We are all fools,
Fools of grandeur,
Fools of illusion,
First we fool others,
And then we fool ourselves.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Night, the mighty temptress
The Queen of Dusk,
the agony of morn
Nightfall, your spirit
enamors all.
Your magic permeates,
descends like a fog,
us humans are prepared,
ensnared, in this fall.
Laughter of inebriation,
trickles down the streets.
You watch and conceal a smile.
Lust and Love enraptures the roads.
You open your hair, and
observe-pleased.
Mortals taste the elixir of immortality,
from your cup of darkness.
Oh, night! How you fetter my spirit,
and then you set it free.
the agony of morn
Nightfall, your spirit
enamors all.
Your magic permeates,
descends like a fog,
us humans are prepared,
ensnared, in this fall.
Laughter of inebriation,
trickles down the streets.
You watch and conceal a smile.
Lust and Love enraptures the roads.
You open your hair, and
observe-pleased.
Mortals taste the elixir of immortality,
from your cup of darkness.
Oh, night! How you fetter my spirit,
and then you set it free.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thoughts on Feminism
Simone de Beauvoir, writes in her book “The Second Sex” (http://www.amazon.com/Second-Sex-Simone-Beauvoir/dp/0679724516) that women have in general been compelled to assume a secondary position in relation to men, and although they constitute nearly half of the human race numerically, their secondary standing is only comparable to that of racial minorities. Moreover, this secondary position has arisen from social and educational forces in the environment.
Whilst, some may see the above excerpt, inspired from Mlle Beauvoir’s book as a cause for discomfort and dissent, I feel that even though with the progression of time, things are changing, much work still remains.
Motivation
Perhaps, what sparked this issue in my mind and caused much furore mentally, the product of which are these words, is a song I heard, typically known as an “Item number” back home. These songs are typical in the India Cinema, where a suitably voluptuous woman is seen gyrating to some pulsating beats, talking about her sublime levels of beauty and allure. Whilst, this aides entertainment value for the movie, it casts a woman right back into the role of a “sex object”, being objectified it seems, is not a problem for women. Could this explain the secondary stance of women then? I am not criticising the cinema or even the dancing diva, but for a country like India where our masses are uneducated with unbridled poverty, and existing oppression of one’s sexuality, would this abovementioned description of a semi-naked woman, extolling her youth and contours not create a latent unrest? What I am perhaps trying to get at, is that without social reforms, overt projections of women’s sexuality via media are only going to lead to disastrous results (Read: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/will-delhi-ever-lose-the-rape-capital-tag/136324-3.html).
Where does feminism fit in all this?
In India, Liberal feminist movements have been popular, seeking political and legal equality of men and women without actually altering the structure of the society. Currently the women get 33% of reservation in the village assembly and the women’s reservation bill plans to extend this reservation to the parliament and legislative assemblies. Other examples could be the 30% reservation for women in law schools. But liberal feminism without the support of socialist feminism is not going to achieve any plangent results.
Socialist Feminism which seeks to end the oppression and exploitation of women, was at its peak during the freedom movement in India. Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s efforts led to the ban of the Sati Pratha (Practice). Sati was a religious practice wherein widows were required to immolate themselves on their husband’s pyre. Even Gandhi encouraged women to participate in the civil disobedience movement against the British. Socialist feminism in India today demands not only radical activism to end similar new age oppressions such as sexual harassment, but also needs a conscious realisation of all Indian women, particularly among the educated strata of the society. We are at a threshold of a new era, where women are acquiring more higher education than before, working longer hours in corporations, but we are still thinking in the same way. The problem is not getting accepted into the mainstream, the problem is accepting ourselves to be equal and at par with men and using same value judgments and norms that apply to men. Why is a woman, smoking and drinking with as much abandon as a man does, frowned upon? If the reason is, that this indulgence is injurious to health, then why is the same value judgment not inflicted upon men? This is the dichotomy I am referring to. This is the reason it is essential that Indian Women, not only get an academic education but a spirit of questioning that catalyzes how others think.
India being a patriarchal society, the man is still expected to be the primary breadwinner, the woman is expected to follow her parent’s directions before marriage and then follow her husband after. And of course, a womans most defining moment in her entire life is her marriage or childbirth. Perhaps Mlle Beauvoir was right when she said that a woman have been thought of as a womb. Perhaps this was true and necessary for the purpose of evolution a couple of thousand years ago, when reproduction was necessary for sustaining the human race, but just as we progressed from the stone ages, perhaps the other mental progression is also essential.
Moreover, it is the women who need to realise that they can be independent- economically, physically and socially. They need to move above the need to objectify themselves. We don’t need activism, we don’t need another reservation or a bill. We need a thought revolution.
Whilst, some may see the above excerpt, inspired from Mlle Beauvoir’s book as a cause for discomfort and dissent, I feel that even though with the progression of time, things are changing, much work still remains.
Motivation
Perhaps, what sparked this issue in my mind and caused much furore mentally, the product of which are these words, is a song I heard, typically known as an “Item number” back home. These songs are typical in the India Cinema, where a suitably voluptuous woman is seen gyrating to some pulsating beats, talking about her sublime levels of beauty and allure. Whilst, this aides entertainment value for the movie, it casts a woman right back into the role of a “sex object”, being objectified it seems, is not a problem for women. Could this explain the secondary stance of women then? I am not criticising the cinema or even the dancing diva, but for a country like India where our masses are uneducated with unbridled poverty, and existing oppression of one’s sexuality, would this abovementioned description of a semi-naked woman, extolling her youth and contours not create a latent unrest? What I am perhaps trying to get at, is that without social reforms, overt projections of women’s sexuality via media are only going to lead to disastrous results (Read: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/will-delhi-ever-lose-the-rape-capital-tag/136324-3.html).
Where does feminism fit in all this?
In India, Liberal feminist movements have been popular, seeking political and legal equality of men and women without actually altering the structure of the society. Currently the women get 33% of reservation in the village assembly and the women’s reservation bill plans to extend this reservation to the parliament and legislative assemblies. Other examples could be the 30% reservation for women in law schools. But liberal feminism without the support of socialist feminism is not going to achieve any plangent results.
Socialist Feminism which seeks to end the oppression and exploitation of women, was at its peak during the freedom movement in India. Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s efforts led to the ban of the Sati Pratha (Practice). Sati was a religious practice wherein widows were required to immolate themselves on their husband’s pyre. Even Gandhi encouraged women to participate in the civil disobedience movement against the British. Socialist feminism in India today demands not only radical activism to end similar new age oppressions such as sexual harassment, but also needs a conscious realisation of all Indian women, particularly among the educated strata of the society. We are at a threshold of a new era, where women are acquiring more higher education than before, working longer hours in corporations, but we are still thinking in the same way. The problem is not getting accepted into the mainstream, the problem is accepting ourselves to be equal and at par with men and using same value judgments and norms that apply to men. Why is a woman, smoking and drinking with as much abandon as a man does, frowned upon? If the reason is, that this indulgence is injurious to health, then why is the same value judgment not inflicted upon men? This is the dichotomy I am referring to. This is the reason it is essential that Indian Women, not only get an academic education but a spirit of questioning that catalyzes how others think.
India being a patriarchal society, the man is still expected to be the primary breadwinner, the woman is expected to follow her parent’s directions before marriage and then follow her husband after. And of course, a womans most defining moment in her entire life is her marriage or childbirth. Perhaps Mlle Beauvoir was right when she said that a woman have been thought of as a womb. Perhaps this was true and necessary for the purpose of evolution a couple of thousand years ago, when reproduction was necessary for sustaining the human race, but just as we progressed from the stone ages, perhaps the other mental progression is also essential.
Moreover, it is the women who need to realise that they can be independent- economically, physically and socially. They need to move above the need to objectify themselves. We don’t need activism, we don’t need another reservation or a bill. We need a thought revolution.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Questions anyone?
Our life is based on assumptions, assumptions some of which are realistic and some that have been dictated by the environment we live in. It’s difficult to see beyond these assumptions when we are living in the environment that dictates these assumptions. We have thus, two solutions to change the status quo. Getting out of that environment; as the anthropologists say- moving away from our cultural environment and entering a new one is the best way to understand our environment OR engender a more prolific questioning system. Whilst, physically moving to a new cultural vantage point might not always be possible, the spirit of questioning can afford all the liberties that seem to be curtailed in the first solution. Questioning things, one might say might be governed by the cultural context. Some cultures tend to not perceive too much choice, and accept the status quo in a humble manner, some cultures on the other hand, are more vocal in expressing this spirit of enquiry. But then again, this is an oversimplification.
There might be this voice which asks, why the need to question anything at all? Well, that’s, the first step in questioning itself. Answer that and let the enquiry begin.
There might be this voice which asks, why the need to question anything at all? Well, that’s, the first step in questioning itself. Answer that and let the enquiry begin.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Average Indian
1. Does not speak English
2. Does not have a phone
3. Is not an IT engineer
4. Has never travelled outside his/her village
5. Does not have a facebook account
6. Can not read this
7. Is not you and me.
So, the next time we shimmy towards generalizations let us stop and think for a second.
This is not an attempt to extol our relative achievements or the privilege that might have ostensibly been bestowed upon us. It is but a mere reflection of our ignorance, and the great responsibility that rests in our hand to acknowledge it and do something about it.
According to a 2005 World Bank estimate, 42% of India falls below the international poverty line of US$ 1.25 a day (PPP, in nominal terms 21.6 a day in urban areas and 14.3 in rural areas).
2007 report by the state-run National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians lived on less than 20 rupees (approximately US$0.50 nominal; US$2 PPP) per day.
As per the 2001 census, 35.5% of Indian households availed of banking services, 35.1% owned a radio or transistor, 31.6% a television, 9.1% a phone, 43.7% a bicycle, 11.7% a scooter, motorcycle or a moped, and 2.5% a car, jeep or van; 34.5% of the households had none of these assets.
(Source: Wikipedia. i.e- not that far away from our reach)
2. Does not have a phone
3. Is not an IT engineer
4. Has never travelled outside his/her village
5. Does not have a facebook account
6. Can not read this
7. Is not you and me.
So, the next time we shimmy towards generalizations let us stop and think for a second.
This is not an attempt to extol our relative achievements or the privilege that might have ostensibly been bestowed upon us. It is but a mere reflection of our ignorance, and the great responsibility that rests in our hand to acknowledge it and do something about it.
According to a 2005 World Bank estimate, 42% of India falls below the international poverty line of US$ 1.25 a day (PPP, in nominal terms 21.6 a day in urban areas and 14.3 in rural areas).
2007 report by the state-run National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians lived on less than 20 rupees (approximately US$0.50 nominal; US$2 PPP) per day.
As per the 2001 census, 35.5% of Indian households availed of banking services, 35.1% owned a radio or transistor, 31.6% a television, 9.1% a phone, 43.7% a bicycle, 11.7% a scooter, motorcycle or a moped, and 2.5% a car, jeep or van; 34.5% of the households had none of these assets.
(Source: Wikipedia. i.e- not that far away from our reach)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Madrid on my Mind
There are some cities that can overwhelm your heart. Madrid is definitely one of those cities. There are sights to be seen and wonders to be encountered here at every step. These wonders aren’t the usual run-of-the-mill grand events, but small little things that one may come across whilst walking or even while waiting for the metro. It could be the notes of a roadside musician or the careless abandon with which lovers look into each others eyes, but they inspire just as well as Vangelis’ theme from Chariots of Fire or bring out emotions similar to reading a poem by Frost.
But this is just me, and my overzealous impressions. Let it not sway your sanity
Memorable Madrid Metro Stations
Alonso Martinez-Gregorio Marañon
Gregorio-my home metro station and Alonso-the one after. I frequent them more than other stations I believe. Alonso Martinez has been recently discovered by me as the station that opens up avenues for food-courtesy the many restaurants close by. Also the beautiful Plaza Santa Barbara just off Alonso Martinez is a great place to just sit on a warm summer night, or any night right after the end of the Jazz at El Junco. Ofcourse, there was the night I encountered humans dressed as aliens in the metro headed towards Gregorio Marañon. These upbeat creatures sang and danced and pranced around the escalators, with more alacrity than the usual humans.
Nuñez De Balboa
The green line at Nunez de Balboa goes everywhere. Everywhere that you need to be. Everywhere that you should be.
Atocha
Ah Atocha! The port of embarkation for the travel to Toledo, and the port of much search for car rentals for the trip to San Sebastian. It is most associated with promise of travels to exotic places.
Tribunal
I remember discussing with D once that the metro at tribunal must be built really close to the abyss of hell, considering the number of escalators we need to climb up to get out. But of course, Tribunal is associated with the Bongo Player more than anything else. His music provides a nice soundtrack for the mundane journey up the escalators. He even has guest artistes that perform with him time to time. His enthusiasm is unbridled and his tuneful beats make the journey to the depths of hell worth reminiscing about.
Chueca
Ah, Chueca. The Metro station where my wallet was stolen, so it has a special place in my heart. But Checua’s appeal lies in its numerous little bars and shops. It’s vibrant vista is definitely something that warrants a visit, a cana and a stroll.
But this is just me, and my overzealous impressions. Let it not sway your sanity
Memorable Madrid Metro Stations
Alonso Martinez-Gregorio Marañon
Gregorio-my home metro station and Alonso-the one after. I frequent them more than other stations I believe. Alonso Martinez has been recently discovered by me as the station that opens up avenues for food-courtesy the many restaurants close by. Also the beautiful Plaza Santa Barbara just off Alonso Martinez is a great place to just sit on a warm summer night, or any night right after the end of the Jazz at El Junco. Ofcourse, there was the night I encountered humans dressed as aliens in the metro headed towards Gregorio Marañon. These upbeat creatures sang and danced and pranced around the escalators, with more alacrity than the usual humans.
Nuñez De Balboa
The green line at Nunez de Balboa goes everywhere. Everywhere that you need to be. Everywhere that you should be.
Atocha
Ah Atocha! The port of embarkation for the travel to Toledo, and the port of much search for car rentals for the trip to San Sebastian. It is most associated with promise of travels to exotic places.
Tribunal
I remember discussing with D once that the metro at tribunal must be built really close to the abyss of hell, considering the number of escalators we need to climb up to get out. But of course, Tribunal is associated with the Bongo Player more than anything else. His music provides a nice soundtrack for the mundane journey up the escalators. He even has guest artistes that perform with him time to time. His enthusiasm is unbridled and his tuneful beats make the journey to the depths of hell worth reminiscing about.
Chueca
Ah, Chueca. The Metro station where my wallet was stolen, so it has a special place in my heart. But Checua’s appeal lies in its numerous little bars and shops. It’s vibrant vista is definitely something that warrants a visit, a cana and a stroll.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Freedom from Social Isomorphism
We fight for freedom. Wars are waged, rebellion is staged. But Is our freedom ever free? Will we ever by free from the need for social convergence?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Let us Be Taught
I have always been one of those students who had this reverence for teachers. Perhaps it has something to with half my family being involved in that profession, or maybe I am just afraid. Let’s say at this point in time I don’t want to find out. My decision to explore and devote the rest of my life to academia perhaps didn’t come as quite a shock to me, which is more than I can say for my friends at the more ambitious business school fraternity. From within this newly forayed into domain of academia, I however feel this incredulous and disdainful array of questions directed from the outside- “ the real world” as it may be called. Of course, once the Pandora’s box of scepticism has been opened, it is difficult to let the spate of questions pass by without rationalising to some extent. So began the quest to express sentiment over the issue which validates all things real and marginalises activities associated with teaching as something for those avoiding reality.
My argument is constructed firstly on an attempt to clarify the role of teaching in a society that is undergoing cataclysmic change with the advent of the Internet, allowing easy access to knowledge. As I dwell back on the first memories of interacting with teachers, I am reminded of the countless hours we spent with out first grade teacher trying to learn alphabets that construct a coherent word in our myriad languages, the endless series of numbers written to put a value to this abstract world of ours, to the stories we heard which made us realise that stealing Tara’s lunch is wrong. But then, don’t we already know this? Pardon my temerity, but I believe we tend to forget these invaluable lessons that were indeed taught to us. It is perhaps easy for those of us being empowered with education to underrate the role of teachers in our lives. The very fact that many of us are able to comprehend what is being written here, is very testament to the fact that we were taught how to read at some point in our distant or not so distant past ( as the case may be). Maybe the value of a teacher is more to those who are never forced to learn and never pushed down the path of learning. There are countless children in the world who never go to schools, have never had a teacher, who will probably never be taught how to write their own names. Secondly, on a more abstract level, I question the construct of reality. Our unabashed claims marginalising teaching as a form of escapism from the real world, are based on our own interpretation of reality. Moreover, since many of us have created this collective sense of “reality” anything that does not adhere to it tends to lie outside this construct.
As I write this, I am reminded of a quote that I have heard often, particularly right after I have declared my intent as to the Ph.D I am undertaking- “Those who can – do, Those who can’t- teach”. A perfunctory attempt online to dwell to the source of this quote, surprised me. This quote was used by a famous author in a completely different context, however it is cited today to a great extent to the point of having degraded itself to a cliché. However noble the intent of the quote might have been at the time, at present it just fuels the determination of those who still question the profession of teaching.
Can you imagine a world where there weren’t any teachers? I sure can’t. Perhaps, I like to be told once in a while what is required, perhaps I am just a sucker for authority. But that’s just me. While learning by doing is perhaps the best way of acquiring valuable life lessons, rest assured, we do not want to explore the answer to 587683 divided by 365 using a trial and error approach.
On second thought too much control and authority makes us rebel, and makes us sing along to Pink Floyd “ Teachers leave those kids alone”. But then teachers aren’t here to take the blame for the way we think, and what we don’t make of our lives. We need to look at the profession for what it is intended, not more not less.
My parting words on this theme would have to be these:
“Those who can - do,
Those who can’t – teach”
And those who aren’t taught,
Shall soon beseech
My argument is constructed firstly on an attempt to clarify the role of teaching in a society that is undergoing cataclysmic change with the advent of the Internet, allowing easy access to knowledge. As I dwell back on the first memories of interacting with teachers, I am reminded of the countless hours we spent with out first grade teacher trying to learn alphabets that construct a coherent word in our myriad languages, the endless series of numbers written to put a value to this abstract world of ours, to the stories we heard which made us realise that stealing Tara’s lunch is wrong. But then, don’t we already know this? Pardon my temerity, but I believe we tend to forget these invaluable lessons that were indeed taught to us. It is perhaps easy for those of us being empowered with education to underrate the role of teachers in our lives. The very fact that many of us are able to comprehend what is being written here, is very testament to the fact that we were taught how to read at some point in our distant or not so distant past ( as the case may be). Maybe the value of a teacher is more to those who are never forced to learn and never pushed down the path of learning. There are countless children in the world who never go to schools, have never had a teacher, who will probably never be taught how to write their own names. Secondly, on a more abstract level, I question the construct of reality. Our unabashed claims marginalising teaching as a form of escapism from the real world, are based on our own interpretation of reality. Moreover, since many of us have created this collective sense of “reality” anything that does not adhere to it tends to lie outside this construct.
As I write this, I am reminded of a quote that I have heard often, particularly right after I have declared my intent as to the Ph.D I am undertaking- “Those who can – do, Those who can’t- teach”. A perfunctory attempt online to dwell to the source of this quote, surprised me. This quote was used by a famous author in a completely different context, however it is cited today to a great extent to the point of having degraded itself to a cliché. However noble the intent of the quote might have been at the time, at present it just fuels the determination of those who still question the profession of teaching.
Can you imagine a world where there weren’t any teachers? I sure can’t. Perhaps, I like to be told once in a while what is required, perhaps I am just a sucker for authority. But that’s just me. While learning by doing is perhaps the best way of acquiring valuable life lessons, rest assured, we do not want to explore the answer to 587683 divided by 365 using a trial and error approach.
On second thought too much control and authority makes us rebel, and makes us sing along to Pink Floyd “ Teachers leave those kids alone”. But then teachers aren’t here to take the blame for the way we think, and what we don’t make of our lives. We need to look at the profession for what it is intended, not more not less.
My parting words on this theme would have to be these:
“Those who can - do,
Those who can’t – teach”
And those who aren’t taught,
Shall soon beseech
Thursday, September 30, 2010
An ode to the dried up Lense
Dried up lense,look at you rot
you'd be with me forever, so id thought
I poured solution on u day after day
But in your final moments, no goodbye i could even say
Dried up lense all shrivelled up and grey
You were supposed to adorn me today
you'd be with me forever, so id thought
I poured solution on u day after day
But in your final moments, no goodbye i could even say
Dried up lense all shrivelled up and grey
You were supposed to adorn me today
The Mighty Common Indian Man
The transition presented in the Indian media from one sensational issue to another is phenomenal in itself. Is it the medias’ mercurial nature, like a child with Attention Deficit Disorder or is it that our country is producing scintillating news every day I am not sure I can answer that with conviction. From the level of preparedness for the Common Wealth Games ( or lack of it thereof) to the Ayodhya verdict, the masses in our country have found a common cause for unity be it the criticism of the Organizing Committee at the Commonwealth Games being hosted in Delhi in the next few days or the myriad reasoning for the possession of the disputed land in Ayodhya.
Freedom of the press is a basic human right and you would all agree with me on that. For censorship would most certainly breed evil, malice and other synonyms associated with all things wrong. So we whole heartedly embrace freedom, adorn out opinions with critique which seems to be the mainstream and then have heated discussions of all that is wrong in our country. Ah, such joy is accompanied with this liberating experience of being able to psychoanalyse all the ills of our society. So the media has managed to unite the masses after all- by making us critics, the elite of the society who sit in coffee shops and munch on cookies and discuss contemporary political issues with panache. But what happens once these conversations are over? Is there any purpose to this critique apart from a meagre ego boost resulting from our splendid abilities to synthesise arguments of what is wrong and how it needs to be rectified? Unfortunately, I think this is where the story ends. The process of sensationalism-igniting passion-criticism ends there. But it does leave some vestiges of positivity- the power of unity, the power of united passion. If we can come together to vehemently discuss all that is wrong, perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps there is a way to make mends. We don’t need a change of the government, or any institutional change. We must remember the nature of the democracy; we must understand the power that lies with the common man. The you and the me of the society.
The media might be doing what it does best, but the incidental bi-products of this radical sensationalism is the generation of passion among the masse. Only when we- not as a nation, not as a state or a city or a school or a university, but as you and me, just individual units, decide to channelize this passion into a tangible action, can the country as a whole accelerate on its path to evolve into a nation that is developed in the true sense.
Abstract, as it may be, the concept of change is actually very fundamental. We can start now, by not littering our cities, by not jumping the stop light, and by generally being more happy. It’s time to take ownership, for India is a democracy. We have created it and we have the power to change it.
Freedom of the press is a basic human right and you would all agree with me on that. For censorship would most certainly breed evil, malice and other synonyms associated with all things wrong. So we whole heartedly embrace freedom, adorn out opinions with critique which seems to be the mainstream and then have heated discussions of all that is wrong in our country. Ah, such joy is accompanied with this liberating experience of being able to psychoanalyse all the ills of our society. So the media has managed to unite the masses after all- by making us critics, the elite of the society who sit in coffee shops and munch on cookies and discuss contemporary political issues with panache. But what happens once these conversations are over? Is there any purpose to this critique apart from a meagre ego boost resulting from our splendid abilities to synthesise arguments of what is wrong and how it needs to be rectified? Unfortunately, I think this is where the story ends. The process of sensationalism-igniting passion-criticism ends there. But it does leave some vestiges of positivity- the power of unity, the power of united passion. If we can come together to vehemently discuss all that is wrong, perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps there is a way to make mends. We don’t need a change of the government, or any institutional change. We must remember the nature of the democracy; we must understand the power that lies with the common man. The you and the me of the society.
The media might be doing what it does best, but the incidental bi-products of this radical sensationalism is the generation of passion among the masse. Only when we- not as a nation, not as a state or a city or a school or a university, but as you and me, just individual units, decide to channelize this passion into a tangible action, can the country as a whole accelerate on its path to evolve into a nation that is developed in the true sense.
Abstract, as it may be, the concept of change is actually very fundamental. We can start now, by not littering our cities, by not jumping the stop light, and by generally being more happy. It’s time to take ownership, for India is a democracy. We have created it and we have the power to change it.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
What is that you said?
I didn’t hear you,
Encore, my friend.
The loud voices,
The din of the room,
The girl rejoices,
What is that you said?
I want to hear you,
But I can’t, not a word
It doesn’t make sense,
The voice is blurred.
What is that you said?
I heard you, yes I did,
But I desist to comprehend,
I leave the room,
I can’t pretend.
What is that you said?
Ah, it’s all right
I choose not to hear,
My ears are blind.
I didn’t hear you,
Encore, my friend.
The loud voices,
The din of the room,
The girl rejoices,
What is that you said?
I want to hear you,
But I can’t, not a word
It doesn’t make sense,
The voice is blurred.
What is that you said?
I heard you, yes I did,
But I desist to comprehend,
I leave the room,
I can’t pretend.
What is that you said?
Ah, it’s all right
I choose not to hear,
My ears are blind.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Collision Course
Indian Society is undoubtedly a collective society. If it is not evident to you yet (you-referring to an Indian reader, others can let this illustration be an evidence), please refer back to a memory when you were departing to some far off land to study/work/travel and your entire family comprising parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins had thronged to the airport to bid you a fond farewell. Family adhesiveness and societal pressures are indeed quintessentially Indian. I knew this at some subliminal level, but after interacting with people from so many Individualistic cultures, this realization has become completely conscious.
But although our collective conscious dominates, I see streaks of Individualistic tendencies creeping out and trying to make their presence felt. I can see this with greater clarity as I reflect on the difference between my parents and I. In a collective society people value the society more, and anyone not in adherence with the social construct would be deemed a misfit and outlier, if at all that is allowed to exist, because usually individuals would not want to do anything to be an outlier. I have heard of stories of girls wanting to become dancers and singers, but their parents opposition to trivialised profession as opposed to other respectable and well paid professions, lead to thwarted desires, and eventually contributed to those girls pursuing something in tandem with the desires of their parents, which in fact were influenced by the collective conscience. What we see here is a collision of collective conscience and an Individual identity. What eventually won here was the collective.
Indian society and culture prescribes codes of conduct, behaviour, sense of morality and sometimes even professional pursuits. This works fine as long as we live in a cocoon of socially constructed reality, oblivious to externalities of the world. But the minute this bubble explodes, as is evident now-with a vast influx of media, changed lifestyle, greater incomes, travels and perhaps an enhanced view of the world, we have rebellious youth questioning authority. How long that lasts, of course depends on how strong the collective conscience is.
Individual and collective desires are usually at loggerheads in a society like ours; there is almost always a trade off. There is no optimal strategy for gratifying both. If I do something that makes me happy, it probably will be at a cost of making my family and my society unhappy. Of course this is a simplistic generalization, and money and education has afforded some members of our society to develop their own accepted norms and values which are somewhere in between the continuum of Individualistic desires and the collective conscience.
The life of a pre-pubescent in India can be fraught with quite some confusion given a collision of identities. We grow up readings books that talk about dreaming big and exploring, we see movies in which individuals have defied the social norm to go on to do something grandiose, and then when we remove ourselves from this world of books and movies, we find ourselves confronted with a strange reality. We oft, can not do what we really are pining to do. Worse yet, our desires and wishes get engulfed by the great collective cloud, and slowly the dissonance we experience from holding these two contradictory thoughts in our head, ameliorates, and what is left is the nebulous cloud of the collective construct, and we don’t even realize when the individual became the collective.
But although our collective conscious dominates, I see streaks of Individualistic tendencies creeping out and trying to make their presence felt. I can see this with greater clarity as I reflect on the difference between my parents and I. In a collective society people value the society more, and anyone not in adherence with the social construct would be deemed a misfit and outlier, if at all that is allowed to exist, because usually individuals would not want to do anything to be an outlier. I have heard of stories of girls wanting to become dancers and singers, but their parents opposition to trivialised profession as opposed to other respectable and well paid professions, lead to thwarted desires, and eventually contributed to those girls pursuing something in tandem with the desires of their parents, which in fact were influenced by the collective conscience. What we see here is a collision of collective conscience and an Individual identity. What eventually won here was the collective.
Indian society and culture prescribes codes of conduct, behaviour, sense of morality and sometimes even professional pursuits. This works fine as long as we live in a cocoon of socially constructed reality, oblivious to externalities of the world. But the minute this bubble explodes, as is evident now-with a vast influx of media, changed lifestyle, greater incomes, travels and perhaps an enhanced view of the world, we have rebellious youth questioning authority. How long that lasts, of course depends on how strong the collective conscience is.
Individual and collective desires are usually at loggerheads in a society like ours; there is almost always a trade off. There is no optimal strategy for gratifying both. If I do something that makes me happy, it probably will be at a cost of making my family and my society unhappy. Of course this is a simplistic generalization, and money and education has afforded some members of our society to develop their own accepted norms and values which are somewhere in between the continuum of Individualistic desires and the collective conscience.
The life of a pre-pubescent in India can be fraught with quite some confusion given a collision of identities. We grow up readings books that talk about dreaming big and exploring, we see movies in which individuals have defied the social norm to go on to do something grandiose, and then when we remove ourselves from this world of books and movies, we find ourselves confronted with a strange reality. We oft, can not do what we really are pining to do. Worse yet, our desires and wishes get engulfed by the great collective cloud, and slowly the dissonance we experience from holding these two contradictory thoughts in our head, ameliorates, and what is left is the nebulous cloud of the collective construct, and we don’t even realize when the individual became the collective.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Song of the Seas
In the brilliance of the sun,
The shiny splendour blue,
It reaches the shore,
Swishing as if on cue,
Like it wants me to hear,
Stories of ships lost,
The places it has seen,
The battles it has fought.
Darker than night itself,
In the darkness of the night,
It just wants to hold on,
It waits for the light,
It whispers in my ears,
Promises of clear blue,
What it doesn’t know,
colour ain’t all that true.
The shiny splendour blue,
It reaches the shore,
Swishing as if on cue,
Like it wants me to hear,
Stories of ships lost,
The places it has seen,
The battles it has fought.
Darker than night itself,
In the darkness of the night,
It just wants to hold on,
It waits for the light,
It whispers in my ears,
Promises of clear blue,
What it doesn’t know,
colour ain’t all that true.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Quintessentially Indian
Indian Society is a collective society. You might have read that somewhere. Geert Hofstede and his study of cultures with IBM employees came to the same conclusion. What might that mean now? It translates like this…We thrive on interfering in others business, are prone to excessive convincing, behaving like your best friend, force-feeding food to strangers among other things. Here is a list of some quintessentially Indian behavioural traits:
1. If you visit our house, we are programmed to force-feed you even if you don’t want to eat. If you don’t eat, we will be pissed. Very pissed.
2. We will ask incessant questions if we see that you are not opening up and will not cease until you have convinced us that you are indeed not troubled.
3. We love dancing. Wherever-Whenever. The more the merrier. And you’d better not be sitting or you are going to be carried to the dance floor.
4. We love taking vacations with our family even at age 30.
5. We love food. It makes our day. Obesity is my worst nightmare. We also love carrying food with us wherever we go.
6. From the moment we set our eyes on you, we behave like your best friends. Don’t worry we wont stalk you.
7. Once we have established that you are indeed our best friends, we would go on to insult you. Do not take this personally.
8. We are great at Math. Calculus here I come!
9. We are genetically programmed to be warm.
10. We love you.
1. If you visit our house, we are programmed to force-feed you even if you don’t want to eat. If you don’t eat, we will be pissed. Very pissed.
2. We will ask incessant questions if we see that you are not opening up and will not cease until you have convinced us that you are indeed not troubled.
3. We love dancing. Wherever-Whenever. The more the merrier. And you’d better not be sitting or you are going to be carried to the dance floor.
4. We love taking vacations with our family even at age 30.
5. We love food. It makes our day. Obesity is my worst nightmare. We also love carrying food with us wherever we go.
6. From the moment we set our eyes on you, we behave like your best friends. Don’t worry we wont stalk you.
7. Once we have established that you are indeed our best friends, we would go on to insult you. Do not take this personally.
8. We are great at Math. Calculus here I come!
9. We are genetically programmed to be warm.
10. We love you.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
On acceptance and forgiveness
There is religion and then there is an ostensible sense of morality to be adhered to in life, and boy can this be tedious. You’d think that with all these compasses directing an individual would certainly not feel astray, but surprisingly, the reigns of such religious or social institution fetter us more than liberate us.
Maybe the meaning intended has been lost somewhere down the hundreds of years, maybe humanity is guided by commercial pursuits to such an extent that it construes all wisdom as it deems suitable, which of them is applicable, if at all, I can not aver. However, there are individuals and schools of thought existing today, that make us realise how the chaos of the world plays with us, instilling in us a feeling of helplessness. Eckhart Tolle, talks of acceptance and forgiveness in his book the “Power of Now”, whilst in his other book “A New Earth” he talks of how unconsciousness among humans in terms of ego gratification and competition and how it leads to conflicts, chaos and unhappiness.
I wonder why we are not taught important things like forgiveness and acceptance, and instead are encouraged to propel onto paths of competition and achievement. This works as long as one is in effect attaining something, but the minute the accolades and achievements cease to come our away, we become distraught, caught in our ego circles, not willing to accept the defeat, chastising ourselves for the mistakes we have made, and blaming others alternately. Maybe it is time to question our deeply entrenched ways of existing, our mechanically socialised responses, and for once, let this moment be as it is and not resist it.
Maybe the meaning intended has been lost somewhere down the hundreds of years, maybe humanity is guided by commercial pursuits to such an extent that it construes all wisdom as it deems suitable, which of them is applicable, if at all, I can not aver. However, there are individuals and schools of thought existing today, that make us realise how the chaos of the world plays with us, instilling in us a feeling of helplessness. Eckhart Tolle, talks of acceptance and forgiveness in his book the “Power of Now”, whilst in his other book “A New Earth” he talks of how unconsciousness among humans in terms of ego gratification and competition and how it leads to conflicts, chaos and unhappiness.
I wonder why we are not taught important things like forgiveness and acceptance, and instead are encouraged to propel onto paths of competition and achievement. This works as long as one is in effect attaining something, but the minute the accolades and achievements cease to come our away, we become distraught, caught in our ego circles, not willing to accept the defeat, chastising ourselves for the mistakes we have made, and blaming others alternately. Maybe it is time to question our deeply entrenched ways of existing, our mechanically socialised responses, and for once, let this moment be as it is and not resist it.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Attempt at Poetry in Spanish
So I wrote my first poem in Spanish, only to realise later, that there is a song by Marc Anthony which starts very similarly, and has a generous usage of "cuando (When)" and "Sueno (Dream)" in it, just like my intended poem.
Anyway, I am no Marc Anthony, So I can safely post my poem on my blog without being hounded by the music industry for a calling in the song-writing business..
Recuerda me cuando
Estoy no con tigo
Recuerda me en tus sueños
Cuando hay nubes oscuro en el cielo
Recuerda me cuando escuchas,
Escuchas mi cancion favorito
Recuerda me a veces,
Recuerda me, como recuerdo ti.
.......
Remember me when
I'm not with you
Remember me in your dreams
When there are dark clouds in the sky
Remember me when you hear,
Hear my favorite song
Remember me sometimes
Remember me, as I remember you.
....
And for those who want more...
Marc Anthony Lyrics: http://www.metrolyrics.com/recuerdame-lyrics-la-5-estacion.html
Anyway, I am no Marc Anthony, So I can safely post my poem on my blog without being hounded by the music industry for a calling in the song-writing business..
Recuerda me cuando
Estoy no con tigo
Recuerda me en tus sueños
Cuando hay nubes oscuro en el cielo
Recuerda me cuando escuchas,
Escuchas mi cancion favorito
Recuerda me a veces,
Recuerda me, como recuerdo ti.
.......
Remember me when
I'm not with you
Remember me in your dreams
When there are dark clouds in the sky
Remember me when you hear,
Hear my favorite song
Remember me sometimes
Remember me, as I remember you.
....
And for those who want more...
Marc Anthony Lyrics: http://www.metrolyrics.com/recuerdame-lyrics-la-5-estacion.html
Thursday, April 1, 2010
An ode to the Charles Bridge
Our forefathers,
Create history;
The castles and the wars.
Our fathers,
Study history;
The beauty, the pitfalls.
Us, today,
We see the history;
A story, a picture;
On the bridge, as the night falls.
Create history;
The castles and the wars.
Our fathers,
Study history;
The beauty, the pitfalls.
Us, today,
We see the history;
A story, a picture;
On the bridge, as the night falls.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Words
My words, stumble
On a sentence
In a song
In an ambush of emotions
Through a sermon so long
My words, snowball
In euphoric success,
In an excited stupor,
When they must confess.
My words, elude
In the realm of love,
In peaceful existence,
The words, they learn.
On a sentence
In a song
In an ambush of emotions
Through a sermon so long
My words, snowball
In euphoric success,
In an excited stupor,
When they must confess.
My words, elude
In the realm of love,
In peaceful existence,
The words, they learn.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Excerpt from "Packaging Dreams"
Packaging Dreams- the book that I essentially call Work-in-Progress.
Maybe I will finish it. Someday.
Bloise, France
Saturday
We have shunned express highways for state highways, windy one lane roads that promise stretches of pristine verdure and placid canals, sheep and herds of the like grazing naively oblivious to the speeding cars, and little cottages with smoke billowing out of the chimney, making my stomach growl with hunger as my mind conjures up images of crepes and broths. Our destination is Amboise. An hour or so from Bloise. The map is our aid, Samarth our messiah, and me -just the usual driver. Smriti offers a cookie which I graciously accept; Ankur offers driving advice, which I petulantly ignore.
After some polemical crossings and turns we finally arrive in Amboise. It is the city that houses Clos Luce Manor, where Leonardo Da Vinci lived in his final days.
The city is small even by my standards ( people call me a midget sometimes) yet its abuzz with activity. The ‘Amboise on ice’ skating rink is a blur of colour and music. The cafes spill out on the road, people sit outside enjoying the overcast skies. As we make out way down the winding cobbled path in search for the Manor, the town strikes me as surreal, something straight out of a song in which a princess finds her prince, and they live happily in the their Chateau and take leisurely strolls in the town, stop in a Chocolaterie and indulge in some Rum flavored delicacies.
We manage to find out way to the Clos Luc Manor with some difficulty, the landscape comprises of wet grass, tall trees, swings, and replicas of Lenoardo Da Vincis inventions. There are radical water pumps, tanks, boats among other things, we let loose like children and prance around from one attraction to the other, climbing onto makeshift bridges, exploring contraptions with a curiosity that would have humbled George. The Manor is up ahead, we buy tickets and move on inside to get a glimpse of Da Vincis home. There are more models of his inventions constructed by IBM. There is the tank, the paddle boat and the swing bridge. So ingenuously designed. It is really awe-inspiring to be a part of this experience, to actually be at the very place where the man who painted the ever famous ‘La Gioconda’ breathed his last breath. History is made every minute, as I step down the stairs, observing the Manor, what it offers, the models, the rooms, I realize, with every new person who steps in, the history of the manor changes, the history of that individual changes.
Maybe I will finish it. Someday.
Bloise, France
Saturday
We have shunned express highways for state highways, windy one lane roads that promise stretches of pristine verdure and placid canals, sheep and herds of the like grazing naively oblivious to the speeding cars, and little cottages with smoke billowing out of the chimney, making my stomach growl with hunger as my mind conjures up images of crepes and broths. Our destination is Amboise. An hour or so from Bloise. The map is our aid, Samarth our messiah, and me -just the usual driver. Smriti offers a cookie which I graciously accept; Ankur offers driving advice, which I petulantly ignore.
After some polemical crossings and turns we finally arrive in Amboise. It is the city that houses Clos Luce Manor, where Leonardo Da Vinci lived in his final days.
The city is small even by my standards ( people call me a midget sometimes) yet its abuzz with activity. The ‘Amboise on ice’ skating rink is a blur of colour and music. The cafes spill out on the road, people sit outside enjoying the overcast skies. As we make out way down the winding cobbled path in search for the Manor, the town strikes me as surreal, something straight out of a song in which a princess finds her prince, and they live happily in the their Chateau and take leisurely strolls in the town, stop in a Chocolaterie and indulge in some Rum flavored delicacies.
We manage to find out way to the Clos Luc Manor with some difficulty, the landscape comprises of wet grass, tall trees, swings, and replicas of Lenoardo Da Vincis inventions. There are radical water pumps, tanks, boats among other things, we let loose like children and prance around from one attraction to the other, climbing onto makeshift bridges, exploring contraptions with a curiosity that would have humbled George. The Manor is up ahead, we buy tickets and move on inside to get a glimpse of Da Vincis home. There are more models of his inventions constructed by IBM. There is the tank, the paddle boat and the swing bridge. So ingenuously designed. It is really awe-inspiring to be a part of this experience, to actually be at the very place where the man who painted the ever famous ‘La Gioconda’ breathed his last breath. History is made every minute, as I step down the stairs, observing the Manor, what it offers, the models, the rooms, I realize, with every new person who steps in, the history of the manor changes, the history of that individual changes.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Tempest Talk
This force inside of me
Doesn’t let me be
It’s a tempest this one,
Still it sets me free...
It’s a furious storm today,
Igniting thoughts away,
It’s a constant drizzle perhaps,
Engendering words so grey...
It’s a vortex this storm,
It’s a force so wild,
It inspires, it propels
This force inside...
Doesn’t let me be
It’s a tempest this one,
Still it sets me free...
It’s a furious storm today,
Igniting thoughts away,
It’s a constant drizzle perhaps,
Engendering words so grey...
It’s a vortex this storm,
It’s a force so wild,
It inspires, it propels
This force inside...
Monday, February 8, 2010
Attempt at Haiku
Riding in the metro
We are like strangers
As winter fades
.........................
Contributions by KOTa
riding the wind
we are dreaming
the spring is here?
walking through the night
strangers become friends
shimmer of the summer awaits
the night is running out
we are worlds apart
autumn of our lives
We are like strangers
As winter fades
.........................
Contributions by KOTa
riding the wind
we are dreaming
the spring is here?
walking through the night
strangers become friends
shimmer of the summer awaits
the night is running out
we are worlds apart
autumn of our lives
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Letting Go..
I will start this brief account on philosophy in the usual fashion which is much appreciated by the masses-a list. I love lists really-they are concise and spaced out and if I’m lucky-entertaining. Ergo, the fervor for lists. I love making them, reading them, and putting them up on walls.
10 things I’ve lost in Madrid or should I say..In Madrid..I’ve lost:
1. One earring belonging to a pair; bought after much speculation as to price and quality at GKI-M block Market in New Delhi.
2. The will to iron clothes. I like the dwindling supply of clothes in my closet
3. The inertia that prevented me from cooking meals.
4. The ability to finish books in a day. When you have Organizational Theory readings to devour, who’d like to read fiction anyway? (For the uninitiated: We do not like OT readings and yes this is my feeble attempt at sarcasm; if it is a bit much, please hold thy breath as my pristine philosophy follows soon after)
5. 20 Euros in a club. I believe it was for a good cause. Some poor soul must have been bestowed with 2 more hours of inebriation courtesy my absentminded generosity.
6. My way to the airport. The circular line is just that: CIRCULAR.
7. One earring belonging to pair#2.; bought without any speculation as to price and quality at the famous Janpath (literally: Road of the Masses) Market in New Delhi
8. A couple of kilograms. But this was after I’d gained some. So it’s okay right?
9. All semblance of sanity on weekends. ☺
10. My way to Noviciado.Getting on to the train going in the wrong direction and not realising it till it ends up in the outskirts of the city-Not very promising. Even less promising when you realise there were actually 3 of you and none of you noticed the drastically changing landscape. Ah, but more of that later…
Engrossing as it was to come up with this list, the intent for writing this was in reality to broach issues of change and adaptation or to put it more colloquially-letting go. I have always faced inertia as the bouncer outside the club that greets you when you are dressed all wrong. It sneers, and declares that it won’t let you pass, such is Inertia and its power. It just doesn’t want to let you pass through the gates into something new and exciting, even when you are all ready to go.
So what do you do? Well, I for one,plan to visit that club oh so often, that the bouncer has to let up and let me through.
Lets it hear for change, lets hear it for something new..!
10 things I’ve lost in Madrid or should I say..In Madrid..I’ve lost:
1. One earring belonging to a pair; bought after much speculation as to price and quality at GKI-M block Market in New Delhi.
2. The will to iron clothes. I like the dwindling supply of clothes in my closet
3. The inertia that prevented me from cooking meals.
4. The ability to finish books in a day. When you have Organizational Theory readings to devour, who’d like to read fiction anyway? (For the uninitiated: We do not like OT readings and yes this is my feeble attempt at sarcasm; if it is a bit much, please hold thy breath as my pristine philosophy follows soon after)
5. 20 Euros in a club. I believe it was for a good cause. Some poor soul must have been bestowed with 2 more hours of inebriation courtesy my absentminded generosity.
6. My way to the airport. The circular line is just that: CIRCULAR.
7. One earring belonging to pair#2.; bought without any speculation as to price and quality at the famous Janpath (literally: Road of the Masses) Market in New Delhi
8. A couple of kilograms. But this was after I’d gained some. So it’s okay right?
9. All semblance of sanity on weekends. ☺
10. My way to Noviciado.Getting on to the train going in the wrong direction and not realising it till it ends up in the outskirts of the city-Not very promising. Even less promising when you realise there were actually 3 of you and none of you noticed the drastically changing landscape. Ah, but more of that later…
Engrossing as it was to come up with this list, the intent for writing this was in reality to broach issues of change and adaptation or to put it more colloquially-letting go. I have always faced inertia as the bouncer outside the club that greets you when you are dressed all wrong. It sneers, and declares that it won’t let you pass, such is Inertia and its power. It just doesn’t want to let you pass through the gates into something new and exciting, even when you are all ready to go.
So what do you do? Well, I for one,plan to visit that club oh so often, that the bouncer has to let up and let me through.
Lets it hear for change, lets hear it for something new..!
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