The fate of 31st

2008 is not blind. He has eyes and he can see. He can see how people are treating the poor old 2007. Also, in his mind, he can look back and see the day when the same people had cheered and welcomed 2007. They had decorated their homes and greeted one another on his coming. They had thrown parties when he had arrived. It was not long back when they were running towards him with outstretched arms, hugging him and kissing him. How precious, how special, they had made him feel that night! And barely an year after that night, they can't wait for him to leave!

2007 will leave anyway. And he wouldn't ever come back. But it hurts to see people deserting him in the last moments. And they have not taken any effort to hide their impatience. It hurts to see how people carried other's luggage into his room while he was still packing. He wanted to scream - 'I am still here, I am not dead yet', but these things can not be said without looking ridiculous. And he doesn't want to look jealous either. He doesn't grudge a welcome party for 1st, but deep in his heart he did expect a few kind words of farewell for 31st.

But such is the fate of 31st that even his flowers seem to cause a delay the arrival of spring. He feels like an actor whose dialogs have been given to someone else, and who still has to stand on the stage for the time allotted to him, sweating in uncomfortable silence, freezing under unsympathetic gaze. As soon as he arrives, he is made to realize how eagerly people want him to leave! And when he departs, he hears the sound of crackers behind his footsteps.

2008 knows very well that it is not him who they embrace. It was not 2007 who they had embraced and it will not be 2009 who they will embrace. They embrace whatever is 'new' and he knows well no one has remained 'new' for long. He knows that he will also be sent like this - unceremoniously - wrapped in an ominous quiet, amid noisy wait for someone 'new'.

On Ambition

It's good for you if you like it, but do remember it's not there because you like it.

Economic growth is no longer a matter of choice. It's no longer optional. It's a political imperative. Similarly, and consequently, ambition is not optional for individuals anymore.

A tree that bears fruits is a good tree. An animal with a bulging udder is a good animal. The more fruit, the better the tree; the more the milk, the better the animal. 'Good' is a purely utilitarian concept, which reduces existence of a living being to mere usability. By the same token, if I don't have fruits, flesh or milk for others, and they tag me 'bad'. But why must it bother me? Do we live to please others? Perhaps yes. That's why we die to be good student in institutes, good employee in organization, and good consumer in market.

Do ambitious people live a better life? Or a more meaningful life? I don't think so. I don't think Alexander was great, and I don't think his life was meaningful. Ambition is just an acceptable and a more sophisticated term for greed. Fathered by a complex, it further fathers complex. It spreads like a communicable disease. That's what ambition is - a communicable disease.

Besides, I often feel that the ambition that we call ours is not really ours. We carry out someone else’s ambition like our own, and worse - at expense of our own. The question to be asked is – whose ambition is my ambition?

Coming back to growth, it's like love making or rape depending on the consent of the other. One is led to thinks why someone would be so much interested in others' growth? Whose growth is it?

The Resurrection of Dada

I love Saurav Ganguly for showing this gesture. Look at the joy on his face at his teammate's success. Each one of us knows in her/his heart that it takes a character to tolerate, let alone celebrate, your neighbor's success. Not everyone can achieve that character, that strength, and that peace of mind. This man indeed has a Lion's heart; and he wears that heart in his sleeves. Perhaps that's why he gets carried away; takes off his shirt, runs into the arena like a little boy and hugs his boys like an affectionate father. Perhaps that's why Dada is loved like no other cricketer in India, passionately, and unconditionally! For skill and technique can command respect and awe but not what we call love. Love is bestowed upon those who, once in a while, do get carried away by it. This post is a tribute to the spirit of Dada - the beloved Prince of Kolkata, and to the most inspiring comeback in the history of Indian cricket.

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If you're looking for a clue to what has helped Sourav Ganguly sustain his spectacular run in Test cricket since his return at the fag end of last year, don't bother looking at his footwork or the flow of his bat. Take, instead, a close look at his eyes while he is batting. They speak of a calmness that borders on serenity, and a combination of composure and resolve. You could see it in his comeback innings in Johannesburg, which fetched him an unbeaten 51, and you could see it through his epic innings in Bangalore that marked a new high in his career.

In his bowling, and on the field, we have seen the more familiar Ganguly; excitable, emotional, even fiery. He has appealed cantankerously and celebrated his wickets and catches with child-like gusto. His batting hasn't lacked his natural flair - in fact, he has been batting with greater freedom than he did in the period leading up to his temporary banishment - but the most noticeable feature about his cricket has been his poise. It hasn't left him even after he has occasionally been cornered into an awkward position by a short ball.

He has let himself go only once: it was an emotional moment, getting to his first hundred before his adoring home fans. But his celebration after he got to his first double-hundred, a landmark he sought and will cherish, was far more subdued. There was the raising of the arms and the acknowledgment of applause from his team-mates and the crowd. But then there was also a series of little pumps of the fist, and a waving of the helmet. Those were for himself. There was an air of fulfillment, of a man celebrating privately in public. His smile touched a million hearts: his struggle to regain his place, and some would say his honour, have been among the most stirring and uplifting stories in cricket.

Let's be done with the numbers first. Incredibly for a man who was given up for dead, 2007 has been his most successful year statistically. Potentially he has three innings left still, and he has already scored 932 runs at 62.13. His most prolific year to date has been 2002, when he managed 945 runs - but it took him 16 Tests back then. Put together, 2005 and 2006 yielded him only 422 runs from 11 Tests at 28.13, and that included a painstaking hundred against a hopeless Zimbabwean bowling attack.

The manner of his removal, first from captaincy and then from the team, continues to rankle with his supporters, and surely with him. But it is undeniable that from that low has emerged this high. It was perhaps a bit disingenuous for Greg Chappell to claim credit for Ganguly's revival, but in the cold light of the day, the exile, the sheer indignation of it, did make the revival possible, and ultimately far more poignant.

The credit for it must go entirely to Ganguly, for few rational observers would have seen it coming. It wasn't just that the runs had dried up; his skills, his responses, seemed to have deserted him, and he bore the look of a haunted man.

He owes his return to a change in the selection committee, but the rest of the story is about a man who simply refused to surrender to what seemed inevitable to most. Much can be said about his improved footwork and the decisiveness of his stroke-making, but in the end, it has been a triumph of spirit, of incredible strength of mind and faith.

Remarkably, in a batting line-up featuring Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid, Ganguly has been India's best batsman since his return. Not merely for consistency and the number of runs scored - during the course of his double-hundred he became India's leading run--getter this year - but for the assuredness of the manner in which he has made them. His half-century in his return Test in Johannesburg, though subdued and a bit laboured, helped India to what ultimately turned out to be a match-winning first-innings total in a low-scoring Test. And in the decisive Test in Cape Town, only he looked fluent and in control in the fateful second innings; his dismissal induced a crawl that proved terminal.

In England he had a series of vital contributions, and none better than a 79 on a challenging pitch in the second Test at Trent Bridge. Apart from Zaheer Khan's inspired swing bowling, my warmest memory from that match is of Ganguly's square-driving.

Michael Vaughan set an off-side trap, with four men between cover and gully, and Ganguly teased and mocked him by caressing, punching and guiding the ball repeatedly through that cordon: one to the right of point, then one to the left, and then a couple between the two gullies. He was denied a hundred by a wrong decision, and his response to that dismissal told a story. In an earlier time he would have left kicking and stomping; here he did so with an ironic, rueful smile. The protest was registered, but without causing offence.

Admittedly his hundreds in the current series have come against feeble opponents. The pitch at Kolkata offered nothing to the bowlers, and Shoaib Akhtar was drained by illness. But at Bangalore he was not so much up against the bowlers as the match situation. He provided the calm cushion for Yuvraj Singh to flow at the other end without ever sacrificing his own strokes.

Personally, my favourite Ganguly innings of the series is a small but vital one. It came during the run-chase in the final innings of the first Test. Shoaib had just cleaned up Rahul Dravid with a ripper; India had over a hundred runs to get; and Tendulkar was finding non-existent demons in the pitch. In this banana-skin situation, typical to India, Ganguly, who had fallen cheaply in the first innings, set about cutting down the target nervelessly, with deliciously timed fours against Shoaib, Mohammad Sami, and Danish Kaneria.

The toughest challenge lies ahead. Australia will come hard at him, and the pitches will test his skills. But he is living out a fairytale at the moment, and nothing he achieves will be a surprise anymore. There are many, me included, who believed Ganguly's time as an international cricketer was over. We owe him an apology and a salute.

- Sambit Bal (Editor, Cricinfo)

burn Bangalore and burn IT

We shouldn't expect others to stretch their tolerance for those who neither deserve nor respect it. The angst of South Indians is not at all misplaced, and is still too mild to match New Delhi brand cockiness. Anyone who has loved any place ever in his life can easily relate to their anguish. The serenity and simplicity of the garden city exists only in their memories, and is being threatened by vulgarity of heartland and NCR. The city has been virtually ravaged by IT and the IT sponsored brats. The pop-Punjabi lifestyle coupled with ample availability of disposable money causes cancerous growth of malls, pubs etc. Result - tawdriness all around the city. Enough of economic development at cost of culture! It's time the cool dudes are made to realize they will be solved if they continue to be a problem. Those who are insensitive to native sentiments better stay home.

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I am a real Bangalorean. I was born in Basavangudi. The greatness of Bangalore was that it allowed simplicity and enjoyment—a cup of coffee and a masala dosa at Vidyarthi Bhavan kept you happy. I don't see that Bangalore anymore. It is now an awful city. There was more poetry and music here before the IT boom. The city we have created in recent years is rotten—highly polluted, garbage strewn everywhere, including the intellectual garbage dumped on this city by the IT industry.

Bangalore was always a highly intellectual city. Though people called it a garden city, there was more science here than anywhere else in India. Nowadays, nobody talks about it. They only call it an IT city. When it all started, I thought it was a good thing because so many people were getting jobs. Over the years, it has created a large upper-middle-class population who crowd the malls. There is nothing wrong in that, but what is really serious is the influence this has had on Bangalore's intellectual content.

It is wonderful to have a lot of young people getting big salaries, provided they don't take away the essential lifeblood of other professions. Bright people at a very young age, before they are even 20, think of IT as an option because they can make quick money. Lots of intelligent people are doing jobs that are much below their intellectual capabilities. They are like coolies who are working for wages and not producing great intellectual material.

Can an India of the future afford a highly skewed growth like this? All the humours should be balanced—we must also have good poets, good economists, fine historians, quality scientists and top-class engineers. An nri recently asked me, if India is so great in IT, how come it produces only 25 PhDs in computer science per year? That's a very good question.

Right in the beginning, the IT industry should have planned their campuses in towns like Ramanagaram (40-odd km from Bangalore). They should have created IT satellite towns, but they all wanted land inside the city. They not only took away that land, they also complain about not getting enough. They say they want better roads, but why should we create them?

IT people have a responsibility that they are yet to fulfil. If they're making so much money, why shouldn't they create an outstanding private university equivalent to Stanford or Harvard? Had they done something like that they would have compensated for the other problems they have created. If IT people are making money, what do I get out of it, unless I am employed in Infosys with Narayana Murthy? The trouble is, we have given them a lot, but have got nothing in return.

Our society has created a bunch of icons and role models who are distorting not just the future of this city but of all India, and of our sense of values. Our people have lost respect for scholarship. Money and commerce has taken over. If IT is going to take away our basic values, then you can burn Bangalore and burn IT.

- C.N.R. Rao
A world-renowned solid state and materials chemist, is chairman, Science Advisory Council to the Prime Minister

On Sophistication

Greek gods talk only among themselves.

The excess of sophistication makes meaningful socialization as difficult as the lack of it does, though in different ways. Here I am going to talk about the excess. The 'excess' involves things like snobbery and vanity, which confines an individual in his own individuality. He interacts with others through an invisible wall of sophistication; he can't touch any of them, and none of them can touch him. He likes to impress, and loses his interest in intimacy. This excess makes a man cold and lonely, not to say fake and repugnant.

Understandably, the inhabitants of uber-sophisticated isles are usually cold and lonely even if they are not fake and repugnant. Most of them are indeed, however, fake and repugnant. Unaware of the malady deeply rooted in their upbringing, they take extreme pride in their upbringing. When awareness descends, these poor folks attend workshops to learn all sort of techniques to 'break the ice'.

Urban India goes gaga over sophistication (in its most superficial sense) but I fail to see too much value in it. You can neither feed sophistication to the hungry, nor soothe the sick with it. Ask Shania Twain if it can give her warmth in cold and lonely nights. I don't think sophistication would impress her too much.

Sophistication, if not in excess, indeed indicates good upbringing - self-discipline and education. However, it implies none of them. A man of sophistication may or may not be a man of values. He may or may not be a good friend or a good citizen. In fact he is most likely to be all appearance and little substance. And appearance is, we all know, deceptive.

Flight of Imagination

Everything was calm and quiet as I looked out of the window. But there was something equally mysterious in the scene - like watching a huge painting and realizing (with an awe) that the picture is not exactly as it was a few moments back.

I saw a sea of smoke silently gurgling, and the floating tides of clouds rolling over and gently piling on one another. So large was the crucible and so slow was the change that there was a dreamy stillness despite all the churning. A gray serenity stretched far to the borders of horizon, above and beyond which a dusty red glow rose, giving an illusion of a distant desert unsettled by march of invaders.

A golden tinge had started to show at edge of shadows. And the edges shone brighter and brighter with every passing moment. The burning dust flew higher and higher till the edges started to glow with electric brilliance. Finally, the yolk of creation appeared at the horizon.

वो कागज़ की कश्ती, वो बारिश का पानी

"अभिषेक, तेरी चिट्ठी आई है|"

चिट्ठी - जितना संगीतमय अर्थ, उतना ही मधुर शब्द! जैसे किसी ने सितार की धुन सुना दी हो। अब घड़ियाँ कुछ देर रुकेंगी, और चिट्ठी पढ़ी जाने के बाद चलेंगी। कम से कम मैं तो ऐसा ही करूँगा। घड़ियों को जाना है तो जाएँ।

काराकोरम हॉस्टल की वो सीढियाँ उतरने में भी इतना आनंद! एक-एक कदम में चार-चार सीढियाँ - जैसे पैरों में पर लग गए हों। आज की बात ही कुछ और है! आज मौसम अच्छा है। आज मेरी चिट्ठी आई है। किसी को मेरी याद आई है।

यादें भी अजीब होती हैं। उनमें न तो वास्तविक जितनी वास्तविकता होती है और न ही काल्पनिक जितनी काल्पनिकता। दोनो मिली-जुली होती हैं। यादें ऐसे सपने की तरह होती हैं जिन्हें हम थोड़ा-थोड़ा तब तक देखते हैं जब तक हमारी आंखें पूरी तरह बंद न हो जाये| फिर ऐसे सपने को सपना कहना कितना सही है? और जो सपना नही हो, उसे भुलाने की बात करना कितना तर्कसंगत है?

पहली रोटी के तीन टुकड़े, बाद में आई दूसरी रोटी के फिर से तीन टुकड़े, और अंत में तीसरी रोटी के भी तीन टुकड़े । अगर वही तीन रोटियाँ एक साथ आ जाती तो हमारे पास आपस में बाँटने को क्या बचता ? थोड़ी सी कमी थी तो हम कितने पास आये, और आज भी कितना भरोसा है उस तस्वीर में ! क्या इस चिट्ठी में उसी तस्वीर के रंग बिखरे होंगे ?

पीतल की छोटी सी थाली पर रखा तुलसी का एक पत्ता और गुड़ या मिस्री का एक टुकड़ा -- मंगलवार के व्रत का मीठा-मीठा स्वाद । आरती की गर्म हथेलियों का चेहरे पर सुगंधित घर्षण । क्या ये चिट्ठी वही जीवनदायिनी स्पर्श लेकर आई है ?

या उजले बालों वाला वो समय जो घर आने पर अपने हाथों से पाँव पखारता था । और जाती हुई बेटी के आँचल में मुट्ठी भर अक्षत प्यार से रख देता था । कहाँ मिलेगी वह शीतल छाया इन वृक्षों के गिरने के बाद ? हो सकता है कि चिट्ठी खोलने पर उस जाते हुए समय की गूँज सुनाई दे।

चिट्ठियों के ढेर में एक वो अपनी वाली - जैसे अनजानी भीड़ में जानी-पहचानी सूरत। लिखावट भी चेहरे की तरह ही तो होती है - सबसे अलग, बस अपने जैसी। तभी तो लिखावट देखते ही लिखने वाले का चेहरा दिखाई देता है।

वो भी क्या दिन हुआ करते थे जब लोग चिट्ठियाँ लिखा करते थे। कागज़-कलम लेकर किसी के बारे में देर तक सोचना और फिर लिखना। सोचना तो ऐसे सोचना कि उसकी सुगंध मन में फूट पड़े। और फिर लिख-लिखकर फिर से लिखना। और पढ़ने वाले को भी एक रंग, एक स्पर्श, और एक गूँज का आभास। किसी का अंतरंग होने की सुखद अनुभूति।

बचपन में मैंने कुछ पत्र-मित्र बनाए थे। या बनाने की कल्पना की थी, कुछ ठीक से याद नही। लेकिन दो अपरिचित लोगों में ऐसा मधुर संबंध! क्या आज के युग में यह संभव है? लोग बड़ी तेजी से जा रहे हैं। न जाने कहाँ जा रहे हैं। ऐसे लोग पत्र-मित्र नही बना सकते, न ही बन सकते हैं। बहुत हो गया तो e-mail से एक forward भेज देंगे। उससे ज्यादा आत्मीयता... चलिए उनकी बातें नही करते।

बात चिट्ठियों की शुरू हुयी थी तो बात कोमलता पर ख़त्म की जानी चाहिए, 'कशिश' पर ख़त्म की जानी चाहिए, और "सरस्वतीचंद्र" के इस गीत के साथ ख़त्म की जानी चाहिए।

फूल तुम्हे भेजा है ख़त में, फूल नही मेरा दिल है
प्रियतम मेरे मुझको लिखना, क्या ये तुम्हारे काबिल है।

प्यार छुपा है ख़त में इतना, जितने सागर में मोती
चूम ही लेता हाथ तुम्हारा, पास जो तुम मेरे होती।

The Sodex-ho Code

Why would my employer take so much trouble to buy and distribute sodex-ho coupons instead of simply transferring money in our salary accounts? Why would a government allow circulation of a parallel currency in market? Who are the beneficiaries of this ubiquitous coupon system? And since no wealth is being created by this arrangement, who are being fleeced to sponsor its expenses?

One obvious beneficiary is Sodex-ho the company. But it can not be the only one. In fact it is only an incidental beneficiary in the game. Who are the real ones? My guess is - the decision makers - all those who allow this coupon system to run. My employer, despite all the operational and other costs that he incurs in managing coupons, must be gaining out of this system by getting the overall cost reduced. Though I am being paid the coupons of Rs 1000, he must be paying less than that. And the government gains by taxation. But then who are the poor losers?

As an employee I have no option here. I can not demand 1000/- instead of coupons of worth 1000/-. I have to take coupons even if I carry a lunch-box. And after getting the coupons I have to spend them too because they can not be saved - unlike currency notes they come with an expiry date.

A Saturday morning - I want to buy a packet of cornflakes. I step out of my house and walk down to the nearest supermarket. I could have bought that from the corner shop too but I didn't. The shopkeeper doesn't accept sodex-ho coupons. Perhaps the poor guy doesn't have enough money to buy a sodex-ho sticker.

A Sunday evening - A pizza in "Pizza Hut" is a bit hard on my pocket. I come from a middle-class family and for me Rs 250 still means Rs 250. I can, however, afford myself that luxury when the payment is to be done by coupons and not by cash. Since I don't feel the blow, I don't mind the blow. The coupons have to be disposed before the end of year anyway.

So the coupons serve two purposes. 1. They compel me to consume. And, 2. they compel me to consume from the selected stores.

It is not very difficult to make a rough estimate of the business that they do through sodex-ho coupons (since the coupons can not be used anywhere else). These chains grow in size not because they are better than the corner shops but because they are recommended by this system. People have to queue up in these supermarkets to get their goods billed instead of just dial a number and get the goods sent at their door.

The puzzle is solved. The profit these retail giants and restaurants earn - the cake - is shared between supermarkets, employers, and governments. And who is starving here - the man sitting in the corner shop.

The other victim is no one else but I myself. I buy costly Kellogg's because this is what they keep. And thanks to the Sunday evenings at Pizza Hut I have a tummy at 25, and a hideous craving for more!

Bike Safari to Kerala - A Reluctant Commentary

The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him. He goes "sight-seeing." - Daniel J. Boorstin

It is rightly said that one who looks within finds nothing. But the one who looks outside finds it within. Similarly, he who goes out to meet people comes to know himself.

A traveler seeks experience, and experience is what he collects. The men of business run after gold without knowing what to do with it (except selling it to someone else); whereas a traveler stops and enjoys the glow without making any claim on the gold. And such is his gaze that things start shining when he turns his eyes on them.

Sometimes he suffers in his pursuit, but he doesn't grieve his suffering. Because those who court the pleasures of life don't mind her tantrums. Her tantrums only incite him more, and invite him deeper. For a traveler, even a bad experience is a positive experience. For experience can never be negative. And he evaluates his life in terms of the experience that he earns, and it is only this that makes him feel enriched and fulfilled.

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Route: Hyderabad --> Bangalore --> Hosur --> Palakkadu --> Pennagaram --> Perumbalai --> Mechcheri --> Bhavani --> Tiruppur --> Palladam --> Chinnar --> Munnar --> Thekkady --> Kottayam --> Allapuzha --> Kochi --> Hyderabad

Hyderabad to Bangalore -- by Train, and Kochi to Hyderabad -- by Flight. Rest of the way was covered by bike (Unicorn).

Quite contrary to the popular belief, a five days long bike trip to Kerala is less tiring than you are likely to imagine. In fact a single day of drudgery in an air-conditioned office is more tiring, and I am talking about physical tiredness here. How sad that most of you wouldn't believe this!

Day 1: Bangalore - Mariyoor (Munnar) --> The lush green hills and the breathtaking blue lakes of Munnar attract thousands of tourists, especially honeymoon couples, every year. Understandably, hotels are costly there. For the couples, stories eagerly wait for the nightfall; but in our case, climax yawns at doormat and falls on bed asleep. It therefore makes little sense for us to spend too much on hotels.

We had started at around 9 in morning and entered Kerala just before sunset. After crossing Chinnar wildlife sanctuary we decided to stay at Mariyoor, which is located appx. 40 kms from Munnar. In the way we befriended Maharajan, a Tamil gentleman, who made sure we got a cheap place to spend the night. When we checked in, he also made a point to drop in and tell us everything that could be of our use.

After bidding the kind man goodbye, we celebrated our Diwali with Kerala Paratha, came back to our room and switched off the light.

Day 2: Mariyoor - Nedumkandam (Thekkady) --> Staying in Thekkady, home to the Periyar wildlife sanctuary, would have been a costly affair for us. So we used the old formula again - using native wisdom and choosing a lesser known place near the main location to pass the night.

Well, Munnar happened in morning. More than the place, the ways approaching to it impressed us more. Munnar is picturesque; in fact pictures follow your sight wherever you go. But no picture could have captured what we were feeling through our skin - the warm massage of sun and the gentle caress of air. No camera could have captured the cool freshness of the valley in our lungs. Its eye wouldn't be able see the vastness in which the scene was stretched. Standing on the road, which crawled amid tea gardens like a serpent, there were moments when our ecstasy knew no bounds. Looking at the tea gardens it seemed as if someone had covered the hills by a green velvety carpet, which changed its shades with every angle and every turn. We saw the earth's shades changing with the change in sky. No photography could have captured that change, which makes a place look alive. So, leaving the gold for others to capture, we decided to enjoy the glow.

By the sunset, I could cover much less than that I had anticipated. Far ahead of Munnar, the curvy roads became bumpier and jerkier, and to make the matter further interesting, it started raining as well. Things had started to be a little difficult for me. I removed my sunglasses to improve visibility but the insects flying on to the headlight threatened to hit my eyes. I had to put my shades on even when the road was dark and the headlight was not bright enough. We were late and I was slow. Thankfully, an auto-rickshaw went past us and I followed the two little red spots for rest of our journey. The drops of water kept falling on my sunglasses washing those little red spots away. Quite surrealistic that feeling it was, and what a memorable ride! But for good reasons I will advise you not to ride or drive after sunset when you are at such a place.

Day 3: Nedumkandam - Kottayam --> A side seat in a ship, a ride in Periyar lake, few deers and elephants at the shore and that's it. I was beginning to feel like a tourist there. Ideally I would have liked to go deep into the forest, and sit on a Machaan in a moonlit night waiting to get a glance of a tiger. Thankfully ideals stay away from reality.
We had clearly understood the advantages of started early, so we decided to leave for Kottayam as soon as we got off the ship. It was a downward journey to the plains. There was nothing remarkable about this ride until we neared Kottayam. I will always remember this road for having the best hoardings I have ever seen. Being the one on the driving seat I should rather have focussed on the road only. But those ads were so tastefully shot and those women were so sensuously posed that it would've been rude to ignore them.

From Kottayam we rode to Kumarakom only to find out that the boats in backwaters don't move in night. But the boatmen still urged us to go for a "Home Stay" or hire a houseboat. We could very well imagine why someone would like to spend a night in a still houseboat. Anyways, we came back to Kottayam and stayed there.

Refreshingly, this was not yet another town full of malls and multiplexes. the kind you see one and you see them all. There is hardly any character that defines and differentiates, and so severe is the identity crisis that now towns and cities are rated and compared on the basis of their malls! But Kottayam is not a cloned copy of Gudgaon or Noida. It has an unmistakable local flavor, and it tasted good on our palate. Keralites are politically aware lot - "Are you a Communist?", they would ask when they would spot my Che Guevara T-shirt. Otherwise they are simple folks who spend half of their time fidgeting with their lungis. The women wouldn't hesitate to indicate a passing stranger that his bike's headlamp is on. They don't seem to have any idea why they should be scared of men. Well, all this is unimaginable in North - such simplicity and such civilization.

Day 4: Kottayam - Allapuzha -->

A charming good morning, soft golden sun, cool blue breeze and a road open to zoom through the heavy smell of aqua life - quite a delight of a ride this was along the famous backwaters of Kerala!

A. Backwaters - The backwaters foster a world on their banks. The green water grows coconuts and fish, and when winds blow from west, tourists would swarm to the merry of the ferrymen. Life was simple till came rich people with plenty at their disposal. The relaxed, rhythmic, romance of boating was ousted by the loud opulence of houseboats, which were owned by big businessmen of Bombay and hired by those who cared little whether they were in a house, in a boat, or in a houseboat as long as they were getting their privacy and their daily dose of vanity. Later on, some of them would expound on the interior aesthetics as well. However, this aesthetics has not done wonders to the ecology as well as the economy of the backwaters. If you seek a place free from noise and smoke of traffic, go somewhere else. And if you care to investigate, you'd find out that of the Rs 1200 that you had paid for a 6 hrs backwaters village tour, the poor man who rows the shikara gets something around Rs 60 (Rs 2000 per month)!

Those who know, know that big is not always better. Huge houseboats have no access to the narrow alleys of backwaters, where life prospers. Well, we not only got a village tour but also tried our hands in rowing. We also got a chance to talk with our boatman and other villagers. In the end he felt emotional enough to hug us. And that surprised me a little, because it was charming for us to be generous to him, but it must have been difficult, if not dangerous, for him to express his affection to those who were richer than him. It needs a heart of gold to love someone richer, and the poor man had that heart. But I could not have complimented him for this. Perhaps his peace of mind, which didn't even mind his poverty, didn't need that.

B. Beach - In night we drank some beer and lied down on the white sand to listen to the soothing music of sea. By the time I woke up the sand had soaked all the stress and left my body achingly blissful.

Day 5: Allapuzha - Kochi -->

Again a delightful ride, and this time along the coast. Though never visible, the sea always made its presence felt in air.

At Fortkochi we stopped to see the fishermen catching fish with their famous china net. A large number of visitors, especially foreigners, had gathered there and were waiting for the net to be lifted. The fishers would ask the spectators to keep back. The air was heavy with excitement and anticipation. Finally that moment came and numerous cameras rose to capture the awaited scene. And here came the anticlimax - just one fish in that gigantic net! And a few seconds later even that fell back into the water. So much for all those elaborate conspiracies. For some time there was a silent disbelief all around. What a goof-up it was! Good morning comedy show absolutely for free.

Kochi has a few good palaces and churches but we were not very keen on visiting them. In confusion I took the bike straight into the first lane that I saw. And that incidental ride took us through one of most exotic experiences I have ever had. The cultural affluence of Kerala was copiously scattered on both the sides of the lane. The exquisite works of art, delightful smell of spices, colorful handicrafts, beautiful paintings, and even huge snake boats: civilization at acme of its artistic accomplishment was there to behold. I was so overwhelmed that I didn't remember to note the name of the lane. Another goof-up of the day!

And then came a time when I had to see myself off at the airport. I was to come back to the real world. The air hostesses greeted with their fake smiles. I don't look at them while their eyes are on me. I realize that looks a bit impolite but I can't look at hypocrisy without looking rude. I am not crazy about flights anyway, and these air-hostesses make things even worse for me.

A few hours brought me five days back. I am again here in Hyderabad. Weeks come and go unnoticed. We don't bother to ask what makes a day any different from the other. Life passes by, only in planning and preparing for the future. We see people around us living in vain hope and dying with unfulfilled dreams. But we fail to see reality in our case. I am happy I have lived a life in these 5 days. These 5 days will always glow in my memories.

Useful Tips: Do not forget to use sunscreen lotion (SPF 50 or more) if you are to go for such a trip. I got severe sunburn on my face as I forgot to do so.

Being Emotionally Simple

Playing with Metaphors is a risky game. Metaphors show as much reality as they hide; and worse, they sometimes lock your mind. If you enter the world of metaphors then you can not escape using the arguments of Reason. Apart from your God and your Will, only the key metaphor can unlock and free your mind.

I will not dwell on this. In short, metaphors are generally impressive in nature. They are meant to be impressive. So get impressed, but think twice before getting convinced by them. Because valueless imagination is being marketed with great aggression. The sellers feed on people's appetite for complexity and pseudo-intellectualism.

However, with time I have realized the benefits of being emotionally simple.

Making Yourself Vulnerable

Hitanshu Gandhi's presentation on "Breaking The Ice" triggered a heated debate in the class of "Language and Communication" (3rd year, IIT Delhi). The girl students were particularly outraged by his suggestion, which according to them dehumanized girls - guys, go to Ansal Plaza, pick any girl and strike a chat with her. If she says 'No', hit on someone else.

His point was like this - effective communication greatly involves a skill that has to be acquired and developed. Today it may seem frivolous and flippant to you. But tomorrow you will feel for someone, seriously and sincerely, and it'd hurt you sorely if you miss her simply because you could not gather enough courage to come out of your shell to talk to her, or could not talk to her without being misunderstood. So it's vital for each one of us to get familiar with all the Don'ts of such intercourses before we face one. Go guys, break the ice, set yourself free from your self-imposed captivity, for learning communication is half about getting rid of useless inhibitions. For the rest of things, apply yourself.

Prof Srinivas backed him up simply for his heart, for his making himself vulnerable, which he maintained to be one of the touchstones of great communicators in the making.

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

People are lonelier than we imagine they are. And if you care to look inside, you'll find out that the innermost regions of hearts are mostly desolate. Almost anyone that you see walking on road, no matter how rich or beautiful he/she may be, secretly but painfully longs for warmth and amae*. And in his/her heart, each one of us has always known this.

Then what are you waiting for? Break the ice which keeps you cold like dead meat. Let the sunshine of friendship spread its warmth through your arms. Don't be scared, and do remember that suffering is the privilege of the noble. Only the bravest of hearts are capable of making themselves vulnerable, if need be, to live their convictions.

And if you still can not, at least respect it; and if you ever happen to meet sunshine in your way, step ahead and embrace it. For you might realize later in life, that there is something sacred about sunshine.

* amae (Japanese) - a state of absolute acceptance by someone; a blissful dependence upon someone's love and benevolence; a feeling very much akin to what a child feels in presence of his/her mother.

Banquet Speech - John Coetzee

The other day, suddenly, out of the blue, while we were talking about something completely different, my partner Dorothy burst out as follows: "On the other hand," she said, "on the other hand, how proud your mother would have been! What a pity she isn't still alive! And your father too! How proud they would have been of you!"

"Even prouder than of my son the doctor?" I said. Even prouder than of my son the professor?"

"Even prouder."

"If my mother were still alive," I said, "she would be ninety-nine and a half. She would probably have senile dementia. She would not know what was going on around her."

But of course I missed the point. Dorothy was right. My mother would have been bursting with pride. My son the Nobel Prize winner. And for whom, anyway, do we do the things that lead to Nobel Prizes if not for our mothers?

"Mommy, Mommy, I won a prize!"

"That's wonderful, my dear. Now eat your carrots before they get cold."

Why must our mothers be ninety-nine and long in the grave before we can come running home with the prize that will make up for all the trouble we have been to them?

To Alfred Nobel, 107 years in the grave, and to the Foundation that so faithfully administers his will and that has created this magnificent evening for us, my heartfelt gratitude. To my parents, how sorry I am that you cannot be here.

Thank you.

The wisdom of stupidity

Kissing on road surely looks better than pissing on road, but Indian male would rather practice the latter, or even the worse - the former done with spirit of the latter. Public display of phallus is considered more manly and less shameful than public display of affection. Similarly, he would never kiss his wife when kids are around; but he forgets all the codes of discretion when he has to shout at her. Which kind of one-way impulsiveness is this? Shouldn't this be the other way round?

What we choose for ourselves is what we permit others, and such choices and permissions speak volumes about our collective sense of expression.

Of late, I have noticed that my friends fail to read my mood when I am sad. In those gloomy moments, anything that saps my spirit or tests my patience causes irritation. Finally, and often suddenly, I would end up losing my temper. Since I can express my anger without feeling much of inhibition, my friends often suffer for something they can not be held responsible - my utter inability to express my sorrow.

Does my behavior follow any particular pattern? What are the other emotions that I feel difficult to express? And why? When I thought about it, I did found a pattern. I tend to hide emotions that make me look weak and helpless. With further inquiry, it was revealed to me that the root cause of this type of behavior was my ego and a fear of my ego getting hurt. I also discovered, to my dismay, that whenever there is a conflict between my and my ego's interests, the latter prevails at expense of the former!

Now this situation doesn't help anyone's purpose. There are too many things you want to do but your ego wouldn't let you. You want to say no to the commands of peer pressure but you can't. You want to say "Hi" to a girl you like but you can't. You want to patch up with your old friend but you can't. Submission to ego makes life unbearably suffocating sometimes, especially without alcohol.

There is a lot to be written but I will rather not (say Thank you :). I am writing too much nowadays and I feel heady. Thankfully, a trip to Kerala is coming up shortly. I think I need a break. I need to break away from this state of mind. I need some fresh air. I have not danced for a long time. Sometimes dancing does what thinking can not. Dance is an expression of joy, but such is the irony of heart, even sorrow gets purged.

Arranging marriage

ये किस मुकाम पर हयात* मुझको लेके आ गयी
ना बस ख़ुशी पे है जहाँ, ना ग़म पे इख्तियार है

The worst thing about marriage is that you need someone else. You can not do it alone.

And it must be done! Old people want to run a show. They want to host a party. They want to wear their suits and flaunt their jewelery and look good in the video recordings. So boy, park you bike there, get yourself fixed somewhere and dress up for the evening!

That's all fine. But where is the lady of the golden frame? Have you found her? Gone are good old days of yours. Arranging marriage was never easy, but it seems a real tough deal nowadays.

- We have or we imagine we have something which we call our identity. And we are very conscious and sometimes rather possessive about this identity, especially when we want to justify something or simply fight with someone. This something - identity - is the cause of some of the most serious relationship problems, sometimes from the very outset of a relationship.

- Your mantra of "Career First" has started to backfire. Our generation seems to have taken this mantra a bit too seriously. We have never understood why something as petty and as vague as 'career' can come first in someone's life. And we have no idea for how long career will be placed ahead of things that really matter to us. For if career comes first, we come second, third or somewhere farther behind. We never questioned you, but perhaps we should have. May be it's too late now. The horse has left the cart behind and is running for its own sake.

- The photographs you show don't show enough of them. And when I call them up (after realizing that talking to them would surely be less painful than otherwise), I feel that I have skipped some very important steps. Besides, we tend to be objective in such interviews, which leads us to assume such an attitude which is neither human nor conducive to the development of any genuine feeling. In short, I strongly feel that this marriage market is not a place to be in, though I might not be able to explain why. And so my head feels heavy when you give me another number.

- This duplicity of standards can not sustain itself for long. Either you marry us like your parents had been married - without all this farce of meeting and knowing each other - or you leave us be. We can be obedient, but then don't expect us to enjoy obeying. And me warn you that obedience in these matters has its own consequences.

- Loneliness is not a good habit, and could be dangerous if prolonged, unless dealt with utmost care. It keeps us in a virtual world and gives us a false sense of freedom, which we waste in self-indulging pursuits. This virtual life makes us self-absorbed and rigid, if not schizophrenic, and difficult to adjust with reality later in life. Moreover, some pleasures, if delayed for long, lose their essence with time. And they are replaced by obstinate abstinence punctuated with guilty deviations.

Not only the institution of arranged marriage but the whole idea of sexual morality and man-woman relation need to be rationalized as per the demands of contemporary lifestyle. The expectations will have to be moderated and the priorities involving compatibility will have to be revised - as I had said in my previous post, that things like caste don't hold much relevance anymore in marital life.

* Life

The Knitting Continues...

Sensex has finally touched the magical 20K. Beta Ambani elbows out Bill Gates as the richest person in world. Jubilations! Celebrations!

Far from these cries of jubilations and celebrations, somewhere in the heart of India, about 250K people, men and women from 12 states of country, downtrodden and exploited, divested of their lands and homes by the claws of growth and development, are quietly walking their way to New Delhi. About 6 km long serpentine queues crawl slowly towards the citadels of power. They speak different languages but what unites these people is their pain and their hope, the former very much alive and the latter on verge of death. And no matter in what language these poor men and women speak, their demand is same - Justice.

- Hope every powerless realizes that (s)he is the very source of power in democracy and it is high time the powerful understands it without any ambiguity.

- Hope they realize that when the rich and powerful forget Guillotine, they become vulnerable to various maladies that unrestrained power often engenders. Evidences exist to support the fact that every democracy needs a Guillotine in its backyard to protect itself from corruption and other evils that power invariable entails.

When a strong tortures a poor, it is administration, but when the weak raises his voice against the strong, it is revolution. Violence is indeed deplorable, but condoning oppression is also a form of violence. Non-violence, though impressive to the mind of the simple, is a doctrine which is imagined by an idiot and marketed by the satisfied. This doctrine seems indifferent to the urgency that is felt by the mother of starving children.

- Hope they understand that Red is the most convincing color. When a bull sees red, he loses his sense. But when a man sees it, he comes back to his senses.

Something that Gandhi's Talisman tries to sensitize has been rendered numb by greed in most of the people who are bribed by institutions like sensex. Perhaps a Chanakya is needed to rise again and rouse them to things that are more important than 20K.

May justice be done, urgently. Thankfully we, as a whole, do not believe in the cult of Guillotine, but I vaguely wish that we should make an exception sometime.

Above all, it must be understood that nothing but the dreams of Dharavi keep Hiranandanis immortal. Whosoever puts the crown on his head invariably becomes Dhananand. In that case, not only the crown but the very longing for crown must be destroyed, otherwise Dhananand will keep on coming to life, again and again.

Gandhi's Talisman

"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man(woman) whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him(her). Will he(she) gain anything by it? Will it restore him(her) to a control over his(her) own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj(freedom) for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."

- One of the last notes left behind by Gandhi in 1948, expressing his deepest social thought.

चाणक्य - 39

धननन्द - महा अमात्य, क्या तुम विजयी हुए?

चाणक्य - नही सम्राट, शासक की पराजय में शिक्षक की विजय नही हो सकती| कहीं कोई विष्णुगुप्त चूक गया था, इसलिए आज किसी धननन्द को पराजित होना पड़ रहा है| यह विजय शिक्षक के लिए उपलब्धि नही हो सकती|

धननन्द - यह तथाकथित विजेताओं का दर्शन बोल रहा है, या एक शिक्षक का आदर्श?

चाणक्य - सम्राट, जो आदर्श यथार्थ न हो, वह शिक्षक का दर्शन नही हो सकता|

धननन्द - तुम सच कह रहे हो विष्णुगुप्त| जो दर्शन तुम्हारा नही, वह यथार्थ या आदर्श नही हो सकता|

चाणक्य - सच कह रहे हैं सम्राट| सत्य कि परिभाषा भी हर व्यक्ति के लिए भिन्न-भिन्न होती है|

धननन्द - तुम्हारे सत्य कि परिभाषा क्या है - जो ज्यादा ज़ोर से कहे वह सत्य है या जो जितने ज्यादा लोग कहें वह सत्य है?
सच तो यह है विष्णुगुप्त कि तुम विजयी नही हुए| सच यह है कि मैं पराजित नही हुआ|

चाणक्य - मैं जानता हूँ सम्राट कि मरने से मृत्यु पर विजय नही होती| धननन्द के मरने से धननन्द पर विजय नही हो सकती| मार्ग के कंटक से मुक्ति पाने से मार्ग निष्कंटक नही हो जाता|
पर इससे विष्णुगुप्त का प्रवास थम नही जाता| यदि कोई धननन्द उग्र होगा, तो कोई विष्णुगुप्त भी रुद्ध होगा| मेरा कार्य ही जागना और जगाना है सम्राट|

धननन्द - किसे जगाओगे तुम विष्णुगुप्त? इस सोये हुए समाज को? या उसे जो विचारों का आधार लिए आसन पर आएगा, और समय के साथ स्वयं को धननन्द पायेगा? वही मुझे फिर से जन्म देंगे|

- Dr. Chandraprakash Dwivedi

Going Berserk

Nanotech Productions Ltd presents "DEEWANA KAHIN KAA"

Introducing Abhishek* (Jawan Dilon Ki Dhadkan)

Background Score and Cinematography - Sanket Shrivastava

Screenplay and Direction - Akshaya Kumar

Lunatic Nights

I had not been on talking terms with moon since a long time. It had been difficult since you don't have too many choices in sky. In lonely nights, if you refuse to look at moon, you would gaze in emptiness and the emptiness in turn gazes back to you

Till a few years back we were best of friends. I had even introduced Her to moon. In those lunatic nights, when She would look at moon, the moon would shine in Her eyes. Oh! How fair She would look with those two little moons twinkling! That's the beautiful thing about beauty - when you look at it, you too look beautiful.

Last night moon had come quite close to earth. God knows what passion burns her every night, but she looked brighter than usual, and that effected a rift between the clouds. The poor clouds fell apart here and there in sky, as if something exploded inside them, perhaps envy. Suppressing her smile, she moved proudly like a princess, wearing a golden ring around herself. When her eyes fell on me, she caught me looking up at her. She smiled and I smiled back. We knew we had patched up.

Life of Meat

It takes a life to make a plateful of meat. Meat consumed is life consumed, and meat wasted is life wasted. Even if meat is not wasted, life is wasted. But if meat is wasted, life is doubly wasted.

Man too is edible. He sells best of his time, best piece of his body, everyday only to prolong the torture. What a degrading bondage wrapped in consolatory poetry!

Someone slips on bed and someone is born. Someone slips on road and someone is dead. A whole drama sandwiched between two gratuitous slips! Existence: cosmic joke! Desires, hopes and plans on one hand the cold stare of futility on the other! Important, serious, and worthless. Meaning of life scattered on slippery roads!

A disposable unit of a machine which runs for selfish reasons. An insignificant means to a ridiculous end. Identical dreams in identical cubicles. And identical delusion of being different! Of being indispensable!

Suicide - absconding from prison; but prison has surplus inmates to run its mills. It doesn't remember escapes. Its gates are open. Slavery is the most popular choice.

Temporary insanity and sustaining comfort of oblivion. Hobson's choice - Accept the absurd. And back to the mill. Over.

Abhishek*

Some more thoughts

1. Dodge:- In my Karate sessions (good old IITD days), I was told that a good fighter doesn't waste his energy in unnecessary antics. He doesn't throw around his punches and kicks to feel great about himself. If someone comes to fight him, he doesn't even go and block his rival's blows unless he absolutely has to. But what would he do if he doesn't block the blows that fall on him?

Well, he'd rather dodge! Just let them go! Because every blow doesn't have to be blocked. Every enemy doesn't deserve to be countered. Only shallow men engage in meaningless altercations.

Even in normal life, we must not dissipate our vital energy in blocking every nonsense that we meet in our way. Most of us exhaust our energy in defying (or conforming, it's all the same if you come out tired!) things that are not relevant or significant. We should learn to ignore them, to duck the bouncers. This is not to be confused with cowardice. This is rather a war strategy, if you please, for a higher purpose.

2. Man versus Economic Agent:- I might have posted this in my economy blog. But I decided not to because the matter is not, technically speaking, economic in nature.

Thanks to Kahneman and others, the role of behavioral psychology in economics has been widely acknowledged now. But the opposite is often overlooked, perhaps because it is obvious. But it is important that we do not lose sight of the obvious.

Yesterday, during a discussion, this idea presented itself with a fresh clarity. I noticed that many people exist who would passionately condemn ventures like 'Reliance Fresh'. But the same people would buy its stocks because they are convinced that it would fetch them rich dividends. So, at the end of the day, they would support the same venture in the manner that matters the most. Judging them from their own standards - these investors act lowly.

And each one of these ubiquitous economic agents act lowly - as a consumer, a producer or as an investor. I don't feel any need to use any rhetoric to get this point across.

John might get repelled by mere sight of blood. But if he starts producing weaponries, it is very likely that he would celebrate every prospect of war. After some time, he'd perhaps start defending wars by listing the benefits of it. Similarly, a majority of people hanker after things which were never important to them till yesterday. They don't need them even today, but such is the pressure of being up-to-date that they need them more than things that they actually need - health, leisure and love. In the frenzy of indiscriminate consumption, we forget to say 'No'. And we waste our life in taking things that we take because we don't say no to them. As a result we get indipop and junkfood. 'No' denotes backbone of a person or a society. And we all know what we become when we don't say 'No', especially when we are in market.

With advertisements in TV and economic times subscribed, market has come very close to us, closer than it ever was in the history of man. We stand confused. Perhaps it is for our overall good. Most likely it is not. We must be on guards.

I would rather remain a man than becoming an economic agent.

Some Thoughts

1. Religion and Marriage: - Religion should have no say in the matters of marriage, though I do not deny the role of cultural compatibility in wedding.

Sometime back Religion was inextricably associated with Education. It is not so now. (It's another matter that now Market has taken over it. Greed has replaced Fear.) Morality, for many of us, is now based on the solid foundation of Reason and personal spirituality, and not on fear and superstition. Madarsa etc seems fossils of the bygone era, though they are still in existence. Similarly, there will be a day when people will laugh at the idea of religion and caste etc being the most important factors in matrimony.

When I say this, I want to make it very clear that I do recognize that marriage is primarily and ultimately a social institution. But that doesn't make it a religious ritual in which individuals have to be sacrificed at the altar of meaningless traditions.

Same holds true for caste. In connection with this topic, I have three points to make here.

First, culture and religion are not the same, as commonly supposed. Religious difference/similarity is not necessarily cultural difference/similarly. These two are two different things with nothing much in common.

Second, even the issue of cultural incompatibility must not be used as an excuse to curtail the freedom of adults. Modern times are all about more freedom and more responsibility for man and woman. Moreover, it is possible for two individuals from different religious and cultural backgrounds to strike a harmony at personal level, which transcends all these man-made barriers. It is for them to decide and it is for them to bear the consequences of their decisions. They have right to make a second best decision as well, as long as they don't harm others. Others must not poke their noses in their personal affairs.

Third, the real challenge is not ideological rigor-mortis or intellectual inertia, though nobody can ignore their presence around us, and the formidable frequency with which they present themselves to us. Reason has been made a mere agent of selfishness, a mere alibi to protect the status quo of the satisfied. The real challenge, which beats out the best of thinkers, is social pressure. And for financially and politically potent individuals, this pressure works at an emotional level - the mothers start crying and the fathers stop to talk. We usually succumb to it, and one more generation is sacrificed to perpetuate the traditional nonsense. How do we fight society in its ugliest restrictive form? We can not unless we understand it, and most of us can not. Who is society? How does it look like? Everyone swears by it and no one can see it or show it. But we have to see it, and also see how it works, in order to defeat it. To me, it's clear that this invisible system thrives on our collective ignorance and fear. And its only antithesis is truth and courage. Now can you see why society discourages both? :)

2. The villain inside: - Our mind is like a software that has been installed in our brain. This software has been designed (again, by society, and its powerful Agent Smiths) to control us and rule us through the maxims of the forgotten childhood memories, which primarily involves emotions like fear, guilt and shame. We see what is shown to us and we say what we hear from our surroundings. Original thinking is often a delusion. We think that we are thinking but we hardly ever do that. Doing 2 + 2 = 4 is no thinking. Excuse me for repeating The Matrix here. But repetition is necessary to establish thoughts in the unconscious. Reason alone can't achieve that. We really have to deconstuct our mental make-up in order to free ourselves from its slavery. For truth often lies beyond the mind. And ignorance is a state of mind, and so is slavery.

For instance, in movies, especially in romantic love stories, they show lovers and villains. In the end, the hero defeats the villains and wins his love. But real-life love stories hardly have happy endings. I think this is because real love stories have real villains, and most of the villains are, again, internal and invisible, and therefore difficult to defeat. The real lovers are often caught unaware of the real villains. And the villain, which is lovers' own mind, and its brain-children - doubts and jealousy, possess and strangulate their love in front of their helpless eyes.

perhaps mind can be conquered by Will, because will is not fully ruled by mind. We can say that will is the mind of Nature. Love is also a form of will, an irrevocable decision taken by Nature. A strong-willed man, a hero, laughs at his mind and its doubts and fears. "Say what you want to. Speak as much as you can. But I will not stop loving her." May be the ceremonial fire represents nothing but this will. It is not impossible, since Hinduism is so full of symbolism.

3. The Fruits of Solitude: - What a man gathers in his solitude is what he gives in his company. My friend Sanket spends his time with his guitar when he is alone, and, as a result of that union, we get to hear those lovely, soothing tunes when we are with him. On the other hand someone who doesn't enjoy his solitude is often a boring companion. He has little imagination, and little loyalty to anything but his petty pleasures; his life revolves around the superficialities of sex and sensex, and consequently he has nothing of any worth to share with others.

At the same time, loneliness is a very personal and very real problem, which sometimes we forget and sometimes we endure. But no medicine can cure it. Like disease and death, loneliness is also an existential inevitability.

One way to alleviate the agony of loneliness is an occupying interest. Finally, everything sucks in life. Intensity is required for excellence; but when boredom is concerned, the take-away word is diversity. Have as many interests as possible. Don't worry about depth. We are anyways a shallow generation. People will neither notice nor mind.

To Kerala, On Bike

There are some pleasures in the world which are accessible only to explorers, and no one else. And that is the most charming thing about them.

This Diwali, I am going to explore Kerala. Akshaya and I will spend 5 days and 5 nights uncovering the land of gods, on bike! We will visit Munnar, Alleppey, Mahe, Kozhikode and so many place that we see on maps. But that is not what excites me the most. After a few years of wandering, I have realized that the most beautiful places are the ones who have no names. And the real travelers prefer only them. I am thrilled about those unknown, unnamed and unsold places. I am waiting to ride in forests and sleep on beaches. And I can not wait anymore!

Azadi: Theirs and Ours

Preface

This is a story of a pretty girl called Mira. She lived with her old father in a beautiful village. She had two cousins, Indra and Islam, who lived in the same village, on either side of her house. And both of them had an eye on her. Mira, however, wanted to marry Azad, a charming young man who had recently come in their village. When the cousins made their proposal, she politely declined and said that she loved someone else. This refusal infuriated both, since each wanted to have her. Both used to brag around and claim that it was he whom she loved, and quarreled with each other. She had become a question of honor for them. "How dare she like someone else?", their fists clenched.

One night, mad with passion, Islam broke into her house to abduct her. Her poor old father woke up and cried for help. Indra immediately rushed in and offered his hand, on a condition that Mira would have to marry her protector. Helpless with anxiety and terror, the old man acquiesced. And what happened that night was to haunt her for years to come.

Everyone in village had guessed that marriage will settle everything. But marriages hardly ever settle anything. Marriages that are labeled successful just serve to hide and quieten things. This marriage, however, was not even successful, and so things were not hidden or quietened. Even 10 years after that fateful night, Mira was unable to forget her old love, even if her husband found her sentiments for Azad disgraceful and ridiculous. But her fondness for him was still there, at least partly, due to her husband only who never had any feelings for her, except that of an ownership. And in order to protect this ownership, he had kept her confined in a house, which was fenced by barbed wire and guarded by armed men, who felt free to do whatever they like if she tried to run away, or in alibi of the same.

Meanwhile, Islam, seething with insult and jealousy, and aided by his brother's enemies, sneaked around and threatened to gate-crash. This gave Indra quite a presentable reason to keep his wife immured, in name of her security.

The real reason, however, was dark and sinister. With time, the distrust and enmity between the two brothers had grown so much that Indra was afraid that Islam and his goons might try to intrude upon his land and property. Mira kept him well occupied, and thereby served as a buffer between the two sides and bore the brunt of Islam's aggression. What hurt her more, though, was Indra's indifference.

Meanwhile some kind-hearted women had visited the chief of village and raised their concern for poor Mira. As soon as this was made an issue, old graves were disinterred and Islam jumped in to make the most of it - to play the legal game and try his luck again. On the other hand, for every question asked, Indra had a ready made answer - Mira was legally married to him and so she was an inseparable part of his family. Most of the folks, especially Indra's kins, found this argument beyond any doubt or debate.

The case still goes on. The shrewd chief uses this case to manipulate the brothers and to meet his own ends. Mira still lives in that house with gloom and despair. But when she sleeps, she dreams of walking freely again some day, out in open, with Azad by her side.

Freedom: Theirs and Ours

We often need some degree of impartiality to see the truth, and literature provides us that. As story readers, we are in a better position to see the human side of a situation than the characters; as in case of Mira better than her husband and her husband's kins, whose sights are blinded by passion and selfishness. The story of Mira is just a preface to this article, and just an attempt to prepare the reader to approach the presented perspective with more patience and tolerance. Ananya Vajpeyi, the writer, tries to sensitize us, the Indian readers, towards Kashmiri people and urges us to look towards their pains and their sentiments for Azadi more sympathetically, which is not easy to come by otherwise.

Though I do not subscribe to everything that has been written there, and I have strong reservations against some of the arguments, I would still admit that this article gives us a new perspective to look at the old problem. The writer unsettles our thoughts and compels us to question our long-held assumptions and beliefs. What is a nation - land or people? - or an agreement that holds a group of people, who cluster together because of some unique commonalities? Should breach of this agreement - demand to make a separate nation - be permitted? Permitted by whom? Why should someone have rights to control others' freedom? And when? There are too many questions. We'll have to think, and we have to think about our thinking. We'll have to ask ourselves - what are the principles we live by, and we have to assess whether they are consistent with contemporary social context as well as with eternal human values. We have to think to save what is human in us - for what are we left with if we lose our soul?

Sony: safety or superstition?

Last to last sunday I was clicking with my team in the outskirts of Hyderabad. Suddenly, the lens of my cybershot got stuck and refused to move. Sajjad consoled me that it would just need a regular cleaning. Anyway I was not bothered much because I had not dropped it anywhere. And the name of sony was there to assure me. I kept it in the bag and came home after some trekking.

This sunday I gave the camera (DSC-H1) to Sony Service Center. I was told that they charge 500/- just to open it. So even to get it cleaned you shell out that much money, and some more of course! Okay! 'Not too much for the assurance that sony gives you', I rationalized and accepted their terms. They were to give me an estimate on Monday morning. They didn't. Today they did - an estimate of Rs 17,000! I didn't want to hear the details. I calmly asked them not to do anything. For me, it's over. No more Sony cybershot for me.

I am not the only one who has suffered for their incompetence and apathy. Sajjad and one of our team members, Vivek, have already had bitter experiences with Sony cybershot. And the story does not end with them. Read some reviews on web and you'll realize that Sony digi-cams are certainly not upto their reputation and their customer support is downright frustrating. They are as cold as the place they come from, and they just don't care for you. You are just one of their millions of customers, a mere point on a graph! If you harden your heart to pay their servicing charges, you will have to wait for weeks till the parts are procured from Singapore. One of my friends has even fired a lawsuit against them for poor product quality (DSC-H2) and continual harassment.

Sony deserves worse for their attitude alone. Coming to their products, their quality make things further unbearable. In digi-cams, Sony is far from being best. Old boys Nikon and Canon rule unchallenged - for they are superior in quality and they are consumer friendly as well. I wish I knew all this 2 years back.

Despite that, sony dares to go monopolistic. You can use only their memory card in their digi-cams, and only their recorders in their handycams. Their tripods are costlier than most. Even their ordinary covers cost ridiculously high! They seem to tax you for the tag that they give to you, as if you are going to feel something like the count of monte cristo with that damn tag.

I didn't expect my camera to last forever. Life has taught me how fragile things are. And it has taught me that we live in a messed-up world that follows the second law of thermodynamics, and the only thing we can control is our own response to the shit happening outside. I have lost dearer things, and now the very idea of having and not having, gaining and losing seems illusary to me. But this philosophy works at a different level. I don't allow this to be lucrative for the scoundrels. In market, we must demand the value for our money. The take-away message is - think twice before paying for sony cybershot. Sony is less safe than you think.