I wanted to have a Coke. It was 3 months since I had one. I never wanted it till then. I guess such gaps kindle desires one never expects to have. I did not buy it; I fought the temptation for 10 minutes pacing outside the shop displaying it. I would not have it for 3 more months. My reason in a friend’s words, “If my parents left me 50000, and vanished for 8 months, I will not be able to deal with it”. I looked at him. His eyes were moist.

I knew where he was coming from. But I could not feel his intensity. Maybe, because I was always in hostels and separation from parents wasn’t a big deal, or because Waugh was doing seemingly difficult things in cricket, or because I discovered Rand’s Howard Roark a year earlier. For me, it was more a math problem. I had 50000, of which 32000 were for my and my brother’s tuition; I was in BE final. The rest was for living 8 months. I rented a room for 600 near college, deposited 32000 for 91 days, and the rest in savings.

3 months earlier, my parents left to an unknown destination* and my uncle would come to vacate our house 2 days later. I was happy for those days. There was a WWF program, “Fully Loaded”, that I was waiting for; specifically the bikini contest between Sable and Jacqueline. It was the last show I saw; Sable didn’t disappoint, going topless with black palms painted on her breasts. I didn’t know when I would watch TV programs again, or if.

My brother was in Mumbai on his B. Arch internship. He had 3 more months to go. My calculation showed 18000 was impossible to survive on for 8 months. The rent was 5000. That left 13000 for 3 months for me and 5 months for both of us; that’s 1000/head/month. We also had exam fees of 3000. I skipped breakfast till my brother came. I used to have a heavy lunch at 11 and a heavy dinner at 6. I delayed my sleep to wake up around 10 AM. I also had 2 months 1^st computers classes, twice a week at 8 AM. I had a pass to Saidapet; it was a 5 KM walk from there to Kodambakkam where I had the class. After the class, I walked back stopping at a friend’s place. His mother offered me biscuits. I did not notice it then; but I used to finish them in a trice. Of course, I was hungry. But as I was always weak I couldn’t always distinguish hunger. Earlier, I used to be teased as “skeleton”; I did not want to aggravate it by claiming weakness, hunger or otherwise, even to myself.

My brother got 3000 from his internship. He gave me the money. I laid down the rule that we would not spend on anything except necessities; I broke it once. Each of us had Rs. 5 always. Once I met a classmate of his. She had Rs. 2. I told her, “I’ll buy you a Coke; you buy me Nimbu paani”. He teased me a few times; but he never made me feel bad about it. I also recall a time when I found Rs. 50 on the floor of a telephone booth and pocketed it as a reflex. Afterwards, I remember trying to avoid the rush of thoughts on the morality of my action. I like to think I returned the money; but I know it is almost certain I am self deluding. Only 1 friend knew of our financial situation; it was simpler to live that way. 

My parents were back in 6 months to support us. When this began I had 11 arrears. At the end, I was a GATE qualified 1^st class (exactly 60%) degree holder. It was a key straw that held me as I chased my dreams the next 4 years. My parents, and others, were impressed by my composure. I did not feel a new pride; it (or arrogance?) was already a part of me.

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*I will not discuss the reasons for this.

This is autobiographical.

I have completed writing this a week ago. I waited this long just so I have something to post on my third wedding anniversary (18-Aug). BTW, Santhi edits all my posts before I post them. I just forget mentioning it.

I don't know how she does it; but she got me three (because it is our "third" anniversary) very valuable gifts connecting to some of the most important milestones of my life. And more importantly, for me, they were all very inexpensive, which is always my important wish :) I thank her for that and being such a huge pillar of support in my life.

Here are (my) India’s five greatest sportsmen. As always, such lists are subjective.

Viswanathan Anand – Chess was invented in India. However, till the advent of Anand, Chess in popular culture was only a hobby. Not many aspired for recognition in the game as they did not know how. Anand’s greatness is not so much in his achievements, which compares favorably with the best players in history. He fundamentally had no example to emulate; he became an example to thousands of Indians. He made chess a spectator sport, brought money into the game, introduced world’s elite tournaments, won newspaper columns, and brought the world cup to India. Anand “defined” contemporary Chess for India. Without doubt, to me, Anand is the greatest sportsman India has produced thus far.

Pilavullakandi Thekkeparambil Usha – In the history of Indian track and field events the most famous name remains P. T. Usha. In a country that barely allowed women to grow unmarried into mid-20s and damned anybody showing her thighs as morally loose, it is a testament to her skills and resilience that she achieved as much as she did. That she failed to become a superstar is a damnation to the nation than a judgment on Usha. She may have failed to significantly influence the sports culture among Indian women. But, at least, she made the job a lot easier for a future somebody who could finish the job for her.

Leander Adrian Paes/Mahesh Shrinivas Bhupathi – Their public animosity to each other does not alter the fact that they are two sides of the same coin that catapulted Indian tennis from a story of near misses to genuine grand slam contenders. They changed the Indian tennis landscape to such an extent that it is a surprise now not to find one of these guys in the semi-final of any major doubles tournament. And no longer would we rub our eyes in disbelief if we see Indians being the best in tennis, albeit (so far) only in doubles.

Sunil Manohar Gavaskar – Before Gavaskar, the best adjectives our batsmen received were wristy and elegant. He was the first Indian cricketer to be considered in a debate of world’s best. He strutted around, in sharp contrast to his teammates, with his head high, chest thrust out, and an open collar. He was a man who was not afraid of being the best. His example developed a team culture that started thinking of winning. He also called the bluff of English press which compared Tendulkar favorably to W. G. Grace as if it was doling out compliments. To be fair, the whole of India was going gaga over Tendulkar being compared to Grace when Gavaskar pointed out Grace was a domestic giant (much like our Ajay Sharma) and a failure at test level and that it was an insult for Tendulkar to be compared with him. It was a giant pioneering step out of the British press’s shadow.

Sania Mirza – A pick as much for her past as for her potential future impact. She was the first Indian woman to win multiple matches at grand slams. She, for me, is the brightest hope to spark a sporting culture among Indian women; a job begun by Usha. Now if only she could concentrate on her game than the length of her skirt! Shall we be happy that she was not asked to play in a burqa or sari? It is laughable that a country that makes life so difficult for the few girls that dare to dream says “It is a shame that a billion strong nation does not produce more champions”. Talk about people getting exactly what they deserve.

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A chill ran down my spine. So this is how it feels, I thought. I never felt it again. It was a rope of ice pulled along my spine and held for a split second longer at the lowest point. In my numbness, I noticed the floor boy happily waving me out. I knew the psychology of his happiness. It wasn’t worth the effort to verbalize it. I was just refused the F-1 visa.

My family was bankrupt. We were staying at a relative’s place and my father was trying to restart his life growing mushrooms. He pawned all my mother’s gold to sponsor me for this. He never wanted me to leave India. I was under pressure to get married and help my father’s business. I did not want to. I needed the visa to escape that and not rebel, which my parents desperately can do without. Now, I decided that I had, no choice but, to rebel.

I told my parents that I will go back to Chennai and try for US. As for money, I said, I will take care of it. I emailed friends for help. I received over $1200*. I wasn’t surprised; I knew I was worth something, and that it was only a matter of them having the means. I found a job at a magazine. It did not cover costs. Also, Santhi graduated; based on our discussions, she stayed in Chennai to avoid pressures of marriage proposals and get to the US. She took up a job as a receptionist. With her, and my friends’, help I battled on.

The stated reason for my visa refusal was going for a second Masters. I wanted to work on physics after reaching US. If I was going for PhD I had to wait 5 years; if Masters, I had to wait 2. So, I applied for Masters again. I and Santhi met every evening/weekend. We listed universities by rank and mailed the Profs who could be interested. I bought a stove and cooked, to save money. Santhi helped in the weekends; we went to movies and the beach. At least, the beach was cheap. It was nice to have an ally in an enemy-less war.

Santhi got her visa in June even though she was going for a 2^nd Masters, I was refused again; we still joke that it was discrimination against males, maybe I could sue them J but she had partial funding. A month earlier, we decided to marry so that we can fight for our goals all our lives. Without that, this story may have ended here with my arranged marriage and joining my father’s business. She left for US. The magazine I worked for was off-market. After 2 rejections, we knew I had no chance of getting a visa unless I had a funding offer. We decided I go for a PhD to maximize my chances at funding. I re-worked 3 research papers, which Santhi sent me, to show I understood and can, at least, mimic others’ work. We sent the work to Profs who could be interested, and we waited.

Santhi sponsored me that year. Her money along with what I earned in a job surveying raw water pipes kept me going. 8 universities rejected my applications. It looked hopeless. Santhi had me apply for a lecturer job; I got it. And then, she called saying I was offered funding. In a few days, I got a 2^nd offer. I still did not dare to dream. I worked on a hope and knowledge that, whatever the result, I had to do everything I could to reach my goal. 

“Stranded! Please help. Have to get to California”

We passed by the board. There was a girl of around 20-25 under it, relatively clean for a person usually found under such boards. We were talking something else and though I told Santhi immediately, we walked around 30 yards by the time she understood what I was saying. We decided to help. We walked back and checked the board again.

Santhi: How much should I pay?

She usually carries all the cash.

I:  10 dollars.

Santhi:  But I have only 20s.

I: Maybe she will return 10.

Santhi: Let’s give 20.

She was uneasy to ask for money back.

I: OK.

She gave her 20. We got into the subway and were walking towards the turnstiles.

I: I talk big things on blogs, but when my chance comes I don’t seem to practice what I stand for.

Santhi: Why? You want to give more money.

I: It is not just that. We could have talked to her and bought her a ticket to California. That way, we would have solved her problem and if she can, she would have sent us the money back and nobody would have lost anything. She also could have retained her self-respect. How much does a ticket to California cost?

Santhi: About $400. Shall we go back?

I: No. Going back is too much. I think we should have thought about it there.

We passed the turnstiles. As we are waiting for the train, I grimaced.

Santhi: What’s wrong now?

I: Maybe we should have gone back when you suggested it. I am just thinking that it is such a small thing that we go back, but it would have made a huge difference to her.

Santhi: We can go back now?

I: But we would waste $3 on the turnstiles. We’ll go home.

The train arrived and we boarded it. I closed my eyes and leaned on the steel rod.

Santhi: What?

I: I am thinking if our 3 dollars is more important than going back and helping her.

Santhi: That is what I am telling you. Let’s go back and talk to her.

I: Shall we?

We got down the train before the doors closed and walked to the turnstiles.

I: Let’s think this through before we go out. How much can we give her? If she says she will return we can give her the ticket price.

Santhi: What if she does not return the money after saying she would? And is it safe to give her our home address?

I: We can give her our lab address. And if she cheats, it is no big deal. It will be a good experience. What if she says she cannot return? How much can we afford?

Santhi: 200.

I: 200? I thought maybe 100-150?

Santhi: We’ll see. She may have collected some money and we only have to pay the rest.

We went out and walked to the place where we saw the girl earlier. The place was empty. We went up and down the street looking at all the corners. We couldn’t find the girl.

Santhi: Make sure you search to your satisfaction, so that we don’t get some ideas after we enter the subway again and we come back to search in a new place. 

After a while, we had to return back. We lost 23 dollars, possibly a friendship, and a chance to apply some of whatever I talk about on these blogs. It wasn’t such a good feeling. I wish I could have managed to think faster and been more decisive or at least, listened to Santhi whenever she suggested turning back. Helping the girl return to California would have been a far better investment, in my opinion, both emotionally and monetarily.

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Written in consultation with Santhi.

This is autobiographical and happened on June 15, 2008.

With this post I celebrate the anniversary of my blogging here on rediffiland. I consider blogging as a major event of my life. I was wanting to retire early and write a couple of books; but with this I am more at peace and am not under so much pressure, from myself, to retire at all.

I dedicate this post to Nandita Chakraborthy who contributed most to my thinking in the last one year due to her open ended questioning. I wouldn't have thought of "I Want to Live Forever" and understood more than I can explain in a lot of time on the universe question when I attempted "Universe 1 - Time and Light". The ideas that resulted from her questions are not even fully formed. It was a huge quantum leap.

I plan to dedicate one post per year, on July 8, to one blogger. The blogger will be chosen based on my opinion as the blogger whose interaction contributed most to my thinking in that year.

Motivation: No word or feeling is more sacrileged than “love”; I won’t use it for what I feel for her. Within two weeks of knowing her, I knew I would ask her if she would marry me. I had no choice. If ever something was destined in my life, it was this.

I won’t describe her. For me, she was simply the best there can be. And, she deserved the best that the world has to offer. I looked at myself. I was this super-thin adolescent kid; I was as weak as weak can be. I was dull. Courage and attractiveness were never on the horizon. I was considered a kid with “potential” in studies; in exams I scored around 75%. I could not insult her, and what I felt her, by offering her this. If I wanted her, first I had to deserve her. From then on I targeted “a personality that is as beautiful as she is”.

Six years later, facing the ocean, I told her, “I want you to consider me”, the water waves touching our feet. After ten days, she refused. She could never hurt me. She was never meant for that in my life; only happiness. She was a dream I had to live up to; all my life. By then, I knew it was irrelevant to consider whether I deserved that dream. I only knew I should strive all my life to deserve it. I would. I have no choice. It is my destiny.

Process: All of us have our ways to meet challenges. As a kid, I aimed to be a guy with natural potential, even if inconsistent. In studies that resulted in a goal to get good marks effortlessly; an effortless 80 was preferred to a hard earned 95; the risk of scoring low was preferred to be perceived as studying. I was aiming to emulate my idol, Kapil Dev.

Kapil Dev retired in 1994; I was looking for a new idol. I decided nationality would not be a factor this time. Steve Waugh was under the scanner right away, along with half a dozen others. By the end of 1995, Waugh picked himself as my new idol.

The process I try to follow now evolved observing Waugh over the years. The process is; from a given moment, given the available resources/constraints, do the best you can. The maxims that underlie this are; concentrate on the process, the result will take of itself and back yourself in any situation. The underlying philosophy was summed up by Waugh as his dream of earning a place in the 2003 world cup approached death, “I can live with not having played in the world cup; I cannot live with not having done everything I could to play in the world cup” The little success I had, and am having I owe to Waugh’s example.

Theory: The book was at home for 2 years before that. I read it only because of lack of alternatives; I finished all the other books at home. Two days later, after reading the last line, I was confused. I looked for an epilogue/torn pages. There weren’t any. Books aren’t supposed to end like this. I had to restart. In the next two years I would read it a hundred times. If I had time this was it. The book was Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead”. 

Rand overturned an idea I held unquestioningly; that selfishness is evil and sacrifice is a virtue. Without Rand, I wouldn’t have dared to pursue my dreams; she removed the guilt I had associated with selfish desires. Now I am unapologetically selfish. Further, the dead need to sugar-coat ideas resulted in clearer thought processes and valuable time savings.

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This is my acknowledgement of the three greatest influences of my life on the occassion of my birthday (the 4th of July); and maybe also an excuse to get some wishes from some of my iland Mates :) "Thank you, thank you" (that is I responding to your wishes) :)

Cinema in India is the most effective mass message carrier. It promises to retain it’s pre-eminence for a few decades longer. Here I list what I consider are the significant events in Indian cinema in my years of cinema watching. Of course, this is a subjective list.

Rangeela – Nudity was mostly equated with declining values. That changed when Mili, after every raunchy exposure/intimacy during filming, asks Munna, “How is my work?” Bipasha today refuses a bikini, not because it is vulgar or revealing but, because it is so damn hard to look sexy in. For the first time, “She is hot” became a compliment.

Dil Chahta Hai – Name an Indian movie that has a rich hero and a poor villain. Difficult? Our movies tried their damndest to make the rich feel guilty for being rich. Well, at least, there is one movie where nobody apologized for being rich. Never has Indian screen seen such guiltless celebration of opulence. Have a blast, Mate, you are not hurting anybody.

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge – Not the whole movie; but the reaction of Dharamvir to his son’s failing the exams is a major stereotype breaker. The film provided a national canvas for the “take it easy” attitude of Kaadhalan. You can laugh even if you fail your exams, Mate. Not all effusive heroes need to be good at studies; there are other avenues.

Thiruda Thiruda – Untouchability is a crime? Not for heroines in films. Rape attempts had heroines struggling with hands on their wrists/shoulders while the rapists maintained arm’s distance. A minor character touching heroines is a strict no-no. That changed with Anu Agarwal in the song “Koncham Nilavu”. The effects on choreography are significant.

Indian – There was a time when viewers were treated to the comical site of group dancers trying hard to look/dance worse than the stars. Post “Telephone mani” with Kamal and Manisha, the stars had to do better. The domino effect on other roles resulted in more on-screen beauty. The message was clear. Get better. Don’t ask for mediocrity around you.

A. R. Rahman – The man exploded with his numbers in “Roja”. The impact was big; but unexpectedly, at least for me, it lasted, and it continues. That Rahman revolutionized Indian film music is a fact that I am sure history will acknowledge. Importantly, he democratized the film market for music directors and singers. No longer, are film makers averse to trying out new singers and music directors. That wasn’t so common before him.

Prabhu Deva – Dances were always intrinsic parts of our films. As kids, we fought over who was the best dancer among a lot of mediocre guys. That changed with Prabhu Deva’s number “Chikku Bukku” in “Gentleman”. This eventually led to his memorable work with Kajol in “Minsara Kanuvu” for “Vennilave”. Choreography rarely gets better.

Pardes – A friend had to tell me that the guy was sad when singing “Yeh Dil Deewana”. Indian movies had a stereotype for the hero who despairs for his love. The whole screen would ooze depression and beg you for tears. That was broken, emphatically. Here was a guy who had a fast car, beat, brightness, and a wry smile to express his despair. Classic!

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I am primarily exposed to only Telugu, Tamil, Hindi, and English movies. English movies aren't considered here for obvious reasons. A list like this is always subjective. One of my most important criteria was that the event should set a "successful" example. Other criteria included contributing to betterment of future cinema quality and (what I consider) positive effect on audience attitudes.

My number was on the list. I couldn’t believe it. At first I thought, “I am misreading it”. I took a walk and came back. It was there. There was no escaping it. I thought, “If I can get it, this must be an easy exam”. It was March 31, 1999, at IIT-Madras, and GATE results.

Six months earlier, I was listening to a lecturer, Krishna Rao, a graduate from Anna Univ., telling, “All of you must experience university life once. You will have free internet, and lots of facilities. If you are GATE qualified, you will get a stipend. Even if GATE is not good enough to enter the university, you can get through by the non-GATE channel, and claim a stipend”. I never wanted to go for Masters in engineering. I wanted to go for IAS or CAT. I was setting my goals based on how I was perceived by others. I applied for GATE. I thought it will be the last option in case I don’t get through CAT. It was.

Four months earlier, I was preparing for my penultimate semester exams. I had 8 regular exams and 11 arrears (failures) from previous semesters. If I cannot finish my degree by my last semester I won’t get a first class degree. More importantly the failures cannot be hidden if I go beyond 4 years. So I studied. But my knowledge was never enough. I also heard that, as the graders get paid based on the number of papers they grade, quantity can be more important than quality. So I decided not to take any chances. I filled 45 sheets of paper (45 is pass) in all exams. And then, there was a scandal. The question papers leaked that semester, and they repeated half the exams. So I had to fill in 45 pages 8 more times into the end of December. I cleared all but 3 of the exams, many on the edge at 45 to 55.

Two months earlier, I walked into bat as the last man. We were 18 for 6 chasing 69. I was captain, and it was tennis ball cricket. The second ball after I came in, my partner was out, leaving me (single man batting) to chase 42 of 38. I am a Steve Waugh fan. I reminded myself of his, “Play the next ball to the best of your ability. Concentrate on the process, the result will take care of itself”. I would repeat that to myself for the next 30 minutes.  I played the ball on its merit, on the ground, picking gaps the couple of times I hit in the air, 32 balls and a difficult dropped chance, at wide slip, later, we needed 9 of 6. Somewhere down the line I knew I would get the winning runs with an edge past the keeper. I saved it for the last ball. I hit the first ball straight to mid-off, 9 of 5; the next lofted over mid-off for 3, 6 of 4; the next a cover drive for 2, 4 of 3; 2 singles later it was 2 of 1. I edged the last ball past the keeper for 2. I wasn’t smiling. It was a hugely personal moment. It was one thing to win. It was another to back myself and plan a chase to that kind of precision.

One month earlier, I was taking the GATE exam. I never prepared. During the exam I often repeated, “From a given moment, with the available resources, do the best you can. You’ve got to back yourself”. I knew I was not going to qualify. My goal was to give it my best shot. Three hours later I said, “I won’t qualify. But I am happy with my effort”. 

I wouldn’t have attempted it, if not for Krishna Rao. The 11 arrears, the extra exams and preparation owing to the leakage, unconsciously armed me for GATE. I wouldn’t have given my best shot, without the cricket. Maybe, I was just lucky. But that would not be such an interesting story, nor will I have anything to boast about, which I love doing.

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This is autobiographical.

I also wish I got the name Krishna Rao (I have doubts whether it was Rao or Reddy) right. I remember a lot less important lady teacher's names, and I remember the names of all the girls I "loved" since I was a kid. This man was more important than most of these people, for me; but I forget him often. That does not reflect too good on me!!!

“They are suspecting that you may be HIV positive?”

It did not register, probably because I was hungry. I was in my 2^nd year, BE.

“So?” I smiled weakly. “What do you want me to do?”

“It is not confirmed. You will have to get a test.” The Principal was obviously trying to be concerned. But I just did not need any. “Ok. I will do that. Can I leave?”

“Yes”. When I was at the door, he said, “Let me know your test results”. I was off. I knew I couldn’t tell my parents. I was told not to tell anybody, for obvious reasons. I confided in a couple of friends. They were sad. I did not have money for the test. So I borrowed Rs.1000 from a friend. I gave a blood sample that evening. I would get the results in a week. My dad arrived from one of his work trips a couple of days later. I had to tell him about this stuff as I needed the 1000 to return to my friend. I told him, after asking him to close the door. He was devastated. In the next 3-4 days he would collect a lot of info on HIV; I remember a treatment in a Kerala ashram that claimed to cure it. The D-day arrived. I went to the hospital. I was not HIV positive.

It was never likely. I did not have sex before this, or blood transfusion/injections. But well, you never know. I told my dad. He was relieved. That evening before I left for my 1^st computers class he told my mother, “your son is very tough”. After I left, he informed my mother and brother. My mother cried that night, “How could you be so happy in this situation?” I was super-jovial the whole week. I said, “Forget it. Nothing will happen now”. My brother may have been jealous. I was told not to share this with anybody. I ignored that. I was proud of this. Everybody who knew about this thought I was strong.

The doubt cropped up maybe because I may have had weak defense mechanisms. I barely had lunch those days. I was around 47 kgs and 5’ 7’’. There was a blood donation camp and those guys suspected this. Frankly, it felt great to be in that situation. As the doctor told me I will have around 10-20 years left, if I was tested positive. I had all these plans in my mind. I knew I would no longer have to go for studies/career, that I could live wherever I wanted. I thought I would go to a hill station, get a telescope, study physics (Resnick and Halliday, Irodov’s problems), Vedas and other religious works. I could be a parasite and nobody was going to make me feel bad about it. All I had to do was smile and watch people admire me. Frankly, it was easy. Once I was tested negative, I was rebound to life. I may have felt differently if I was going to die in a month. I don’t know.

It was extremely tough on my parents. They had to face relatives, support me financially, and face the pain of losing me. It was tough for my close friends. They felt extremely sad as their friend is facing such a problem. Others felt uncomfortable to be around me. 

Me? I was fine. In fact, I couldn’t deny a sense of disappointment that my 10-20 year holiday in life was taken away from me. Living, probably, is a lot tougher than dying.

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This is autobiographical.

Homosapiens are among the weakest species, physically, on the planet. We can’t survive a summer heat, a winter cold, or a rain in our nakedness like the other species. In physical strength, we probably have the lowest strength to body weight ratio. However, mankind survived, despite its physical limitations, because we were united against extra-species’ threats and evolved peaceful ways to settle intra-species disputes. Others settled their intra-species disputes by physical combats; we, by rights/duties. That is why we are the strongest species on earth. However, with great strength comes great responsibility.

Even when faced with certain death, we, more than any other species, try to look out for our mates. Other species abandon theirs to save their own lives. How did we achieve this? The first step was when 2 people wanted the same thing we evolved ways to decide who gets it without physical combats. Defining property rights and the concept of exchange of goods (which is a primitive version of money) were our fundamentals. We defined my home, money, food, animals, and plants and nobody is permitted to forcefully confiscate our properties and the rest of us sided with the property owner against the aggressor. As societies evolved and grew, we evolved wings to protect these rights; order and law, as not everybody can possibly know all the issues in disputes. Now, we have two kinds of properties, private and public. Our duties take precedence over rights on public properties. And duties are what we do to protect our, and others’, rights.

Therefore, when on a public property a person can expect protection from personal abuse and violence just as s/he can on his/her own property. Further s/he has the duty not to abuse, litter, or use loud speakers as it is others’. Therefore, it isn’t freedom of ex-pression (which, in my opinion, includes the right to offend) to abuse (or pass lewd comments on) a person when on public property. However, if anybody wants to abuse me, s/he can abuse (not lie about) me on his/her private property (not visually/aurally accessible on public properties) and, of course, invite me to hear myself getting abused. I have the right to refuse to go, or if I go, have the right to leave the place to alternate properties where I need not hear the abuse. S/he can write a book abusing me, and publish it if s/he can find an interested publisher, sell it if s/he can find bookstores that are willing to sell it and customers who are willing to buy it, and air his/her views on a TV/radio channel if the owner is willing to air it. Of course, if s/he wants to use publicly owned (or co-owned) media, then the society at large can refuse to offer him/her their media of outlet to air his/her views or if the society disagrees with its co-owners withdraw its support to the organization and split.

We can keep arguing about grey areas. I personally think we use this only to retain the option to stop others from speaking what we dislike even on his/her privately owned properties. Further, based on paragraphs 1 & 2 above, violence/murders are not an option when dealing with intra-species disputes among humans, unless it threatens our and our co-beings’ physical safety. In other cases, we only have the right to jail the individuals we deem as threatening others’ rights. Violence/death becomes an option only for physical self-defense. Of course, societies can choose to ignore their fundamentals, and decide to use force. However, I am pleading to consider, nothing can escape the laws of causality. We, as always, get what we deserve. Freedom isn’t for those who spit on it.

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Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Salman Rushdie, Taslima Nasreen, Irshad Manji, Ibn Warraq and many others live under death threats for expressing certain ideas as they offended a group of people. Thus, the question arises, should freedom of ex-pression include a right to offend? I come across people, in print and conversations, say “I support freedom of ex-pression. But we should not hurt others’ sentiments”, as if it is self-evident. This assertion is vague on a couple of levels. What constitutes offence and what must be the punishment for it? While the first is considered in a few discussions, the second is ignored as people start picking on the supposed flaws in those offensive arguments ignoring the death threats.

A little thought reveals that there is no objective way to define “offensive views”. There are places in contemporary world where it hurts sentiments even if others’ houses of worship contain idols. They destroy idols; remember Buddha in Afghanistan, temples in Kashmir, arrest of 3 in Saudi for the clandestine temple. They are, of course, following a prophet who destroyed an existing place of worship, as if it is impossible to build a new one, for his faith’s holiest. Other faiths, no less dangerous in history, at places even now, join these guys to evade criticism; “don’t hurt the sentiments of others”, and while we try to protect our petty feelings/faiths, people (kids/women among them) are dying out there.

Further, just because somebody states an opinion that is contrary to mainstream opinion, does that justify killing him/her? Doesn’t this mean if/when a majority for this contrarian opinion forms in a different time/space the mainstream people should be killed? The pre-requisite for rational discussion is an environment where ex-pression of any idea is not threatened with violence/death. If violence/death threats are the answers to contrarian opinions, then stop pretending that one is ready to discuss. These pseudo discussions offer no real choice; they only say, “Accept my point voluntarily, or else I will kill you”

Freedom of ex-pression without a right to offend is an oxymoron. When death/violence are alternatives to speaking out what one thinks, the virus spreads in the society, resulting in pretension on many levels. Individuals suffer because of that. Zakir Naik, for example, talks of women being raped in US, citing its’ own data. The data from US, and the west, in general is very reliable. How reliable is the data from "conservative” societies on these issues? Does anybody need convincing that semi-rapes in conservative societies turn into consensual sex as victims do not want to lose “honor”? What percent of rapes are actually reported in such societies? I know around ten instances of pre/extra-marital affairs/flings. How many of these will find their way into official statistics if a survey is conducted? 

Taslima Nasreen and others may be bad writers and their arguments may lack logic. However, they have the right to say what they want to say. If one has better arguments, let’s hear them, not threats. Obviously, it is the individual’s choice to support killing such “offensive” people. However, this will result in a thought-censored world, where more and more ideas, and actions, will be categorized as “offensive” and more (surely we or our offspring among them) will be killed/punished. God, of course, is great. He grants us everything we ask for. When our hand, leg, or neck is at the receiving end of a sword and we pray “God, please save me”. S/he would only say, “But you asked for it, Mate”.

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These issues, among others, are well argued by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a beautiful woman on many levels. The reader can get to know her better through various videos posted on youtube and google. She is one of the most important persons of our age, in my opinion.