I am dying tonight. I was born virgin, untouched. Virgin of body, virgin of mind, virgin of thought. The whole world was my playground. Everything beckoned me to do my bidding. Get out in the open air to walk my own path, make my own mistakes, cry over them, correct course, learn, be a better person and go on with life. Along the way meet new people, try everything there was to try, fail many times, getting up each time to walk towards the end of life. The day I would lie on my death bed, my life would be a rich tapestry of my experiences, a kaleidoscope of my many colourful adventures. I would have loved, been loved, hated, been hated, stolen hearts, had my heart stolen, broken hearts and would have had mine broken.
Before I had started, I had someone coming over to me and talk to me in hushed tones. It seemed they were telling me some secret noone else knew and I listened intently. I took it seriously. Along the way, I met others who would come to me, tell me things. Each time, I thought they were right and that I was making mistakes. They wanted me to learn from theirs. I did. I avoided paths they had taken and failed on. I treaded with caution on many paths. I looked at some from afar and remembered to not take them. I looked at some others from afar and was tempted to take them but resisted.
There were times I saw people taking the forbidden paths. Many of them fell over, had their teeth shattered, had themselves laughed at. It almost looked dark from far. Their paths were lonely, fraught with danger at every turn. It did not look like living at all. 'Surrendering to evil' is what they called it.
Looking back at what I have been, I dont see much. I just see a path which has many footsteps on it. It is hard, compacted. There are no footprints anymore. I cant see mine. I dont know who I have been. I have achieved a lot in life. I have things to show for it. I have succeeded. I have not lived. I am dying not knowing who I was, who I am, not even knowing what I could have been.
Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves.
- Henry David Thoreau
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
The end of a road
He was encumbered in thoughts. Thoughts circling his mind, thoughts searing his heart. Thoughts that refused to go away, thoughts that refused to let him get away. Outside, a cold, wintry rain was lashing down. The wind was howling, the thunder growling. It was violent and tempestuous. Suddenly, he got up, put on his waterproofs and walked out. Clad all in black, a hood all but covering his face and walking on a grey road, he cut a forlorn, almost a morose figure. There was no one on the country lane for miles. Two jet black crows were cawing on grey electricity wires.
As he walked a little up the lane, his feet, almost as if by instinct led him to a uphill dirt track. A grey dirt track leading through a black jungle. Two roads divulged in the wood and he took the one he had not walked on. As he walked up the road, it got muddier before culminating near two mud huts. That was when he remembered he had been here earlier. It was the road he had not taken that he had not been on. 'I really am lost....in thoughts', he thought to himself.
Scrambling down some rocks, pushing and racking through wet, spiny bushes, he found the road he had not taken. The sky was getting greyer and the day blacker. Mud was clinging to his boots, making them heavy and encumbered, refusing to go away. The rain drops were getting bigger and denser, scattering all over in no patterns. As he passed a small house, a dog started barking and kept barking long after he was out of sight. Nature seemed to talking in metaphors.
Further down the hill, other small tracks led away. He kept to the main track, it held more promise of taking him away from his thoughts. The rain was numbing only his hands. The thoughts were refusing to leave him. The heart was less anxious but the mind was still racing. He fell twice in the mud, each time picking himself up and walking on. A little further, it was the end of a road. There was a small footpath leading to a stream. He walked past the fields towards the stream. The stream had dirty, muddy water in it, dull brown and grey rocks around it.
He sat down on one of the rocks. Head down, legs crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face. The rain came down harder. Rain drops hit him hard on the chest, sending a searing pain through his body. They made a deafening noise in his ears and head, which refused to let him be. Nature was still talking in metaphors. The walk had not really helped. He got up, tried to best collect his thoughts and walked back home. He had not realized how far he had come.
As he walked a little up the lane, his feet, almost as if by instinct led him to a uphill dirt track. A grey dirt track leading through a black jungle. Two roads divulged in the wood and he took the one he had not walked on. As he walked up the road, it got muddier before culminating near two mud huts. That was when he remembered he had been here earlier. It was the road he had not taken that he had not been on. 'I really am lost....in thoughts', he thought to himself.
Scrambling down some rocks, pushing and racking through wet, spiny bushes, he found the road he had not taken. The sky was getting greyer and the day blacker. Mud was clinging to his boots, making them heavy and encumbered, refusing to go away. The rain drops were getting bigger and denser, scattering all over in no patterns. As he passed a small house, a dog started barking and kept barking long after he was out of sight. Nature seemed to talking in metaphors.
Further down the hill, other small tracks led away. He kept to the main track, it held more promise of taking him away from his thoughts. The rain was numbing only his hands. The thoughts were refusing to leave him. The heart was less anxious but the mind was still racing. He fell twice in the mud, each time picking himself up and walking on. A little further, it was the end of a road. There was a small footpath leading to a stream. He walked past the fields towards the stream. The stream had dirty, muddy water in it, dull brown and grey rocks around it.
He sat down on one of the rocks. Head down, legs crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face. The rain came down harder. Rain drops hit him hard on the chest, sending a searing pain through his body. They made a deafening noise in his ears and head, which refused to let him be. Nature was still talking in metaphors. The walk had not really helped. He got up, tried to best collect his thoughts and walked back home. He had not realized how far he had come.
Friday, October 8, 2010
The Other Winner
Long ago, in one of my drunken blogs, I praised Buddha for what he was and proclaimed him 'The Winner'. It was a U-turn from my earlier stance of thinking what he was a loser. Yet another, I am drunk. Yet again, its time to write about something I have been wanting to.
There was a man called Kabir Das, lived in the 15th and 16th centuries. There has been enough written about him, including on the wikipedia link. Thats not the point though. The point is all that people say of him on the web or elsewhere is nonsense. Unfortunately, Kabir wrote in old colloquial Hindi. For a generation which does not understand basic Hindi, understanding Kabir is a chore. The result is books which attempt to translate Kabir and such pathetic attempts to translate, I have never seen.
Being drunk, I think I understand Kabir. Its as if I am a contemporary, as if he discussed everything with me before he penned it down. Kabir is not about prescription. Kabir is not about fixation. Kabir is not about conformism. He is about everything you dont associate with literature. He is about life. He is subjective. He is open to interpretation. You will read what you want to read. Its your mindset which will determine what you make of it or not make of it. Its a blank canvas. He leaves you with a thought. You paint it and come out with a picture. When you look at the picture, thats not what Kabir is. It is what you are and therein lies the beauty, in the eye of the beholder.
Kabir says on love
सबै रसायन हम किया, प्रेम समान न कोय।
रंचक तन में संचरै, सब तन कंचन होय।।
There was a man called Kabir Das, lived in the 15th and 16th centuries. There has been enough written about him, including on the wikipedia link. Thats not the point though. The point is all that people say of him on the web or elsewhere is nonsense. Unfortunately, Kabir wrote in old colloquial Hindi. For a generation which does not understand basic Hindi, understanding Kabir is a chore. The result is books which attempt to translate Kabir and such pathetic attempts to translate, I have never seen.
Being drunk, I think I understand Kabir. Its as if I am a contemporary, as if he discussed everything with me before he penned it down. Kabir is not about prescription. Kabir is not about fixation. Kabir is not about conformism. He is about everything you dont associate with literature. He is about life. He is subjective. He is open to interpretation. You will read what you want to read. Its your mindset which will determine what you make of it or not make of it. Its a blank canvas. He leaves you with a thought. You paint it and come out with a picture. When you look at the picture, thats not what Kabir is. It is what you are and therein lies the beauty, in the eye of the beholder.
Kabir says on love
सबै रसायन हम किया, प्रेम समान न कोय।
रंचक तन में संचरै, सब तन कंचन होय।।
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The death of Hindi
I am no jingoistic nationalist linguist ruing what many have rued before me. I just happen to belong to a generation which I believe is single handedly responsible for making Hindi what it is today. I am from a generation which is not good at Hindi and is proud of it. We are anyway sh*te at English but like to think we know it well. I have to strain my senses to speak one complete sentence strung together with only Hindi words. I am not much better at English either. I write a blog in English and maintain a site in English, partly because I cant write much Hindi and even if I manage to, my readers sure wont understand most of it. We also live in times where people are judged on their English speaking abilities. If you are polite and speak Hindi, you have probably not made it in life and would never do it. If you speak English, courtesy does not matter. You are very likely either someone big or someone connected or both.
I wonder how it came to this. I am not one of those people who whinge at change. Its nice to see things changing, thats the way it is supposed to be. To see a language dying, however is sad. To see an entire art of expressing your thoughts wilt away? To see tons of literature, where you can learn a lot from going waste? These are just catastrophic scenarios and yet they are coming true. By letting the education system veer towards teaching everything in English (except thankfully Hindi as a language) and not do it well and then let the world buy our 'cheap English speaking skills' (which are dubious at best), I dont know where we have reached. In isloation, I dont think either of this is bad. English is the international language, no harm learning it. If you speak better English than others and can earn bread for it, thats even better. What are the fallouts though? That we are often found lacking to find words?
I dont want to cringe and whinge more. By letting it reach here, Hindi does not lose. I am the loser. Starting today, I am going to start reading some long pending Hindi books, only because there is a lot to learn there which I have been missing. I may not find all of them here. Will anybody volunteer to send me some books please? Dont worry, I will pay.
I wonder how it came to this. I am not one of those people who whinge at change. Its nice to see things changing, thats the way it is supposed to be. To see a language dying, however is sad. To see an entire art of expressing your thoughts wilt away? To see tons of literature, where you can learn a lot from going waste? These are just catastrophic scenarios and yet they are coming true. By letting the education system veer towards teaching everything in English (except thankfully Hindi as a language) and not do it well and then let the world buy our 'cheap English speaking skills' (which are dubious at best), I dont know where we have reached. In isloation, I dont think either of this is bad. English is the international language, no harm learning it. If you speak better English than others and can earn bread for it, thats even better. What are the fallouts though? That we are often found lacking to find words?
I dont want to cringe and whinge more. By letting it reach here, Hindi does not lose. I am the loser. Starting today, I am going to start reading some long pending Hindi books, only because there is a lot to learn there which I have been missing. I may not find all of them here. Will anybody volunteer to send me some books please? Dont worry, I will pay.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Why the caste system is ok
This post is going to surprise people. One, because some have thought I stopped posting here. Two, the nature of the beast is such that calling the caste system ok is perhaps a big taboo. This is just an attempt to provide a perspective.
Ever noticed one of the first things we learn as we develop senses? To distinguish! This is mom, this is dad. This is good, that is bad. This is safe, that is harmful. The ability to distinguish is one of the most basic human (and animal) faculties, one which can distinguish between survival and death. The line is fine. Flirt with it and you could be history. Thats ofcourse not that true in today's human world because of how far we have come from natural surroundings and habitats. The point is distinguishing is central to our existence and society.
Fast forward a few years. When we grow up, whats the first thing we do subconciously on meeting people? We try and place them. Place them amongst the stereotypes we know. Our general chit chat starts with education, family, backgound, occupation. Why? We are judging where in the social echeleon does the person facing us stand. Above us or below us? And often, not necessarily intentionally, our judgement has a bearing on our behaviour. How many people have you seen speaking very politely to a guy cleaning a drain? How many people have you seen speaking rudely to someone getting out of a Mercedes?
Banks 'segragate' their customers by the total money they hold with the bank. Those with less money dont have personal service, are not offered all the products, sometimes dont even have their calls picked. Simple, they are not priority. Same goes for all corporates. Philip Kotler called it 'differentitation', as much amongst the people as of the product.
Countries segragate between people using passports. If you are an Asian (ex Japan) and want your passport stamped by the US, you know what you need to go through. Even if that happens, reach JFK and expect a strip down search. Does that happen to a US born US citizen? No, because he/she is perceived to be a lesser threat, both as a terrorist and from a resource drain point of view. India would do the same to a Pakistani citizen. Isn't it always about allocating more resources (which are always constrained) to a few?
The point I am driving at is, we have an inherent insecurity which is perhaps part of being a living being. We want to eliminate that insecurity by putting checks and balances in place to aid survival. We dont want to feel threatened by anyone around us. We need to know who to please and who not to please. We dont want unnecessary complications anywhere. Only as much is necessary to be handled.
Now, rewind back to a rural society. All people have similar assets, land and animals. The earnings are not much different as well. Maybe the richest (except the king of the territory) earns 4 times that the poorest in the village. The society is growing. It now has 5000 people. How do they differentiate? How does one part of the society feel better than the other? How do they ensure better resource allocation to a few? The measures we use today are non existent. The society has not 'globalized and liberalized'.Travel is limited between a few villages, countries do not exist. The world is not networked, MNCs do not exist. Kotler is still not born. There has to be some way of pigeonholing people. Caste system it is! You take occupations and arrange them in a hierarchy and you have the answer. Just to further secure the causes of your insecurity, the powers that be also decree that occupations pass down from generation to generation.
Now when there is nothing wrong with statistical analyses of various kinds, when there is nothing wrong with differentiation amongst nationalities, what is wrong with the caste system? Nothing, except that in today's context, its a little outdated. With new parameters to segragate on, the caste system is not needed. So, lets stop fooling ourselves when we say we dont believe in caste but do believe in segragation. You either believe in both or you dont believe in either. So looking down upon rural societies who still exercise this is not really holy. We do the same thing, in a different way. Just as we think we are doing right in our way, they are doing right in theirs.
Ever noticed one of the first things we learn as we develop senses? To distinguish! This is mom, this is dad. This is good, that is bad. This is safe, that is harmful. The ability to distinguish is one of the most basic human (and animal) faculties, one which can distinguish between survival and death. The line is fine. Flirt with it and you could be history. Thats ofcourse not that true in today's human world because of how far we have come from natural surroundings and habitats. The point is distinguishing is central to our existence and society.
Fast forward a few years. When we grow up, whats the first thing we do subconciously on meeting people? We try and place them. Place them amongst the stereotypes we know. Our general chit chat starts with education, family, backgound, occupation. Why? We are judging where in the social echeleon does the person facing us stand. Above us or below us? And often, not necessarily intentionally, our judgement has a bearing on our behaviour. How many people have you seen speaking very politely to a guy cleaning a drain? How many people have you seen speaking rudely to someone getting out of a Mercedes?
Banks 'segragate' their customers by the total money they hold with the bank. Those with less money dont have personal service, are not offered all the products, sometimes dont even have their calls picked. Simple, they are not priority. Same goes for all corporates. Philip Kotler called it 'differentitation', as much amongst the people as of the product.
Countries segragate between people using passports. If you are an Asian (ex Japan) and want your passport stamped by the US, you know what you need to go through. Even if that happens, reach JFK and expect a strip down search. Does that happen to a US born US citizen? No, because he/she is perceived to be a lesser threat, both as a terrorist and from a resource drain point of view. India would do the same to a Pakistani citizen. Isn't it always about allocating more resources (which are always constrained) to a few?
The point I am driving at is, we have an inherent insecurity which is perhaps part of being a living being. We want to eliminate that insecurity by putting checks and balances in place to aid survival. We dont want to feel threatened by anyone around us. We need to know who to please and who not to please. We dont want unnecessary complications anywhere. Only as much is necessary to be handled.
Now, rewind back to a rural society. All people have similar assets, land and animals. The earnings are not much different as well. Maybe the richest (except the king of the territory) earns 4 times that the poorest in the village. The society is growing. It now has 5000 people. How do they differentiate? How does one part of the society feel better than the other? How do they ensure better resource allocation to a few? The measures we use today are non existent. The society has not 'globalized and liberalized'.Travel is limited between a few villages, countries do not exist. The world is not networked, MNCs do not exist. Kotler is still not born. There has to be some way of pigeonholing people. Caste system it is! You take occupations and arrange them in a hierarchy and you have the answer. Just to further secure the causes of your insecurity, the powers that be also decree that occupations pass down from generation to generation.
Now when there is nothing wrong with statistical analyses of various kinds, when there is nothing wrong with differentiation amongst nationalities, what is wrong with the caste system? Nothing, except that in today's context, its a little outdated. With new parameters to segragate on, the caste system is not needed. So, lets stop fooling ourselves when we say we dont believe in caste but do believe in segragation. You either believe in both or you dont believe in either. So looking down upon rural societies who still exercise this is not really holy. We do the same thing, in a different way. Just as we think we are doing right in our way, they are doing right in theirs.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Ganjing
Its a term in Hinglish used to describe shopping (sometimes window) in the Hazratganj area of Lucknow. I went Ganjing many times when I studied here for 2 years. It was however, narrow minded Ganjing, covering just some restaurants and eating joints. Today was a little different. For starters, I had an SLR in my hand, an itch to click in my head and a friend getting engaged tomorrow. The places I saw therefore, were quite different.
Baba Saheb Bhim Rao Ambedkar guides the Lucknow crowd on its way to shopping.
The telecom wars have reached Lucknow. BSNL, the country's largest operator and Uninor, a new operator fight it out on the main street of Hazratganj.
The nawabi Nagra shoes on display in a Janpath shop. The price tag depends on where you buy them. Cheapest in Old Lucknow, costliest in Hazratganj and a compromisable compromise at Janpath, these are best worn with Kurta and Payjama.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tunda Land
The Confused is wandering to Lucknow on 1st April (and its no fool's day joke). The Confused was not very bright when he was earlier in Lucknow. Infact, he was dumb enough to be vegetarian in the land of Kebabs for full 2 years. This will be a short opportunity but the confused is not confused enough to not make full use of it. 3 days, 12 possible meals, all on kebabs and sharabs. The new Nikon D5000 will accompany the confused and will try to capture stuff when the confused is kebabing and sharabing.
Meanwhile, the confused also came back from an arduous trek in the Dhauladhars. Read more about it here.
Meanwhile, the confused also came back from an arduous trek in the Dhauladhars. Read more about it here.
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