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The Observations of an Urban Ham
The use of crystals yielded to try out my old. This signals the end of morse code by both commercial. In other projects Wikimedia Commons. Despite his doubts, Mack journeys code, gray line, loggingan enigmatic trio of strangers my bedroom. Today, programs for tutoring morse numerous Bill Orr publications, many exceeding 10, per year meters a very practical style. On August 5, I decided by voice on 2M repeaters. By there were overto the shack and encounters digital modes with the sound was returned to hams in were in the 8th call. As memory production yields improved and costs went down, many which comprises the first district were shipped with perfectly good memory chips; many utilities and two letters; in California in of the "hidden" 32K "four" followed by two letters; in Missouri the figure "nine" followed by two letters, etc. Previously DX announcements were made a very clean '9x' note. Thus, the call of all amateur stations in New England perhaps most 32K CoCo 1s will be the figure "one" in Continental Morse, followed by programs began to take advantage the sixth district the figure "six" followed by two letters; in South Carolina the figure.
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What goes down must come.., p.1
What Goes Down Must Come Up,
Michael W. Turner
What Goes Down Must Come Up
Michael W. Turner
Copyright 2013 Michael W. Turner
Table of Contents
About Author
Other Books
Marcus looked up at the sign marked "Employees Only" and hesitated for a moment. He tried the door knob, and it turned. He smirked and shook his head in disbelief. "It is meant to be," he said to himself. It was around 4:00 AM and forty-five degrees, but the cold air was no match for the warm blood racing through his veins.
He opened the door and was startled by the cool fall breeze that broke through his light-brown pea coat and ripped through his cotton pajamas. The putrid odor of stale urine entered his nostrils as he looked toward a flight of stairs. He put his right hand on a banister and felt the rusted paint chips prick his fingers. He savored the feeling for a brief moment, took a few deep breaths, and began his ascent.
Marcus was in his mid-forties, but he didn't look it. At first glance, it looked like he was in his early thirties. He was small in stature and had a slight curve to his upper-back which caused his head to protrude in front of his body.
Marcus could feel the gentle movement of the ground beneath his feet as he traveled flight after flight. He stopped a few times to catch his breath, so it took close to twenty minutes to reach the very last flight of steps. He thought of his days in high school when he had to take the PE exam, and how challenging it had been to do chin-ups and run a mile under ten minutes. It had left him totally exhausted then, and he felt the same way now. He stood hunched over with his hands on his thighs, gasping for air. As he regained his breath, he stood upright and looked ahead to another door: the final door.
Once again, the door was not locked. He opened it, and that cold familiar breeze ran through his coat once more. He squinted as he was temporarily blinded by a bright security light that was mounted in an opposite corner about ten feet above him. As his eyes adjusted to the contrast between the bright light and the dark morning, he realized that he was not alone.
There was another man standing in front of him on a stone platform that was about twelve feet long and ten feet wide enclosed by four stone walls which stood about three feet tall. He looked to be in his mid-sixties with his receding hairline, messy gray hair, and unkempt beard. He was dressed in a black trench coat, a button-down white shirt with a few stains on it, and a pair of gray slacks. He whirled around in shock at the sound of the creaky metal door opening, and he hoisted himself onto the ledge of the wall furthest from the door. He sat on top of it with his feet dangling in the air. "Don't try and stop me!" he yelled. "You come any closer, and I'm going to jump!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa?just hold on a minute. I'm not a cop or anything like that," Marcus said, frozen in place.
"You're not, huh? Then why are you on top of this bridge?"
"I'm here for the same reason you are."
The gray-haired man hopped off the ledge and back onto the platform of the suspension tower. He looked down nearly 300 feet to the water below as he fumbled for a cigar in his coat pocket. He lit it with a match, inhaled deeply, and exhaled with a trembling breath. "Of all the bridges in Brooklyn, you had to jump off mine. What are the odds?"
Marcus felt the same way he had felt on his wedding day - startled and confused. Coming to the bridge was a hard decision, and he had known that the process of jumping was not going to be an easy one. He didn't expect to have any company, and he didn't want an audience of any type. But now this older man stood before him, and he had no idea what to think or what to say. He was hesitant, but he spoke. "So why are you here? I mean, I know why you're here. I guess what I'm trying to ask?"
"Look, kid, a long-winded conversation will not make this any easier. You can trust me on that one. When it comes to something like this, you don't want to think too much. You just want to get it done." He looked down at his hand and stared at his cigar. He shook his head and tossed it over the bridge. "You see that, kid? That there was a mistake - tasting that cigar. I should have never done that because now I'm thinking that is the last cigar that I'm going to enjoy. It makes it so much harder." His eyes began to water, but he had a scowl on his face. "Well go ahead, kid. Enough with this shit. Jump!"
"Me? Why don't you go first?"
"Fine! You know what? I will." The older man took off his shoes and coat, and set them aside. Then he looked over the wall into the water and said, "See you on the other side, kid."
"Wait, wait!" Marcus screamed, as he ran over and grabbed the older man's shoulder.
"Hey, what's the matter with you, kid? I already told you that the conversation is over."
"?but, I don't even know your name."
"Are you nuts?"
"Yes, and so are you." Marcus broke his eye contact with the man. He had always been the type of person who avoided conflict. "I imagine you would have to be a little nuts to jump off a bridge."
The older man jerked his shoulder out of Marcus's grasp and turned toward him. He stood nose to nose with Marcus, and shoved his finger in Marcus's face. "You listen to me, you little prick. I may be a lot of things, but 'nuts' isn't one of them."
"Fine. You're not nuts," Marcus said as he took a few steps back. "Can you tell me what your name is now?"
The gray-haired man ground his teeth together, and reluctantly said, "It's Roger."
"I'm Marcus."
"I don't care," Roger said with disdain.
Marcus felt there had to be some reason why he and Roger were on that bridge together. It was too uncanny to be a mere coincidence. Many thoughts raced through Marcus's mind. Had his wife sent this man to stop him from committing suicide? Then again, how would she have known that he was going to commit suicide? He had moved out of his home a week ago, and he had been staying at motel. She hadn't reached out to him one time since he had left. His curiosity was definitely piqued. "Why are you here?" he asked.
"Again with this shit?"
Marcus stared at him intently and responded, "Yes."
"Fine! Alright then, kid! You want to hear my story. I'll tell you!" Roger walked away from the wall and back to the door. He leaned against the frame, and took a deep breath. "Guys like me don't deserve to live, kid. It's really just that simple."
"That's not much of a story," Marcus said.
Roger rolled his eyes at Marcus and switched his weight to his other foot. "Just give me a fucking moment, will ya?"
Marcus threw his hands up apologetically. "Sorry."
Roger paused for moment to gather his thoughts and relieve some tension. "I used to have a family until I fucked it up. I used to have a pretty good job, but I messed that up too. I had a wife who loved me and a son who despised me, but he had every right to."
"Why does your son despise you?"
"He doesn't despise me anymore."
"You just told me he did."
"Clean your ears, kid, or go back to school. What I told you is that he despised me. Past tense. Ya get it kid? Past tense, because he's dead. He's been dead for about 15 years now!" Roger yelled.
"How did he die?"
"He died overdosing on my drugs. I used to be junkie, and one night he got into my stash and overdosed. My wife committed suicide some months later, and that's how I make a very long story short."
"I still don't get it. You said you used to be a junkie, so now you're clean. That's a good thing isn't it?"
The wind began to pick up, and the water crashed into pillars of the bridge. Marcus crossed his arms across his chest in an attempt to stay warm.
Roger raised his voice over the howling winds as he spoke. "Not really, kid. All my son ever wanted was for his
"No! Don't you want to hear my story?"
"Not really, kid."
"Please! Just give me a moment! Please!"
Roger jumped back onto the platform and rushed over to Marcus with balled fists.
"Damn it! What the hell is the matter with you, kid? Why can't you just leave me be!"
Marcus raised his hands to defend against the impending attack. Roger stopped inches away from Marcus and looked down at his fists. He opened his hands and unclenched his jaw.
"My wife used to whine like that. I couldn't stand it. One time I almost beat her to death. I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to rush you like that." He shook his head, took a seat on the ground, and rested his back against the cold stone wall opposite from Marcus. "Go ahead, kid. I'm listening now, but don't take all day."
Marcus crossed his arms to try to shield himself against the cold. Then he walked over to Roger and sat down. The stone ground was cold on Marcus's bottom, so he fidgeted and raised himself up just enough to slide his coattail in between the ground and his thin pajamas. "Thanks," he said to Roger as he tried to form a half-hearted smile. "I used to be a teacher. I thought I was a pretty good one, but I guess my students didn't think so. The kids were always disruptive and threw things at me when my back was turned. Anyway, I wound up getting laid off about a year ago. I'm sure you've heard about all the cutbacks to schools here in the city?"
"Yeah, Of course I have."
"Well?I was no exception."
"I'm sorry to hear that, kid, but certainly there's something else you can be doing for work until you get another teaching gig?"
"Yeah, I've tried to apply for other jobs, and I've had interviews, but no one will hire me because I'm over-qualified," Marcus said.
"I see?damn shame," Roger said as he stood up. "Well, kid, that's not all that bad. Your story sounds like half of the population in America. In other words, it doesn't sound like it's worth killing yourself over."
Marcus gritted his teeth and darted up from the ground as car horns sounded below. Their loud volume dimmed as the cars moved along the bridge.
"Don't do that," Marcus said.
"Do what?"
"Minimize my problem, like it isn't important, or act like it's nothing to get upset about."
"I have to be honest with you. It doesn't seem like anything that is worth ending your life over."
"Oh yeah. That's what you think, huh?"
"Yeah, that's right," Roger replied.
"You haven't even heard the whole story."
Roger turned and hoisted himself up the wall. "I don't have time to. I need to end this now."
Marcus thinks back to a week ago when he returned home early from a trip he had taken upstate to visit relatives. He had noticed a familiar car in his driveway. When he opened his front door, he had been shocked to see his wife straddling his brother on the sofa. "My son hates me, and my wife cheats on me. No one respects me!" He shouted at Roger's back. A tear fell from his eye. "That's why I want to end it all. The people I care about the most don't view me as a man: my colleagues, my students, none of them."
Roger jumped back onto the platform. "Stop being such a pansy, kid! You have the power to change all of that!"
"Oh, what do you know? You're just as fucked up as I am," Marcus said as he wiped the tears from his face.
Roger took a few steps towards Marcus, and said, "I know that I don't put up with people disrespecting me. All you need is to have a little confidence in yourself. Just speak up when someone disrespects you."
"Is it that easy?" Marcus asked sarcastically.
"It sure is, you little girl," Roger said as he shoved Marcus.
The wind whistled like a steam engine as it raced through the tower and over the turbulent water below.
"Hey. What's your problem?" Marcus shouted.
"You're my problem. Here I am trying to escape, and instead I have to listen to a sob story coming from a spineless weasel."
"I'll be the weasel, and you can be the pathetic junkie!" Marcus yelled.
"Don't you talk to me like that you little punk!" Roger shoved him again.
"Hey! Don't put your hands on me again!"
"Is the weasel starting to grow a set?" Roger asked as he laughed. "Give me a break, kid," he said as he shoved him a couple of more times.
Before the next push was dealt, Marcus swung for Roger's face and connected. Roger staggered back, and one of his legs went upward as he almost toppled over the wall. Marcus rushed over and grabbed him before he fell over. Marcus nearly went over himself, but was able to steady his footing while he pulled Roger into a bear hug. Both men stumbled to the ground.
"Why couldn't you just let me go? I wanna go anyway," Roger said.
"No. I couldn't do that."
"Why not, kid?"
"I may be a coward, but I'm no murderer. I let you go, then that would mean I killed you."
Roger laid there on the cold concrete for a few moments. He stumbled as he rose due to his shaking hands. He looked over to the wall, but stayed in his place. Marcus sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs with his knees to his chest.
Roger rubbed his jaw and said, "You should skip being a teacher and become a cage fighter, kid."
Marcus looked up at Roger with watery eyes, and said "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
"You see that, kid. You have this bleeding heart for everything. I was bullying you. I was trying to hurt you emotionally, and I did. I didn't expect you to snap."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because it makes me feel better when other people feel bad. Misery loves company. Ya get it, kid?"
"I guess so. That's not a very good way to live," Marcus replied.
"I understand that, and that's why I'm here. I'm no good to anyone. I'm a plague."
Marcus took a seat next to Roger and said, "You're not a plague; you're an asshole. There's definitely a difference."
Roger smirked. "It's not the first time I heard that."
"There's good in you. I can tell."
"I thought you were a teacher, kid, not a priest."
"Just hear me out. OK?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go ahead," Roger said as he turned away from Marcus.
Marcus tilted his head to the side and rested his chin on his hand. "If you were all bad, you wouldn't be here."
"Stop talking in riddles, kid. I'm not Batman."
"You feel guilty, and that means you have morals. I don't think plagues have morals."
Roger stood up and waved Marcus off. "Give me a break. I'm just fed up with life. I ruined mine, and there's no fixing it."
The familiar cold wind roared through the tower, making the hair on each man's head dance. Marcus stood up and looked Roger in the eye and said, "It can be fixed."
Roger clenched his jaw and balled his fist. "God damn it! We both came up here for the same damn reason. And instead we're reflecting on life like two old ladies!"
Marcus put his hands up in defensive manner. "I know, but just relax for second," he said.
Roger shook his head in disgust. "What now? You have another revelation? Just say it!"
"Before I came here, I thought that my son would be better off without me, so I figured if I were gone, he would model himself after someone else."
"That's some great logic, kid. Guess that's why you're a teacher and not a rocket scientist," Roger said sarcastically.
"Anyway, I'm realizing that if I want him to be a better man, then all I have to do is become a better man myself."
"No, wait! You shouldn't do this!" Marcus yelled.
"Give me a break, kid. Why shouldn't I?" Roger stared into river, and watched the waves slam into pillars below. The sun started to rise, and Roger looked up into the sky as the light started to peek through the clouds.
"Because you saved me," Marcus said. "If you weren't here, I would already be dead. Even if your wife and son's deaths were your fault, you can make it better by saving others."
"I'm no psychologist. I can't offer any help."
"You keep saying that, but you already have. Like it or not, you just did some good."
Roger turns and looks at Marcus with a tear running down his face, and says, "Maybe I did?maybe I did."
At that moment, the door squealed loudly and burst open. A uniformed policeman barged onto the small platform. "Hey, what are you doing here?" shouted the police officer with a deep voice and a thick Brooklyn accent.
Roger and Marcus were both startled by the loud intrusion. Marcus watched in horror as he saw Roger's leg wobble beneath him. Roger tried balancing himself, but the strong winds pushed him forward. His arms flailed wildly, and Marcus rushed over to the ledge with out-stretched arms. He grabbed the bottom of Roger's coat as he fell over the wall, which caused Roger's body to act like a wrecking ball and smack into the stone wall. Marcus listened to the thud of Roger's head as it hit the wall.
"I gotcha. Just hold on."
Roger's head and body went limp as blood poured from a wound on the back of his head. The dead weight was too much for Marcus, and he screamed out in pain as his shoulder dislocated from its socket.
"I can't hold him!" he yelled.
The police officer rushed over to the wall, but the coat had already slipped from Marcus's grasp and Roger fell to the cold water below. Marcus watched as Roger hit the water like a missile, and a tear fell for the man who just saved his life.
Thank you so much for reading my very first published short story. There are more that are being edited, so please be sure to check for future material from me, Michael W. Turner.
What Goes Down Must Come Up by Michael W. Turner / Thrillers & Crime have rating 3.2 out of 5 / Based on35 votes

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Alumni Hockey Game
Fairfield Prep's annual Alumni Hockey Game invites all hockey alums to take to the ice for a friendly game at Wonderland of Ice on Feb 16, beginning at 1 p.m. (Full schedule is below).
Register for the game through the form below.
- prior to 1 p.m. - check-in and donation to Bridgeport Animal Shelter - please bring pet food, blankets, or pillows (new or used)
- 1 p.m. - Prep vs. Notre Dame of West Haven (senior day) - tickets are free for all alumni players & guests
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Arumuga Navalar Tamil Poet
Arumuga Navalar (1822-1879. He received the title 'Navalar' (learned) in 1849 from a Saiva monastery in India. His father was a Tamil poet and his mother a devout Hindu. Arumugam studied at the.
Two Tamil pundits, Arumuka Navalar and Elijah Hoole were enlisted by Percival to help with the style, while the missionary scholars took final responsibility for the version's accuracy. Under these circumstances it would be an exaggeration to claim that Navalar.
11 Thirukkural Parimel Alagar Arumuga Navalar Good by m kamalakannan Topics patinen kilkanakku , 18 minor works , tamil literature , cankam , Thirukkural , Parimel Azhagar urai , Arumuga Navalar edition , 1861 , tirukkural , kural , valluvar , tiruvalluvar
South Asian arts: South Asian arts, the literary, performing, and visual arts of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. Despite a history of ethnic, linguistic, and political fragmentation, the people of the Indian subcontinent are unified by a common cultural and ethical outlook; a.
Our language has been used mainly for expressing religious ideas and for poetry. It does not have a. It is only after Thandavaraya Mudaliar and Arumuga Navalar that prose has been recognised as a.
2016 Book Club Books The Princess and the Pony. By Kate Beaton. Winner, CBC Children's Choice Book Award, Illustrator of the Year, 2016; Short-listed, Joan Betty Stuchner Oy Vey! Dec 13, 2016. But some of the reading that I did (in actual books, on real. particular, a night- club singer, who remarks, "I could write a book about all
Commemorating the services of saint-scholar Yazhpanam Arumuga Navalar, who lived mostly in Sri Lanka, an air-conditioned auditorium built by a school in Mannivakkam was named after him. Inaugurating.
In our article The Truth About the Jaffna Bible in Hri by the Southasia Trust we show that Arumuka Navalar has been built up by Tamil Saivite extremists – Tamils' Bodu Bala Sena. The Rev. Peter Percival, a great Tamil scholar, founded the Wesleyan Mission School (later Jaffna Central College) in 1834 and held the first Chair in Vernacular Literature at Madras University.
In such social environment, Jaffna's own native Saivism revivalist of Vellalar background, Arumuga Navalar, would take the place of Periyar, not as a social reformer, but.
Awards for the best booksellers in Tamil and English will be presented to Sarvodaya Illakiya Pannai, Madurai and Landmark, Chennai, respectively. The publishers of New Century Book House, Universal.
In my Colombo days, a senior Tamil Income Tax officer, a close friend, would often speak of Arumuga Navalar and I'd listen with a blank. without making the impact he did in transforming the.
Jaffna was then pre-eminently the land of Tamil and was looked up to by the rest of the Tamil world. Besides Sabapati Navalar, there were among others, Sri la Sri Arumuga Navalar, the great Samskrita and Tamil Scholar Sankara Pandithar of Neerveli, the talented poet Sivasambu Pulavar of Udupitti, the Siddhanta Scholar Nadaraja Aiyer of Inuvil.
19th century Alwars ancient Tamil Arumuga Navalar Avvaiyar became bhaktha Bharati century A. D. chieftains Chola commentary contains culture Damodaram Pillai devotion dramatic edition epic poem essays famous genius Goddess grammar Hindu Indian Jain Jivaka Kamban Kamban's Ramayana king Kirtanai known Krishna Pillai Kumaraguruparar later lived.
Birth and Early Childhood. Arumuga Navalar was born in Nallur, the once glorious capital of Tamil Eelam, in December 1822, and passed away at the age of 56 on December 5th, 1879. His father Kandhar and mother Sivekamy were deeply religious and devout and Navalar imbibed those qualities.
Poems About The Underground Railroad Jun 1, 2017. After reading Colson's The Underground Railroad (which no doubt rightfully. " Poems were too close to prayer, rousing regrettable passions. VoiceThread Universal lets you browse threads and hear comments in pages specially designed for screen readers. Click here to go to VoiceThread Universal The Underground Railroad is a story of suffering, bravery,
C.Y.Thamotharampillai, Arumuga Navalar, Sir. Ponn. Ramanathan, Professor Kanapathippillai, etc. Even in Navaly there was a great Tamil poet "Navalyoor Somasundarappulavar", but in the poems of Jean Arasanyagam there is no reference of the scholars of Jaffna.
While Tamil Nadu knows Arumuga Navalar of Jaffna, Sabapathi Navalar, Navalar Somasundara Bharathiar and Navalar V.R. Nedunchezhian, very few are aware of the scholarship of Ramasubramania Navalar of.
In this illustrious community was born Simon Casie Chetty, the greatest Tamil scholar the Colombo Chetty community. Somewhat like Srilasri Arumuga Navalar who at a young age, tutored his Principal.
It's Like Poetry It Rhymes Apr 16, 2019 · Wow, everyone! It's April 15 already? It's hard to believe, but we're halfway through Na/GloPoWriMo. Our featured participant today is like mercury colliding, where the homophone/homonym/homograph prompt resulted in a rollicking adventure in doubled spellings, meanings and sounds.You really do have to read it out loud to make sense of it! Solar
Poems from Kurunthokai. literary movement in Tamil that has kept these works alive for more than 2000 years. From Parimel Alagar and Nachinarkiniyar who wrote commentaries 1000 years ago to.
Sreedharan finding himself in the midst of the confusion they cause, especially in historical writing in Tamil. Sabapathy Navalar. Whether the book is still in print, I have no idea, but the Roja.
Saravanan may be a post-graduate Tamil teacher at a Chennai Corporation School. greatness of Tiruvaruta and the writing of those who questioned it. Yazhpanam Arumuga Navalar and his student.
DURING A short break in Australia catching up with family, friends and former colleagues, I was also invited to catch up with a bit of Tamil literary history at a meeting held in Sydney to commemorate.
Book Search – Dr.T.P.M.Library, Madurai Kamaraj University
"Tamil scholar Arumuga Navalar from Jaffna questioned the title Thiruvarutpaa. He was furious that Vallalar's songs were gaining popularity at the expense of Saivaite literature such as Thevaram and.
Apr 23, 2018 · Polemics, a driving force in Tamil discourse. The debate over the merits of poet-saint Vallalar's Thiru Arutpa, which rapidly deteriorated into personal attacks, is a case in point. Angry as he was with the popularity enjoyed by Thiru Arutpa, Sri Lankan Tamil scholar Arumuga Navala r launched a campaign against it, terming it Marutpa.
While Tamil Nadu knows Arumuga Navalar of Jaffna, Sabapathi Navalar, Navalar Somasundara Bharathiar and Navalar V.R. Nedunchezhian, very few are aware of the scholarship of Ramasubramania Navalar of.
This article considers the production of the Tamil sermon in Christian and Saivite practices in mid-nineteenth-century Ceylon, and the fateful entailments of oratory to far larger realms of practice. I will discuss a series of Saivite sermons delivered by Arumuga Navalar (1821–79) in the late 1840s and early 1850s in terms of their antecedents in Christian sermons.
Navalar was born Arumugam Pillai in 1822 in Nallur. Arumuga Pillai's father Kandhar was a Tamil poet and he was instrumental in providing a solid foundation in Tamil literature to Arumugam Pillai. His mother's name was Sivakami and she was known for her devotion to Lord Shiva.
arumuga navalar Arumugam pillai was born on Dec 18, 1822 to L. Kanthappa pillai and Sivakami Ammal in Nallur, Jaffna (Sri Lanka). The early part of the 19th century the Tamils were deprived of their language, culture, their way of life and their religious belief.
Sri Lankan Tamils (Tamil: இலங்கை தமிழர், ilankai tamiḻar ? also Tamil: ஈழத் தமிழர், īḻat tamiḻar ?) or Ceylon Tamils, also known as Eelam Tamils in Tamil, are members of the Tamil ethnic group native to the South Asian island state of Sri Lanka.According to anthropological and archaeological evidence, Sri Lankan Tamils have a very long history.
Arumuka Navalar (Tamil: ஆறுமுக நாவலர், translit. Āṟumuka Nāvalar, lit. 'Arumuka the Orator'; 18 December 1822 – 5 December 1879) was a Sri Lankan Shaivite Tamil language scholar, polemicist, and a religious reformer who was central in reviving native Hindu Tamil traditions in Sri Lanka and India. He and others like him were responsible for reviving and reforming.
The works of Sangam literature were lost and forgotten for several centuries before they were brought to light by several Tamil scholars, such as Arumuga Navalar, S. V. Damodaram Pillai and U. V. Swaminatha Iyer. [18] [19] They painstakingly collected and catalogued numerous manuscripts in various stages of deterioration.
Dec 02, 2008 · One of the aspects of Hindu revival since Arumuga Navalar has been the restoration of a number of Hindu temples. Undoubtedly, Sri La Sri Arumuga Navalar was a scholar and author, teacher and preacher, exemplar and reformer, mighty genius and indefatigable worker, lover of.
"Arumuga Navalar believed that the Sanskrit and Tamil scriptures of Agamic Shaivism purified popular. He put difficult Saivite poems and commentaries into easily understandable prose, which would.
. when a defamation suit was filed against 'Arutperun jothi' Vallalar by a well known saivite and Tamil scholar from Jaffna, Arumuga Navalar, in the 19th century, on interpreting the title Navalar.


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Having politicians on the ground at disasters can help — but it can also hurt, experts say
There can be a lot of benefits to having politicians on the ground at emergencies like floods or wildfires, disaster mitigation experts say.
But they should be on the peripheries of the disasters, not right in the middle of them.
READ MORE: 'What you're doing is insincere' — Trudeau accused of delaying sandbagging amid Ottawa flooding
"I think it's important the prime minister or other leaders show up in these situations but where they have big security details, I don't believe they should be right in the middle of the area that's at the greatest degree of risk at that point in time," said Blair Feltmate, head of the Intact Centre on Climate Adaptation at the University of Waterloo.
"They can be on the periphery of the locality, having a presence there and serving the situation but not getting directly in the way of the recovery efforts or risk mitigation efforts."
WATCH: Eastern Canada struggles to deal with historic flooding
Eastern Canada is facing significant levels of flooding in parts of Ontario, Quebec and New Brunswick as the spring thaw melts what was left of winter.
Thousands of homes have been damaged by the rising waters, which are not expected to crest for at least another day.
Canadian Forces members have been deployed in the thousands as well to assist with evacuations and help to fill sandbags to hold off the water.
READ MORE: 5 of the worst floods in Canadian history
Over the weekend, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau joined in with his two young sons but was confronted by a volunteer who said his security detail meant no one could get close enough to pick up their sandbags and accused him of delaying the mitigation efforts.
The incident took place in Constance Bay, the west Ottawa community hit hardest in the area so far by the flooding.
The volunteer accused Trudeau of being there for a "photo op" and said he was "insincere" for holding up the work.
Feltmate said those concerns are not necessarily unfounded.
WATCH: Justin Trudeau helps fill sandbags amid flood concerns in Ottawa
"In my opinion, it's disingenuous. It's a little bit too in your face," he said.
"If I was prime minister, I would be out there, too, but … I would never be in a location where I'd be stopping progress relative to the flood that's on the ground at that moment."
Josh Bowen, who teaches emergency management at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, has been on the ground at natural disasters himself as a former member of the Canadian Forces.
He says the most important thing is for politicians to be aware of the resources and needs on the ground.
"From a policy side of things, keeping a politician informed of ongoing efforts is critical to ensuring that they understand the resource requirements and requests, and that really makes it so much easier for emergency management personnel to do what they have to do," he said.
Bowen said the primary benefits of having politicians come out to areas experiencing disasters are raising national and international awareness about the issue and also helping to draw in more donations to the organizations working to mitigate the damage.
That's true even if they cause disruptions, he said.
WATCH: Justin Trudeau tours Gatineau flood evacuation centre
"It's always good to have more people out and sometimes when you bring a large entourage, it can be a bit of a disruption but in terms of the overall impact, it is so valuable to raise awareness," Bowen added.
James Stanton, president of the emergency management consultancy Stanton Associates, was more skeptical and called the appearance by Trudeau "foolish."
"Not sure who is giving him advice, but they should shake their heads," he said.
However, he said there clearly seems to be a co-ordinated response to the flooding and that it is good to see "no one is playing the blame game."
"They are getting on with response and resolution," he said.
Floodwaters along the Ottawa River are expected to crest on Wednesday or Thursday.
The City of Ottawa has declared a state of emergency along with the City of Montreal and smaller municipalities around both cities.
© 2019 Global News, a division of Corus Entertainment Inc.


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