Immorality in the western world has a long trek ahead to beat this system.
Immorality in the western world has a long trek ahead to beat this system.
For sale: 13-year-old virgin in BharatpurThirty miles west of the Taj Mahal, on the road to the pink city of Jaipur, tourists on buses pass a sight that the guide books rarely mention.In pictures: 14-year-old's virginity for saleA mile beyond the town of Bharatpur in Rajasthan, where the highway is being widened to four lanes, traffic slows down for roadworks. But the workmen who lounge by their bulldozers have their eyes on something else - a cluster of makeshift shelters where girls, several under 18 and at least two younger than 15, can be seen strolling or sitting, in view of the dusty carriageway.Tonight, one girl in particular is attracting attention as she sits on a stool by a fire so that she can be seen by passing vehicles. Her heavily made-up, striking face and beautiful pink sari make her look as if she were on her way to a party. But the truth is different. Suli, 14, is a virgin and a bidding war is being held for the right to be the first to sleep with her.The collection of shelters where she lives houses 59 families, all members of the Bedia tribe, which has a long tradition of caste-based prostitution. Girls born here become prostitutes in a rite of passage into "adulthood" as routine as marriage is to the rest of Indian society.The "first time" is a valued commodity for which the middle-class businessmen who pass this way are prepared to pay a premium.The normal rate is 100 rupees (£1.30)AUD$2.40 but a virgin is sold to the highest bidder for anything over 20,000 rupees.AUD$250.00 If she is very pretty, the community would hope to get up to 40,000, AUD $500.00 rupees. For this, the man can have access to the girl for as long as he likes - several hours, days, or even weeks. When he tires of her, there is a celebration. Because it is considered unlucky for a girl to keep the money from her first time, it is spent instead on an extravagant party. Jewellery is bought for her and for her relatives, goats are slaughtered and alcohol runs freely. There is dancing, and offerings are made to the gods.Once a girl has lost her virginity she cannot marry. The choice has been made and the community celebrates it - this is her non-wedding night.Bidding war: Nita [left] is so pretty that a 'client' maypay £600 to take her virginity, say her sistersSuli said she was happy to enter the trade. "I chose it," she said, though she admitted being "a little" frightened. "I do not know how it is going to be. I know other girls who are in the trade but I have not asked them how it is."She claimed it did not matter what the man looked like. "I will go with whoever pays the highest price," she said, before running off as her mother called her for supper.Nita, a virgin in the hut next door, has four sisters, all prostitutes. She wears jeans and a skimpy top, and giggles a lot. One sister boasts that as Nita is particularly pretty, they hope to get 40,000 rupees (£600). "We have been offered 25,000, but it is not enough."Nita is only 13 but has opted to follow her sisters into the trade. It is her own "choice", because, she giggled, "I won't have to do any housework." But in avoiding making chapatis, Nita has signed up to a life in which she will deal with 20 to 30 clients per day, until she reaches her forties. After that, when she is no longer considered desirable, she will depend on any children she may have for support.Two of her sisters, Ritu, 35, and Manju, 25, have built one of the few stone houses in their village, for which they paid the equivalent of £14,600, and are proud of their success. "There was a lot of poverty, we had nothing to eat," said Manju. "What you see now has come with hard work." They support 50 family members - 35 children and 15 adults.Elsewhere in India, the birth of a boy is celebrated with dowries paid by the bride's family, one of the reasons given for the high abortion rate for female foetuses. But in the villages around Bharatpur there is a shortage of girls to marry, and the custom is for the boy's family to pay the girl's family a large lump sum before the wedding can take place.Possibly because the money comes from prostitution, and because any granddaughters will be destined for the trade, the sums are high.Ritu and Manju paid for four of their five brothers to marry, and now support their sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews.They earn between 1,000 and 1,500 rupees a day. It was more before the government knocked down their shelters to make room for the highway."We need a shelter by the road," they said. "Tell the government to build us somewhere we can work. We used to have 25 or 30 clients a day, now the average is 10 or 15." They said they were able to keep their rates up because they could provide a nice room and running water for their clients, who are mostly married businessmen from Agra.The prevalence of caste-based prostitution in certain tribes in the region - the Bawaria, Nuts, Bedias, Kanjars and Sansis - came to light after a raid on a brothel in Delhi. Now an attempt is being made to break the cycle by which the girls of each generation enter the trade.Dr KK Mukerjee, a social work professor at the University of Delhi, who was commissioned by the government to research the scope of prostitution, has founded a group, known as GNK. Supported by Plan International, a child-centred community development agency, the organisation has set up a hostel to look after prostitutes' children.Many of the women said they did not wish their daughters to follow them into the trade. Ritu and Manju each have a daughter, whose fathers were clients. "My daughter will get educated, and not enter this profession," said Ritu. "I have seen what it is like. I don't want it for her."A young boy at the hostel told proudly how he had persuaded his grandmother not to push his aunt into prostitution. "My grandmother said that she would kill herself if my aunt did not go into the trade and earn money," he said. "But I persuaded her, and my aunt got married."
posted by Vest @ 4/13/2008 06:55:00 PM 0 comments links to
For sale: 13-year-old virgin in BharatpurThirty miles west of the Taj Mahal, on the road to the pink city of Jaipur, tourists on buses pass a sight that the guide books rarely mention.In pictures: 14-year-old's virginity for saleA mile beyond the town of Bharatpur in Rajasthan, where the highway is being widened to four lanes, traffic slows down for roadworks. But the workmen who lounge by their bulldozers have their eyes on something else - a cluster of makeshift shelters where girls, several under 18 and at least two younger than 15, can be seen strolling or sitting, in view of the dusty carriageway.Tonight, one girl in particular is attracting attention as she sits on a stool by a fire so that she can be seen by passing vehicles. Her heavily made-up, striking face and beautiful pink sari make her look as if she were on her way to a party. But the truth is different. Suli, 14, is a virgin and a bidding war is being held for the right to be the first to sleep with her.The collection of shelters where she lives houses 59 families, all members of the Bedia tribe, which has a long tradition of caste-based prostitution. Girls born here become prostitutes in a rite of passage into "adulthood" as routine as marriage is to the rest of Indian society.The "first time" is a valued commodity for which the middle-class businessmen who pass this way are prepared to pay a premium.The normal rate is 100 rupees (£1.30)AUD$2.40 but a virgin is sold to the highest bidder for anything over 20,000 rupees.AUD$250.00 If she is very pretty, the community would hope to get up to 40,000, AUD $500.00 rupees. For this, the man can have access to the girl for as long as he likes - several hours, days, or even weeks. When he tires of her, there is a celebration. Because it is considered unlucky for a girl to keep the money from her first time, it is spent instead on an extravagant party. Jewellery is bought for her and for her relatives, goats are slaughtered and alcohol runs freely. There is dancing, and offerings are made to the gods.Once a girl has lost her virginity she cannot marry. The choice has been made and the community celebrates it - this is her non-wedding night.Bidding war: Nita [left] is so pretty that a 'client' maypay £600 to take her virginity, say her sistersSuli said she was happy to enter the trade. "I chose it," she said, though she admitted being "a little" frightened. "I do not know how it is going to be. I know other girls who are in the trade but I have not asked them how it is."She claimed it did not matter what the man looked like. "I will go with whoever pays the highest price," she said, before running off as her mother called her for supper.Nita, a virgin in the hut next door, has four sisters, all prostitutes. She wears jeans and a skimpy top, and giggles a lot. One sister boasts that as Nita is particularly pretty, they hope to get 40,000 rupees (£600). "We have been offered 25,000, but it is not enough."Nita is only 13 but has opted to follow her sisters into the trade. It is her own "choice", because, she giggled, "I won't have to do any housework." But in avoiding making chapatis, Nita has signed up to a life in which she will deal with 20 to 30 clients per day, until she reaches her forties. After that, when she is no longer considered desirable, she will depend on any children she may have for support.Two of her sisters, Ritu, 35, and Manju, 25, have built one of the few stone houses in their village, for which they paid the equivalent of £14,600, and are proud of their success. "There was a lot of poverty, we had nothing to eat," said Manju. "What you see now has come with hard work." They support 50 family members - 35 children and 15 adults.Elsewhere in India, the birth of a boy is celebrated with dowries paid by the bride's family, one of the reasons given for the high abortion rate for female foetuses. But in the villages around Bharatpur there is a shortage of girls to marry, and the custom is for the boy's family to pay the girl's family a large lump sum before the wedding can take place.Possibly because the money comes from prostitution, and because any granddaughters will be destined for the trade, the sums are high.Ritu and Manju paid for four of their five brothers to marry, and now support their sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews.They earn between 1,000 and 1,500 rupees a day. It was more before the government knocked down their shelters to make room for the highway."We need a shelter by the road," they said. "Tell the government to build us somewhere we can work. We used to have 25 or 30 clients a day, now the average is 10 or 15." They said they were able to keep their rates up because they could provide a nice room and running water for their clients, who are mostly married businessmen from Agra.The prevalence of caste-based prostitution in certain tribes in the region - the Bawaria, Nuts, Bedias, Kanjars and Sansis - came to light after a raid on a brothel in Delhi. Now an attempt is being made to break the cycle by which the girls of each generation enter the trade.Dr KK Mukerjee, a social work professor at the University of Delhi, who was commissioned by the government to research the scope of prostitution, has founded a group, known as GNK. Supported by Plan International, a child-centred community development agency, the organisation has set up a hostel to look after prostitutes' children.Many of the women said they did not wish their daughters to follow them into the trade. Ritu and Manju each have a daughter, whose fathers were clients. "My daughter will get educated, and not enter this profession," said Ritu. "I have seen what it is like. I don't want it for her."A young boy at the hostel told proudly how he had persuaded his grandmother not to push his aunt into prostitution. "My grandmother said that she would kill herself if my aunt did not go into the trade and earn money," he said. "But I persuaded her, and my aunt got married."
posted by Vest @ 4/13/2008 06:55:00 PM 0 comments links to
Comments
CHINESE PROVERBS
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Virginity like bubble, one prick, all gone.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who run in front of car get tired.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who run behind car get exhausted.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man with one chopstick go hungry.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who scratch ass should not bite fingernails.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Baseball is wrong: man with four balls cannot walk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Panties not best thing on earth! but next to best thing on earth.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who drive like hell, bound to get there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who stand on toilet is high on pot.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who live in glass house should change clothes in basement.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Crowded elevator smell different to midget.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Now send it to 10 or more people with in the next 5 minutes!
And good luck!
Nothing will happen but 10 people laughing at these Proverbs!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Man who has sex with woman in field get piece on earth
To love and win is the best thing.
To love and lose, the next best.
Don't give up trying to do what you really want to do. Where there is love and inspiration, I don't think you can go wrong.
the Western world beats us 10 to 1
Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
love that one tom Bowyer
War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
if Hitler and the Axis Powers were to win WWII
the President of USA wud hang for war crimes
targetting a civilian population in Hiroshima and Nagasakhi with Atomic bombs
Churchill too
To love and win is the best thing.
To love and lose, the next best.
...
I’ve been blest in my life with a handful of really true friends, one of which is my husband.
Last week Mr. R. and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary! We met through the machinations of one of my other lifelong friends, who’ll I’ll call “K” (because that’s her name).
K deviously introduced us against our will by orchestrating a surprise blind date. If you’re wondering what that means, never fear, I’m about to tell you.
It was 25 years ago, we were high school seniors, and K was a common friend to us both. All through high school, K had thought Martin (that’s Mr. R.) and I would be just perfect for each other.
The problem was two-fold. No.1: I was shy (people never believe this, but it’s TRUE) and No.2: K had not yet perfected her matchmaking art.
Her attempts went something like this: “You’ve got to meet Martin. He’s a wild and crazy guy!” But I was shy (really) and I didn’t want a wild and crazy guy.
I wanted a nice, sedate young man who would enjoy doing math homework with me. (BTW, for those of you chronologically-challenged, aka young, that pic is Steve Martin circa 1978 doing his “wild and crazy guy” act.)
At the same time, K was telling Martin, “You’ve got to meet Karen. She’s so smart her head pulsates.”
Oooh, now that’s a sexy mental image. Needless to say, he declined. (BTW, this is not me. This is a Star Trek alien whose head pulsates. Not me. Got it? Besides, I’m not so tall.)
Well, this went on all through high school, until K’s birthday.
She was throwing a big SWEET SIXTEEN bash. So I said “Will he be there?” and she said, “Yes, but so will lots of other people you know.”
Likewise, she assured Martin of the same thing. He actually saw her invite lots of people.
The night arrived and I expected the party to be loud, but there was silence in her house. Crickets chirping, even.
K had uninvited everyone except me and Martin.
Well. I was totally ticked off to have been so sorely manipulated and, I’m ashamed to admit, I took it out on poor Martin.
But as fate would have it, he had this gorgeous head of golden hair. I was suckered in by the hair, then found out he was smarter and nicer than I thought.
It wasn’t love at first sight - maybe second or third sight. But 25 years later, he still makes my heart go pitterpat.
And now, 25 years later, I realize what a sacrifice K made for me.
She gave up her sweet sixteen party to orchestrate that wild scheme to get me and Martin to meet.
I’ve thanked her, but don’t think I can ever thank her enough. So … thank you, K. Your unselfish act has brought me more happiness than any person could ever expect and far more than I probably deserve.
You’re the true definition of a friend.
I rather liked the proverbs though!
K. Santhaa Reddy,Member, National Commission for Women
History seems to attract so much debate in India that possibly no one wants to talk about it.
Devadasis form a part of our history. A part, that we seem to be ashamed to admit. Discussing something like this is just not done in good company. English-speaking society in India has painted devadasis as prostitutes.
Governments are committed to abolition of this “evil” practice, which according to general impression was a cover for religious prostitution.
Naturally, the civil society of urban India would rather like to forget this dark footnote to Indian history or in some cases use it to just attack the “uncivilized barbaric non-religion” called Hinduism.
No one else in history seems to have been as much misunderstood as devadasis. No one has been as badly maligned as devadasis. There can be no other example of the truth being twisted in a most blatant manner.
The truth is that devadasis were an essential part of Indian temples. They performed useful functions at temples like cleaning of temples, lighting lamps, dressing the deities etc. They sang devotional songs and danced in devotion to the deities. They taught music and dance to girls.
They kept alive and developed a tradition of classical music and dance. Beyond these historical facts is a vast area of myths and false propaganda.
When the Europeans first arrived in India, they were surprised to see girls who sang and danced in temples. They called these girls as “nautch-girls”. For a European mind, a dancing girl could be just an entertainer performing for the pleasure of rich men.
The idea of art as an offering to God was unknown to them. To their medieval mindset, a dancing girl was showing off her body and was no better than a prostitute.
Yet, there is no mention in any historical book written by early European visitors to indicate any evidence of prostitution on the part of “temple-maids” or “nautch-girls”.
In 1892 an appeal was made to the Viceroy and Governor General of India and to the Governor of Madras. The appeal for the first time mentioned, “That there exists in the Indian community a class of women community commonly known as nautch-girls. And that these women are invariably prostitutes”.
The appeal was made by an organization called “Hindu Social Reforms Associations”. This was a part of “Anti-nautch movement”. The people behind the movement included some missionaries.
The replies received from the Governor of Madras and from the Viceroy denied the allegation that the “nautch-girls” were prostitutes.
Yet these so-called reformists continued their “reform movement”. It was customary in those days to invite devadasis to every festivity in well-to-do families for singing devotional songs and for dancing. The so-called reformists started campaigning against this practice.
From all historical records, it appears that till that point of time a devadasi was a respected member of the community. She was considered auspicious. A bead from her necklace was essential for the managalsutra of any bride. (This practice continued till very recent times.
At the time of my marriage, a bead was got from a devadasi). Such a respected member of the community was sought to be painted black and converted into an immoral prostitute.
No one knows the motivation behind maligning devadasis. Here was a poor woman who was dependent on the community; who had hardly any land; who had no organization or support from the Government.
She faced the organized power of the urban, educated groups who were backed by the ruling class. Her basic livelihood was threatened. She could do nothing about it. Slowly, she was left with no means to keep her body and life together.
In due course, the malicious false statements became true. Devadasi, left with no other means of survival, had to become a prostitute.
This was neither an easy journey nor was it complete. Many devadasis took to prostitution, but there were many more who resisted. A large number took on male patrons to whom they were generally loyal.
Recent surveys and studies have confirmed that a majority of former devadasis is engaged in some work like agricultural labour or is working as coolies.
Last year I visited Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Maharashtra for conducting public hearings on the subject of Devadasis.
There were six public hearings (two in each state). At every public hearing, the women demanded that they should not be branded as prostitutes. They did not know that their demand involved undoing a propaganda carried out for more than a century.
They are carrying on their struggle for dignity well aware of the fact that they belong to an institution on the verge of extinction.
There is no doubt that the institution of devadasis is dying or is almost dead. It could not and should not have survived after temples ceased to occupy their place of glory.
Yet, it survived and caused untold misery to the affected women. There are less than fifty thousand devadasis (including former devadasis) in the country today.
Most of them are not practicing any of the customs associated with devadasis. The institution of devadasis cannot be revived since the supporting institutions have ceased to exist.
Soon devadasis will be a subject of history.
On their way to the pages of history, these women are demanding justice. In an attempt to slander temples and Hinduism, these women were defamed in the worst possible way.
The women who kept dances like Bharatnatyam and Odisee alive for centuries deserve a honourable mention in the pages of history.
While we recount the so-called reformist movement, we must also remember the Revival Movement, which received strong support from Theosophical Society of India.
This movement did not revive the devadasi practice. Instead it preserved the classical music and dance of devadasis.
It was due to this movement that the art of Sadir (traditional dance of devadasis in Tamil Nadu) evolved into Bharatnatyam.
Rukmini Arundale, who took up the cause of evolution of Sadir into Bharatnatyam, was groomed and encouraged by Annie Besant.
The present day devadasi is a shadow of her former self. She works as a manual labourer and lives with a man who cannot or does not marry her. She needs our assistance to live a life of dignity. But even when we extend the hand to help her, let us give her due dignity that every woman deserves. Let us look at her with compassion rather than moral condemnation.
The present day devadasi needs empathy and rehabilitation. But the devadasi in the pages of history needs neither of the two. She demands her rightful place as an artist as an upholder of classical arts.
Let us change our view of history and get over the biases that our colonial past has given us.
Restoring devadasis to their due place in history is not a favour to devadasis. We owe it to ourselves to be able to face our own past without shame or remorse.
K. Santhaa ReddyMember,National Commission for Women,NEW DELHI
12 April 2002
Tread Carefully Lest You Trample On My Dreams
Farhan Shariff
Dreams divide our awareness of existence into two halves ---c who we are, and who we want to be.Dreams rescue us from harsh reality. We may be nine-to-fivers but it is our dreams that push us forward. Who knows what's round the corner, when we don't even know where the corner is or what it looks like? Destiny is a winding, unpredictable road that constructs itself as you move on.Heaven is a dream. No one has seen it. No one can verify its existence. And those who are there can't tell us what it looks like. The delights of heaven are supposedly unimagil:lable. But your concept of heaven could differ from mine.
Dreams suffer a tragic degradation as one grows older. As children, we all start out dreaming of being some kind of swashbuckling hero, a daring adventurer standing out. Imagination is fertile and fresh. You are allowed the liberty, because you're young. And then we are packed off to the assembly line that intends to make generic models out of otherwise unique individuals formal education, an ordeal that lasts for close to two decades.Supposed to equip us with the skills of survival.
But not every educated man is happy and successful. Numbers on the school marks sheet are not always proportionate to the quality of life. Life is an entity too complex to be quantified by mere numbers."We read, we write, we calculate/ Got no choice but to participate. Of heroes we learn, old and new/some inspire lots, some a few/Do i follow my dream, or do i follow the crowd?/ Do i bear with silent patience, or speak out aloud? / Do i laugh or do i cry? / Do i walk or should i fly? / Do i stand out and ask them why? / Or should i just shut up and comply?" And then comes that stage of life that can be best described by John Lennon's Working Class Hero - "When they've tortured
and scared you for 20-odd years/ And then they expect you to think of career". When we get out of school and college, we face surprises. You ask, "Why didn't anyone warn me, about this?"
The world suddenly seems to have grown 10 times bigger.Life is no longer about adven· ture and fantasy. From here on, it's all about responsibility, making ends meet and saving for a rainy day. About staying in line or risk losing everything. Because by now, you probably have a fanilly that has to share your risks.And they mayor may not be willing to do so. It's no longer about living - it's about not dying.Dreams are not yet dead.
They fight a determined battle as you struggle to survive. They get injured in the fight and even· tually weaken. Dreams don't put food on the THE table. "Stop dreaming SPEAKING' and get back to work, TREE . i want that done yesterday". And the sand in the hourglass keeps running out.You are busy, you barely realise how time flies.
Your dreams have now grown as old and weak as your physical self. They look nothing like those of the kid who tied a towel to his back and thought he was superman. The sands of time have buried most 'of them. Dreams are now reduced to dreaming of the moment the phone will ring.
Even a wrorignumber will do. And i wonder how many contemplate: Did we make the right decisions? Did we really benefit from the safety of the herd? These are abstract questions.The other Way could have been the right thing, hut the best laid plans fall victim to the unexpected.But one thing's for certain. The sand in the hourglass keeps running out. And towards the end, if there remain any unanswered questions, they shall remain so.
Dreams are like Harry Potter's Mirror of Erised. Men can waste away in front of them. But we have the right to dream. And we should dream. Because the first step towards fulfilling a dream is, well, dreaming.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008 10:57:00 PM
Wisdom like grey hair comes wid age
The process of acquiring wisdom comes wid bruised knees from falling of a bicycle, red cheeks from getting slapped by the girl on the bus stop, calling a girl healthy
Yess its been a hard life 2 get wise. And when i had enuff wisdom, i made a pass for dat girl on the bus stop again.
But, now she had 3 kids and a verry jealous husband I just barely managed to sneak away wid my pantz and a severe thrashing dat the next guy got, who wasnt as lucky as me.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008 11:34:00 PM
Keshi.
17 Apr 2008, 1152 hrs IST,PTI
NEW DELHI: Hundreds of Tibetans on Thursday took out a parallel torch relay run in the national capital, coinciding with the Olympic flame event, to protest against Chinese "atrocities" in their homeland.
The torch was lit at Rajghat, the samadhi of Mahatma Gandhi, after an inter-religion prayer meeting.
Large number of Tibetans, who had assembled at Rajghat, took a pledge to ensure that the torch, which "signified the freedom of Tibet and humanity", continued to burn.
The protesters, who took part in the rally, starting from Rajghat, carried Tibetan flags, placards and banners with messages such as "Azad Tibet, Surakshit Bharat" and "Free Tibet".
Among the participants in the rally were a large number of monks attired in traditional red robes, women and children besides spiritual leader Swami Agnivesh and actor- turned activist Nafisa Ali.
Agnivesh said majority of Indians were with Tibetans and the Dalai Lama was following the footsteps of Mahatma Gandhi.
"The official relay has little spirit of Olympics as it is being organised under extreme security. So we decided to live up to the original spirit of Olympics and organise a parallel run," Tseten Norbu, spokesperson of Tibetan Solidairy Committee, organising the protests here, said.
At Jantar Mantar, which has been the epicentre of the Tibetan protests over the past several days, a large number of protesters had also assembled.
Olympic torch arrives in Delhi
Watch: Police detain Tibetan protesters
Three-tier security ring for Olympic torch run
Watch: Olympic torch arrives in India
Tibetans protest near Rajpath soon after torch's arrival
Something brewing in Delhi's own Little Tibet
PT Usha, Bhupathi among torch bearers
Testing times for Tibetan students
Torch run today, Delhi braces for road chaos
Second time, Chinese wall too high for activists
Watch: Plan to disrupt Olympic torch revealed
Tendulkar not to carry Olympic torch: Sources
File: 'Don't invite politicians, stars for torch relay'
Bachchan slams Gill's remarks on Olympic torch relay
by John Lennon
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and class less and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
I wrote a book about my life, which was, necessarily, in large part a book about my life in Hollywood.
More recently I decided that I wanted to write a book about life. Just life itself. What I've learned by living more than seventy years of it.
What I absorbed through my early experiences in a certain time and place, and what I absorbed, certainly without knowing it, through the blood of my parents, and through the blood of their parents before them.
I felt called to write about certain values, such as integrity and commitment, faith and forgiveness, about the virtues of simplicity, about the difference between "amusing ourselves to death" and finding meaningful pleasures—even joy.
But I have no wish to play the pontificating fool, pretending that I've suddenly come up with the answers to all life's questions.
Quite the contrary, I began this book as an exploration, an exercise in self-questioning. In other words, I wanted to find out, as I looked back at a long and complicated life, with many twists and turns, how well I've done at measuring up to the values I espouse, the standards I myself have set.
Writers of a spiritual or metaphysical persuasion often convey their message through storytelling. They illustrate their points with parables drawn from great teachers of the past, whether it be Jesus of Nazareth, or Buddha, or the latest Arabic sage or Sufi mystic—the more exotic the better.
Some take this natural tendency to great lengths, writing whole books devoted to finding the deep wisdom embedded in ancient folk tales, psychologically complex stories drawn from Africa, Scandinavia, East Asia, Latin America, and many other far-flung countries.
They do this, it seems, to get as far away as possible from our contemporary mindset so that we can see modern, digitized, postindustrial life as if through new eyes (or, perhaps, through very ancient, very grounded eyes).