Sailing through the ages over stormy oceans

The latest book I have been reading is "The Island Civilizations of Polynesia" by "Robert.C.Suggs". It was originally published in 1960, and I believe mine is that very same edition. I got it from Bookworm shop as a worn out second hand copy. Sad to say, the book came to parts while I was trying to read, and I plan to try and glue it back after I am done reading it. 

Now onto the key take-aways. I had later added some more content I could quickly research from Wikipedia and other sources to try and make this an interesting reference.

 The Polynesian islands were populated by people originally from around South East Asia.

The Melanasian islands, New Zealand, Australia and Indonesia had land bridges at some point, whereas the polynesian islands never had. At least this what I recall from the initial sections of how the islands weer populated. So this means the far flung Polynesian islands were majorly populated by a sea faring folk, braving unknown vast oceans and perilous shoals and reefs. The islands themselves were seldom hospitable, and so it must have taken many centuries of deliberate and accidental exploration to finally settle all islands worthy of being settled.

All this was studied on the basis of lots of data comprising of Anthropological data, Linguistic data, and finally lots of ongoing Archaeological evidences that is slowly setting the pieces in its right places. Of course, looking across such a vast swath of time, all evidences tend to have a huge margin for error, which is kind of taken for granted in this line of business.

Around the time of Word War II, the linguists of the world had researched and identified that the Polynesian language originated from Proto-Indonesian, and each island has since developed its own dialects. By figuring out the similarity between the various dialects, we have been able to underscore or sometimes question the different ages at which the different islands were settled and where the settlers came from.

Image source

Now I'll like to talk about some interesting tit bits I could remember about the various islands themselves:

The island known as Marquesas in the modern day, with the name attributed to its colonial discoverers, is believed to be the oldest settlement in the Polynesian triangle. By comparing various artifacts found on this island against those found on the other islands, a lot of migration path information has been derived by the archaeologists over the last century.

The Samoans ( I always read it first as Samosa ) developed a centralized village system with leaders claiming title rather than lineage, whereas their neighbours the Tongans developed a lineage based isolated family units. The Tongans were fierce warriors and often used as mercenaries in Fiji. This difference is mainly owing to the differences in the natural habitat of the two islands. While Samoa had huge tracts of fertile land capable surrounded by all other resources like clean water and quarries, Tonga had an its resources split across the islands. The split caused family units surrounding that area to become the sole source of this resource to the central authority, and they traded or fought for the remaining ones.

The Samoans ended up building huge fortified villages and large temples for their deities as the local leader was capable of feeding a huge number of workers for lengthy periods of time due to the huge surplus in food production. The Tongans were largely left to producing the bare minimum required and became adept at fighting wars.

Samoa and Tonga were the Western Polynesian islands from where the culture spread further to the east to the likes of Tahiti and Hawaii.

I didn't feel much elated about the Tahitians and Hawaiians as they seemed to build quite a good centralized society banking on good fertile lands, building large temples and fighting brutal wars for resources and politics. Every day civilization for you.. But of course the big islands had their own share of old stories of settlement, death and wars by which the dominant settlement was achieved.

The story of the Easter Islands is a complete different thing of its own. It has always been mired in controversy over the Moai statues. The wild theories themselves are so much fun to read. But the author here being a professional, quickly dismissed all of them and got to the business of using stratigraphic data to established the mode of settlement and probable ages. He quickly explains that unlike the other islands to its west, this eastern island was settled directly by the inhabitants of Marquesas Islands. Also, due to the lack of any proper vegetation and the islands being largely volcanic in nature, the unique statues and other petroglyphs paint a completely different landscape.

Then came the very interesting myths of the Moa birds and the Maori on the New Zealand, and their valour against the British colonizers. It all provided me lots of interesting topics to look out for further reading.

The varied stories of the Polynesians keeps telling us that the same set of people from the same areas or sometimes from the same family, end up in so many different ways, shaped by their land and their times. The arrival of the Europeans which we all consider as a major interruption in all such cultures wouldn't be the first, as they went through the cycle of discovering new lands, and often leaving old ones behind. But then they are not comparable as the former was more permanent, directed and intelligent erasure of roots. The journeying and discoveries only lead to expansion of culture in comparison. Needless to say, the arrival and settlement of the Europeans, often for the purpose of whaling, trading and general missionary purposes simply decimated the population with communicable diseases and forced eradication of culture.

I am not really exposed to any current day political elements or sentiments of the Polynesians. But seeing that some islands are still under the control of the British or the French, I can't stop wondering how hot things are in the idyllic vacation islands of the world.

Maduraikku pogathedee..

After pacing around in the scorching heat of Madurai, I finally find myself in the temple complex of the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil.

The first thing that catches my attention is the blissful ecosystem with the peepals and the neems hanging over the ever clean tiled street surrounding the  Amman Kovil. I would consider myself a criminal if I ever understated the bliss and calm around. The soothing hymns floating along keeps the air even more rhythmic.

For those with an appetite there are many options. But right now I am after the famous Jigardanda alone. Waiting for some space to be made after the heavy lunch I had at the wedding, not to forget the extra load of soft drinks and tea that I had.

The experience becomes even more blissful after couple of hours of roaming along the streets under the hot sun, carrying a sizeable bag. The heat is slowly getting on me, and sweat flows down my face but I was strolling slowly.

I had been to the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil a couple of times before this, and I still had around three hours before my train back to Bangalore. Having lots of time helped me observe many things around me. The hawkers selling  a variety of colourful bangles and cosmetics passed by with their wares, and were followed by a father holding his son's hands and telling him stories while walking around the compound. I wondered how many times my father would have held my hands and took me to umpteen places telling me fake stories to prevent me from running away ;) That moment, I wished to be home, to stop roaming and sit besides him and listen to the stories that he has to tell now.

Snapping out of my emotional whirlpool after a moment, I decided to take a good look at the gopuram. I think it was the South one I visited first. After a few attempts at clicking photos, I felt like an idiot and decided to examine the art work with my eyes. Roving my eyes over the large structure made my neck pain and I decided to take in the sight at ease. So, very much unlike my usual practice to stand and walk for long hours, I decided to sit down and enjoy the marvel in front of me. Nothing else was in my mind when I was immersed in the beauty of the ancient construction. Each demon, each God, every mythical figure in it seemed to weave stories in my head as the facts about Madurai's history kept rolling into my head from some storage. I might even have had a full blown historical and artistic conversation within my head before I decided to snap out of it and tweeted the pic of the beautiful tower :)

the towering beauty

Seeing me sitting on the footsteps of a closed shop, staring at the sky, a couple of roadside palmists approached me and tried to make me take the bait by offering to predict my career, matrimonial ventures and even going as far as claiming that from my face it was clear something big was coming :) I managed to break out of their circle and walked to the next tower. On the way, I found a hand loom showroom where I decided to check out sarees for Amma and found even more beautiful ones than the ones I had bought from Pothy's a while ago. But after getting a firm scolding from Amma for overpurchasing I managed to filter only two good sarees from that shop and moved on.

I didn't find the other towers to be as imposing as the Southern one, but they were pretty good as well. I soon found myself approaching the shopping areas and bagged some Amla and also managed to down a tasty cup of Jigardanda

 before I decided that I had eaten too much and started walking in the direction of the railway station, hoping I will take a couple of hours to reach. But it so happened that the railway station was too close :(

Tired after all the walk and all the food, I dropped my bag and sat down beside the platform, tweeting and whatsapping a bit even as my phone battery threatened to die out soon. All of sudden it started raining and I had to pick up everything and move to the first platform, grumbling all the way. My eager eyes soon found a notice which read "AC waiting room. Rs.10/- per hour. Tickets available at Platform I". It was pasted outside the waiting room, and so I guessed it meant I had to take the tickets from the ticket counter and went in search of it. Phew, it was a near 10 minute tired walk to get there and after another 5 minutes in the queue, the person at the ticket counter informed me that the tickets were available at the waiting room itself. I smiled a weak smile, thanked him and trudged back.

What followed was an hour of a repacking, recharging and telling the stories to all my friends. I stayed some extra time in the AC room until the train finally arranged and I had an uneventful journey besides a fully loaded

The murukkus, paan packets, kaaracheeva packet and couple of sarees bulged my bag as I put myself to a tough sleep among the chug-chug of the railgaadi :)

sayanora

lady in the shiny armor

She lie there writhing in pain. The arrow had gone through her thigh. The armor was split at the joints. She cursed the greedy blacksmiths of Stoneville. If she gets out of this mess alive, she would surely love to pay them a visit and take off their tiny fingers as a 'souvenir'.

Right now, she had bigger troubles to deal with. The thundering horde of horsemen were butchering her lot in huge numbers. The wild ones had caught them in an unexpected trap. She realized with horror that shed had to make a final stand and keep the horsemen away from the fleeing peasants, further down the trail.

The wild men would for sure slaughter them if she let them through. She had absolutely no doubts on that. The last raid by one of those tribes had taught everyone what to expect from these men. She remembered how the council had initially thought that the wild men can be bought. But they went horribly wrong as the wild men systematically looted and burned down every house in the village that was handed over to them as part of the treaty last time. She was a trainee back then and remembers in horror how the brave warriors returned home, their usually  proud heads hung low in shame and self loathing.

That was ten years ago. Now a front line commander, Laura faced an even more organized and mobile horde. She had got reports of their overwhelmingly fast progress through the countryside, wiping out villages and forts that stood in their way.There were suspicions that these men were different from those they faced last time, and seemed well organized and trained. The spymaster had sent instructions to all field commanders to hold them at all costs by 'improvising' strategies.

Laura knew what it meant. The council has completely failed to read the enemy's strategies and have left the field commanders to their own devices to handle the threat. She managed to climb on a rock to get a better view of the battlefield. It hurt like hell, but she managed to cling on. She could make out a couple of her divisions still in formation, while the others seemed to be a mix of survivors driven in from other divisions. The confusion was obvious as she couldn't make out any of them in formations. If this continued, they would last hardly for an hour. She watched as more and more horsemen in shiny black leather armor poured into the scene.

She hurriedly blew her horn three times loudly to signal her divisions. She wanted them to move closer to each other and cover the flanks of the survivors. She looked out for the shiny orange helmet of Lawrence, her most trusted lieutenant. She caught sight of his bulky torso cutting down enemies and moving his division into formation. She breathed a sigh of relief, as slowly both her divisions drove the enemies out and closed the flanks protecting the confused survivors. Someone in the middle seemed to be rallying the survivors in supporting the divisions with archers. Laura was curious and wanted to meet this guy once the ranks closed in on her.

For now, the survivors were secure and actively participating in the battle. But what should she do next to stem the advance? Was this the main force or just some diversion? She was completely cut off from the intelligence network. She also wondered if she could form a unit strong enough to retreat out to safety and re-organize for a counter-attack. Time was short and she could feel her grips weakening as the grass beneath her became thick with warm blood. She eyed Lawrence signalling to her frantically before the darkness filled her eyes.

Chasing the monsoon - Season 5

Morning 4 AM:- I woke up with bleary eyes, staring at an unfamiliar roof. It took me a while to figure out where I was. I could make out the outline of the apartment we were put up in Pune. I must have slept like a log for at least 3 hours. Not enough, but given the length of journey lying ahead of us, I was quite content.

Day 2 planning started after a couple of hours once the other chasers were woken up from deep slumber.

I was hungry for adventure and the first day's lengthy rides along the green mountainous roads in the rain were just recce as far as I was concerned. We set out targets for the second day:- Lohagad and Lonavala. It took lots of back and forth discussions to get the routes and schedule right. Finally, the plan was made to hit the two spots asap and head onto Mumbai for the night. I was super excited at the prospects of this plan. I haven't been to Mumbai after a very short visit while waiting for our transit flight to Kochi when I was in my sixth grade. The distance and the prospect of the wild chase entering a large crowded city was challenging, but I trusted my mates who knew Mumbai well. We were off soon, powered by the wonderful Poha, Misal pava and Idly.

Around 60kms from Pune, Lohagad has been in my sights for more than a year now. I had fallen in love with the fort just by visual appeal.

A random album in facebook, narrative by a friend, and follow up research, all that ran through my mind as we made our way through the inviting Mumbai-Pune highway gunning our engines in high spirits.

 

The regular route to Lohagad involved a decent trek. The trek promised to be mesmerizing in the monsoon, and we were already proven monsoon chasers. The image of the lush green routes dripping with fresh rainwater was too exciting to ignore. But we had a practical problem to solve. Lohagad lay right in the path to Lonavala and if we chose to trek the Lohagad, all our plans would get delayed. The distance to Lonavala and Mumbai would never get covered if we were to walk up the Lohagad. So I reluctantly agreed to the plan to 'ride through' Lohagad and move onto Lonavala. At least that is what we could come up, using Google Maps for guidance.

The route to Lohagad takes a deviation from the highway at a point and goes through Kachcha roads and villages. In spite of being an extended weekend, there didn't seem to be much of a crowd. Only children walking along the road going to school or village women carrying pots of water on their heads were visible throughout the route. We were just beginning to wonder why we were the only people on vehicles, when we almost fell into the first ditch. Technically a pothole, but practically it was a well.

We had ourselves deep in dirt when the first pothole led to many more of varying sizes and complexities. Large ditches of mud and puddles meant we crawled through slowly, trying not to fall and make a scene in front of the pretty girls walking in large groups, around and through the same puddles. Keeping our minds firmly on the road and grips on the handles, we moved slowly to the tiny waterfall on the way. I was riding the unicorn rented from a friend of Sumeet, one of the three chasers. Keeping it in control was no small matter. After the trip, I would observe significant muscle development in the region of my right forearm, all thanks to the wonderful accelerator of this unicorn.

Anyway, no sooner had we taken a few customary clicks at the crowded waterfall, the heavens opened up and the crowd of youngsters vanished under rain coats and umbrellas. I felt very jealous. While they laughed and walked up the scenic rocky routes under their raincoats,

we had an almost impossible task to ride the slick FZ and the monstrously unyielding Unicorn up the 60 degree slope that was fast turning into a river of mud through slippery rocks the size of  footballs. We stopped at a small shop to ask some locals if we could ride the bikes all the way to the top and continue to Lonavala. The local fellows in the shop made a mockery of us and asked us to take an auto. Hearing that, all our frustration turned to pure determination and we rode ahead with renewed vigour and confidence, with only the cold rain leaving no spot warm on us.

And so started the long and precarious ride. I had never in my life attempted such adventures with bikes, and never so far away with someone else's bikes. The unicorn's accelerator too didn't help in making it any easier to traverse the boulders and maneuver on the slippery mud. We made slow progress and to the amazement of the small groups of trekkers, we managed to climb most of the hill without much incidents, apart from a few times when we had to push the bikes up to avoid slipping all the way down. Then we came to this..

My heart sank on seeing it. But there was no turning back. I could in no way rely on my physical strength to push the heavy unicorn up this one. We both gave it our best to climb up the almost 75 degree mess. There were no foot holds, no even surface. Only deep sticky mud with lots of loose rocks. Even after many attempts, we found ourselves close to the foot of this small hill, bikes already covered in thick layers of mud and hot fumes emanating from the engines. Fortunately for me, a local boy came along and offered to help. He took over my bike and I resorted to supporting him by guiding and pushing from the back. Aswin did the same to the lighter FZ while Sumeet was on the saddle. Slowly, painfully, we pushed both the bikes up the 50m slope. Puffing, panting and covered in mud, we were close to exhaustion. But relieved off the mortal danger we were in, we thanked the boy and paid him Rs 100.

The road began there and all the tension and pressure of the dangerous climb were soon forgotten as we rode freely through the heavy rains, surprising many a gang of trekkers who would have been basking in the glory of having climbed that hellish path. Yes, we did the ultimate. We rode on heavy bikes through that difficult-to-climb path. Our euphoria and excitement was back. I could imagine myself as the heavy cavalry of Hannibal that traversed the impossible Alps to launch a surprise attack at the Romans. Soon we had our fort in sights, and were more than ready to unleash ourselves on it.

The trek up the steps of the Lohagad was refreshing after two days on the bike saddle. I could feel the fresh oxygen energize every cell of my body as my mind was seduced by the naked beauty of nature that was draped in the thin veils of fog that hung almost everywhere. Strategically crafted pathways, bastions, towers, large gates, all covered in slippery green moss gave an eerie feeling to the entire place.

Only the thick white fog that hung everywhere and the water that flowed down the steps reminded one that the fort was no longer operational. But standing at an isolated tower, I got goosebumps imagining being under the watchful eyes of hundreds of carefully positioned guards of Sivaji.




Needless to say, I was in love with the fort in its wintery, foggy, wet outfit. But I also wanted to love its green version and marked in my heart to revisit the fort in another season. As usual, I had to be dragged out of the fort by my mates. That was a fort we fought hard to conquer! I had to say goodbye with a heavy heart..

Soon, we were on our way to Lonavala. There wasn't much of interest there. Tiger's leap was the only point that was recommended. But the heavy rains and thick fog which had begun rolling all over the region made it inaccessible to us. We had a long way ahead and decided to skip most of the places,and apart from a beautiful waterfall we stumbled upon by the road side, we mostly focussed on riding to Aamchi Mumbai..

some costly snacks

The roads were perfect, the scenery mesmerizing and the rain kept constant companion. As I was wondering how Maharashtra manages to provide such good roads everywhere, we hit an even wider road with mind blowing quality of lanes and it smelled of international quality. I was taken aback and we riders exchanged amused glances while maintaining the bikes at top speed.

It was not until we noticed the angry stares and constant honking of trucks and cars that we stopped to think. Then it stuck us.

We were in the Mumbai-Pune expressway. Wow!!! Jackpot!! Wait.. what did that board read? "Two-Wheelers Prohibited." Shit. We realized that if caught, it would not just be a matter of paying up. Three mud covered, unkempt youngsters claiming to be engineers from Bangalore riding a rented bike from Pune with almost no papers and a Karnataka registered bike in someone else's name, speeding at 100kmph in the heavy rains on the expressway on Aug 16th would need a lot of explaining.

the illegitimate ones..

 
That was exactly when the police jeep we saw earlier came round the corner, and I thought I could see the wicked smile on the officer's face. We were screwed..

To be Continued..

A short movie on history of the Israel/Palestine conflict

Usually I never write about videos and other social media content I find on facebook and leave it to the people who notice it to enjoy it.

But rarely, I come across class material that makes me want to shout to the world - "Bloody go and watch this".

Here is one such

This Land Is Mine from Nina Paley on Vimeo.

I have never in my life seen such a clear illustration that details the long history of a political and humanitarian conflict.

Centuries of bloodshed, by various tribesmen, men of religion and ethnicity, all kill each other for the same piece of land, singing the same piece of shit song about peace and prosperity for everyone.

ha, could things be any more clear?

What is good life?

Often we encounter words like "Fine dining" "good life" "exotic" etc?
And this is usually tied up to European or European like facilities, life style, locations etc.

I was wondering why this relation of 'fine' and 'good' to Europe and related 'fine' stuff.
The first question I tend to ask myself is - "Why only Europe"? Isn't the life you live now good enough for you? What about the ameer businessmen and politicians, the filthy rich Americans, powerful industrialists and so on and so off.. ? Everyone of them have a plethora of things that you don't have, but still you see them involving in a 'good life' , 'fine life' conversation with Europe-related artifacts.

Stupidity. Ignorance. That is what I call all these.

Every rich and filthy rich person wants to earn more money and relax with good food and comfortable facilities. C'mon that is nothing they can't buy. But still the lure of the European facilities pull them to the common bucket. Human beings turn into a more monotonic and predictable species as years wear off its morality and drain it off its humanity.

So the filthy rich can't complain about not having a fine life everyday. Yeah, they are well above the fine life of a poor man.

So can a poor man dream about the fine life of Europe? No, he too would be just a fool to follow such aspirations. A filthy rich guy is already filthy and insulated from the pleasures of simple life by applying the wax of wealth over his senses. But a poor man? Though under lots of pain and in constant struggle against hundreds of day-to-day problems and oppression of all kinds, he is the one who is closest to the simplest pleasures of life and he would be stuck in an eternal cycle of pain if he yearns to live the 'fine' life which in actuality is not fine at all..

Having observed all the human stupidity and lack of insight, why don't I move over to the bloody question of the relation between fine life and Europe? Yeah, here is the answer - The Europeans are and were bloody rich for centuries owing to the continuous pillaging and merciless exploitation of colonies in the name of colonialism/imperialism. In the name of countless civilizations and scientific marvels that were blown to smithereens by this handful of money hungry tribes, they OUGHT to be bloody rich.. and I really mean BLOODY(you know, with the blood and gore sticking to each coin of gold)..
... .... .... .... .... .... ...(catching a breath)

They come in all sizes and shapes..

Alright,so they had good wine, great food, some wonderful culinary skills and traditions. It is a good way of life if you fancy it, but it is not THE fine life. Fine life is even in the small things that you do. For example, my ability to write such a lengthy blog post on this topic in office hours on an internet connection paid for by my employer, while getting paid every month, for my facilities, the ability to purchase some of the things I wish to have..etc etc. I consider this a good life. It can be better, but it still is good life. I am sure 98% of readers of this have a good life too..

So there it is. That is what I think of the entire thing about having a good life. You have almost everything you want to be happy with but most of what you don't have are those which you don't want anyway.
Now you don't have any excuse for not having a good life and to feed more money to those .. ( ok enough of the Europe bashing.)

Disclaimer:- The entire view of this post is based on the momentary train of thoughts of the author. The blog or its owner is not responsible or liable for any hurt feelings or other complaints that the readers might have. The author is aware that this has been a closed observation of matters, but cohesion turns your LED to LASER, so why not this article :D

ciao

Iron Sky - A review

I liked the film a lot. For the records, I am a world war 2 buff. My head is stuffed with data about weapons, history, tactics, profiles of important people, propaganda material, consequences and fallouts of the war etc etc

The movie goes like this. After the defeat in World War 2, the Nazis escape to the dark side of moon and settle there. They teach their offspring the philosophy of the Aryan supremacy and build up large military forces using a new fuel Helium-3. The kids believe that they will go back and teach peace and equality to the world. Also they are shown a short clipping of Charlie Chaplin's "The Great Dictator" , and are told how the great film captures the idea of the dictator saving the world.

Now, things go wrong when a black american model is sent to the moon as a part of.. a re-election campaign, and is caught by the Nazis. The president who sent him resembles none other than.. Sarah Palin, in terms of looks and intellect. The dialogues are funny and quite sarcastic in nature.

Even the UN, where each countries' representative is chided and sarcastically represented, makes a hilarious combination. No need to say, we have a turbaned fellow representing India.

All hell breaks loose when the Nazis decide to attack Earth. What follows is a hilarious warfare that would throw you off your seat if you can make connections to the real world scenarios.

I won't venture further for the fear of giving spoilers. The movie is good. A tad slow at the end, but interesting and hilarious throughout. Highly recommended. My rating is 8/10...

Oh yeah, if you watched the Untergang or the famous Hitler scene from it dubbed into umpteen things, you have something here..

Vinlandsaga

I am pretty gaaga-googoo on my mind these days and hence this craving for norse adventures sprouted up in my mind..

Of the gallant sagas of the northmen, is my mind obsessed with these days. So colourful and vibrant are some of the songs that are sung about them, that they ignite a wish to be along with them or at least see the world as they saw it. Brave were the worshipers of Odin and the likes to travel to far away lands in extremely precarious climatic conditions, seeking fame,money and adventure.

These rustic Norsemen were the first to cross the Atlantic and land at what is now called the Newfoundland( my memory is source,didn't bother to double check by googling). And praise for them only increases further, when you think of the plain longboats used by them without any navigational equipments like the compass. They had what is called the mariner's instinct and knew the seas like the back of their hands.

These men lived a merry life on and off the boats, drinking and eating to the full before and after an adventure. Though very limited records exist depicting lives of these seafarers, most of the tales are in the form of songs or sagas. Most of the written records are from the point of view of other nationals who came in contact with the Viking raiders( at a later part of history ). They depict the northmen as barbaric, though a major part of English history has been affected by the presence of these ferocious fighters and seamen of the North Sea. One such would be the support that Harald Hardraade the Viking gave to William the Conqueror to capture the English throne( from AOE memories ).

Here is an article from Wiki about Vinland