really Brill if she turns out to be a proper Mystic poet like Tagore but I don't know most of her stuff is in Manipuri awaiting translation. She is described as an Illiterate Tribal. For the past 9 years in solitary confinement on hunger strike she has done Yoga Asanas several hours a day. Concentrate on the upside down positions. It's probably kept her alive. I doubt even a GP/Surgeon has any idea how long a person can live on force feeding with a nasal tube alone. Her body has deteriorated quite considerably. Where was I. If the poetry is just standard bad poetry then it's not the end of the world. But it would make sense, that the inner plane spirit of poetry would write through her. One wyrd thing she had said after 7 years in solitary in Imphal and spending a few months in a Prison Hospital Ward in New Delhi, where the police and nurses seem to have fallen in love with her, and she was getting visitors from everywhere including one Nobel Peace Laureate from South Korea. She said she was full and once back home she would write a thousand line poem. So she gets back home and a few months later when she gets the prison visit from the book author she has written a 1100 line poem and now is empty again and doesn't write.
So this is one of her poems let me know if it's any good.
Beyond This Tangled Visible World
Beyond this tangled visible world
I flew to heaven in an airplane
Reaching That Land
Where my Maker was to test me
Enchanted, but also fearful,
Taking the shape of a cloud
I find myself eye to eye with the gods.
What an awesome form it is
The vibration of the void,
How joyful, how electrifying
I marvel in awe as I remember,
Beyond the illusions of this world
In that land of harmonious life,
There is no space for the body
What are eyes and ears?
What after all are hands and feet?
Hearing there is no essential difference
Between divine form and human,
I knew not how different they are
How are we to compare -
This world and that
Place with no birth, no death,
How express this wonder?
I express what I know
The sightless shall see
Those without hearing will hear
Of cosmic creation, human emotion and
Supreme knowledge of That Essence
Space is filled with vibrations
Those people are without delusions
No high and low, all are equal there
They feel no jealousy like worldly folks
There is no despair or dissatisfaction
I can hardly explain -
They have no profit or loss there
Freely they move in their duties,
Enveloped by soft, strong light
Nothing is impossible or unreachable
In that place where truth is lucid and pure
No excuse exists for untruth
Human wrongs are punished
Not excused or ignored
Translated from Manipuri into Hindi by ISC translated from Hindi into English by Deepta Priay Mehrota
Given that it's two degrees of separation away I still think she is the real mccoy. I have to go and get a copy of Gitanjali and the Little Prince. On 2 November it will be nine years since she began the indefinite fast. And I know I am obsesssing I can feel it. I got really depressed before I left for Kottayam until I sent off another email to the Indian President about her. But I have five years of Syriac to counterbalance this obsession. And she is a sleeper they won't allow to awaken, what else should a old man do but obsess and dream dreams. Although two things struck me with absurd clarity. She will not die on hunger strike. And a Syriac Scholar fully at her disposal is far more useful to her than the full support of the President of the United States.
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