Strictly speaking, until recently the word “habitat” never struck a chord in me; it never rung a bell. When it came to understanding the concept of human habitat, I was the goat to whom the guitar was being played. I imagined of habitat as a weird and remote place where headless animals bump into each other and where legless animals crawl and where the fabled Lochness monster once lived in harmony with the mammoths and the dinosaurs, or something like that. But sometime back, I realized that my misconception of habitat was not a personal problem, many others perceived of habitat as a noun, a place, a region or an indigenous forest full of predators and preys and the other uncanny characters in the animal world.
It dawned on me, late, that “habitat” is a verb, a doing word. It is the way we live, what we eat and drink, how we cook and eat, or “not cook” what we eat. Habitat went beyond housing and people, it came to life and meant much more. Habitat is all that surrounds us and how we …
The WHO has all sorts of
damning statistics, but for the
moment the one that matters
to me is that the global death
rate is 100 deaths per minute.
Why am I concerned, you ask? Well, I did not have a near-
death experience or something
close to that to make me pay
attention to death, suddenly. It
is amazing how much we fear
death. But today, I looked around me for a day and
realized that the ubiquity of
death is so real we are lucky to
live. Try and see what I mean.
The food could choke you, a car
could knock you down, or heart attack, or Osama, or something
else. I was at an abattoir the other
day. What I saw shocked me and
for once I confirmed that indeed
I have a tinge of escapism in me.
(The first time I realized this, I
was out bowling with an acquaintance. Having finished his
soda, my friend-to-be turned
his thirst on my soda. Unluckily
for him, I bowled a little earlier
than expected and when I
turned…there he was, sipping my drink with ignominy all over
his face. I turned my ba…