A voice in the wind

Rilke - On Loneliness

2011-11-21T20:19:00.001+05:30

Reading Rilke. He continues to be one of my favorite poets and everytime I read his poems, they never fail to move me. Here is a beautiful one on Loneliness.

Einsamkeit ist wie ein Regen.

Sie steigt vom Meer den Abenden entgegen;

von Ebenen, die fern sind und entlegen,

geht sie zum Himmel, der sie immer hat.

Und erst vom Himmel fällt sie auf die Stadt.

Regnet hernieder in den Zwitterstunden,

wenn sich nach Morgen wenden alle Gassen

und wenn die Leiber, welche nichts gefunden,

enttäuscht und traurig von einander lassen;

und wenn die Menschen, die einander hassen,

in einem Bett zusammen schlafen müssen:

dann geht die Einsamkeit mit den Flüssen...

---------------------+++++++++++++-----------------------

Loneliness is like rain.

It rises from the sea to meet the evening;

from the plains, which are far and remote,

it ascends to the heavens, it always has.

And it is from the heavens that it falls upon the city.

It rains down into the twilight hours,

when all alleys turn to face the coming dawn,

and when two bodies, that have found nothing,

disappointed and sad, let go of one another;

and when those who hate one another,

must sleep together in the same bed:

then - loneliness flows with the rivers...

Can there be a more vivid imagery?

Thought for the day

2011-07-22T12:06:00.001+05:30

"The secret of getting ahead is getting started. The secret of getting started is breaking your complex overwhelming tasks into small manageable tasks, and then starting on the first one."

~ Mark Twain

Thought for the day

2011-06-10T23:16:00.000+05:30

Image by J.P. Ferreira used under a Creative Commons License (CC BY 2.0)

You cannot avoid the journey by refusing to look at the map...

Revelation - A Poem

2011-02-09T12:04:00.001+05:30

Re-discovered this one from my Notes page on FB. Written a long time ago...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What does she tell you, the sea,
as you tread the sands quietly
lost in thought?

What are you thinking of?

Are those tomorrow's dreams, gently
lapping the shores of your heart? Or,
are they memories of some yesteryear,
rising, Kraken-like, from the depths,
threatening to drag you down?

And the sea? What does she
whisper in your ear?

Does she speak to you of her vastness,
her soul, the great calm of her depths
that sustains and cherishes life, even as
her surface is ravaged by a deadly storm?

Listen to her ageless wisdom;
For she reveals to you the mysteries of
the never-ending ebb and flow of life.

And in listening, know this -
that unless a ship leaves the safety
of its charted course,
it can never discover a new world...

~©Aparna Ray
24/11/08

Fish tales from the South

2011-02-08T01:01:00.001+05:30

Came across this lovely poem some time back

வழி தவறிய மீன்கள்
சந்தித்துக் கொண்டன
மணல்வெளியில்
இரண்டிடமும் கடல்
பற்றிய கதையிருந்தது
கடல் இல்லை

- இலக்குவண்
--------***------------------

Translated, it reads as follows

Two lost fish

met on the forlorn sandy plains

had stories of the ocean

of the ocean?

no trace.

-----****---------

Helicopter Parenting: Is It Your Story?

2011-01-30T15:17:00.001+05:30

Shannon Golden at The Society Pages talks about "Helicopter Parenting" - the constantly hovering style of super-involved middle class parents.

Thought for the day

2011-01-29T15:46:00.000+05:30

Other people's opinion of you does not have to become your reality.
~Les Brown

Thought for the day

2011-01-25T21:37:00.000+05:30

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thought for the day

2011-01-07T11:39:00.000+05:30

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.
~ Ivy Baker Priest

Image courtesy ah zut, used under CC By-NC-ND 2.0

2011 and a New Avatar

2011-01-04T17:13:00.005+05:30

It has been 3 years since I shut down this blog, but I missed having a space to pen my thoughts, my moments of flash inspiration on various subjects. Some of my readers too refused to forget this blog and finally, this year, both came together to create a tipping point that managed to bulldoze through my gradually weakening resistance - thus a voice in the wind is reborn today.

In its new avatar, this blog will capture my take on things that touch me in my day-to-day life, things that make me pause and reflect.

Come, let's continue this journey together.

Happy New Year and a fond farewell

2007-01-09T11:58:00.000+05:30

First of all let me wish everyone a very Happy New Year. Hope your 2007 has started with as much fun and feverish activity as mine has!

With New Year also comes a time for new resolutions (forget the fact that the old ones may not have yet been fulfilled) and this year I have decided to focus my blogging energy on

Newsmericks
Regional language blogging

So where does that leave this blog, my first, which brought me into the world of blogging? This blog was meant to be a storehouse of my thoughts and feelings about all that I saw, read and much more. However, somewhere down the road, it became a place where I stored some of my hap-hazard poetry and then that too dwindled away into nothingness.

I think it is a time for a voice in the wind to say goodbye. Thank you all who stopped by here. Will let you know if I decide to return in a different avatar. Till then, see you at Newsmericks!

Thought for the day

2006-11-15T18:29:00.000+05:30

Some have been thought brave because they were afraid to run away.

~ Thomas Fuller

Everybody needs a hug sometime...

2006-10-26T19:04:00.000+05:30

Juan Mann - Hugs

The warmth of a hug
Can light up the darkest day
So share one for free...

A matter of perspective

2006-10-18T19:14:00.000+05:30

Walking along the banks of the Seine one evening, I came across this sketch by a street artist. Not quite Escher and perhaps trifle naughty but interesting enough to share.

Wonder what Freud would have had to say about this portrait? :D

Paris, Pujas & Poe

2006-10-07T13:23:00.000+05:30

The world lay asleep
But somewhere in the darkness
A tower shimmered...

So much to write about yet the thoughts refuse to flow. Had a lovely vacation in Paris, followed by another at Darjeeling. Then came the Puja festivities in Kolkata which have not quite died down yet.

No, the picture above is not a puja pandal in Kolkata. It is the real thing (though I won't be surprised to see it being replicated as a puja pandal sometime in the near future!). Here are some photos I took during the pujas...enjoy!

Re-reading Edgar Allen Poe's short stories. Here is one of my all-time favorites.

Will be back soon!

Thought for the day

2006-08-24T11:16:00.000+05:30

"Any life is made up of a single moment, the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is." – Jorge Luis Borges

The rains

2006-07-22T17:33:00.000+05:30

Monsoon showers,
No power for hours,
A city bogged,
Waterlogged...

And yet I love the rains :-)

Happiness formula

2006-07-17T22:00:00.000+05:30

Want to be happy?
Here's my simple formula -
Count every blessing!

:D

An evening with Rumi

2006-07-16T00:50:00.000+05:30

Spent a lazy evening yesterday, reading Rumi. Thought I would share some of my favourite pieces with you.

~0~

You've no idea how hard I've looked for a gift to bring You.

Nothing seemed right.

What's the point of bringing gold to the gold mine, or water to the Ocean.

Everything I came up with was like taking spices to the Orient.

It's no good giving my heart and my soul because you already have these.

So- I've brought you a mirror.

Look at yourself and remember me.

~0~

I wonder

from these thousand of "me's",

which one am I?

Listen to my cry, do not drown my voice

I am completely filled with the thought of you.

Don't lay broken glass on my path

I will crush it into dust.

I am nothing, just a mirror in the palm of your hand,

reflecting your kindness, your sadness, your anger.

If you were a blade of grass or a tiny flower

I will pitch my tent in your shadow.

Only your presence revives my withered heart.

You are the candle that lights the whole world

and I am an empty vessel for your light.

~0~

Inside the Great Mystery that is,

we don't really own anything.

What is this competition we feel then,

before we go, one at a time, through the same gate?

~0~

For years, copying other people,

I tried to know myself.

From within, I couldn't decide what to do.

Unable to see, I heard my name being called.

Then I walked outside.

~0~

Haiku heights!

2006-07-15T15:37:00.000+05:30

What do you say when
A man strips on Everest?
-Height of exposure!

:D

Conversations

2006-06-14T18:08:00.000+05:30

(pic taken from Quantumblog)

Lips watch in silence

As our thumbs chatter non-stop

Via SMS

**DNA Salon 09/06/06

Net Result

2006-06-03T10:49:00.000+05:30

Ended this morning

Hours of search for a soul mate:

A Google success.

:-))

**Published in DNA Salon 02/06/06

Virtual connect

2006-05-20T12:21:00.000+05:30

We meet every day,
In a world without borders.
Webcams are dandy.

**Published in DNA Salon

The nature of love

2006-05-19T20:39:00.000+05:30

A pair of young lovers
Lay under a tree.
On the tree bloomed a flower,
Near it, buzzed a bee.

Heady scent of the flower
Drove the bee wild,
The man pulled her closer-
She sensually smiled.

Hormones were raging
The air filled with tension
And above them the bee
Hung in suspension

The flower starts to sway,
But the bee has it pinned,
The couple embrace tight,
Throwing caution to the wind.

His clothes and hers
Carelessly thrown;
The flower gets ready
To welcome the drone.

The bee rides the flower,
There is music and stuff,
But viewers are now furious -
They are sick of the fluff.

The director chap's helpless
For there is a stricture,
He can only use Nature
To cue sex in the picture!

:D

Written for the 'Comic Erotica' writing exercise on S&C

Hues of Life

2006-05-08T22:28:00.000+05:30

If the colors in our lives
Lacked intricate weave -
Were individually seen,
Then there’d be a yellow
Alongside a blue, but
How would we get the green?

There must be a reason
Why God has made
Life such a kaleidoscope;
Could it be to convey -
'There’s good with the bad',
So that there springs eternal hope?

Safekeeping

2006-04-28T16:38:00.000+05:30

(image courtesy angelfire)

My heart disc is clean.
Auto- protection enabled,
No virus attacks.

**Published in DNA Salon

Shattered

2006-04-26T11:46:00.001+05:30

(image courtesy Vicky Culver)

Her words, gently spoken,
With their ruthlessness shattered
His world into pieces....

... can words put him together again?

Forgotten

2006-04-26T11:18:00.001+05:30

Neglected for years,
Volumes of words lie silenced
In my dust lade heart.

...is this how words are forgotten?

I stand corrected

2006-04-26T10:39:00.000+05:30

IndianArchie has expressed a very valid grouse by pointing out to me that I have begun posting limericks on both my blogs.

I agree that it does not make much sense to run two blogs for the same style of writing. Thus the last 2 posts have been moved from here to Newsmericks.

Henceforth all limericks will be posted there. This blog will be reserved for all other kinds of posts (as originally intended).

On not writing

2006-03-15T17:06:00.000+05:30

Yesterday in the morning I said to myself,
"Today I am going to write"
But somehow the day simply floated away,
Leaving me feeling contrite.

Late in the evening, as I sat with my drink,
A voice in the wind I heard.
“Can you explain why no new posts are up?
“What’s the matter?” chirped the bird.

Many hours (of introspection) later,
I remarked with quiet woe,
“I think I have a writer’s block,
My thoughts are refusing to flow!”

However, the voice concluded,
That wasn't a good enough excuse.
It left me feeling embarrassed,
So desperately I turned to my muse.

“Maybe you are trying too hard," he said,
"Just let your thoughts run free.
You’ll soon see how a seed of thought,
Will grow into a giant tree.”

So here I am with my paper and pen,
Waiting for that thought to bloom,
Meanwhile, let me assure you folks,
The posts here will soon resume!

On SMS literature

2006-02-13T23:17:00.000+05:30

An SMS poet was found telling
Readers why his poetry is selling
Smiling (with a dimple)
He said, “It is simple,
Who the hell today knows the real spelling?”

What are your views on SMS poetry that is fast becoming popular today? And then of course there is the promise of the classics being condensed to SMS form. Do share your views on the same.

On destiny

2006-02-09T20:07:00.000+05:30

Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must persevere and above all have confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted with something, and that this thing, at whatever cost, must be attained.

~Marie Curie

Beyond fears

2006-01-23T19:18:00.003+05:30

Today, I spent some lovely hours in the afternoon reading Rilke, one of my favourite writers. Thought I'd share a passage from 'Letters to a Young Poet' (letter 8), which talks about the need to look beyond our fears and experience life in its fullness.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The fear of the inexplicable has not only impoverished the reality of the individual; it has also narrowed the relationship between one human being and another, which has as it were been lifted out of the riverbed of infinite possibilities and set down in a fallow place on the bank, where nothing happens. For it is not only indolence that causes human relationships to be repeated from case to case with such unspeakable monotony and boredom; it is timidity before any new, inconceivable experience, which we don't think we can deal with.

Only someone who is ready for everything, who doesn't exclude any experience, even the most incomprehensible, will live the relationship with another person as something alive and will himself sound the depths of his own being. For if we imagine this being of the individual as a larger or smaller room, it is obvious that most people come to know only one corner of their room, one spot near the window, one narrow strip on which they keep walking back and forth. In this way they have a certain security. And yet how much more human is the dangerous insecurity that drives those prisoners in Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their cells.

We, however, are not prisoners. No traps or snares have been set around us, and there is nothing that should frighten or upset us. We have been put into life as into the element we most accord with, and we have, moreover, through thousands of years of adaptation, come to resemble this life so greatly that when we hold still, through a fortunate mimicry we can hardly be differentiated from everything around us. We have no reason to harbor any mistrust against our world, for it is not against us. If it has terrors, they are our terrors; if it has abysses, these abysses belong to us; if there are dangers, we must try to love them. And if only we arrange our life in accordance with the principle which tells us that we must always trust in the difficult, then what now appears to us as the most alien will become our most intimate and trusted experience.

How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

-------------------------------------------------

Hello 2006!

2005-12-31T23:54:00.000+05:30

Wishing all of you a very Happy New year!

Cheers
Aparna

A morning ritual

2005-12-30T02:44:00.000+05:30

“What took you so long?” She asked
With an impatient toss of her head
He knew it would be death to answer
So he stared at his fingers instead

He had just finished reading
Of a romantic ride across time
So his mood was really mellow,
Heart full of emotions sublime

He had been so preoccupied
With thoughts of the unheard call
That urgency of the voice nearby
He had not heeded at all

Now of course it was clear
There would be hell to pay
He was sure of it because
It happened every other day

He tried hard to focus
To lend her his ear
And then finally her voice
Broke out in the clear

“Everyday it’s the same story, so
If this is what you’ll continue to do
I’m moving in with my parents
Unless you build another loo!”

:-))

Reflection

2005-12-30T00:34:00.002+05:30

(picture courtesy Lady of the willows)

And when I let go
The mirror cracked side to side

Myriad faces seen

...I wonder, which one is me?

Building walls

2005-12-29T15:21:00.000+05:30

(Image courtesy www.crowcanyon.org)

“I have nothing more to say to you. Words fail me,” she said and stomped off ending the argument. Silence reigned. Not the warm glowing silence that envelopes two people who are so comfortable with each other that they can live companionably without filling every nook and cranny with their voice. No, this was a cold dark frosty silence. For a while it creaked with the tension and bitterness of the unspoken verbal duel and then with time lapsed into more or less a total disconnect between the two people concerned.

Yes, I do believe silence comes in different forms, one of which is our inability to reach out and connect with another human being. Is it a failure of words or is it simply borne out of some fear deep within?

“Why don’t you just tell him what you feel, rather than keeping quiet about it?” I asked a friend, who was living through a strained relationship in stoic silence. “Things will only get worse then. Atleast this prevents ugliness.” I asked her why she assumed that things would get ugly if she spoke her mind, just what she felt. “Oh well, we never can stick to just sharing our feelings, we end up blaming each other and it leads to terrible fights. I am so tired of these fights that I prefer it this way. It atleast has the pretence of being peaceful. Stifling is better than aggression. Anyway I have no choice. The alternative is much more terrifying. ”

This silence results from our fear. Fear of the consequences we imagine will arise on expressing what we really think and feel. Most often it is the fear of losing something, be it an argument or a person we love. Or it could even be the fear of discovery – the discovery that we are not what we, till now, had projected/believed ourselves to be. But at the core, it is often our fear of being rejected, ridiculed, a loss of power and/or a fear of failure.

In Bergman’s ‘Silence’ we are treated to this desperate need to communicate and the underlying fear. The young boy Johan entertains his aunt Ester with a puppet who speaks a funny tongue. When questioned why he speaks funny, Johan replies, “Because he is afraid.” This theme of fear is continued in ‘Persona’, where Elizabeth, an actress is suddenly left in a speechless limbo as language fails her altogether.

A friend and I never seemed to agree on our views on Freud. We argued for a few days and then one day I said, “let Freud be a taboo topic between us.” And so it was. Then one day, while talking about something else, he said, “just like we do not discuss Freud, we will not discuss this.” I realized something very important that day. This is how walls are built. Soon there will be many issues ‘not to be discussed’. We will not be able to share freely for there will be censor at work, trying to skirt politely around various issues. Conversations will be more like trying to walk safely through a minefield, dreading that at any moment we may step on and trigger a mine of argument. And who knows, finally, if we get tired of being on guard all the time, the wall will become insurmountable? Will there be silence then?

When we cannot communicate freely, when we do not find the right words to reach out and touch one another, is it the beginning of the end? Does fear get to win in the end? I would like to believe otherwise; that we have the grace to live life with courage. For after all, as someone rightly said, courage is not the absence of fear. It is plodding through our fears with the realization that something else is more important.

The next time we chat, I will tell my friend that we can discuss Freud as well - and will not be afraid of a good argument.

It's only words

2005-12-29T10:19:00.001+05:30

Words! Words! Words! I'm so sick of words!

Never do I ever want to hear another word.

There isn't one I haven't heard.

~Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady

The Bible proclaimed, “In the beginning was the Word.” Since then, many words have been spoken. Words are the tools with which we express our thoughts and emotions, our means to communicate with one another. However, as Voltaire pointed out, many a time they also act as an effective mask behind which we hide ourselves.

I sometimes wonder at the words we use in our daily lives, those that allow us to sound intelligent and be vague at the same time, once the hallmark of a bureaucrat. They always remind me of the speeches made by the pragmatic and wily Sir Humphrey and the bewildered expression of Jim Hacker in the ‘Yes Minister’ series.

Why do we sometimes hide behind our words? Why are we unable to communicate even if we have a whole host of words to string? Does the thought of opening up and revealing our inner selves to another person scare us to such a point?

In his book ‘Images – My life in film’, Ingmar Bergman talks about this mask rather eloquently while describing his relationship with Kabi Larete. He says:

Between the two of us, we had developed a complicated staged relationship. We were confused and at the same time exceptionally fond of each other…we spoke about everything and anything that occurred to us. But in reality we had no common language. We couldn’t communicate.

The more Kabi and I watched the erosion of the collaboration into which we put so much effort, the more we tried to improve it with verbal cosmetics.

Sometime ago, I watched Bergman’s ‘Autumn Sonata’, where he had made use of this personal realization.

In the film, Victor, while conversing with his wife Eva, says to her “I nurture some unrealistic dreams and expectations, and some kind of longing too for that matter. I long for you.” To which Eva replies, “Those are beautiful words, aren’t they? I mean they are words that don’t mean anything real. I was raised on beautiful words. The word ‘pain’ for instance. Mother was never mad or disappointed or unhappy; she ‘felt pain’. You too have a lot of words like that.”

Maybe someday we will feel safe enough to connect with one another without creating a barrier of words? I sincerely hope so…

The sound of silence

2005-12-27T13:23:00.001+05:30

******************

"Experience teaches us that silence terrifies people the most."

Bob Dylan

******************

He enters the classroom, sits down, doesn't say anything. he looks at us, we look at him. At first there are a few giggles, but Morrie only shrugs, and eventually a deep silence falls and we begin to notice the smallest sounds, the radiator humming in the corner of the room, the nasal breathing of one of the fat students.

Some of us are agitated. When is he going to say something? We squirm, check our watches. A few students look out of the window, trying to be above it all. This goes on a good fifteen minutes, before Morrie finally breaks in with a whisper.

"What's happening here?" he asks. And slowly a discussion begins - as Morrie has wanted all along - about the effect of silence on human relations. Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise? (An extract from 'tuesdays with Morrie' by Mitch Albom)

I put down the book. How true it was! We were so often embarrassed by a lull of silence in our conversations. Just think of a social evening. At some point the buzz of conversation dies down and there is silence in the air. How uncomfortably it seems to hang - and most people squirm, trying to quickly think up a topic or a joke to break "the ice" so to speak. Then someone plunges in, and there is a mild sigh of relief all around. The evening goes on.

And what about one-on-one interactions? Oh that's even more tough! A friend returned from a date completely flustered. "How did it go?" I asked. "Oh he maybe a wonderful guy but he is too quiet, it was quite tiring really," she replied. Then she went on to explain. The man in question was wonderful to talk to (when he did talk, that is). But during their chats, there were some moments of silence. He was quite ok with that, quietly drinking his coffee but unfortunately my friend was not. So everytime such a moment came to pass, she jumped right in filling the silence with small talk - anything from telling him about her childhood, her friends, some funny incident at home - anything at all. To all of that he quietly smiled and let her go on. The result was that by the end of the evening, she had done almost all the talking and was tired. Furthermore, while she had told the man much more than probably he wanted to know about her on their first date, she did not get to know him at all! When I pointed this out to her, she wailed "but how could I get to know him - he was so silent and uncommunicative! I was afraid he was getting bored"

Was it really so? I wondered. I asked another talkative friend of mine - successfully married to a man who comes across as rather serious and quiet when you first meet him. "Well I really wanted to get to know him when we first met," she replied. "So I used to keep quiet and just throw in some questions now and then. I turned a listener!" But what about silences? "Ah well," she said rather philosophically, "I assumed that the silence was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me so if it came to that, he would say something to break it!" What if he was getting bored? "Not my problem. It could be interpreted both ways really. If I was worried that the silence meant I was boring him, he might be thinking the same thing!" Hmm a battle of wills...

As part of our training in Qualitative Research we are taught how to handle silence which may crop up during interviews and group discussions. It is extremely common for a moderator to get all jumpy and anxious if the group lapses into a period of silence. The moderator feels a loss of control and in order to do away with the silence and get the group going again often jumps in with the next question or topic. However in doing so, often vital information remains undiscovered. This is where the training teaches us to react differently.

A good moderator lets the silence hang in the air for a while because the silence could be important data as well. It could mean any of the various things: a)that the respondents are mulling over the issue at hand and need some time to respond b) they have nothing more to say on the matter c) they are bored d) they disagree with some issue but have not bonded well enough to feel free to express their disagreement, so on and so forth. So after letting the silence be, in case no response comes up, the moderator may then throw in some probes to try and understand the nature of the silence before moving on. Also, as is often the case, the respondents are also uncomfortable with silence and one of them is likely to break it and therefore take the discussion forward. So the training allows the moderator to be aware of her anxiety, harness her need to control and let the group process flow more naturally.

But what of the times when we are on our own and are terrified by silence? In such times, silence points out to us our loneliness. Often the TV is a handy escape in such instances. A friend's elderly mother keeps the TV on night and day in her empty house. She says it is her companion. She even sleeps with the TV switched on as it makes her feel there are other people people in the house talking and she is not alone. Asked what would happen if the TV was not there, she replied that then she would be scared of her loneliness as well as the anxious thoughts that would then fill her mind.

So there it is - our silences are often more deafening than our chatter. And we rush to fill it in with words - words that often mean nothing really.

A time to share

2005-12-26T14:28:00.000+05:30

This blog has been neglected for sometime, a friend of mine pointed out a few days ago. What better time to take care of that than in this season of sharing. Hope to chat and share my thoughts more regularly from now on.

Over the next few days will pen down some of my thoughts on communication. A good place to start is of course with the words of my favourite poet:

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

~Robert Frost

photograph by Amit

In search of God

2005-11-26T19:44:00.001+05:30

The other day while browsing through a bookshop, I came across this book - ‘Shortcuts to God’ by Gerard G. Jampolsky, M.D. The book had an interesting cover, rather tongue-in-cheek.

It touched upon a memory.

“Why are many of the holy sites so inaccessible?” as a child I had once grumbled, disconcerted at having to trudge a long way up to the Vaishno Devi temple. “It is because the saints wanted to be left undisturbed in their quest for God. So they settled far away from the crowded, noisy cities. Also, we sometimes have to go through a little bit of pain to reach something good,” my mother had replied. A few years later, the Vayudoot (flight) service was started so that people, who did not wish to walk the walk, could conveniently visit the pilgrimage site. It was a shortcut.

Today we seek painless, shortcut solutions to everything in life – be it a daily chore, a relationship, a pilgrimage or even a quest for self-improvement. But do we really need a shortcut in our attempt to reach and touch the Divine? Is God really so far away from you and me? In this context a beautiful saying from Rilke comes to mind.

"When I saw others straining towards God I did not understand it, for though I may have had him less than they did, there was none blocking the way between him and me and I could reach his heart easily. It is upto him after all to have us; our part consists almost solely in letting him grasp us."

Maybe there are times when shortcuts are not required, simply because the actual path is not a difficult one at all. Maybe if we just open a window, the light can enter...and that will be enough.

When the heart is kind

2005-11-22T21:38:00.001+05:30

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. Pearl S. Buck
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days ago, I watched a lovely film Todo Sobre Mi Madre (All About My Mother) by the Spanish Director Almodovar. In it, one of the characters - Huma Roja (a theatre actress, played by Marisa Paredes), utters the famous line originally attributed to Tennessee Williams.

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

The line stayed with me long after the movie ended. It brought back countless small acts of kindness that I had received over the years from people over whom I had absolutely no claim. They were people I met on the roads, who, after having helped me, moved on without expecting any returns. This is my tribute to all of them, whoever they may be.

I
It was a grey morning when I decided to cross over to Laos from the Chiang Khong border in Northern Thailand. The plan was to take a speedboat from Houei Xai right upto Luang Prabhang. The ferry point at Houei Xai was a makeshift one. It lacked proper steps leading down to the boat station. It was a path that perhaps had been created over time simply by people walking down. I had only one bag on me, and till then I had not had any trouble carrying my own luggage.

But that morning was different. The downward slope was slippery. Try as I might, I simply was not able to walk down to the boat station with my bag in hand. I fell behind the other passengers also heading for the speedboat. Suddenly there was someone by my side. It was a young man with a pleasant face. He was wearing jeans, T-shirt and carrying a heavy backpack. “Need any help?” he asked.

I felt embarrassed to add to his load so refused politely and he moved on. Nimble-footed, he reached the station quickly and then looked up and saw me struggling, trying to steady myself each time I slipped. Suddenly, he was beside me again. “Just let go” he said, grabbing my bag and before I knew it he was back at the station, a big grin on his face. I followed sheepishly. Without the bag, I was more sure-footed but kept my eyes on the ground to prevent myself from falling flat in the mud.

“I must thank him profusely” I thought to myself. “Also next time I will wear better shoes!” Reaching the station, I picked up my bag. The first boat had left. The young man was nowhere in sight.
**

II
The party at my friend’s place went on till about 11.30pm. It was raining outside but I found a cab and soon was on my way home. Or so I thought. About five minutes down the road, the cab driver said there was some problem in the engine, dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and sped away.

It was a marketplace but all the shops had closed. Overcrowded in the daytime, the place was dark and empty by night. A few rickshaws were lined on one side of the road sans the pullers. The rain had petered to a drizzle but there was not a cab in sight.

I did not notice him at first. He seemed to appear out of the darkness and lit a bidi (a local variant of the cigarette). The flame startled me and I looked around. His clothes were tattered and he had a torn gamchha (a thin towel) flung over his shoulders. He just stood there at a distance, smoking in silence.

Honestly, he gave me the creeps at first. All those warnings about dangers of standing alone on a dark road flashed through some corner of my mind. I watched him carefully, praying fervently that a cab come by to the rescue.

“Where do you want to go?” I almost jumped out of my skin. “Where do you want to go, didi (sister)?” he repeated the question. And suddenly, I was not afraid anymore. I told him I was waiting for a cab so that I could go home.

“I don’t think you will get a cab here now. Why don’t you take a rickshaw and go to the main road? There you will get cabs or you could even take a bus.” I looked longingly at the empty rickshaws on the other side of the road.

“Wait here” and he was gone. After a while (which seemed like an eternity) he was back with a rickshaw puller. “Take didi to the main road. It is not safe for her to be standing alone on this dark road.” I climbed onto the rickshaw and then turned around to thank the man for his kindness. But he had already gone. I asked the rickshaw puller if he knew the man and he replied in the negative.
**

Two different incidents, both acts of kindness by complete strangers. And believe me there are many more. Acts I will never forget. Without being asked, each offered their help at moments when I really needed it, and did not wait to be thanked once the moment had passed. Each gave through their intuitive understanding of my need for help. Maybe that was what was so special about their giving, their kindness and caring. It was simply in their nature to be kind.

I wish we could all be like that.

The world today

2005-10-28T00:21:00.000+05:30

Earth, wind, rain and fire
Seem to have gone haywire
But when they are silent
Man himself is violent
I wonder if this is the world to desire?

What do you feel? Do share your thoughts...

Communication

2005-09-26T02:00:00.000+05:30

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world not possibly born until they arrive and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born"

~Anais Nin

Photo by Amitabha Das

Confessions of a wanderer

2005-09-17T19:37:00.000+05:30

My restless, wandering spirit
Takes the greatest pleasure
Sweeping across faraway places
Searching for elusive treasure

Each new land I visit
Welcomes with open arms
Shares with me its secrets
Enchants with its charms

Stay on; settle down; people plead
Why this need to roam?
How to explain to these gentle souls
That it’s the road I call my home?

Hopes, dreams, love, joy, tears, desires
These ties conspire to bind
My soul seeks, in an onward quest
To break free, to unwind

At times want to take as souvenirs
The things that give delight
But I let them go with a gentle sigh
You see I’m traveling light

Yet some things become a part of me
Moments lived, memories
My ports of restful shelter
When I sail turbulent seas

What treasure do I then seek?
What is it that worlds encrust?
Where a single path can well suffice
What fuels this wanderlust?

I think it’s simply the journey
That sends me on my way
And some of life’s best-kept secrets
Unravel along the way

The heady heights of freedom
The depths of solitude
Can someone, not a wanderer
Know its magnitude?

So seek new roads, oh wanderer
Lest one day you awaken
Burdened with a heavy heart
For all those roads not taken...

(Inspired by Avi's post Wanderer's muse on S&C, Ryze)

*Photograph by Amitabha Das

The struggle within

2005-09-10T11:33:00.000+05:30

It was the eve of her birthday
The party had just begun
Her friends were all around her
The air was soaked with fun

When blowing out the candles
(There were just twenty-five)
The room full of song and laughter
Made her feel so alive!

Today the voice inside her head
She was determined to ignore
So clapping her hands to the music
She twirled on to the dance floor

Hungrily she savored the moments
Drinking deeply from the cup
And again she briefly wondered
Why one would want to give up

But then the demons grew stronger
They had for the past two years
No, no one yet knew about them
She had not shared her fears

And so the voice kept calling
From dark recesses of her mind
Teasing her to step off the edge
Severing all ties that bind

The world thought she was quiet
But her world was full of noise
As endless doubt, desire to live
Battled the raging voice

Oh this pull-push was too painful
She wished that it would end
She told herself, a dreamless sleep
For sure her soul would mend

So when the party was over
She kissed her friends goodnight
And when the last of her pals had left,
Turned on the bedroom light

Then lying quiet on her king-sized bed
With a prayer to disencumber
She took a handful of sleeping pills
And drifted off to slumber...

Moving on

2005-09-04T10:06:00.002+05:30

My dear Jane,

I've moved two houses down the lane
Where your once best friend pays heed
To my every possible need.

Now that we have parted
Let me tell you how it started.
You were busy with your job at Wal-Mart
When Rosie wormed her way into my heart.

In the evenings she often dropped by
Bringing me my favourite, apple pie
One thing then led to another
Soon, I was going to be a father!

She told me then I had to choose
And I saw I had not much to lose.
Jane, I don't mean to sound rude
But you were always way too prude

At times you behaved like a nun
Now my Rosie, she's a lot more fun!
In cooking she is as good as mum
She does not grudge my daily rum

No wars over the toilet seat
No nagging if I'm not all neat
No pestering me to mow the lawn
To walk the dog at crack of dawn

The best is that she does not shout
If I forget to take the garbage out
You know Jane, now it seems
Rosie's the girl of my dreams

She is the light of my life
So it's goodbye dear wife.
Do hope you will soon encounter
True love at the Wal-Mart counter

And if it's not too much of a bother
Will you please be our child's Godmother?

Do reply without fail
Send your reply by mail

I remain (a husband, now gone)
Yours faithfully,
John

(initially posted on S&C, Ryze as part of a 'Dear John' letter writing exercise)

On companionship

2005-09-02T11:05:00.001+05:30

"All companionship can consist only in the strengthening of two neighboring solitudes, whereas everything that one is wont to call giving oneself is by nature harmful to companionship: for when a person abandons himself, he is no longer anything, and when two people both give themselves up in order to come close to eachother, there is no longer any ground beneath them and their being together is a continual falling."

~Rilke

(Photograph by Amitabha Das)

Eventide

2005-08-26T19:21:00.000+05:30

[photo courtesy (c)FreeFoto.com]

Slowly dusk descends
Trees whisper in utter awe
God sets sky on fire

In capturing a moment

2005-08-05T15:22:00.000+05:30

He waited, his eye glued to the lens, for that elusive moment which he wanted to capture for a lifetime. Losing track of time, forgetting everything else around him.

As I watched his eager anticipation, his concentrated efforts, I looked around and saw life passing by. Many moments flitted past, each pregnant with rich possibilities but he was interested in only that one defining slice of time.

Is this sometimes how we lose precious moments in our ardent zeal to capture one among the myriad? As we stand guard waiting for that one inspiration to strike our soul, many moments touch us and left unattended, fade away with a gentle sorrow.

Battle-weary

2005-07-18T00:45:00.000+05:30

They coexist,
the elderly couple,
having travelled
a long road together.
Many years of conflict,
contemptuous conversation,
have tired and spent them both.

Now, everyday,
they sit side by side
and watch soaps on TV
in companionable silence.

Eve shocks Vodafone!

2005-07-16T12:43:00.000+05:30

Vodafone's new study on 'women and mobile phones' has raised many eyebrows and not without reason. The online survey was conducted among 1,044 female mobile phone users, aged between 14 and 49yrs, to understand various aspects of mobile phone purchasing and usage.

The key finding from the study: 'overall, women are informed mobile phone users who know what they want'. It appears that Vodafone had different hypotheses (blatantly stereotypical) about their female customers, as some of their questions indicate (Ex: Do their phones have to be pink?). Furthermore, the report expresses surprise that women appreciate and confidently use new technologies, can make up their own minds when deciding which model to purchase and are comfortable with 'technical' functions!

What surprises me in all this is that in this day and age, Vodafone was carrying such stereotypical notions about women in the first place and required a survey to 'remove the clichés'! Nevertheless am glad that now we are free from the burden of appearing non-feminine without our pink phones and hope that GfK market research institute had a handsome billing!

Link via Boing Boing

What if...

2005-07-12T18:23:00.000+05:30

A young man pays an agent six lakh rupees
To get him that lucrative job overseas
To reach his dreams he makes no bones
In selling off all that his family owns

One year later there’s still no job in sight
The agent of course has taken flight
All that remains are dreams laid bare
And a family, which is in utter despair

I’ve often wondered why men fall prey
Trusting blindly in what these agents say
Parting with everything they have in hand
For an unknown future in a faraway land

What if instead of this distant lure
There was some way to reassure
These young men that there’s no need to roam
Dreams can come true even close to home?

Would it save them getting caught like flies
In these rosy webs spun by an agent’s lies
And if the youth are no longer pawn
Can peddling false dreams remain a flourishing con?

I wonder…

PS: every year many a youth from India get fleeced by recruitment agents with the promise of landing a brilliant job in countries like Dubai, Malaysia,Italy, Canada and the like. A current report today on TV had me wondering...what if?

What do you feel about it? Let me know...

Back to blogs and blogging

2005-07-12T18:18:00.000+05:30

Hi friends,

Am back to blogs and blogging! Decided not to move my blog as of now, so will be available on Blogger itself. Keep watching this space for more...

Cheers
Aparna

Taking a break

2005-05-05T17:49:00.000+05:30

Dear friends,

Am off blogging for a short while. Busy with housecleaning of sorts :-)

Hope to be back regularly from next month onwards. Looking at re-structuring the blog so that i can include sub-categories and thus have a more streamlined blog.

Take care everybody and see you soon!

Cheers
Aparna

A look at the royal re-marriage

2005-04-09T04:36:00.000+05:30

A 35year affair takes the curtain call
As Charles marries Camilla defying all
At the wedding it seems both will bewail
Their sins that led past marriages to fail!

The bishop will then ask Charles if from now
He will truly be faithful to his wedding vow
I wonder why the bishop still has fears
Over a love that's lasted 35 long years?

It appears the common people have said
It is okay for Camilla and Charles to wed
But we surely do not want to see her as Queen
Name her duchess,consort,or something between!

The Queen herself is fed up of course
Three of her four kids have had a divorce
The tabloids as always are minting pounds
As they ensure royal gossips do the rounds

People are saying Diana would have enjoyed
Reading what all’s pouring out in the tabloid

However...

Maybe the time has now come at last
to let the two be and forget the past?

Celebrity angst

2005-04-05T23:05:00.000+05:30

In trying to respond to people’s woes
Vivek Oberoi has stepped on the toes
Of Jayalalitha the Tamil Nadu chief
on the question of his tsunami relief.

She said, "I’m working day and night
and this chap hogs the media limelight
I pray you tell me, is this a fair story?
And when will I get my share of glory?"

Remembering pope John Paul II

2005-04-05T01:57:00.000+05:30

I saw him for the first time in Calcutta in 1986. Then a high school student, I remember how we thronged the street outside our school and excitedly waved as pope John Paul II passed by in his 'popemobile'. For us, his glass-cased vehicle was no less an article of awe and discussion.

Then the years flew by and in 2003 I had the good fortune of seeing him again. Standing in St. Peter's square in the Vatican on that November morning, I listened to the pope giving his blessings from the window high above as all around me the faithful catholics craned to get a closer view of the spiritual leader. Though not a catholic, I remember feeling equally reverential in his presence.

I know how I am going to remember him. For me he will always be the person who gave Mother Teresa of Calcutta her rightful place with the saints.

Some everyday woes

2005-03-31T11:46:00.000+05:30

I’m sure you'll agree it isn't fun
waking up daily with the rising sun
but oh the other everyday woes
that a person like me undergoes!

After waking I step on my weighing scale
and sure enough let out a horrible wail
after which i nearly begin to weep
why can't some weight be lost in sleep?

I summon strength, run a hot shower
emerging with effort after an hour
post which I am left tearing my hair
trying to decide what clothes to wear!

Finally when am ready, I reach my car
have to look for my key both near and far
When I find them and switch the engine on
it seems that the battery is almost gone.

Somehow I make it to the office gate
but by then I am already late
try to log onto the server but fail
account's overflowing with Spam mail!

The evening however should be great
I have an appointment with a hot date
keeping count as the minutes drag by
when can I leave, I think with a sigh.

Guess what - just as I am about to leave
Call from a new client I do receive
"an urgent meeting - please drop by
brand sales are down, we don’t know why!"

The meeting ends late after midnight
my hot date by then is sleeping tight
there’s nothing for dinner everything’s shut
I seriously feel like kicking my butt.

Tired enough to just drop dead
angry and hungry I go to bed
so imagine my state when next I see
my weighing scale is up by 1 kg!!!!

------------------------------------------------------
- And to think that Scarlett's immortal lines of hope were - "After all...tomorrow is another day!"...ouch!!

A matter of life and death

2005-03-29T19:09:00.000+05:30

Terri Schiavo lies dying in her hospital bed amidst the tug of war between Michael Schiavo (her husband cum guardian) vs. Bob and Mary Schindler (her parents).

This much-publicized incident has rocked the world. People have been taking sides based on faith, politics, human rights and what not. Criticisms are flying thick and fast. As for me, I am just wondering about some of the issues that Terri’s case has brought about in its wake.

1. Should we hold onto a terminally ill patient for years, waiting in hope for a miraculous cure or should we let them go? Like it or not, there are considerations at work here

The helplessness, pain and frustration of the patient and his/her caregivers. Those who have had to take care of a terminally ill patient clearly know how frustrating it can be to see a loved one suffering day after day as we pray on in the hope of a miracle. What horrors the patients themselves go through i cannot even begin to fathom.
The sheer economics of providing such long term medical care (over 15years in Terri’s case). In poorer countries, this would have been deemed a luxury that very few could afford

2. I feel that the right to die is as important as the right to live. However, in the absence of a living will, should another person’s word be considered absolute proof of a patient’s will to die? Or, should the fact that the body is not giving in so easily be seen as a will to live? I do not know the answer but I am sure this case will prompt more people to work out living wills so that there is no scope for debate and suspicion at a later date

3. Many terminally ill patients have sought out death. However, does death have to be such a slow, long drawn process as in Terri’s case, where starvation has been the chosen route? The doctors seem divided over the issue whether lack of food and water is causing Terri any pain. On the one hand, medical analogies are being cited to say there cannot be pain but on the other hand, morphine doses are being given to alleviate the pain if any. So what is it? Can anyone really know? And what must it be like to be in her parent’s shoes to sit helplessly by her bedside watching her slipping away in bits, not knowing…?

4. Should a person’s guardianship rest solely with a spouse, while the parents are still alive? Parents who have given Terri life only to watch helplessly as it is taken away by the State at another’s insistence? Can anyone blame them for accusing Michael who has anyway moved on in life – made a home with another woman and even started a family of his own, a family that will not be legitimate until Terri dies? But then again I am left wondering if it can all be so simplistic. Why would a man who has found love again not simply move on by divorcing an ailing wife and returning her to her parents’ custody? Why live through the accusations that the world is heaping on him and maybe on his family as well? Why would a man who at one point had taken the pains to study nursing so that he could care for his wife now fight the world to let her go? Is it really about money and gaining freedom as his accusers point out? And then, is it totally unthinkable that parents (knowingly or unknowingly) do not always know/act in the best interest of their child and that someone else may understand that person much better?

5. How much should a government and its legalities intrude into the lives of people, especially when no crime has been committed? Should they have the last say in matters that are entirely personal in nature or should they restrict their jurisdiction to more global and societal matters, leaving people to run their individual lives in peace under the shelter and safety net that a government provides?

And last but not the least I am left stunned by the irony of fate. An eating disorder has brought Terri where she is today. And to think that her death should come about by withdrawal of food and water makes me wonder...really wonder...

A candle in the wind

2005-03-21T02:28:00.000+05:30

A candle burning in the wind
Like hope in human breast
At times its dim when in a trough
Or brightened in a crest

If snuffed out against the night
A wisp of smoke is seen
Reminder of some earlier time
Or a passion that has been

So let the candle melt down fully
My friend can you not see
'Tis better to meet a flaming end
Than to let life unlived be

Optimism

2005-03-20T04:18:00.000+05:30

Today…
Bumped my car on the parking wall
Lost my purse in a shopping mall

Drove over the yellow line
Ended up paying a traffic fine

Received a huge credit card bill
Then realized my bank account was nil

At work my computer crashed
All hopes of meeting deadline dashed

Caught my finger in the door
Slipped up on the bathroom floor

Dropped hot coffee on my file
And yet, believe me all the while

I said to myself, all is not lost...

…Yet! :-)

Arranged marriage

2005-03-20T03:40:00.000+05:30

Ever since Avi posted Gambit's Pawn on AKN, it has spawned a humorous exchange on arranged marriages. Here are two verses that offer the perspective of the bride and father of the bride. The intention is to look at the institution of arranged marriage in a lighter vein.

The setting...an unsuspecting man has been lured by family to visit the house of a prospective bride. There a family album is thrust before him and through innuendos, the family tries to persuade him to give a positive feedback regarding the match. The man calls it an attempt to fix his marriage "by stealth."

Now read on...

Scene 1

The face in the album was pretty

and before he could blink

an aunt turned towards the kitchen door

and summoned with a wink.

No longer a mere face in the album

soon the entire person appeared

with tray laden with tea and samosas

It was just as the poor chap feared!

He knew he was outnumbered

by mistresses of the game

He had a sinking feeling and

hoped she was feeling the same

But she was perfectly calm and cool

pouring tea with steady hand

and a little voice warned in his head

"Ab tera to baj gaya band!!"**

And all the while the pretty face

was thinking how she must

soon write to cousins and tell them

"Another bachelor bites the dust!"

Scene 2 :a wedding toast...

Whether check or stalemate

The bachelor’s fate

Was sealed on that trip

And all watched his blood drip

As he was led on a halter

To the sacrificial alter

And ‘just married’ chimed the bong

At the wedding meal

The bride's father with zeal

Raised a toast to the pair

And said - "I’d like to share

A momentous feeling

From which I am reeling

Coz’ to hide it would be wrong

After all these years

I have finally managed my dears

To take my lovely girl’s hand

On which shines the wedding band

And move it from MY PURSE TO HIS

I cannot fully express my bliss

For this I have waited so long!!"

(**Tr: 'you have been done for')

A game of chess

2005-03-14T17:26:00.001+05:30

Since the beginning of dawn
It has always been the pawn
Who dies at the front
While facing the brunt
Of a king’s pep talk

And the horse and its hooves
Makes the most moves
But only sometimes finds glory
In a legendary story
That’s passed down the ages

The bishop and the rook
Play by the book
And despite their strength
They go to great length
To avoid any leap of faith

So perhaps now we can guess
Why in the history of chess
It is accepted and seen fit
That it’s the 'Queen’s Gambit'
Which opens a world of possibilities...

Inspired by Avi's post - Gambit's pawn on AKN

Amazing grace

2005-03-09T01:47:00.000+05:30

Browsing through Amit's photo gallery I came upon this picture. The grace and majesty of the swan brought to my mind a poem by Rilke, read not so long ago...

This difficult living, laboring through
that which has been left undone,
is like the awkward walk of the swan.

And dying, this slipping away from the
ground upon which we stand every day,
is the anxious swan letting himself fall --

into waters, which receive him gently
and which, as though with reverence
and joy,draw back under him wave
after wave; while the swan, now infinitely
calm and self-assured, in his full majesty
allows himself to glide on.

Of boundaries and freedom

2005-02-26T21:21:00.000+05:30

I am faithful only to my spirit
not for me the shackles of your
singular love when the whole
world is mine for the taking

So call me unfaithful if you like
I will not be tied down by you
and yet I need you to be there
and in my heart of hearts I am
glad that you have the boundaries
that I so openly denounce and lack.

For what good is freedom if all
were free to do as they please?
an explorer leaves the comfort of
his home to reach new worlds, a
solitary bird scours the sky for new
horizons; but at the end of it all
don't they all look forward to
returning somewhere to someone
waiting eagerly only for them?

At the end of its voyage, where would
the weary ship return if there were no
harbor? What if one day the harbor decided
to leave just like the ship? If the nest
moved on with the wind and so did the home?

Though I may never admit, I know in my
heart of hearts that I am free to be free only
because that which I ridicule as bondage is
really the love that nurtures me and my quest

Inspired by Vijay's "Unfaithful" at AKN
The photograph above was taken by my friend Amit

Shadows

2005-02-19T16:41:00.000+05:30

Shadows of the mind
which we run from in fear
do not get left behind
they run as fast and often
fester our very soul.

Why not stop and face them
maybe we shall find that
their power to hurt and haunt
had diminished with time
long ago and we were just
running as a matter of habit.

Shadows look bigger in the
dark recesses of our mind
when challenged they often
shrink paving the way for a
new sunrise and finally freedom

(Also posted in AKN on Ryze)

The Gift

2005-02-15T14:58:00.000+05:30

They always found him very quiet
It seemed he never had much to say
Nothing to add to their discussions
Lively debates about past, future or today

Guys around him thought him a bit dull
Often he was the butt of their jokes
But it never did bother him really, that
He was not considered ‘one of the blokes’

He recalled his Bible teacher had said
“In the beginning was the Word”
But he often quietly wondered why
Most people so wanted to be heard

He noticed that very few listened
Everyone had too much to tell
'There’s hardly any buyer', he mused
'All of us are just out to sell'!

Being perceptive, he noted in his diary
‘Much of what is said is nonsense’
And every night when he knelt to pray
He thanked God for his gift of silence

(First published in AKN on Ryze, 14th Feb '05)

Farewell to the man who had all the luck

2005-02-12T02:52:00.000+05:30

Yesterday the world lost Arthur Miller. However, he will live on in our memories for his great plays, especially Death of a salesman (1949), which is today seen as one of the major achievements of modern American theatre.

I remember when my friends and I first saw the play enacted in Calcutta, we hotly debated Willy Loman's act. Was it cowardice or a true sacrifice? We never reached a consensus. Can anyone ever know?

India on the fast track

2005-02-04T20:43:00.000+05:30

Scene 1: TCS wins a huge 3 year contract with Ferrari for providing IT and engineering services to develop its race car engine, starting 2005.

Scene 2: 28year old Narain Karthikeyan is all set to become India's first F1 driver, having been offered a place on the Jordan team for 2005.

Looks like an exciting year ahead, with India finally accelerating onto the international fast track!

When disaster sells

2005-01-31T14:46:00.000+05:30

"I am convinced that we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the real misfortunes and pains of others". Edmund Burke, On the Sublime and Beautiful. Sect. xiv. vol. i. p. 118.

As immediate furore around the Asian Tsunami dies down and people across the affected regions grapple with putting their lives together again, a macabre form of human interest in this large-scale tragedy is slowly seeing light of day.

Tsunami souvenirs such as VCDs, t-shirts and gory pictures of bloated corpses floating in the sea are being snapped up by a segment of both the local population as well as disaster tourists. The VCD industry is seeing the most brisk business and if dealers are to be believed, the Tsunami videos are outselling even pirated Bollywood and Hollywood blockbusters.

This has of course outraged the survivers and in some cases even called for police action. However, as always, it makes me wonder what motivates people to buy into another's tragedy. This is not a tragedy of the past - so the argument that it has historic value is limited. This is a tragedy which is still alive!

So what is it - an emotional response? Could it be that watching these horrific real-life pictures in the safe confines of our homes make us deeply grateful for having been spared?

Or is the response purely cognitive? It is now a known fact that sales of disaster movies go up after such events. So could it be simply a need to know what it was all about in the first place, to educate ourselves so that we are better prepared?

Perhaps both of these rationales are acceptable in a way. However, there could be something more to the story. Maybe by either snapping up pictures, touring the areas unnecessarily or by buying into these 'souvenirs', some people are trying to be part of the tragedy in a thoughtless way. They want to be seen as 'having been there and seen it almost first hand, albeit from a safe distance'.

While one must be cautious in drawing conclusions about people's motivations in any given situation, some articles in the Globe and Mail and CBS News are certainly of note in this context. Interesting how the US senator Bill Frist, before completing his rounds of the relief work in Sri Lanka, posed for photographs beside some Tsunami debris and instructed a photographer - "Get some devastation in the back".

Maybe disaster just sells; like many other things that are out of the ordinary, different from our otherwise mundane lives it simply piques our interest...such a pity though, isn't it?

Of swastika and symbolism

2005-01-23T01:04:00.000+05:30

Earlier this month, a 20 year old prince wore a swastika arm band to his friend's fancy dress party. He probably simply thought it was "cool" or "fun" and did not in his darkest hours imagine the upheaval it would cause in the world around him.

This incident however, has led the EU to call for a ban on the symbol itself. To the western world, the swastika is associated with and brings to mind the horrors of the Nazi regime and holocaust.

Interestingly, the swastika was probably adopted by the Nazis as an Aryan symbol. In Mein Kampf, Hitler associates the symbol with "the fight for the victory of Aryan man".

In many eastern cultures, on the other hand, the swastika has been around for aeons as a revered auspicious symbol. It has religious significance in hinduism, buddhism and jainism. Even today, as my grandmother draws the swastika before her temple alter, it is purely devotion to her God and prayer for the well being of her family that drives her and not anti-semitism, nazi pride or impression of 'being cool'.

Amidst all this furore, what is most fascinating, is of course the way associations with symbols evolve over time and cultures. The swastika moves from being purely positive (religion), through the purely negative (holocaust) to a young boy's idea of a mere fancy dress costume...interesting!!

Food for thought

2005-01-20T17:24:00.000+05:30

The Supreme Court in India has fixed January 2005 as the deadline for all states to provide a midday meal in school for children upto class V. The intention behind this midday meal scheme is two-fold. To provide the children from poorer communities with atleast one nutritious meal and thereby motivate these children to attend school and increase attendance.

True, the implementation of this scheme is a mammoth task in terms of the sheer logistics. But if it can be done, it would be revolutionary and most beneficial for atleast 40% of India's children who are malnourished due to poverty.

The directive also states that the responsibility of cooking these meals should be given to women from backward classes and widows, who should be paid a retainer. Again the intention is noble though the money being offered is really a paltry sum. (For example in Orissa it is around Rs. 200 per month, which is roughly USD4.5!)

As governments begin to implement the scheme in the various states, one of the teething problems seen to emerge is the social standing of the cooks. Across various regions in India, from West Bengal through Orissa to Karnataka, there have been cases where upper caste parents have forbidden their children to partake of the midday meal since they have been cooked by the 'untouchables'.

What is very upsetting is how the issue of untouchability still pervades through India in this day and age. One school in West Bengal 'averted trouble' by employing a head cook from the upper caste (she would do the actual cooking) who would be assisted by 2 lower caste women (who would help with the preparations but would not actually stir the ladle).

However, from amongst the children comes a ray of hope. Dr. A.R. Vasavi of the National Institute of Advanced Studies (NIAS), cites an interesting case in The Hindu.

"An SDMC member in North Karnataka, who was particular about who cooked the meal for his son, had to relent when his child insisted that he wanted to have lunch with his friends."

I sometimes wonder why adults cannot see that which is so simple in a child's eye. After all... it is just "a lunch with friends" isn't it?

The happiness index

2005-01-15T03:58:00.001+05:30

My friend Charu has been commenting frequently on the various articles and studies on happiness.

As i read them with interest, i recall an equation my father used to tell me when i was a kid. Anytime I complained about how unhappy i was because I did not have everything that my friends had, he used to smile and tell me his formula for happiness and contentment.

"Happiness = what we have /what we desire. To be happy, the answer to this equation should always be more than '1'. There is no limit to what you can desire but there is a limit to what you have. So now it is upto you. You can choose to be either happy or unhappy"

Scientists today have worked out a far more complex formula for happiness . However to me, that piece of wisdom that i received from my father will always remain most precious and everytime i lose my way, i am sure it will lead me back onto the path of happiness.

The sixth sense

2005-01-15T02:49:00.000+05:30

The tsunami that hit South East Asia on December 26th 2004 has touched all our lives in more ways than one. It has pointed out again how utterly helpless we are when faced with Nature's fury.

I think what is most tragic is how the tsunami caught people totally unawares. All the videos and photographs doing the rounds on the Net tell the story of how people on various beaches in S.E Asia were crowding around to watch the initial sight. The uncharacteristic giant waves was something they had never seen and so they were watching with utter curiosity and awe. Most of them did not feel any sense of impending danger until it was too late.

Caught unawares...a simple phrase with gargantuan implications. We were caught unawares because we did not know the appropriate reaction to the situation at hand. We saw the signs but did not read them right.

I was surprised therefore to read how the animals in Sri Lanka's Yala National Park had averted the danger and moved to safety in the higher grounds well in time. Scientists are arguing whether it is a superior acoustic sense or the mysterious sixth sense that helped these animals escape the tragedy. According to the article published in the Guardian, the only other people who had sensed the coming danger were perhaps the indigenous tribes on the Indian archipelago of Andaman and Nicobar islands.

How could it be that these animals and tribes, not having experienced a tsunami before, moved to safety? Is it indeed their ability to read Nature's signals better than all of us? Is it possible that as our civilisation makes quantum leaps in the field of science and technology, we are gradually losing our need and therefore the power to be in tune with Nature?

Also, could it be that the 'sixth sense', rather than being the illusory ESP, is just the ability to train our five senses more effectively to pick up signals from the world around us and harness that into giving the right response? One wonders...

A lesson in music

2005-01-10T02:55:00.001+05:30

Philosophy is the highest music - Plato

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Last night, rummaging through my travel bag, i came upon a visiting card. The name on the card simply read - Professor Oak.

I remembered him well. Two months ago, strolling along the night market in Chiang Mai, Thailand, i had entered a small shop selling musical instruments, mainly flutes and fiddles. Seeing me browsing through with interest, the owner, invited me into his shop and offered to teach me the basics of how to play the Tro U.

As i struggled to play do-re-me-fa on the stringed instrument, we got talking. The owner introduced himself as professor Oak. He was a music teacher at the local college and he ran this shop on the side almost as a hobby. I learnt that he had also traveled to places like Vancouver to attend music conferences and shows.

"Learning to master an instrument needs dedication of a lifetime" said the professor. Then he went on to tell me how much he admired Indian instrumental music. "It is passionate and at the same time when performed by the maestros appear as something entirely sacred; it comes from deep within. No wonder these pieces are immortal and will never cease to enthrall us. Nowadays much of the music is so physical, so transient; everybody seems to be looking for short-cuts - they are here today, gone tomorrow!"

I tried to argue that there was nothing wrong in living for today, in valuing physicality and not seeking any immortality of sorts. Then all at once, the professor looked up, smiled and asked a simple question. "If this is what we value, then - what do you think will happen to the soul?"

That day i am afraid I did not learn to play the Cambodian fiddle beyond the basic notes. However, i had the privilege of meeting a great man in that little shop - a man who, with that simple question forced me to re-examine the way i looked at life.

From amidst the ruins

2005-01-08T16:44:00.000+05:30

In my last visit to Jordan i met an elderly holy man in Jerash. His knowledge about the ruins was very impressive and he offered to show me around.

As we walked around the site, taking in the triumphal Hadrian's arch, the hippodrome, forum and temples of Artemis and Zeus, haji Muhammed told me that he visited those ruins almost everyday.

"Look all around you and try to feel what it must have once been like" he said as we strolled down the Cardo and all at once it was easy to imagine that colonnaded street alive with the footfalls of its original inhabitants. We continued for a while in silence and then i asked him "why do you like coming here so often?" What he told me in response will stay with me forever...

He said that those ruins had helped him over the years to remain religious and humble and lead a righteous life. He must have seen the puzzlement on my face because he explained "Look at this once great city. Great kings have ruled here...people trembled at their power and might. They were once creators of history and the rulers of men...they must have done great deeds...some good, some bad, some even terrible... but today all that remains of them is this ruin....nothing matters today...everything has bitten the dust...none but a handful of historians remember them. I think it is sad this oblivion of the once invincible, and this keeps me humble and strengthens my faith."

In the years that i have been travelling, i have visited many ruins with touristic interest - from the pyramids in Giza, Egypt, through the outpost of Palmyra, Syria to the cham ruins in Hoi An, Vietnam; but that day among the ruins of Jerash, i learnt an important lesson about life. Then, standing on the steps of the hyppodrome i gazed in wonder at the world around and silently whispered a poem by Shelley, read so long ago....

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said:—Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

A message from Mt.Nebo

2005-01-04T00:25:00.000+05:30

Jordan - the place always brings a myriad images to my mind.

Mt. Nebo...from where Moses must have looked so longingly across the Dead sea. The land where his search ended but where he was never to set foot upon

As i watched the people enjoying a lazy morning in the waters below, i wondered if anyone could feel the old man's anguish in the gently blowing breeze.

A life of seeking and faith marred by a single act of aggressive disobedience - or was it just momentary vanity and the sense of power that temporarily blinded his vision as he struck the rock and commanded the water to gush forth?

I will never know... but as i stood there on that sunny morning, a voice in the wind whispered the following warning.....if you are given any form of power, do be very careful how you use it!!

Thank you Dina and Humorix!

2005-01-03T22:54:00.000+05:30

Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Well i finally managed to step into the world of blogging today, and i owe a great deal to the constant nudges from my friends, esp. Dina and Humorix(Avi).

Dina is a keen conversationalist and creative thinker. An avid blogger herself http://radio.weblogs.com/0121664/, she plans to give up traditional blogging this year and move to more exciting and advanced platforms of thought sharing.

Humorix is the eternal dream chaser and muse. Once the topper on the Ryze charts http://www.ryze.com/go/Humorix , Avi is also the creator of some of the most stunning digital graphics.

Here's to the new year of blogging!