Gerald D'Cunha

  “We must live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” Martin Luther King Jr. M ost of us have two faces: One reflects our inherent selves as gentle humans. The other reflects our superimposed selves as ‘politicians’. I think, this is true for all of us. It means, that I am no exception. In the heart of my hearts, I know everyone around me is just like me – a human being, my brother or sister, as we all are children of the same God. So, there is no difference at all between ‘them’ and ‘us’… What they eat, wear and pray to and what we eat, wear and pray to – yes, for the gentle soul in me, it never matters. My ideals spring from this space – It’s so beautiful… so Life-enriching! But, the moment I become a ‘politician’, I am compelled to walk around wearing the other face… the superimposed, dishonest, false face. I am compelled to hide my true feelings of love brotherhood… I am compelled to take hard stands… I am compelled to express my divisive and hateful word...

“An intellectual hatred is the worst” William Butler Yeast T he first thing I happened to see on my mobile screen, this morning, was a set of two hate-messages from two of my friends… both Hindus, highly qualified, with teenaged children, living in decent housing societies. I have known these two friends of mine for over fifteen years, and observed, that they bore a deep dislike for each other. Interestingly, today, when I read their messages on social media, I could make out what made them look alike - their chronic hatred for the Muslim community! I unfollowed both of them, instantly! No, there is no vaccine for this virus. Corona may come and go – maybe, taking with it countless lives away, without checking on their class, caste, colour or creed. But, this virus – stemming from human bias of discrimination and hatred – will never, ever go from the system of many of us… many are our own, dear and near ones! Sad! Sad! Sad! All our so-called e...

T hat, I should be born in a Catholic household and in a coastal village of Mangalore – Well, was it in my plan or in my hands? So, with that single co-incidence – or call it accident – came in me my religious faith, the deity I worshiped, the Holy Book I read, the rituals and customs I followed and, above all, the food I ate… fish, meat, pulses and leaves. I had no choice when, as a little infant, I was fed with fish or meat,  rice, dal or veggies… Beef was the cheapest of the meats and that was one reason why it was cooked in so many non-Hindu houses… Our immediate neighbors, on the right, were the most orthodox Brahmins… the elderly lady of that family loved all  her neighbors,. She would come to the fence and call us, the kids, on every special occasion to offer food, fruits or sweets… But, what delights me still is this: she would drop them on our palms from at least one foot above… She would not allow us to touch her… But, we kids – even my parents and grandpare...

Pic.: Alwyn Mathias I am surrounded by people of every religious faith: Hindus, Muslims, Jains, Buddhists and Sikhs. I have friends who are Jews and Parsees, too. Come on, never, ever has any one of them  made me feel that I am different from them – yes, just because I pray to different deities and saints, read different Scriptures, follow different social and religious customs, or eat different food… fish, chicken, mutton, beef or pork… snail or  snake, dog or cat… spinach or grass or brain! Likewise, I haven’t ever allowed that thought to creep into my own mind – what my Hindu or Muslim friend or neighbor, my student or associate eats or who he worships. Come on, is it not something so beautiful about co-existence… that, my Hindu friend calls his God Krishna, and I call mine Christ or my Muslim friend calls his Allah? Why should I worry about what Holy Book he reads? What food he eats? What he wears on their weddings ceremonies? Some of the most be...

"I did not realise that I was a Jew, till Hitler made me feel I was one." Every time I think about these famous words, I get goose pimples, all over my body! I do not watch T.V. But, I do read the morning news paper. And, what could you expect on the front page - rather the entire news paper - today? India had won, comprehensively, the Mohali Test match against the formidable Australia. My idol, Sachin, would be doubly delighted as he had scaled his own zenith. But, instead of reading about and basking in the glory of this beautiful moment, we stared at the dark news - the carnage and bloodbath - and sulked. At least, I did. Did Sachin, my idol, achieve his 12,000-run-pinnacle in Mohali, Punjab? Or, did he, a Maharashtrian, achieve it on an 'outside' land? My maid servant is a Maharashtrian. She does her daily rounds in four houses: Ours - the Mangloreans; our two neighbours' - one Keralite and the other a Bengali; the fourth house is that of a Bihari. This Mahara...