The run-up to Deepavali this year saw a fierce debate on religion and tradition versus the environment and pollution. This after the Supreme Court imposed a ban on the sale of firecrackers in New Delhi and NCR in an attempt to curb pollution. With public opinion polarised on the issue, environmentalist Nityanand Jayaraman, working with the Vettiver Collective in Chennai, answers some fundamental questions raised in the debate. There are four questions which I am going to address here. The first is - It is just a few days of celebration.  How much harm can it cause? Second - What about the air pollution during the rest of the year? Third – This is a tradition that we have followed for millennia. This was never a problem when we were growing up. Why is it a problem now? Fourth – What about the pollution caused by other festivals? Here's my response. 1. It is just a few days of celebration.  How much harm can it cause? The intensity of the celebration (bursting firecrackers) depends on the number of people bursting, the duration of the celebration and the quantity and type of firecrackers they burst. This can be ameliorated or worsened by weather conditions, and whether you live in a congested area or an open neighbourhood. The unfettered bursting of firecrackers can send air quality plummeting as it did yesterday (Wednesday), when air quality index (AQI) was 15 times worse than satisfactory levels. As I have written, it is a scientific fact that AQI above 400 will harm even healthy people, and may send children and other vulnerable populations to the emergency ward. Even brief exposures to such high levels can cause extreme distress to such people. Our tradition does not teach us to harm others, and I'm sure people who are bursting firecrackers are not doing that to harm others or send children and the elderly to the hospital. They are doing that because they don't know, and are not told that there are healthier ways to celebrate. At such high levels, there is no escape from the killer dust, which will go deep into your bodies and harm you over a long term. The damage due to short exposures to intense pollution can be significant and prolonged. This is particularly so, when the remaining 365 days are also spent in unhealthy conditions, and you allude to that. This brings me to your second challenge. Read: Chennai chokes on Deepavali, air pollution at hazardous levels 2. Why is enough not being done about air pollution during the rest of the year? Why do people cry and shout only during Diwali? You are right that enough is not being done about air pollution during the rest of the year. I work in a collective that lends support to communities in Ennore, a port near Chennai, where coal-fired thermal power plants and heavy vehicle movement has rendered air quality unhealthy throughout the year. No matter how loudly we shout, we are unable to make ourselves heard. We also talk about pollution of the Ennore Creek with oily wastes from the Manali petrochemical refinery. Every day, the refinery and the industrial estate discharges tonnes of toxic, noxious oily wastes into the Ennore Creek and the Bay of Bengal. Fisherfolk have been shouting about it since 1990s. But they are not being heard. It is not because the fisherfolk are not loud enough. Rather it is because we are deaf or unwilling to listen. It was ironic then that when the oil tanker collision sent oily wastes into the Bay of Bengal, all of Chennai was self-righteously indignant. You are right that after Deepavali the air (pollution) clears. When we think that air has returned to normal, air quality levels will still be high enough to harm us. What that should tell us is not that Deepavali pollution should be condoned, but that the pollution during the rest of the year needs to be curbed by tackling its causes – private vehicles, air pollution intensive electricity generation, poor construction practices and inadequate vegetative cover within the city. Also, it is not only during Diwali that we shout. You will notice a similar spike in concern over air pollution in January around Bhogi, when the burning of old things (including tyres) and unfavourable meteorological conditions intensify air pollution. In September, when the Velankanni Church celebrates the Feast of Our Lady, the beach in Chennai and all roads leading to Besant Nagar are just trashed by earnest devotees. Clearly the problem is not restricted to any one religion, and all religions and all rituals need to be re-evaluated in light of growing evidence that human lifestyles are harming the environment and humans who need air, water, and food to survive. Also read: Air quality plummets in Hyderabad on Diwali day 3. This is a tradition that we have followed for millennia. This was never a problem when we were growing up. Why are we making it a problem now? This is incorrect. Deepavali is a festival of lights, not a festival of noise and smoke. You are right that bursting firecrackers was a part of the Deepavali ritual when we were growing up. But it was not always that way. Lighting lamps which was an important part of Deepavali is hardly done nowadays, and bursting firecrackers has become more common place. The difference between when we were growing up and now is two-fold: a) There were a lot fewer people. In 1970, India's population was 550 million less than half of what it is now. Chennai had a population of 3 million as against a population of 5 million today – two million additional people live in the same land area. b) Overall, there were fewer people, and disposable incomes were small. Today, the middle class has expanded and the disposable income has increased. Hence, more people bursting more crackers. The same thing that we did a few decades ago with little impact has now become deadly. Traditions are not unchanging. Neither are the changes uniformly bad or good. Complaining about Deepavali's pollution is not an attack on Hindu tradition. It is a plea to change that tradition so that Deepavali can actually become a happy one. But Deepavalis of this loud and smoky kind are not happy for many, and particularly traumatic for animals. We would not permit our children to entertain themselves by stoning a kitten or a puppy; rather, we may teach them to enjoy themselves by petting it or feeding it. Similarly, why can't we kindle the spirit of celebration by engaging in compassionate but equally fun engagements? Why can't Deepavali be a festival of lights – a gentle festival, where we invite friends, sing songs, eat good food? 4. What about pollution caused by festivals of other religions? All our places of worship, and our rituals – irrespective of religion – have become anti-life. Christmas is a vulgar occasion of shopping and gifting things we never knew we needed to people who have no need for any more things. Increasingly, Christmas is less and less about Christ and more and more about shopping. So, you're right that we should be questioning and challenging any practices that make one person's celebration into another person's pain. I can appreciate your angst at the use of loudspeakers for religious purposes. This is done by “followers” of all religions, and there is a prohibition on this beyond 10 p.m. We could do better. Happy Smokeless, Noiseless Deepavali!

By Ahsam KR “I’m close to 100 years in age. This tree was there when I first came here, so it must be more than 100 years old,” Dr Kesavan Nayar told me when I asked him about the Muthassi Maram in the grounds of Government Victoria College, his alma mater. Dr TK Kesavan Nayar – he always wrote ‘Nayar’ and not ‘Nair’ as how it is usually put – passed away on 14 March, 2018, after his health deteriorated in the last few months. He was 100 and, till his end, he held his stethoscope close. He was an optimist and an optimal person. When asked about his longevity and health, he had talked about eating optimally – his mantra was, “leave some space in your stomach after every meal, do not fill it to the maximum”. His optimism was so visible in the way he laid the foundation for so many institutions and organizations in a town like Palakkad, where you are sure to be met with dissent when a new idea is proposed. His capability and sincerity could have taken him places; he remained in his hometown and served his fellow people, initially without a choice and later out of his own choice. He was an honorary doctor at the Palghat District Hospital for 21 long years, and he refused to receive any payment for the same. Read: Young at 96: Meet the nonagenarian doctor who still continues his practice He placed the first brick in place for the IMA chapter of Palakkad, the Lions Club of Palghat, the Palghat Lions School, the Bhavans Vidya Mandir at Chithali, the Community Health Centre at Puduppariyaram and many more, some of which didn’t take shape fully. During his final years, he was very much involved in his own practice at Sreedevi Clinic, Koppam, and the Palakkad Cultural and Educational Council. His loyal clientele never left him for another doctor; his treatment was always non-invasive and with so much consideration for the patient as a person and not just another case. Sometimes, he could just diagnose the ailments by simply looking at the condition of the patients and the external symptoms displayed. Through the Palakkad Cultural and Educational Council, he made available scholarships and financial assistance to deserving students across the district, and thus aided, in his own way, to improving the educational scenario of his town. Dr TK Kesavan Nayar was born to Thelakkat Kalathilthodiyl Sridevi Amma and Koduvayur Vadakkeppat Thenju Nayar in 1918, at Kunduvampadam, Peringode Amsomin Kongad Panchayath of Palakkad Taluk. He studied at the Koduvayur High School and joined for Intermediate at Government Victoria College in 1935. He graduated in Medicine from Madras Medical College in 1944. After working as House Surgeon for one year at General Hospital and six months at Government RSRM Lying In Hospital, Royapuram, he started his independent practice in February, 1946, at Palakkad. He also joined the Taluk Hospital as Honorary Medical Officer. He was a doyen in the field of medicine as well as social service, and for me, personally, his demise is a great loss. His words still ring in my ears, “The rich are the guardians of the poor.” The author is a faculty member at Srishti Institute of Art, Design and Technology, Bangalore, and has made a documentary about Dr TK Kesavan Nayar.

Aditya CS Back in 1993, playing cricket for me meant hitting a plastic ball with a plastic bat. I was all of 4 then. Over the next three years, I played cricket with a rubber ball and a wooden bat while trying to emulate Sachin Tendulkar, much like most other Indian kids at the time. These were my first memories of cricket and Sachin was the only cricketer I knew. Then came the 1996 World Cup, the year I turned 7 years old and put up a poster of Sachin from Sportstar magazine in my room. This was also my last act as a fan of Indian cricket. During the 1996 World Cup, all I could understand was that Sri Lanka had gone on to win the World Cup and it was a big deal. But the thing that stood out from the tournament was watching these chaps in yellow kits play. Guys who played differently. I enjoyed watching them play in spite of not knowing why. I experienced disappointment as a cricket fan for the first time when Damien Fleming dropped Asanka Gurusinha off Mark Waugh's bowling in the finals and the second time when Paul Reiffel dropped Aravinda DeSilva in the same game. The World Cup was lost but since then I always wanted to watch the Aussies play. Cricket for me was not just about Sachin or playing with my friends anymore. It was about the guys in yellow who stood out for some reason for a 7-year-old kid from Chennai.  Before I knew it, I had become an Aussie fan. Eventually, I realised why I had become one. These guys were tough competitors. They never gave up. They were quicker and stronger than most other teams. They produced some of the best pacers the game has ever seen and pace bowling is still my favourite facet of this lovely sport. Their leg spinner was a legend in the making. Over the next three years I had a Shane Warne poster, an autographed photo of Warnie, a picture of the Waugh brothers and one of Ian Healy, alongside my poster of Sachin. By the time the 1999 World Cup started, I knew that the Aussies were a special team. They played a different brand of cricket. Brash, competitive, energetic, taking charge of the game, converting ones to twos, taking blinding catches, converting half chances and most importantly they did it all with aggression! I started playing sport like them, only to become an outcast in South India where humility is a characteristic one is expected to possess even in a boxing bout. The times when I served an ace in a game of tennis and followed it up with a smirk or engaged opponents in banter on the basketball court, I knew it was only adding to my 'bad boy' image. But I didn't care much like my heroes who played cricket for Australia. Despite being the bad guys, they were winning by stamping their authority on the sport. Though I wasn't much of a sporting success, I believed their approach was one that lets you take charge of things. Hook the bouncers, take them on, dive to take a catch, go for the direct hits and trust your teammates to back up your throw. And when you have the cherry in your hand, hit them with bouncers, say things that would put them off and get them out. Once the game is over, invite the opposition for a beer to your team's dressing room. This was the 'Aussie way'. The 'in your face' approach was working for them. Between 1997 and 2007, some of the most exciting cricketers to have played for Australia emerged. Steve Waugh, Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath, Ricky Ponting, Brett Lee, Adam Gilchrist, Matthew Hayden, Andrew Symonds to name a few. These 10 years were also my formative years (from the age of 8 to 18) - a period during which I copped a lot of criticism because I was an Aussie fan. Be it at school, playgrounds or anywhere I went, I would always gloat when Australia won a game and rub it in the faces of those (pretty much everyone around me) who were cheering for India. After games, some Indian fans would go on to condemn the very players they had put on a pedestal before the game and in some parts of the country, fans would even resort to vandalism. But I stood by my team (the Aussies) through thick and thin because every Aussie fan was certain that their team would bounce back soon after a defeat. While India was bleeding blue I was bleeding yellow. I had been labelled an anti-national much before it became mainstream. I would root for Leander Paes at the Chennai Open as he, like the Aussies, was possessed with a never-say-die spirit. People who could not differentiate between sport and patriotism were asking me to go to Australia. I never really gave two hoots and continued being an Aussie fan, come what may! Even when I heard people from earlier generations talk about cricketing greats from yesteryears, the stories about Lillie (Dennis Lillee) and Thommo (Jeff Thomson) always had something about them that was missing in the narrative about the great Windies or that of Gavaskar standing up to defend a bouncer and make the ball fall in front of his feet. It was the chutzpah that was missing! It took me 11 years to understand why these guys in yellow stood out, back in 1996. Good old chutzpah! During their decade of dominance from 1997 to 2007, they lost an Ashes series in 2005, a couple of series’ against India and weren't dominating the T20 format but there was no doubt that they were the best team of the decade. They won three consecutive World Cups during this time. From 2007 onwards however, I had my fair share of disappointments. Teams had proved that the Aussies were no longer invincible and could be beaten. They were not the same formidable force anymore. But I was still an Aussie fan. I did not give up on my favourite cricket team. In 2011, India beat Australia in the World Cup quarter-finals. That was perhaps one of the worst days of my life. Friends from school, college, my neighbourhood, colleagues vented out years of pent up frustration of having to listen to me sledge them every time Australia beat India. It was my turn to cop some and I did it just the way the Aussies would. I answered every phone call and replied to every text saying 'wait till 2015'. I did not shy away from it.   Even though 2011-2013 saw an up and down patch, I still did not give up supporting the Kangaroos. Then came Mitchell Johnson in 2013 and along with Michael Clarke's batting prowess, I was back to my obnoxious best. And in the 2015 World Cup semi-finals, Australia beat India and went on to win the tournament and it felt like normalcy had been restored. There were many controversies the Australians found themselves mired in. There were allegations that they sledged, they were bullies, they don't walk (well no batsman ever did except Gilchrist) and I would defend them tooth and nail because I did not see anything wrong with bouncing a batsman or getting in his face and claiming a wicket. It was fine, they played tough and it worked for them. In 2003, Warne failed a dope test and I was sure that it was not to gain an unfair advantage. Ponting claimed a catch that hit the ground in 2007 and still I believed that they were not trying to cheat. Australians wouldn't cheat. They will bounce you, sledge you, bully you, stare and glare at umpires but wouldn't cheat. The belief was so strong that when Indian cricket was recovering from a match fixing scandal in 2001, the likes of Sachin, Dravid, Kumble and Sourav said what Indian cricket needed the most at that time was a series against Australia to restore the faith of Indian cricket fans. They needed to play a side that respected the sport and would give every game their all. A side that you know wouldn't think of losing at any cost. And most of all a side that loved the game of cricket. And boy, what a series that was! Indian cricket fans believed in their team once again. Yes they belonged to the other camp but I was happy for them. This is what I loved about the way Aussies played cricket. More than two decades of Australian cricket has been a part of my life and remains an influence on me, the way I looked at things, the way I faced situations head-on, the “never-say-die” attitude that was instilled in me during my formative years. But today I feel let down. I have nothing to say. I still can't believe what has happened. It still hasn't sunk in. An Australian team tampering with the ball. They cheated and they planned to do it. I feel sick in my stomach. I am swamped with thoughts of how the Aussie greats would be feeling. The guys who were my childhood heroes. Gilly, Warnie, Brett Lee, Steve Waugh. Guys I idolised. I wanted to live my life the way they played cricket. It's more than just being a fan or guzzling a few beers after winning an Ashes series. The way the Aussies played cricket, established a way of life for me. Brash? Yes. Obnoxious? Maybe. Arrogant? Perhaps. Tough? Definitely. Cheat? Never! Today Smith and his team have sinned. This is not something an Aussie side can ever do. Smith described his first reckless on-field mistake as a ’brain fade’ in Bengaluru last year and I felt uneasy then but still chose to believe, it was an error while using a relatively new provision in the game. But today it's carved in stone. An Australian team cheated and I will never forgive those involved for tainting, what was a way of life for me. For taking away from me my favourite retort to those who asked me, "Aren't you being a bit too aggressive/harsh/arrogant/abrasive?" by saying, "Perhaps I am, but that's also how the Aussies play their cricket.”  Because from this day on, using that retort could also mean I have been cheating.

It was June 9, 1990. Cameroon had done the unthinkable. They had defeated World Cup champions Argentina, led by the great Diego Maradona. Two images remain engraved in my memory forever. One that was playing on the television - Claudio Caniggia brought down by Benjamin Massing, which also meant the end of my footballing hero Maradona’s career. Another was playing at home the tension between Amma and Appa. Appa believed that sports were another form of entertainment (now that I think of it he was so right!!). He ardently believed that it makes us unproductive. He simply could not understand the 'adrenaline rush' that is associated with sports. And, on the other hand, Amma loved sports and learned to appreciate games like cricket, football and tennis by observing and listening to the commentary. She loved Sunil Gavaskar, Maradona and Martina Navratilova. Appa, whose sleep was broken by the commotion, was surprised to see his son crying, but was aghast to see his otherwise stoic wife heartbroken for an alien sport and for a faraway country, Argentina. I will never forget his reaction all my life. Amma, Meenakshi, born in Coimbatore, was born in a middle-class Tamil family. She was a promising student; however, economic conditions and the general apathy towards girl children’s education means she did not study beyond Class 10. But that did not stop her from learning. Binaca Geetmala and Ameen Sayani were her windows to Bollywood. After her marriage, radio commentary became her medium to fall in love with cricket. The Football World Cup and Wimbledon television telecast helped her fall in love with more 'alien' sports like tennis and football. The fact that her husband was not attracted to sports meant that she learned about the game by meticulously watching the proceedings and listening to the commentary closely. She would follow it up by reading about it in the newspaper or a sports magazine. She often tells me how she struggled to understand the idea of a deuce and advantage in tennis as she was not aware of the existence of a word ‘deuce’. It took her a great bit of persistent observation to decipher this unique format in tennis to break a tie.   Amma at the Centre Court in Wimbledon. At times her battle was lonely as not many in the family had similar likings as her. It was not until my sister and I grew up that she found someone to share her passion for sports with. It is with extreme doggedness that she seeks to learn new things. Years later we went to see Wimbledon; we saw a game at the Centre Court. She was as excited as a child when we got tickets for the London Olympics. I had promised her a trip to Europe and asked her to select the places of her choice. She chose Switzerland (her love for Bollywood, I guess), Paris and then she asked me if we could watch a football match at Camp Nou. She wanted to see her favourite Lionel Messi play. Amma and the author at the London Olympics. This year, I am home in Coimbatore for the Football World Cup. Amma has meticulously updated her knowledge about the teams (Panama and Iceland playing their first World Cup) and had stuck the schedule of the tournament on the door.   I ask her who should win. Amma says, "I want Messi to win, a player of his calibre needs a cup to sign off. A bit like Tendulkar needed a cup before he retired." How could I argue with her? Nothing has changed - her spirit, her keenness to learn and her strong opinion. I remember she always made coffee for me during the late-night games. I told her to take a nap for I can wake her up and make coffee for her; after all, I can do this bit for the lady who taught me to observe, learn, and keep learning. She is still a child, and I am holding on to the one in me. SS Venkateswaran returned to India after an 8-year stint in the UK. Before moving to Bengaluru, he will watch the Football World Cup 2018 with his Amma in Coimbatore.

As a woman, walking down a street in most of India means certain things. Chances are, no matter what you’re wearing, what time of the day it is, or where you are, you’re going to get stared at, commented on, sung at, touched, photographed, or a beautiful combination of all of the above. Being a woman who likes to backpack across different places in the country, I’ve seen that this has been a universal experience – though perhaps in varying degrees of intensity – no matter where I’ve travelled, whether it’s been in Maharashtra, Delhi, Punjab, Kerala, Karnataka, Himachal Pradesh, Goa, or Assam. But, a couple of months ago, on a trip to Meghalaya, I was filled with a sense of wonder. Sure, the views were jaw-dropping levels of gorgeous, and I was filling my tummy with delicious pork and beef specialties that I’d never get in my home city of Mumbai, but the best part was truly the feeling of walking around and feeling “like a man”. Nah, I didn’t ingest an exotic substance that made me gain a couple of inches (I meant of height, what were you thinking?) or grow a moustache. My voice didn’t get a whole lot deeper and I didn’t develop a sudden disdain for my flowery night shorts. It’s just that I was given a teensy, temporary insight into male privilege. Image courtesy: Aamna Khan I was travelling with a woman friend, Aamna Khan, and given that the two of us were on a budget, we often had to walk or wait for public transport from place to place. It didn’t help that it got pitch dark by six every evening and that public transport was usually restricted to a share taxi of some sort. But no matter how early we set out or how dark it was by the time we got back to our base, we had this overwhelming feeling of safety. It wasn’t just that we weren’t getting felt up (or worse); we felt it in the smallest things. Though we looked very much like tourists with our backpacks and cameras, nobody forced conversation with us. When they did speak to us, everyone was exactly the right level of friendly – curious about where we came from and where we’d be travelling without being overly specific, without questions of how much money we were spending or whether our families were okay with us travelling alone (which are real questions we’d both been asked multiple times while travelling in other places). Image courtesy: Batista The kids who stared at us were only excited about waving at us and yelling out “hellooooo!” from their school buses. Women weren’t judgmental about what we wore or how loudly we spoke. Men smiled at us and wished us luck on our travels. They didn’t stare at us hoping to develop X-ray vision to see through our clothes the way a lot of men in the rest of our country do. When squeezed next to us in share cabs – despite the fact that there were usually five other people in the back seat of an Alto –  they took care to ensure that we were comfortable. They avoided ‘innocuous’ brushes of their hands against our bodies, and some of them even asked us if we minded that they were playing Khasi music in the car. We stood out like sore thumbs (for one, we were nowhere close to as well-dressed or attractive as the local women), but nobody took photos of us without our consent. Image courtesy: Antara Telang We even spent one night at a campsite run by five men in the middle of nowhere, where we were the only two women, without the slightest discomfort (excluding the bugs that we’d inevitably find in the folds of our clothes). Because I am a disabled woman, I am used to even greater scrutiny and questions than nondisabled women are, but even that didn’t really make much of a difference to people in Meghalaya.  If you’re a man reading this, you’re probably thinking, “What’s the big deal?” But like I mentioned earlier, living each day like this for nine whole days at a stretch without exception was a shocker for my friend and me. Every evening when we’d come back, we’d look at each other with incredulity that yet another day had passed without lecherous vultures swooping down on us in one way or another. While one cannot deny the privilege my friend and I carry – of being well-dressed, English speaking, upper caste, urban women – the fact remains that we have never felt so safe from daily gender violence as we did on that trip to Meghalaya. I think a large part of this can be attributed to Meghalaya’s largely matrilineal culture. Though not a matriarchal society, women enjoy a far better position there than in most other parts of India, and indeed the world. It is common to see businesses completely run by women, and for women to be roaming freely on the streets. Whatever the root cause may be, I’ve never felt that way in my adult life, no matter which part of India or the world I’ve travelled in. And it’s for that reason (okay, yes, maybe the pork curry is another major reason) that I’m sure I’ll visit again. (Views expressed are author's own)

Security analyst and columnist Abhijit Iyer-Mitra was arrested on Tuesday for his alleged derogatory remarks against the Sun Temple and Odisha culture. The Commissionerate Police arrested Abhijit after hours of interrogation at an undisclosed location in Bhubaneswar. Police Commissioner Satyajit Mohanty said Abhijit was arrested in connection with a criminal case registered against him at Saheed Nagar Police Station on September 20. He has been booked under IP63C Sections 294, 295A, 153A, 500, 506 and Section 67 of the Information Technology Act. He also appeared before a House Committee of Odisha Assembly on Tuesday and tendered an unconditional apology for his derogatory remarks on legislators. The House panel, headed by leader of opposition Narasingh Mishra, asked Abhijit to re-appear on November 2 and submit an affidavit. "Abhijit Iyer-Mitra admitted to the charges levelled against him and offered an unconditional apology for his 'stupidity'. He has been directed to depose before the Committee and submit an affidavit in this regard," said Mishra. "After examining his affidavit, the panel will decide whether to accept his apology or not. Accordingly, the Committee will then recommend to the House to take action against him, if necessary," he said. Abhijit was questioned about the alleged breach of privilege. Many have condemned his arrest, terming it "a zone where freedom is in danger, and an "Orwellian nightmare". Dear Prime Minister @narendramodi, quite admirable that you are active on social media. So I am sure you are aware that in India one can get arrested, like my friend @Iyervval, for a tweet on the origin of Rasagola. That's the democracy & freedom we Indians enjoy under your govt. https://t.co/Hg9kd3pAAe — Aarti Tikoo Singh (@AartiTikoo) October 24, 2018 We're slipping into a zone where #freedom is in danger. It's outrageous that Abhijit Iyer-Mitra @Iyervval has been arrested by #Odisha Police on risible charges and denied bail. Please read and circulate my protest and appeal. Fight for your, his and everybody's liberty. #India pic.twitter.com/gbuHebzI8g — Kanchan Gupta (@KanchanGupta) October 24, 2018 Absurd, vindictive, to jail @iyervval for 14 days over a rosogolla-origin tweet. He's a shock-jock, but trawling through his year-old tweets to fuel specious outrage charges is an illustration of how much is wrong with India's FoE laws.https://t.co/TQZTh05PDW — Nilanjana Roy (@nilanjanaroy) October 24, 2018 .@Iyervval has been arrested by Odisha over a tweet about rasgolas. Read that again. Yes. Does this country have a reset button?https://t.co/wfBXqi5JgH — Kabir Taneja (@KabirTaneja) October 24, 2018 #AbhijitIyerMitra (@Iyervval) got arrested in Odisha for a conversation he had a year ago on SM about the origin of Rasogola! Yes, it's 2018 and you read it right, Rasagola. This is beyond bizarre!!https://t.co/ZGzeuI2fEy — Viju Cherian (@vijucherian) October 24, 2018 This is absurd, we are descending into some Orwellian nightmare. The man is known for his viciousness on social media but he can’t be targeted like this. https://t.co/nAkJqnwSpY — Rammanohar Reddy (@ramreddy) October 23, 2018 We are a banana republic. So much for India being a secular democracy . Shame ! #istandwithabhijit https://t.co/yhN95j5T4K — Naveen Suresh (@NavSuresh) October 24, 2018 This nonsense with @Iyervval has got to stop. His comments are often bigoted and silly and he knows it but mouthing off shouldn't be cause for arrest. Fighting over the origins of rasagola? How about over the success or otherwise of #MakeInIndia instead?https://t.co/EP4kxnYxmE — Jabin T Jacob 鄭嘉賓 (@jabinjacobt) October 25, 2018 He had earlier been summoned to appear before the panel on October 11, which he had skipped. He was summoned again to appear on October 23. Odisha Assembly Speaker Pradip Amat had on September 20 constituted a House Committee to probe the journalist's alleged derogatory remarks against the state and its lawmakers. Abhijit had on September 16 posted a video on Twitter criticising the Konark temple. Later, he went on to make the alleged derogatory remarks against Odisha and its culture. Two FIRs were registered against him at Konark and Saheed Nagar police stations for his remarks. Last month, the Odisha Police arrested the columnist in New Delhi for his anti-Odisha comments. However, he was given conditional bail by a local court in Delhi. Later, the Supreme Court rejected his bail plea saying his comments 'incited religious sentiments'. With IANS inputs

Corona or not, it sucks to be cooped up like chickens with our loved ones without the comfortable distance required to make the heart grow fonder. In a bid to do my part to save the world from this crippling pandemic without actually moving my backside for fear of stepping over the Lakshman Rekha, I decided to draw up a survival guide of Dos and Don’ts to weather the tsunami of trouble stirred up by this nasty critter. Trust me, preliminary studies conducted by the reputed folks at WhatsApp University have confirmed their efficacy beyond a shadow of doubt. The first step is to make soap and water your most intimate acquaintances. They have proven themselves good friends to humanity long before diamonds and dogs usurped their rightful spot and will continue to prove their worth long after corona has shrunk back into the bowels of hell from which it has erupted like a particularly foul effluent. It would also help if one were to make personal hygiene a priority and public hygiene an even bigger one if only as a preventive measure against the spread of communicable diseases and related hazards that could prove to have epic stakes in the survival game. Roughly translated, that means not ever dumping your trash outside the sparkling interiors of your home into the streets, using the great outdoors as a spittoon or latrine, defacing public property by scratching your lover’s name, throwing up pornographic sketches on every available surface or blowing your nose and allowing the discharge to fly every which way. Steer clear of social media if you value your sanity or at least use it in moderation especially if you lack the balancing power of a monkey on stilts to take the better while leaving out the bitter, barf – inducing garbage out there. Ever since some wiseacre got word out that democracy works best when your voice is heard out loud, people have been screaming themselves hoarse to make sure that their endless torrent of nonsense is amplified to the furthest reaches of the internet, bolstered by twitchy fingers compulsively hitting like and share in the desperate hope that they will be rewarded in kind. Therefore we have internet idiots and savants with interchangeable attributes raving and ranting fit to burst. The insufferably self-righteous and superior types tend to drip scorn for everyone and everything from the admitted showmanship of the supreme leader and inadequacy of the ruling party to the extreme foolishness of the folks who tentatively stepped out of their homes to find a bite to eat or medicine for an ailing grandmother only to be sneakily photographed or recorded so that they may be viciously trolled, endlessly abused and publicly shamed for putting millions at risk. Then there are the fanatical religious nuts who swear that India need not be subjected to a lockdown because Indians practise the downward facing dog regularly on their balconies with their rear ends strategically raised towards the benign sun which unleashes the Kundalini Shakti with all its serpentine strength which is more than sufficient to slay corona, sharona and whatever else have you or something equally ludicrous about the virus killing power of pots and pans banged in unison. Relatively innocuous Instagram must also be avoided at all costs too. According to the illustrious professors of WhatsApp University, those pretty pictures have great envy-inducing powers which can corrupt the best and brightest till they are reduced to gibbering, glass-eyed cyber stalkers who can spend years staring at pics and videos of Janhvi Kapoor sexily pretending to eat a slice of pizza, giving her puppy a bath or showing you the correct technique for applying lipstick to the exclusion of all things useful or worthy. Avoid fake news like the plague. Fear and panic cause a lot more damage than pandemics. Be sure to verify the credentials and reliability of all purveyors of information and check the facts. Even if you can’t be bothered, be sure to think thrice before you join hands with the mob to tear apart the hapless medical personnel getting off a gruelling nightshift because they are suspected to be carriers of COVID-16 (or is it COVID-17?). And believing self-proclaimed experts who have declared that the only country in the world that is currently corona free is Kailasa and you are considering applying for permanent citizenship under the benevolent rule of HDH Nithyananda even if you run a far higher risk of contracting HIV, do yourself a favour and check yourself into the nearest hospital for a lobotomy. While many endorse vegetating in front of Netflix, it is advisable to take time out to work out, read a book, cook a meal, take the dog for a walk, play with the kids or teach them something useful that does not involve staring at a screen, converse with the spouse about something other than whose turn it is to do the dishes or swab the floors and do whatever it takes to tough things out as long as it is legal and non-fattening. Do all the things you always wished you had the time to do, even if it is something impracticable like working on a script that will be picked up by Leonardo DiCaprio at an exorbitant price or perfecting the pincha mayurasana in the hopes that a video of you executing the same or at least the blooper version will go viral on the internet. If you are inclined to feel that this survival guide is lacking in scientific detail, didn’t once mention social distancing, testing, gaumutra, masks, sanitiser and is somewhat on the rambling side not unlike the supreme leader’s impassioned addresses to the nation, allow me to stress that if the buzz on WhatsApp is to be believed I am a shoo-in for the Noble Prize thanks to this priceless contribution towards the greater good, entirely free of cost. If that doesn’t convince you to take every word put down here as the gospel truth which deserves to be liked and shared till it has spread to the furthest corners of civilized society like a contagion, I don’t know what will.

Dear students, I trust all of you are keeping safe and healthy. You are still so young, but yet forced to witness so much turmoil and have thus evolved into thinking women (or in your words, ‘adult’.) While you were deciding between watching another episode of Sex Education or sleep, you were shaken out of your reverie and forced to reckon with the world – to fight for your freedom, your rights and now survive. Did I jinx it when I gave my farewell speech, saying that you had seen it all? From Brexit, Hong Kong protests, repeal of Article 370 in Kashmir, Revolution of Sudan, the assassination of Baghdadi, the crushing economic recession and the anti-CAA protests? Not in our wildest imagination did we think that the worst was yet to come, that we would one day be witness to a pandemic, a World War like situation with the entire globe shutting down. While being torn between my desire to consume more and more news, and drown in escalating anxiety, and resist the urge not to, for my own sanity, I couldn’t help but make a list of the lessons that we can learn from the pandemic. This pandemic is a perfect example of The Butterfly Effect – when a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it causes tremors on another, says Chaos Theory. COVID-19 has shown us the reach of the growing tentacles of globalisation, our relatedness and how everything is connected. All our actions have effects. We often take the World Wars for granted, don’t we? It had become another page in our history textbook, another date to remember and yet another pointless exam answer to write. But now we can understand how it would have been for people to live through the wars. To worry about resources, to scramble for good news, and hope in the face of crippling uncertainty. The Government is important – when we are in despair, we turn to the state for support. Only the state can pass the right policies, keep the system running and take care of its citizens. And this is why it’s in our own best interest that we stay abreast of news and use that information to make important choices. To vote. To exercise our right wisely and choose the best. While exposing the importance of the state the pandemic has also given rise to one major thought – which form of government works best? Communist countries with robust public health systems like China, Cuba and Vietnam have done very well in containing the disease, while neo-liberal democracies like Italy, Spain and the US have floundered. Is there a lesson here? Can there be too much democracy? Is the cost of a free and open society, a total disregard for community? Is there something utterly irresponsible about individual freedom? To take the US as an example, even while the number of cases were skyrocketing in New York and the government was pleading with people to practise social distancing, college students were seen frolicking on beaches and in pubs, indulging in spring break shenanigans and licking toilet bowls as a part of #CoronaChallenge. We now know what oppression feels like. Lockdown used to be the parlance of the Kashmiris. We now know what it means. Gaza. Palestine. Syria. Now that our lives have been painfully disrupted, we have a taste of what it is to lose freedom. And remember, we have only lost our freedom of movement. Did China conspire to do all this? Was COVID-19 created by China to choke the world and attain global domination? Was the virus created in a bio-research facility in Wuhan to be unleashed on ‘troublesome’ Hong Kongers and snuff out democracy forever? China’s successful handling of the crisis and subsequent closing of its international borders has given rise to many WhatsApp forwards and articles insinuating that the Chinese orchestrated the pandemic. Apparently, Chinese millionaires have bought shares in crashing companies worldwide ensuring China remains unscathed in the global recession that is sure to follow. Beijing hasn’t recorded too many cases and was never locked down. How was that possible? Well, we will ever know the truth. It’s perhaps also foolish to indulge in conspiracy theories, especially today when the fake news infodemic seems more lethal than the actual disease. In the face of growing racial discrimination, it’s best we ignore these theories and focus on reviving our societies instead. When we heard about the lockdown, what did we worry about most? Contracting the virus or the effect the lockdown could have on our minds? Most illnesses kill the mind before getting to our body. Is it still all in the mind then? Mental health is as important as physical health, if not more. Guess who is having the last laugh now? History’s longest and happiest social distancers – Kim Jong-Un and the Sentinelese of course (separately, not together though)! Oblivious to the outside world and happy to be isolated. Capitalism can be aggressive. Capitalism can kill people – America, the country that has never had qualms over waging wars against weaker countries (as long as it’s not on its soil) and destroying their economy to smithereens (while keeping their economy intact) – America that prides itself on being the stuff that dreams are made of – America that makes a hue and cry about a scrawny terrorist killing 10 people – is now grappling with an unprecedented crisis on its hand, with 500 deaths each day. For a long time, they chose to ignore the crisis, called it the ‘Chinese virus’ and lived in denial. Also, they could not bear the thought of their malls and merchandise coming to a grinding halt – after all that’s the machine that runs America isn’t it? The country with the highest GDP in the world. Alarming death rates have finally opened the government’s eyes and pushed them to place importance on public welfare over economy. It’s easy to pin all the blame on Trump, but it reeks of something more sinister, the corrupt moral fabric of America. The UK in order to not pick up the tab (since the government sponsors the NHS) decided to go for the long haul or work at herd immunity. Social Darwinism. Let life go on. Corona will kill the weak, the fittest will survive and the rest will develop immunity, was the policy. So who will bite the dust? The poor and the old, of course. It sounded like Hitler was espousing his model for superior genes all over again. One thing is for sure. This pandemic is changing the world irrevocably. At a personal level we may now choose to be more mindful of our health and reorganise our priorities. At the global level, there will probably be two kinds of government control – greater surveillance of citizens at the cost of individual freedom and maybe tighter borders. Is social distancing giving rise to national isolation? Is nature telling us something? Have we been grounded to repent for what we have done to the planet? Perhaps we are the virus and corona is trying to get rid of us. The surreal image of Olive Ridley turtles nesting along the beaches of Bhubaneswar peacefully, for probably the first time in their life, is testimony. The difference has not been more clear. What is essential and what is not. While we recognise that doctors, nurses, health workers, police, researchers, cashiers, grocers, farmers, journalists and teachers are the essential services of today, it must be also taken into account that they are also the least paid. The right to Internet is a fundamental, inalienable right. COVID-19 has been a great equaliser – it can infect the homeless man on the street and the Prince of England. However, it is a rich man’s disease – it has come from foreign travel. Yet who seems to be paying the price? The hapless migrants who had disinfectant sprayed on them for no fault of theirs. If we cared so much shouldn’t we have sprayed it on the NRIs and tourists who came from abroad? Inequality is the biggest problem in our country. I think we finally realise the true cost of development. Did we really need that flyover? Or that mono-rail for that matter? Should we be spending Rs 3,000 crore on a statue while our health expenditure is only 2% of India’s GDP? And should we elect such a government that chooses to do so? Countries such as South Korea, Vietnam, Singapore, Taiwan and Hong Kong have done well in mitigating the crisis than much richer European countries and the US. Which brings us back to the question – what makes a country ‘developed’? I’ve been curious of the crow sitting on the branch of my mango tree. Does it wonder where the humans have gone? Do the street dogs wish for our presence? What was running in the mind of the civet cat when it walked down a street in Kerala’s Kozhikode? Did they think it was the apocalypse or did they celebrate their freedom? It’s time we check our privilege – we can socially distance because we can afford to. We have savings. We have enough resources to even bake cakes and post it on social media. It was also privilege to hang out with friends and to explore aisles and aisles of our favourite snack. It’s a privilege to say goodbye. Indigenous people are right – we need to be in tune with nature. Listen to it, not encroach on it. The more we eat into the territories of wild animals and snatch their homes, the more trouble we will find ourselves in. If nothing else, this pandemic has made us self-sufficient. We can cook, clean and take care of ourselves, and sustainably too. And no, we do not need to shop so much online. We are the books we read, the movies we watch and the music we listen to. We are the art we create and the craft we make. In the darkest of times we turned to art to keep us alive and may we never forget that. The world will never be the same again. You young women are inheriting a brand new world. Rich from this experience, I know you will make a difference. May we emerge scathed but stronger. Views expressed are the author’s own.

Easter - the Christian festival that celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ - is this Sunday. This year, thousands of Christians will be observing it from their homes, following their church’s online services on their phones or computers. When I was a boy in Coimbatore, many many moons ago, Easter meant being rousted out of bed at the unholy hour of 4 AM to get ready to go to church for the sunrise service. For my brother and me, getting to the 8 AM service every Sunday was in itself quite an achievement. But, growing up in a south Indian Christian household, we didn’t really have a choice. So, on Easter day, we were woken up, bathed, dressed in new clothes and turned out shiny and clean so we could fall asleep in the pews of the church that had been moved outdoors while the service happened. As we grew older, we learnt to experience the novelty of participating in a service outdoors, instead of within the confines of the ancient stone church. The pews faced East and the service began before sunrise. There would be a nip in the air when the service began. As the service progressed, the sun would rise from behind the altar, bathing the whole setting in a golden glow. Of course, the golden glow turned hot quite quickly - we said our prayers a bit quicker, and sang the hymns a bit faster, so that we ended the service and retreated to the relative cool in the shade of the church gardens. There we would have coffee and biscuits and Easter conversations. We greeted each other with the words, “Christ is Risen” and responded with the words, “Risen indeed.” It was great fun for us - once a year we got to go to church out in the open, and then we got to go around greeting everyone there, rather like spies in the novels we read! After the service, we would head as a family to the nearest bakery, where we would buy Easter Eggs. The size of your palm, these were made of hard white cast sugar with fondant icing. The outside would be decorated with flowers and bows in icing, and when we broke into them, there would be a treasure of chocolates to be discovered. Needless to say, the eggs were often bones of contention between my brother and me - one of us would finish his quicker, and would then have to watch the other savour his egg and chocolates with deliberate slowness. Clearly, we did not get the message of the season, which was that Jesus had died and risen again to save us from our sins, and maybe we could treat each other slightly better because of that. Easter comes at the end of the Holy Week. The Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, when we would all hold palm leaves and circumambulate (walk around) the church singing hymns to commemorate Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey. Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper, where Jesus predicts his betrayal and death. This is particularly important, as it also is where the sacred sacrament of communion originates. In short, the practice of consuming bread and wine as ‘communion’ in the Christian faith has its origin in the Last Supper. The Good Friday service was a long one commemorating the actual crucifixion. It was in the early evening and was a sombre affair that often ran into hours. The one thing I remember vividly about Good Friday was buying hot cross buns from the bakery and munching on them on the way home. There wasn’t much different about them - they were regular buns with a cross made of dough tacked on to them, but just the fact that they were called hot cross buns made them special! Easter also signaled the end of Lent, the 40 days of self-denial practised by Christians. For us, Lent was a time during which we gave up eating non-vegetarian food. This was a real sacrifice as our usual diet included a significant amount of chicken, meat and fish. Easter breakfast was special - it was the first meal with non-vegetarian food in a while. At our place, it was usually a sweet idli called vivika made of rice flour, bananas, raisins and sweet spices, accompanied by a savoury mutton curry. At the end of 40 days of no chicken, meat or fish - this was a sweet, sweet return to our normal, predominantly carnivorous culinary lifestyle. This year, it’s going to be different. I cannot think of a single year when my parents have missed going to church for Easter. One of the fundamentals of Christian worship is fellowship - worshiping with your fellow believers, and that is brought alive especially on festival days. This year, the service will be in an empty church, streamed live. The worshipers, my parents among them, will be attending from home. Happy Easter!  Navin Sigamany is a Hyderabad-based photographer and heritage enthusiast who writes on food and culture.