Posted tagged ‘Colours’

Culture

25 February 2010

– a poem by Ashok Mahajan

Two purple-white rose blossoms shown one above the other amongst mint-green leaves.

I missed the chance to nose... a pure damask rose

A pile of brown manure to front and right in a meadow with a chestnut coloured horse in the background slightly out of focus

..merely with animal or human waste.

Bred among odours of ordure
I missed the chance to nose
A pure damask rose.
Now fully grown I realize
We were only taught to use
Green fields as lavatories,
And therefore I have come to associate
All kinds of hues
Merely with animal or human waste.

Pericrocotus flammeus

A tinge of minivet-scarlet
Is no reminiscence of that bird,
But of betel-spittle stains
Left by movie fans
On walls of cinema halls,
And by pimps and harlots
In red-light lanes.

Red betel nut spit stains on a tarmac road.

....but of betel-spittle stains left by...pimps and harlots in red-light lanes.

Siris leaves possess
An autumn flavescence immeasurably less

Than expectorations of asthmatic old men
Coughing doubled-up on loose
Squeaky string cots whose
Rans of twine
Are bro-
Ken as their thoughts.

A golden yellow bovine with blue-grey horns curved back and head lowered to eat grass. The fence of a zoo enclosure is seen in the background.

A takin-gold evokes... memories of some rare beast.

A takin-gold evokes
Not in the least
Memories of dawn or some rare beast,

But scats of stray dogs
Like pagoda heaps

Among scattered slippers
Of scores of worshippers
At a Vashnoi temple-feast.

Tourists note
Fresco-amber
in Ajanta art
I know this pigment from
pools of bovine piss
at any vegetable mart.

Fresco-amber from Ajanta art...

...than pools of bovine piss in a vegetable mart.

Ashok Mahajan, is an Indian poet whose “Goan Vignettes and other poems” provide a peep into the quaint, idyllic and sometimes  anachronistic Goan life-style. This poem, the first poem of the first section – ‘Eclectic sketches” – is one of the ‘other poems’.

Though the compilation is considered light-hearted by some critics, Mahajan’s poems are of more value to the common man who would better appreciate his short true-to-life vignettes of life in Goa as well as in other parts of India. May I add that I am biased towards him as he is a retired army officer, my father’s good friend and he fueled my interest in poetry, though I’m sure that he thought it was to no avail.

In ‘Culture’, he shows us how colours associated conventionally with poetic and literary motifs are equally well served by less salubrious examples in human life. Though the poet chooses his words carefully to avoid repugnance, his craftsmanship and choice of examples evokes graphic images.

The poet attempts to show us colours through Alice’s  looking glass – a new way of imagining colour. At the same time he gives us many ways to interpret this poem.

Is he indicating that  ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ are two sides of the same coin as in Kipling’s infamous line :

“For the colonel’s lady an’ Judy O’Grady, Are sisters under their skins”?

Or that good and evil are interlinked as in old English proverb:

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions”

Perhaps he mocks the futility of objects that people desire and upon which they bestow high epithets, echoing Daniel Webster’s words:

“One may live as a conqueror, a king, or a magistrate; but he must die as a man.”

I prefer to look at it from the earthy viewpoint of nature-watching. That the commonplace and unremarkable things in nature are as valuable or fascinating or worthwhile to watch as the rare, the unusual and bizarre.

The poem also obliquely draws my thought to a dialogue between the protagonist(s) in “The Last Samurai” – Tom Cruise (as Nathan Allgren a  disenchanted ex-United States Army captain) and Ken Watanabe, the samurai warlord Katsumoto. They talk about finding perfection in life and its virtues, symbolised by the cherry blossom : –

Katsumoto: The perfect (cherry) blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life.
….
Katsumoto: I also. It happens to men who have seen what we have seen. But then I come to this place of my ancestors, and I remember. Like these blossoms, we are all dying. To know life in every breath, every cup of tea, every life we take. The way of the warrior….
Nathan Algren: Life in every breath…
Katsumoto: That is Bushido.

A swathe of white cherry blossoms with carmine stamens hang from a branxch highlighted agaist a blue sky.

The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life.

Credits

  • All files from Wikimedia Commons unless otherwise specified.
  • Click images to reach source page on Commons or elsewhere.
  • Cherry Blossoms – Sakura CC3.0.
  • Takin – ‘stevehdc’ ( on Flickr) CC2.0.
  • Chestnut horse & manure – Malene Thyssen, CC2.5SA.
  • Rose – Ulf Eliasson, CC 2.5.
  • Cow & vegetable mart – ‘brotherscarface’ in webshots (unlicensed).
  • Ajanta fresco – Jonathan A. White (public domain).
  • Betelnut spit – Scott Zona on Flickr (CC 2.0).
  • Scarlet Minivet – JM Garg, CC 3.0.
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The beetle which changed colours

9 January 2009

One comes across the wonders of natures almost accidentally. In June 2006, on the thirteenth to be precise, my son Aashay and I had driven along the Pokaran – Jaisalmer road to look at Tawny Eagles, who are easily found every few hundred metres perched on the wires or poles. On the way back, we stopped to say hello to a local acquaintance. He stood at his present place of labour, a dolomite mine the concession of which he had taken. The mine, near Chacha village, some 20 odd kms from Pokaran, consisted of an area approx 200 yards in diameter in the middle of which there was a large pit some ten yards across and about ten feet deep. Inside, the pit had tunnels leading from the sides which my friend claimed were quite long and winding and undermined almost all the area of the mine. On the surface, occasional holes with large piles of white dolomite stones around the entrances hinted at the warren below.

The dolomite quarry where we found the beetle.

The dolomite quarry where we found the beetle.

As fathers are prone to do, conversations turn to worldly matters or ‘shop’ so Aashay went wandering around the mine. A fatherly warning followed Aashay that he should stick to the beaten tracks only.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked upto Aashay to fetch him. It was 8.30 and time that we made our way back home for breakfast. Aashay was bent over, peering at something on the ground. It was a beetle scurrying on the ground.

”Pappa” he said, ”there’s something strange about this beetle!”

We followed it as it meandered amongst through the broken stone and sand. It was beautiful, almost completely white with a few black markings. A white beetle being a novelty, I was keen to get close and take a photograph but the beetle did not cooperate. Realising it was being pursued, the beetle changed tack and now hurried along on a twisting path towards some Aak bushes (Calotropis spp). A picture on the ground was difficult to get so Aashay chased it trying to scoop up the dodging creature. This he did, only to lose it a few seconds later. We did however succeed in taking a few snaps.

What was truly amazing was that the beetle, which was almost completely white when Aashay had spotted it, gradually turned darker and darker until finally it was almost completely black with only a very thin white edging.

The creature finally reached sanctuary – a cluster of Aak roots with twisted branches, dried leaves and small crevices into which it disappeared. The Rajasthani locals who worked the mines told us that the beetle turned black with fright but would recover to its original pattern after 15 minutes or so.

Immediately after we encountered the beetle it began turning black.

Immediately after we encountered the beetle it began turning black.

Scooped up in Aashay's hands for taking a good snap, it has almost turned completely black.

Scooped up in Aashay's hands for taking a good snap, it has almost turned completely black.

Later I put up the images on Wikipedia WikiProject Arthrpods talk page, hoping for an identification. Doug Dynega, an entomologist and museum curator in the States, responded whith what appears to be the key to the mystery:

”It’s a Tenebrionid, but I can’t be certain of the subfamily. From what I can see in the photos, the white “markings” are, like in many desert Tenebs, not markings, but fine cuticular wax deposits. I’d never heard of the beetle being able to change the amount of wax on it, so I have a better explanation, based on what one can observe; the wax layer is hygroscopic (absorbs moisture), and when it does so, it loses its reflectivity. Holding the beetle in your hand will greatly increase the humidity in the airspace near the beetle. This makes some sense as a desert adaptation; when humidity is low, the beetle reflects more sunlight, and when humidity is high, it reflects less. I’ve just never heard of the phenomenon, and can’t confirm it myself. What you need to do is catch one, kill it, and experiment. If it’s that sensitive, even breathing on it should have a noticeable effect. If it can be confirmed, it might even be something to publish, assuming no one has documented it before.”

Sadly, we left the area soon after and could not go back to explore this mystery any further. A pretty little puzzle waiting for someone to unravel it!

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Notes.

1. Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, with no Front-Cover Texts, and with no Back-Cover Texts. A copy of the license is included in the section entitled “GNU Free Documentation License“.

2.  Comment by Doug Dynega published under GFDL copyright from Wikipedia at the Talk page of WikiProject Arthropods on Wikipediaaccessed on 08 Jan 2009: