Harmony with land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left.

I so wanted to shut my mouth, during this entire episode that blanketed the entire area with enormous hysteria. But, I had to let it go..... Hence, i thought i shall not ponder much about this, most of it is already been said and done. So i decided to rip-off some information from ibnlive.com. 
Political leaders are crying foul and the irrational media is still hovering over the issue and generating an uncalled for debates and discussions as i type this.


The content below are not my opinions but a gist of the judgement given today by Justice S.U.Khan at the High Court of Allahabad on the historic land dispute of Ayodhya as reported by the the NETWORK 18.
For the judgement of Justice Sudhir Agarwal refer, http://ibnlive.in.com/news/gist-of-judgment-justice-sudhir-agarwal/132064-3.html
For the judgement of Justice Dharam Veer Sharma refer, http://ibnlive.in.com/news/gist-of-judgment-justice-dharam-veer-sharma/132065-3.html

1. The disputed structure was constructed as mosque by or under orders of Babar.

2. It is not proved by direct evidence that premises in dispute including constructed portion belonged to Babar or the person who constructed the mosque or under whose orders it was constructed.

3. No temple was demolished for constructing the mosque.

4. Mosque was constructed over the ruins of temples, which were lying in utter ruins since a very long time before the construction of mosque and some material thereof was used in construction of the mosque.

5. That for a very long time till the construction of the mosque it was treated/believed by Hindus that some where in a very large area of which premises in dispute is a very small part birthplace of Lord Ram was situated, however, the belief did not relate to any specified small area within that bigger area specifically the premises in dispute.

6. That after some time of construction of the mosque Hindus started identifying the premises in dispute as exact birthplace of Lord Ram or a place wherein exact birthplace was situated.

7. That much before 1855 Ram Chabutra and Seeta Rasoi had come into existence and Hindus were worshipping in the same. It was very very unique and absolutely unprecedented situation that in side the boundary wall and compound of the mosque Hindu religious places were there which were actually being worshipped along with offerings of Namaz by Muslims in the mosque.

8. That in view of the above gist of the finding at serial no.7 both the parties Muslims as well as Hindus are held to be in joint possession of the entire premises in dispute.

9. That even though for the sake of convenience both the parties i.e. Muslims and Hindus were using and occupying different portions of the premises in dispute still it did not amount to formal partition and both continued to be in joint possession of the entire premises in dispute.

10. That both the parties have failed to prove commencement of their title hence by virtue of Section 110 Evidence Act both are held to be joint title holders on the basis of joint possession.

11. That for some decades before 1949 Hindus started treating/believing the place beneath the Central dome of mosque (where at present make sift temple stands) to be exact birthplace of Lord Ram.

12. That idol was placed for the first time beneath the Central dome of the mosque in the early hours of 23.12.1949.

13. That in view of the above both the parties are declared to be joint title holders in possession of the entire premises in dispute and a preliminary decree to that effect is passed with the condition that at the time of actual partition by meets and bounds at the stage of preparation of final decree the portion beneath the Central dome where at present make sift temple stands will be allotted to the share of the Hindus.

ORDER

Accordingly, all the three sets of parties, i.e. Muslims, Hindus and Nirmohi Akhara are declared joint title holders of the property/ premises in dispute as described by letters A B C D E F in the map Plan-I prepared by Sri Shiv Shanker Lal, Pleader/ Commissioner appointed by Court in Suit No.1 to the extent of one third share each for using and managing the same for worshipping.

A preliminary decree to this effect is passed.

However, it is further declared that the portion below the central dome where at present the idol is kept in makeshift temple will be allotted to Hindus in final decree.

It is further directed that Nirmohi Akhara will be allotted share including that part which is shown by the words Ram Chabutra and Sita Rasoi in the said map.

It is further clarified that even though all the three parties are declared to have one-third share each, however if while allotting exact portions some minor adjustment in the share is to be made then the same will be made and the adversely affected party may be compensated by allotting some portion of the adjoining land which has been acquired by the Central Government.

The parties are at liberty to file their suggestions for actual partition by metes and bounds within three months.

List immediately after filing of any suggestion/ application for preparation of final decree after obtaining necessary instructions from Hon'ble the Chief Justice.

Status quo as prevailing till date pursuant to Supreme Court judgment of Ismail Farooqui (1994(6) Sec 360) in all its minutest details shall be maintained for a period of three months unless this order is modified or vacated earlier.

I hope that this judgement is accepted by all the parties and this issue is not dragged to the Supreme Court of Indian law, which in my view would be an utter dissipation of time, money and resources. We all have much better issues to address, for heavens sake move on....

Justice delayed is justice denied.

I do not do this often, but i couldn't stop myself from sharing this poem by EMMANUEL ORTIZ penned back in 2002. If you do decide to read the poem do not for heaven's sake dump it in the middle, try completing the poem and attempt to relate to it. However, if you do get any doubts or have any questions do forward them to me.

A MOMENT OF SILENCE, BEFORE I START THIS POEM

                                                   - EMMANUEL ORTIZ, 11 Sep 2002.

    Before I start this poem, I'd like to ask you to join me

    In a moment of silence

    In honor of those who died in the World Trade Center and the

    Pentagon last September 11th.

    I would also like to ask you

    To offer up a moment of silence

    For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned,

    disappeared, tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes,

    For the victims in both Afghanistan and the U.S.

   

    And if I could just add one more thing...

    A full day of silence

    For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the

    hands of U.S.-backed Israeli

    forces over decades of occupation.

    Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people,

    mostly children, who have died of

    malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year U.S.

    embargo against the country.

   

    Before I begin this poem,

    Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa,

    Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country.

    Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,

    Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of

    concrete, steel, earth and skin

    And the survivors went on as if alive.

    A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people,

    not a war - for those who

    know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their

    relatives' bones buried in it, their babies born of it.

    A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of

    a secret war ... ssssshhhhh....

    Say nothing ... we don't want them to learn that they are dead.

    Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia,

    Whose names, like the corpses they once represented, have

    piled up and slipped off our tongues.

   

    Before I begin this poem.

    An hour of silence for El Salvador ...

    An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua ...

    Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos ...

    None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years.

    45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas

    25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found

    their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could

    poke into the sky.

    There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains.

    And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of

    sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west...

   

    100 years of silence...

    For the hundreds of millions of indigenous peoples from this half

    of right here,

    Whose land and lives were stolen,

    In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand

    Creek,

    Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears.

    Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the

    refrigerator of our consciousness ...

   

    So you want a moment of silence?

    And we are all left speechless

    Our tongues snatched from our mouths

    Our eyes stapled shut

    A moment of silence

    And the poets have all been laid to rest

    The drums disintegrating into dust.

   

    Before I begin this poem,

    You want a moment of silence

    You mourn now as if the world will never be the same

    And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be. Not like it always has

    been.

   

    Because this is not a 9/11 poem.

    This is a 9/10 poem,

    It is a 9/9 poem,

    A 9/8 poem,

    A 9/7 poem

    This is a 1492 poem.

   

    This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written.

    And if this is a 9/11 poem, then:

    This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971.

    This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa,

    1977.

    This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison,

    New York, 1971.

    This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.

    This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes

    This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told

    The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks

    The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and

    Newsweek ignored.

    This is a poem for interrupting this program.

   

    And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?

    We could give you lifetimes of empty:

    The unmarked graves

    The lost languages

    The uprooted trees and histories

    The dead stares on the faces of nameless children

    Before I start this poem we could be silent forever

    Or just long enough to hunger,

    For the dust to bury us

    And you would still ask us

    For more of our silence.

   

    If you want a moment of silence

    Then stop the oil pumps

    Turn off the engines and the televisions

    Sink the cruise ships

    Crash the stock markets

    Unplug the marquee lights,

    Delete the instant messages,

    Derail the trains, the light rail transit.

   

    If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window

    of Taco Bell,

    And pay the workers for wages lost.

    Tear down the liquor stores,

    The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the

    Penthouses and the Playboys.

   

    If you want a moment of silence,

    Then take it

    On Super Bowl Sunday,

    The Fourth of July

    During Dayton's 13 hour sale

    Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful

    people have gathered.

   

    You want a moment of silence

    Then take it NOW,

    Before this poem begins.

    Here, in the echo of my voice,

    In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,

    In the space between bodies in embrace,

    Here is your silence.

    Take it.

    But take it all...Don't cut in line.

    Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime. But we,

    Tonight we will keep right on singing...For our dead.

   

    

A living tribute to all the teachers

                      Teaching as I've always said is not to gather some words and vomit them in front of the class filled with students . In my opinion every other person that we talk to is our teacher in some strange may be direct or indirect fashion. The actions or words or behavior can all be inspirational or motivational maybe irritating giving us some kind of knowledge and helping us to understand some strange and ugly truths of life.

                       Having said that, teaching in four walled room in front a class filled with learners and leaving a mark on them as a teacher is a big deal. This poem of mine is a tribute to all such teachers who take so many pains and make lengthy efforts for a successful lecture. It also does speak about the connection between the teacher and those being taught. This poem was written in an attempt to amplify a quote by Jacques Barzun "teaching is not a lost art but the regard for it is a lost tradition" and yeah the rhyming scheme has been deliberately kept.

ps: i am against the proverb "those who can't, teach"

here's the poem:

Don’t shun the redemption!   ©

Teaching to be in is a sacred profession

But the regard for it seems an extinct tradition

Even the best of mankind was taught via divine revelation

I wonder why we amateurs seldom pay attention

Teaching if only we knew demands volumes of attention

But we rejoice even upon a solitary aberration

Even when trivial works demand appreciation

I wonder why we are enraged upon alteration

Teaching is a vital tool of rescue from devastation

But we refuse to employ it for our salvation 

Even the lethargic is active in commotion

I wonder why expect outcome sans exertion 

Teaching is the signboard en route to our destination

But we aren’t worried to redefine our direction

Even in this day and age of intrepid modernization

I wonder why we hold back our apprehension 

Teaching is a true art if truth I need to mention

But we devalue it thanks to our misinterpretation

Even supplication requires sound evaluation 

I wonder why we aren’t vigilant as in a congregation

Some couplets for a refreshing change - Part 3 (the conclusion)

On my own here i go with presumably the last in this series of couplets, before i write once again something worth sharing. These  have been written on an experimental purpose, but do try to emphasise on the meaning and ponder about it (if you may please to).

सच कहो मुखालिफत से क्यों डरते हो?  

ए ईमान वालों मुशरिकों से क्यों पिचढ़तेय हो?

अरे हर शय का तोह राजिक-ओ-मालिक है इक खुदा,

तो फिर क्यों यह तेरा वोह मेरा झगडते हो?

मुश्किलों भरे सफ़र में ख़ुशी की तलाश करते हुए

हम चल तो पड़े 

चलते चलते राह में आराम तलबी का जी चाहा ही,

की तभी हमें कुछ नज़र आया.

गफलतों का एक घना दरक्थ .

उसकी ग़म भरी छाओं में इत्मीनान की चादर ओढे हम अभी सोये भी न थे

की आपकी रहज़नी का शिकार हुए.

 आपको हमसे हासिल हुआ भी तो क्या? 

हमारी मुफलिसी!!! 

If you know what I mean

                        One late evening, I was going on a WALK when  I remembered this TALK between two of my colleagues about a TALE and I laughed when i remembered that it was about a MALE who had a pretty sweet looking MOLE on his eye-lid and who hit his head with a POLE when he was attempting to clear a PILE of rods that were spread across a MILE and in the periphery of which were factories of MILK and some industries that were famous for the production of high quality SILK. But, he was in a SULK after the hit, but he was strong although not like HULK but he had this feeling of nausea from the pain in his HULL which made him DULL.
His story ended there but left me in a MULL.