Greenpeace

A typical Hyderabadi early December evening it was --- pleasant, cool and bindaas.  The traffic my brother was negotiating was also not out of the ordinary.  Pillion riding, I was enjoying the cool breeze from over the Hussein Sager lake.  Catching the Buddha in his evening glory is a privilege, but I was surprised to see the usually placid Buddha in a cheerful and a particularly beneficent mood.  Observing keenly, he was showering all his blessings on something that was closer to his own ideals.

I could not help but turn to the other side to see what made the 'nirvikara' Buddha so happy.  I saw, exactly facing the Buddha, at the poetess Molla's statue, a small gathering.  On either side of it was a long stretch of colourful banners and placards.  The general mood in the gathering was solemn but there was a streak of anguish running through.  We stopped our vehicle and were guided to the parking lot by a volunteer.

I came to know from him that it was being organized by Greenpeace, the international environmental organization.  They were commemorating the 20th anniversary of the world's worst ever industrial disaster --- “The Bhopal Gas Tragedy,” that happened at five past midnight, 2-3 December, 1984.  I began reading the banners which were improvised from old sarees and painted by amateur painters.  They reflected what Greenpeace stands and fights for.  Some demanded proper justice to the Bhopal victims, some warned against the hazards of Genetically Modified Organisms (GMO), while some advocated the use of renewable energy sources.

As I was ambling through the pavement, one of the banners screamed for my attention saying “Patancheru:  Bhopal in slow motion.”  I was horrified when a volunteer informed me that there are 24 toxic hotspots in India and an incident like Bhopal may happen anywhere amongst them.  Closer home, we have the highly industrialized Patancheru area where the pharmaceutical industries have been releasing their toxic effluents into the nearby lakes, polluting them.  The contamination is seeping into the nearby farmlands and the farmers are unable to raise any crops.  Other industrial areas around Hyderabad like Jeedimetla and IDA Bollaram are not lagging far behind.  I understood that Bhopal is not a remote issue and that everyone has a stake in saving the environment.

Darkness started setting in and I was handed a candle by a volunteer.  The “candle light vigil” was to show our solidarity to the Bhopal victims.  More people were streaming in to join us with their own candles.  I was pleasantly surprised to see the organiser of Blue Cross Society, Amala Akkineni, solemnly paying her homage.  All through the event, the ideals of Greenpeace were adhered to.  Any waste created was guided into the 'Greenbins' brought in and to be cleared away by Greenpeace volunteers.  The traffic was in no way disturbed and some volunteers were seen minding it.

A bearded man, whom I came to know as the toxic campaigner of Greenpeace in Hyderabad, Mr. Bidhan Chandra Singh, was addressing a gathering.  The villagers of Patancheru then shared their sorrow.  Mr. Bidhan surprised me with his singing ability.

Jhadu maro jhadu maro,

DOW ko jhadu maro

cried he and we all sang in chorus with an accompaniment of various musical instruments.  I was overwhelmed with joy when he sang with perfect diction, our own Telugu folk song 'adavi talliki dandalo………….'.

An enlightening and enriching evening it was.  As we prepared to leave, I saw a volunteer holding a white board.  One by one, people were scribbling their thoughts on it as a photographer took shots to pass them on to the web.  I impetuously wrote “Greenpeace, I am with you'.”

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I was volunteering for this effort of Greenpeace to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Bhopal Gas tragedy.  I was delighted to catch a glimpse of Amala Akkineni.  I translated the press release into Telugu.  I wrote this account from an outsider's point of view and sent it to Deccan Chronicle's college page.  It got a response from them asking for more details, but even after supplying them those details, it was not published the next week, much to my disappointment.

I am now skeptical about Green Peace and their nefarious agenda and designs.  However, I cherish this experience.

Funny, My Dog

He was a little more than a pup when father brought him home two years ago.  He was a very amiable young dog who would curiously pursue insects and delighted in chasing away birds in our garden.

I am no expert to tell his pedigree. A strange-looking fellow, he is strongly built, short in stature, has light brown fur covering his body and has a pair of drooping ears.  As an additional qualification, he is lame in his left forepaw. That, of course, is no handicap as he is as swift as any dog can be. In fact, this supposed handicap adds a swagger to his gait. Perhaps he is one of his kind.  But seeing him first, I could not help but call him "Funny".

Now, at the prime of his youth, Funny is indisputably the handsommest dog in the street.  He is so successful with the females of his kind that I can only dream of to be with that of mine.  The little rascal grew up before my eyes, but sadly will grow old too.

Funny badly needs some discipline.  He does not like being leashed and loves running after father's bike.  He spoils our cricket, catching hold of the ball with his teeth and running away.  Perhaps a training stint would do him some good.  However, the trainer would surely need a couple of sniffer dogs to be set in trail of Funny when he does any mischief or plays truant!

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I  remember writing this as a pet story to be sent to Amala Akkineni, for publishing in Deccan Chronicle.