Surrogacy is a complex and contentious moral and ethical issue across global cultures. The rise of Westerners using Indian surrogate mothers has added a political dimension to the religious and legal debate.
The surrogate mother: Spiritualism and Hindu Mythology
In the Bhagvata Purana, there is a story that suggests the practice of surrogate motherhood. Kan(sh) the wicked king of Mathura, had imprisoned his sister Devaki and her husband Vasudeva because oracles had informed him that her child would be his killer. Every time she delivered a child, he smashed its head on the floor. He killed six children. When the seventh child was conceived, the gods intervened. They summoned the goddess Yogamaya and had her transfer the fetus from the womb of Devaki to the womb of Rohini (Vasudeva’s other wife who lived with her sister Yashoda across the river Yamuna, in the village of cowherds at Gokul). Thus the child conceived in one womb was incubated in and delivered through another womb.
Buddhism and Hinduism
Buddhism totally accepts surrogacy. This may be because Buddhism, unlike Christianity, Judaism and Islam, doesn’t make procreation a moral duty. Couples are not under pressure to marry or have children, and there are no Buddhist teachings suggesting that infertility treatments or surrogacy are immoral. Hinduism allows infertility treatments in specific circumstances. Children are very important to Hindu families, and medical help is allowed if a couple can’t conceive. Hindus permit artificial insemination using the husband’s sperm, but not that of an unknown donor , because the child would not know its lineage.
It is said surrogacy is rarely used by Hindus, but surrogacy clinics are a booming industry in India. surrogacy clinics are a booming industry in India.
After watching “Global antibiotics ‘revolution’ needed” on BBC just an hour ago made me realise “How much ever antimicrobial resistance revolution will be there, the bacteria will try to come back with more strength. Isn’t it thought provoking news “Superbugs, resistant to antimicrobials, are estimated to account for 700,000 deaths each year. But modelling up to the year 2050, by Rand Europe and auditors KPMG, suggests 10 million people could die each year – equivalent to one every three seconds.” And, you know who is saying that, “the second largest industry on earth Medicine
It’s a scary movie cliché – the good guy does everything he can to kill the bad guy, and no matter what he tries, the bad guy just keeps getting back up, bloody and mangled, but still alive somehow. Eventually, the hero deals one final blow, and the evildoer dies.
Health care is a lot like these scary movies. Doctors fight the villains – let’s say bacteria – with all the tools they have – in our case, a slew of antibiotics. The bacteria fight to live, but eventually the antibiotics prove too powerful. The bacteria and the resulting infection die, and we live. Yay for modern medicine!
But you know how where there’s a bad guy, there’s always a sequel in the making where he’s not really dead? In the health care world, we’re moving rapidly toward that same scenario. The bugs that are infecting us are transforming into superbugs, impervious to all known antibiotics. Health care leaders across the globe are warning that many of the bacteria that harm us are growing resistant to the drugs we’ve been using to combat them.
Everything Else Has Failed! Don’t You Think It’s Time For Love?
Year – 2007
5 Spray paints on paper.
Over the past ten years, Sharon Hayes has been engaged in an art practice that uses multiple mediums—video, performance, and installation—in ongoing investigation into various intersections between history, politics and speech. Her work is concerned with developing new representational strategies that examine and interrogate the present political moment, not as a moment without historical foundation but as one that is always allegorical, a moment that reaches simultaneously backwards and forwards. To this aim, she employs conceptual and methodological approaches borrowed from artistic and academic practices such as theater, film, anthropology, linguistics, and journalism.
If people call Varanasi a “Holy city” or “Lord Shiva’s city” she is no indifferent to me.
Returning back from the ceremony of cremation from Manikarnika Ghat, an everyday ritual taken place famously known as “Burning ghat” of Varanasi. I saw along the edges of the river people are having a fun evening , Sadhus smoking weeds, crowds were watching multiple religious ceremonies, and street vendors selling food and crafts who were almost dispersed when on my return back the lodge. A frightful feeling and cold sweat in the numbing month of December, realised it was just foolish of me to stayed that long in Ghats all alone.
After crossing three to four ghats I was confused about the right staircase towards my room. I heard one female voice coming from one deep dark staircase, thought to take steps up. A great sigh of relief! I knew, I could locate the lane where my Lodge was. The voice got louder and rough when I reached upto middle of the staircase. I saw shadow of three men and one woman, as if they were trying to force her for something and some filthy words to made my blod freeze. Sound of slaping and whaking her took sudden silence, when I was passing by them close..I could hear her suppressed weeping. I was reasoning that is it really possible in Holy city of “Lord Shiva” ?
Waking up next morning as usual I walked down to the Ghats to have my morning tea. It’s heavy fog to see any clear picture whether the lady had opened her tea stall yet or not and disappointed seeing her closed store. “May be it’s too cold and and foggy to start her stall”, I thought. I walked down toward Manikarnika Ghat to looking for another tea stall. I know the famous silent “Chai-Baba” (tea-monk) stall was there. Yes, he was precisely the same as described by many tourist in their travel memoir.
Three days went on, and her store was still closed. I have only two days to leave Varanasi and may be I will never going to see her again. That day my friend accompanied me for the whole day as his research on Vedic astrology was hold out for the day. I told him about my curiosity to meet the lady before I leave. I asked him, “have you ever noticed her”? She always greets people who come to her store. Doesn’t she look mysterious? I don’t understand despite she makes fine tea with ginger why very less people show up. She spotted me very first time when I went to her for tea. She had no ungracefulness when I told her about my solo visit in Varanasi. Instead she said that she wished to be as liberated as me and belong to this class of society. I smiled at her and said, “It’s not about class of our society, It’s my spirit and zeal”
It was my last day in Varanasi so my friend from Canada(the research guy) and another Yogi form Germany decided to have lunch together. One of a local guy who works in the restaurant where we usually go for the lunch and dinner and been very sincere to my Canadian friend for many years, sat next to us. He always comes up with some local news to tell about. I was thinking, “What’s today!” and he stared at me first as if I have done something bad to him. He straight away told me, “If you visit Varanasi next time, never walk alone in the dark passages, specially the staircase which you came up few days ago. There is a disputes their every evening after she closes her tea stall”. And I took a sip of water before which I was about take a bite of my Chapati. “She was once a prostitute after her father died” he said looking at my friend. “Her father was a poor priest but managed to look after his family by serving ritual prayers for the tourist. At the age of thirteen only she was forced to be a prostitute by her mother. Many times she has been bitten up, abused and faced ferocity. But, she became a learned and skillful prostitute by the age of seventeen. After sometime she got married and started selling tea near one of the ghats. Everyone thought that her past life was buried behind after marriage, but nothing happened like that. Her husband became her flesh dealer very soon. Every evening there are some deals in that dark staircase and she was forced to overwork by her husband”. I soon realised It was the tea selling lady that evening.
I asked him, “Do you know where she is? I haven’t seen her for last five days.”
He told looking at three of us, “She has been sent to one of a brothel of infamous district in Shivdaspur.”
Her face is still vivid in my mind. She will always be the tea selling lady on the bank of river Ganges. If people call Varanasi a”Holy city” or “Lord Shiva’s city” she is no indifferent to me. I will always keep wondering…. what will happened to her!
The Bible warns that God “will come near to you for judgment … who oppress the widows and the fatherless” (Malachi 3:5).
About 20 million children, about 4% of their population in India and higher than people living in Delhi, are orphan. Of them, parents of only 0.3% children have died and rest have been abandoned.
Year 2016 entered and visiting a Orphanage was top of my priority list. for many months I was searching for those Orphanages who are not business oriented. So, I Published in social media that “I want teach free Yoga to in Orphanages”. And, one of my acquaintance apprised about “Asha Kuteer” . So, my intention of meeting those destitute kids, to see their eyes, talking to them, eating with them, playing with them just fulfilled. I realised the most children in Asha Kuteer, are being able to cope up with their new environment and specially the Founder of ASHA Kuteer Orphanage HOME, Jeevan Rao Gudeti and his wife Mercy trying their utmost effort to connecting and affinity of parenthood to the children.
But, while I was about to leave them, espied three girls with common mantle wound been found. I stopped and took some time out talk to them each. And here is they narrated me their stories with Mounika:
She and family was living in hut in old city(Hyderabad, India). she was six year old when one nightmare has change her life along with her younger brother. That fateful night her father came drunk and had a quarrel with her mother. He has beaten her mother brutally, then after he poured gasoline on her and burnt her alive. Mounika was holding her younger brother in her hand and she got deathly still seeing her mother burning alive. When she assimilated she started crying and shouting, she immediately ran out and asked for help. But nobody came help her. In that state, she even beaten her father. She then decided go to her mother’s friend who finally came to delve into the incident. She called Mounika’s grandmother and immediately admitted Mounika’s mother in the hospital, but she couldn’t survive.
After that Mounika fell sick and got fever. She was so traumatized completely to make her bed ridden and didn’t speak with anyone for long time.In the meantime, her father was arrested and kept in Jail. after he came out on bail, he started working in railway station as a porter. But for some unknown reason, he was killed and kept on railway track.
Even after years, Mounika not being able getting out of that trauma. While narrating this to me, there were tears rolling from her eyes. When i asked her father’s name, she was reluctant to tell his name as she is still angry on him.
She is from a village in Tandur area, Ranga Reddy Dt. Her father was a alcoholic. He came home drunk and had quarrel with her mother and beaten her. After that they slept. Everything was looking good and seems a bright morning was waiting for them. But, late in the night, he poured gasoline on her mother and burned her. Sravanthi got up from the sleep when she heard gruesome scream of her mother. And saw her mother was burning. She immediately woke her brother up and ran out to inform her neighbors. They called Sravanthi’s grand mother. By the time, they reach, her mother was dead. Neighbors kept her father in a room and locked him. Next day morning police came and arrested him. He was imprisoned but soon he came out on bail. After some time, he was murdered. It is rumored that some family member of Sravanthi’s mother might have killed him. After a year, both Sravanthi and Her brother has joined in our Asha-Kuteer Home.
Eesha was very young, when her father left her and her mother. She doesn’t even know who he is. Later they moved to a slum. Her mother was working in a factory. One day she came home little early from work and she fell asleep early. Late in the evening one man has knocked the door. Eesha opened the door. He savagely entered into their room and poured the gasoline on her mother. It even spilled on Eesha too. Then the man lit the fire and ran away. Eesha went out for help and somehow could save her mother in hellish condition. Just after few days, her mother died. Later she and her brother moved to her uncle’s home. But, her aunty started torturing them ruthlessly. A year of callous survival , she has joined Asha Kuteer Home.
If you have any enquirers kindly contact me!
“We have come dangerously close to accepting the homeless situation as a problem that we just can’t solve” by Linda Lingle