Beginnings

In the beginning, there was me – and there was her. In the beginning, we were two.

Then, in the new beginning, there was me. Life was simple then. I didn't need to worry about where I would sleep, or what I would eat. A few days without meals, was something I was used to. Cold floors, and nursing wounds were the routine. There were no beds where I stayed.

That was then. Now, there was her. There was him as well. He was unimportant. He was the problem. I looked up and saw him slouch - his slothful belly and mournful mouth sinking incessantly into the mouldy, stained couch. He was sipping on a dark bottle of dark beer – something cheap no doubt, and was gazing spellbound at the TV

“What you looking at?” You would think that he came straight out of the States if you heard him speak with his nasal accent.

I reverted my gaze hastily. This was not the time to test the waters. I had to think about her. I had to sit this out for another hour. One hour and he would be snoring and nothing would wake him up.

It never failed to impress me. How I would blare music, silently sneak out of the door for a breath of fresh air and escape. And there he would be grinning, as he looked out the window, daring me to leave.

I did,once. Leave. A few days back, and now there was me. She had gone, but there was another. There was me – and there was her. Only.

I wish I hadn't picked up the phone that day. But they called to say there had been an accident. I was almost delirious with joy. I couldn't believe my luck.

“Is he dead?” My voice was barely a whisper as I tried to repress the quivering happiness that was gripping me.

Two hours later, there was a rotund, over-bribed, rough-tongued policeman walking me to see her lifeless, bony, beaten up body.

“The baby is fine.” I stared at the lady who was attempting to be nice to me.

“Is he dead too?”

“She must be in shock”, “poor thing”,

“ Is he dead too?” I knew I shouldn't have shouted. Everyone was ogling at me. And then, there was the pat on my shoulder. I was forced to turn. I endured the hug.

“I'm sorry baby!”

I knew better than to respond.

“She was drinking again, and I couldn't stop her from taking the car!”

He had killed her. I knew it. I could smell it on him.

I see it in his eyes, even now. This creature that I had to get away from. There was a cry from the room above. I ran up and put my hand over her mouth, forcefully. She quietened at once. She didn't cry often. She already knew that noise was bad. She looked at me now, and I laughed with her, quietly.

Before, there was only me. Now we are two.

I waited for the comforting sound of that first snore. I picked her up and walked down to the empty kitchen. There was no food. There wouldn't be. I didn't care. I wanted water. I drank and I drank. I gave her some too. She needed milk. I gave her water.

I walked back up. I decided to let the light in and opened all the curtains. The sunshine was glaring. 

When she died, I was almost happy. For her. I think of her now. She must have felt the same way I did. At the beginning there was only her – and then there was me. That's why she left me something.

The snoring had stopped. I walked down again, with her. He lay there, still sleeping. No more noise escaped him. The cheap bottle was replete on his breathless paunch.

I smiled.

In the beginning, there was only the two of us.

The problem I have with fairy tales is...

Nothing. I have no problem with fairy tales. I love fairy tales. I do have a problem with a bunch of people talking about the problem with fairy tales:

"Fairy tales tell our daughters to believe that a man will rescue them. Fairy tales create a baseline for determining beauty. Fairy tales this and fairy tales that."

I'll tell you what, fairy tales are simple and lovely stories that interpreted the right way can show people that there is a wonderful world out there, if we can just reach out for it.

Now, many would argue that the big-eyed, blonde hair princess stereotype the concept of beauty. I beg to differ. The princess characters are beautiful more because of their personalities. So why not focus on that. Let's see, strength of character, sense of loyalty, a will to persevere, the ability to learn from mistakes, humility, grace and selflessness. Aren't these what we should be focusing on?

Oh, all these tales, or most of them have heroes. And yes, they often seem to rescue maidens caught up in a whirlwind of events. But stop a minute. Are not the tales more about finding love and friendship, true love and true friendship? Is it not more about reaching out to the people closest to your heart? Is it not the culmination of the characters true strength that results in them finding love? Yes, perhaps the answer is that simple. Sure, fairy tales are about love and pretty things. They are also about characters with strong foundations, choices and life in general.

It is not for us to judge these stories or write them off as a bad influence, it is for us to interpret them and engage the people we influence to see the beauty that is fairy tales. 

I am no psychologist. I am not even a parent creating reading hazards for my children. But I grew up loving (and still do) fairy tales. From sweet Cinderella, vibrant Belle, loyal Rapunzel, the extremely brave Ariel, to the patient Aurora (just to mention a few!), are heroines and their stories (and hundreds more)who have shown me the joys of different worlds, the depth and quality of character and beauty beyond materialism! I do not think that a man will rescue me from my problems. I am independent and have a will to succeed. I like to do creative things - Belle made me want to read, Cinderella made me want to make pretty things, Rapunzel made me less vain about my hair, Ariel - Ariel taught me about the ups and downs of life and Aurora taught me to be patient!(Again this is to mention a few!) I do not make friends based on looks, or judge based on skin colour or hair length!So forgive me, but I will stick to reading fairy tales, enjoying them and sharing their splendour!

Words

The word, word is defined as, "a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed."

I think that neatly sums it up, even if it is a pithy and almost unimaginative definition. I have spent many an hour pondering on the famous or infamous saying "actions speak louder than words." Those hours never end with a stolid conclusion on the viability of this statement. I do believe though, that actions and words compliment each other, and one without the other is like bread without butter - insipid.

Words equate power. Words express our souls. Words can leave a global footprint. Words can be life changing. Words are profound.

My life, and I am sure most peoples lives' have been affected by words. These words can be from anywhere - books, movies, speeches, conversations, and in any form - written works, and/or audio and visual material.

For me, books have been an integral part of life. I cannot imagine my life without a good book to read. Imagine a life without the shared drama of Shakespeare's plays, or missing out on the mystery and grandeur created by Tolkien! A world without the description of Georgina from the Famous 5! (Wait, I mean George!) My childhood was made so much richer because of words that I read! Days spent reading and days spent playing games full of adventures and characters we had read about!

Then, there was more Enid Blyton - school stories that slowly moved onto other books, other word-treats! "The delights of anticipation" as Anne would put it were incessant. Book by book, word by word, life transformed from school to high school to university, from only prose to prose, poetry and plays! Words changed from words that were merely read to words that were spoken, written and shared!

Words not only impact, but impress upon one's mind. The numerous times someone has said something complimentary or otherwise to you that have left a mark on your life forever. Sometimes it is just one word like hello, or good-bye, that can change the course of your entire life - A feather touch, light on your skin but strong enough to make sure you can feel it forever!

Words are magical - good or evil magic is relative. Like a witch or wizard in front of their brewing pot - just the right quantity of syllables, the perfect touch of flavour as you drop in the annotations and other styles . A perfect mix of words and your brew is ready! Ah and what we can do with this powerful magical potion! Change the course of the world, add some zing to a special someone's day, stop that person in their tracks as you throw out word after word! Stop the world, move the world, love the world! Sigh! Words! Words! Words!

Life without words (imagine trying to describe silence and not having the words to be able to?) would be a life I don't want!

Dancing: Not for the faint hearted

"Mum, can I please cut my hair? Can I get fringes?"

"Of course not! How will you dance?"

"Aunty, can I please cut my hair? Can I get fringes?"

"Sure darling, but please stop coming to dance class."

"Hey, are you coming for the party at ...., this Saturday? Everyone is going to be there and it's going to be the party of the year."

"Hey...well, I'd like to but it's in the afternoon and I have class..."

"Oh...well can't you skip?"

"I have a show in two months..I can't...I can't believe I will miss it! Uggghh"

Those are just a few conversations that are likely to happen between you and mum, teacher and friends, if you learn dance, or it should be.

I've been learning dance, almost since I was born. I have been teaching dance for the past 16 years. And whilst I will say that dancing for pleasure, leisure or fun is for everyone, professional dancing is not. I am sure most dance teachers, students and connoisseurs will agree after they read this.

Dancing is about passion. More importantly, dancing is about commitment and hard work. Dancing is about sacrifice and love.

When it comes to Bharata Natyam, there is a strict adherence to a dancer's lifestyle. A Bharatha Natyam dancer will pay keen attention to body posture; straight back even when exahsuted; grace that is endearing and sometimes belies actual physical and mental state. A Bharatha Natyam dancer will maintain an old fashioned hair do to keep it healthy (and easier to work with when styling it for stage) even though she often ponders styling it in the latest fashion. This dancer will time and time again, forsake to-do's and events because she has practice - it is 100% commitment! And boy, does it lead to satisfaction. That moment when you are dancing almost leisurely, your legs in a perfect plie, Your footwork in perfect rhythm to the complex steps of music that you have grown to love. Your hands moving with precision that seems effortless, and the story you are imparting moving you and all around you to feeling the breath of the story!

A lot has changed. These days, dancing is often about achievements, and then passion. It is about doing everything else, and then dance. It is about fun (which is good) but with less of the hard work. So, what has gone wrong? Why is it that parents will approach you and say," I want our daughter to do her Arangetram," (loosely translates to dance graduation) and then proceed to tell you she has exams, but the last 3 months she is in the country, she is all yours and will only dance! Sounds perfect - 3 months of only dance and then taking on the stage and having a brilliant performance! And believe me it is possible. But the underlying philosophy of it is wrong. Getting to the point of Arangetram is not the work of a strenuous 3 months - it is the beginning, of the final product of months, if not years of consistent work and improvement. It is the culmination of the love you have for an art into something you will treasure all your life. It is not a school exam that you study for, pass and move forward, or fail and retake. It is the blossoming of an artist!

The big dilemma for dancers still in school, or those that work is, priorities. It is not wrong to take a few days off from dance class to study for your exams, or to attend a work meeting. But ask yourselves this, would you use that break you take between physics and maths to try a dance step you have been struggling with? Would you say no to that after work drink with colleagues because you needed to rehearse? The key is balance!

I believe the fundamentals need to stay intact - Dancing is not for the faint hearted. It involves pain, fatigue, sacrifice! It involves a love for the art, a drive to never give it up and the will to let it become an intimate part of your every day life. When you have cried because your feet are hurting, but still continue dancing; when you are at the brink of throwing in the towel and find yourself trying, one more time, to perfect that dance sequence that has been bothering you for months; and when you willingly let go of other things in order to dance - Then, you are a dancer!

Reflections

It might be a mindset, but come December, or the conventional end of year, I start to reflect on life and how my part in this gigantic play is panning out. Have my acting skills improved? How am I dealing with the unexpected? Am I doing enough to perfect my act? Is acting still fun? (Forgive the cliché analogy of life and play acting!) 

Reflections give me pause: that moment to breathe in the air, soak in the sunshine, and dance in the rain. It is a moment of complete me-ness; that time of the year when I am perfectly honest with myself, and almost always at peace with myself. 

As the years have passed these reflections have become more profound. Age does offer me that pinch of salt to face the growing number of disappointments and frustrations, the increasing number of times a straight road decides to take a twisted bend (not one of those picture perfect bends but quite the opposite) and the heightened knowledge that life is not the bed of roses you once imagined it to be. Reflections with a pinch of salt allow me, on the other end of the pool, to appreciate the small things better, to tap myself on the back and be happy that I got through another year. To look around at the people surrounding me and laugh from my heart at their pleasures and love them with my soul. 

This time round, December has started of with an in-depth journey to self-understanding. I have discovered that I am a creature who yearns for control. Situations or tasks that I don't have complete control over throw me off balance (ricochet me off to planet stress-abundance, would probably be more fitting a statement). I think I have known this for a long time now, but merely seeing it at its core has allowed me to respond to my crazy behaviour when faced with such times. I can now safely count till ten before I land myself softly and quietly on planet stress-abundance. This is a small tiny step, but one that appeases me, nonetheless.

There are other things that I am learning, or re-learning, about myself: I do not like confrontations. I love cheese - in-fact I am a foodie. I abhor standardised solutions on how to live life (they irritate me). And, so many other small delicious self discoveries follow. Reflections of these kind always pave the way for me to journey on a magnificent road, called me. It's far from perfect, but it is a lovely reminder that there is much beauty here on this road...

Football Fever - The early symptoms

Football is the most exciting sport on earth. That is a fact, and not up for debate. Anyone who would even think about debating this point, know now that this post is probably not something you can relate to.

I've grown up with football and sheer football mania is something that has oozed into my being and will not ooze out. Truth be told, I watched a lot more football when I was in high school - I was a regular premier league addict and even more of a Brasileiro série A fan.

As I've passed through uni, and progressed into the realm of the working world, the time I spend watching football games on TV has reduced dramatically, so has the inclination. I still have a good idea though, of what is the latest in the world of the EPL and the Champions League (I mean who wouldn't have an idea with all the accessibility to this information, promotions and hype!) and love watching a game whenever I can.

The one thing that hasn't changed is my addiction and dedication (I use this word on purpose), in watching the Football World Cup! There is absolutely no event (Apart from the Olympics, I suppose) that comes close to the excitement of this sporting event.

Next year is going to be phenomenal. The world cup comes home, to Brazil. South American football, without doubt, has its own flavour and magic - fancy footwork, star players, passionate crowds and a sheer love for the game, set to the background of football manic countries, promises to have a lasting impression! Can anyone ask for more?

As it stands, the final groups were announced over the weekend and this is going to be another interesting world cup. We have England and Italy facing off, France pretty much being in an easy group, and Argentina and Brazil having stiff challenges, at the early stages. It will also be interesting to see how the "minnows" perform.

All in all, the journey is gaining pace and the fun begins... (minus the tension, for now). I can't wait for Brazil 2014!!! Whoop!

Little Red.... And Goodbye

Little Red is (I suppose I should say, was) not your typical fairytale girl dressed in a red riding hood, off to meet her grandmother. Little Red, believe it or not, has never met a wolf (at least, not as long as I have known her)

Over the last two years, Little Red has been a big part of my life. In fact, we went almost everywhere together. It all began with my growing frustration and quotidian weariness with commuting using matatus (for those who are unfamiliar with the term matatu: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matatu) and buses. This together with a darling family resulted in my hook-up, so to speak, with Little Red.

When I first saw Little Red, I was still awed and unsure about our meeting. She did look just about right, though. Fate bound us and I took my first, little steps into a whole new lifestyle. Little Red - my new red colour Toyota Raum, took me to work and back, as never before. I would cautiously and nervously drive down Mombasa Road and avoid all the scary highway turns, matatu infested roads and traffic-frenzied roundabouts. The quieter, albeit pot-hole prone roads were better for us.

Slowly, Little Red and I got to know each other better (And yes, Little Red was definitely a she. Her love to get ripping, her absolute dislike and reaction to stupid drivers and her taste of destinations made it pretty obvious!) With every journey we grew more confident with each other. And soon, I was no longer dreading the roads, but enjoying my time driving around, cursing in traffic and singing my favourite songs out loud.

Little Red was many a time, my refuge. I would laugh with her and cry tears with her. Some days, it would be time spent with her that inspired me with brain waves, ideas and beautiful thoughts. I shared my heart breaks with Little Red, and my happy thoughts too. Best of all, I shared cheeky, fun moments with her. Like the time she purposefully followed a car, just because it looked good! Or, the first time I drove myself to a dinner party - how much fun!

Little Red did pull some crazy stunts: there was the time she decided that she was sick of her front wheel and went ahead and burst! Poor appa (dad, in Tamil) was in the car and had to dictatorially tell Little Red to get a grip! I think she did learn her lesson. She was off in ICU for nearly a month and that seemed to have curbed her temper and when she was back on the road, you could tell that she had been injured. Soon, she was back to her wily, old self and was busy taking me and friends out on memorable errands, parties and even farewells.

Little Red had a personality. With appa she was super dainty and well-behaved. With Shalini, my sister, she was a regular speedy Gonzales and with me she was just her usual, crazy self.

Once, on a trip to the airport, some crazy dude decided to mess with her and gave her a good knock out! Out cold again, Little Red recovered relatively fast from her injuries, but was definitely starting to show signs of ageing! That certainly didn't knock the fun out of her and Little Red and I have continued being best of pals, driving new, scenic routes together and daring just a little more every day!

Sadly, I had to let her go! Little Red was ready. She wanted some R&R. She was sad to go, but happy to get her goodbye's done quick and easy! I said bye to Little Red today - my first car! I can't help loving my first car, my Little Red - here's wishing her a lovely journey ahead!

Bathrooms...and aesthetics

The word bathroom is defined as, "a room containing a bathtub or shower, and usually a sink and toilet." Considering that it has a significant impact on my day to day hygiene, it hardly seems a wonder that whenever I am travelling and wherever I am travelling to, one of my central considerations is the availability of this facility. 

Over the years, very few bathrooms have actually met my approval. They are either too small, too dirty, too ugly or too boring. A bathroom needs space, personality, air and grooming! Think about it. The bathroom is your sanctuary and in truth one of the most personal spaces you will ever have. 

It therefore never fails to irritate me, when I see housing with bathrooms the size of a peanut. I'm sure everyone can relate to the tremendous annoyance when you are trying to walk into the bathroom and the door practically opens into the loo? For those of you who are as peevish as me, this means that unless you are wearing clothes that are as tight as your skin, you have to ensure you are clinging onto everything on you, aiming to ensure that nothing is touching the bathroom doors, loo or the floor (try this with a shawl,stole or a saree!) Eventually, you manage to squeeze into the bathroom, close the door and do your business. You then proceed to wash your hands in the sink that is barely inches away from the loo and breathe thankfully as you leave this nightmarish room. 

Then, you have the bathrooms that are very much like the ones mentioned above, with an added twist - welcome, shower area! Kudos to architects and builders who manage to accomplish this; an extra round of applause for those who think of taking into consideration a raised platform, partition or shower cubicle. This way there is no chance of shower water draining all over the bathroom floor. One only needs to manage to get past the obstacle course (door, loo and sink) and reached the shower, then proceed to grapple on how to keep your towel dry, actually move around enough to clean your entire body and get out of the shower without tainting yourself by touching sink, loo or door. But yes, YAY! We have a partitioned shower.

It gets worse when the partition is just a dreamed up apparition! You have had a long tiring day, forget about taking a shower, how about just washing your feet? You open the dreaded bathroom door and voila! Someone has been to the room already ....and taken a shower, and not bothered to clean up. Now all you have to deal with is a stream of water - possibly carrying grime and definitely sprawling with germs ... that you need to walk through to clean your aching feet, which is pointless at this point, if you mean to walk back and out of the bathroom. Let's not even get to the point where you would want to utilise the loo!

To be fair, I have seen and used (sadly) small bathrooms that are extremely clean and have enough ventilation to keep things sane. Thank goodness (and cleanliness) for the owners of small bathrooms who care enough to keep things clean. Because, there are bathrooms of all sizes and shapes that are worse than any of the above mentioned - unclean, shoddy, messy, stinky, dark and gloomy!

And it is these purposefully ugly bathrooms that annoy me the most. We spend a good deal of time in bathrooms. One should want to be in there and not be aiming to rush in for a quick water beating and rush out. A good bathroom needs to be AIRY, FRESH, SPACIOUS, ORGANISED (Cabinets and wall shelves go a long way here!) SUPER CLEAN, and BRIGHT (don't forget to keep those mirrors sparkling, so you can dance in front of them dressed, undressed or somewhere in between). The bathroom is the most important room in your house/living space and should be a place you enjoy spending plenty of time in. So go on, spend extra time, effort and yes, money on your bathroom! If not, don't bother inviting me over!

Here are a few links with pictures of what I would consider nice bathrooms:

http://www.houzz.com/photos/946469/West-Isles-Kid-s-Bath-traditional-bathroom-minneapolis

http://www.houzz.com/photos/2629804/Laguna-Beachfront-Contemporary-contemporary-bathroom-orange-county

For those with smaller bathrooms, look at the awesome bathrooms here:

http://freshome.com/2012/10/09/30-small-bathroom-design-ideas/

And use the simple tips and ideas found here:

http://www.realsimple.com/home-organizing/decorating/bathroom/bathroom-design-ideas-00100000104729/#1

Drifting on a lonely sea...

My heart begins to race any time

A sound escapes my phone -

From excitement and hope, 

Anxiety and dread.

My heart begins to race any time 

I dream of us together,

And then reality comes in, an unwelcome guest

Leaving me forsaken - dead alone.

My heart begins to race any time

I think of life-happy with you,

And nearly stops in sadness,

For this may never be the life I know

My heart races every time

And slowly, it quietens down.

The sound from my phone, 

Is never yours;

That dream I have of happiness, 

Slips from my grasp and drifts afar;

Life as it should be

Is but dust at my feet.

My heart is numb and no longer alive -

Unaware of life,

Unaware of us.

Passion & Drive - Random thoughts

Lately, I've been thinking about these words - passion and drive, and amazing possibilities swim before me. Who would've thought that two simple words can have so much potential?

But, that's just what it is - an appetising bowl, full of dreams and hopes coming to fruition. Think about that clear, sunny day with clear, blue skies and the excitement of a nice drive along green pastures and elegant trees. You stop near this hill, surrounded by the smell of wild grass, and have an impromptu picnic - and out comes the passion fruit - golden and orange, a promise of sweet goodness inside. You happily break the fruit into half and suck at the juicy pulp inside, cooling your insides with a remarkable taste of freshness! Who would've thought that passion can be so rewarding?

While you stretch yourself on your picnic mat and look up into the sky, drifting thoughts fill your mind. How often do you hear the clichéd advice, about doing what you love and being passionate about your work in order to achieve success? It is quite obvious that where there is passion and drive, success will follow. The question is, what happens to those people who have a job and do it to their best ability, but are not passionate about it? Do we write them off as failures, or brush them aside as people who will never attain greatness in what they do? Should we recommend that they forge ahead and find something else to do - something they can display passion for and have a drive to excel in? Is there a single formula that can work for everyone?

I think not. Sometimes, passion and drive do not necessarily come from loving what you do, but from love of something else. A parent will work at the most miserable of jobs, so he/she can give their child all things possible. The happiness in her/his child's eyes is their drive, the smile spreading on the lips of dear ones, their passion! That is only one example. I am sure we have all met people who are brilliant at something, but are almost struggling through life - working at a job they don't like or are not brilliant at. What of it? We shake our heads at them and think, if only they would try their hand at this - fame, fortune, wisdom - it would all be theirs. But do we really understand? Perhaps, satisfaction in something else entirely is their passion and drive!

Thoughts drift again...passion. What a tantalizing word - and then you add drive to it and there you have it again: a sumptuous coming together of things. What drives us to passion - the more carnal and intimate longing? Is it lust, or is it love? Is it the culmination of both? the breaking open of that passion fruit to satiate our thirst for wholesome sweetness? That sweet pleasure of kissing that person just a little while longer and with an extra serving of zeal? The promise of oneness - a celebration of all your dreams and hopes coming together for treasured moments of complete love - is perhaps what drives us to passion of any kind, after all

The sun begins its descent...and you pack up your little impromptu picnic things. Time to head back to the car and the pleasant drive home - with a little, orange coloured, passion temptingly peeking on the seat next to yours...

This one is for the ellis!

Tumaini – My Hope for Earth

It is a round world after all! And you can't walk to the ends of the earth and fall over – rather difficult to believe, as you look at eternity from the edge of a hill, into an abyss of green and brown; trees and hard rock. You skid, stumble and grip air to halt your fall, watching as the tiny rocks at your feet, disappear down into oblivion.

“Bump!”, you land on your behind. The vacant expression on your face is gradually replaced by a concoction of confusion, realisation, panic and relief, as you turn away from the edge. There is a flash of a camera and you know your comical look will soon be plastered and viewed across the world on too many social media sites. 

Cautiously, you attempt to stand and move further away from what could have been the world's infamous edge (which no longer lives to its treacherous reputation) and meet the concerned but laughing faces of fellow adventurers.

You sit down and slowly, as you sip on some water and make sure your precious camera is not damaged, a certain normalcy returns: your fingers stop trembling, your feet come alive from their dead-log stupor, you believe in science again and manage to put aside questions about the gravity of the situation.

I look at the craggy drop, barely an inch away from me, and nestle closer to the rock I am hiding behind. How different things look now, from back then. In-fact, the drop below is almost comforting. The people after me will kill me and worse still, the death they offer me will be more painful than what awaits me at the bottom – if there is one – of this fall. I make up my mind: if they find me I will jump.

My one hope is that I have learnt how to cover my tracks – I still have a chance of staying undiscovered. But, even if I stay hidden from them now, would I make it through the night? This isn't exactly a safe haven. I stubbornly contain my anxiety and hopelessly check my phone for connectivity - Murphy's Law is a bitch - my phone battery is dead. I crouch deeper into the earth wishing it would swallow me up, continually grateful for the cloud cover that prevents me from creating enemy shadows.

I stay dead-still as I hear their voices and sense the threat in their foreign words. I have good reason to be terrified. I have seen these men kill. I have seen them slaughter innocent creatures: commit murder more than once. These men are dangerous and they are cowardly. They attack unfairly and kill an unarmed, innocent enemy. I am ashamed to know they are human and therefore kin. I am proud that I have captured their crimes on my camera. I am petrified that I may not be able to expose them - aggrieved that I was helpless to stop them. 

Over the last year, I have spent alternate weekends in this beautiful landscape. My camera (nothing fancy – just a small digital friend), backpack and food are my only companions. There is a consummate sense of peace amidst these lush hills and listening to the river flowing, unmoved by my presence or lack of it, is surprisingly comforting. Who would believe that such muddy waters could look so beautiful? It is beautiful and is made even more breath-taking as I catch a glimpse of big swaying ears, gliding to and fro; smaller, giant feet come into view and graceful trunks playfully dip, pick and spray water everywhere. Every herd I see as precious as the previous one; I can watch these elephants forever. 

How grand! How magical! How tranquil - I remember that feeling now and watch as the killers pass me. I dare not breathe and send silent thank you messages to a God I have never prayed to. I watch as dark clouds turn ominous, and one by one, heavy rain drops cover the earth around me. I tuck in my knees and hug my backpack, protecting it best as I can, as I cower in the downpour. 

Camouflaged behind the shrubs, I see the ripple of grass ahead and it attracts my attention simply because it seems out of place. I doubt a human eye could spot me and I feel proud as I dwell on that. It's the impossible shriek that stirs me out of my self appreciative thoughts. I look ahead to see the herd in chaotic movement and there is another nightmarish cry as one of the bigger elephants falls lifeless to the ground. I am stunned. A pride must have attacked the herd - As horrific and rare as this is, it is the first possibility to strike me. I snatch my camera and rapidly capture photos. I cannot stop as the scene ahead of me unfolds. I am numb and feel the tears roll down my face. I hear a scream coming down from somewhere in the pit of my stomach; I do not understand how I have contained it. 

The rain has finally stopped and I stand up. The rain was a blessing in disguise but I know I must leave here immediately. I turn eastwards; I will make my way to the lodge and from there, to Nairobi. I am not naive and know the chances of escape are low. I do not know where these men or their spies lurk, but this plan is my only hope! I look up and see the first star appear, as I take my first step towards help and away from the destruction I had witnessed.

Time has stopped. I am unable to take more photos. I can see and smell the vomit next to me and make a futile attempt to move away. A more powerful and permanent smell starts to fill my nostrils - blood. I watch the men, their faces imprinted in my mind, carry the ivory they have hacked off my jumbos to the Land Rover. I see their guns, their machetes. They are unfazed by the horrific sights they have created. I yearn to look away, I cannot. None of the herd has escaped. The big tuskers had no chance and the others have been slaughtered, as they bravely tried to protect each other. I have never seen such devastation. I must help – and yet I am unable to move. I do not know what to do: ahead of me are endless beheaded figures, around me bandits who will kill me. I see them picking the last of their stash now and uncaring, they begin their exit. 

I knew it was a mistake to move. It was that slight movement, yonder, that decided me. I wasn’t sure if my eyes had been playing tricks on me. Then it was there again, a plaintive movement: It was a baby, alive and wailing next to its decapitated mother. I crawled out from behind the shrub and as the Land Rover began to drive away, I pressed onward. I must help – it was the only thought I had. I got closer and saw tears run down its normally smiling face. I had watched this herd for days and knew this baby calf. I had seen her come to life. She is patchy with her mother's blood now and distressed. I am almost next to her. I hear the car and turn around; I am not sure why they are back. All I know is that I have to get away. There is a great deal of shouting as they see me. I push the little calf down as hard as I can, crying, hoping she would understand that she should not move. The massacre around me is what saves me. The car cannot pass through and by the time these heartless men are on their feet I have retreated into the thicket. I run hard and pay no heed to the scratches on my body. I frantically try and keep a sense of direction. I know I must try and reach people. These cowards would not harm me in front of others and risk exposure – would they? I keep going. I hear them sometimes, as the tears continue streaming down my face – It is the sickness of it all. Seeing this carnage has left me broken - fast and completely. I stumble on and reach the edge of a hill and see the rock. It is my time to hide. It is my time to do anything I can to show the world that these men deserve punishment – that they deserve death.

It is barely eight hours later. I am being followed. I do not slow down,and maintain my course, close to the main path. The presence behind me doesn't feel harmful – It is in harmony with the sounds of insects and birds surrounding me. There is no moonlight and my progress is slow, but I am hopeful and happy not to have met any lions or leopards (I am unprepared for more adventure). I curse my stupid thoughts of hope as I spy two amber eyes and then four and then too many to count. They are right here - I have walked into a pride. I am tired and scared– what was I to do? I crumple, gracelessly to the ground

There is a movement. I see the silhouette of a lioness stand and walk towards me, pausing and analyzing me – am I a threat? Am I a meal? I catch the swish of her tail. I wish she would understand that I am in trouble and that I must take my photos away from here. I am here to help. I watch her approach and try to maintain eye contact. I can feel her move towards me – the pride behind her are alert. Then, I feel it on my shoulder and I struggle to keep my composure. I am pushed aside, albeit gently, as the lioness steps back and turns away, shrugging off her interest in me with supine haughtiness.

I know we don't have much time before the pride realises that the calf is alone. And in a beautiful moment I realise she isn't alone: she has me and I have her. Perhaps, she does know, in her own sense, that I want to help. I gather myself together and move to the open road with renewed belief. I walk quickly with Tumaini (Hope, as I have named her) by my side. Her sorrow is obvious from the tears still running down her face, her head is drooping and that ever present hint of a smile – so part of an elephant - is missing. But her walk is steady and determined, and we press on.

It has been three months from that day now and I am at the lodge again. I still have trouble sleeping. I will never be the same. There are camera men and journalists around me. My pictures and story have been published on a special edition of National Geographic. I have exposed the murderers: four of them are now in prison. The park has more patrols, and elephant herds here are now protected by rangers, day and night. It is a very small victory considering the massive problem. I am not proud; I am barely moved. But I am humbled, and I am glad I have a small victory to help me do more. Mostly, I am privileged to have a new friend – I look up and see Tumaini, lingering at the edge of the lodge. Her new family begins to walk majestically away but she is looking at me and raises her trunk. I look into her eyes. It is a promise we have made together– a promise to help in any small way!

A Lighter's Willow

“We must go! Oh, how can we not?” Cassa looked desperately at her people as she pleaded, “We cannot miss the Light Willow Ceremony. Don't you see?”

“Cassa, we know that the ceremony is tomorrow but we must not risk leaving here – the enemy will invade our home and destroy it all.” Altur was sure of this and was trying to make Cassa see that their home needed protection.

“If we stay then all of these lands will perish. We will be responsible for that. Our selfishness to protect that which we love will destroy everything. As your leader, I have spoken – We will travel to the heart of Willow Land and be the light for all these lands. If we fail to do this – if we fail to go to the Light Willow Ceremony, and fail in our duty, we will bring about the end of the magic: magic of our own and magic in everyone around us.”

Altur was shaken by the sound of doom and finality in his wife's declaration. He looked into Cassa's blue eyes, hoping to see a sign of hope. In their twenty years of marriage, he had never been opposed, as strongly, to her choices. The weight of this was fast becoming impossible to bear. He approached his wife and held her soft fingers in his. There would be time, later, to convince her that this was madness. For now, he would stand by her and guide their people by her side – he would not forsake her.

Cassa felt Altur's reassuring grip on her hand and felt a sigh escape her. She felt no joy in forsaking her home, but the vision had been clear. Ferntress had also sent a warning. This was the reason Cassa had been born; she knew it with a blinding certainty. “Prepare yourselves! We leave for Willow Land at dawn.” 

Tears brimmed her steel eyes as she watched the other Lighters sombrely moving out of Willow Hall. From the window to her right, she could see her homeland and the dancing, merry lights shining through all the willow trees. Each willow stood proud and tall, houses and centres carved within its hollows. The design of each home was different, intricate details carved by the Lighters themselves. Stain glass paintings decorated the window panes that were made out of pure shimmer – which looked like and behaved like glass, but with magic. Shimmer protected the Lighters and the willows they lived in. It was made of the purest of waters; magic waters only Lighters could find. Shimmer was bright blue and speckled with star-like glitter and yet when you looked through it, it was crystal clear. Shimmer and the lights were what made this land so beautiful. Lights of all colours and shapes (leaves, trees, butterflies, stars – anything with life!) Each light could take on any colour and at times the lights would change colour as if by will to make everything more beautiful. Ferntress used to tell Cassa that the Lighters were as beautiful as their land and as Cassa looked at her people returning to their willows, she knew it was true.

The Lighters were distant relatives of the light fairies and the resemblance was vivid. The men were lean and stood at about two feet high. Altur was the tallest Lighter ever known at two and a half feet. The women were shorter and curvaceous. Lighters had hair the colour of sunshine and eyes the colour of bright blue skies. It was their wings, though, that made the Lighters resplendent. Each Lighter's wings were unique and took on their owner's personality: Altur's were golden and as they moved you could see the shape of a golden, majestic lion – shades of golden yellow and brown came together fascinatingly, evoking visions of a lion protecting its pride. Cassa's wings were heart shaped and rainbow coloured. The edges were tinted by a dizzying number of colours – black, white, gold, silver, amber and more. The heart shape and colour were reflective of the source of life. Other Lighters' wings comprised of flowers, trees, hills, some had written poetry and each depicted the Lighter's own core or skill. 

“Come Cassa, we must prepare to leave.” Altur couldn't help the hint of bitterness in his voice. 

“Altur, please hear me. My vision is clear. If we fail to bring the Grand Willow to life, the ceremony will fail and so will our magic. Our home will never be the same. We may save some of it, but the lights will die. Altur, I need you to help me with your heart. Please do not hate me.”

Altur looked at Cassa and understood that perhaps his sense of loss was blinding him. It hurt him beyond measure that they would lose their home; yet home without the lights was not home. “Cassa, forgive me. My selfishness has cost us time and caused us pain.” Placing his hand on Cassa's heart, he continued, “My life and light are yours to guide and share. We will light the Grand Willow. We will sacrifice our home so magic will live. It will be done as you say.”

Tears poured freely down Cassa's face. Laying her hand over his, she reached up and gave him a lingering kiss, “Together then, let us go onward.”

As dawn approached, Altur and Cassa watched as all the Lighters gathered together. Proud of their courage, Cassa began their journey song as they stepped out of Willow Heart and towards their destiny. Willow Light lay west and about half a day's journey away allowing a few brief stops for rest. 

The Lighters carried on with their journey, forsaking their sorrow and following their leader. A sort of merriment filled their hearts – for they loved to travel. Altur and Cassa alone were aware of the sense of darkness in their surroundings. Where there had been light there was an eerie greyness. Cassa urged her people onward, hastening their progress away from the gloom and wanting to ensure that they would be on time.

It was high noon when they reached Willow Light. Unnatural rain, snow and an evil wind had slowed them down and Ferntress sighed in relief as she saw them approach the Grand Willow, where she was waiting for them. “Come dear ones. There is no time to lose. We must begin the ceremony.”

Cassa looked at Ferntress and beyond, “Where is everyone? We will wait for them so they may watch.”

Ferntress shook her head in sorrow, “They will not come. It is only us who are here. Many are scared, others have perished and more still cannot make it past the evil.”

“But...”

“Come Cassa, let us not lose heart now. We will triumph yet.” Altur grasped her hand and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. 

“Cassa, Altur, we must begin. If you do this you must know that you sacrifice your home – will you still light the Grand Willow?”

Cassa took a deep breath and turned to her people, “Lighters, we have been called. Light up your souls, forget your sorrows. Bring forth the magic – bring forth the light. Let our light be the light of magic. Let our loss be the gain of others. Let our tears bring laughter. Go forth, Lighters!” 

Even as she spoke the words, Cassa felt the light dying in Willow Heart and tears drowned her face as she saw her vision come to life. This would be the end of her people, but at least the rest of Willow Land would be safe. She looked towards Ferntress felt her sorrow and saw her resolve. She sought Altur's eyes and knew instinctively that he felt the light dying as well. 

“The ceremony will go on,” she vowed quietly and together Altur and Cassa flew around the Grand Willow, in spirals. Sparkled dust ran down the bark as they moved. The leaves turned golden, the Willow's bark was alight in a bronze glitter. The Lighters moved into a formation of a tree with a flower inside and a heart within the flower. In a single motion they flew higher, maintaining the formation, over the tree, protecting it and conferring it with their light. Cassa and Altur flew into the centre of the heart. The few spectators below were solemn and in awe of the beautiful sight. The lights were dazzling, and the Grand Willow itself seemed to be alive – a golden light was spreading through its roots and diffusing a sense of joy. Eerie lights that had take residence in the area around them, were disappearing. It was life beginning anew. Ferntress laughed her golden laugh again and the river beyond gurgled in unison. 

Cassa watched as all of Willow Land was encompassed in their light. She could see the evil move away. She saw laughter and fearlessness return to the land. She felt the joy of life as she spun her light with Altur's. She needed to hold on for just a while longer. She looked at her people and through their song, sent them love and gratitude. She looked at Altur and silently told him she loved him more than life itself. She saw again, her vision. 

It was time. She couldn't save their home but she would save her people. Quickly she gathered her essence and sough the presence of the evil. She wove her light and trapped the soul of the enemy in Willow Heart, her home. It pained her to have that evil in her home land, but it was inevitable. Only there, with the magic of their lights, their ancestry and the shimmer could the evil be contained. With quickening pace, Cassa summoned all her light and sent it forth from Willow Land to Willow Heart and barred the evil in a light prison it could not escape. She felt the light escape her soul and sank towards the earth. The Lighters' song had ended, but the Lighters themselves were alight and alive! She had saved them. She felt Altur's hand hold her before she hit the earth – he was safe too. She looked at him smiling, as her eyes closed. 

Altur watched her smile. She had saved them. He didn’t know how, but knew it had cost her her life. The sorrow he felt was beyond him. He felt dead, alive. He heard her last message in her smile and heard his voice speak words that were his, but not his, “ Lighters arise! Lighters awaken! Lighters alight! The evil has been contained. The shimmers and a prison of light hold it in Willow Heart. Our home is lost to us, but our magic and light are with us still. Cassa, sends us this gift. Homeless we are but gifted we remain.” He could say no more. He knew he must lead his people but did not know how. Around him, Lighters were mourning as he held on tightly to Cassa. 

“There is hope yet, brave one.” It was Ferntress. “Cassa, will live again.”

Altur looked up, hope threatening to surface. He said nothing, just waited to hear more from their friend.

“Altur, we have much to do. For now, Willow Land is safe and my people and the Lighters will take care of all the tasks at hand. We must journey.” 

Altur couldn't move. He wouldn't leave his wife. 

“Look carefully Altur, there is yet a spark in her soul. Let her rest. We will bring her the Heart of Willow from yonder. Make haste, lest we cannot help her.”

Altur looked at Cassa and the smile on her tranquil face. He laid her gently at the base of the Grand Willow. He magicked a shrine of light around her to protect her. He would journey, forever if that was what it took, to light that one spark that remained in her. To light her life – and his. 

Relax, you’ve got a friend

About a year ago, I saw an advertisement with the phrase “Relax, you’ve got a friend” which on its own is a decent catch line. Add to this, a visual of a determined and solemn looking girl making her way against the backdrop of a few green hills. On her back she is carrying a smaller, rosy cheeked, and chubby girl who is resting her head against the older girl's back. The piggy-back traveller has her eyes shut displaying a complete satisfaction with her helper, as if aware that she is in safe hands. Now, you have a winner!

The advertisement always strikes a chord with me, perhaps because it brings back memories of a similar feeling, of being taken care of. Picture a cosy bed with blankets and pillows neatly arranged, and a small baby girl – barely a year old, right at the middle of it. Dressed in a baby-pink frock, lying on her back, her tiny toed feet and legs curl forming a diamond shape. A mischievous almost-smile touches her lips as she stretches her dimpled, soft hands towards the gentle and curious hands that reach out for her. Next to her, propped on a pillow is a taller, four-year old girl. She has big, fawn eyes, well defined lips for her age, and an expression of confidence, as she clasps the hand that has groped hers in a tight clutch. She leans over and tests the smile on her baby sisters face by tickling her. A gurgling flow of laughter rumbles out of the babe. Delighted, she hugs the baby and plants a kiss against her cheek, her curly hair tumbling over in laughter. In a moment she moves back, ever caring and resumes her role as observer and protector.

Several years later, the younger sister is on stage for a dance competition. She is excited but nervous. The judge and crowds look at her - some expectantly, some dismissively. Her eyes rove, as she introduces her piece, and come to rest at a pair of big, brown eyes. They are smiling at her, encouraging and promising that all will be well: a little comfort for the little, troubled soul. And then disappointment at loss, and yet there next to her is that strong hand holding her hand again. A soft voice explaining that some more effort next time will make her better. A reassuring “it's okay,” making it clear that loss doesn't indicate failure – an explanation that is followed by a promise of help and a smile on both faces.

Another visual: The young girl is devastated, her sister is weeping. A feeling of despair awakens in her. She approaches the tearful, round eyes that have hidden themselves under a pair of delicate hands. She prods her sister willing her to look up. There is no response. The young girl knows she is the reason her sister is sad. She turns her gaze towards the book she has just torn in a fit of rage; her sisters favourite book and she is so sorry. She approaches her sister again and pats her head as she says sorry. Angry and reproachful her sister looks up and sees her making attempts to fix the book. They are both laughing in a few minutes. All is well in the world.

Times of playing tricks together, dancing together, playing together. Times together and times apart but a surety that that hand will always be there to guide and hold as required to cherish and love all the time. A real life feeling of relax, you’ve got a sister!

Riding the Bullet

"Riding the bullet” – a simple phrase that calls to mind the horror novel by Stephen King. And yet, it offers another perspective, a little less nightmarish and just as exciting. Yes, I’m talking about riding the bullet - a Royal Enfield Bullet.

Feel the thump; ride the wind; kick to start, start to ride, ride to live, and live to ride- these phrases can only have special meaning to a true rider. So what sets apart regular motor bikers and the die hard riders?

Harish Kavirajan is a true rider. His first ride was on a Java, way back in 1983. A young man’s few rides have now transformed and matured into a passionate lifestyle and hobby. Harish's journey, from the Czech Java to Royal Enfield Bullets, has been interspersed with various other bikes, including scooters (a Lambretta, a Vespa , and a Vijay super), a Honda CB600 and a Yamaha RX135. In 2002, Royal Enfield stamped its mark on his riding career, with a 350cc Thunderbird. Royal Enfield’s robust technology that goes back to the 1940s, and its uniqueness as the only bike in the world with a 500cc single cylinder engine, form the basis for its alluring qualities. Unlike Harley Davidsons, Bullets are readily available in the Indian market and are not gas guzzlers, adding to their appeal. It is no wonder then that the Thunderbird, an A500cc Cast Iron, an A500 LB Machismo, an A350 Machismo and two Lightning 535s are prominent in Harish's motor bike portfolio.


The A500 Machismo
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000


The 500cc Cast Iron
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000


The Two Lightning 535s
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000

For Harish, the preference of biking to other means of travel lies in simple concepts: "cars are boring, the bus is crowded, trucks are too big for one person, and mopeds are for girls." On a more serious note, Harish believes travelling on a bike is special – “the speed, the wind, the freedom” of a bike ride is consummate, its low fuel consumption only adds to its appeal. Harish iterates that with a bike ride the advantage of navigating through traffic, especially on narrow roads and lanes, is not only convenient but provides a chance for “off-roading” and of course, "a guy on a great looking bike is always bound to get a fair maiden’s attention!"

On average, Harish spends four hours a week on maintaining his bike. These four hours ensure that the bike is clean and any repairs or faults are fixed. For someone who has spent numerous years embracing bikes, designing his own custom bike was the next big step and the A350 Machismo is his stepping stone into customizing a bike – with work being put into the suspension, handling, performance and luggage carrying areas

The Custom A350 Machismo
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, 2010


Riding the A350
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, 2010

After a quick chat with Harish, about bikes and his experience with them, the obvious questions of favourite ride and a favourite bike pop up, and it's no surprise that the answers to these questions are Leh and (less obviously, for those who are not familiar with it) the Royal Enfield Cast Iron 500. Harish has biked to Leh three times, but the first time claims top prize in being special in every way and perhaps also because it was the Cast Iron he rode.


Harish Leh 2000
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000


The Bikers crew
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000


The 500cc cast iron against the backdrop of mountains
photo courtesy of Harish Kavirajan, Leh 2000

Harish’s passion for riding sets him apart from other riders because it is now a natural part of his life. As a member of the Lightning 535 club (an elite club for owners of Lightning 535 bullets), Harish is part of a group of riders who regularly bike to various destinations, over select weekends. He is currently also a partner and member of Just4Rides (www.just4rides.com), a company that specialises in tours, on Royal Enfield Bullets, to different parts of India, hoping to let the riders experience the adventures of a lifetime. Riding offers Harish a way to express personality - be it through the style of riding, the sound of the bike or simply the way the bike is decked. It would be sufficient to say that a bike ride is a ride that offers perfection!

The Highway, or the Greenway

Green has always been one of my favourite colours. The hues and shades it offers stand out in any environment- ocean, mountain, savannah or forest…and despite the odds even in the city.

It’s interesting though that many people today do not understand the value of a green environment. Appreciation for its beauty, scientific and natural value seems to thin out by the minute. The sacrifice of nature and wildlife for human “development”, greed and dirty politics is progressing at such great pace that emaciated flora and fauna is the grim future that awaits us. Over the years East Africa has been at the forefront of environmental disasters. The Mau forest and Nairobi city itself are stark examples of things going awry. Not surprisingly a UNESCO world heritage site is now under threat- The Serengeti National Park. A controversial highway is set to be built through the national park cutting across the migratory paths of approximately two million wildebeest that cross over from the Serengeti to the Maasai Mara in search of food. This annual spectacle is one of the natural wonders of the world and plays a major role in the tourism and economic industries of both Kenya and Tanzania.

This isn’t the first threat that the Serengeti has faced but perhaps it is the most dangerous. The Tanzanian president, Mr. Kikwete has approved the plan to build a non-paved highway through the Serengeti national park dismissing world outrage and concern along with Nyerere doctrines as baseless. The Environment Impact assessment for his decision must be one of the worst in EIA history and offers no realistic solutions to the impact of the proposed highway. Development for any country is important but development must make sense in the long run as well. Naturalists and Environmentalists have shown that an alternate route – the southern route is a viable and more profitable solution. So why is the government of Tanzania still persisting on building the Serengeti highway? Three critical reasons come to mind,

1. Mining interests in the region

2. Ensuring a campaign promise made in 2005 is fulfilled and that the road will win more votes by easing the transport requirements of businesses by linking Musumba and Arusha.

3. Asserting government power by defying world recommendation

But the above three reasons are not justification enough to call forth a long term catastrophe.

A road through the National park is bound to increase the animal road kills. Roads to Mikumi National park in Zambia(5000 animal deaths per year), Tsavo (over 100 species per day) and even Bandipur in India (where animal road kills are said to exceed the poaching numbers) are just a few examples of where roads have lead to serious loss of animal life due to accidents. Many of you are familiar with the Maasai Mara. The July-September season is migration time and the pathways and roads through the park are heavily populated by wildebeest and zebra. Recently I got the chance to see this spectacle, and the thought of heavy commercial trucks through this site was more than horrifying. One combi can manage to kill atleast three of these animals in every herd. Now just imagine twenty to thirty trucks driving on a single stretch of road that has thousands of wildebeests’ crossing...I see blood. I see death.

Earlier this year Tanzania saw its proposal to sell off ivory revoked at the CITES meeting. Tanzania already has a problem, a growing problem, with poaching. A highway is a sure way of easing access for poachers and game hunters to their prey. The ease of transporting poacher’s loot will simply act as a catalyst for quick hauls and increase security problems in the region.

If the Tanzanian people are to benefit from the project, the southern route will serve five times the number of people (2,278,000 vs. 431,000). The southern route already has the infrastructure to support such a construction (fuel, lodging and so on) and can utilize existing roads reducing the cost of the entire project. The road is also likely to attract more donor-funding and has the greatest advantage of not interfering with the Serengeti ecosystem.

The increased pressure on the eco-system and natural habitat will eventually have a global impact. Increased infrastructure and agriculture in the area is bound to affect weather patterns, food cycles and the order of things radically.

The Serengeti National park, as a UNESCO world heritage site and as part of the seven world’s natural wonders, provides Tanzania with marketing for its country and boosts its tourism industry. Destroying this will definitely lead to a fall in the reputation of the country and worse still a boycott of tourism in the region resulting in a serious and detrimental loss of revenue for Tanzania and Kenya.

Human-wildlife conflict is such a clichéd phrase in this age and time simply because it is a very real and common problem, especially for us in Africa and in India where we have such diverse eco-systems. A commercial road through this area will increase this conflict. Settlements and an increasing human presence in the area, along with constructions of human amenities and an increase in noise and pollution will unnerve animals and could lead to attacks from both sides. As the animals cross through human populated areas any damage will result in a deterioration of the co-habitance

The above are only some of the reasons why the highway is a bad idea. Many of you reading this might wonder why a highway in some remote place in Tanzania should be of importance to you. Stop wondering. This road is, perhaps later than sooner, going to affect you. A reduction in tourism in East Africa, an increase in the crime rate through poaching, an increase in pollution, a dictatorial like regime and a loss of reputation is only the beginning of the problems the highway spearheads.

Green is not only one of my favourite colours it is also a colour that symbolizes new things and life. Imagine a future where you cannot breathe fresh air, a future where you cannot go on a safari, a future where research is restricted, a future where breathing would be stifling.

To quote his holiness the Dalai Lama, “Peace and the survival of life on earth as we know it are threatened by human activities that lack a commitment to humanitarian values. Destruction of nature and natural resources results from ignorance, greed and lack of respect for the earths’ living things.” It is time to end this war with nature. As a resident of East Africa and the world, take a stand and say YES to the greenway… and to life!

Kindly sign the petition to stop the highway

http://www.change.org/petitions/view/stop_the_serengeti_highway

for more information http://www.savetheserengeti.org

The Serengeti Highway

Over the last month or so there has been a growing interest on Africa, with focus on the world cup, and of course the highly controversial Serengeti highway.

The world cup has come and gone having enjoyed the attention of the world at large. The proposed Serengeti Highway and the consequences that are bound to follow such a construction are here to stay and should be of major concern to the people of Tanzania, East Africa, and the rest of the world.

The Serengeti National Park is a UNESCO world heritage site. It is home to vast species of fauna and hosts approximately seventy larger mammal species. It provides an ecosystem whose diversity cannot be matched. 

The Serengeti National park in its entirety is under threat.

News of the proposed Serengeti highway is sparking outrage around the world. The highway that is meant to connect Arusha and Musumba is a fulfilment of a political campaign promise. This highway, officials argue will run through the northern part of the Serengeti and will not disrupt the annual wildebeest migration to and from the Maasai Mara. Officials continue saying that the road will provide residents along the area with much needed development and offer great benefits. Ministers have been quoted in various articles stating that studies and research have been conducted and there will be no impact on the wildlife. The results of the same studies are nowhere to be seen.

Conservationists and environmentalists, on the other hand, have been able to show how the proposed highway will definitely impact the migration, the ecosystem and in the long run a whole lot more.

As a concerned resident of East Africa and as someone who has watched the migration and been to the Maasai Mara, there are numerous thoughts that come to mind.

- An intrusion into wildlife conserved space is bound to increase the already fragile balance between humans and wildlife. Human-wildlife conflict is already a grave concern. Further encroachment on free land will mean an increase in this conflict (which is already a great strain on any environmental institute or organization – governmental or non-governmental). Can the Tanzanian & Kenyan governments handle this increase and maintain their tourist incomes?

- It seems very likely that if this highway is built, more governments in the region, continent and perhaps the world will go ahead and have infrastructures built within national reserves, game parks and even sanctuaries. Are we then going to wipe out entire species? This seems very likely and if it comes into play, we are looking at a decline in tourism, a decline in research and scientific activity in the area, a decline in avenues for medical and other research, a loss of knowledge for us and future generations, and a complete mess of food cycles and ecosystems.

- Tanzania already has a problem with poaching. Can the government proposing the highway give the world a guarantee that the road will not increase the ease with which animals - the “endangered African elephant” especially - will be poached. Poachers are sure to have easier access into the game park and a much easier way to transport out their “loot”. Is this highway then a path to increasing illegal activities such as poaching? A standard example is the Nairobi- Mombasa highway that cuts through Tsavo East and Tsavo West National Parks. The highway and development around it allows poachers and game meat hunters to regularly attack vulnerable animals in the area including the endangered African elephant.

- Arguments that the wildebeest and other migratory animals can still cross a road appear childish. Take for example, a migratory group that stretches a 30KM path – how many cars on the highway will wait for the animals to cross over? How long will they wait? Can the studies and research that have apparently been carried out make a clear statement on the animal road kills that are likely to occur? Statistics from studies done on the Tanzania-Zambia highway that crosses the Mikumi National Park shows that road deaths of animals was estimated at 21•8 road kills per kilometer,per year, once the highway was laid out. Using these figures, we are looking at approximately 5000 deaths per year on a 400 Km highway, by road kills alone. The migratory patterns of these animals is sure to change. Animals are human, noise and pollution shy and with the development of a highway, all three of these factors will be on an increase - human influx, noise from the traffic and pollution from vehicles traversing the road will pronounce, sooner than later, an end to the greatest migration spectacle of the world.

- Garbage. The word may sound trivial but its impact is extremely poisonous. As the number of users on the proposed highway increases, the likelihood of garbage finding itself around the area, is a guarantee. A standard example is the Nairobi National park. The effects of the development in the Kitengela area is pronounced: fewer animal are seen on that end of the park and familiar sites of plastic bags and cartons can be seen flitting across the Savannah. How is the government proposing to handle this potential garbage menace? What impact will the garbage have on animal populations?

The above are perhaps a few of the numerous impacts of the highway. This is a call to East African Governments, The Tanzanian People, All tourist boards and companies and the people of the world to ensure that the Tanzanian Government opts for the alternate route for this highway that passes south of the Serengeti. This route apart from benefiting more people will also remove the pressures from a highly vulnerable ecosystem. I ask that,

- The Tanzanian Government unwaveringly stand by its pledge and signed mandate to protect the UNESCO World Heritage Site and take whatever measures are necessary to stop the highway encroaching on Serengeti space. As the extract below shows:

The United Republic of TANZANIA ratified the UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE CONVENTION on 02 August 1977. This Convention lays down the legal requirements for status, recognition and obligations in respect of WORLD HERITAGE SITES.

TANZANIA, through its government, not only VIOLATES such a significant global 'convention', ...but it also VIOLATES it's own national obligations, as a member of the UNITED NATIONS, by NOT adhering to that organization's charters, treaties and conventions of all related bodies (such as UNESCO) to which TANZANIA is a committed signatory.

- All Tourist Boards and Companies to exert pressure along with their voice of protest to the government of Tanzania. The loss of this park is going to make a dramatic difference and a negative one to tourism and the country's reputation. The highway will also put at risk the economies of both Tanzania and Kenya. The revenues collected by tourism from both these countries cannot be matched by a single highway. It is then time for the Kenyan government and other officials to exert economic and political pressure on the Tanzanian Government to avert this danger. It is time for action.

- NGO’s, Research Institutes, Scientists and Educational institutes to stand against this highway. I call on the aforesaid to make their stance clear, iterating the damage that is likely to occur and re-iterating that there are alternatives that can work as well if not better.

- The East African region which has over the years has been faced with degrading environments and dodgy environmental issues (the Mau forest in Kenya, Tanzania’s move to trade in ivory are just a few example) take a stand. The threat to the Serengeti and other east African sites has become one too many. This is a call to the people of the world to say enough is enough. In Wangari Maathai’s words, “The environment is not about today or tomorrow. The environment is about all the time. It is about the air we breathe. It is about the water we drink.” For the logical people out there, it is time to dig in deeper to the impacts of the environmental damage that this single highway could propagate. It could in the next fifteen or so years determine whether you are able to drink water. It is about whether your children and future generations can reap the benefits of a formidable and matchless ecosystem. It is time for people to stand and say that you will not allow a government to make short sighted selfish decisions.

- The people of Tanzania demand transparency and fairness in all government action, starting here. Can all Tanzanian businesses and people ask for clarity on the research and studies conducted by the government on the impacts of the highway. Can we jointly make a call that the people who carried out this research have open debates with environmentalists, other politicians, statisticians and scientists so we can all better understand the underlying issues.

The above are only some of the impacts and reasons why the proposed Serengeti highway should not be ratified. It is even more concerning that institutes such as the World Bank lack the responsibility and/or authority to force the government to opt for the alternate route. This article is long but needs to be so because there are as many concerns that must be dealt with. For all the sceptics, please feel free to conduct your own research on the issue and make a change.

Green and infrastructure!

A drive down Chiromo road or towards it, and the familiar sight of what was once the International Casino meets you. Museum Hill round-about is no longer what it used to be - once a lush green corner filled with trees and plants, it is now a dreary sight for anyone who has half a brain. And it only gets worse: the trees, that took years to grow and have been part of the magnificent view against the backdrop of the National Museum, are no longer erect, but lay dead and heaped along the road, after being cut off to accommodate the upcoming high-tech road network.

Of course we need the roads! Hell, after spending hours in traffic, I'm sure everyone agrees we need more roads- let's build them! And voila, we have a great plan: great infrastructure being built by the oh, so environment conscious Chinese! Question is, do we really need the needless destruction as well? Is it impossible to improve our transport network, without wanton destruction of our environment? Does development necessitate a needless demolition of our surroundings? Is Nairobi set to become another concrete jungle city?

One might argue that cutting down a "few trees" at one round-about doesn't precedent great disaster, but lets take a look at patterns: State house road - over the last few weeks numerous trees have been cut off on this once beautiful avenue of sorts. One only has to look at Westlands and Parklands (Hurlingham is catching up) to see how many trees have been mutilated over the last few years. I wonder how long our safe havens (for now - Karen, Runda, Loresho etc)will last? (Isn't it a pity we now have specific green areas? (and lavington no longer falls under this list.)) And, no one seems to be questioning these decisions or choices! Where is the famed Green Belt Movement? It seems to me that it is a dead association. What are organizations like NEMA doing? Can they account for the number of random buildings appearing on our skylines, all the office buildings in residential areas and the shoddy infrastructures that have propped up at random corners?

Ever driven down the by-pass joining Mombasa road to Langata? Right next to the National park, the road is an eye-sore, the buildings alongside are ugly, if not horrendous monstrosities. Slums are developing right next to the road and the garbage collecting alongside the park fence is a sight-full! The one good thing about this is KWS's initiative to plant trees - please do become part of this must needed change...

That brings me to something else that is perhaps the most annoying thing about the whole situation - our lack of interest and action. How many people really give a damn that we are becoming a less green, more dirty city? Selfishness to sell land and make money, or buy more buildings and build more things, is so great that we don't seem to be thinking at all. Do we really need to sell land to someone who will build a gigantic structure next to someone's house? Can we think beyond our selfish causes? We are the same people who complain when there is no water flowing from our taps, no rainfall - drought, a high cost of living! And then , when the rain does come, we complain that it is inconsistent, that it is washing away buildings, causing havoc! Think People!!!!! Its time for radical green thinking - you have a responsibility that is beyond you and yours; beyond making money and making it big; beyond leading the rat race - it is a responsibility to life! A life worth living in a green, clean, efficient place! Review your take on the green debate - do something right! We are lucky in Nairobi, things could be a lot worse. Then again, if we don't do something soon then we are bound to be a lot worse than anywhere else!