So here is a thankyou-post depicting the ost beautiful symbol of proximity – art married to devotion.

(Imagine this sculpture carved in sandal wood

Cong – 80

JD(S) – 28

First right-wing Gov in my beloved home. God save us. The premonition I had in Jan is coming true – everywhere.

I have difficulty saying ‘ I hold it true’.

In the yaer 2007, the monsoon tore the skies to unleash a merciless bombardment that was the fiercest in a generation. Whole districts disappeared under cyclonic carpet bombing. Swollen rivers swept misery into thousands of homes. Elsewhere, the ‘horror’ was bewitching.

Jog was in full bloom. The media beat up a frenzy around its charms. I lost no time.

An overnight journey from Mysore saw me reach Jog at around 6:00 a.m August 12. Refreshed and full of anticipation. But. The billowy sentinels of the heavens, held the Sun back. The renowned Jog was an enormous pit of mist. O! Jog T, she was not ready yet…perhaps dressing up behind the mist. All I had before me was promise – her roar. The invisible roar whetted my impatience.

Then it happened. The veil of mist parted. River Sharavati – lithe and pure – dived for her morning dip. It was a Revelation. God might look like this.

With a broken arm in cast and the other holding the camera, I rushed down the steps hoping to get a closer look.

The mist and the spray from the splash would concede only tantalizing peeps. Around me, the freshness was everywhere – in the cold air, green sprouts all over the slopes, moist mud barely holding the steps in place. You can forget anything here.

I never reached the bottom – halted by rain and near zero visibility due to spray. And then the torrential rains made their appearance…I let it soak me for an hour!! This beauty was due to water and I wanted to soak it through every pores (inevitably, even the cast).

Thank God.

(It was my first taste of the beauty of a waterfall. Guess what, Jog is one of the top waterfall in the world for scenic beauty. The more famous Niagra Falls doesn’t qualify for this league at all).

It is simply depressing to see someone you always believed to be culturally on par with yourself take a different stand. The general refrain is people (women in particular) must dress and behave (a broad term) in accordance to local norms or face the music.

God! Immoral behaviour is a lesser evil than a certain way of dress bhla bhla bhla. It happened in Mumbai, a cosmopolitan city for gods sake. This is it. I won’t pen anymore on this sordid issue.(Though cann’t shut the mind to this pestilence).

I wish I could ignore this unsavory occurence but for this: Everybody is unanimous in calling it sad, deplorable, worthy of pinishment, etc.
It’s when condemning it that cracks appear. It’s appaling when you hear that the women must bear the blame!! All because they had consumed alochol.

It is a strange form of escapism to blame crimes against women on provocative dressing, their inebriated state, this ..that, except the root cause : the grotesque character of its perpetrator. It’s an effective escape route because it frees the society from having to punish anyone and mend its structure(the hardest part).
Blame women and move on.

Thanks to media attention, hopefully, this one will not be swept under the carpet. But the greater job of getting people to shun bigotry and assume a modern attitude is tough. I had believed education, exposure to progressive thinking and prosperity will rescue us. NO. People come hardwired with certain leanings and will not rectify it. Hence the need for law and its enforecement.

Since good or evil can gain the upper hand, but in turns,

todays despondency promises tomorrow’s hope.

So wish everybody. . . A

(Whatever that may be….sally ahead)

Make one wish to escape to another world for a little soothing solitude.

With only a baby elephant for company. . .

. . . loose yourself amidst rolling hills.