Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Aftermath

Chapter 1 (Missing)
(c) Harendra Alwis | Not to be reproduced without permission

He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not.


Samuel had an obsession for uncovering details in his stories that would have gone unnoticed in the eyes of most other journalists. His fearless and daring reports from the West bank had earned him a Pulitzer nomination two years ago and his colleagues at the Jerusalem Journal respected the professionalism with which he went about his work. To the world he was a celebrated journalist, anyone who could afford cable news anywhere in the world, knew his face well. His humour and playful personality masked the seriousness of his work and his razor-sharp wit.

He knew that something wasn't right about this story. Some of the details in it puzzled him. He found it difficult to put them together because they simply didn't seem to fit. Reason and logic could not glue the pieces of this puzzle in a way that made sense. Perhaps it required a degree of faith that he possibly couldn't admit to have.

He replayed every detail of what had happened during the last few days in his mind, as he drove to work. 'It's all over now', he told himself, all he had left to do was to investigate a few odd ends and he was sure he could seal the case forever. Suddenly his phone vibrated, throwing him off the mountain of thoughts he had built up in his mind. The number that lighted up his screen made him feel a bit nervous. The conversation lasted less than 5 minutes, but at the end of it, Samuel knew that the story was far from over - in fact this was just the beginning. He immediately called the Temple and after a brief but intense conversation, he could do nothing to wipe off the look of bewilderment from his face.

Eli was the news editor at the Jerusalem Journal. He had assigned Samuel to cover the execution of a man from Galilee who has been preaching to the masses all around the country for nearly three years. His name was Jesus - son of a wealthy carpenter. Some people claimed that he performed miracles and many others believed them. It was the mass popularity of his sermons however, that gave this story a significant political relevance. He had arrived in Jerusalem a few weeks ago and now lay dead in a tomb - crucified on the day before Passover.

Samuel had always been sceptical of religious people and that is why he was reluctant at first to work on the story. "God is not a magician" he told his mother over the phone once, who had called to tell him that her naigbhour had seen a blind man being cured by Jesus as he was passing through Samuel's hometown in Judea. In fact nobody in Jerusalem took much notice until the trial began. When Eli noticed that the Jewish elders who had sanctioned his arrest had backed off from making a judgement themselves, but had sent him to Governor Pilate, he sensed for the first time about the popular support that Jesus had from the people. But Pilate also refused to pass judgement and sent the man to Herod who also happened to be in Jerusalem at the time claiming he had no jurisdiction over people from Galilee. But in a bizarre turn of events, Herod had also refused to sentence Jesus and sent him back to Pilate. It was clear that nobody wanted to be seen with the blood of this man on their hands, possibly fearing a political backlash. That is when Eli asked Samuel to cover the story because he wanted his best political commentator on the job. As far as he was concerned, a story about any man who was popular enough to make the highest ranking Roman officials in Jerusalem think twice before executing him, would sell his newspaper.

The news Samuel had just received from his sources at the Governor's office had startled him. What had just happened seemed more unreal than any of the miracles that the man is said to have performed. Samuel was sure that this story could have no more twists, because after all, Jesus was now dead. That partially explained his bewilderment.

Briefly stopping at the door to knock, Samuel walked into Eli's office as soon as he saw Eli acknowledge his presence with a glance. Eli noticed the look on the young reporters face, but couldn't make up his mind whether he was excited or worried.

'How is the story coming up?' he asked calmly, 'I need it on my desk by 4 o'clock', but Samuel didn't seem concerned about the deadline. 'You may want to hear this first' he said, trying to arouse Eli's curiosity. 'The Governor's office had just issued a statement claiming that there had been an incident this morning at the tomb where Jesus had been buried and that his body is 'missing'. I just got off the phone with my source there and they tell me that it is likely the tomb was robbed early this morning. They can't confirm what time the attack took place. The high-priests have requested that the soldiers who were guarding the tomb to be locked away and they have now tightened security around the area'.

Eli's face lit up with the news. Like Samuel and many others in Jerusalem, Eli had also never taken much notice of Jesus. However, he knew that there were plenty of people who would notice the story now; and the expressions on their faces would also change when they glance at the headline with their morning coffee in hand. That was what mattered to him. 'Did you ask for an interview with the soldiers or the centurion who was in-charge?' Eli was always aware of the level of credibility and integrity he had to maintain in the news reports he authorised. People, who did not trust a single word that came out of a politician, trusted the same words when they were quoted in his newspaper. A reporters job however is to find out all the facts and write up the story with enough objectivity to make it seem credible, but at the same time stretch the facts to the borders of fiction - without actually crossing over - to make a full story out of it. Coupled with a sensational headline, a good story was a gold mine.

Samuel was aware of the fraction of veracity that he was expected to sacrifice when he wrote for a living, but he was convinced that he was fairly compensated for it. He never did anything against his conscience, but knew that he had to recast the truth into the shapes, sizes and colours that his audience preferred. 'The soldiers have already been remanded as requested by the high-priest's council and nobody is allowed to speak to them' Samuel blamed himself for not getting to the soldiers before they were taken away and missing the opportunity to find out what really happened. 'When I called the high priest's office they denied that they had made any such request and accused that security at the tomb was not tight enough. The Temple hasn't issued a public statement yet, but it's unlikely that they would accuse the Roman authorities publicly' he said without making any effort to hide his scepticism of the official explanation. 'The Governor's office on the other hand said that security was tight enough. They say that they had expected people loyal to the Nazarene to cause further controversy and were well prepared for it. I have the Centurion on record saying that the soldiers had instructions to be alert to attempts aimed at causing damage to the tomb or pilfer the body. After all, everyone was aware of the extent of public support the man had'.

'But how can they say that security was tight enough when they've already admitted that the body had been stolen from the tomb?' Eli didn't try to hide his confusion. 'The statement says that the body is 'missing', so technically, nobody's saying that it's been stolen' Samuel pointed out hesitantly. He always choose his own words carefully and knew how to pick up the hazy underlying semantics of a sentence even when the idea it conveyed seemed straightforward and clear. 'Actually I thought it was the end of this story when they crucified the man' said Eli, sounding genuinely intrigued for the first time during the conversation, 'but seems like somebody opened up a whole new can or worms'.

Samuel agreed. He had thought this was an open and shut case of an execution of a political prisoner. The man was surely insulting God by leading people to believe he was the 'messiah'; not that he cared much personally. He had no doubt that it must have been this heresy and blasphemy which ultimately convinced the people that Jesus deserved death on a cross. But he knew nothing that could explain why anyone would now risk their lives to steal his corpse. The facts he already had in his head led him to dead ends. He thought about who would rob the dead man's body and about a possible motive. The robbers weren't after any gold or silver because there was none in the tomb, and they had to be motivated by a reason so powerful as to make them want to risk attacking a troop of armed soldiers. What could they possibly do with the body anyway? The robbers had to be armed and in sufficient numbers.

These thoughts bounced off the edges of his mind in all directions as he walked along the straight line of bare grass that he had made over time, as he walked across the lawn everyday to avoid the longer route over the paved path form the car park to his office. He considered the bigger picture. Politicians always had facts to hide from the public eye. That's how things worked in Jerusalem. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the crucifixion of someone who dared to challenge the establishment. Samuel had no quarrels about the fact that such dissidents were a social burden and should be eliminated for the greater good. The history and social science he learnt in school had created no room in his mind for any doubt that the preservation of order and discipline in the country needed such measures.

Could the authorities have staged the robbery? However, he didn't understand what it was about this dead man that worried the temple so much as to stage a robbery of his tomb three days after his death. 'Is it possible that the high priests wanted to accuse the men who were faithful to Jesus of attacking the soldiers at the tomb and then prosecute them in the same fashion?' he asked himself. That would prevent any resurgence of the ideology that Jesus preached and reduce it to an unspoken memory that would die away with those who dared to stand by it. Samuel congratulated himself for making one possible connection. But on the other hand, it didn't make much sense because if that was the case, they would have already arrested some of his followers. Besides, it would embarrass the roman army if someone suggested that less than a dozen men could attack an armed Roman troop and run away with a corpse. As unlikely as his theories were, he didn't rule out any of them. He knew what he had to do now. He wanted to find out whether the men who came with Jesus had any motive to pilfer the body and whether they had enough men and weapons to challenge the armed soldiers. For that, he first had to find out where they were.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Nature's 'tools'


Dream-fire, originally uploaded by halwis.

Living in a liberal democracy as free thinking individuals, getting by in cities surrounded by hoards of other people and being connected to a world where most of our daily chores are ‘enabled’ or ‘powered’ by reasonably sophisticated technology, where I sit at a desk and carry out intellectually challenging tasks to make a living and buy practically all my needs at a supermarket or department store… really sucks.
It sucks because I am not made to live this way. Millions of years of evolution did not design me to live life this way. This lifestyle has been engineered in a matter of a couple of centuries at most, while our bodies and most of the uncontrollable parts of our minds are literally still trapped in the stone age.
I am actually made – I’ll say optimised - to live in a small clan, to hunt for food, be obedient and subservient to the leader of my clan. Natural selection was kind to those who followed such simple rules and so that way of life is etched into our genetic memory. Now that I am at the prime of my youth, biology and hormones in particular conspire to make me feel horny and ever eager to do horny things with equally horny lasses from neighbouring clans. Then civilization comes along to muck it all up and poetic notions about love and morality have made me a social outcast by working against my hormones to keep me celibate.
Multitudes cramped up into cities meant we had to draw up elaborate social conventions and stricter codes of behaviour to maintain order and peace. But the real destroyer was philosophy, science and their offshoot - technology. Medicine gave every nincompoop an almost equal chance of survival. That is not how nature worked. Even though evolution by mutation continued to create more diversity, natural selection had no say in who survived and who didn’t. You didn't have to adapt to your environment to survive. Well, on the other hand natural selection would have purged Dr. Stephen Hawking’s genes out of humanity and propagated those of say... any powerful, not necessarily intelligent but dominating men like Dr. Silva for example (if only to illustrate the point). But is humanity better off for having someone who claims to know a lot about Blackholes? Maybe, but it’s sort of like giving a five-star safety rating to a car because it’s got leather seats and climate control, while knowing that its brakes are faulty.
In a just, egalitarian, democratic, world; brawn would matter less. In free flowing lanes, a car without brakes would not be at a disadvantage. But it seems our biology is not yet sophisticated enough to enable us to blend seamlessly into an egalitarian, democratic, peaceful world let alone being equipped to create one. Even though the learnable, programmable parts of our minds creates a fleeting glimmer of hope for such a world, the hard-wired vestiges of a long and brutal route through evolution has preserved in us a genetic memory of tribalism, violence and selfishness. We are poorly equipped to be in a fostering and peaceful coexistence with each other - let alone share a wonderful planet with an incomprehensibly rich diversity of other species.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Situation Report

Image reproduced from:
http://hoipolloi.wordpress.com. Cartoon by Anjana Indrajith

Valiant troops of 1st Dutugamunu regiment led by Maj. Silva and 4th Chinthana regiment commanded by Lt. Col. Goatspirit together with close air support provided by the Impotent Elephant Force have captured the strategically important Law and Order area in Sri Lanka. They were ably assisted by 30 years of crimes and oppression conducted by the Pussycat regiment troops led by self styled Col. Velupulli who covered the flanks of the government's offensive by veiling their actions in a perception of legitimacy.
This decisive victory for the government comes after decades of abuse and covert manipulation of the once sovereign citizenry who have been waging a protracted submission to despotic rule and a half-arsed digestion of Minotaur Dung that they have been made to swallow through government media. Deep penetration units of a hitherto secret battle formation carried out successful attacks at identified targets in the deep battle space last month, including a radio and TV station in the outskirts of Colombo and a newspaper editor who was fatally shot on his way to work. Thugs who conducted these operations have confirmed that the targets were successfully engaged. Exact damages to the civil liberties and freedoms of citizens are yet to be confirmed.
Meanwhile defence analysts warned that liberal thinkers and prominent voices of non-violent dissent in the south of the country will continue to be targeted in the ongoing inhumanitarian operation of the government as in the North for many decades. Other hysterical elements fear the possibility that the next generation of forces similar to the 2nd Silva regiment and the disbanded Seenibola regiment – famous for their low IQ and night-club brawls - could be waiting in the wings to stage an attack to dismantle any remaining resistance by a surprise rear shafting manoeuvre behind people's defence lines.
Historians point out that the people of Sri Lanka have shown resilience during the past century by resisting and withstanding more systematic assaults by colonial forces and staging strong fight-backs to regain lost independence and freedom. Such acts of resistance was enabled by their ability in the past to unite across lines of race and creed to form a common front in the face of tyranny and injustice. This however seems an unlikely possibility in the current theater of battle, given the fact that a significant majority of the masses have been incapacitated by a dysfunctional education system, manipulated media and violence perpetrated on them by elements ranging from 'obese, psychopathic, wannabe terrorist, feline flatulence globules to the very trustees of their unalienable sovereignty.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Who we are and what we do


Glass and Stone, originally uploaded by halwis.

There is nothing noticeably different between two red blood cells of two individuals. Yet, each cell inherits the unique (though somewhat similar) genetic code of each donor – out of which an identical copy of the donor could be cloned. The character of every living thing and even inanimate object is partly defined and partly influenced by the duality of inheritance and conditioning. A rock may inherit the basis for its rigidity and colour from a unique mineral composition, but its strength, shape and size may have been conditioned by geological forces and erosion or even manual forces such as the stokes of a stone mason's chisel. Similarly, living things inherit form and function from their ancestors while their knowledge and traditions are conditioned by their experience of the environment and by society.
The influence of inheritance and conditioning can reasonably explain how things are. However, they do not offer useful explanations about why we do some of the things we do. Perhaps this is because imagination, ambition, desire... are not inherited nor can they be easily conditioned into or out of us. These are our creations. Our actions and what we do are also in their final sense – creations. But are we what we do?
I’ve always wondered about the link between who we are and what we do. Even a mildly introspective person would take little time to realise that there are contradictions between the way we think of our selves and the way we act. If our actions are separated from their underlying motives, it becomes increasingly difficult to classify them narrowly as ‘good’ or ‘evil’, ‘right’ or ‘wrong’.
It seems obviously too simplistic to see individuals being classified as ‘good’ or ‘bad’, ‘terrorist’ or ‘peacenik’ or even ‘sane’ or ‘insane’. Classification and generalisation can be useful tools to define and understand broad principles but such principals do not constitute any real or useful knowledge. Arguably, the constituent raw elements of our personalities such as our thoughts, words and actions have no distinguishable form or shape or colour of their own. They combine to create the perception of ‘who we are’ but it is not always clear whether our thoughts are directly linked to our words or inturn to our actions.
The visible boundaries of our self-knowledge such as the extent to which our personalities and actions are inherited or can be conditioned remain yet unexplored. I am not in the mood to explore them either, because I have a couple of hefty bills to pay today, much to learn about ASP.NET and a never ending list of applications to audit (and document) at work and dreading the fact that I have groceries to shop for and half a bag of potatoes to boil and peal before dinner.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The gentlemen's game


Win-win situation, originally uploaded by halwis.

Life is pretty good at Mid-Wicket… it’s not as boring as long-off, more respectable than third-man, not as depressing as gully (deep gully is usually worse) and a lot more comfortable than the square leg region. Some people assume that fine-leg must be a pretty sexy place to be, but batsmen tend to glance down fine leg quite often and it gets extremely wired down there. Mid-on and mid-off don’t offer a grand wide view of the whole pitch as midwicket does, and life in the cover region is just too tiring. Hard work put in by the sweeper cover and wicket keeper goes ignored and thankless on the best of days. How about the bowlers you ask? Well the bowlers get banged out of the park – and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds. Forward short-leg gets bullied a lot and nothing really lasts at the slips.
Cricket terminology can be very subtle and therefore pretty difficult to catch, but the pressure usually never goes away because no one likes to be given out caught. The worst dismissal by far however, has to be getting out trapped with your “leg before the wicket”. So all else being equal, Midwicket is a nice place to be, even though it hardly offers too many chances to change the course of the game because only idiots get out caught at midwicket and every self-respecting batsman knows that a jab towards mid-wicket never really offers the chance to steal a quick one!
So when “the captain’s hand on your shoulder smote", you are left with little choice but to “play up, play up and play the game” or take up water polo… a game far less susceptible to seditious metaphors and euphemisms.