Gunahon Ka Devta

When Debu, my only chat friend(He is a computer science graduate from IIT Kgp, recently working with Samsung in Bangalore), recommended me this book, I politely said that I dont prefer that kind of book. By that kind, I meant, you very well know, which type of books.

This was my knee-jerk reaction after knowing the title of this book. I was quick to judge(so like me!) and I was sort of offended for having been taken for that type of guy who reads that type of books! But then he said that this book was an Academy award winner and a must-read for those who think that there could be anything that can be treated as a must-read. I was convinced enough to take a chance, after all I read Devnagri very fast.

I visited a Book Fair in Delhi or Ranchi, I dont remember where, and bought it. I must say that was a very good day of my life.

This is an all-time favorite book of almost all who have read it and here I include the people who do nothing else but read, and here I also include the people who picked it up with soaring expectations.

But I am not writing this because it is a super-hit book. I am writing it because I love it.

I hardly write reviews. I know people who do this better than me. So I leave it to them. But when Gunahon Ka Devta is in question, I must do what I have never done.

After spending a considerable number of hours with books and bookworms, I have a decently large sample size to make an observation about the category of books. There are 3 type of books I read.

1. Books that are written by brain.

2. Books that are written by heart.

3. Books that are written by soul.

I must say that I dont read unputdownable books. No serial-killer protagonists for me. Less due to excess of scorn and more due to shortage of time, I dont read the bestsellers and the charbusters. So I exclude the books that are written by other parts of human anatomy. Leave it. Lets not waste words for them.

Witty is the word for the first category. The author makes penetrating observations and uses spectacular language to leave you amazed and you marvel at his sheer power of making you amazed. Overall, it's an amazing read.

Moving is the word for the next category. These books might leave your face stained with lines at each side of your nose. You walk dazed throughout the day and you might find yourself examining your life, your relationships with those you love and your priorities. You feel unperturbably placid. Overall, it has a cathartic experience.

There is often an overlapping between the second and the last. The difference is that the former is more or less temporary but the latter leaves an indelible impression on your mind. This book belongs to the third category, the book that is written by soul.

Have you ever visited a small temple in a village? A temple surrounded by serenity and silence. A temple with ivory-white walls on the top a of a hill where you feel yourself lost in harmony with everything around. Have you ever been there?

This book creates the same ambience in your mind.

It is a love story.

But dont expect any cool-dude with a kick-ass confidence and a slapstick humor duly developed to make your dil go mmmm here. Chandar is far less disingenuous a character. And he is very simple and honest. There is nothing fake about him. You might not even notice him on the street. But you long for him for your entire life.

And there is no outwardly modern but actually traditional girl here. Sudha has never been exposed to smart education. She is innocence personified. She is so lovable that anyone would love her. She is the one who contains in herself the timeless beauty in the expectation of which a man wants to love a woman.

They don't go around with each other and have fun. Their love is not burdened by rituals and kitsch. Their relation has no social value. And their love is not that is shattered by one blow. They are not 'I-tried-but- it's-not-working-out' type people who seek the exit door as soon as they could.

It is a story of a boy and a girl who were not waiting it to happen in their life because it happens in everyone else's life and how wonderful life would be if it happens soon enough! They are not dying to make it happen. Well waiting for it is no way wrong and even you and I do it. But it is not our story. It is their story who live in Allahabad where life moves at the speed of an old melody. They share a cute nameless sibling-like relationship and imperceptibly become dependent on each other emotionally. When she fights with her father then it is only him and noone else who can persuade her to eat.

This is the thing that I liked the most. They didnt realize that they were in love! They were absolutely unaware of their own feelings for each other. When they come to know that they are going to be separated (by the girl's marriage) then only, very gradually and very unassuredly, they realize that what is between them has exceeded the boundary of friendship and perhaps it is what people call Love! But they are more confused than they were sure.

Imagine a sad bride who can not help thinking about a man who is not her would-be groom. And who is being teased by her giggling friends about her first night!

Imagine a man who simultaeously discovers his love for the bride and who is responsible to make various arrangements for her marriage. He is being torn apart by his mental conflicts and dilemma and suddenly he hears a call, 'O Chandar, beta where are you? You are sitting here! See where the doodhwala has died! Go and fetch him'.

I am feeling dizzy while writing it. And if you feel that it is a usual hindi-film story with the usual overdose of glycerine then it is I to blame and not the book. The moon is not less beautiful if the poet is inarticulate.

Well, what does he do? He suppresses his feelings. After all the girl is the daughter of his professor whom he worships. And it is sheer impunity and treachery to love his daughter. And the groom is many times better than him. He must not wreck havoc in a house where marriage is taking place because of his stupid emotions. He must keep his thoughts to himself and take care of where the hell the doodhwala is!

In this book, the writer doesnt say anything great about this supreme sacrifice. Rather he doesnt judge anyone and anything throughout the book. This is other beauty - no judgements, no logic, no rhetoric and no metaphors- and yet the effect!

The girl conforms to his father's wish and is peacefully married away but she could not do further. She could not make herself happy. She was incapable of enjoying herself. She falls sick, withers away her health and eventually dies before her clueless, helpless father and Chander who is a God of Sins! His nobility and loaftiness of character turns out to be the murderer of one he loves most! And his sacrifice couldnt outdo his love.

Read this book for its ambience if nothing else. I have found very few books who belong to the third category. Only The picture of Dorian Grey comes close to it because of Sibyl Vane and her understanding of Love!

The author, Dharmaveer Bharti, says that writing this book was like a heartfelt prayer for him.

"While writing this novel I experienced same type of feelings, which one does, when one is praying with full faith in the time of deep distress.... It appears as if same very prayer has been ingrained in my heart and I am repeating it."

Bhartiji, I assure you that as a reader I had had a similar experience.

Also read this post by Akshaya.

The balance question

We have a simple balance with us. No distortions; analogous to the good old unbiased coin of the bad old questions of probability that you might have solved in your std 12th.

We place 1 kg mass on the one scale and 1/2 a kg mass on the other. The former scale (heavy with its greatness, as a branch full of fruits) goes down lifting the latter scale. Fine? Now we put another 1/2 a kg mass on the second scale, without giving any jerk, any impact, we observe that it comes down (with its newly acquired humility) lifting the first one.

I'm sure each one of us has seen this phenomenon many times. A balance is a very useful and very popular instrument and its ability to balance is so much appreciated that it is accepted as a symbol of justice. But lets chuck philosophy for a while and return to the world of physics. Have you ever wondered why this happens? Why does the first balance comes up and the second balance goes down when we keep the weight on the second one?

This is an interesting question and you can try to solve it.

Try to make a diagram when you put the 1/2 kg weight at the second scale. We see that there are two mutually cancelling torques about the hinge, so we dont have a net torque.

Also, the total potential energy of the system also remains the same(gained by the first and lost by the second).

Any answers?

Krishna Consciousness

Since last weekend some thought waves were disturbing my mind. I allowed them to play their game in my mind and yesterday, finally, while I was riding back to my place, they presented themselves as a coherent picture. Let me share this picture with you and hope you will be able to see it as I did. It might require some abstract thinking but I will try to minimize your efforts. Let's start, come on.

I'm going to explain this, let's say, hypothesis by using a model. Let us visualize this model first. It's a very familiar model. Remember the diagram of an atom? A nucleus surrounded by concentric circles(orbitals) having electrons revolving around it. Also, there are fewer electrons in the orbitals that are closer to the nucleus, for instance there are only 2 electrons present in the 's' orbital. On the other hand we have more number of electrons in the outer orbitals, like 'd' and 'f'. You might have guessed that I am talking about some sort of hierarchy. If you guessed so, you are right. There are very few electrons that are near to the nucleus, and this implies something. I will talk about it in the following paragraphs.

That's my model. And I am sure it will make sense to you. Also, in this model, the nucleus as well as the electrons denote something. We will come to it later on.

Every electron enters to the system from outside the system. It starts from a point at the outermost circle, the periphery, and continues to make its way towards the centre along a spiral path. In every system here, the cyclic coordinate denotes time. The radial coordinate would denote different values as per the nature of the system. In the next paragraph we will talk about it. Usually an electron goes comes and closer to the nucleus as time progresses. It gains that value with the time. Sometimes, under favorable circumstances, a jump from an outer circle to an inner circle is also possible. It means that sooner an electron comes nearer to the nucleus. This jump saves time. A quantum energy is needed for bring about this jump and again it is supplied from different sources in different systems. I hope we are not confused till here.

The thoughts that came to my mind suggested me that there are many types of worlds existing in this universe. All these worlds can be seen and understood by our nucleus-electron model. One of these worlds is a world of truth- the intellectual world. At the center of this world, truth(nucleus) exists. Everything else revolves around truth. Everyone travels along the spiral paths and gain knowledge(value) with time. If a seeker(electron) is lucky enough to find a Guru(energy) then he gets a quantum jump and learns lessons quickly. It's so easy to verify this. By education, by reading books we learn quickly that otherwise would have taken much longer time. And if we get a mentor then the learning process is further catalyzed.

But this intellectual world is an ideal world where truth exists in the center. Actually, in non-ideal intellectual world, truth is slightly dislocated. It is so because the non-ideal intellectual world is generated by the ideal world's mapping on the practical world. When it is mapped on the world we live in, it becomes the academic world which is not a purely intellectual world. In the academic world, unlike the intellectual world, truth is not the nucleus. Every non-ideal world is bi-nuclei world, it has two centers so to say. In the academic world, for example, we have truth as the first and power as the second center. We not only acquire knowledge but also strive to obtain a degree that helps us to achieve some sort of confidence or control that is nothing but an indicative of power. Does that explain the cut-throat competition for IITs and IIMs? Does that explain the meaning of success? Yes, it is nothing but a quantum jump towards the center.

Similarly we have the aesthetic world having beauty at the center. We might have other worlds as well but I think I have mentioned the prominent ones.

Now we can move on to the worldly world that dominates all the other worlds - the political world. It is this world that modifies a purely intellectual world into an academic world by its sort of 'electromagnetic' influence. Now no credit for guessing what lies at the center of this world. Obviously power. Power. It is the power which makes this system run. Again, we must remember that noone, nobody can reach at the center and holds all the power. Look around. Can you find anyone who has infinite power? No. There is noone. Not a single man! Even the most powerful man has his insecurities. Even he has a man or a group of men to be afraid of. You may think about it in detail. But the immutable fact is : The center is not for any electron, there exists the nucleus.

In our world, where we live, we have mostly bi-centric worlds, except the pure political world of course. I acknowledge that this model is a very basic postulate and it can be developed further. I am just presenting a foundation, a template.

These thoughts were disturbing me because I wanted to find out my world. I was seeking the nucleus that will become my goal of life. Will it be truth? Or beauty? Or simply power? Or something else? Which type of electron am I? What is my essential nature, my Dharma? Which element is predominant in me? Yes, that's the word. Predominant. Of course I want and I need all, truth, beauty and power as well, but which of them would rule my destiny?

Ohh, I don't have to worry about that. My destiny will choose me, or perhaps it has already chosen me. My task, my duty is only to allow it to work through me. I must submit myself to it, the higher force.

"I am an experiment on the part of Nature, a gamble within the unknown, perhaps for a new purpose, perhaps for nothing, and my only task is to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to take its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine. That or nothing!" - Hermann Hesse

That's my MORALITY! My only morality!! I am feeling so light! And lighted!

So far so good. I was making sense to myself at least. But then an image flashed in my mind! Out of nothing! It was a revelation! Almost miracle! I have no expression, no word to articulate my amazement. I felt that I have gone crazy! It was so much shaken that I did something very stupid, something I had never done in my life. I bought a cigarette and smoked!

You know what did I see? I saw Krishna! I saw his Sudarshan Chakra.

Eureka!! This is the world we live in, this is the political world!! And His finger is there at the center! He is at the center! He is omnipotent, the one who has absolute power.

Some more contemplation explained our craving for power. As the chakra is revolving around his finger, the proximity to the center gives stability! Those who are at the periphery are weak and vulnerable. They are likely to be thrown out.

I know it was crazy. But this is what it was.

And it was not all.

I thought how amazing it is. Krishna is in the power chakra and he is also outside it!! Wow! So there are other ways to go to him. Yes there is spiritual way, nay there are many, infinitely many spiritual ways. Every religion is a way. All the ways lead to Him.

Then the halo around his head attracted my attention. Ha Ha.... I found the intellectual world as well! And His head is at its center. His head is the nucleus. The truth lies in His head. We can never know it all. We are not allowed the truth. Though we can and we do acquire knowledge.

I was actually feeling out of my senses. Strange thoughts were invading my poor mind. And I was secretly enjoying as well. But I must admit I was a little scared.

The last thing that needed an explanation was Love. Where is love in this schema? I didnt see it anywhere. It is perhaps too fine for my eyes. But then I thought that it is love that is the reason behind everything. It is the force that inspire electrons to revolve around the nucleus. It is.. ohh I must stop, it is blasphemous to talk more about it, it is ineffable, it should not be trivialized...

Last Night

I usually take long walk in night, alone, or with little mp3 player which sings my favorite songs for me. Music and night and solitude!! Wow!! It's SUBLIME! It's complete. Perfect. You dont want anything else. You don't get tired. You almost walk on air. You just feel happy. It's my type of fun, and I can't tell you how much I love it! I have always loved night. I have always been in awe of her beauty, her capacity to flood me with delight and intoxication. She inspires imagination and give it wings to fly away to distant lands, vast oceans, high hills and dark forests that I have never seen before. I see myself picking flowers I never had smelt before, fruits I never had tasted before. I look for my Eve and we eat all sort of forbidden apples in our garden. I create my own small world there where all my little dreams are fulfilled. It's the very existence of this world, however ephemeral and however volatile, that gives me enough enthusiasm to face the sun next day! Don't you have your own little world where you visit and get rejuvenated? I am sure you must have one. Anyways, lets come back to night before I talk more nonsense. But still I don't understand how others fail to see the way I see. Believe me, night is made for sleeping, and something else, and something else too.

OK. Let me ask you a question, an interesting question. Have you ever wondered how many type of nights we have? Think. Have you ever thought that tommorow's night will be different from yesterday's night! Why? Oh it's so simple. It's so because we have so many moons. And so many stars. And so we have so many nights! The landscape of sky remains the same every day, but it alters every night. And so the world remains the same every day, but it alters every night! We have at least 15 type of nights depending on the shape of the moon. And then 14 more depending on the moods of the moon. It is altogether a different experience to see a moon on its way to her glory. Those nights, of course, she shines more cheerfully. Her face glows with only she knows what. And then comes the festival, the night of the full moon! Oh it's the night of magic! How else can you explain what happen to us? It's the night when poetry descends onto earth, from heaven, in form of milky smoke, giving highs to mankind. It's the night when love blooms in the heart of men and women. It's the night when desire stretches her limbs in every breathing creature. That's her charm! That's her magic! We can hardly capture her magnificence in words. She is ineffably fine for words. She slips through them.

Can you find the Great Bear tonight? No, you have to wait till summers. But yes, you can see Orion if you want to. What I want to say is that if we include the stars and their patterns then we have even more type of nights. I dont know how many. But sufficiently many. Don't you feel thrilled? I do. I have so many varieties to explore and enjoy! Apart from it, I feel a sense of freedom in night. I find a privacy in the openness. Free from heat and dust and noise and haste, I walk freely knowing that nobody is looking at me.

I had developed this habit during my stay in Germany and now this has become a part of my life.

Last night too I felt an urge to take a long walk, at 11.30 night. Some questions had demanded a ransom of appropriate answers to release my peace of mind that they had abducted. So I had to think over them.

But can you do anything when there are people with evil intentions ambushing behind some shady place waiting for you to pass by? I was almost scared when Ravi put his hand on my shoulder. I thought that my songbird is in danger, its so nice, anyone would want to have it. And I was in no mood to part with it. Well I knew karate once upon a time but I am not that young and strong anymore! And anyways my punches and kicks have long been decimated by rust due to disuse thanks to my peaceful(ahem) nature. I put off my earphones and shook hands with him. Thankfully it was him. Then I saw Akshaya who was walking towards me with utmost physical application, stuffed with kebab as he was, and looked like a typical character of one of (his favorite-) RGV's underworld movie. And he was doing what he always does - he was saying something. Bad of course as I made him walk. In summary, apart from breaking my chain of thoughts they blasted me for not hearing their calls and having been devillishly lucky to miss the pebble they threw at me! Mind you they are my friends!

Well, I knew that the night had been ruined. I had to salvage whatever I could. So I sat with them and listened to them. Akshaya lambasted in his usual style a few popular writers and IIMs and professors and us of course :)

After sometime, an irrepressible desire of having tea surged in Akshaya's body. That means that the night is gone! It has happened with us earlier too. We came back at 4.30. That too because we had to attend office. Yesterday too we took our bikes and rode to Pune railway station. I love that place. I love that place. I love that place. I rode at 100 kmph, wow! the night was saved finally! It was such a fun to fly on the empty roads! Boy, night is beauty!

We had had our tea with Sachin and Sahir. Sahir whom I worship, even Akshaya does so and anyone else would do, provided he has two things- 1. a heart, and 2. exposure. Even talking about Sahir is so much fun!

What else does one need in life! Sometimes I wonder why people are crazy after useless things when happiness is spread in so many little things. Almost everything which can give you enduring happiness is free! You don't have to be a millionaire to buy music, noone can buy music. Neither night nor solitude. Leave it. I was so happy. Music and night and solitude, everything was there. I dont exactly remember what we talked because it doesnt matter. I remember that I felt quite nice and I wanted to stay there and had more cups of tea. I wanted more Sahir and more Sachin and more of everything. But again, we had to come to office today. So we rode back at 4.30.

I am amuse - The critique

I have already talked to Akshaya about it. I will not write an exhaustive review. I dont have energy to do that.

I know Akshaya through his writings at this website. Click on that link,I am sure you'ld like it.

Every age is marked by a force, a predominant force that shapes the psyche of that generation. This force influences us in every conceivable manner, economically, culturally, intellectually and psychologically. I think we are living in the age of corporatocracy. Arundhati Roy, Noam Chomsky and other contemporary philosophers are extensively working in this area and letting us see what is invisible with eyes we are allowed to have thanks to media. And thus every serious, purposeful and responsible writer is bound to express his views, if not his stand, about it. If you click on the above link, you will come to know about his views as well his stand on this. There is no ambiguity, he is characteristically unequivocal about it - he is dead against this corporatocracy, the postmodern evil.

Lets come back to the play. Before the beginning and after the end of the play the organizers profusely thanked the sponsers without whose support the staging of the play could not have been possible. It struck me how Akshaya would have felt then! I realized how awfully difficult it is to be a writer! Even Noam Chomsky needs the support of media to criticize it! And media is confident enough to allow some gadflies buzzing around.

1. The realization that you can hardly aspire to fulfil your dreams without the financial support of the one you deeply despise is emotionally exhausting. Read this. I cant imagine what damage it can do to your self-esteem if you actually go and ask for his help!

But this is what you have to do.

2. You have to keep in mind the psyche of your audience, the english-speaking people consisting of a majority with egos bigger than brains. I am talking about the majority of course. They come to theatre to see highbrow stuff and not the regular bourgeois kitsch. They are well-read people and they have fairly good taste due to exposure to quality literature. So you have to sell them something that appeals to their genteel taste. You must do justice with their high expectations. However, you must keep in mind that your play should, most favorably, give them a chance to relate to what they have already seen. Most of them come to see what they have already seen. This helps them to pass expert comments to the uninitiated lot and feel nice about it. As an Indian, creating something really original could be taken as insolently ambitious!

3. India is a huge country and you are a small person who belongs to a small place having small issues. You might be having a cosmopolitan outlook and all that but you are most likely to be touched by the things that have shaped your thought structure. There are certain regional issues that seems important to you. And as a writer you wish to do something about it. You want others to be sensitized about it. But given the diversity of our culture, you might feel absolutely un-understood or even misunderstood by your audience. It is difficult for a parsi, born and brought up in Mumbai to relate with the issues in the life of a Bengali woman.

So all english-speaking, theatre-going people have a better idea about European life than about the Indian life, whatever it might be. Keep this point in your mind.

Accepting this severely delimits your choice of subject. Now, given all the other considerations and constraints, you are not very much encouraged to raise Indian issues. So, as Akshaya says, give them comedy!

Now I am going to give my review on the play. I have taken two parameters by which I am going to judge the play. One is the choice of subject and the other is the treatment of subject.

1. The Writer: Perhaps writing a good comedy is not easy, so give them something that is in and which has some cerebral quality as well. But what? Mystery? Suspense? Thriller? Good enough for a novel but perhaps not feasible in a play. So invoke psychology, and all the concepts of alter-ego, schizophrenia etc.

The choice of subject was decent. And politically correct. It was, I think, written to entertain and it did the job successfully, I must say. The treatment of the subject was even better. The good acting and quality direction seized the attention of the audience.

2. The Drunkards: Personification of one's alter-ego and presentation of the inner conflicts that wage a war in one's mind. A topping of wit with some twists and turns sprinkled over it. Overall a delicious preparation! Akshaya is a readers' writer and the readers like him for whatever he writes. A brilliant effort.

The choice of the subject was suitable for his debut. Very un-Akshayally he wrote a nensensical play that made some good sense, keeping in mind the other factors that were too important to be ignored. This play could have been staged anywhere in the world, in India or abroad, and aroused more or less similar response. The identity of the audience didnt matter much. This was a safe play that was played safely. It continued to grasp the attention of the audience. It is nice to write for the readers without having to do anything with them! Indian readers deserve nothing better. Indian audience deserve the same.

The plot is, no doubt, interestingly made. Very artfully and very subtly, and in the course of the play, very smoothly, the dominating and the dominated selfs exchange places. The acting was superb and so was the direction. I had gone there to watch this play and I must say that I was not dissatisfied with it.

3. Cross talk: Disappointing. 'I am amuse' dies here. I could see no muse in any of the following playlets. I could see no link between this playlet to the preceeding ones. And I could see no sense, no purpose anywhere anytime in this one. This failed to keep the momentum that had been created by the earlier plays. And it failed to entertain us even. And why the hell this title - 'I am amuse'? Why not 'I am a muse'? And why not something even better?

4. End of innocence: This was about a boy who was reproached and humiliated for failing in mathematics test. His parents contrasted him with his kid sister who was in the same grade and topped the class. Noone seemed to be happy about his extraordinary performance in literature.

I liked the choice of the subject. Comparison among siblings, suppression of creativity of an individual etc are relevant topics to talk about. Our society is yet to find an answer to these questions. So we must be reminded that these issue do exist.

But the treatment of this subject was pathetic. The direction as well as the acting was mediocre. This playlet demended more sensitivity and vision than provided by the director. The boy tenaciously defends himself with the blunt dialogues he is given and imparts little effect on the audience. He is stripped of his dignity and tenderness that would have given more strength to his character. He is made to present his marks in english to justify his being poor in maths and he is made to invoke a number to drive his point home. Instead, his gift in arts could have been shown more subtly, less loudly and more effectively, and perhaps with an element of surprise as well. There should have baan a scene and a situation to do what is done by the boy. This surely would have done more justice to the purpose of the writer. But the writer didnt appreciate the power of the unsaid. And the director couldnt provide the dramatic effect to a good idea. The point is to be understood is that everyone knows what the writer wants to say, the content doesnt matter much here. Here you need to show the ghar-ghar ki kahani in such a manner that the audience realize that it is wrong. Art has a power to convert but there was little art in this play.

5. Down payment: I do not believe in comparisons but its simplicity made it the best. The choice of the subject could hardly have been better. I am in IT industry and I have seen people living their life hinged on credit cards and insurance policies. 'Take loan, shop and pay later' has become a lifestyle. We have become runaway consumers and we readily book a flat, a car and what not immediately after getting a job. We need such reminders.

The treatment of the subject was also good. The plot was very simple and it didnt need much input from the director. I am sure the audience will remember the message of this play long after they will have forgotten all the other.

On the whole, watching this play was a nice experience for me. It justified my riding to Jazz Garden, Koregaon Park, a place I am not very crazy about.

The villains and heroes around us

*continued..

##########

VILLAIN: This MLA is the REAL villain. But he is not a villain because he is an MLA. Dont get confused by (media-created) stereotypes. Open your eyes. He could very well be an Armani-clad, english (with french toppings!) speaking corporate mogul too. He comes in many forms, he changes faces, he very subtly disguises himself behind the various veils we naively provide to him.

They smile and smile and still be villain. - Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky)

The villain they show in the movies is unreal, a very simplified version of this real villain. This real villain is not loud and vulger. His looks are not abnormally made-up. You can hardly recognize him in a crowd. He is not even a one-man-army. He has, when he is alone, his limitations and his insecurities. This villain is rather a man of system; a part of a greater, much greater structure. He understands the system, respects it, submits to it and is happy with it. He very well understands the mechanism of power. He knows that power doesnt reside in an individual but in the network. This networks sustains him. This network protects him. And so he values his allies or contacts who are placed at (or are chosen from) the strategic positions. He knows the rules of the game. He knows what is exactly happening around. His runs his business smoothly in this perfectly harmonized world, a world of 'prey and let prey'. He is cheerfully sure of himself and he feels unassailable in this impregnable fortress. He is pleasant and sociable. He makes you like him. He asks you about your mother's health and your daughter's admission in the college. He takes pleasure in the trifling details of life. He has no ideal to die for. Infact he mocks at idealists and pities their naivety. He is cool amd amiable. He cracks jokes and keeps himself surrounded by giggling females. For him, morality(!!) exists within the system. He knows of no morality without it. His sense of corruption is distorted; interestingly but not surprisingly, for him disturbing the harmony, the equilibrium of the system is an act of corruption. He accepts the things as they are. He worships the rising sun, the right God. Very naturally, very comfortably he changes his loyalties and rationalizes his priorities. He is pragmatic. He is wise. In the later stages of his life you can hear him preaching about right and wrong, properiety and improperiety and 'money-is-not-everything'. He is necessarily religious and invokes mythological(which are at his fingertips) events and metaphors to support his actions and position every now and then. All his goons are his Hanumans! For even worse things(promiscuity or politics of the most diabolical nature), Krishna is dragged down from heavens. He goes for pilgrimage every year. And finally he builds a temple and settles all the accounts.

##########

HERO: On the other hand our DCP saheb is a poor victim of his own ideals. He burdens his mind with the things that are outdated and that noone takes seriously. Perhaps he takes life a little too seriously. Perhaps he should not. He actually gets distressed by seeing others in distress. Perhaps he should not. Remember Dr Bhaskar Bannerjee in Anand? Remember his angst, his bitterness? Remember his grit with which he fights his own helplessness before the enormity of the monster he was fighting with? Like his other friends, he can not pretend to be pained by the ubiquitous misery around him at one moment and gleefully plan a comedy movie the next moment. Perhaps he should also learn to ignore things. Perhaps he should also learn to forget things.

But he doesnt forget what his father had tought him when he was a kid. He doesnt forget even when his father himself teaches him just the opposite of what he had tought him when he was a kid. He is incorrigibly idealistic. He just doesnt understand that the real world is not that good.

The real world is a place where everyone is converting into bad simply because everyone else is doing so!

To start with, he is a betrayed man. He has been betrayed by his books and teachers. Oh how I wish he knew the efficacy with which the books cover the reality! That realization wouldve averted the disillusionment and heartbreak. He is like a man who was trained in cricket and was sent to a stadium where a football match was being played. And he stood like an idiot in the middle of the playground with his bat, amazed and clueless, amid guffawing spectators. What should he do there? He is like an actor who finds himself totally out of place at the stage. He finds that a different play is being staged. Imagine this situation! He is not required, not wanted but still he is there. He feels absolutely alienated there. What does a hero do here? We'll come to that in a while.

He observes that the real world works very differently from the bookish world. And noone cares or dares to write what actually happens around us. There are things that are known to all but said by none. He wonders why the world is like that. He wonders what to do with his bat in the football match?

Catch 22. Since he can function only within a (legal) framework and the framework is itself a device of the system, it is deliberately not made powerful enough to challenge the system. If he chooses to fight his battle without the (legal) framework then he himself becomes an outlaw, a criminal! He is nothing outside the system. He needs the system to beat it! And of course the system would not allow itself to be beaten. But this was so ridiculously simple! Why didnt he think it earlier? When he realizes the obvious absurdity in his erstwhile expectation, he feels foolish and frustrated.

He might decide to take the things head-on. Then he finds himself living against someone or something. Always. 24*7. His life virtually becomes a guerilla war, he finds himself thinking about the moves of the game he has pushed himself into. This game takes a toll on his personal life too. He most likely becomes irascible and grows sharp claws that hurt those who are near to him. His relationships start suffering. People gradually start avoiding him. After sometime he feels so much lonely that his battle seems to be only for the sake of his ego and nothing else. Perpetual loneliness cast a shadow on his life. He doesnt know what to do. Remember Shool?

Most of the people dont see the life of heroism beyond this stage. They succumb to the mounting pressure. But he, the hero, persists. He has the character to persist.

He starts delivering his dialogues at the stage. He doesnt mind others. He doesnt mind their indifference. He doesnt mind their hoots, their cries, and their vociferous protests. He deflates the self-assurance of the other actors who were banking on his passivity. Now it's their turn to be taken by surprise. Now it's their turn to feel that they are vulnerable too. The audience come to know about the other, the alternative play. Now they can choose between the two. They first step is taken. The first battle is won.

Camus says that the ultimate hero of humanity is Sisyphus* (read this). He somewhat repeats to what Krishna had suggested to Arjun (Karmanyevadhikaraste.. or Swadharme nadhanam shreyah paradharmoh bhayavayah) in Bhagavat Geeta.

A hero exhibits an unflinching faith, an indomitable devotion in his purpose. He stands by his values. He lives for what he believes in and he dies for the same. He might not be pragmatic but then a hero is NEVER a practical man. A practical, worldly man can never evoke strong emotions and respect from us.

The hero makes his own way. He challenges the unchallengables. He defeats the skepticism of others who are too weak to do so. He breaks the matrix by breaking its nodes one by one, with utmost patience. I have recently watched a movie called 'Ek ruka hua faisla'. In this movie, a man, who is the hero, changes the opinion of all his adversaries one by one. Watch the movie to see why this man is a hero.

Popular cinema perpetuates the myth that a vanquishing a villain is a necessary condition for a man to be a hero. Infact even the presence of an external villain is not needed. A man becomes a hero by winning over hsi own frailties that are abundant in anyone of us. This is an important point to understand.

The concept of hero is very interesting, as I see it. Initially people pull his leg, they block his way, they deny him their attention, they make fun of him. Perhaps they do it perhaps because they refuse to accept his superiority over them. Those who are near to him do it out of jealousy and others because of habit. But once he crosses a threshold, they admire him and raise him up. They positively want him to rise higher and shine brighter. They look up to him. He becomes the center of their hope. They fight on behalf of him coz they fight through him. They win through him. They live through him. They need him for themselves. He gives them a direction. He leads them. He frees them.

First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win. - Mahatma Gandhi

* Greek Mythology: Sisyphus is forced to roll a block of stone against a steep hill, which tumbles back down when he reaches the top. Then the whole process starts again, lasting all eternity.

My description of villain and hero might seem to you philosophically unteneble or unfounded. It might be dificult to be defended but it is not unfounded. This is what I have seen in my life and I have written it here at the risk of being laughed at in case you find yourself unable to relate to my experiences. Let me say that it is in no way an exhaustive definition or something of that sort. I never intend to do that. I have never done that. The scope of this essay is just a part of what I have seen and felt. I recognize that it is incomplete.

'I am amuse' - the background of the critique

What weakens our existential position? It is a very interesting question answering of which demands a deep delving into the depths of human psychology. I am not going to attempt this question. I am only going to start this post with it.

Lets imagine: you are an honest and idealist DCP and you have waged a war against the local mafia. The MLA is known to be the man behind the illegal activities too. He is the Godfather of the prominent gang operating in the area. You have arrested many goons of his gang and raided his godowns with remarkable success. There is a virtual cold-war between you and him. You can very well imagine the tension involved in such type of battle if you have seen 'Shool'.

One fine day you get a call by your delirious wife about the kidnapping of your daughter from her school. You, being a police officer, are doubly targetted by this. Your love as well as your honour is at stake. You unleash the full force of the police machinary to rescue your child but all your efforts go in vain. Also you can not do anything rash here. You are lying utterly helpless and wretched beside your half-dead wife at your home.

The next day in evening the MLA turns up with his wife to show his sympathy and solidarity at this hour of crisis.

- What to say at this hour of crisis? But I very well guessed they were after you. This is how they are, the bastards, the cowards! This is how they go on doing their business. Murder, kidnapping, and what not, nothing is what they wouldnt do to meet their ends. They have made a hell out of this place. They should be encountered or hanged without trail. They dont deserve any mercy. Is this how you earn money? They are a shame on the name of this place! Even I do business. But kidnapping? Never! Murder? Ram Ram! But look at the irony. The opposition has made me God knows what. I am the most misunderstood man I tell you.

-

- But it's sad that the police is also misguided. I, the humble servant of people, am branded as a thief, a robber, a criminal! Wasnt it for the love of my people I would have committed suicide in grief. But I was and I am hopeful that everyone will see the truth someday. I have full faith in God. God has given me whatever I have and I am sure He will not deny me justice either.

-

- I am bearing this pain for my people. But what makes you playing with your life? And your familiy's life? Look at your wife! I cant see her like this. My wife is also a mother. She can better understand her plight. She urged me to see you and help you in whichever way I could. So I am here. You might consider me your enemy but you can not ignore the fact that I am as old as your father. I have seen the world more than you. No book or degree will teach you the experience I have. You are like a son to me. Seeing you like this gives me an unbearable pain. My heart cries out for you.

-

- Look. I know this gang very well. This man used to wash my car a few days back before his soaring ambition took him away from me, to the path of crime like kidnapping. He may not be with me anymore but I know people who can help us. Only if you want. Your police force, I am sure, will do nothing but endanger the life of the kid. You have been quite childish in the past. You dont understand the practicalities of life. Duty is okay but you should have been more careful and more discreet.

-

- Leave it. Now dont regret what have you done. At your age everyone commits some mistake. Make sure you dont repeat them. You must learn something from your experiences. I would be happy if you treat me as your friend. And you, Beti, dont cry, and dont worry. As long as I am here nothing will happen to your child. She will return home safe. And very soon.

Can you say a NO to his offer? No, you can not because you are a man, not God. Only God is supposed to be get away with Godly moralities because he is powerful and invulnerable. We mortals must prepare ourselves for severe punishments for flaunting moralities.

How would you feel? How would you feel in recieving help from your worst enemy? How would you react? Could you afford to be the same police officer as you were? What would remain the same in you?

Think and look at the question again.

What weakens our existential position?

Note: Whatever, this is not the point. This is just a background for the critique of the play I just watched. And for my portrait of Hero and Villain.

Happy Independence Day

I had been a cynic for a long time. However I had never been in love with my cynicism. I had always wanted freedom from it. I had always wanted to feel the fresh air around me as I felt when I was a kid. I still remember how bright were the days when hope lighted my thoughts. I yearned for the evenings which were full of fun. I wanted to grow young!

I dont know when the shadow of pessimism eclipsed my eyes. I have no clue since when I started looking at the world as if there was nothing new to see. As if nothing new was there to listen and nothing new was there to say. A big sense of all-embracing obviousness rendered me incapable to appreciate the small, innocent joys of everyday life. Very discreetly and very insidiously it took possession of my mind. A perpetual frown marked the shape of my face. Suspicion and paranoia became the complexion of my thoughts. My sun seemed to set for ever.

Suddenly the silence of my life was pierced by a tune, a tune I was waiting to hear since eternity. It was a tune of hope, a music of optimism, a sound of victory which re-created life in me. It was like a magic, like a miracle, as if all the stars came close to me to rescue me from the deathly jaws of darkness. I am feeling enlightened again. I am overwhelmed with hope again. Life is surging inside me again. Though I have nothing with me. But that doesnt matter to me. My hands are empty. But that never makes anyone poor anyway. It's the mind. It's the mind that makes you rise from the deepest ditches. I have nothing with me but hope. And a will. And so I have all. My eyes are moist with this nostalgic youthfulness. Today I am feeling free. Today is my independence day. Today my sun rose in my life. Tonight is my deepawali.

Oh where had I lost myself? But by His grace I am back to myself. I am so thankful to Him! With bent knees, clasped fists held closely to my chest, closed eyes and incorruptible faith I am praying to Him. Oh lord, make me worthy of my goal and lead me to a goal worthy of myself. Oh lord, give me strength. Give me strength to endure the pain that would welcome me in the way. Give me the strength to ignore the temptations that would lure me to the less painful. Give strength to my dreams so that they could break the myth of reality. Give me strength to fight my complacencies. Give me strength to run alone. Bless my purpose and give strength in my devotion. Give me strength to keep myself worthy of your kindness.

I have been sleeping for long. I see no trace of the caravan I was a part of. All I see is a settling fog of sand there. They must have gone that way. Enough of resting and enough of sleeping. I need to run now and I will run now. I will run faster than I ever ran. I will run faster than anyone had ever run. It's a run for life; it's a run for redemption. There are some promises to be fulfilled, there are some dreams to be realized. I cant wait anymore.

- yours truly,
the state of Bihar

Non-vegetarianism and Raping 'the others'

Vegetarianism is one of the very few doctrines I staunchly adhere to. Frequently I am confronted by the question - why I dont eat meat. My non-veg friends start throwing superlatives about the sublimity of the sensual delight it produces in your mouth. Then they urge me to 'try' it. My surname encourages them to assume that I hail from a meatophobic family background. So far so good. But then a very unexpected I-used-to-eat-non-veg-but-quit-it long-back comes as a bouncer and then they are often caught in surprise. 'Why?', they wail in pain. But generally I refuse to speak more about this subject to them. I fear that would create a bad taste in their mouth.

But it was different with Akshay. I knew he is one of them who know to dive deep into meaningful discussions with full fervor without getting too much attached to it. It is a very rare quality which I rarely found in anyone else after Ashutosh.

Without any prelude I put forward my view on non-vegetarianism.

- it is like rape, equally hideous and horrible.
- Why rape? Why not murder?
- I know nothing more inhuman and repugnant than rape. That's why.

Well, that doesn't sounds convincing at first. But there are parallels between slaughtering an animal and raping a person. Let me explain my point.

1. Compare the pleasure one gets by eating the most sumptuous non-veg delicacy to the pain that the animal suffers. Is there any comparison? And any justification? (No, you dont have to justify anything to me. But what about your own conscience?)

Similarly raping a woman or molesting a child for the ephemeral sensual or non-sensual gratification can NOT be justified, in any language, under any circumstances. It is outrightly criminal, inhuman act which is unworthy of any kindness and consideration. It is one of the most shameful thing I know a person can do to another.

There are certain extenuating circumstances where muder can be justified, can be defended, can even be glorified. But I can not think the same about rape. Again, similarly, killing an animal for a fleeting gustatory orgasm is too inordinately cruel an act to allow any sympathy. Yes, doing it for survival is a different issue and a VERY special case. I dont know anyone who has been stranded on an island and was forced to kill animals for his sustainence. But it is routinely presented as a readymade explanation. This is a very dishonest argument and it exhibits nothing but a plain lack of cooperation in a meaningful discussion. You simply can not convince these type of people. They are incorrigibly corrupt.

Again, murder is not always committed by a stronger person. But rape is a power game, or more precisely an overpower game. It is primitive to the core of this word. It is DISGUSTING. Same with non-veg, you kill because you can. But I think it is extremely shallow to exercise might on meek and weak.

- OK. Cool it. They are made to be eaten by us. It is natural.
As you are made to be eaten by a cannibal. As women are made to be exploited by men. As the poor is made to be starved by the rich. History echoes in your voice my friend. As blacks were made to be slaves by Whites. As Jews were made to be unworthy of any human dignity by Germans. As the Chinese were made an object of the most atrocious amusement by the Japanese in Nanking. Anyone can be made to be anything that way.

Would you have this as a categorical imperative - a universal rule? Oh no, you want it to wreck havoc at some selected places, and affect some selected people. And those places should be far from your home isnt? Sorry my friend, you can not live at a safe island that is surrounded by a stormy sea. If you think that you can, you think pathetically. Better outsource thinking to someone else.

This is again a very insincere argument where you know that the person himself is not convinced by his argument. He even wants you to know this by letting go a smile at the corner of his mouth for a moment. Since his stance is absolutely untenable he will try to trivialize it. What else can he do anyways? Sometimes I dont but sometimes I do find this outrageously satanic. The evil seems so deeply rooted in man that every human endeavor towards the establishment of peace seems farcical.

Man! Admit it. You never wanted peace. Peace is too boring for your taste. You always, secretly, longed to see blood. Werent you there cheering feverishly for (or against) Maximus while he was fighting for his life in the Colosseum? Dont you feel the same, dont you titillate your senses in the same perverse manner, when a matador deceives (or fails to deceive) a charging bull? You always wanted to enjoy the sight of soil moist with red blood, you always craved for its sweet hot smell. And you have never tried to even diagnose this very basic problem to cure it. Perhaps you never wanted to be cured. Only when you are plundered, brutally massacred and savagely raped, then only your dormant, nearly extinct faculty of humanity gets activated. Isnt it so? It is all about sides. Which side you are at- dominating or dominated.

2. This let them die attitude has killed us. Because we are also them for them. We have never been serious about solving the real problem. Only when you fall at the wrong side, you crib and wail. Otherwise you rock and roll. And that is why NOTHING WILL SAVE US.

Our very attitude towards 'the other' is vicious and pernicious. Let me elaborate.

It is very disturbing observation that the evaluation of an act is done only after knowing who was subjected to it. For instance- Killing a Pakistani is not so bad. Raping a dalit woman is not that unpermissible. Voting for a corrupt politician is okay if he happens to be of your own caste. Thankfully the stillborn was a girl child!

This apathy (nay, antipathy) has permeated our thought process profoundly. This even vitiate our sexuality. Khushwant Singh encashes this hidden perverseness of ours by writing 'Company of woman' where he strips girls of different religions and communities and tickles the testicles of us animals. Read that book which is far worse than pornography because it tries to render sex a political act. Can you imagine anything more replulsive?

The other has always been too bad to deserve a stay here. They should either be assimilated or purged. You should seduce their girls and marry them in order to convert them. You should divide them and multiply yourself. You should save your holy land from their unholy presence. You should beat them, loot them, rape them and kill them because it is them and as long as you do this to them this is not bad.

This is our morality in practice. And this is precisely why morality is sterile. It has been reduced to academic pastime taken with biscuits and coffee but not with seriousness and respect.

Our practical morality dictates that animals are fit to be killed and eaten because unlike you they are four-footed; because they can not protest; because they don't have political say; because they are weak. They must be, therefore, subjected to wait for a sharp scary weapons to rip their flesh apart before their helpless eyes. And doing that is not crime!

But the same act becomes a crime when someone does that to you or your kid! And you think it will work for you! No it won't. It didn't. Look - the color of human history is black-red - the color of dead blood. This is because of our dual mentality. And you know what - It is abominable! Cutting throat is abominable whether if is accompanied by mantra of Vedas or verses of Quran. There is no escape from death and truth.

It is inhuman to slit throats even if the throat being slit is not human. There are two types of people - those who can slit throats and those who can not. Those who can cut the throat of a speechless, defenseless, animal while looking in its eyes can do the same to your kid as well. This is to be understood at a social level. I am not talking about any particular sections of people, all of us share that cruelty inside us. We have inherited it collectively.

Killing is all about doing it once. It is all about crossing the threshold. Then it is easy. Then numbers dont matter to us. Death doesn't happen twice. Try to understand this. Words fail to describe what I am feeling right now. All I can say is that I am ashamed to be one of us. If human being is doomed to sufferings till death, it is justified because he deserves it.

Open your eyes. Cant you see how interconnected everything is? Take the cock-fight in Lucknow or the fight of gladiators in Rome. They are same. Dont you feel chicken were a cheap substitute for men in Awadh? Wont a visit to the Colosseum would have been a dream come true for Miya Jumman, since he would get to see the REAL stuff? How can we ignore this glaring similarity? It is too seriously related to us to be taken non-seriously.

This is now when I feel that only Gandhi could rescue us from ourselves. Only if we wanted to. But evidently we didnt.

- Then why do you eat plants? Even they have life.

True. But they dont have eyes. They dont talk to us. How much cruelty do you invoke to boil a potato? And what about the Jain hierarchy of senses? Doesnt it make any sense to you?

But above all my intention is to make you realize the disasterous consequences of allowing cruelty to others. We need to wage an internal war against this. Words wouldnt help much. This is not an issue of persuasion but of realization. Ultimately humanity would find salvation through Ahimsa which doesnt just mean not killing but it means not even having a desire of killing. We need to evolve ourselves to reach this height. The evolved world will be made on the foundation of Ahimsa only.

It is not late if we start even now. Camus launched a solo, and successful, campaign to abolish capital punishment in France and the mankind took a step ahead. Lets stop consuming carcass of animals and take one more step. It is highly unaesthetic to convert a beautiful living fish into a disgraceful slab of dead flesh. Let us admire life as long we are alive! Let us respect the sanctity of body as long as we have one!

Have a heart, be vegetarian. If you dont have that at least have a mind. If you dont have that too anyways you are in hell and thats where you will go sooner or later.

My understanding of freedom

Freedom: One of a few words which has become so powerful that it even dominates the meaning it denotes. It has become dangerously and dreadfully popular among those who are awed by the words and think in terms of words rather than ideas. I believe that this type of thinking is worse than not thinking at all. And I tell you that the people who want to display their cognitive muscles through swelling words constitute the majority! The word, the celibrity is leading the majority like a herd of lemmings are led for mass suicide. Credulity kills and so a blind devotion to this word will kill us. Do I sound skeptical? Perhaps I am. But perhaps I am just being careful and I have my reasons. This word has turned into a Frankestein. This word has started to hitler our thought process now, it has become the answer of every question asked, it is now an unfailing argument against every reason. It has grown cancerously in our system. And we are there intellectually prostrated, helplessly, cluelessly, before this enigmatically misunderstood monster, a hyped product of our own elusive, deceitful intellect.

What is freedom? Is it a means or an ends? That's the main question to answer. Do we ever care to think about it? I feel a splitting headache when people use this word as if it has outgrown every possible context, as if this word means something of its own, in isolation, without anything required before or after it! What a shameless submission before sheer nonsense! This is nothing but mental laziness!

For me this word means NOTHING if not followed by at least one of the prepositions 'from' or 'of/for'. Actually it makes sense only when 'freedom for' decides 'freedom from'. Let me elucidate my point.

Suppose I say I am free or I want freedom. What does it mean? It, the word freedom, often sounds intellectually intimidating to us but that's it. It is made to be arrogant like that because it has nothing else in it. It has no content at all. Ok man you are free. Free from what?? Space? Time? Death? Life? Gravity? Market? Media? Instincts? What??????

I can very well be thrown at escape velocity into the vast limitless boundless space but even THAT wouldnt make me ABSOLUTELY free. Yes I could say I am free of gravity but, speaking abstractly, there would be many other forces which would determine my trajectory and mock at my impossible and naive quest for an unlimited freedom. What does this mean anyway? To me its a farce, an intellectual waste, nothing else. How can we be absolutely free as long as I am spacially and temporarily bound. I can not be at two places at a time. And this binding dilimits me and defines me. It gives me my identity. It makes me what I am. At a particular space and particular time, here and now, I exist. I will be lost if I somehow get scattered in all the dimensions of space and time. I am when there is something else so this I becomes meaningful. I am only when I am finite. And finite is not free, for it is bound. So, theoritically speaking, it is this very lack of freedom that gives me my existence. Any false sense (or nonsense) of freedom can only mislead us and misguide us and this is precisely what it is doing. It is breaking relationships. This inordinate longing for freedom is bound to sever every thread we are tied with. It is doing this because we have lost our wisdom, our sense of balance. We have allowed ourselves to be led astray by it. I remember a picture from a story I read when I was a kid- 'The pied piper of Hamlin', a pictute of hundreds of rats following a piper. We are also following a few hip ideas, blindly, without proper examination, we have always done so. And we have suffered a lot.

The pursuit of freedom is like preparing for some admission test. You dont do it endlessly. You dont do it for its own sake. It is unthinkable to do so. Once you are through the test you study the subject you want to. Similarly the attainment of freedom enables us to do the thing we wanted to do. Otherwise freedom has no intrinsic value of its own. In 60s, the aimless youth of US attemped to find some inherent value in freedom per se but we all know that it was a failed experiment. The cool combo of six-string and cocaine could not procure salvation to them. The hippy culture is dead. Some of them burnt themselves out and others faded away.

But it is we who are responsible for it. We have placed disproportionate weightage to this cult word which had initially a beautiful meaning and a promising role to play in our society. Again and again I've been quoting the Greek philosopher Paracelsus who made a beautiful observation and highlighted the value of balance. Let me repeat it because it is germane to do so here: Every substance is a poison. There is none that is not. It is the dose which determines whether it is a poison or a medicine. Wisdom is nothing but a sense of proportion. We must not discard it if we are serious about ourselves. But here we have allowed ourselves to be awed and led by this word-freedom. It seems that freedom has outshined wisdom in terms of popularity.

We are being told, glibly and irrisponsibly, to break every bond. Man is so delighed with his discovery of challenging conventions is that he is not thinking twice before throwing the baby with the bath water. But is it not potentially devastating? It has to be. It is too convenient an idea to be making sense. Unless you know what freedom is for how would you know and why would you bother to know what it is from. It is the for which decides the from. If the from is decided without the knowledge of for then freedom becomes not just useless but a threat to one's well-being. Without this for, freedom is a mark of curse, it's an ill-omen which would bring doom in life. It makes us wander in the infinity like a dead leaf swayed by the most flippant gust of air. It strips us of our gravity, our roots.

Hermann Hesse says the first statue a child breaks is that of his father. This is how he comes out of the shadow of his father and becomes a man. How true! But it could be fathomlessly detrimental for the future of a child if he takes this at its face value. Talking personally, I am not an obedient son. I have never been perhaps. I have defied norms, stopped worshipping or participating in puja, threw my janeu and so on. I always strove for independence. But there was an unsaid conract between me and my parents. I never disobeyed them just for the sake of it, just to be different or just because it made me feel great. Never. I freed myself from these things for some reasons which appeared reasonable to me and then to my parents too. My parents could very well have been unreasonable. But in that case also I was doing it with a clear purpose and not because someone said so. I never fell in the traps set by those who define what is in for the youth. I have always been anachronistic in my own ways.

Finally, One needs to realize, very urgently, the poisonous side-effects of the gratuitous misuse of this word. Terms like free-trade, free-market, free-will etc are floating in air in such an abundance that it chokes our imagination. Half of them are quixotic and are used as a verbal trickery, as trump cards against every other argumant, and others are ridiculous. As ridiculous like a character in Crime and Punishment who wants his wife to indulge in adultery just because he is in love with his self-image of a progressive man who allows his wife to be free.

Those who grow on me

I read. Gradually I feel my taste has become more refined. Or perhaps I feel it should be so. Under the influence of the rising demands of my elevated taste or its pressing supposition, I have started reading the works of art which are percieved to be read exclusively by the people of superior taste.

I read a few great works of prose by some of the icons of literature. It includes Dr Zhivago by Pasternak, Hundred years of solitude by Marquez, The stranger by Camus to name a few. I shared a common feeling while reading each of these books- I found each of them overestimated. I finished the last page and closed the book with a sigh of relief.

The next feeling was more remarkable. It started with Dr Zhivago. Somehow I felt that I was not able to forget that snow covered landscape that the author has painted before my mind. This was amazing because I had dismissed the book with the verdict - 'overestimated'. I read the lines again which I had underlined when I went home. I was thoroughly enthralled by it this time. The genius of Pasternak was revealing itself to my mind which is, I admit, difficult to be permeated by if not impervious to the novel ideas. I was slightly ashamed of my ineptness but more than that I was happy to discover it, though late. One of my friends used to call me tubelight. She was right.

This incident of late realization was not an exceptional case, a deviation. And for my good. Marquez made little sense to me and I rated his next book 'Love at the times of cholera' better. But my lack of understanding couldnt enjoy its stay in my mind for long and a sudden realization evicted it forever. The image of Pietro Crespi and the butterflies following him occupied my dreams and reveries. I felt the way I looked at the world changed with time. It's he who developed my sense of imagery and more than that- the faculty of olfaction. Now I smell songs, smell words... I can smell each page of Arundhati Roy's The God of small things or Rut aa gayi re (1947 Earth) because I had met Marquez in the way.

The stranger was covered in a train journey. But it look me a long to uncover it. Why this fuss all about was my unsaid response. Later on when the picture Camus created refused to escape my mind, I understood what makes things great. Unlike 1984 which gave me goosebumps every minute I read and faded sooner than later, the stranger was anything but love at the first sight. But he was not in hurry either. He took the little space I contemptuously gave in my little mind and slowly started growing making even my mind grow with him. It was extraordinary!!

Good books dont end with their pages. They start with their last pages rather. They grow within us. They sustain us. This is what i have realized and written on the last good book I have finished (if this is a right word)- Narcissus and Goldmund.

The relation between a good mind and a good book is like a friendship of two good human beings. As a subhashit(Sanskrit-word of wisdom) says - the friendship of petty people is like the shadow of first half which reduces as the day progresses whereas the friendship of noble people is like the shadow of seconds half which grows larger with time.

Dont you feel the same? With books, with music, with people?

I was relieved to find myself loving the last great piece of literature I read- Old man and the sea by Ernest Hemingway. He must be a great man to have written such a beautiful book. It is far far better than any bestseller self-help book you will see in the market. And here I am talking about only one feature of this great work - its ability to inspire. I think it is, at least in parts, one of the best explanation of the widely misunderstood shloka as I undderstand it- Karmanyevadhikaraste ma faleshu kadachana...

Ravana and Oedipus Rex

I saw 'Hanuman' a couple of days back. It's a cute movie with a few thought bytes randomly thrown to the people. I am fond of animation movies so I bothered myself to ride to the theater after around 4-5 months. I find them so beautiful! And even surrealistic sometimes!

Before I digress let me come to the point I wish to talk about. Let me first brief you about what Aristotle has said about Greek Tragedies in his Poetics. He has conceptualized it and postulated three main elements of tragedy; 1.Hubris, 2.Hamartia, and 3.Catharsis. Hubris is excessive pride and arrogance, hamartia means the fatal mistake which causes the fall of the protagonist, and catahrsis is the purgation of negative emotions.

I had read Oedipus Rex by Sophocles in my last year at IITD. Yeah he is the same Oedipus of 'Oedipus complex' fame who kills his father and marries his mother and later on gets popularised by Freud.

Oedipus is a gifted child with extraordinary abilities. But he is accursed and doomed to bring terrible disasters upon his father, the king. He is sent away to be killed in a jungle but the kind hearted servant spares him. He is raised by someone else and grows as an man of strength and values. One day he gets to know about his accursed fate that he is to kill his father and marry his mother. Absolutely shaken, he decides to leave his parents as well as the city. In the way he encounters his real father, the old king, and thoroughly disturbed he was, gets into a scrap with the king. Fuming with anger he kills the old king. Then he comes to know the custom of the city- one who kills the king gets the throne and marries the queen. See how his destiny finally catches him despite so much human protest. Terrible things follow later on..

This is representative Greek tragedy. The protagonist is a man of high stature endowed with the best qualities but one weakness- hubris. This hubris prompts him to commit an act far below his dignity, the last error which opens the doors to hell- hamartia. The simple audience, fully in awe of the man, realizes what can hubris do to them if such tragedies befall such great men. Their negative, distructive emotions gets purged, fully or partially, and they feel a cathartic experience. Also, it demosntrate divine superiority over human beings.

Now I think I am done with the background.

Lets come back to Hanuman. Perhaps our ancient philosophers were aware of this technique of purgation. But they could not theorize it as Aristotle. I found striking similarities between the characters of Ravana and Oedipus. Ravana was not a petty man, a backstreet rapist. He was a man of knowledge, power and principles. He was a devout Shaiv brahmin who could rock the Singhasan of Indra too. Let us ignore mythological details and just say that he was an elevated man. Not selected by Sita in her swayamvar, he was seething with anger and at last his hurt vanity made him do the lowliest act- abducting a woman for amorous fulfillment. (This is one of the many versions of mythology but this is what they showed in the movie.) That ultimately becomes the cause of his fall.

Can you find the similarity? I found it so amazing!!

main aisa kyon hoon!

Sometimes I feel ashamed of everything that I have written here. I am feeling so right now. And it is a very curious feeling. I dont know if I should be feeling like this. I dont even know when should I feel like this. All I know that I am feeling shameful for whatever I have done here. And as I write here, this feeling is subsiding slowly. How can the cause of a malady be the cure also?

Writing is a product of one's thought process or it takes one away from his thoughts in order to save oneself from his own thoughts?

Can thinking and writing be done simultaneously? One of my friends justified his misspellings and other errors in his essay by saying that he was too engrossed in his thoughts. Perhaps he was right. Either you stay connected and recieve signals or you disconnect. Later on you write down. But sometimes the thought bytes vanish as soon as the cognitive radar is disconnected. I dont know if I am making any sense but it happens with me. So you tend to scribble whatever comes into your mind. This leaves the essay poorly structured. The form suffers for the sake of content.

It is interesting to analyse your state of mind and try to find out the reason for your emotions. It is interesting because it is, I feel, next to impossible. At least for me it is. My mind is too muddled to examine itself. You might have noticed that I am using 'I feel' very often instead of the polpular alternative 'I think'. But the problem with feelings us that they mislead too often. Thinking has its limitations but it hardly loses its grounds.

O my mind! I am unable to understand you because I am unable to detach myself from you. I am too close to you to see you.

This sense of shame is partly because of comparison. The more I attempt to jump out of the pit of mediocrity, I admit, I see it myself sunk deeper in its jaws. It is really frustrating to realize that you can not write what you can be proud of. Why is it that we can not create what we can appreciate?

Should I forget it or come to terms with it, or fight with it?