"For God And His Country
He Raised Our Flag In Battle
And Showed A Measure Of His
Pride At A Place Called "Iwo Jima"
Where Courage Never Died"
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Where courage never died
To remain ignorant of things that happened before you were born is to remain a child.
Monday, October 23, 2006
She
567 pages. 38 black and white photographs. A loyal daughter. A silent girl. A confused teenager. A gorgeous lady. A passionate lover. A helpless wife. An astute politician. A frightened mother. A skeptical old lady. A bloody death.
She hated her long over-generous nose. She wished she was not skinny. She loved Kashmir. She fell sick way too often. She loved French. She hated Latin. She was the silent, sometimes uncomprehending witness of the Indian freedom movement. She was totally in awe of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She was not all that much impressed by Tagore. She proudly called herself "Indu Boy" because her cut resembled that of a smart, young boy.
She fell in love with her teacher during her teenage years – a touch of temporary madness to the otherwise sensible persona. She liked her life in London. She fell head over heels in love with a man, most unlike her in almost every aspect. She kept her engagement a well-guarded secret for quite sometime. She fought passionately to stay with him for life. She looked resplendent on her wedding day. Her marriage was eventually accompanied by a tragic inertia. Circumstances never gave her love a second chance. He left her alone way too soon in the very long course of her life.
She was bound to her father with an unquestioned sense of duty, rather than love. She was tired of living in his shadow, but still continued with it. She loved rubbing her head against his shoulders, while he talked to her about life, India, religion and philosophy. He was the most influential teacher in her life. Her nature, though, somehow irritated him at times. His intellect and charming personality always made her feel incomplete. They fought like kids. They did not talk to each other for months. She was able to open her soul to him in her letters - but, in person, both of them shared a mutual sense of apathy and the pain of her mother’s death, if nothing else. She held him sub-consciously responsible for her failing marriage. When he was around, she wished for a way out from his life. But, she missed him a lot once he was gone.
She was a doting mother. She tried not to repeat the same mistakes she felt her parents had made. She wanted to keep her son away from the infamous field of politics. She tried to give them as normal a life as possible, but she could not stop them from choosing their tragic fate. One son turned out to be her biggest threat in many ways – another son always stood beside her like her silent shadow. Both died a tragic, untimely and painful death – just like her.
She was proud to call herself an Indian. She was possessive about the Indian State. She felt that no one could take care of India like her – just like a mother feels about her child. She was almost forced onto the centre stage of Indian politics. She was the Indian Prime Minister for 16 years. She won two elections by a huge margin. She lost one election - again by a huge margin. India fought one major war against Pakistan under her and emerged victorious. She introduced the most drastic economic reforms amidst huge opposition. She imposed the State of Emergency in India for 21 months. She gave the nod for Operation Blue Star to proceed. She tried to make best out of the political circumstances around her – only to fail miserably. She had a premonition about her violent death and she was ready for it. The men, whom she was supposed to trust the most, assasinated her.
She wanted a normal life. She said there was nothing special about her other than her charismatic father and her strong willed mother. She never imagined that she would lead the country one day. She was the right person at the right place, albeit at the wrong time. She was the most inevitable accident of modern Indian politics. She continues to remain one of the prominent figures of Indian politics on global stage till date. The woman roused the feelings of awe, inane admiration, romanticism, skepticism, disgust, pure hatred, pity and understanding, as I hesitantly peeped into her life – piecemeal - with the words of Katherine Frank, guiding me along. She was Indira Nehru Gandhi.
She hated her long over-generous nose. She wished she was not skinny. She loved Kashmir. She fell sick way too often. She loved French. She hated Latin. She was the silent, sometimes uncomprehending witness of the Indian freedom movement. She was totally in awe of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She was not all that much impressed by Tagore. She proudly called herself "Indu Boy" because her cut resembled that of a smart, young boy.
She fell in love with her teacher during her teenage years – a touch of temporary madness to the otherwise sensible persona. She liked her life in London. She fell head over heels in love with a man, most unlike her in almost every aspect. She kept her engagement a well-guarded secret for quite sometime. She fought passionately to stay with him for life. She looked resplendent on her wedding day. Her marriage was eventually accompanied by a tragic inertia. Circumstances never gave her love a second chance. He left her alone way too soon in the very long course of her life.
She was bound to her father with an unquestioned sense of duty, rather than love. She was tired of living in his shadow, but still continued with it. She loved rubbing her head against his shoulders, while he talked to her about life, India, religion and philosophy. He was the most influential teacher in her life. Her nature, though, somehow irritated him at times. His intellect and charming personality always made her feel incomplete. They fought like kids. They did not talk to each other for months. She was able to open her soul to him in her letters - but, in person, both of them shared a mutual sense of apathy and the pain of her mother’s death, if nothing else. She held him sub-consciously responsible for her failing marriage. When he was around, she wished for a way out from his life. But, she missed him a lot once he was gone.
She was a doting mother. She tried not to repeat the same mistakes she felt her parents had made. She wanted to keep her son away from the infamous field of politics. She tried to give them as normal a life as possible, but she could not stop them from choosing their tragic fate. One son turned out to be her biggest threat in many ways – another son always stood beside her like her silent shadow. Both died a tragic, untimely and painful death – just like her.
She was proud to call herself an Indian. She was possessive about the Indian State. She felt that no one could take care of India like her – just like a mother feels about her child. She was almost forced onto the centre stage of Indian politics. She was the Indian Prime Minister for 16 years. She won two elections by a huge margin. She lost one election - again by a huge margin. India fought one major war against Pakistan under her and emerged victorious. She introduced the most drastic economic reforms amidst huge opposition. She imposed the State of Emergency in India for 21 months. She gave the nod for Operation Blue Star to proceed. She tried to make best out of the political circumstances around her – only to fail miserably. She had a premonition about her violent death and she was ready for it. The men, whom she was supposed to trust the most, assasinated her.
She wanted a normal life. She said there was nothing special about her other than her charismatic father and her strong willed mother. She never imagined that she would lead the country one day. She was the right person at the right place, albeit at the wrong time. She was the most inevitable accident of modern Indian politics. She continues to remain one of the prominent figures of Indian politics on global stage till date. The woman roused the feelings of awe, inane admiration, romanticism, skepticism, disgust, pure hatred, pity and understanding, as I hesitantly peeped into her life – piecemeal - with the words of Katherine Frank, guiding me along. She was Indira Nehru Gandhi.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Diwali around the corner...
Night enveloping the environs around me. Yet another day drawing to an end. A shuttle. A window. A pair of tired eyes. The bright headlights of the vehicles are, at times, soothing. The cool crisp October air on my face. The shimmering lights in the motley shopping windows. A phantasmagoria of colours while the shuttle races past them.
The dancing paper lanterns at Terrace bay. Stores screaming discounts and sales. Pizza hut with it’s bell and decorations. Café coffee day with it’s coffee and cookies. Nike with it’s "swoosh". Brisah with it’s style. Road side book stalls. Hoardings asking "Are you afraid of the stock market??" - No, I am not!!!
All buildings glowing. All malls decorated like tiny palaces out of those fairy tales. All people shopping like there is no tomorrow. Friends sharing a laugh while sharing a cone of ice cream. A kid with a grim frown sitting at the back of a scooter while his dad skillfully manipulates peak hour traffic. Wonder what he’s so pissed off about. Smile U little kiddo!!! Another kid with his mum – holding on tight to a balloon and following his ma obediently. The familiar road bumps on the flyover. The snail like pace of the shuttle at some junctions. A huge endless sea of vehicles. All in a mad rush to go somewhere. Reach somewhere. Everyone is real busy – real busy being happy. Wonder what it is about Diwali? Happiness everywhere.Have you felt the love and magic in the air of late? Nope? Well, hold your hand out – you just might catch the stardust floating all around.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
El arte es una mentira que nos acerca a la verdad..
Pablo Picasso...
Simple sometimes.....
Recondite on occasions...
Joyous at times..
Bleak at others...
Cubist mostly...
I met a genius long time back. I fell in love - today.
Oh well...
Saw an episode of Boston Legal today. Pretty intense. Phenomenal performance by James Spader once again. Wish I could be home early from work atleast on Wednesday evenings so that I get to be a regular viewer of this serial. Well, leaving wishful thinking aside for now, the case in question this time, was to do with capital punishment. All the dramatic speeches, all the pleadings, swearing, bribing could not save the man and he finally had to pay for what he did. He regretted what he did, he wanted a chance to reform, but somehow the jury had no time to consider that. They needed to close the case, find and punish the criminal- be done with it. It was heart wrenching to see him running away from his death, him furiously flapping his hands and legs helplessly while police officers strapped him on the "death-bed". A blank look in Spader’s eyes while he witnessed this scene with an eerie nonchalance. Suddenly, the credits started rolling and I was brought back to reality instantly– with a thud.
Weird coincidence. The editorials in India are passionately discussing the very same topic for quite sometime now – death penalty. While some say "Why damn debate about this? Be done with the fucker. He deserves nothing less", some say "Not fair, he deserves a second chance". The man in question is Mohammad Afzal. The whole ongoing debate reminds me of an article in Outlook which I read almost a year back, which attempted to explore the psyche of these terrorists. It explained the abstruse angle that is associated with this entire terror network. What drives these people to commit such heinous crimes without as much as batting an eyelid and later on, die a silent death feeling like a martyr, while in actuality, they are perceived to be a bloody animal that deserves to be killed – nothing more, nothing less.
How many of these "terrorists" are responsible for their opinions and views? According to the author of that article, most of these terrorists are simple, "normal" people, who believe or are led to believe that their countries have been wronged in more ways than one, in the name of money, religion, faith by the so-called "well-to-do" countries. They are led to believe that they are pursuing a noble cause. The mass killing is the will of God.
Taking a myopic view, the terrorists in Pakistan are made to believe that India is a country which has wronged Pakistan at every step since Independence - India is a country wherein the Muslims are ill-treated everyday for, well, being a Muslim - India is a country which does not deserve anything less than the worst form of terrorism. While in India to execute an operation, it is made sure that these "terrorists" do not stay in India for too long, else they would soon realize that India is not an extremist nation as they made it out to be. It is a living, thriving democracy – a potpourri of contrasting ideas, views – yet capable of maintaining the essence of harmony amidst all this. Having said that, I would also like to add that it would be a wrong notion to believe that Islam is associated with extremism. Kar Seva in 1992 led by a Hindu nationalist party, the mass pogrom carried out in Gujarat in 2002 are "glittering" examples that showcase the "non-existing" limits of lunacy of Hindu extremism. Well, the religious aspect of it – that makes subject for an entirely different post (will write about it some other time, not right away, not here).
Moving on. at a global level, these terrorists are made to believe that America and EU are out with a single mission of ruling the entire world (well, aren’t they doing that already?) Well, according to me, America and EU sure are super powers and have things their own way most of the times, but I would like to believe that they do make space for other nation’s viewpoints as well. There is a reason that there are 5 nations in the UNSC with a veto power. As Thomas Friedman put it, the world is divided into the "world of order" and "world of disorder" as of today. The world of order- the super powers and the emerging economies with their steadily increasing per capita incomes and steadily decreasing poverty levels. The world of disorder – the failed nations who blame the super powers for their status quo (which is true to a large extent) and not seeing any way out of their seemingly perpetual bad fate, thereby adopting this sadist attitude of spreading the ill will around. This classification precisely sums up the existing polarity in our world today.
Coming back to our case in point, whether Afzal will be hanged or not, I really don’t think I can foretell that because the arguments and points raised by both sides seem sensible to me. Catch 22 sorts. While one side argues that a strong message needs to be sent across to these terrorists and hanging him would do just that, the other side argues that death penalty is not in congruence with the fair and humane image of India. While one side argues that abolishing death penalty would amount to sustaining these criminals for their lifetime at the expense of the tax payer’s money, the other side argues that atleast one chance to reform is a pre-requisite when we call ourselves an understanding and open minded democracy. Well, I don’t want to add any more to the already existing debate.
Rwanda is making plans to abolish death penalty as we speak, as many as 69 countries have already abolished it, a sizeable number of countries continue to practise it, China even executes people aged below 18 depending on the intensity of crime - well, leaving all the statistics on capital punishment aside, I just like to remember one thing – criminals (terrorists) are not born – they are made. I guess it’s a romantic notion to pursue in these times of trouble, confusion and terror. But, those words give me a hope that everything is not wrong still –that room still remains for corrective action.
What happens to Afzal – I am sure that we really don’t care – because we all know that he is after all a miniscule link in an encompassing terror network. Does his presence (or absence) make any difference to the status quo? I am guessing the answer to that question is a no… but the debate continues.
Weird coincidence. The editorials in India are passionately discussing the very same topic for quite sometime now – death penalty. While some say "Why damn debate about this? Be done with the fucker. He deserves nothing less", some say "Not fair, he deserves a second chance". The man in question is Mohammad Afzal. The whole ongoing debate reminds me of an article in Outlook which I read almost a year back, which attempted to explore the psyche of these terrorists. It explained the abstruse angle that is associated with this entire terror network. What drives these people to commit such heinous crimes without as much as batting an eyelid and later on, die a silent death feeling like a martyr, while in actuality, they are perceived to be a bloody animal that deserves to be killed – nothing more, nothing less.
How many of these "terrorists" are responsible for their opinions and views? According to the author of that article, most of these terrorists are simple, "normal" people, who believe or are led to believe that their countries have been wronged in more ways than one, in the name of money, religion, faith by the so-called "well-to-do" countries. They are led to believe that they are pursuing a noble cause. The mass killing is the will of God.
Taking a myopic view, the terrorists in Pakistan are made to believe that India is a country which has wronged Pakistan at every step since Independence - India is a country wherein the Muslims are ill-treated everyday for, well, being a Muslim - India is a country which does not deserve anything less than the worst form of terrorism. While in India to execute an operation, it is made sure that these "terrorists" do not stay in India for too long, else they would soon realize that India is not an extremist nation as they made it out to be. It is a living, thriving democracy – a potpourri of contrasting ideas, views – yet capable of maintaining the essence of harmony amidst all this. Having said that, I would also like to add that it would be a wrong notion to believe that Islam is associated with extremism. Kar Seva in 1992 led by a Hindu nationalist party, the mass pogrom carried out in Gujarat in 2002 are "glittering" examples that showcase the "non-existing" limits of lunacy of Hindu extremism. Well, the religious aspect of it – that makes subject for an entirely different post (will write about it some other time, not right away, not here).
Moving on. at a global level, these terrorists are made to believe that America and EU are out with a single mission of ruling the entire world (well, aren’t they doing that already?) Well, according to me, America and EU sure are super powers and have things their own way most of the times, but I would like to believe that they do make space for other nation’s viewpoints as well. There is a reason that there are 5 nations in the UNSC with a veto power. As Thomas Friedman put it, the world is divided into the "world of order" and "world of disorder" as of today. The world of order- the super powers and the emerging economies with their steadily increasing per capita incomes and steadily decreasing poverty levels. The world of disorder – the failed nations who blame the super powers for their status quo (which is true to a large extent) and not seeing any way out of their seemingly perpetual bad fate, thereby adopting this sadist attitude of spreading the ill will around. This classification precisely sums up the existing polarity in our world today.
Coming back to our case in point, whether Afzal will be hanged or not, I really don’t think I can foretell that because the arguments and points raised by both sides seem sensible to me. Catch 22 sorts. While one side argues that a strong message needs to be sent across to these terrorists and hanging him would do just that, the other side argues that death penalty is not in congruence with the fair and humane image of India. While one side argues that abolishing death penalty would amount to sustaining these criminals for their lifetime at the expense of the tax payer’s money, the other side argues that atleast one chance to reform is a pre-requisite when we call ourselves an understanding and open minded democracy. Well, I don’t want to add any more to the already existing debate.
Rwanda is making plans to abolish death penalty as we speak, as many as 69 countries have already abolished it, a sizeable number of countries continue to practise it, China even executes people aged below 18 depending on the intensity of crime - well, leaving all the statistics on capital punishment aside, I just like to remember one thing – criminals (terrorists) are not born – they are made. I guess it’s a romantic notion to pursue in these times of trouble, confusion and terror. But, those words give me a hope that everything is not wrong still –that room still remains for corrective action.
What happens to Afzal – I am sure that we really don’t care – because we all know that he is after all a miniscule link in an encompassing terror network. Does his presence (or absence) make any difference to the status quo? I am guessing the answer to that question is a no… but the debate continues.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Requiem for a love
Sometimes, amidst all the lunacy going on in your mind, the sheer normality of life and people around can catch you off guard and leave you in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, you are too confused to stay and too scared to leave. Sometimes, the choice is between temporary pain and permanent grief. Sometimes, the decision can be heart breaking and have a mind-numbing effect.
Given a choice, you want to avoid making that choice. You don’t want to ponder about your decision. You don’t want to predict and simulate the after-math of it all. Yet, you know, you must make that decision. You must make that choice. You must stand alone. You must hope that you are right. You must adopt the pain. You must smile. You must move on.
Every story does not have a happy ending. Nor does every story have a sad ending. Sometimes, the tales remain half-told, half-heard – you remember (or rather choose to remember) only the good bits – the jokes, the smiles, the intimacy – the sheer beauty of it all. Maybe, just maybe, it was too good to be true after all – was just blind all this while.
A chapter ends. A lesson learnt. A prayer said. A good luck whispered. A tear hidden. A smile worn.
Given a choice, you want to avoid making that choice. You don’t want to ponder about your decision. You don’t want to predict and simulate the after-math of it all. Yet, you know, you must make that decision. You must make that choice. You must stand alone. You must hope that you are right. You must adopt the pain. You must smile. You must move on.
Every story does not have a happy ending. Nor does every story have a sad ending. Sometimes, the tales remain half-told, half-heard – you remember (or rather choose to remember) only the good bits – the jokes, the smiles, the intimacy – the sheer beauty of it all. Maybe, just maybe, it was too good to be true after all – was just blind all this while.
A chapter ends. A lesson learnt. A prayer said. A good luck whispered. A tear hidden. A smile worn.
Of Tank Man, democracy and We
The entire scenario around us can seem quite hopeless and suffocating at times. There are times when you feel ashamed to be a part of "the system" that fails to provide basic necessities of life to majority of the population. When that cute little kid with tired eyes asks you to buy balloons while you wait at the traffic stop, when you finish your meal at a restaurant and a small boy comes along to pick your dishes and clean the table, when you see those small rag-pickers going through the garbage- hard at "work" . We actually get to see two faces of life living side by side on a daily basis – the good one and the dreaded one. The rich seem to be getting richer and the poor seem to be getting poorer. Your blood boils. You scream out quite a few names at the government, to the system, console yourself saying that the system cannot be changed by a single idea - single man - single vision, let out a sigh and proceed towards that shopping mall for a good time – the irony of it all!
Quite a few famous names (Gandhi, Nehru, Mandela, Guevara, Hitler et al) walked these very lands, who in their lifetime, made a difference to the world (in a good or a bad way) and whose names remain recorded in the history books till date. Those people sure are important and right in their own way. But, for me, the one person, who personifies the power vested in a single individual, who represents true democracy in it’s purest form is the Tank man. He is some one who continues to intrigue me till date. Nobody knows who he is for sure till date, people still debate about his identity, and people still continue to remain in awe of him.
Till June 5, 1989, he was a nobody, just another face in the crowd, joining protest against his government for a noble cause and suddenly becoming internationally famous during the Tiananmen Square protests. He came, he spoke, he waved his hands around and he disappeared in the crowd again. Those were his five minutes of fame. He never came back to reclaim the fame bestowed upon him. People still are not sure as to who The Unknown Rebel was and that will remain one unanswered question for a long time to come – Deep Throat took 30 odd years to reveal his identity after all! Well, as for me, I respect the fact that he did not falter when it mattered. He spoke his mind out – even if it was for two minutes. He was not just another spectator in that huge crowd, booing and crying out cat calls, while the tanks were driving along. He tried to do something about it – whether it worked or not –well, does not matter. Seriously, how many of us have that sort of guts?
For me, the influence that Tank Man has on people till date is in itself inspiring. At the risk of sounding preachy and cliched, I’ d like to say that this fact somehow reinstalls my faith in the fact that the voice of an individual CAN matter – we don’t have to be just another face in the crowd. We can be heard – we can make a difference –it is totally our choice to remain deaf, dumb and blind to all the atrocities and wrongdoing we see happening around us – we don’t have anyone to blame for that. When did we grow this numb to all of it? When did the system take over? Does none of us want to do anything about it? Do we just want to remain a spectator in the crowd, while some one else decides the way of life for us?
High time, we started speaking out. High time, we start trying to make way for a better tomorrow. At times, myopic vision towards life is good, but the big picture needs to be in sight always. That was the whole purpose (or rather the necessity) behind the conceptualization of the system of democracy – to make individuals matter – to keep the entire process of governance of the country as personal as possible. When did we allow democracy to loose it’s true essence? Do we have some one to blame for that? You don’t know us sir – we, the Indians (like our politicians) love to play the blame game - we are like this only (subtext: and we are proud of it!)
Quite a few famous names (Gandhi, Nehru, Mandela, Guevara, Hitler et al) walked these very lands, who in their lifetime, made a difference to the world (in a good or a bad way) and whose names remain recorded in the history books till date. Those people sure are important and right in their own way. But, for me, the one person, who personifies the power vested in a single individual, who represents true democracy in it’s purest form is the Tank man. He is some one who continues to intrigue me till date. Nobody knows who he is for sure till date, people still debate about his identity, and people still continue to remain in awe of him.
Till June 5, 1989, he was a nobody, just another face in the crowd, joining protest against his government for a noble cause and suddenly becoming internationally famous during the Tiananmen Square protests. He came, he spoke, he waved his hands around and he disappeared in the crowd again. Those were his five minutes of fame. He never came back to reclaim the fame bestowed upon him. People still are not sure as to who The Unknown Rebel was and that will remain one unanswered question for a long time to come – Deep Throat took 30 odd years to reveal his identity after all! Well, as for me, I respect the fact that he did not falter when it mattered. He spoke his mind out – even if it was for two minutes. He was not just another spectator in that huge crowd, booing and crying out cat calls, while the tanks were driving along. He tried to do something about it – whether it worked or not –well, does not matter. Seriously, how many of us have that sort of guts?
For me, the influence that Tank Man has on people till date is in itself inspiring. At the risk of sounding preachy and cliched, I’ d like to say that this fact somehow reinstalls my faith in the fact that the voice of an individual CAN matter – we don’t have to be just another face in the crowd. We can be heard – we can make a difference –it is totally our choice to remain deaf, dumb and blind to all the atrocities and wrongdoing we see happening around us – we don’t have anyone to blame for that. When did we grow this numb to all of it? When did the system take over? Does none of us want to do anything about it? Do we just want to remain a spectator in the crowd, while some one else decides the way of life for us?
High time, we started speaking out. High time, we start trying to make way for a better tomorrow. At times, myopic vision towards life is good, but the big picture needs to be in sight always. That was the whole purpose (or rather the necessity) behind the conceptualization of the system of democracy – to make individuals matter – to keep the entire process of governance of the country as personal as possible. When did we allow democracy to loose it’s true essence? Do we have some one to blame for that? You don’t know us sir – we, the Indians (like our politicians) love to play the blame game - we are like this only (subtext: and we are proud of it!)
The clock is ticking away...
Chanced upon this real weird site (thanks to a friend with a very morbid taste indeed!)- this one! It tells me that I will be gone from this planet in 2087. Okie, quick math – that gives me 80 years (approx) in which am required to squeeze in every element that defines life and makes it seem worthwhile to me – dreams, friends, love, fun, happiness, success, satisfaction, memories, knowledge, wisdom, ambition (to name a few and not necessarily in the same order!). Well, given the fact that most of my hours awake are spent executing the same, mundane routine, I can definitely vouch for one thing – life, on my terms, has not started yet!
80 years – phew! When do I get started on those ever-elusive guitar lessons? When do I try and coax out some beautiful tunes from that piano? When do I listen to Beethoven, Puccini and Mozart over and over and over? When do I get the time to visit and admire all those wonderful masterpieces of colours and creativity of Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, O'Keeffe, Da Vinci et al, spread across different museums throughout the globe? When do I get to soak in the experience of all those exotic places on this planet, which I have only heard of, read about and seen through someone else’s eyes, words and perceptions? When do I get the time to explore those nooks and corners of those awesome cities and small, forgotten towns, well hidden from the tourists? When do those busy cities and sleepy towns reveal their age-old secrets to me? When do I learn skiing and skating? When do I get to wake up in the morning on a houseboat, in the middle of nowhere, with only the faint whispers of water to keep me company, while I am in a trance? When do I get to read all those books which I have been dying to read and watch all those movies I have been wanting to see?
Friday night - 11:45. Worrying about the deadline due in the next 96 hours. So much for 80 years. Damn.
80 years – phew! When do I get started on those ever-elusive guitar lessons? When do I try and coax out some beautiful tunes from that piano? When do I listen to Beethoven, Puccini and Mozart over and over and over? When do I get the time to visit and admire all those wonderful masterpieces of colours and creativity of Van Gogh, Monet, Kahlo, O'Keeffe, Da Vinci et al, spread across different museums throughout the globe? When do I get to soak in the experience of all those exotic places on this planet, which I have only heard of, read about and seen through someone else’s eyes, words and perceptions? When do I get the time to explore those nooks and corners of those awesome cities and small, forgotten towns, well hidden from the tourists? When do those busy cities and sleepy towns reveal their age-old secrets to me? When do I learn skiing and skating? When do I get to wake up in the morning on a houseboat, in the middle of nowhere, with only the faint whispers of water to keep me company, while I am in a trance? When do I get to read all those books which I have been dying to read and watch all those movies I have been wanting to see?
Friday night - 11:45. Worrying about the deadline due in the next 96 hours. So much for 80 years. Damn.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Lessons learnt..
I read this very interesting interview of Sushmita Sen this week in Times Life. She was as usual talking films, beauty pageants and men. In the middle of all this, there was this very interesting question posed to her - What have been some of life's most interesting lessons?She sure did come up with a brilliant answer, but the question got me thinking. What have been life's most interesting lessons that I have learnt so far? Have I lived enough to present a compendium of the lessons life has taught me?
I could give a tongue-in-cheek answer by saying I have learnt that there is a lot left to learn and be done with it (which would not be a bad idea!) But, seriously, when I started thinking about it, there sure were many things that came to my mind. Things might be all serious around me. Nothing might be going my way. But, I have learnt that there is always an excuse waiting to be found for me to break into a smile or share a laugh. Life has taught me the joy of secret laughter. I have learnt that I never cease to surprise myself. Life has taught me never to underestimate others and most importantly - myself. Life has taught me always to be ready for the unexpected with a smile on my face and strength in my heart. Life has taught me that only those who dream big, make it big in life. Life has taught me never to trust some one blindly. Life has taught me that for every enemy there is a friend. Life has taught me to be gentle with the gentle and tough with the tough. Life has taught me to believe in my own ideas and not necessarily follow the crowd always. Life has taught me to laugh when am sad ; to not let everybody's opinion matter; to beware of too much sweetness; to have no shame in tears. Life has taught me that loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making. Life has taught me that nothing is permanent - neither success nor failure. The only thing that matters is consistency at doing your best. Life has taught me that every new day is an assurance of the fact that God believes in me.Life has taught me that at the end of the day, only my conscience matters and not what people think. Life has taught me that there is still loads left to learn! ( couldn't resist adding that tongue-in-cheek remark :) )
All of us learn some of these lessons- sooner or later - either the hard way or the easy way. That's the beauty of life. You get to keep learning all through. You get to keep unlearning all through. And, unfortunately or fortunately, you get to make that choice all through.
I could give a tongue-in-cheek answer by saying I have learnt that there is a lot left to learn and be done with it (which would not be a bad idea!) But, seriously, when I started thinking about it, there sure were many things that came to my mind. Things might be all serious around me. Nothing might be going my way. But, I have learnt that there is always an excuse waiting to be found for me to break into a smile or share a laugh. Life has taught me the joy of secret laughter. I have learnt that I never cease to surprise myself. Life has taught me never to underestimate others and most importantly - myself. Life has taught me always to be ready for the unexpected with a smile on my face and strength in my heart. Life has taught me that only those who dream big, make it big in life. Life has taught me never to trust some one blindly. Life has taught me that for every enemy there is a friend. Life has taught me to be gentle with the gentle and tough with the tough. Life has taught me to believe in my own ideas and not necessarily follow the crowd always. Life has taught me to laugh when am sad ; to not let everybody's opinion matter; to beware of too much sweetness; to have no shame in tears. Life has taught me that loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making. Life has taught me that nothing is permanent - neither success nor failure. The only thing that matters is consistency at doing your best. Life has taught me that every new day is an assurance of the fact that God believes in me.Life has taught me that at the end of the day, only my conscience matters and not what people think. Life has taught me that there is still loads left to learn! ( couldn't resist adding that tongue-in-cheek remark :) )
All of us learn some of these lessons- sooner or later - either the hard way or the easy way. That's the beauty of life. You get to keep learning all through. You get to keep unlearning all through. And, unfortunately or fortunately, you get to make that choice all through.
Monday, October 02, 2006
The rock star!!!
TIME magazine named The Dalai Lama, Lech Walesa, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, Aung San Suu Kyi, Benigno Aquino Jr., Desmond Tutu, and Nelson Mandela as Children of Gandhi and his spiritual heirs to non-violence. Gandhi continues to be relevant, misunderstood and revalidated till date all across the globe. Why did we, Indians wake up so late to the man and his words?
Seven Blunders of the World: Wealth without work, Pleasure without conscience, Knowledge without character, Commerce without morality, Science without humanity, Worship without sacrifice, Politics without principle.
~ Gandhi
Whether humanity will consciously follow the law of love, I do not know. But that need not disturb me. The law will work just as the law of gravitation works, whether we accept it or not. The person who discovered the law of love was a far greater scientist than any of our modern scientists. Only our explorations have not gone far enough and so it is not possible for everyone to see all its workings
~ Gandhi
Generations to come, it may be, will scarcely believe that such a one, as this, ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth ~ Albert Einstein (circa 1948)
2 October 2006. India celebrates the man with renewed fervour. Gandhi seriously rocks! Long live gandhigiri!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Whoopsidaisies!!!
La Mariée (The Bride) by Marc Chagall, 1950. Anna: I cant believe u have that picture on your wall.
William: You like Chagall?
Anna: I do. It feels like how being in love should be. Floating through a dark blue sky.
William: With a goat playing the violin.
Anna: Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat.
~ Notting Hill (1999)
Comfortably numb...
How does it feel to be confused? When you have spent a lot of time with yourself and your thoughts? When you have had a lot of discussions and debates with yourself in your head over and over again? When you have gone over the pros and cons (point by point) a million times over coffee and music? When things don’t seem to make any sense anymore? Or rather, you prefer to leave the comprehending part for later. When you get tired of listening to your inner voice? When you have thought so much that your head literally hurts?
Well, it feels like looking into a kaleidoscope for so long that you forget to enjoy the colours and the abstract figures. It feels like looking at the ripples, created by throwing a stone in a pond on a lazy, summer afternoon, spreading all across and finally vanishing into nothingness. It feels like trying to sing along while listening to an old, forgotten tune, forgetting the lyrics here and there – filling the voids with your own words – just to make lines rhyme and not quite getting it right. It feels like looking through a marble held against the sun and not knowing which colour to watch out for and exclaim. It feels like losing the ability to distinguish where reality ends and imagination begins. It feels like travelling along murky, unexplored roads, knowing you are lost and still not doing anything about it. It feels like going with the flow – no questions asked, no answers offered. It feels like getting confused between tenses – you know you are wrong with the way you have framed the sentence, but you don’t exactly know where the mistake lies. It feels like being comfortably numb.
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