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.

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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