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ഫെബ്രുവരി 2021. ഹൂസ്റ്റണ് കുറിപ്പ്

ആറു മാസങ്ങൾക്കു മുൻപ് അമേരിക്കയിലേക്ക്.  പറന്നെത്തിയത്‌ അത്യടിയന്തര സാഹചര്യത്തിൽ.   ഏഴു മാസം മാത്രം പ്രായമെത്തിയ പേരാക്കിടവ് ലൂമിയുടെ പരിപാലനം വഴി മുട്ടിയത് ആയിരുന്നു സാഹചര്യം. അവളുടെ അച്ഛനും, ഞങ്ങളുടെ മകനും ആയ ഡോ. അനുപം കുമാർ ഒരു പ്രമുഖ ആസ്‌.പത്രിയിലെ കോവിഡ് മുൻ നിര പോരാളി. 'അമ്മ ഡോ. അപർണ  മറ്റൊരു തിരക്കേറിയ ട്രെയിനിങ്  ആസ്പത്രിയിൽ ഫെല്ലോഷിപ്പ് ചെയ്യുന്നു. ലുമിയുടെ പരിപാലനത്തിന് ഏർപ്പെടുത്തിയ  ആയ (nanny ) ഏർപ്പാടുകൾ   പരാജയപ്പെട്ടു.       ആറര മണിക്ക് വീട്ടിൽ നിന്നിറങ്ങി ഏഴു മണിക്ക് ശേഷം മടങ്ങിയെത്തുന്ന അച്ഛനമ്മമാർക്ക് ലുമിയെ എങ്ങനെ വളർത്താൻ ആകും?. സുഹൃത്തുക്കളുടെ സഹായം കൊണ്ടു അല്പം കൂടി പിടിച്ചു നിന്നു.

രണ്ടേ രണ്ടു മാർഗ്ഗമേ ഇനി ഉള്ളു. വിസ കൈയിലുള്ള ഞങ്ങൾ അവിടെ എത്തണം. അല്ലെങ്കിൽ, വളരെ മോഹിച്ചും പരിശ്രമിച്ചും നേടിയ ഫെല്ലോഷിപ് പരിശീലനം അപർണ ഉപേക്ഷിക്കണം.

ഞങ്ങൾ എത്തിയെ മതിയാകൂ. ഗാർഹിക ചുമതലകൾ, തൊഴിൽ ഭംഗം തുടങ്ങിയവ പരിഗണിക്കാതെ     വിടാം എന്നു കരുതി.     യാത്രാ സാധ്യത, സംവിധാനം എന്നിവയിൽ തികഞ്ഞ അനിശ്ചിതത്വം. ദീർഘ ദൂര വിമനയാത്രയിലെ കോവിഡ്  ബാധയുടെ ആശങ്ക,  ഞങ്ങളെ ക്കാൾ  അലട്ടിയ ബന്ധു മിത്രാദികളുടെ നിരുത്സാഹപ്പെടുത്തൽ.....  എല്ലാം അതിജീവിച്ചു ,    തടസങ്ങളോടെ മുപ്പത്തിയഞ്ചു മണിക്കൂർ യാത്ര ചെയ്തു ചിക്കാഗോയിൽ ഇറങ്ങി.  അല്പം സാഹസികമായി  യാത്ര ചെയ്ത്ഒരു സന്തോഷം.

 ട്രംപ് ഭരിക്കുന്ന അമേരിക്കയിൽ  ടെസ്റ്റ്, ക്വറന്റിന് ഒന്നും വേണ്ട.   ഒരു ചെറിയ  ഫ്ലാറ്റ് വാടകയ്ക് എടുത്ത്  ഒരാഴ്ച സ്വമേധയാ ക്വറന്റിനിൽ കഴിഞ്ഞു. അതിനു ശേഷം ഹൂസ്റ്റണിൽ ലുമിയുടെ സമീപം എത്തി.

അരമണിക്കൂർ സമയം തന്റെ കുഞ്ഞിക്കണ്ണുകളാൽ നോക്കി  എന്തോ ഒക്കെ  ഉറപ്പുവരുത്തിയ ശേഷം ലൂമി കൈയിൽ വന്നു.

അഞ്ചാം ദിവസം. ക്ഷണക്കാത്ത  അതിഥി ആയി ലാറ എത്തി. അത്തരം ഒന്നിനെ പരിചയം ഇല്ല - ലാറ കൊടുങ്കാറ്റു.!  

ബാത് ടബ്ബുകളിൽ   എല്ലാം  വെള്ളം നിറച്ച്, മെഴുകുതിരികളും ആഹാരാദികളും കരുതി, ലുമിയെ കൈകളിൽ മാറി മാറി എടുത്തു മൂന്നു ദിനരാത്രങ്ങൾ പിന്നിട്ടു.  അല്പം കാറ്റും മഴയും ഹൂസ്റ്റണ് നൽകി, വഴി മാറിയ ലാറ,   അയലത്തുള്ള ലൂസിയാനയെ തകർത്തെറിഞ്ഞു

. മൂന്നു മാസം കഴിഞ്ഞെത്തുന്ന അമേരിക്കൻ പ്രസിഡന്റ് തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പിന്റെ പടയൊരുക്കം  തുടങ്ങിയിരുന്നു. ധാർഷ്ട്യവും മൗഢ്യവും മുറ്റിയ ട്രമ്പിനെ മാറ്റുക എളുപ്പമല്ലെന്ന തോന്നൽ കനപ്പെട്ടു. അയാൾ പ്രതി നിധീകരിക്കുന്ന  കുടിയേറ്റ വിരോധവും, വർണവിദ്വേഷവും  അമേരിക്കൻ സമൂഹത്തിൽ ആഴത്തിൽ  ഒഴുകുന്നു.

അപ്രസക്തം ആയി കഴിഞ്ഞെങ്കിലും, ഇനിയും മരിച്ചിട്ടില്ലാത്ത ഒരു രാഷ്ട്രീയ ജീവി ഉള്ളിൽ കുടികൊള്ളുന്ന എനിക്ക് ഉത്സാഹമായി. അമേരിക്കൻ ചരിത്ര  ത്തെ   കുറിച്ചുണ്ടായിരുന്ന അറിവുകൾ കുറേക്കൂടി വായിച്ചു വിപുലമാക്കി. കോവിഡ് കാലത്തു പുറത്തിറങ്ങി   തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പ്  പഠിക്കാൻ  കഴിയില്ലല്ലോ. കോവിഡിനെ ബാലിശമായി പരിഹസിച്ചും വെല്ലുവിളിച്ചും ട്രമ്പും കൂട്ടരും  നടത്തുന്ന റാലികൾ ടി.വിയിൽ സ്ഥിരം കാഴ്ചയായി. ചിലപ്പോഴൊക്കെ ജനാലയിൽ കൂടി അവ നേരിട്ടും കണ്ടു. രാഷ്ട്രീയത്തിലും സമൂഹത്തിലും താല്പര്യം നിലനിറ്റ്ത്തു ന്നവരായ  അപൂർവം അമേരിക്കൻ സുഹൃത്തുക്കളുമായി ഫോണിൽ കൂടി സംവദിച്ചു. അനിശ്ചിതത്വം പ്രവചിക്കപ്പെട്ടിട്ടും, ഒരു നാട്ടിൻപുറത് തുകാരന്റെ ശുദ്ധഗതിയോടെ,  ട്രൂമ്പിന്റെ പതനം കാത്തിരുന്നു.

അമേരിക്കൻ തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പിന്റെയും ഫല  നിര്ണയത്തിന്റെയും വളവു തിരിവുകൾ കണ്ടപ്പോൾ ഇന്ത്യൻ തിരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പിന്റെ മഹത്വം തിരിച്ചറിഞ്ഞു. , .

ഫല പ്രഖ്യാപനത്തിന്റെ  നാളുകൾ അടിമ വിമോചനത്തിന്റെ.  അവസാന യുദ്ധത്തിലൂടെ ചരിത്രത്തിൽ ഇടം നേടിയ ഗാലവിസ്റ്റൻ ബേയിൽ  ചെലവിട്ടു.  ബൈഡൻ ഹാരിസ് വിജയം തത്സമയം   ടി. വി യിൽ കാണിരിക്കവേ, ലൂമി കാർപെറ്റിൽ ആദ്യ ചുവടുകൾ വച്ചു നടന്നത് ഇരട്ടി സന്തോഷമായി.

 ജനുവരി ആറിനു ട്രംപ് അനുയായികൾ    കാപിറ്റോൾ വളപ്പിൽ നടത്തിയ അക്രമം അസ്വസ്ഥത പകർന്നു. ഇന്ത്യൻ രാഷ്ട്രീയം ഇത്ര താഴ്ന്നിട്ടില്ല എന്നു തെല്ലഭ്മാനിച്ചു.  (കൃത്യം ഇരുപതു.   ദിവസങ്ങൾക്ക് ശേഷം ചെങ്കോട്ടയിൽ പാറുന്ന സിക്ക്  പതാക കണ്ടപ്പോൾ അഭിമാനം പിൻവാങ്ങി.).

 അമേരിക്കൻ രാഷ്ട്ട്രീയത്തെ സ്ക്രീനിൽ കൂടിയാണെങ്കിലും തത്സമയം  കണ്ടറിഞ്ഞത്  എന്നിലെ രാഷ്ട്രീയ ജീവിയെ  സന്തോഷിപ്പ്ച്ചു.

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ശരീരം കൊണ്ടും മനസ്സു കൊണ്ടും ലുമിയും, അവളുടെ  സ്നേഹവും വളരുന്നത്   അനുനിമിഷം  കണ്ടറിഞ്ഞു. പാട്ടും പദങ്ങളും കേട്ടും, ചുണ്ടിൽ നോക്കിയും അവൾ  എന്നെ പരിചയപ്പെട്ടു. കണ്ണിലും മുഖഭാവങ്ങളിലും ചലനങ്ങളിലും  കൂടി തന്റെ നിലപാടുകളും ആവസ്യങ്ങളും ഇങ്ഗിതങ്ങളും വെളിപ്പെടുത്താൻ അവൾ പ്രാപ്തി നേടി. ശരീരവും ശബ്ദവും നോട്ടവും അസംസ്‌കൃത വസ്തുക്കൾ  ആയി  ഉപയോഗിച്ചു  കൊണ്ട്   തന്റെ  ആവിഷ്കാര   പരിധി വികസിപ്പിക്കാനും,  അതു  തന്റെ ബോധത്തിൽ ചേര്ക്കാനുമുള്ള അവളുടെ ശ്രമങ്ങൾ  എനിക്ക്  കൗതുകവും ഉന്മേഷവും  പകർന്നു നൽകി.    ( നാല്   സ്വന്തം കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളെ   നിരവധി വർഷങ്ങൾ  നിരന്തരം നിരീക്ഷിച്ചു   കൊണ്ട്  ശൈശവ കാലത്തെ ചിന്താവികാസം  നിർവചിച്ച  പിയാഷെ ( Jean Piaget ) എന്ന മഹാനായ മനസ്സാസ്ത്രൻജെനോട്  അളവറ്റ ആദരം     ഒരിക്കൽ കൂടി   തോന്നി.).  

അമേരിക്കൻ രാഷ്ട്രീയം,  തത്സമയ പ്രതിഛായ ( Virtual real time) ആയും,  ശൈശവത്തിലെ ലോകത്തിന്റെ വ്യാപ്തിയും സാന്ദ്രതയും രൂപഭാവങ്ങളും  വികസിക്കുന്നത്,  പ്രത്യക്ഷ തത്സമയം (Real real time )ആയും ,  കണ്ടറിഞ്ഞത് ഹൃദ്യമായ അനുഭവം ആയി.

കുറെ വായിക്കാനും, കുറിക്കാനും മനസ്സിൽ മയങ്ങിക്കിടന്ന ഇഷ്ടഗാനങ്ങൾ പാടാനും കഴിഞ്ഞതും സംതൃപ്തി നൽകി. 

നാട്ടിൽ ചിലവിട്ട  2020 ലെ ആദ്യ മാസങ്ങൾ പോലെ, അമേരിക്കയിലെ ആറു മാസകാലവും ,  ജീവിതത്തിന്റെ വിലപ്പെട്ട പല ഇഴകളും ഈണങ്ങളും, കോവിഡ്  മൂലം എനിക്ക് നഷ്ടമായി. അതിനിടയിൽ കിട്ടിയ ഈ ഹൃദ്യമായ അനുഭവങ്ങൾ ഞാൻ മനസ്സിൽ  സൂക്ഷിക്കട്ടെ. 

Dr. K. A. Kumar

drkakumar@gmail.com

    

Drishyam 2....Viewed and felt: Dr.K.A.Kumar

 DRISHYAM..2: The Feel and Fabric

Dr.K.A.Kumar 

drkakumar@gmail.com

Drishyam 2 did not disappoint while seeing,  the viewer being positive about the Jithu Joseph craft and also prepared for the drag in the first half,  an energized build up in the second and an invigorating esthetic experience ,over all. However, the expectation of a higher level film experience than its predecessor masterpiece did not get fulfilled.

The script  does not have the density  gradient as in Drishyam(.1). This stems from the weakness of supporting  characters, redundant theme folds and a  rather nebulous synthesis of the story threads. The mortuary attender  and the rickshaw drivers  are  unconvincing and shallow. Even the key witness Jose remains amorphous, seen from his projected contribution in the consummation of the plot. This is in sharp contrast with the first film.  The Police Officer Joseph engaging the teen aged son of his friend as an informer is an example of redundant and superfluous theme folds; there are many. The thread of publishing of the novel, dilatory tactics of finalizing the film script and moulding the escape plot illustrate nebulous weaving of the film's narrative. 

These observations emerge from a closer look at the film structure, and an expectation of creative excellence from Jithu Joseph, generated by  the quality of   his earlier film which enthralled all genre of film lovers in the country. This closer look can be assailed as  hypercritical , and  the expectation of excellence unrealistic, while assessing a movie sequele to a masterpiece crime story. The fact remains that, a discerning film viewer is justified in expecting excellence from the gifted movie maker, Jithu Joseph.

The unique and unbeatable metric and timing of Mohanlal,  as expected, is seen in many parts of the film. The abrupt freezing and slow kinetics of recovery, at the moment of knowing about the police excavation of the police station is the best of these. This particular scene is one of the best of its kind, ever seen in the Indian screen. The Great Actor in Mohanlal retains his Class, as  Prithwiraj has stated. Murali Gopi also performs well in expressing the lateral glow of an atypical police officer convincingly. Siddique brings out the grace and goodness of his character fairly well. Meena, Ganesh Kumar, Asha Sarath, Ashiba, Esther,and Sai Kumar have done fairly.

Drishyam 2 pleases, but fail to surpass the predecessor in  creative consummation and artistic excellence. While the latter retains its position as the masterpiece movie of Jithu Joseph, it reaffirms his mastery on the film craft. 

Pursuit of Promise: The Obama Story

 Pursuit of Promise: the Obama Story

('A Promised Land' :Barack Obama- a brief review

Dr. K. A. Kumar

During the first summer of the millennium, on  9/11 when the Twin Tower  tumbled down and New York shuddered   under the  heinous lethal might of Terrorism, Michelle Obama was taking Malia to her first day in pre.school at Chicago.  Later  on the day the three month old Sasha was lying relaxed on the  chest of her father ,as the latter sat  pondering on  shattered dream of an America he nurtured all along- an America that stands for all that is noble and best in human beings. The sense of safety and security  for millions of citizens got  torn apart in US, while the faith in the progress of human civilization evaporated all over the world on that  dreadful  day.

Tenth  year since that disaster,   Barack Obama, now in the third year of his presidency, along with his core group in the government, was watching  online at the White House, the execution of the highly challenging task of capturing Osama Bin Laden from his high secure hide out,  thousands of miles away at   Abbottabad in Pakistan. Capturing and annihilating Bin Laden, the mastermind of 9/11 and  gruesome IS terrorist acts  all over the world was entrusted to the highly skilled Navy SEAL Special Op Team, after thorough deliberations and preparations running for months. The success of  the mission, through  a precise and perfect operation  as watched on the screen brought  a great mix of joy and relief, to the select few assembled there  in the White House, with their breath held and prayers in  silence.

 Through the window, president Obama could watch hundreds of citizens gathering in Pennsylvania Avenue with joy, excitement-and proud chants .' US..US..US...'.This act of benevolent annihilation, endeared  his government to the people,more than many benevolent acts undertaken  till then. Even at the hour of  joy and fulfilment, the Administrator Obama observes this disparity in public response.  Understandable, given human nature and the blistering wound sustained by  every single American on 9/11, and the hurt and humiliation he carried within him since then- the political thinker in Obama, resolves the contradiction with this bit of a thought. A 6.ft.2inches tall  member of the Special Op team was made to lie beside and parallel to the dead body, to verify whether it really belonged to the 6 ft 4inch tall Bin Laden, for want of a measuring tape in the Team's possession.   Watching this on screen,the behaviourist thinker in Obama,   gets convinced that even the  best of human projects, carried out meticulously   need not  be zero error endeavours.

The diverse perspectives and vantage points of the author and composite dimensions of his narration,  as  delineated  above, are  discernible with respect to many events and situations  presented in the 701 paged book, 'A Promised Land' by Barack Obama, and makes it an outstanding Autobiography of our times.

Obama starts from the genesis of his dream of America , how it evolved into the concept of a promised land, and entered into his inner self as a pledge and got into  his public life as a mission. He describes in graphic detail his  ascent through the convoluted conduits of everyday politics, and the labyrinthine corridors of the legislative and executive realms of governance. As for Governance, Obama delineates the dialectics of private and public interests surrounding and impinging on major issues ,and the dynamics of decision making at the  US Presidency. This detailing of political and governance experience provides excellent case study material for any reader with active interest in, and passion for higher learning in Politics and  Public Administration. But for  an average general reader, not  sharing such an interest, this elaboration( that accounts for about a quarter of the volume of the book), may appear as  flab and dispensable. 

But any category of a reader, however, seeks in an  autobiography, portrayal of the  blending  of essential human aspects  of the narrator with the activities he undertook during his life.  The author here presents   his intrapsychic and interpersonal  world, impinging on, and derived from the world of action and reaction he navigates, in a free.flowing non.linear narration.  When the author concerned was a head of a modern state,  who occupied the most powerful elected office in our Democratic World , the story evolves as a lived in history  of not just citizens of the country he governed, but also of other peoples and nations to varying extent. Seen from this perspective, this book emerges as one of the  most valuable and significant contributions in the genre of  political, administrative and diplomatic  biographies, of  all times.

Whether  and to what extend Barack Obama succeeded to approximate his country to the Promised Land he dreamt and visioned, would continue to be a subject of study for historians and political scientists for a long time. But it is undeniable, as he states in the Preface to the book, any dispassionate reader can make out, that he strived with all the resources at his command, and all the time and energy available to him during his focused political career and historical presidency during the first two decades of the 21st century. With a fine balance of passion and objectivity he narrates the   first part of the story of his pursuit of the promised land in a vibrant lucid prose.

 'A Promised Land' , hopefully, would gain wide reach and reading, across countries and continents, where Democracy is sustained and sought after, and it's essence and practice form  the  main content of social and political discourse.

.............................................................................

drkakumar@gmail.com

FLAG and FURY

 From Houston TX 

 26th January 2021

Watching the mainstream Indian TV, heart was aching and thoughts were getting muddled. The sight of  a factional  flag, flying beside the National Tricolour from the ramparts of the Red Fort, the citadel of Nation, was a bit too much,even with cumulative cynicism of all these years. The rights or wrongs of Farmer agitation notwithstanding, the shameful turn it  took was deeply hurting. 

Twenty days ago, from the mainstream US TV , I could watch the citadel of American Democracy-the Capitol Hill,  getting subjected to a similar,but more draconian mob violence. With no citizen status or personal stake here, I got agitated. I felt a certain sense of relief and contentment that despite its many material wants and  demographic complexities,   such a thoughtless agitative action has never happened in my country.  

 The nation  here(US )woke up with a vigour and resolve to take decisive remedial measures. Legislative and Executive leaders of the people established the rule of law and  ensured the sustenance of Democracy. This brought a sense of relief and admiration to me, as for many -not yet time to write obituaries on Democracy.

Independence Day and Republic Day entered the ramparts of my mind from childhood onwards,as I remember. In the village school where I have had my upper primary education, there were flag hoisting and  festivities with limited resources. As our family moved to Trivandrum for my college education, I started regularly going to the Stadium, to attend the State level programmes on Independence Day lead by Chief Minister and on the Republic Day by the Governor of Kerala. I would discard the laziness of  the holiday morning and rush up to reach the venue on time. This used to surprise my parents and many friends, and had even gained some derisive comments. I remember some of my friends angrily pointing out that this 'show of patriotism' is at variance with my professed 'progressive ideas' , and that either it was my hypocrisy or  foolishness to carry with me both  these incompatible elements together. I did not get dissuaded by these criticisms and continued attending parades on Independence and Republic Days,  till I completed my College studies at Trivandrum.

  I have wondered, with no intrinsic affinity or appetite for rituals, ceremonies or festivities, what sustained my interest in these twice.a.year schedules. Possibly, I had been deriving some sense of belonging or significance as a citizen, rather than showing a stiff dose of ritualistic patriotism' or  glorified nationalism, so to say. When I moved to Bangalore for my MD studies at NIMHANS the practice ceased.

I have had an occasion to watch the famous Republic Day Parade in Delhi, sometime in 1990s. With a pass obtained through Sri. PK Vasudevan Nair MP, I could sit on a VIP chair and watch the grand show. Honestly, it did not please or  thrill me as the simple gentle ceremonies I  have had watched, sitting on people's galleries, back home at Trivandrum. Possibly, that is a place  and position, I have defined for myself, as a democratic citizen.

Long after I ceased my visits to the ceremonial parades of the Independence Day and the Republic Day in Trivandrum, the imageries and feelings of sitting on those galleries and watching those ceremonies used to revisit me. They have not stopped altogether even now.

I felt certain shaking and tumbling inside, watching the happenings in Delhi on this Republic Day. I can  try console myself reminding myself of the flags and furies seen scattered in different times and places in history. I can bolden myself  stating-times are changed,  present issues are more serious, democracy needs more churning etc etc.

But the fact remains- some thing hurting and humiliating has happened to me, as an Indian, on this Republic Day.

Dr. K. A. Kumar

Trivandrum.695004

drkakumar@gmail.com

DEMOCRACY: Let Obituaries WAIT

 From Houston TX , 13th January 2021

Watching   full length, the abc's live telecast of the Congressional Debate on the Motion for Impeachment of president Donald J Trump today, I could sense the dimensions of public anger and the determination and decisiveness of a Legislature to save the  essence and honour of  the Nation's Democracy. The opening speech of the  speaker Nancy Pelosi and the closing speech of Congressman Steny Hoyer presented the gravity of the constitutional crime the president had committed. It was notable that none of the speakers from the Republican side  disputed the gravity of the charge. They questioned the lawfulness of a summary sentencing through a  snap  impeachment,  it's urgency when  the president is exiting in a week and it's necessity when he has assured a smooth seamless transfer of office. Many of the  ultra brief speeches were precise,hard.hitting  and bullet.like.  None of them overstepped the time slot or pleaded for more time, as seen routinely in Legislatures in India. The standing  homage paid to the  Capitol police officer, who lost his life on  duty, while containing the violence unleashed on 6th of January was touching.

As the Impeachment Motion trailed through the electronic voting,  before getting passed with a 35 votes margin, my mind retraced the course of American politics I could witness on real time and virtual space during the last few months. My onward journey in August 2020 was  an urgent adventurous mission  to reach US to take care of our infant granddaughter and relieve the distress and agony of my son and daughter ( in law ), both of whom are physicians struggling with tight and trying work schedules in their hospitals. I was aware of the  forthcoming US election and bit thrilled about getting a chance to witness it from within the country. Being absolutely confined to indoors, I could watch it only on the TV. I was able to palpate the socio.political divide deepening in the American Society and it's sinister consequences to the life of the people of the blessed country. With no personal stakes or mandate, I nurtured an expectation that the election in November 2020 would enable that  people to rectify the deviance in polity.

We chose to watch the telecast of the election results in a home stay in the  Galviston Bay, where the history throbs with memory of the final  phase of Emancipation from Slavery. As the results trickled out and gathered momentum,  the choice of our location to receive such an electoral verdict delighted me. The sight of our little granddaughter Lumi, putting forth her first steps on the carpet, as the telecast of the expected election results progressed, added to the delight of the occasion.

Subsequent weeks clouded my joy. But I hoped like many millions that orchestrated controversies would settle and people's verdict will  certainly prevail.

What we witnessed on 6th of January in Capitol hill was shocking to even a person like me who is familiar with street violence and  muscle.run politics of our country.  It was saddening for me who could never master the skill to ignore  Politics, even when I realise it hardly influences my material life directly. Probably, a mindset I imbibed during the formative second and third decades of my life, growing in the humanistic socio.political mileu of Kerala, the southern most State of India, explains that inability.

That exactly one week after that , the Representatives of People made a  legislative response, to uphold the dignity and integrity of Democracy is reassuring.The legal standing of the decision or its consequences is beyond me and the scope of this write up. The promptness and decisiveness of the response is heartening to one who feels,  seeks  and finds a gentle flow of cool air as he breaths.

Incidentally, this was my longest stay in US. Almost totally confined indoors, and all communication limited through phone or internet, it deprived me leisurely car rides -as during stays in the past, through the beautiful landscapes of the Country that I adore.

In contrast, and to compensate, this winter 2020/2021 especially the November and the first two weeks of the January  presented to me, closer views of the socio.political landscapes of the Country.

Let Obituaries and Postscripts on Democracy WAIT

Dr. K. A.Kumar

Trivandrum.695004

drkakumar@gmail.com

.Teacher Inside-GKW: Dr.K.A.Kumar

 Dr.G.KWarrier,   GKW as referred by his peers, colleagues and students in medical colleges of Trivandrum, Calicut and Kottayam  for over three decades from early1960s, was undoubtedly one of the most brilliant clinicians and medical teachers, I could get to know. Let me be  more precise, using the Singular here- he was the most brilliant, in both respects.

When we entered clinical studies as third year medicos in Trivandrum Medical College in 1966, Professor Ananthachary was just leaving,  and Prof. K. N. Pai was  taking over as Head of the Department of General Medicine.GKW was Professor and Chief of the Second Unit (M2 Unit).  I was not posted in his Unit. There was occasional references to the clinical brilliance of GKW in the hospital dialogues. I used to envy my classmates, who got clinical posting in his Unit. Several weeks passed, with out myself being able to get a glimpse of GKW, for which I longed ever since start of clinical posting.

The  occasion arrived unexpectedly, in an unexpected setting. We were being taken to witness an autopsy in hospital mortuary.As our Pathology teacher was explaining the autopsy procedure, I noted a middle aged bespectacled person, standing beside, pulling out and closely examining loops of intestine from the open abdomen of the dissected dead body, oblivious of all of us there. Some one whispered into my ear- here is Dr. GKW you have been longing to meet. As we were planning to leave after the class, I could see him sitting  beside a table, making some notes.

Steeling some time off my regular Unit postings, I have joined his ward rounds a couple of times. Standing behind the regulars in the Unit,I could get to receive only part of what he taught bedside. But that itself pleased me much.

Later,when  he arrived in medicine lecture to take classes, I was delighted to sit  steady and take in,  as much as I could. He would sit on the table top and continue for several minutes on the topic he had seized upon. I remember a particular class, which he started by pulling out a sheet of newspaper from his trouser pocket ( he used to wear his pants like loose trousers, belted around his belly  with lateralized buckles) and reading an oft.repeated quack advertisement in it, about a miracle medicine to cure the 'serious ill.effects of semen loss'. He traced the origin of this superstition, and how it prevailed on, down the ages. I do not know whether he has published it anywhere; if so, it would have been the best write.up on the topic. I remember one of his classes, in which he started with a mention of one sixth molar lactate and went on to give a half hour exposition on foundations of Physical Chemistry.

I have  also heard of him showing Kathakali mudras, making dance steps,chanting slokas, rendering song bits in the class etc, to bring home some basic aspects of the topic in hand. That made his classes inspirational  free.flowing  academic transactions.

In the fourth year, by some curious shuffling in Medicine office,  I could get a clinical posting in his Unit. I did not know how it happened, but was overwhelmed.  It gave me more opportunities to learn directly, albeit briefly, from the great clinical teacher that he was.

 Cigarette smoking was part of an elite male cultural stereotype then, and doctors' smoking in hospital insides, was common. Being a chain smoker, GKW would be seen smoking frequently in his OP and during ward rounds. Most often, he would be seen standing on the bedside of the patient,with  his left  foot elevated and rested on the bedside chair, and smoking vigorously, while discussing the case to his assistants and trainees, gathered around. Hazy rings and curls of smoke would hover over the patient's bed and the gathering around. The awareness about passive smoking was not yet born then, leave alone the terminology. I am sharing this mental image, not to criticize GKW in any way,but to highlight the attitude to smoking in society then, from which even eminent doctors were not immune. 

On and off we would hear about his brilliant diagnostic feats, adding to his status as a living legend. Specifics of many of these were beyond my comprehension, being an undergraduate medical student.

          *.          *.          *.          *.         *.        

Having many friends outside medical college and being a day.scholar, I used to go regularly for evening walks with my friends in city roads. The Statue Road in front of the Secretariat was our meeting point. One day, I  could glance by chance, GKW emerging from the British Council Library , with a heap of books held on his arm.side and reading the book held open in his other hand, as he walked on the pavement. I could gain his attention. He recognised me. I offered to carry the books and accompany him till VJT  Hall, where his car was parked.

'Kumar, as a young guy you should walk free, swinging your arms. Not yet time to walk with groceries or bundles on your hand- books no exception,  especially for those who do not need them'.

 His eyes blinked a bit, beneath his thick glasses and his face glowed in the benign  mischievous smile- an expression invariably seen whenever he made a sarcastic statement.

Any way, he gave a few of the books for me to carry and welcomed me to accompany him. Reaching the VJT Hall he wanted me to join him for a cup of coffee. While waiting for the snacks, and while eating too ,his eyes did not leave the page of the book, kept open on the table. On and off,  he would close the book and talk.

( Later I heard from Dr.Jacob Chandy of CMC, Vellore about the reading habit of young GKW, when he was a first year MBBS student. He would come to Anatomy class, with pages of Gray's Anatomy, copied in a notebook and keep placing questions to teachers-many of them would retreat tactfully to escape his barrage of questions. 

My occasions of  pavement  companionship with GKW happened a couple of times more. Eapen Samuel, my close friend and an ardent admirer of GKW, came to know of this and  infiltrated  into some of my evening sojourns with GKW.  Learning about my interest in  Malayalam literature,GKW used to discuss with me about  some malayalam books, once a while. Eapen did not like it, as his malayalam reading did not have anything  beyond newspaper,  and would try to channalise GKWs talk to science, technology , sports etc. GKW would satisfy both of us in turn, as he pleased. No subject under the Sun, was unfamiliar to him. (subjects beyond Sun probably was no different ). 

The Annapoorna Wheat House, Trivandrum Hotel and Aruna Hotel were the places where, we could sit with GKW with a cup of coffee, a couple of times. The privilege of  occasional personal contact with  the iconic GKW outside the College, while having only a fringe contact with him in hospital, (being  just a graduate medical student)  made me proud and joyful.

It was a time when, I was reading psychology and psychiatry informally.Once, I told GKW about my liking to go for training in Psychiatry. He discouraged me vehemently. He advised me to do MD in General Medicine,  do Neurology, and  think of Psychiatry, if  I  retain my interest in Psychiatry at that stage.

Early during the  time of our  clinical training , GKW was not doing any private practice(that was allowed for medical teachers). Subsequently, he announced starting of private practice, in  a city nursing home. Within a couple of months his private practice spiked. The story goes that he donated his second hand car to his driver, and bought a new one, within  one year of starting private practice.

He was transferred to Medical College, Calicut during our Internship, terminating our contact with him. We used to receive glittering reports of his work there. During that period once I could get a chance to meet him on a train journey and talk  with him for several minutes. I felt some change in his talk and mood, but could not infer its nature or significance.

My last meeting with him was at NIMHANS, Bangalore, few years later. The details of that meeting does not form part of this narrative.

I am not sure whether the news of his demise a few years later, threw me into an emotional grief. But his permanent exit from the arena of Clinical Medicine in Kerala was felt a heavy personal loss by me, just as by many ones, who had the good fortune to be his students and his junior colleagues.

Apart from the clinical lessons, perhaps I imbibed from GKW the inspirational free.flowing  trend of  medical teaching, (which got further strengthened  later under the influence of Dr.R.M.Varma, my teacher at NIMHANS) . Despite lacking his reading range and scholarship, this model of teaching of GKW probably percolated into me.

That essentially is GKW as Teacher inside me.

Dr. K. A. Kumar

Trivandrum.695004

drkakumar@gmail.com

FELLOWS and FOOTSTEPS in Indian Psychiatry: Personal Beads of Memory:- Dr.K.A.Kumar. Former National President, Indian Psychiatrist Society

 My association with the IndianPsychiatric Society spans  over four decades and leaves many beads of memory about its eminent Fellows and t Footsteps  in my mind.

It was in 1974, during the Annual Conference  held at All India Institute of Mental Health (the  precursor of NIMHANS), Bangalore, that I came into contact with the Organization.As a second year MD trainee I enrolled as an Associate Student Member. More significantly, I was made the Captain of the tiny Hospitality Volunteer Team and Member of Publicity Team by Dr.RMVarma our Director and Dr.ASMahal our Professor (Chairman and Organizing Secretary of the Conference). The Institute  then was a small establishment, with  students countable in two digits and staff with fingers of two hands. The Association  also was tiny, attendance was thin and resources meagre  on those days.The task of receiving the VIP Guests at the Airport or Railway Station on arrival, escorting them to the hotels or guesthouses  and places of their visits,  given to the Hospitality Team was neither easy nor pleasant, with limited number of vehicles and expenditure allowance available for us.

On the morning of the day previous to the inauguration of the Conference, we were to receive  an eminent Professor and reach him to the Asoka Hotel. Besides eminence he had the dubious reputation of  grandiosity,arrogance and vanity.  I tried to wriggle out of this assignment, but our Professor, confident of my verbal skills, and  possibly unaware of my lack of diplomacy , insisted I should personally lead the reception team for this Star Guest of the organizing committee (and his.)

We reached the Airport on time, but the flight was late by two hours.  It was a chilly morning, the tea stall in Airport was closed, it was difficult to get some edible breakfast from nearby else where , as the city was still not full awake.. Being on empty stomach, the wait was miserable for us. The driver out in the parking lot was also irritated. I had a tough time pacifying my team mates and the driver. Finally our guest landed, but his luggage took a long time to  get delivered. He got annoyed  seeing the oldish Ambassador Car we had brought for commutting him. 

At the hotel reception too he was irritable.While we were standing enthralled at the spacious impressive interiors, he was rubbing with staff there. Finally when he moved to his room, we had a sigh of relief. Possibly we can move now to the Railway Station to cater to other guests. Alas, the relief was not to last.  Receiving  a distress  call from the room we all went in there. Our guest was furious pointing to stains on the curtains and bed linen, and dirt- real or imagined- on the walls and surfaces.

 'Can't you find a better hotel?', he shouted at me, sensing I was the  one heading this ill-fated team. I tried to pass on to him my information that Asoka was the best  high class hotel in Bangalore at that time, which infuriated him  further.' How many high class hotels you have been to ?' he asked with disdain. Honestly,none for me to declare. 

When I gently asked for permission to leave, as we had to receive other guests his anger quadrupled. 

I felt having had reached my tether's end and we slipped out of the room, leaving him to his tantrums and personal transport arrangements ,to reach the Institute for his afternoon programmes.

**     **     **      **.   **   **.    **.      **

In the afternoon we had to go to the City Railway Station to receive Professor Vidyasagar, the National President of the Indian Psychiatric Society. None of us had seen him. With a photograph we scanned passengers alighting from that train, keeping a placard with his name written, as well. With nearly all passengers screened out, we started getting  a bit upset as we missed him and possibly  he also missed the placard we carried to help identification.

'Oh.all of you have come  here to receive me.'

 A fair man in sixtees with a beaming smile slapped my shoulder.

Unmistakable, here he is! We exclaimed in silence.

After asking names of each of us, he enquired whether we have had our lunch. When we answered in affirmative, he said.

'The train was stuck somewhere early morning. Thread was scarcity of water, food etc there after.I could not get my lunch in train.Shall we go to the canteen for a while. If you have done your lunch, give me company with some snacks.'

We accompanied him to the canteen and gave him company. When I made an attempt to pay for his vegetarian lunch he refrained saying

'Let us economise conference expenses'

. His accommodation was arranged in a modest make.shift guest house at the institute. Till we reached there he discussed about the forthcoming conference and the programmes he envisages under it's aegis.  Two days later in the second day of the Conference ,after the sessions are over, I was asked to escort Professor Vidyasagar on a visit to a friend of him staying at Malleswaram. I could spent close to two hours with him in the car. He told me the challenges he had to face trying to introduce Family Psychiatry in the Amritsar Mental Hospital and how he circumvented the objections and obstructions from Administration and apathy and non.co.operation of some of his colleagues. 

Next day during the Annual General Body meeting chaired by him there were heated exchanges between senior Fellows. Standing in the rear as a Volunteer, I could see him sobbing and suppressing his tears as the Titans clashed on either side of him.

 When we dropped him in the Railway Station for return journey, he  reassuringly said that  some conflicts and contradictions are part of any growing organization and despite all this, the Indian Psychiatric Society would grow and prosper. 

 He profusely thanked us for taking care of him and  invited us to visit Rohtak, where he worked then. That did not materialize, but I had met him once more at Chennai few months later in another academic meeting and  spent some time with him there too.. Though I have never had met him thereafter, he remains in my memory as a gentle  lamp emitting soothing light at  corridor crowded with dark shades.

The contrast in the personality and behaviour of two eminent psychiatrists in the country, I had met  during the first National Conference I attended, lingered in my mind. The bitter verbal clashes witnessed in the Annual General Body also stayed on as a dark cloud in memory. With varying permutations and combinations, I could perceive similar contrasting personality traits among the leaders and functionaries  of our organization on and off. I could also witness many bitter verbal fights and tantrums  in the floors of our Conferences from time to time. Yet, as Dr. Vidyasagar reassured us before boarding   his second class coach for return journey after the 1974  Bangalore Conference, the Indian Psychiatric Society  grew and prospered since then, and continues to grow and prosper ever. .

Dr. K. A. Kumar

Former National President ,Indian Psychiatric Society

Trivandrum.695004

drkakumar@gmail.com