For whom is it well?

Dear Reader,

The pandemic being what it is, I am reminded of the song that Chinua Achebe mentions in his seminal novel Things Fall Apart. This song, as mentioned in the Novel, is sung at the funeral of a woman in the Igbo culture. The song is like this; 

  "for whom is it well, for whom is it well?

   There is no one for whom this is well."

 

  The second wave of the pandemic has been, predictably, unsparing, more unpredictable with complicated infections, and more contagious than the first. Paradoxically, encased within the home, battling a perilous physical health issue, the external world is more unrealistic than ever. Just look at it--with lockdown, while working from home, the physical contact with the outside world is limited to the vegetable seller, fruit seller and when required, an occasional visit to the medical store. And that's about it. The rest of the world that the middle class was familiar with--be it the bank, the post office and other similar offices-- is now surreal. They are there, but so invisible as to be bordering the famed magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The much paeaned global space, at least for quite some time, is out of sight. This, despite the fact of webinars on the international platform. The plunge into uncertainty hits us all. 

     The neighbours, friends and relatives, even parent-children or husband-wife, become strangers if you so much sneeze thrice and cough twice loudly. The strange stage of survival of the fittest is turned on. 

    All of us are in survival mode, switching on varied survival strategies. For many of us, internet platforms are both creative and financial modes of survival. As I see it, two main aspects of life concern us --physical health and psychological well-being. Of course, intellectual, spiritual, creative, and financial aspects need to be nurtured. But right now, the top two slots are reserved for the body and the mind. 

  Amidst all this chaos and unreal existential/ experiential time frame, some aspects of life, as Julius Caesar once famously said, are 'constant as the northern star'. Some popular psychology and spiritual practices, based on a study of the human mind, help to maintain a healthy sense of perception. The most arduous task right now is to decide what we can hold on to? Is it the values and understanding before the pandemic? Or is it adapting the current survival essential strategies? 

      Either way, this is such a tough time that whatever we do, we are all changed inevitably. There is no denying this, and it has to be stated that this is the most traumatic experience that people across the globe are going through. Life will be entirely different. One doesn't have to be a prophet to say this; commonsense is enough to recognise these. 

   There are those people who already sense and see the changes happening--our value systems, patterns of existence, the meaning of professionalism, purpose and sense of fulfilment of education, our notions of achievement, our sense of attachment and responsibility with the members of our own family is re-written. A new, and so strange, sense of selfishness and safety emerges at the level of individuals. As we are already witnessing, new ways of philanthropy are emerging. People who have a little extra of something are willing to share; a sense of social responsibility is gaining its bearing once again just as the dark cloud of corruption continues to plague mankind in general. 

 All our previous experiences of fighting against autocracy, patriarchy and corruption have strengthened us to the extent that we are not slipping on the same road irretrievably. It is a new difficulty, a new challenge, a new trauma and a new solution. Hopefully, we will emerge out of it all equally strongly.   

       

Dear Reader, if you have something to say or to share,  please do share👇 and if you are happy to read this blog, hit the follow button 👉 and if you want to, share this blog with your friends and like-minded readers.

Please share your comments directly with me to rekhadatta02@gmail.com or message me @rekhadatta1 on Instagram. I shall send the links to you personally. Thanks for your patience.

   

Pandemic and Cautionary Poems

Dear Reader 

The past week has been difficult, especially concerning health and patience. Many people whom I know personally were tested positive for COVID-19. Fortunately, most of them are recovering their health. But some are gone forever. May they be blessed with Peace🙏  

     People in general and Indians in particular (with all due respect to ourselves) are especially good at giving advice and not acting on it, which is a personal premise I have arrived at.  It is as incredible as it is heartening to see a plethora of advice to prevent and cure COVID-19 infections--from Home remedies to Ayurveda and Yoga😁 But when it comes to regimentation concerning health(that is requisite and imperative) boy, don't we assert the freedom of Soul!! Blaming it on what now seems 'unruly' past ways of life or our inability to comprehend the importance of regimentation is a questionable preventive measure. It is most possible that we don't yet understand our role in this pandemic. As individuals, we are responsible for the welfare of the community. It is surprisingly strange that we are yet to realise the direct relationship between the individual and the community in terms of health, especially, physical health!

     Light-heartedness apart (which is one way to cope with the present grim situation), this is the time for caution. The more conscientious we become as individuals, the more likely the community, society, nation and the globe will remain safe and healthy. 

  Do you remember the now nursery rhyme-ring-a-ring-a roses and when it became popular? Dear reader, this rhyme is said to be a cautionary rhyme sung during the great plague of 1665 in Great Britain. It is believed to be one of the worst pandemics faced by people anywhere. The rhyme is a macabre parody of the horrors of the great plague. One of the main symptoms of the plague is the rose-coloured spots and the protection against it, in popular belief, is supposed to be a posy of herbs and the last line 'we all fall down' is descriptive of the death due to plague. However, there are disputes about the meaning of the rhyme--about the sneeze, the description of the symptoms, the date of appearance of the rhyme and the Great Plague etc. The fact is a pandemic at all times is a traumatic experience and possibly, this nonsense limerick came to be associated with plague. Even if this is true, it just goes to show how hard the people were hit by the plague and the dark experiences it created by leaving behind fear and anxiety in the minds of the people. 

   I would like to share one Poem on COVID, published in the daily The Hindu (May 2020).   

 Coronavirus, the worst disease,

Hide in your homes, if you please.

A disease killing lives

And spreading negative vibes,

Symptoms like fever make us weak, 

Doctor's help, we need to seek. 

Started in China, and now, the world is sick, 

Let us unite and find a cure, quick. 

YOu will have a fever as I told you,

you will get a headache and a cold,

Following up then comes cough,

Getting rid is now quite tough.

You will get problems with respiration,

Now, we all need prevention. 

Muscle pain can come too.

Let us build immunity, me and you,

Wash your hands with some soap

We'll fight the virus, that's the hope.

Sneeze and cough into a tissue,

Don't go to crowded places,

Don't be one of those thousand cases,

Visit a doctor if you need care,

Now Just make others all aware. 

                   Pankhuri Saxena, 9 Years, Bal Bharati Public School

https://www.thehindu.com/children/poem-on-coronavirus-scare-way-the-pandemic/article31549223.ece

Dear Reader, do take care to be safe, healthy and wise. One way of dealing with this situation may be to become aware of your role in maintaining the well-being of the community or to accept the dictum 'If I am safe, then, all will be safe' and take care of oneself. Either way, self-help is the best help I suppose.  

Dear Reader, if you have a poem or folk song to share,  please do share👇 If you are happy to read this blog, do hit the follow button 👉 and if you would want to, do share this blog with your friends and like-minded readers.

     Please share your comments at rekhadata02@g mail.com or message me @rekhadatta1 on Instagram. I shall send the links to you personally. Thank you for your patience.

Folk tales and Social Consciousness

 

Dear Reader

I do hope that you are safe and healthy. The effect of the second wave is fiercer than the First in India. What continues to be the dire need of the hour is to expand the social consciousness-be it following the SMS  (Sanitise, Mask, SocialDistance) rules at all times, being indoors as much as possible, avoiding unnecessary visits to friends and relatives, getting tested if there is COVID virus symptom without hesitation and/or feeling ashamed. At present, keeping an open mind for medical examination and following the rules is a matter of pride and part of social responsibility. 

   As a reader, I know that literature provides a different perspective and insight. It is also known that folk tales provide an experiential narrative. This month I endeavour to share folk tales from different parts of the globe. I hope you will enjoy it and recognise the caution in these tales. Folk tales that way are subtle and demanding of the reader greater attention. Here is the first one:

The Man Who Would Not Scold

Chinese Folktale

Old Wang lived in a village near Nanking. He cared for nothing in the world but to eat good food and plenty of it. Now, though this Wang was by no means a poor man, it made him very sad to spend money, so people called him in sport, the Miser King, for Wang is the Chinese word for king. His greatest pleasure was to eat at someone else's table when he knew that the food would cost him nothing, and you may be sure that at such times he always licked his chopsticks clean. But when he was spending his own money, he tightened his belt and drank a great deal of water, eating very little but scraps such as his friends would have thrown to the dogs. Thus people laughed at him and said:

"When Wang an invitation gets,

He chews and chews until he sweats,

But, when his own food he must eat.

The tears flow down and wet his feet."

One day while Wang was lying half asleep on the bank of a stream that flowed near his house he began to feel hungry. He had been in that spot all day without tasting anything. At last, he saw a flock of ducks swimming in the river. He knew that they belonged to a rich man named Lin who lived in the village. They were fat ducks, so plump and tempting that it made him hungry to look at them. "Oh, for a boiled duck!" he said to himself with a sigh. "Why is it that the gods have not given me a taste of duck during the past year? What have I done to be thus denied?"

Then the thought flashed into his mind: "Here am I asking why the gods have not given me ducks to eat. Who knows but that they have sent this flock thinking I would have sense enough to grab one? Friend Lin, many thanks for your kindness. I think I shall accept your offer and take one of these fowls for my dinner." Of course, Mr. Lin was nowhere near to hearing old Wang thanking him.

By this time the flock had come to shore. The miser picked himself up lazily from the ground, and, after tiring himself out, he, at last, managed to pick one of the ducks up, too. He took it home joyfully, hiding it under his ragged garment. Once in his own yard, he lost no time in killing and preparing it for dinner. He ate it, laughing to himself all the time at his own slyness, and wondering what his friend Lin would think if he chanced to count his ducks that night. "No doubt he will believe it was a giant hawk that carried off that bird," he said, chuckling. "My word! But didn't I do a great trick? I think I will repeat the dose tomorrow. The first duck is well lodged in my stomach, and I am ready to take an oath that all the others will find a bed in the same boarding house before many weeks pass. It would be a pity to leave the first one to pine away in lonely grief. I could never be so cruel."

So old Wang went to bed happy. For several hours he snored away noisily, dreaming that a certain rich man had promised him good food all the rest of his life and that he would never be forced to do another stroke of work. At midnight, however, he was wakened from his sleep by an unpleasant itching. His whole body seemed to be on fire, and the pain was more than he could bear. He got up and paced the floor. There was no oil in the house for his lamp, and he had to wait until morning to see what was the matter. At early dawn, he stepped outside his shanty. Lo, and behold! he found little red spots all over his body. Before his very eyes, he saw tiny duck feathers sprouting from these spots. As the morning went by, the feathers grew larger and larger, until his whole body was covered with them from head to foot. Only his face and hands were free of the strange growth.

With a cry of horror, Wang began to pull the feathers out by handfuls, flinging them in the dirt and stamping on them. "The gods have fooled me!" he yelled. "They made me take the duck and eat it, and now they are punishing me for stealing." But the faster he jerked the feathers out, the faster they grew in again, longer and more glossy than before. Then, too, the pain was so great that he could scarcely keep from rolling on the ground. At last, completely worn out by his useless labour, and moaning with despair, he took to his bed. "Am I to be changed into a bird?" he groaned. "May the gods have mercy on me!"

He tossed about on his bed: he could not sleep; his heart was sick with fear. Finally, he fell into a troubled sleep, and, sleeping, had a dream. A fairy came to his bedside; it was Fairy Old Boy, the friend of the people. "Ah, my poor Wang," said the fairy, "all this trouble you have brought upon yourself by your shiftless, lazy habits. When others work, why do you lie down and sleep your time away? Why don't you get up and shake your lazy legs? There is no place in the world for such a man as you except the pig-sty."

"I know you are telling the truth," wailed Wang, "but how, oh, how can I ever work with all these feathers sticking out of me? They will kill me! They will kill me!"

"Hear the man!" laughed Old Boy. "Now, if you were a hopeful, happy fellow, you would say, 'What a stroke of luck! No need to buy garments. The gods have given me a suit of clothes that will never wear out.' You are a pretty fellow to be complaining, aren't you?"

After joking in this way for a little while, the good fairy changed his tone of voice and said, "Now, Wang, are you really sorry for the way you have lived, sorry for your years of idleness, sorry because you disgraced your old Father and Mother? I hear your parents died of hunger because you would not help them."

Wang, seeing that Old Boy knew all about his past life, and, feeling his pain growing worse and worse every minute, cried out at last: "Yes! Yes! I will do anything you say. Only, I pray you, free me of these feathers!"

"I wouldn't have your feathers," said Old Boy, "and I cannot free you of them. You will have to do the whole thing yourself. What you need is to hear a good scolding. Go and get Mr Lin, the owner of the stolen duck, to scold freely. The harder he scolds, the sooner will your feathers drop out."

Now, of course, some readers will laugh and say, "But this was only a silly dream, and meant nothing." Mr Wang, however, did not think in this way. He woke up very happy. He would go to Mr Lin, confess everything and take the scolding. Then he would be free of his feathers and would go to work. Truly he had led a lazy life. What the good Fairy Old Boy had said about his father and mother had hurt him very badly, for he knew that every word was true. From this day on, he would not be lazy; he would take a wife and become the father of a family.

Miser Wang meant all right when he started out from his shanty. From his little hoard of money, he took enough cash to pay Mr Lin for the stolen duck. He would do everything the fairy had told him and even more. But this doing more was just where he got into trouble. As he walked along the road jingling the string of cash, and thinking that he must soon give it up to his neighbour, he grew very sad. He loved every copper of his money and he disliked to part with it. After all, Old Boy had not told him he must confess to the owner of the duck; he had said he must go to Lin and get Lin to give a good scolding. "Old Boy did not say that Lin must scold me," thought the miser. "All that I need to do is to get him to scold me, and then my feathers will drop off and I shall be happy. Why not tell him that old Sen stole his duck, and get him to give Sen a scolding? That will surely do just as well, and I shall save my money as well as my face. Besides, if I tell Lin that I am a thief, perhaps he will send for a policeman and they will haul me off to prison. Surely going to jail would be as bad as wearing feathers. Ha, ha! This will be a good joke on Sen, Lin, and the whole lot of them. I shall fool Fairy Old Boy too. Really he had no right to speak of my father and mother in the way he did. After all, they died of fever, and I was no doctor to cure them. How could he say it was my fault?"

The longer Wang talked to himself, the surer he became that it was useless to tell Lin that he had stolen the duck. By the time he had reached the duck man's house, he had fully made up his mind to deceive him. Mr Lin invited him to come in and sit down. He was a plain-spoken, honest kind of man, this Lin. Everybody liked him, for he never spoke ill of any man and he always had something good to say of his neighbours.

"Well, what's your business, friend Wang? You have come out bright and early, and it's a long walk from your place to mine."

"Oh, I had something important I wanted to talk to you about," began Wang slyly. "That's a fine flock of ducks you have over in the meadow."

"Yes," said Mr Lin smiling, "a fine flock indeed." But he said nothing of the stolen fowl.

"How many have you?" questioned Wang more boldly.

"I counted them yesterday morning and there were fifteen."

"But did you count them again last night?"

"Yes, I did," answered Lin slowly.

"And there were only fourteen then?"

"Quite right, friend Wang, one of them was missing; but one duck is of little importance. Why do you speak of it?"

"What, no importance! losing a duck? How can you say so? A duck's a duck isn't it, and surely you would like to know how you lost it?"

"A hawk most likely."

"No, it wasn't a hawk, but if you would go and look in old Sen's duck yard, you would likely find feathers."

"Nothing more natural, I am sure, in a duck yard."

"Yes, but your duck's feathers," persisted Wang.

"What! you think old Sen is a thief, do you, and that he has been stealing from me?"

"Exactly! you have it now."

"Well, well, that is too bad! I am sorry the old fellow is having such a hard time. He is a good worker and deserves better luck. I should willingly have given him the duck if he had only asked for it. Too bad that he had to steal it."

Wang waited to see how Mr. Lin planned to punish the thief, feeling sure that the least he could do, would be to go and give him a good scolding.

But nothing of the kind happened. Instead of growing angry, Mr Lin seemed to be sorry for Sen, sorry that he was poor, sorry that he was willing to steal.

"Aren't you even going to give him a scolding?" asked Wang in disgust. "Better go to his house with me and give him a good raking over the coals."

"What use, what use? Hurt a neighbour's feelings just for a duck? That would be foolish indeed."

By this time the Miser King had begun to feel an itching all over his body. The feathers had begun hurting again, and he was frightened once more. He became excited and threw himself on the floor in front of Mr Lin.

"Hey! What's the matter, man?" cried Lin, thinking Wang was in a fit. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

"Yes, very ill," wailed Wang. "Mr Lin, I'm a bad man, and I may as well own it at once and be done with it. There is no use trying to dodge the truth or hide a fault. I stole your duck last night, and today I came sneaking over here and tried to put the thing off on old Sen."

"Yes, I knew it," answered Lin. "I saw you carrying the duck off under your garment. Why did you come to see me at all if you thought I did not know you were guilty?"

"Only wait, and I'll tell you everything," said Wang, bowing still lower. "After I had boiled your duck and eaten it, I went to bed. Pretty soon I felt an itching all over my body. I could not sleep and in the morning I found that I had a thick growth of duck's feathers from head to foot. The more I pulled them out, the thicker they grew. I could hardly keep from screaming. I took to my bed, and after I had tossed about for hours a fairy came and told me that I could never get rid of my trouble unless I got you to give me a thorough scolding. Here is the money for your duck. Now for the love of mercy, scold, and do it quickly, for I can't stand the pain much longer."

Wang was grovelling in the dirt at Lin's feet, but Lin answered him only with a loud laugh which finally burst into a roar. "Duck feathers! ha! ha! ha! And all over your body? Why that's too good a story to believe! You'll want to live in the water next. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Scold me! scold me!" begged Wang, "for the love of the gods scold me!"

But Lin only laughed louder. "Pray let me see this wonderful growth of feathers first, and then we'll talk about the scolding."

Wang willingly opened his garment and showed the doubting Lin that he had been really speaking the truth.

"They must be warm," said Lin, laughing. "Winter is soon coming and you are not over fond of work. Won't they save you the trouble of wearing clothing?"

"But they make me itch so I can scarcely stand it! I feel like screaming out, the pain is so great," and again Wang got down and began to kowtow to the other; that is, he knelt and bumped his forehead against the ground.

"Be calm, my friend, and give me time to think of some good scold words," said Lin at last. "I am not in the habit of using strong language, and very seldom lose my temper. Really you must give me time to think of what to say."

By this time Wang was in such pain that he lost all power over himself. He seized Mr Lin by the legs crying out, "Scold me! scold me!"

Mr Lin was now out of patience with his visitor. Besides Wang was holding him so tightly that it really felt as if Lin were being pinched by some gigantic crawfish. Suddenly Lin could hold his tongue no longer: "You lazy hound! you whelp! your turtle! you lazy, good-for-nothing creature! I wish you would hurry up and roll out of this!"

Now, in China, this is a very strong language, and, with a cry of joy, Wang leapt from the ground, for he knew that Lin had scolded him. No sooner had the first hasty words been spoken than the feathers began falling from the lazy man's body, and, at last, the dreadful itching had entirely stopped. On the floor in front of Lin lay a great pile of feathers, and Wang freed from his trouble, pointed to them and said, "Thank you kindly, my dear friend, for the pretty names you have called me. You have saved my life, and, although I have paid for the duck, I wish to add to the bargain by making you a present of these handsome feathers. They will, in a measure, repay you for your splendid set of scolding words. I have learned my lesson well, I hope, and I shall go out from here a better man. Fairy Old Boy told me that I was lazy. You agree with the fairy. From this day, however, you shall see that I can bend my back like a good fellow. Good-bye, and, many thanks for your kindness."

So saying, with many low bows and polite words, Wang left the duck owner's house, a happier and wiser man.

Courtesy: World Folktales  

https://www.worldoftales.com/Asian_folktales/Chinese_Folktale_14.html#gsc.tab=0

Dear Reader if you have a folk tale to share,  please do share👇 And if you are happy to read this blog, hit the follow button 👉 and if you want to, share this blog with your friends and like-minded readers.

Please share your comments at rekhadatta02@gmail.com or message me @rekhadatta1 on Instagram. I shall send the links to you personally. Thank you for your patience.