The Soul search & Stray dogs - Bytes from Bystander

Soul search and the stalemate:

The essence or spirit of life is deemed to be the soul. The soul enters a human body at the time of birth and leaves at the appointed time. Who decides the time and whether there exists a possibility of getting an extension are in the realm of faith and religion. What happens to the departed soul and how the sequence of rebirth is determined, if the soul has eternal existence?

If the never ending cycle of re-births is accepted for the departed souls, then this question on the increase of human population needs a convincing answer on the paradox, how an increase can occur when the same numbers of souls take re-births? Should this figure not be a constant? The birth to death ratio and birth of multiple offspring does not help in explaining the increase in human beings.

Suppose, there is a law of conservation of souls at work to manage this figure and for this law to operate successfully, the total number of souls had been distributed among all the forms of lives in the universe, to start with.  And by up gradation, the souls from lower forms of lives join the human population. For this theory to work, it has to be conceded that all forms of lives have souls.

Even if this is acceptable, the numbers don’t add up as the count of species runs in to millions and each one with a population of millions. Species becoming extinct, falling prey in the food chain and natural deaths amongst them liberates millions of souls. Do all these get upgraded to the next form of life? In answering one paradox another one has surfaced to confound the calculations.

One way to reduce the rush of souls at the gate of human factory would be to introduce a wait-listed system for the departed souls to allow only those souls which had inhabited species with five senses to get promoted. At this threshold the number of competing souls drastically reduces but still the growth figures for the human population remain unexplained. Another interesting point that comes up now is the possibility of re-births even in the lower orders of living things.

Conception of a human embryo is beset with complications and unimaginable hurdles - millions of sperms manage to fertilise a few eggs. In the subsequent stages, still birth and child mortality influence the growth of population. It is a wonder how an upgraded soul or a departed soul from a human being manages to find the right host, truly winning against astronomical odds!

How and when the soul does enter a human body? Probably, with the first breath the newborn takes after coming out of the womb. What sort of a record the soul brought to the child at the time of its birth? How the DNA is able reads the encrypted instructions and act accordingly? How then the soul leaves the human body, may be, with the last breath exhaled at the time of death? What the soul carries away with it as record of its existence that just got extinguished? The spirits or souls may not suffer from language barrier but do they suffer continental divide is a pertinent question. When a soul is on the verge of rebirth, how these issues are sorted out. Another point is when a child is about to be born dead, how the waiting soul knows about it. Is there a ‘soul.net’ connection to advise suitable action?

Question after question or in the best case scenario an answer throws up at least one supplementary question or confusions. Bystander lost his nerve to go farther in to the realms the dead and their souls.

 "Switch Bharat" :



The more he thought about the more he liked the idea. For an idea to succeed it must have measurable potential and deployable resources to convert an opportunity in to an enterprise. On this count, he felt his idea had a great appeal. He never thought a news item, casually read, will leave such a hallmark impression in his mind and slowly gelled in to this idea.

Taking stock of his preferences, he came to the conclusion of being neither an animal lover nor a hater but opting to keep a safe distance from being bitten by any pet or stray dogs or wild animals, including the snake varieties. In his boyhood he had chased some dogs and cats after ascertaining that they had no intention of coming anywhere near the biting distance. The lucky escapes could have been because of he and the chased ones were confused about their ‘pet’ or ‘stray’ status!

News papers publish statistics, metropolitan city wise, the number of 2 wheeler, 4 wheeler, trucks and buses that add to the traffic jams and commuter woes. Not to leave the animal lovers or haters feeling bad, they also come up with reasonable estimates on the number of pet animals and stray animals, including the bovine variety. He wondered whether, in the case of animals, this compilation was carried out during a population census and the numbers periodically revised based on either GDP, WPI/CPI or by any other method best known to certain people in the know!

 For the present, he was willing to take the published data as such, on pet animals and stray dogs living in each of the metropolitan city. He did not fail to notice a commonality– all metropolitan cities had more strays than pet animals!

Another published data on the crime graph Vs strength of law enforcing force, hit-and-run Vs coverage of CCTV surveillance made him to, literally sit up and take notice. Thus he found the genesis for his, yet to be proposed, brilliant idea. He liked to tie all the loose ends before discussing his idea even to himself loudly. He decided to take a walk in the streets as it allowed him a chance to observe and think at the same time to analyse the idea.

He came upon a crowd of people near a mangled 2 wheeler and the rider injured but not seriously sitting at a distance. A stray dog was looking forlornly at his bike splitting its guts on the road. The question ‘in a hit-and–run case, what business that dog had there?’ remaining unanswered, he returned home. He had already decided how to go about finding takers for his idea – mobile surveillance. Who else other than the stray dogs could be streetwise?

He took up the technical challenges that are likely to derail his project and listed them for finding workable solutions. He envisaged creating a “waGSapp” to automatically upload videos from all the wired stray dogs spontaneously giving out geographical coordinates of the area under surveillance along with the tag number of the information generator. Public and law enforcing agencies will get an alert over cell phone, regarding the incoming visuals and audio from respective service providers. The hi-tech industries will support the effort as part of Social Responsibility.

The Central government wishing to reap the immense potential of this surveillance tool might join hands with a dedicated spectrum allocation and sops for the industries to encourage their participation, under “switch Bharat” scheme. The beleaguered state governments suffering acute manpower shortage in the police forces see an golden chance to gain  immensely – stray dogs are aplenty, don’t ask for food and shelter, offer voluntary service, rain or shine they are on duty and do not claim allowances, medical and retirement benefits. Yet the state governments may demand devolution of funds from the central government as it has been given the status of a scheme!

Some brilliant ‘think tank’ can come up with a suggestion that States can seek Central funds under deemed loss of ‘revenue’ as stray dogs do not apply for any license. Sit-ins and walk-outs are staged when the fight for funds echoes in the Parliament. For having claimed credit in the first place, the media and print houses make hay (yelp) and come up with passionate editorials and panel discussions sounding like music on the ears of the subject being discussed – stray dogs!

Not to miss a platinum opportunity to protect and get these animals a decent standing in the society, the Blue Cross will come forward to spread the technology to every nook and corner of developing and economically weaker countries in the world with the support of UN, as an alternative policing method.

Bystander is ready to discuss the idea loudly to anyone willing to hear, now! He will let the TV channels and print houses to continue to claim credit as it will keep the public interest alive and bring the political parties in the race, to earn smooth electoral mileage.

Manju on the Wall.

This happened decades ago. Manju alias Manjula was about 2 ½ years old then.

She’s the daughter of a friend, who was my colleague. I used to borrow his bicycle for short rides to visit with other friends.

During these outings, before I could even say bye, Manju would be standing near the bicycle, hoping for a ride.

She would hop on to the baby seat, fixed between the handle bar and the rider’s saddle. My wife would be the pillion rider.

Soon our friends became Manju’s friends. This camaraderie was enough for her.

Even at that age she knew the rules of the road, always kept to her left. Every day at around 7 A.M., by keeping to the left side of the road, would come to our house carrying a bucket, towel, fresh clothes and soap.

My wife or I took turns to bathe and dress her up. My wife completed the facial make-up and hair styling.

We used wonder why she did not bring face powder, hair oil and comb! Nevertheless we three were happy with each other’s company.

Evenings and holidays were fun and frolic of an extraordinary kind. After the usual digging, planting and watering the garden, with equal efforts from her, she would declare it was time for play.

Manju liked the thrill of jumping off from the compound wall in to my outstretched hands. This was how we played ‘Manju on the compound wall’.

She stood poised like a swimmer on the diving board on the 4’ high garden wall. I stood back, with hands on my back, at a distance of about 3 to 4 feet.

I would start the count down from ten and then came the critical stage of acrobatics. With her supreme confidence in me, she would leap up.

And in a split-second operation, I would stretch my hands forward to catch her in mid-air. My sheer reflexes and her unassailable faith in my abilities made the game adventurous. This act would be repeated many times before she called it quits only wanting to engage me in the next equally dangerous act.

Yet again we used the compound wall to play this game. Manju would stand erect, with arms close to the body.

I would then hold her ankles together and lift her up head high. Instinctively she knew how to maintain the balance, by slowly spreading her arms sideways like wings of a bird in flight.

The downward trip would be faster and I managed to place her gently on to the wall. Her appreciation was based on the maximum time I could hold her aloft.

We named the next game, in the series, as the “flooring exercise”.  

All that I was called up on to do was to lift her vertically, holding the sides of her face between my palms, till her eyes came level with mine. Practically her entire body weight was being supported by my gripping palms. Her ears became red and it did not bother her at all.

All through these adventurous games, my wife stood guard, behind me, holding her breath.

She was worried that these games might injure the child and her parents might not allow her to come to our house for playing.

It turned out to be unfounded. All that mattered to Manju and me was the fun that we had with our acrobatics.

Thirty five years later, we met again in a marriage reception. Manju had come with her husband. We got talking about old times.

Obviously she might not have told her husband about those childhood adventures. He listened with rapt attention and a gleam of awe appeared in his eyes.

Carried away by enthusiasm, I went further and said, “Had I asked her to jump from a high rise building at that time, Manju would have simply done that!”

Hearing this, Manju’s husband mischievously said, “Uncle you should have just done that and I would have escaped this marriage!”  Laughing, Manju said, “It would have been just fine with me too!”

' How quickly time has passed by', was all I could muse about looking at Manju who stood smiling and poised.

Her poise roused in me the poignant memories of her father. I knew him, though for  a brief period, to be a considerate family man, an accomplished sportsman, an extrovert and an extraordinary culinary artist. These passing thoughts choked my emotions and thoughts about them lingered for a long time, that day.

Nellai Avudaiappan

The Muser started his career in a Chemical Company and shared a hall accommodation with Md.Mehrudeen, Avudaiappan and Ananth. Actually, the shared accommodation was allotted to a shift foreman, who kept the only-room to himself allowed us to share the hall. We mentally demarcated the space equally and stowed our meager possessions, such as a suitcase and bedding.

The Company was running 3 X 8 hour shifts. This is how it worked; a person starting in 0600 to 1400 hr shift does so for six days continuously and gets off (holiday) on the seventh day of the week. This off could fall on any one of the days of the week, depending on when the shift started/ended. The coming week the employee comes in the night shift (2200 to 0600 hr) for the next six days.

This transition of shifts was eagerly awaited by all the shift goers – it gave them about 56 hrs of free time called long-off (this is different from the fielding setting in cricket).

We traveled overnight to reach our houses, so as to enjoy 30 to 40 hours of good food, not to mention the company of friends back at home.

Amongst the four of us, only Avudaiappan had to travel a little longer to reach Thirunelveli. The other three used to eagerly await his return, after the long-off. There lay the plot for this narration.

Having lost her husband, Avudaiappan’s mother showered little more affection on him-being the youngest. She used pack about 3 kg of sweets, consisting of Nellai special “halwa” and other homemade varieties. Probably Avudaiappan had told his mother about the three more eager mouths which would be watering in anticipation. She used pack the sweets in a dried palmyrah–leaf basket and send her son off.

Muser craved for sweets, like Tom Sawyer “he did not ask for more”, probably feeling shy, yet the bud-teasing taste of sweets worked stronger than his will power. Not able to keep his urge in check, at the stroke of midnight, he searched for the sweet basket, opened the lid of the basket as humanly gently possible. He took out three slabs of sweet and then proceeded to relish them one by one. His taste buds as well as heart were already soaring. When he was into the third piece, the hall light turned on suddenly. His three friends, probably woken up by the gentlest of sound made when the basket was opened, stood looking at him in wonder. Then they burst in to a hearty laugh and did not stop till their eyes started watering.

Muser stood before them, caught red handed and shamed. For days together the three friends used to gang up to tease the muser and laughed to their hearts content. They nick named the muser as “Sweet Owl” and “Night Raider”. Avudaiappan chose to call the muser as “the Sweet Rat”. Gentleman that he was, he started to bring in a special packet for muser every time he went home for long-off!

Years later, whenever the Muser visited ‘the old Company’ for material-inspection, he always met up with Avudaiappan and his wife. On one such occasion, Avudaiappan fondly recollected the Sweet Rat incident. His wife appeared perplexed (as she was not aware of this incident) when both me & Avudaiappan laughed it out.

Cracks on the wall.

On a sweltering summer day, Quick-tongue visited his friends in their work place. Due to closeness, the friends started airing the difficulties they were having with one of their bosses. Quick-tongue sympathetically heard them for awhile. One of the friends, in exasperation said “I think he has become a crack

due to this summer heat”. At this point, the Boss suddenly entered and on hearing the word crack became very serious and asked to know “who is the crack?”

Friends were really taken aback and were at a loss to handle the mess they have just created by uttering the word crack.

Years back, Quick-tongue also had gotten into a similar mess for uttering an innocent comment in a mess hall. Drawing up on that experience, he had the presence of mind to reply that they were discussing about the appearance of cracks in the concrete wall.

Quick-tongue then had to really survey the concrete wall to show a very minor invisible crack on the cement plastering. Though not fully convinced, this mollified the Boss a little.

Friends thanked and gave a treat to quick-tongue for his presence of mind!

[The narrative though set in a specific environment , could have taken place in a property developer's office. This setting helps the reader spin their own yarn :) ]

The novel buff.

A dim-wit can be troublesome at times. The following episode amply demonstrates a pleasant mess he can create.

A particular solvent is to be used as thinner for a specific spray coating material. The dim-wit in the facility was an avid reader of fictions. Being deeply moved by the possible carcinogenic effects of the above said solvent decided to do some thing about it.

He was impatient or unsure about the acceptance of his bookish knowledge. He was biding for an opportune time. This arrived when his seniors were out-of station. Basis his opinion, he took a unilateral decision and substituted the deadly solvent with a lesser harmful solvent. When this operation was being carried out, the panama cap man was on hand to witness the same.The man who had a nose for rain certainly did not miss the change in the odour of the solvent. Immediately he called the dim-wit and asked “Did you change the solvent?”

On hearing the affirmative answer, the normally pleasant mannered man got disturbed and phoned up his superior at the stroke of mid-night (we are night-birds you see). From  the one-sided conversation , the dim-wit understood that he has committed  a foolish act, though with the of best intention in mind. The panama cap man hung up the phone saying “now nothing can be done as the change has been made”

Next day the dim-wit received a tongue-lashing on violation of authority and protocols. Later on, this issue was discussed in higher forums and was ratified as a good change.

But the panama cap man was the first to acknowledge that the change has been made. He later asked the dim-wit to give him the title and page reference of the novel that catalysed the change!

[The narrative though set in a specific environment , could have taken place in a paint manufacturer's test lab. This setting helps the reader spin their own yarn :) ]