Viprashna

The Contemplator

2010-03-12T19:04:00.000-08:00

A picture is worth a thousand words, no doubt. But someone like Dostoevsky rises above such clichés and how -

"Only rarely did he speak. If at that time it had occurred to someone to ask, looking at him, what this fellow was interested in, and what was most often on his mind, it would really have been impossible to tell from looking at him. Yet he would sometimes stop in the house, or else in the yard or the street, fall into thought, and stand like that even for ten minutes. A physiognomist, studying him, would have said that his face showed neither thought nor reflection, but just some sort of of contemplation. The painter Kramskoy has a remarkable painting entitled The Contemplator. It depicts a forest in winter, and in the forest, standing all by himself on the road, in deepest solitude, a stray little peasant in a ragged caftan and bast shoes; he stands as if he were lost in thought, but he is not thinking, he is "contemplating" something. If you nudged him, he would give a start and look at you as if he had just woken up, but without understanding anything. It's true that he would come to himself at once, and yet, if he were asked what he had been thinking about while standing there, he would most likely not remember, but would most likely keep hidden away in himself the impression he had been under while contemplating. These impressions are dear to him, and he is most likely storing them up imperceptibly and even without realizing it -- why and what for, of course, he does not know either; perhaps suddenly, having stored up his impressions over many years, he will drop everything and wander off to Jerusalem to save his soul, or perhaps he will suddenly burn down his native village, or perhaps he will do both. There are plenty of contemplators among the people. Most likely Smerdyakov, too, was such a contemplator, and most likely he, too, was greedily storing up his impressions, almost without knowing why himself."

Anza-Borrego

2009-04-06T01:16:00.000-07:00

A reflecting rock (Meant both figuratively and literally)

Took it on a trail today in Anza Borrego Desert. Went there to see the wildflowers. Managed to click some snaps even though they are past their peak now -

Also spotted a red diamond Rattle snake on the return journey

Wednesdays

2009-03-11T20:40:00.001-07:00

A month ago - I was in Paris, wandering through the mazes of Louvre on Wednesday.

3 Wednesdays ago - In Goa. Buying lots of stuff for 'paach-paratavana'* in Mapusa market.

2 Wednesdays ago - In Delhi. Eating Papad Paratha in parathewali gali.

After coming back, getting used to routine and as another anonymous Wednesday - that day where the week is half full is about to go by; all those Wednesdays appear more distant than they actually are :(. The rate at which one gets back to routine and feels nothing about it is alarmingly amazing :).

[*Since there are no non-veg food items allowed in a Konkani wedding, there is a special meal arranged after 4-5 days which is mostly non-vegetarian. As the wedding was set in a small village, almost everyone staying there was invited. So we'd to buy stuff like half a sack of mussels, 4 huge Surmais (king mackerels) that cost around 5000 in total, 30 kg Chicken, X kg of various sabzis, 20 odd coconuts amongst other things. The food, cooked at home with neighbor's help was amazing.]

Metaphorical shadows

2008-12-14T06:45:00.000-08:00

It is interesting how a certain metaphor can transcend cultural and physical boundaries. Granted that all the broad human emotions are the same world over and as a result, the recurrence of particular theme should not be surprising. [The lines written by William Blake - Every Night and every Morn, Some to Misery are Born; Every Morn and every Night, Some are Born to sweet delight and 'मुखी कुणाच्या पडते लोणी, कुणा मुखी अंगार' by Gadima talk of one concept in slightly different ways.] But when the same metaphor is used across different languages, the similarity is quite striking. (Does this also pose a question mark on the opening statement of Anna Karenina viz. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.?)

The recurring metaphor is for loneliness, no one but your shadow to accompany you.

1. Saaya hi apne saath tha, saaya hi apne saath hai - Jaane kahan gaye woh din
2. My shadow's the only one that walks beside me - Greenday
3. Gum ke maare pukare kise hum, hum se bichhada hamara hi saaya - Dil Apna aur preet parai

Of course, there could be many more such examples. No 'shadow' of a doubt there.

History repeating itself

2008-08-11T02:21:00.000-07:00

Bindra wins gold. We are, of course, very proud of him.
At the same time, India is about to lose to Sri Lanka. The cricinfo live commentary is filled with user inputs demanding the sacking of 3/4th team.

...

Tomorrow, most of the editors will put these two things in perspective. In their editorials lamenting about the state of other sports in India. They will be happy with their clever observation, paradox etc. Readers will click their tongues, say Tchk Tchk or something to that effect. And agree in general about the whole thing over a cup of tea.

...

Olympic gets over on Aug 24th. After the brief euphoria, declaration of land/cash prizes and motor-parade home; most will switch to Champions Trophy starting in September.

...

Now replace Bindra by Seshan and Cricket by Corruption in above example. Continue the exercise. Draw conclusions. Comment and Lament. Feel as smug and as witty as the editors. Now you are free to forget and move on :).

...

An attraction named Mumbai

2008-02-05T00:34:00.000-08:00

I waited for the question and it came, sprayed with the requisite dash of wonderment. From India? Bombay, I said, and sat back smugly in my mind waiting for the Pavlovian effect that I knew this association with Shangri-La would awaken in the veins of young male Pakistanis who have never visited this burdened, heroic city except via their dreams and the 70 mm screen.

If I had said Mars or New York or London I would have lost my audience right away. But I had said Bombay. Bling Bling. Within minutes of being asked whether or not I had met various filmstars and being told that he was the proud owner of a bottle of Shah Rukh perfume, Fawad stuttered out a proposition. It wasn't a marriage proposal, but it was as suicidal. Would I join him, his cousins and friends in the stands to see for myself, first-hand, how much Pakistanis love Indians?

-- Nina Martyris from 'Cricketing Ties'

What a day!

2008-01-19T02:16:00.000-08:00

What a day for watching sports! India managing to end Australia's 16-0 streak once more. At the same time on the opposite coast, Federer winning a marathon 4.5 hour match against Tipsarevic despite not being at his best. Watching both the matches at the same time - one on laptop, another on TV was...great.

I just hope Chargers do an India and end the 17-0 streak of Patriots. That'd make a perfect weekend :)

Reading and references

2007-12-08T04:55:00.000-08:00

Finished reading Lolita and picked up ‘The Kite Runner’ (Intend to finish it before movie releases). Lolita, though exceptionally well-written; was at times difficult to read since Nabokov liberally uses French sentences and expressions and not commonly used words in English. Top it with the references made to Russian dancers and French authors; and you are left with the choice of either searching online dictionaries and wikipedia or plowing through undaunted with the strange unsettling feeling that something important has been left out. I won’t go as far as in saying that it is annoying [akin to one you feel when you know that someone is trying to hide something from you or just considers you not smart enough to understand it]; but it does leave me with an after-taste of mild dissatisfaction.

Reading ‘The Kite Runner’ after Lolita could not have been pleasanter. Most of the Farsi words are explained, but there are still quite a few (like pari, mard) which the author does not bother to explain. Apart from the words, being an Indian I think I understand the way the Afghans lived twenty five years ago; their customs like respecting the elders and festivals like kite-flying; the social hierarchy, the way people think and talk – better than say, an average western reader.

The pictures that are formed subconsciously in my mind as I read it are far clearer than reading Lolita. (As a crude example; I can envisage a Mumbai train station far more clearly than say, a London tube station – assuming that both the descriptions are equally well-written.) Of course, not a small part of this is due to the fact that the book is written in flowing, captivating style; but the familiarity of the background and characters plays more important role.

By extension, I can say same thing about reading in Marathi as opposed to English. The references, the descriptions – at least most of the times, form so clear-cut images that there is little gap between reading and comprehending. (I fail to think of a better example, but it is like regular intake of medicine vs. injecting it through IV.)

This fact also seems to affect my speed of reading and ability to concentrate/ read through the pages without any distraction for these two languages. It is a well known fact that when we read, our eyes don’t try to take in each and every alphabet. Moreover, a group of three-four words is read at a time in a kind of hopping fashion. It is my conjecture, that one reason I can read faster in Marathi is the ability of my mind – of course due to longer exposure to the language – is better developed to fill in the gaps between the alphabets (or syllables in case of Indian languages), guesstimate the word or group of words, take in their meaning and form pictures before the mind’s eye after comparing with the feelings, places, things, references stored somewhere on the brain’s hard-drive.

Now that I have written it down; it appears to me that it is too obvious to state it :). However, it prompted me to think in another direction – when can one say that he/she has command over a particular language? The usual criterion is the ability to read/write/speak that language well. But, there might be more to it. Even if you are confidently able to read/write/speak a language other than your mother-tongue; it still takes some more time to develop an ability to start thinking in that language. So far, I believed that would be the last step in mastering a language. It is in fact true for all practical purposes.

Still, there is that tiny part – the unfamiliarity of the culture that language is part of. (Example of English is not much useful in this case, since it has ceased to be language spoken only by the natives of England long back) which does not allow you to get complete ‘feel’ of the language. It is not a major hindrance but it will prevent you from understanding at least some things completely since you will miss out on the references which are quintessentially part of that culture and hence, of that language. This is the most challenging part when you attempt a translation – especially between two culturally unrelated languages.

This, of course is just an observation [and it sounds sillier and more obvious to me each time I write it :(] and this limitation should not prevent us taking up a book in a different language. However, we should brace ourselves to accept the fact that there might be at least a very tiny fraction of it which would remain unclear to us.

Lolita

2007-12-04T02:10:00.000-08:00

currently reading Lolita. Controversial topic, but brilliant word-play and story-telling by Nabokov. One such striking sentence -

There was in the fiery phantasm a perfection which made my wild delight also perfect, just because the vision was out of reach, with no possibility of
attainment to spoil it by the awareness of an appended taboo; indeed, it may well be
that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of
pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promised--the great rosegray never-to-be-had.

To the City of Bombay

2007-07-02T17:07:00.000-07:00

"The Cities are full of pride,
Challenging each to each—
This from her mountain-side,
That from her burthened beach.
They count their ships full tale—
Their corn and oil and wine,
Derrick and loom and bale,
And rampart’s gun-flecked line;
City by City they hail:
“Hast aught to match with mine?”

And the men that breed from them
They traffic up and down,
But cling to their cities’ hem
As a child to their mother’s gown.

When they talk with the stranger bands,
Dazed and newly alone;
When they walk in the stranger lands,
By roaring streets unknown;
Blessing her where she stands
For strength above their own.

(On high to hold her fame
That stands all fame beyond,
By oath to back the same,
Most faithful-foolish-fond;
Making her mere-breathed name
Their bond upon their bond.)

So thank I God my birth
Fell not in isles aside—
Waste headlands of the earth,
Or warring tribes untried—
But that she lent me worth
And gave me right to pride.

Surely in toil or fray
Under an alien sky,
Comfort it is to say:
“Of no mean city am I!”

(Neither by service nor fee
Come I to mine estate—
Mother of Cities to me,
For I was born in her gate,
Between the palms and the sea,
Where the world-end steamers wait.)

Now for this debt I owe,
And for her far-borne cheer
Must I make haste and go
With tribute to her pier.

And she shall touch and remit
After the use of kings
(Orderly, ancient, fit)
My deep-sea plunderings,
And purchase in all lands.
And this we do for a sign
Her power is over mine,
And mine I hold at her hands!"

-- Rudyard Kipling, 1894

Now, would he be deemed as an outsider today?

The Religiousness of Science

2007-03-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

The individual feels the nothingness of human desires and aims and the sublimity and marvellous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in the world of thought. He looks upon individual existence as a sort of prison and wants to experience the universe as a single significant whole. The beginnings of cosmic religious feeling already appear in earlier stages of development—e.g., in many of the Psalms of David and in some of the Prophets. Buddhism, as we have learnt from the wonderful writings of Schopenhauer especially, contains a much stronger element of it.

The religious geniuses of all ages have been distinguished by this kind of religious feeling, which knows no dogma and no God conceived in man's image; so that there can be no Church whose central teachings are based on it. Hence it is precisely among the heretics of every age that we find men who were filled with the highest kind of religious feeling and were in many cases regarded by their contemporaries as Atheists, sometimes also as saints. Looked at in this light, men like Democritus, Francis of Assisi, and Spinoza are closely akin to one another.

...

How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this feeling and keep it alive in those who are capable of it...A man's ethical behaviour should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear and punishment and hope of reward after death.

...

But the scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation. The future, to him, is every whit as necessary and determined as the past. There is nothing divine about morality, it is a purely human affair. His religious feeling takes the form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. This feeling is the guiding principle of his life and work, in so far as he succeeds in keeping himself from the shackles of selfish desire. It is beyond question closely akin to that which has possessed the religious geniuses of all ages.

Chapter: The Religiousness of Science
Title: The World As I See It
Author: Albert Einstein
Complete text here.

Writers and the first hand experience

2007-02-03T18:01:00.000-08:00

"As to life in a prison, of course there may be two opinions," said the prince. "I once heard the story of a man who lived twelve years in a prison --I heard it from the man himself. He was one of the persons under treatment with my professor; he had fits, and attacks of melancholy, then he would weep, and once he tried to commit suicide. His life in prison was sad enough; his only acquaintances were spiders and a tree that grew outside his grating - but I think I had better tell you of another man I met last year. There was a very strange feature in this case, strange because of its extremely rare occurrence. This man had once been brought to the scaffold in company with several others, and had had the sentence of death by shooting passed upon him for some political crime. Twenty minutes later he had been reprieved and some other punishment substituted; but the interval between the two sentences, twenty minutes, or at least a quarter of an hour, had been passed in the certainty that within a few minutes he must die. I was very anxious to hear him speak of his impressions during that dreadful time, and I several times inquired of him as to what he thought and felt. He remembered everything with the most accurate and extraordinary distinctness, and declared that he would never forget a single iota of the experience." About twenty paces from the scaffold, where he had stood to hear the sentence, were three posts, fixed in the ground, to which to fasten the criminals (of whom there were several). The first three criminals were taken to the posts, dressed in long white tunics, with white caps drawn over their faces, so that they could not see the rifles pointed at them. Then a group of soldiers took their stand opposite to each post. My friend was the eighth on the list, and therefore he would have been among the third lot to go up. A priest went about among them with a cross: and there was about five minutes of time left for him to live."

He said that those five minutes seemed to him to be a most interminable period, an enormous wealth of time; he seemed to believing, in these minutes, so many lives that there was no need as yet to think of that last moment, so that he made several arrangements, dividing up the time into portions--one for saying farewell to his companions, two minutes for that; then a couple more for thinking over his own life and career and all about himself; and another minute for a last look around. He remembered having divided his time like this quite well. While saying good-bye to his friends he recollected asking one of them some very usual everyday question, and being much interested in the answer. Then having bade farewell, he embarked upon those two minutes which he had allotted to looking into himself; he knew beforehand what he was going to think about. He wished to put it to himself as quickly and clearly as possible, that here was he, a living, thinking man, and that in three minutes he would be nobody; or if somebody or something, then what and where? He thought he would decide this question once for all in these last three minutes. A little way off there stood a church, and its gilded spire glittered in the sun. He remembered staring stubbornly at this spire, and at the rays of light sparkling from it. He could not tear his eyes from these rays of light; he got the idea that these rays were his new nature, and that in three minutes he would become one of them, amalgamated somehow with them." The repugnance to what must ensue almost immediately, and the uncertainty, were dreadful, he said; but worst of all was the idea, 'What should I do if I were not to die now? What if I were to return to life again? What an eternity of days, and all mine! How I should grudge and count up every minute of it, so as to waste not a single instant!' He said that this thought weighed so upon him and became such a terrible burden upon his brain that he could not bear it, and wished they would shoot him quickly and have done with it."

The prince paused and all waited, expecting him to go on again and finish the story.
"Is that all?" asked Aglaya.
"All? Yes," said the prince, emerging from a momentary reverie.
"And why did you tell us this?"
"Oh, I happened to recall it, that's all! It fitted into the conversation--"
"You probably wish to deduce, prince," said Alexandra, "that moments of time cannot be reckoned by money value, and that sometimes five minutes are worth priceless treasures. All this is very praiseworthy; but may I ask about this friend of yours, who told you the terrible experience of his life? He was reprieved, you say; in other words, they did restore to him that 'eternity of days.' What did he do with these riches of time? Did he keep careful account of his minutes?"
"Oh no, he didn't! I asked him myself. He said that he had not lived a bit as he had intended, and had wasted many, and many a minute."
"Very well, then there's an experiment, and the thing is proved; one cannot live and count each moment; say what you like, but one cannot."
"That is true," said the prince, "I have thought so myself. And yet, why shouldn't one do it?"

-- Taken from 'The Idiot' by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, who is considered as one of the greatest writers of 19th century, himself was such a man, having experienced the mock execution arranged by Nicholas I to punish 'Petrashevsky Circle'.

I guess this could very well be considered as the turning point of Dostoevsky’s literary career. After this harrowing experience, he wrote master-pieces like ‘Crime and punishment’, ‘The idiot’ and ‘The brothers Karamazov’; no doubt thoroughly moved by it.

It is a matter of debate whether to write extra-ordinarily, your life should be eventful or whether it is the genius of his mind that can recreate any emotion without experiencing it (somewhat similar to the debate whether the circumstances shape a person or his intrinsic/innate qualities) ; but I am pretty sure the second category is the rarest of the rare. It is, in fact, very difficult to catch the emotions experienced by you effectively in the first place and very few can achieve that.

In that sense, we see why the English literature is so rich as compared to almost any other language, barring perhaps French and Russian. English speaking people went to all the corners of the world, and expressed it through their writings. Indian writers, on the contrary, are woefully short of such ‘happening’ lives. Do we have a Hemingway or Sartre who fought actually in the war, a Dostoevsky whose writings have such a conceivable shadow of death, or even someone less illustrious like Jared Diamond who roamed around the world researching the evolutionary biology?

Of course, I don’t think there is anything to feel ashamed about it. As a society starting to wake up late from its slumber and daunting problems like poverty and foreign rule, we are at disadvantage in this regard. However, things are changing for sure. As Indians – or for that matter, people from the third world countries are getting used to the globalization, living a more complex life – it is getting reflected in their works. Recent example would be Kiran Desai’s ‘Inheritance of loss’ or Orhan Pamuk – whose works portraying the identity crisis felt by the Turkish people in the struggle between western and age old principles, getting recognition at the highest level.

A look at the Nobel Prize winners for literature shows almost total domination of English and few other European languages. But, considering the recent trends, we can safely say that the new century, belongs to the third world that was unable to find its voice hitherto.

Saddam, Nithari and UP

2007-01-04T23:20:00.000-08:00

Here is a video of Samajwadi party workers attacking their own country-men to protest Saddam's execution. I wonder, why they are not protesting against the Nithari incident or for that matter callous remarks such as these.

But Also

2006-11-27T18:56:00.000-08:00

From this article in wikipedia -

Salam died at 70 in Oxford in 1996, after a long illness. He was buried (without any official protocol) in Rabwah, Pakistan.

Professor Salam was a devout muslim who belonged to the Ahmadiyya Community and therefore Abdus Salam is not sufficiently recognized by the Pakistani government for being country's first and only Nobel Laureate. In 1998, the government issued a stamp with his picture but only as part of the series of stamps "Scientists of Pakistan" and not specially dedicated to him

and more from a column by Ardeshir Cowasjee in Dawn (which prompted me to write this post) -

This community was finally (the exercise began in 1953) shorn of its majority rights and declared a non-Muslim minority after it had existed as part of the majority since the birth of the country in 1947.
...
Sadly, and most undeservedly, in the early 1990s he suffered a rare nervous disease which affected his speech and his bodily movements, leaving his mind perfectly clear. He died in1996, his body was brought back to Pakistan, and he was buried in Rabhwa, later renamed Chenab Nagar by that great ‘liberal’ Punjab chief minister Shahbaz Sharif. Renowned internationally as the only ‘Muslim Nobel Laureate,’ this fact is denied in Pakistan, where his gravestone has been amended to comically read ‘The First blankety-blank Nobel Laureate,’ the word Muslim having been brutally erased.

Tragic, to say the least.

It may not be entirely evident, but I find this case of banishing the Ahmadiyya community from Islam to be strangely similar to the demand by hard-liner Hindu organizations to consider Jains, Sikhs and even Buddhists to be a part of Hindu religion against their wishes. [See this link for an example. Little more googling would yield many such links.]

I read somewhere, that the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) are characterized by 'BUT' whereas Hinduism by 'ALSO' -- meaning they differ in the way people not belonging to that particular religion are viewed (exclusion as opposed to assimilation or it might refer to the fact Hinduism admits that there are other ways ALSO to reach the almighty; whereas Abrahmic religions insist that there is none BUT theirs). Is it not evident in the seemingly opposite ways taken by the extremists of each religion to achieve the same purpose - viz. to force their opinions/ideas of what the religious minority should consider itself to be?

Orhan Pamuk

2006-10-13T22:39:00.000-07:00

That said, the drama we see unfolding is not, I think, a grotesque and inscrutable drama peculiar to Turkey; rather, it is an expression of a new global phenomenon that we are only just coming to acknowledge and that we must now begin, however slowly, to address. In recent years, we have witnessed the astounding economic rise of India and China, and in both these countries we have also seen the rapid expansion of the middle class, though I do not think we shall truly understand the people who have been part of this transformation until we have seen their private lives reflected in novels. Whatever you call these new élites—the non-Western bourgeoisie or the enriched bureaucracy—they, like the Westernizing élites in my own country, feel compelled to follow two separate and seemingly incompatible lines of action in order to legitimatize their newly acquired wealth and power. First, they must justify the rapid rise in their fortunes by assuming the idiom and the attitudes of the West; having created a demand for such knowledge, they then take it upon themselves to tutor their countrymen. When the people berate them for ignoring tradition, they respond by brandishing a virulent and intolerant nationalism. The disputes that a Flaubert-like outside observer might call bizarreries may simply be the clashes between these political and economic programs and the cultural aspirations they engender. On the one hand, there is the rush to join the global economy; on the other, the angry nationalism that sees true democracy and freedom of thought as Western inventions.

- Orhan Pamuk, Winner of 2006 Nobel Prize in literature. Taken from the article in The New Yorker, which you can read in full here

Also, from the same source - The Pamuk Apartments

Update: Have attempted to translate this entire article in Marathi. You can read it here.

Youth is wasted on the young?

2006-08-30T20:30:00.000-07:00

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it. - Maugham

Update:

Complete text here, taken from 'Of Human bondage'

"He did not know how wide a country, arid and precipitous, must be crossed before the traveller through life comes to an acceptance of reality. It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched, for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who lookback upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life. They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail driven into the body on the cross of life. The strange thing is that each one who has gone through that bitter
disillusionment adds to it in his turn, unconsciously, by the power within him which is stronger than himself."

not beating around the Bush

2006-08-06T14:01:00.000-07:00

President Bush making fun of himself. The google video is here.

Bombay Dreams

2006-06-18T23:51:00.000-07:00

Bombay dreams - Cover story by Time magazine. Good article, except the goof-up where it says the former name of the Bombay was Mumbai. :)

Update :
The multi-media show by Time

'bear'ly a cat

2006-06-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

I am sure satodias from the Dalal street would love this cat.

About quarter life crisis

2006-05-17T03:57:00.000-07:00

Just wrote my first post on vichaar-manthan about Quarter life crisis. You can read it here.

In the end

2006-04-03T02:08:00.000-07:00

* I am following 3rd ODI between England and India on Cricinfo. The two ends of the stadium are named as - Church end and Swimming pool end. How very Goan!

* Interesting stuff by Mid-day about how to be a page 3 regular.

* Sunil More, a cop from Mumbai, who raped a 17-year old girl in police station is finally found guilty and has been sentenced to 12 years' rigorous imprisonment (plus fined Rs 26,500 to be paid as compensation to the victim for the agony suffered by her. Am I reading it correctly? Few years ago, the government gave away Rs. 1 lakh each to family members of those who died due to drinking poisonous arak).

But to borrow words from NDTV's report - But the image of India's most liberal city, its most famous promenade and its police force, had been deeply scarred.

Three parties, identities and the biggest problem India is facing.

2006-03-21T00:57:00.000-08:00

This was the week-end of parties and events. Started with St. Patrick's Day party at my friend Danielle's house where she and her frieds baked yummy cup-cakes after the assorted appetizers and other Irish food. Then on Saturday to all guys desi party to celebrate a friend's birthday in La Jolla brew house. And on Sunday, Rang-Panchami (holi) celebrations at Lake Poway organized by San Diego Maharashtra Mandal. Three different events, three different identities - each subset of the previous one. Interesting.:-)

On a totally different note, everything about Tendulkar gets magnified - good, bad or ugly. After the Endulkar debate, now it seems the biggest quandary we are facing is why the Wankhede crowd booed the little master. Amongst all this brouhaha in newspapers, sites and blogs; this article in Hindu stands out in its clear analysis.

Sports (in)activities and some ethical questions

2006-03-12T05:06:00.000-08:00

Ricky Ponting has removed all doubts, if any, as to who is currently the best batsman with his inning of 164 in just 105 balls, which propelled Australia to the highest ODI total of 434 for 4. What makes it extra special is the timing of the inning. With Australia managing to come from behind to make it 2-2 after losing the first two games (and 20-20 match before that), Ponting has virtually sealed the fate of the series with his sensational inning. (and though Gibbs has just scored a wonderful century, South Africa still has a mountain to climb.) Three years ago, he did the same in the World cup final scoring 140 not out against India which helped Australia to 356 - the highest total in World cup final history. This man has an amazing sense for the occasion - who can forget his twin centuries in his 100th Test match, which gave Aussies 2-0 victory over South Africa.

Needless to say, he is in the purplest of the patches in his career and threatens to break the record for most no. of runs and centuries in Test matches in few years; if his amazing run over the last few years is considered. This article is just another statistical indication to it.

The loss of Ashes to England is perhaps the lowest point in his recent career. It may sound like a cliché; however it was the game which came out as the winner in the end. See some of these links - The comprehensive video clip with some quintessentially British comments, the Super slow motion musical video and the short video of the Ashes.

Continuing with Ashes series - just came across these lines from a song in The Lord of the Rings mentioned on Ajit's blog and thought they would very well apply to the resurgent English team.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

Some may claim that India-Pakistan series is now greater than the Ashes, but comparing the high-scoring and high-snoring draws with the exciting cricket played in Ashes is just absurd.

Anyway, almost everyone was happy seeing the rude and swaggering Australians losing for a change, which makes me wonder - why do we mix two separate virtues of winning ability and being modest? I am no exception to this tendency, but somehow it always strikes me as bit odd. To stretch this point bit further, I think it is not unfair that someone who is unscrupulous or immoral to be rich. This is something contradictory to our typical middle-class upbringing/ethos, but being ethical and being rich are two different things. It is pointless to wail that I have remained poor/middle-class despite being ethical all my life. Apart from the argument that goodness is its own reward, just being kind and lawful need not mean you will be successful. It is, of course possible to be successful and yet remain down to earth and moral, but the converse need not be true and those who are successful but not modest deserve the success no less.

Back to sports after bit of digression. The last month or so has been watching-the-sports-on-TV-for-hours month for me. With the (American) football season play-offs, India - Pakistan series, Australian Open and then the Winter Olympics, meant many sleepless nights and showing up next day on job red eyed. I distinctly remember one week-end when I watched a football game followed by a tennis match followed by live cricket. Total time spent? Only 12 hours - just the time someone in his mid-twenties is advised to spend in sports-related activities per month. (Reference: A pamphlet given at the gym that I joined few months back with high hopes, but things just don’t seem to 'work out'.):-(

Republic Day wishes

2006-01-26T05:09:00.000-08:00

Happy Republic Day!

Couple of videos for the day - Jana Gana Mana and Vande Mataram.

I read somewhere that Netaji Subhashchandra Bose had this very day in his mind as our Independence day. Azad Hind Sena celebrated 26 January 1943 thus in Germany.

Indibloggies contest and Internet in Indian languages

2006-01-16T02:19:00.000-08:00

My blog on Marathi Literature was selected as the best Marathi blog in a contest organized by Indibloggies. I would like to thank all the readers and bloggers for visiting my blog and their comments.

When I started this blog, there were very few Marathi blogs and I was bit skeptical about the response my blog would muster. Another challenge was trying to avoid the monotony; which was bit difficult as the blog revolved around one subject. However, the response so far has taken me by surprise. It does not necessarily reflect on the quality of the blog, but I am glad that there are over 3600 pageloads now since I started keeping the track of visitors from Sept 2005. The major reason, I guess, is the exponential rise in the number of people writing in Marathi - from the handful of them few months back; the figure now stands around 200.

It augurs well for the digital revolution in regional languages. So far, English has been the lingua franca for Indian netizens; but slowly and surely there is rising a class which prefers to communicate in their respective mothertongues. It is bit cumbersome to type in Indian languages, as the fonts and/or keypads are not uniform; but despite that many are attempting to express themselves through the language they are most comfortable with. It is too early to say that the regional languages have made their presence felt online; but the progress is certainly in the right direction. When I was in Seoul few years back while coming to San Diego, I noticed that most of the computers in the airport terminal had Korean keyboards and people used them very comfortably. While it is difficult to envisage a Tamil or a Bengali keyboard in near future; it should not be very tough to have entire OS/softwares in them. Microsoft has come up with BhashaIndia project, but I think a lot more could be done in this regard.

I need not explain how knowledge will play the most important role in the future economic development. English, though it is rightfully considered as the window to knowledge, won't open very easily for a huge section of our populace that is first-generation school-goers. What better way to combine the most effective tool of information to deliver knowledge to them in their own language?

Goongy Gudiya and Ibsen

2006-01-10T00:46:00.000-08:00

After the demise of Pt. Nehru, when Indira Gandhi took over the Congress Party; she was nick-named Goongy Gudiya (a dumb doll) by the party veterans; who thought that she would be just a puppet in their hands. It is a different story that the ensuing events proved their predictions miserably incorrect; but the analogy of Gudiya meaning a doll in Hindi was quite apt.

Few years ago, I happened to read a translated version of Ibsen's ground-breaking play called 'A doll's house' (written some 125 years ago). The protagonist, Nora, leaves her husband who treats her like a doll rather than a person with emotions and begins her quest for her true self.

If you are following the recent news of sad demise of Gudiya; you will get the connection. Much has been written about state of women in India, the panchayat (village counsel) system of justice and lately the media hype surrounding the whole incident; so it will be mere repetition if I write more about that here. However, couple of points are worth pondering. First of all, you can clearly see the print media denouncing the electronic media for cheap journalism. Though the allegations are substantially correct; to me the apparent divide between the two and the effort to try claiming the high ground appears as a form of survival attempt. The other thing is all media provides fodder to any minor controversy/small event, makes every attempt to make an Everest out of mole-hill and in the end blames the outcome such as in this case on the hype without the slightest hint of acknowledging the apparent hypocrisy.

A year that was

2005-12-29T00:45:00.000-08:00

Let us spare a moment for these people and many such around the world while we are getting ready to welcome 2006. Wish you all a very happy new year. (It is almost pointless / mechanical to wish thus, but what the heck.) Hoping to read good posts in 2006 as well.

Being narrow-minded

2005-12-25T03:17:00.000-08:00

Universe is huge beyond our imagination, and mankind not even a droplet in this ocean. (Read more here.) It is a humbling feeling when we consider how insignificant we are. However in everyday life we cannot afford to have this viewpoint. Life is a struggle at each step and you have to be 'narrow-minded' in a sense. (This again is a bit of extension of previous post. My argument for not doing anything simply because I am not the one who has choices will do me no good.)

While thinking this, it struck me that it is somewhat analogous to the case of arguably two of the greatest scientists ever - Newton and Einstein. Einstein might have revolutionized our perceptions about the universe, time, dimensions et al and might have proved Newton's laws wrong (inadequate would be a better word, perhaps); but the activities that usually take place around us are still governed by Newton's laws. [Newton dealt with 'world'ly things, Einstein with universal ones. :)] Newton's laws might be outdated and 'narrow', but they are the ones which rule our lives mostly.

Chores, Illusions, Probability and some thoughts

2005-12-19T17:22:00.000-08:00

I hate to do small chores. Usually, when a ‘to-do’ thing props up its ugly head it is not urgent. As I trust explicitly in not doing any work today which could be postponed till tomorrow, my list of to-dos keeps on growing. It might be as big as taking care of my car or as small as adding some features to my blogs, if it can wait then wait it must. But one fine day, I realize that things are getting out of my hand and everything around me is un-organized. Very diligently, I plan out my entire day (usually Saturday) as I did this time. At the end of the day, I was exhausted after driving for couple of hours, lifting heavy furniture, spending three-four hours assembling it, cooking, cleaning and doing laundry; but satisfied that at least a major part of my to-do list has been taken care of. The next day, Sudhamshu asks me why I don’t have links to my other blogs on Viprashna. Actually, this is something which was back of my mind for a long time, but for some reasons it was at this particular time when it was to materialize.

Does that mean it was never really my choice? From the moment this universe came into existence, I was supposed to do these things at a particular time in a particular manner. You were supposed to read these words precisely at this time. If someone rolls back the clock of the universe completely, then all the major or minor events that shaped the universe will take place the same way and everything that you and I did today will be repeated exactly in the same manner. We might appear to change some things, but even that is a small part we were supposed to play. This factor of inevitability reminds me of a story of a small bird, who is scared to death seeing Yama, the God of death staring at him intently. A kind Garuda (Eagle) takes pity on him and escorts him faraway to the Himalayas. After returning back he asks Yama, “Why were you bothering that poor kid?” Yama answers, “I knew his imminent death was written in the Himalayas in an accident. I was just wondering how in a matter of few minutes, this poor bird will make it there. But you solved my dilemma.”

The thought that we really do not have any choice, somehow does not scare me as much now as it did few years back when as an idle teenager, I first pondered over this. I don’t know if it is a state of resignation or convenient ignorance. Einstein famously said God does not play dice with the universe. Different people interpret it in a different manner. The view that appeals me the most is, that sub-consciously even his mind could not accept the fact that there is randomness in the world. It was his yearning to make sense out of the chaos termed as universe that appeared in that great mind’s eye. (By the way, I am not exactly sure, but I feel probability and randomness are not exactly synonyms. Probability is not random. Taking the example of dice, for a small set of plays the rolling of a die might appear random but at some point the probability of all possible options must be the same. So even playing dice is not entirely random, isn’t it?)

I do not claim that these are my original thoughts. The question of ‘Koham (Who am I?)’ echoes through most of the religious literature. The desire to know the past, the future and the purpose of our existence, not just as an individual, but as a mankind are quite old and much has been written about the quest. In fact, our cultures and civilizations are just a part of that bigger quest. Sadly, there are no answers and all religions seem to have reached the conclusion that the answers, if at all they exist, are beyond the realms of human knowledge and understanding. This realization must have hurt our ego as a mankind initially; but over the years we seemed to have either learnt to live with it or have ignored the fact – knowingly and unknowingly – and continued to have lived in an illusion. (This reminds me again of a story of Yudhishthira and the Yaksha in Mahabharata. When four of his younger brothers were dead by drinking the water against the Yaksha’s wishes; he posed four questions to Yudhishthira. One of the questions was, ‘What is the most surprising thing in the world?’ The answer was people continue to live as if they are immortal despite witnessing numerous deaths around them everyday.)

So, everyone lives in an illusion. But no religion seems to ask them to lose it; in stead all the religions demand complete surrender and no questions. Even Bhagavad-Geeta claims that God looks after well-being of those people who completely surrender themselves to him without thinking anything else (ananyaschintayanta mam ye janah paryupasate, tesham nityabhiyuktanam yogakshemam vahamyaham). The dominant reason behind this might be a somewhat justifiable fear that the ‘Doubting Thomases’ might take over and there will be anarchy. The other reason could be the realization that who we are to distinguish between the truth and the illusion. What we consider truth now could just be another illusion.

India: a nation or a country?

2005-12-16T18:25:00.000-08:00

Few events occurring in India in the last month or so are enough to indicate that we still have a long way to go to have an identity as a nation, even after over 58 years of independence. It may be or may not be right to drop our ex-captain from Cricket team so unceremoniously, but the fact that the whole controversy has taken Bengali versus non-Bengali turn is very disturbing. Some of the comments published on open forums like Indiatimes blogs or Rediff are extremely caustic and parochial. This is not a single such incident. I was appalled to read in the news that contestants in various game-shows or talent hunt appealed openly to people from their respective home-states to vote for them. If I am not mistaken, even the Chief Minister of a state asked people to vote for a finalist in the Indian Idol contest.

This feeling of regional identity seems to be pan-Indian (quite ironic, isn’t it?). Interestingly, some sections of people from every community feel that they are not being as ‘provincial’ as other communities, and this is what is hampering their progress. Some of them go as far as in stating that there is a nation-wide conspiracy against their community ‘to keep them down’.

Maharashtrians feel that the so-called ‘outsiders’ have taken over Mumbai and they are left behind in all sectors. Goans feel that if they allow Marathi to be the state-language then people from Maharashtra will take away all their jobs. Bengalis resent the fact that most of the trade in their capital is controlled by the non-Bengalis, whereas ULFA or AGP in neighboring state of Assam claims the same against them. Tamils and Kannadigas fight over the water. The list is endless.

Though by and large the Indian identity is more dominant than the regional one outside India, few of the incidents still show how deeply rooted these boundaries are. To give an example, three new students arrive from India. Seniors duly pick them up from airport and arrange for their temporary accommodation at their home. Imagine their dismay, when these new kids refuse to stay with them only because they belong to ‘different half’ of India and demand to stay with seniors from their state.

It will be too naïve to expect that we will forget all our differences and will consider ourselves only as Indians (or for that matter, just human beings to take it up by one level). The only thing we can attempt is to keep the regional bias to the minimum. By nature, man tends to find someone like him (utpatsyate hi mam kopi samandharma...). Language is just one such criterion. Color of skin, religion, nationality, interests – vested or otherwise, culture, caste, class - so many other things divide us between different groups, and/or bring people sharing common things together.

It is not just a question of regional biases in India; on a bigger scale the question is whether the mankind is ready for globalization in its true sense – not just economically, but as imagined by Tagore (Yatra vishwam bhavatyekaneedam – where the whole world becomes a single nest). The leading cities of the world are not just cosmopolitan in intra-national sense – they are becoming a melting pot with people from all the nationalities. At this juncture of time, soon it will be passé to rue about the loss of regional identity of Mumbai or Bangalore (No, the name change is scheduled to take effect from Nov. 1, 2006 :-)) and the new dilemma would be to preserve their Indian identity. Perhaps, that would bring us tad closer to Indian-ness.

When a dog bites a man...

2005-12-07T22:06:00.000-08:00

Journalism is going to dogs, literally! Please read this article published today in Mid-Day. The so called yellow-journalism seems to be taking over not just tabloids but the reputed newspapers as well and once respected papers like Times of India are going The New York Banner way (Fountainhead) with lots of scandals, gossip and melodramatically concocted headlines.

As a kid, I have heard people advising their children to read editorials from Times of India, if they want to improve their English vocabulary. While that might be still true to some extent, the only thing they might end up learning after reading the paper is what Bipasha Basu likes for her breakfast and how Sachin Tendulkar is the savior of Indian cricket or why he should quit playing altogether (depending on the mood of the writer). The extent of playing to the gallery seems to have gone so far, that it was no wonder the news of Amrita Preetam's death was pushed to some obscure corner and the coverage it received was way less than any other "newsworthy" story like Ms. Amrita Arora spraining her ankle or denying a relationship.

Electronic media is a step or two ahead and in a rat-race of becoming "Sabse Tej" (the fastest) will leave no stone unturned, even if that means barging into I.C.U. to interview the ailing superstar of yesteryears. Thankfully, the vernacular newspapers - at least the reputed ones like Loksatta (Marathi) and Mumbai Samachar (Gujarati), are not getting carried away and are still in touch with the local problems. I hope that's a sign that mentality of our society as a whole is not as crooked as it might appear if one reads the so called leaders of the fourth column.

Back to the front after "Summer of 2005"

2005-10-24T01:54:00.000-07:00

Vacation ends and work begins from tomorrow. July 1st was the last day of my internship. After that, July was a month of interviews. I had to appear for two separate interviews, each around 5-6 hours in span of two days. I got accepted from one group towards the end of July. August was mostly spent resting and working on thesis. From Aug 31 to Sept 9, I explored the East Coast - rather North-East America. (and then South-West a month later.) Visited places like Philadelphia, Hershey, New York, Washington, Boston and Niagara Falls and yes, Canada for half an hour. Already, I have seen more places in US than in India - like been to Statue of Liberty but not yet to Taj Mahal, been to Washington DC but not to Delhi and so on.

While flying back from Boston to San Diego, I was scanning through Sky Magazine when I came across an article about the Indian (Native American) Reservations around Four Corner Monument. (It is called thus because four states - Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New mexico come together at one point; the only such place in USA.) I was quite impressed with the article and the photos and noted the names of the places and related information.

Again, after coming home it was resting and rusting for a while. Read some good books, watched some plays and tried some new restaurants. It was back to good old idyllic student life vacation. Getting up late, staying up late in Night either reading a book or surfing on net, having Lunch at 3 pm etc etc. Going to a nearby lake with coffee and a book to read was my favorite activity and the fact that I no longer needed to set alarm in my cellphone for the next day felt great.

I was actually planning a short trip to Seattle and around, and started researching on net accordingly. After a while, I realized that tours to few of the places which I wanted to visit in the surrounding areas like Mount St. Helens were not available. With my paperwork (needed to start to work) expected to arrive in mail any time, and winter setting in I did not have much time.

I was in two minds when I did some initial planning about the Four corners trip. Money and Safety were the two most important considerations. Money because already my three-month stay at home without any job and the trip to East Coast had left my savings a mere shadow of its former self. On top of that, being under 25 does not help while renting a car. Rental companies charge 20 to 30 dollars extra per day. For my 9 day trip, that alone would mean equivalent to a return air ticket to New York or almost anywhere in mainland US. Also since I was travelling alone, gas and lodging expenses won't be shared. In terms of safety, it was bit risky to go the area where cell-phone reception is non-existent in most of the places due to its remoteness and also where temperature varies from 100F/40C during day to 40F/5C at night.

I continued planning and revising my plans for almost a week or so in this state of ambivalence. Planning for trip is fun. It fills me with a strange sort of excitement and pleasure. You have to consider many factors - cheapest hotels to stay, minimum amount of travel involved, avoiding weekends to go to popular destinations. Also, the order in which you visit the places is quite important. That's the reason I decided to visit Grand Canyon at the second-last day of my trip. Had I visited Grand Canyon first, everything else might have paled in comparison. This way, the trip had a nice crescendo throughout. Again, initially I was planning to drive from San Diego to Chinle, Arizona with stop-over at Phoenix and come back via a different route i.e. Grand Canyon - Las Vegas - Palm Springs, California - San Diego. But then comparing the expenses of gas and staying up an extra night at Phoenix amounted as much as air fare to Phoenix with 350 miles less to drive one way. Also thought that going to Las Vegas would be completely out of character with the nature of this trip, and hence dropped the idea.

The argument in favor of the trip (in my mind) was I won't get another chance like this once I start working - the vacation that I can muster will almost entirely be used for India trip (and even though I won't mind taking a vacation without pay and going for a road-trip, my boss most certainly would considering the workload). This was the right moment in terms of money, time and interest. I had to travel alone because those who could afford did not have time and vice versa. Apart from time and money, I don't think going to deserts and Native American Reservations would feature in top spots of spending vacation for many. The argument against it was money and somewhat a feeling that I have not done anything great to treat myself for two back-to-back long vacations.

But then heart won, all the arguments aside and I convinced myself with Mark Twain's words. "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

In the end, it was probably the most memorable vacation for me. I was alone for nine days but never lonely. As I said, it is not one of the most favorite tourist destinations (of course, except Grand Canyon) and since I was travelling during the normal weekdays, there were not many tourists around. The rock formations, the seemingly endless desert with no sign of any human life around- often I felt as if I were in the wrong Millenium or on the wrong planet. I will need to borrow words from a poem by Ravindranath Tagore to describe how I felt during the trip. I am quite aware that I cannot possibly imagine and use these lines the way Tagore experienced, but lesser mortals like us can only use the ability to quote which is said to be servicable substitute for wit/genius. (Again a quote :)) So with the risk of sounding pompous and preposterous, I would like to say in my own tiny way -

Jabar diney ei kawthati baley Jena jai- Ja dekhechi, ja peyechi tulana tar Nai

(When I leave let these be my parting words: What my eyes have seen, what my life has received, are incomparable.)

My new blog

2005-10-20T00:28:00.000-07:00

Decided to start one more blog to publish my photos. You can check it out here

All the world's a stage

2005-09-21T02:50:00.000-07:00

While in New York couple of weeks ago (This sounds like I am a frequent visitor, but it was my first visit), I watched The Phantom of the Opera. Though I missed few words in couple of songs from this musical, I liked the whole experience. This Sunday, I went to see another Broadway play The King and I at San Diego civic theatre.

What impressed me most in both these plays was the excellent use of technology and the vocal range of the actors. I was vaguely aware of terms like Bass, Baritone and Soprano; but not exactly sure about them. Found this article on Wikipedia which explains them in detail.

Marathi theatre started with musical plays sometimes around 1800. These plays and the songs in them were hugely popular. Apart from the entertainment, many plays like 'ekach pyala' and 'keechak-wadh' successfully sent out strong messages of social reforms to the masses and helped the independence movement. But I think, circa 1940 modern techniques like Brechtian plays and na-natya (could not find the English equivalent for this - when translated it literally means no play) became first more accepted in the intellectual circles and then more popular. I have read many articles by authors who in their childhood and youth, experienced the golden age of Bal-gandharva repenting the fact that not enough was done to strengthen Sangeet Nataks (musicals) while embracing new things. Broadway musicals and Kabuki survived and prospered, but not many local theatres (Yakshagan being an exception, thanks largely to Dr. Shivaram Karanth and to some extent Tiatr in Goa).

While watching these plays and listening to the songs, I dearly missed the good old Natya-sangeet. Though one could still listen to the old songs, it is almost impossible to regain the lost glory and experience.

Thankfully Broadway, San Diego has a number of good plays coming up within next few months like Wicked, Mamma mia and The Lion King. I was in two minds whether to purchase a season ticket which would be good for five upcoming plays except The Lion King having already spent a fortune on these two plays, but then decided to go for it after hesitating for half a minute.

While writing about the theatre and plays, I must tell about the Blue Man group. (I wonder, why it is blue man in stead of blue men). Again, I watched it sitting in the very first row in New York. Initially, I found it little bit weird but then liked it later on. These guys are absolutely terrific. The show itself is a combination of music (from rock to PVC pipes), some animated tricks and involving audience. First few rows are equipped with plastic hoods. At the end of the show, my hood was covered with blue paint and pulped bananas. Here is a link if you wish to watch some of their videos.

'Darkness at Noon' and 'For whom the bell tolls'

2005-09-13T01:34:00.000-07:00

'I don't approve of mixing ideologies,' Ivanov continued. 'There are two conceptions of human ethics, and they are at opposite poles. One of them is Christian and humane, declares the individual to be sacrosanct, and asserts that the rules of arithmetic are not to be applied to human units. The other starts from the basic principle that a collective aim justifies all means, and not only allows, but demands, that the individual should in every way be subordinated and sacrificed to the community - which may dispose of it as an experimentation rabbit or a sacrificial lamb. The first conception could be called anti-vivisection morality, the second, vivisection morality. Humbugs and dilettantes have always tried to mix the two conceptions; in practice, it is impossible. Whoever is burdened with power and responsibility finds out on the first occasion that he has to choose; and he is fatally driven to the second alternative. Do you know, since the establishment of Christianity as a state religion, a single example of state which really followed a Christian policy? You can't point out one. In times of need- and politics are chronically in a time of need - the rulers were always able to evoke "exceptional circumstances", which demanded exceptional measures of defence. Since the existence of nations and classes, they live in a permanent state of mutual self-defence, which forces them to defer to another time the putting into practice of humanism....'

-- Taken from the chapter 'The Second Hearing' of 'Darkness at Noon' by Arthur Koestler.

I took two books with me to read while travelling to East Coast. (which proved to be a wise decision, as I missed my first flight and had to wait for 5 hours to catch the next.) The first one was 'For whom the bell tolls' by Hemingway and the other 'Darkness at noon.' I did not have any idea about the subjects of these books and did not imagine that they could be related to each other in a strange way.

Both the books were published in 1940. In 'For whom the bell tolls', Hemingway portrays the struggle of left-wing group against the fascist forces during the Spanish Civil war. The protagonist is an American fighting for the Republican army.

'Darkness at Noon' on the other hand is based on infamous Moscow trials in which Stalin 'purged' the party and the armed forces. This book has many paragraphs, like one given above, which could very well apply to what is happening now.

Rise and fall of Communism could be considered as the most important event of 20th century, barring perhaps the two World wars. I was thrilled to read two great books which revolved around its two opposite facets.

Independence day function, Mangal Pande and some snaps

2005-08-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

1. We celebrated Independence day at SDSU. As usual, there was a Power Point presentation about India, folk dances from each state, patriotic songs and few short speeches by Indian Professors on campus. All in all, a good event. Here is a photo taken with my room-mates, Ameya (in black) and Aditya (in white) standing next to me at the function.

2. Also watched the Mangal Pande movie in the evening. Okish, not as good as Lagaan. A funny thought crossed my mind - It would be so ironic, if after watching a movie in which the protagonist revolts once he finds out that the cartridges use cow and pig fat, few members of same nationality in the audience have had beef/pork dinner in the Steakhouse across the street. So much has changed in 150 years.

3. Returned the book Zen and art of motorcycle maintenance to library without completing it. I usually do not like to leave any book mid-way, but this time I had to return this book within a short time and for some reason could not concentrate while reading it. Found it interesting initially for a brief time, but then later on found out that same thought is stretched across numerous pages. May be, will complete it at a later date. Also got few of the classics now that I have loads of time and started with For whom the bell tolls by Hemingway. Went to a quiet beach with my favorite Frappuccino and read it for few hours. I am supposed to work on my thesis, but these are last days of California summer :)

4. August 16, 2002 : I reached US for the first time on this date. So over 3 years now. I had a habit of kind of pseudo-retrospecting on such occasions and then kicking myself for not achieving anything worthwhile. I recollect that feeling when I turned 14. I was bit sad that 20% of my life is over and I have not done anything worthy. When I turn 25, may be I will think that best part of my youth is over and now my middle-age has started. But, now I feel I am not so significant to think along these lines. While thinking in this way might inspire someone into action, I know I won't change a bit. So why worry?

5. Got some further supporting data regarding my post Outsider and Insider on this blog (http://viprashna.blogspot.com/2005/04/outsider-and-insider.html). San Diego Union Tribune published results of survey conducted about Immigration from Mexico. While the first generation immigrants oppose stricter measures, considerable majority of second generation immigrants feel that there should be more stringent conditions placed.

6. Some photos from trek :
First two snaps are from 10-mile trek at Mount Laguna, with what Thomas Hardy might put as 'Gray of the purest melancholy' all around us. The next three were taken at Torre Pines State reserve with my friends Aditi and Anuj. The last one shows the toll taken by time on my hairline :)

A week-end well spent

2005-08-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

This week-end was great. Friday started with a confirmation of full-time job and ended with a great dinner in Downtown San Diego. Sadaf, the Persian restaurant served great kababs and excellent white wine and with the company of close friends; it was just parfait.

On Saturday, went to watch Acura Classic Tennis tournament at Carlsbad with my roomies. Having an Acura helped - free Parking.

The first match that we watched involved Shikha Uberoi - an Indian American who decided to play for India. It was a keenly fought match which she won in three sets. The sizeable Indian section of the crowd - mostly of Electronics/Computer Engineers, vociferously supported her. Sania Mirza needed not much support as she easily defeated her opponent losing only two games. Her ground strokes were accurate and powerful.

The day was great, so we went to beach in the evening and then for another good dinner at California Pizza Kitchen - one of the best place for Pizzas. Came home and finished reading Angels and Demons till 6:30 a.m. The book is ok, may be because one tends to compare it with Da Vinci code. Slept for three hours of Sunday morning, and then went to Torre Pines for hiking. There were three-four trails along the beach which were great. Hiked for around five hours and then went to our friend's home who has bought a 65" flat TV to watch Bunty aur Bubbly. Okish movie. Not so great.

I had simulation for my thesis work running on my laptop throughout the weekend - so there was no guilty feeling while enjoying. Got the expected results,too.

Why did I write this? I actually don't like blogging routine events. I don't consider my life so significant or interesting to write about it in detail. For the same reason, I gave up writing daily diary which I started when I was 11-12. But this week-end was different. I recollect my boring weekends of first two years in US, when we did not have car or internet connection/TV at home or enough money/information to go visit places. The next year was worse, when at least one week-end per month was spent at job to meet deadlines and rest of them doing chores and feeling monday blues. This break from work is refreshing to say the least. Somerset Maugham once defined Ideal life as - Good friends, Good food and a sleepy conscience. Well,it was not exactly that way but ideal for me nonetheless.

Plays and food for thought

2005-07-18T12:04:00.000-07:00

I drove to Los Angeles on Sunday to watch two Marathi plays by Suyog - "Ethe havay kunala prem?" and "Appa aani Bappa". The first one was a light comedy about various stages of marital relationship. The other play Appa aani Bappa was a classic. Two great actors - Vikram Gokhale and Dileep Prabhavalkar portrayed two friends who had worked together in a farce over 40 years only to part ways after a misunderstanding.

It was worth driving for two hours each way (130 miles or so) to watch these veteran actors perform. Not just the play, but the whole ambience transformed me back to good old Mumbai theatres. Those bells ringing before the curtain goes up, that divine smell of coffee and batata-wadas and close to 500 strong crowd. For a moment, it was like a play in Deenanath at Parle. Theatre is a fascinating medium and I guess, no matter how many dimensions we add to movies; theatre will retain its charm.

Interestingly for both the plays, I was sandwiched between a Kannada family from Pune on my right and a Gujarati family from Mumbai on my left. People speaking Kannada, Konkani and Gujarati watching a play in Marathi in an area dominated by Spanish speaking immigrants from Mexico. Last Sunday, it was turn of my Turkish and Korean colleagues to watch Sarkar in theatre with us.

I trust, this pot-pourri of cultures is the most interesting thing about Mumbai and California. I actually have a personal record of having food from seven different cuisines (Swedish, Indian, Persian, Chinese, Mexican, Greek and Hawaiian) for seven meals in 3 days (no wonder, I weigh close to 75 kg). I could go on and on, with this thread to belabor my point of how variety is the spice of life and how globalization is bringing different cultures closer, but then I have to leave for a Japanese Sushi n Tempura fair. Man, how I enjoy not working and sitting at home doing plain nothing!

आषाढस्य प्रथमदिवसे

2005-07-03T22:59:00.000-07:00

Thursday July 7 will be celebrated as Mahakavi Kalidas Din. It is because as per Indian calendar, it is the first day of Aashadh month. His epic Meghadoot starts with following lines :

आषाढस्य प्रथमदिवसे मेघमाश्लिष्टसानु वप्रक्रीडापरिणीत गज प्रेक्षणीय ददर्ष
I am not sure of verbatim meaning, but it describes a black-coloured cloud, which Kalidasa thinks looks like a spectacular elephant ready for playing.

Sigh! I miss the Mumbai monsoon

Of that lamentable company

2005-06-22T02:17:00.000-07:00

I was not aware of Tagging till Sudhamshu book-tagged me. I am answering the tagging questions the way he has. Unfortunately, among my friends I only know Sudhamshu who is a regular blogger. As a result, I won't be able to tag anyone further.

Here I go:

Total no. of books I own : around 400-450
Except 3-4 books in English and couple in Sanskrit, rest all are in my mother-tongue : Marathi.
Of course, I haven't counted technical books and story-books for children. [I have still kept a few for nostalgic reasons - like the ones I was gifted on my 6th birthday or for topping my class in Second standard : this is some kind of success, I must add, I have been unable to enjoy in my adult life :)]

Last book that I bought:
Can't name just one, as I went to Ideal book depot at Dadar, Mumbai and bought around 15-16 books which I had enlisted in last year or two. It won't make much sense naming them here as all are in Marathi.

Books that left lasting impact on me:
Bhagvad-geeta
Of human bondage - W. Somerset Maugham
The fountainhead
Aahe manohar tari (Though it is pleasant) - Suneeta Deshpande
Baromas (12 months or round the year) - Sadanand Deshmukh (Sahitya Akademi award winner)

The other worth mentioning are collection of short stories by Maugham like East and West, Lord of the flies, all the Jeeves and Psmith collection by Wodehouse, Exodus, Animal Farm by Orwell and Mother by Maksim Gorky.

Unfortunately, I started reading English literature quite late in my life - at the age of 22, so I am still a novice in that. Some books in Marathi like Vishakha, Vyakti aani valli and Poorv-rang left a lasting impression on my mind.

I recollect reading Poorv-rang (travelogue about East Asian countries) when I was in 5th or 6th standard and getting the feeling that I have read something great. I guess that was the transition point in moving from Kid stuff to Serious literature. Though, Poorv-rang by no means is the best work by Pu. La. Deshpande and though I came across many other classics later on; it has a special place solely because that was the beginning. This was the time when Languages, first Marathi and then Sanskrit, became my most favorite subjects at school. Before that, Maths was the most favourite subject and looked like no other subject would appear more interesting.

Currently I am trying a little bit different approach. I read two or three factual or non-fiction books. One was India Unbound by Gurcharan Das on Indian Economy since independence till post-1991 Economic reforms and another Pakistan : Eye of storm by Bennett Jones. My guess was that I won't be able to read the first one with the same interest as novels. But I was wrong and it made an interesting reading.

The other approach is reading critical essays in Marathi. Of course, I made sure that I have read majority of the books of the author, whose work will be the subject of these essyas. It really makes a good reading because, having read the works of author, the critic gives you an additional dimension to understand and enjoy his work. Usually, he also would point to certain references which might escape in casual reading.

A good critic draws your attention to various other books which have a similar point that he is trying to prove. ( - so you know more names of the books worth reading, or at least giving a try). I discovered couple of good books this way, which for some reason did not enjoy the success they deserved and mostly would have remained unknown to me.

There is of course, whole another branch that deals with this scientific study of art. The books that I am reading right now are Himwantichi sarovare by Da. Bhi. Kulkarni and Saundaryanubhav by Prabhakar Padhye. I was initially bogged down by words like Existentialism, Logical positivism ( that too, explained in Sanskrit-nishtha Marathi) et al but then slowly things began to make sense (or so I think). Now, when I re-read the old books; it is with more insight and try to find some things that could have escaped before.

I wish I had same perseverance with my studies!

Mumbai towards Colaba

2005-05-17T01:09:00.000-07:00

Mumbai towards Colaba
Originally uploaded by Pimliclive.

IMG_0114

2005-05-17T01:04:00.000-07:00

IMG_0114
Originally uploaded by Nandan Hodavdekar.

Sunrise seen from a hill. I surprised myself and all my relatives by waking up at 5:30 am ready for trek of an hour.

IMG_0143

2005-05-17T01:01:00.000-07:00

IMG_0143
Originally uploaded by Nandan Hodavdekar.

View from Vengurle's port

Outsider and Insider

2005-04-19T23:46:00.000-07:00

I am really a novice when it comes to blogging. Sudhamshu's latest blog (which could be found under the apt name of Professional Pakau) kind of inspired me into writing this.

As I write this, I remember a short anecdote I read in one of my textbooks. The writer tries to get into a crowded train compartment. As it is already crowded, people inside ask him to go to the next one saying that it is less crowded. Nevertheless, when he decides to come in, a well-built guy makes sure that his entry is not very comfortable by blocking his way. However once he is in and the train departs, he slowly finds himself being accepted and when the next station comes, he and the guy who blocked his entry rally together to block outsiders coming in.

What this means, is that there are really no divisions based on religion, nation, money or race. All conflicts basically arise in two groups - insiders and outsiders. Depending on our interests, we play both the roles in different situations. Outsiders struggle to be insiders, and once in more often than not oppose the rest.

So it is not surprising or even self-contradictory when someone advocating banning outsiders coming into metros like Mumbai or Bangalore, is ready to send his children to another country and most often wishes that they would settle there. He is just an insider in his own city, but outsider to that coveted nation.

Narrowing the scope of this discussion to immigration, I guess it is an inevitable process. On a larger scale, it represents the perpetual struggle between Haves and Have-nots. No one can really prevent it; the best they can do is slow it down.

Outsiders usually tend to do better, as mostly they have nothing to lose, are prepared to work harder and take more risks. So if insiders feel a bit of grudge about people coming from outside and feeling insecure about their own future, then it is not unnatural.

Working in a way to preserve one's interest is the natural instinct and when it is coupled with the sense of insecurity and injustice, the insiders do take some drastic measures. Banning movies from a different language being displayed or beating up people coming from a different state or country are just a few examples of it. The holocaust could easily be the gravest one.

The question is where will this lead us? - more hatred and more wars? No one can predict.

But strangely, it appears that the path of attaining Moksha means being outsider to your body and soul. Does that appear to be a simple problem to solve?

Waiting for weekend

2004-09-25T01:54:00.000-07:00

I guess Friday is more pleasant than Saturday. May be it is just like the wait to achieve what you want and the feeling that it is so nearby is more relaxing than getting it actually. W. Somerset Maugham perhaps meant the same thing when he commented that perfection is always trifle boring, or we can compare it with the journey being more memorable than the destination. All right, this is really stretching it too far. but it is almost 2 a.m. now and after a long day, I cannot think properly - getting ready to sleep, hence all this rubbish.