December 23, 2011
"hey"
"hola"
"I need to tell somebody this"
Thus began a gmail chat soon after I woke up this morning. Since I was not the initiator, it was bound to be interesting.
"I am somebody" I told her, reaffirming the only identity that I have grown comfortable with.
"I went to wish a friend on his birthday on facebook and found out that he had died 30 days ago"
I didn't know how to react except say that "it is sad."
Couple of years ago, we had lost a friend in a tragic accident near College Station. I remember that his facebook page had remained active for a few weeks after that with some folks, unaware of the news, still posting on his wall.
"Not a good friend, I suppose, since it looks like you hadn't been in touch very much" I tried to be comforting.
"We used to chat for hours till some time ago," she said, "then many months ago I unsubscribed to his updates because they had become all along the lines of 'I am sick', 'not well' etc; turns out he really was sick. I see from his final postings now that he knew he was terminally ill."
"hmm" those are the letters that have come to mean my speechlessness. And then I realized something.
"If one of us were to die too, the situation won't be any different," I typed, "you won't find out unless someone else posts on my wall about my demise. If you are gone, I will probably think that you have become too busy. My consolation is that I have a few friends who check in on me or my family if I tend to become inactive on social networking."
"I hope they post on your wall because I don't know your family" she quipped
"I see lot of old folks here who scan the obituary section of newspapers every morning to see who among their peers and acquaintances are no more. I guess when our generation grows old, we will do it on facebook or whatever is the social networking fad then. It is going to be a much more intense experience that a short announcement on newspaper written by someone else. We will be staring at entire timelines that have come to their end."
"I think facebook has a protocol for dealing with death."
Everyone is going to have a final status update, I thought, if they stick around on the site long enough. All man-made communication media, since the time of rock art, have been a privilege of a select few. If it was the few who could leave drawings and streaks of paint tens of thousands of years ago, it was the massive stone monuments for the pharaohs.
After the invention of language, its gifted practitioners and those who could hire those practitioners left their verbal images and shadows of their imaginations behind. Voices became immortal after the invention of recording. Again, mostly great voice. 20th century saw cinematic immortality, limited to a minority.
Facebook and other social networking sites have close to 1 billion users. Granted it is a hugely restrictive medium, still it allows an iota of personalisation of the message. Granted it is going to be mindless status updates, immaterial news shared, jokes distributed, selective touched-up photos idealizing our own lives, but it is nevertheless an image of the life that will be left behind.
Left behind, eventually, by millions who never deactivated their accounts.
It will be the most massive, most democratic memorial of humanity yet conceived.
"Do you mind if I use our conversation when I write my note for the day? I won't use your name or details," I asked her
"It is ok even if you use my name"
"Nah, if I use your name, half the Indians reading it will immediately think about the actress with the same name and instantly enter into fantasies."
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The Trivandrum International Book Fair was inagurated yesterday. Over 100 publishers were showcasing their titles according to The Hindu newspaper. Achan and I set off soon after 10 am. Just as we were locking the gate, the Kudumbashree employee who collects the trash came running.
"Saare, ithonnu fit cheyyanam veettil. Ennittu fit cheythennu ithil oppittu tharanam," [Sir, please fit this thing in your house. Then sign here that you have put it up] she said waving one of those small radio frequency transponder like the toll Ez-tags in the USA.
This was the Thiruvanathapuram Corporation new identification mechanism for homes from which they would collect trash. Trash in the city hasn't been removed for 4 days. It is a political deadlock. The city stinks. Yet that doesn't stop the powers-that-be from making crores in bribes by handing out contracts to transponder making companies!
What is the point of hundreds of thousands of homes receiving transponders?!
It is a Thiruvananthapuram-scale version of the 20,000 crores that have blown for the Unique Identification Aadhar card scheme which now has been declared useless!
Sometimes one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry about the blatant looting of public coffers that goes on in this country.
When we reached the book fair venue by 10:30, things were only getting started. Cartons of books were being hauled around to be put back up for display. The display area was set up inside the good old Sanskrit College campus. The dilapidated buildings and ancient trees on this campus seem as old as that language. Near the book stalls, a red carpeted area with red plastic chairs set up with a dais. This would be where the luminaries of literature will deliver seminars and have panel discussions till December 31.
Before getting to the fair area, a make-shift stack with a banner announcing "Kappa-meen curry" (Tapioca & fish curry). Across from them a Jaivashree stall selling seeds and another one selling Christmas cake.
The first book stall we walked into had M.P.Veerendra Kumar's Haimavathabhoovil. We had been meaning to pick up a copy for some time. "We will pick it up on the way back," we told the bearded young man manning the booth. He looked all set for a Sabarimala pilgrimage.
The largest booth belonged to DC Books. Malayalam translation of complete works of Kalidasa looked very appealing. We asked for works of Kuttipuzha Krishna Pillai. "We don't carry them now. Please ask the NBS booth. We have 10% discount on English and 15% on Malayalam." Christopher Hitchens' Arguably was priced at Rs 500. An exceptionally tall lady was browsing the English books section.
Since the book fair was organized by Children's Literature Institute, numerous booths geared towards kids. Plenty selling CDs, DVDs and software. At Kerala government's Book Mark booth, we make first purchase: a biography of Kunjikuttan Thampuran. While at the billing counter, I notice Kottarathil Shankunni's Ithyhamaala, 100th year special edition. "Edukkanam Saare, first sale aanu, 15% discount tharam" (Please take Sir, it is our first sale of the day, I will give 15% discount) said the pleasing lady at the counter accompanied by her daughter. "School adacho?" I asked the wiry little girl. She smiled and shook her head. Christmas is happy time for kids here, Santa or no Santa.
Onward to the stall of Mathrubhumi books. We pick up Haimavatha Bhuvil from their since it is a book published by them. Add to that the complete works of V.T.Bhattathiripad. 12% discount. While picking up V.T, Achan sends the stacked copies of M.T's Kaalam (time) over the edge of the table.
At the Kerala Bhasha Institute's booth, I notice a collection of ancient edicts of Kerala starting from 800 AD. Decided to come back to it if we don't overshoot our Rs 1000 budget by much.
No luck with Kuttipuzha's works at NBS either. Malayalam translation of Das Kapital is priced at Rs.600. I would have thought the communist parties of Kerala would have subsidized the work. China should be printing it cheaply!
Appropriately creaking floorboards at the sparse collection displayed at the Kerala archives and manuscripts stall. Manorama books feature mostly their magazines. A girl on exceptionally high heels and lip gloss matching her maroon kurta chats with a long haired young man who meets all required criteria for the "intellectual" look. A television channel conducts short interviews of visitors.
We walk around Islamic Publication stall with its rather unenergetic salesmen. Impressive collection displayed by "Current books". Despite Mullaperiyar dam issue, a great collection of Tamil works, including translations of Malayalam originals.
Finally we get lucky at the Kerala Sahitya Academy stall. I pick up three collections of essays by Kuttipuzha Krishna Pillai. Achan picks up the biography of Ochira Velukutty, the legendary actor who played Vasavadutta (female role) in over 7000 stagings.
I notice the transliteration with meaning in Malayalam of Bhasa's Natyashastra. The authentic, original text of the arts. It is a steal at Rs. 130! This stall offers 20% to 50% discount.
We slightly exceed our budget but still remain under $25. Since Bhasa is coming home, Kalidasa will have to wait.
Expected crowd at the Amar Chitra Katha stall. Though the publishers were not arranged alphabetically Zen publishers had the last corner. They seem to specialise in Malayalm screenplays and movie related books. I notice three books on actor Mohanlal and one on Priyadarshan. I wonder if that book on Priyadarshan is a copy of some Hollywood director's biography.
On our way out, we buy a packet of okra seeds. We politely smile away the little girl trying to sell us Christmas cakes. From a distance, I recognize the voice of poet and environmentalist Sugathakumari. She is winding up her lecture for the morning urging girls to be bold in facing the challenges of life.
Autorickshaw back home. Unsuccessful attempt to replace a spongy electric switch in the afternoon mixed with reading Knjikuttan Thampuran's biography. A neighbor brings a piece of the first jackfruit from their tree. Youngest uncle, the greatest fan of jackfruit, is immediately informed. He promises to sneak out as early as possible from domestic duties. I taste a couple of pieces. Incredibly sweet. Hence consumption restricted.
Nevertheless, with all these books, sweet weekend ahead.
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