“Mumbai under siege”, “Mumbai at war” and many such headlines have been flashing on our tv screens since the past 28 hours or so. The attacks have shaken the entire country. Many of us are glued to our television screens keeping a track of the situation, following it perhaps for its “breaking news” value or simply concerned by the sheer audacity of the attack and the implications it brings along with it on the security situation of the country. I, being someone who makes it a point not to be a part of the 24 hour news channel culture, had managed to maintain a fair distance from the tv set during all the other blasts that took place a few weeks back but not this time. I have tried my best to gather every ounce of willpower in me to turn off the tv but with no success. The sight of the Taj burning has probably clogged my brain and disrupted normal functioning of my limbs for it has become almost impossible not to revert back to the news channel just a minute after every attempt made to move away from it. Sleepless in Chandigarh, I am bound to Mumbai – the city where I have spent probably the most memorable years or my life.
In God’s Debris, Scott Adams (of Dilbert fame), cooks up an interesting alternate theory of the universe. A rather interesting argument that comes up in the book is related to our understanding of what is real and what is imaginary. What we may consider real and what we may consider imaginary are both impressions in our memory and are, thus, equal. In the present context, I started thinking about the Mumbai that existed in my memory, the one I rooted for and felt for with all my heart. That will be the Mumbai for me no matter how many blasts or riots take place there. If tomorrow someone bans me from entering it on account of my North-Indian background, my caste, my religion or the language I speak I shall be hurt but that will not be the Mumbai that exists in my memory. It will be another city that simply happens to occupy the same geographical position as Mumbai.
The gunshots continue to reverberate in my mind. “What is happening to Mumbai?” was all that I could manage as a first reaction to the initial reports pouring out of the tv. Those for whom Taj was a synonym for Mumbai or probably the first visual that formed in their minds when they thought of Mumbai, it is probably the memory that has been scarred.
There is, however, another thought that is keeping me from getting any sleep. Why? Why would a bunch of people be so highly motivated to commit the horrendous sin of killing hundreds of people? We obviously need to look for solutions to deal with the immediate security threat but from where is this hatred emanating? What is the root cause? Is there no solution to plug that hole? When shall this civilization emerge above defending borders?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The Messiah is coming
Faiths across the globe believe in the concept of a Messiah whose arrival shall re-establish righteousness and extirpate all evil. Of course, the allusion varies in detail from faith to faith, however, the idea of a Messiah who shall bring salvation seems to be universal (barring atheists and agnostics).
For the last few days I have been struggling to comprehend another universal phenomenon - the widespread appeal of Barack Hussein Obama, the newly elected President of the United States of America. No doubt there are many reasons for the world to cheer. The foremost being that he is not Bush. Besides that there are the obvious other reasons including him being an Afro-American; having a Muslim middle name and promising a radical change of policies on burning issues like the global financial meltdown, the situation in Iraq and the war against Taliban in Afghanistan. But watching people in Kenya, Iran, Egypt, Pakistan, India, Senegal, Australia, France and the UK cheer for him the way they did was unusual and incredible. The newsreader on CNN-IBN kept on repeating that had Indians voted for the election, Barack Obama would have won with a landslide majority.
As a 22-year old, distraught with politics and political leaders, their often-repeated platitudes and insensitive, self-centered politics, I was surprised at my own fascination with the man. Just when I had almost rejected democracy as a failure, following the violence in Mumbai and Orissa and the response of our so-called representatives aka leaders, there came along a leader who captured my imagination and perhaps even restored a little faith. And I was not the only one captivated by this man. The US elections witnessed the largest turnout in many decades with a record number of newly registered voters in the ‘Under 30’ category. People from across the globe rooted for him as well. The way in which one man has captured the imagination of millions (perhaps billions) is extraordinary. One may attribute this extensive outreach and the interest generated consequently to the mass media spanning different continents, races and languages and a scintillating and far-reaching election campaign. Also the fact that the chief executive of arguably the strongest nation in the world is bound to impact the destiny of even those sitting in ‘the remotest corners of the world holding onto a radio’ gave this event its due stature and profoundness (‘our stories are singular but our destinies shared’ as he stated in his acceptance speech). Nevertheless, it was a wave of unprecedented goodwill and support for Barack Hussein Obama that had gripped the world and united not just the United States of America but also the entire world in this singular, most extraordinary event.
However, my intent is neither to glorify the man nor the event. As stated before, I have been trying hard to extricate the psyche behind this seemingly universal appeal. And Eureka! I found it! I found it! It was the ‘Messiah is coming’ syndrome. It is the reaction of a generation of distraught men and women who have lost faith in the men and women who have led them; led them to war, poverty, hunger, disparity, unprecedented greed and sectionalist violence. I am not saying that the plight of the current generation is entirely blamable on its leaders, for a leader is as good as his subjects, but I do feel that the current leaders have, in a way, failed to set a good example. In this scenario of fallible heroes emerged a man who was able to stand upright and above others and talk without indulging in petty politics focusing objectively on the task of leading a flailing nation to financial security and the world to a safer, saner place. His claims were high yet made with conviction and determination and his manner confident and reassuring. He did not indulge in platitudes, and offered practical solutions. He was a black in the land of the white yet did not fit the stereotype of an oppressed, under-educated and frustrated man. He emerged above stereotypes and circumstances and defied several boundaries to become the man that he is. The first Afro-American to become the editor of the Harvard Law Review, the third Afro-American to become a Senator and go on to get the ticket for Presidency of a major political party and then the 44th President of the United States of America can be the credentials only of a man of extraordinary character and fortitude. He became the beacon of hope of not just a country but of people across the world transcending barriers of nationality, race, language and religion. For probably these last few days he has been nothing less than the elusive Messiah. And if every spectacle of the last few days be blurred and every sound stripped down to its essence then what one may see is a dark Messiah clad in a chaste white robe of righteousness and people of all possible backgrounds chanting in all possible languages that the “The Messiah has come”.
History, unlike mythology, however, reveals a far grimmer reality and righteousness and truth do not always triumph in the end. Therefore, only time shall tell how this Messiah fares on the extraordinary expectations of billions.
For the last few days I have been struggling to comprehend another universal phenomenon - the widespread appeal of Barack Hussein Obama, the newly elected President of the United States of America. No doubt there are many reasons for the world to cheer. The foremost being that he is not Bush. Besides that there are the obvious other reasons including him being an Afro-American; having a Muslim middle name and promising a radical change of policies on burning issues like the global financial meltdown, the situation in Iraq and the war against Taliban in Afghanistan. But watching people in Kenya, Iran, Egypt, Pakistan, India, Senegal, Australia, France and the UK cheer for him the way they did was unusual and incredible. The newsreader on CNN-IBN kept on repeating that had Indians voted for the election, Barack Obama would have won with a landslide majority.
As a 22-year old, distraught with politics and political leaders, their often-repeated platitudes and insensitive, self-centered politics, I was surprised at my own fascination with the man. Just when I had almost rejected democracy as a failure, following the violence in Mumbai and Orissa and the response of our so-called representatives aka leaders, there came along a leader who captured my imagination and perhaps even restored a little faith. And I was not the only one captivated by this man. The US elections witnessed the largest turnout in many decades with a record number of newly registered voters in the ‘Under 30’ category. People from across the globe rooted for him as well. The way in which one man has captured the imagination of millions (perhaps billions) is extraordinary. One may attribute this extensive outreach and the interest generated consequently to the mass media spanning different continents, races and languages and a scintillating and far-reaching election campaign. Also the fact that the chief executive of arguably the strongest nation in the world is bound to impact the destiny of even those sitting in ‘the remotest corners of the world holding onto a radio’ gave this event its due stature and profoundness (‘our stories are singular but our destinies shared’ as he stated in his acceptance speech). Nevertheless, it was a wave of unprecedented goodwill and support for Barack Hussein Obama that had gripped the world and united not just the United States of America but also the entire world in this singular, most extraordinary event.
However, my intent is neither to glorify the man nor the event. As stated before, I have been trying hard to extricate the psyche behind this seemingly universal appeal. And Eureka! I found it! I found it! It was the ‘Messiah is coming’ syndrome. It is the reaction of a generation of distraught men and women who have lost faith in the men and women who have led them; led them to war, poverty, hunger, disparity, unprecedented greed and sectionalist violence. I am not saying that the plight of the current generation is entirely blamable on its leaders, for a leader is as good as his subjects, but I do feel that the current leaders have, in a way, failed to set a good example. In this scenario of fallible heroes emerged a man who was able to stand upright and above others and talk without indulging in petty politics focusing objectively on the task of leading a flailing nation to financial security and the world to a safer, saner place. His claims were high yet made with conviction and determination and his manner confident and reassuring. He did not indulge in platitudes, and offered practical solutions. He was a black in the land of the white yet did not fit the stereotype of an oppressed, under-educated and frustrated man. He emerged above stereotypes and circumstances and defied several boundaries to become the man that he is. The first Afro-American to become the editor of the Harvard Law Review, the third Afro-American to become a Senator and go on to get the ticket for Presidency of a major political party and then the 44th President of the United States of America can be the credentials only of a man of extraordinary character and fortitude. He became the beacon of hope of not just a country but of people across the world transcending barriers of nationality, race, language and religion. For probably these last few days he has been nothing less than the elusive Messiah. And if every spectacle of the last few days be blurred and every sound stripped down to its essence then what one may see is a dark Messiah clad in a chaste white robe of righteousness and people of all possible backgrounds chanting in all possible languages that the “The Messiah has come”.
History, unlike mythology, however, reveals a far grimmer reality and righteousness and truth do not always triumph in the end. Therefore, only time shall tell how this Messiah fares on the extraordinary expectations of billions.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
What about 'our' "morality of responsibility"?
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Opinion/Columnists/Gurcharan_Das/God_of_a_lesser_world/articleshow/3453764.cms
We all want a healthy secular democracy but how? The more I see people like Bal Thackeray and Raj Th bullying anyone and everyone they choose to, disrupting the peace of the once open-to-all city millions looked upon as a land of opportunities (something like the American dream) the greater soars my skepticism of achieving anything close to a free society. None of our so-called leaders condemned their actions. Who is going to stand up against them? How can the ground realities in Kashmir be improved? I recently read an article written by a Non-Muslim writer, a Kashmiri Brahmin who had left the valley some decades back. He returned to his village in Kashmir recently and observed blatant hatred for the locals(Muslims) in the attitude of the deployed army. We must not forget that the army has lost thousands in the valley. It may be easy for us to judge and disapprove such an attitude but who knows how would we have responded had we been in their place. In the north(specifically in Punjab), I have heard people complain and curse the valley for claiming the lives of so many North Indians/Punjabis. Living in our protected little cocoons it may not be possible for us to understand the grief of such catastrophic losses as losing sons, friends in their early twenties dying in everyday skirmishes. The same must be the sentiment on the other side (Kashmiris). How can we overcome such strong vendettas that have developed over so many decades. How do we erase the memory of the Gujarat riots or the 1992 bomb blasts or the riots of 1984 from the memories of thousands of victims? And how do we ensure that such blunders are not repeated? Is it even realistically possible to envision a truly free secular India? What can be done? Can we do anything? Some say the answer lies in education and eradicating poverty, making people self-sufficient. These are novel objectives, no doubt, and will definitely improve the state of affairs but are we working towards them? And if 'we' are not working towards them do we except the government to work towards achieving these goals. Can we trust the government? What options do we have? Do we even care? As long as things don't effect us directly we limit ourselves to the comfort of our safe lives but is this sustainable? I was watching a movie soem days back on the plight of the farmers in Maharashtra. A well made movie which totally exposed the attitude of the youth of India towards such problems. The movie ended with the quote that said that when a war is raging it is not possible to stay away from it .. sooner or later it will engulf you.
Gurcharandas says, "We must improve the reality of India and prove to ourselves that India is worth defending. "
I believe that India, the nation-state and the idea, is worth defending. But how?
We all want a healthy secular democracy but how? The more I see people like Bal Thackeray and Raj Th bullying anyone and everyone they choose to, disrupting the peace of the once open-to-all city millions looked upon as a land of opportunities (something like the American dream) the greater soars my skepticism of achieving anything close to a free society. None of our so-called leaders condemned their actions. Who is going to stand up against them? How can the ground realities in Kashmir be improved? I recently read an article written by a Non-Muslim writer, a Kashmiri Brahmin who had left the valley some decades back. He returned to his village in Kashmir recently and observed blatant hatred for the locals(Muslims) in the attitude of the deployed army. We must not forget that the army has lost thousands in the valley. It may be easy for us to judge and disapprove such an attitude but who knows how would we have responded had we been in their place. In the north(specifically in Punjab), I have heard people complain and curse the valley for claiming the lives of so many North Indians/Punjabis. Living in our protected little cocoons it may not be possible for us to understand the grief of such catastrophic losses as losing sons, friends in their early twenties dying in everyday skirmishes. The same must be the sentiment on the other side (Kashmiris). How can we overcome such strong vendettas that have developed over so many decades. How do we erase the memory of the Gujarat riots or the 1992 bomb blasts or the riots of 1984 from the memories of thousands of victims? And how do we ensure that such blunders are not repeated? Is it even realistically possible to envision a truly free secular India? What can be done? Can we do anything? Some say the answer lies in education and eradicating poverty, making people self-sufficient. These are novel objectives, no doubt, and will definitely improve the state of affairs but are we working towards them? And if 'we' are not working towards them do we except the government to work towards achieving these goals. Can we trust the government? What options do we have? Do we even care? As long as things don't effect us directly we limit ourselves to the comfort of our safe lives but is this sustainable? I was watching a movie soem days back on the plight of the farmers in Maharashtra. A well made movie which totally exposed the attitude of the youth of India towards such problems. The movie ended with the quote that said that when a war is raging it is not possible to stay away from it .. sooner or later it will engulf you.
Gurcharandas says, "We must improve the reality of India and prove to ourselves that India is worth defending. "
I believe that India, the nation-state and the idea, is worth defending. But how?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out
-Ironic, Alanis Morrisette
In High School: A huge fan of Lonely Planet and a life that promised adventure and a sense of nascent joy every day. Told my mom, I am going to work for the Discovery channel someday!
Second Year: While working on a project i'd keep coming across a website when searching for a new term or concept.. it was hosted by Cornell
Constantly referred to the papers of a research group at Cornell
Secretly prayed: If only I could study there
Third Year: Didnt apply for any company that came for internship in the first half. Went for the walk-in interviews conducted by reliance. Wasn't selected. Felt crushed. Someone said, "You deserve better". A few months later, read a mail for an internship application for a company called Schlumberger, read the job profile and loved it!
Secretly hoped to get it.
blah blah..Well I eventually ended up having some of my wishes fulfilled. Life has a funny funny way of helping you out.
May/June 2008: Last few days in IIT, and over chat i was sharing rather discussing my feelings on leaving IIT with a friend I call Loo. "The worst thing is that we will give up everything we have now, move away from people we care about and so many things and places that have touched our lives to be lost in the mundane events of our new life. It will not be a lack of feelings or love or whatever binds people that will separate us but our inability to escape the mundane things that drive our existence that will tie us down. Survival may have become simpler but it does exact the same chunk from our lives that it probably did decades back", I said (or something to that effect). And since 'life has a way of sneaking up on you', it made me realize the importance of everything that I referred to as mundane and everyday. Stuck in limbo, with a total loss of a schedule or a routine, I do now respect the mundaneness of life and probably will embrace it with the same respect once I earn it.
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn't it ironic...don't you think
A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think...
It's like rain on your wedding day
It's a free ride when you've already paid
It's the good advice that you just didn't take
Who would've thought... it figures
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out
-Ironic, Alanis Morrisette
In High School: A huge fan of Lonely Planet and a life that promised adventure and a sense of nascent joy every day. Told my mom, I am going to work for the Discovery channel someday!
Second Year: While working on a project i'd keep coming across a website when searching for a new term or concept.. it was hosted by Cornell
Constantly referred to the papers of a research group at Cornell
Secretly prayed: If only I could study there
Third Year: Didnt apply for any company that came for internship in the first half. Went for the walk-in interviews conducted by reliance. Wasn't selected. Felt crushed. Someone said, "You deserve better". A few months later, read a mail for an internship application for a company called Schlumberger, read the job profile and loved it!
Secretly hoped to get it.
blah blah..Well I eventually ended up having some of my wishes fulfilled. Life has a funny funny way of helping you out.
May/June 2008: Last few days in IIT, and over chat i was sharing rather discussing my feelings on leaving IIT with a friend I call Loo. "The worst thing is that we will give up everything we have now, move away from people we care about and so many things and places that have touched our lives to be lost in the mundane events of our new life. It will not be a lack of feelings or love or whatever binds people that will separate us but our inability to escape the mundane things that drive our existence that will tie us down. Survival may have become simpler but it does exact the same chunk from our lives that it probably did decades back", I said (or something to that effect). And since 'life has a way of sneaking up on you', it made me realize the importance of everything that I referred to as mundane and everyday. Stuck in limbo, with a total loss of a schedule or a routine, I do now respect the mundaneness of life and probably will embrace it with the same respect once I earn it.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Hear the music Before the song is over
SLOW DANCE
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Me the heroine
I have recently been referred to as the 'heroine'. Accused to be playing one despite lacking all assets one is required to possess. The chiding comes not from my parents who, I personally believe, in the least, have earned the right to chide me on such matters by I (and other) PRs bestowed upon them by destiny. It comes from my friends. Friendship is a vague concept. It's the smartest thing human beings have done to justify their need for humanness around them. We are social animals. We should be, rightly, perhaps. [Listen to Society, Movie: Into the Wild]. Well I am trying to be the heroine yet again. So that brings me back to myself being fondly and often referred to as 'heroine'. Harmless, rather affectionate.
So when I was fretting, my eyes managing to squeeze out huge drops of condensed emotion after a really long time, narrating my tale of misfortune to my friends, I felt guilty. Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged of being a 'heroine'. I have always heard people marvel at the interesting lives of other people; watch movies and read travelogues in awe. But when it comes to someone in close proximity attempting even something as safe as an exorbitantly-paid job with all possible security in a, well, 'godforsaken' (May God be praised) place under a contract which even promises the payment of extortion money for the first two abductions and in no way implies bonded slavery, they mock. Everybody does. I do. We mock everything that promises the realization of our wildest dreams. The truly wild, uninhibited imagination, can be dangerous to our practical, smart living. We live in denial initially and then in acceptance. The acceptance of life as it is, as it is supposed 'to be' makes us mock. We mock to convince ourselves and others around us that being pilots or astronauts, or simply aimless wanderers is too heroic, too quixotic perhaps to be tried 'at home'. We fear the realization that perhaps our wildest dreams were not all that unattainable. Perhaps along with the right to control the reins of our life we also possess the right to let the horses of our imagination loose and lead us, if not too far, then at least, to the acceptance of the 'not to be'. We all grow up reading "The road less traveled" but we mature when we accept it to be a poem(thoughts too impractical and therefore recollected only in tranquility) rather than believe in it as a philosophy. Are we ever going to swim until we reach the bounds of 'Seaheaven' and see beyond the sham we currently refer to as life? Is this so difficult to understand?
So when I was fretting, my eyes managing to squeeze out huge drops of condensed emotion after a really long time, narrating my tale of misfortune to my friends, I felt guilty. Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged of being a 'heroine'. I have always heard people marvel at the interesting lives of other people; watch movies and read travelogues in awe. But when it comes to someone in close proximity attempting even something as safe as an exorbitantly-paid job with all possible security in a, well, 'godforsaken' (May God be praised) place under a contract which even promises the payment of extortion money for the first two abductions and in no way implies bonded slavery, they mock. Everybody does. I do. We mock everything that promises the realization of our wildest dreams. The truly wild, uninhibited imagination, can be dangerous to our practical, smart living. We live in denial initially and then in acceptance. The acceptance of life as it is, as it is supposed 'to be' makes us mock. We mock to convince ourselves and others around us that being pilots or astronauts, or simply aimless wanderers is too heroic, too quixotic perhaps to be tried 'at home'. We fear the realization that perhaps our wildest dreams were not all that unattainable. Perhaps along with the right to control the reins of our life we also possess the right to let the horses of our imagination loose and lead us, if not too far, then at least, to the acceptance of the 'not to be'. We all grow up reading "The road less traveled" but we mature when we accept it to be a poem(thoughts too impractical and therefore recollected only in tranquility) rather than believe in it as a philosophy. Are we ever going to swim until we reach the bounds of 'Seaheaven' and see beyond the sham we currently refer to as life? Is this so difficult to understand?
Monday, May 19, 2008
The upside-down house
Whenever I read Amitav Ghosh I cannot just stop at that. When I was reading The Shadow Lines it took me 15 years back in time to the time when I was a little child. I remembered having a recurring dream. We stayed in Chandigarh the capital of Punjab and Haryana, 5 hours from New Delhi. My cousins and grandparents lived in Delhi and the best part of my summers was to visit my cousins in Delhi. I always looked forward to going to Delhi. This was before we had a car so we would go by train. In my dream I would see me with my family boarding the train. The train looked morose for some reason and I wouldn't feel too excited which were curious aberrations. And then it would happen , every time, every night and I would wake up startled staring out at the dark sky visible from the balcony. As we would be sitting in the train someone would place a packet under my seat and immediately leave. The dream ended there or maybe it didn't. But what woke me up was not what followed but the fear of what would follow. These were the late 1980s and the Sikh movement in Punjab was pretty much alive. Chandigarh was more or less the safest place in the whole Punjab. A city of the educated and the retired had little part to play in the revolution. From where I became a victim of the dream was initially hard to trace but it came back slowly. My paternal grandparents live in this place called Gurdaspur which lies in the heart of Punjab. We would hardly go there. We feared what might happen to us on the way or that is what I thought was the reason. That may have materialized in the form of the dream. The dream lasted for a week. It is ironical how I finally got rid of the dream. My mom told me how nothing could hurt us, how we would remain unscathed because God would protect us and somehow her words instilled such faith in me that I never had that dream again. The irony is that how the faith that had made me feel protected against my worst fears had translated into something that had been the cause of those fears in the first place.
The journey I decided to embark upon after reading "An Egyptian in Baghdad" from the collection of prose pieces titled "The Imam and the Indian" was of a slightly different nature . I was on virtual trip to Egypt and the middle east. My fascination with the upside-down house continues. I want to see the other side of the world . As a child I was fascinated by Lonely Planet and wanted to tread the unknown and the mysterious. Do I expect things to be upside-down there? I don't know. Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Amman, Israel, Iraq, Iran and Kuwait. Their destinies entangled more by geography than history. I remember a very candid remark made by Atal Behari Vajpayee, he said "We can change history but we cannot change geography." I remember how, I, as a student had received the Arab-Israel conflict. It was befuddling as it would be to a dreamy 14 year old because I couldn't understand why all the fuss for a piece of land. But even more surprising was how we read that part of history like chapters from a story book. The six days war and Yasser Arafat were like events and characters from an epic. Too far too medieval.
Let me first start with what the prose says about Egypt, Iraq, Saudi, Jordon, Kuwait and Iran.
An epitaph (After the Requiem for the dream?)
This article died in it's cradle after the author checked a mail that doomed her to stay away from the mysterious for perhaps another six years and maybe for life. Let's just hope Maupassant was wrong. Let's just hope the cynic within me doesn't have the last laugh. Let's just hope life ain't all that singular and some loop somewhere will bring me back to this article.
The journey I decided to embark upon after reading "An Egyptian in Baghdad" from the collection of prose pieces titled "The Imam and the Indian" was of a slightly different nature . I was on virtual trip to Egypt and the middle east. My fascination with the upside-down house continues. I want to see the other side of the world . As a child I was fascinated by Lonely Planet and wanted to tread the unknown and the mysterious. Do I expect things to be upside-down there? I don't know. Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Amman, Israel, Iraq, Iran and Kuwait. Their destinies entangled more by geography than history. I remember a very candid remark made by Atal Behari Vajpayee, he said "We can change history but we cannot change geography." I remember how, I, as a student had received the Arab-Israel conflict. It was befuddling as it would be to a dreamy 14 year old because I couldn't understand why all the fuss for a piece of land. But even more surprising was how we read that part of history like chapters from a story book. The six days war and Yasser Arafat were like events and characters from an epic. Too far too medieval.
Let me first start with what the prose says about Egypt, Iraq, Saudi, Jordon, Kuwait and Iran.
An epitaph (After the Requiem for the dream?)
This article died in it's cradle after the author checked a mail that doomed her to stay away from the mysterious for perhaps another six years and maybe for life. Let's just hope Maupassant was wrong. Let's just hope the cynic within me doesn't have the last laugh. Let's just hope life ain't all that singular and some loop somewhere will bring me back to this article.
In the Shadows
"Everything is upside-down in their country" The Indian and the Imam
"..eager to absorb what they can of the magic of the spectacle of two straight lines intersecting." Four Corners
"..eager to absorb what they can of the magic of the spectacle of two straight lines intersecting." Four Corners
The good, the bad and the beautiful
"Men who are dandies and women who are darlings rule the world, atleast they should do so." Oscar Wilde, The Model Millionaire
I read this short story some 8 years back but this particular idea stayed with me. Not as a concept to be pondered upon but rather as a very straightforward bold statement about how the world order should be. Well we read things and they are pushed into certain rarely accessed corners of our memory. I had a eureka moment today though. The truth of this statement chose to reveal itself before me today as I was unobtrusively walking down the road leading from the departmental academic area to hostel-10. Life is a series of nothings I read somewhere. But every now and then you let yourself believe that you are a part of something important. You feel passion and zeal and a motivation to excel. That is when you are deeply engrossed in your thoughts driven by purpose. I was in a similar state of mind, thinking hard about my project problem. The results I was getting were not as expected. I was thinking. I looked up. One amazing thing about this place is that it never fails to bring a smile to your face and a moment of calm to your wavering mindwhenever you give it a chance. I saw the resplendent pinks and oranges and purples against the vast amber expanse of the sky and the dark green of leaves piece-by-piece as if someone had patiently painted them with careful brush strokes. I said to myself. - I love this place. I love it for its sheer beauty. Even if I had no memories associated with it I would have loved it still. And I understood why beauty can be so moving. While we believe that our decisions are based on how we define good and bad, it may be the beautiful that inspires us.
I read this short story some 8 years back but this particular idea stayed with me. Not as a concept to be pondered upon but rather as a very straightforward bold statement about how the world order should be. Well we read things and they are pushed into certain rarely accessed corners of our memory. I had a eureka moment today though. The truth of this statement chose to reveal itself before me today as I was unobtrusively walking down the road leading from the departmental academic area to hostel-10. Life is a series of nothings I read somewhere. But every now and then you let yourself believe that you are a part of something important. You feel passion and zeal and a motivation to excel. That is when you are deeply engrossed in your thoughts driven by purpose. I was in a similar state of mind, thinking hard about my project problem. The results I was getting were not as expected. I was thinking. I looked up. One amazing thing about this place is that it never fails to bring a smile to your face and a moment of calm to your wavering mindwhenever you give it a chance. I saw the resplendent pinks and oranges and purples against the vast amber expanse of the sky and the dark green of leaves piece-by-piece as if someone had patiently painted them with careful brush strokes. I said to myself. - I love this place. I love it for its sheer beauty. Even if I had no memories associated with it I would have loved it still. And I understood why beauty can be so moving. While we believe that our decisions are based on how we define good and bad, it may be the beautiful that inspires us.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
A more formal entry on the Total Summer School, 2007, Paris
My four years of toil as a student of Chemical Engineering at IIT Bombay bore fruit when I was selected to attend the Total Summer School in Paris. An international student conference designed to bring together 100 students representing over 25 nations and as many cultures was more than an opportunity. It was a door to the world that lay outside my reach, my language and my beliefs. The mix of students was eclectic. I met a journalist from Germany, a physicist from the US, a student of Geology from Nigeria, a Civil Engineer from MIT, a law student from my own country and characters as weird as those in a Jim Carry starrer. Interacting with students from all over the world made me realize that the young from across nations, cultures and races dream of a better future and there lies the hope for a better tomorrow.
We stayed in an 18th century abbey transformed into a comfortable 4 star hotel at Vaux de Cerney, a few miles from the main city. The conference commenced with students from different countries giving presentations on their countries and cultures. From the overtly stern Russians to the plain frank Londoners, to the simple but proud Chinese and the cheery Africans, we saw colorful mosaic of people, cuisines, music, arts, cultures and characters through those presentations.
A typical day at the conference entailed lectures, Q&A sessions, group discussions and presentations from 8 in the morning to 7 in the evening. Students used the breaks for meals and snacks to unwind and became overly chatty eager to meet as many people and know as much about their life and culture. Discussions over meals ranged from the Arab-Palestinian conflict to the status of women in Germany and India, to the expectations from the new French President to Beatles, Kashmir, French value system, cultural differences, life, relationships, the first woman president of India, movies, books, dream jobs, music, cricket, Bollywood, the popularity of ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’ and ‘Mahabharata’ in Indonesia and everything else under the sun. It was like the most enriching experiences had been condensed to fit into a period of 7 days. Some of the experiences that stand out were singing a song (barring happy birthday and merry Christmas numbers) by multi-lingual, multi-cultural teams during a scavenger hunt, a match of football which started off with massive confusion over whether we were playing soccer or football, seeing Monalisa at Louvre, a river cruise at Seine and the final day when everyone was teary-eyed yet smiling, cherishing every moment spent during the week. I strongly felt that music and sports are the two things that truly transcend all barriers and bring people together.
An entire day during the week was spent at the Total Head Office at La Defense in Paris. La Defence is the business district of Paris and has been developed on the outskirts of the city in an attempt to preserve the vintage picturesque look of the city. We got an opportunity to meet and interact with Mr. Christrophe de Margerie, the CEO of Total. His candor and jovial nature impressed one and all. Our cultural excursions included guided tours of the gardens of Versailles, the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre Museum.
For almost an entire week we listened and discussed various issues of international importance. I was amazed by my own ability to do so. The limelight on India and China was overwhelming. We saw how the “developed” had shunned the title “developing” and re-christened us “emerging”. Our growing significance in the global scenario was being recognized by experts from everywhere. From peak oil to bio-fuels to the nationalization of oilfields in Africa we traced the intricate web of pipelines weaved all over the globe to deliver the liquid gold we purchase at the petrol station.
The conference covered various aspects of the energy crisis and discussed different plausible solutions. We realized the enormity of the energy crisis which is staring us right in the face. Many believe that we are sitting on the peak and slowly sliding towards the rock bottom of oil production. Soon coal production will peak. The demands of the billions from the emerging economies are soaring. The key would lie not only in increasing the efficiency of recovery and utilization of the conventional fuels but also in developing technology for non-conventional oils and alternative fuels.
IEA reports suggest a 20 fold increase in nuclear energy in the world energy mix in 2100. 60% of the energy required for ground transportation is predicted to come from nuclear energy. At the Total Summer School many experts believed that the solution lies in nuclear energy.
Proponents of the hydrogen economy suggest that hydrogen holds the key to ongoing energy demands. However, certain physical parameters will always limit the use of hydrogen as an energy vector to specific niche applications.
Biofuels and other forms of renewable energy aim to be carbon neutral or even carbon negative. If the land was previously a (tropical rain-) forest, the carbon absorption of this forest should be deducted from the greenhouse gas savings. This implies that the net effect of burning bio-fuels is an increase in greenhouse gasses.
Oil giants are today spending millions on research to find solutions to the energy crisis. $122/barrel is the commodity price of oil today. The $100/barrel mark has already been broken. Many alternate sources can now compete with petrol. This should be an impetus for more concerted and drastic measures to make alternate sources more viable.
The conference ended on a note of deep concern. There seems to be a catch in every solution. Combine that with political conspiracies, hegemonic tendencies of certain nations and oil giants, geopolitical tensions and you have the most daunting challenge of the 21st century. The word “energy” incidentally equates with the Greek word for “challenge.” We must accept the challenge. We must come together. We have no other option but to win this war against time and against our own tendency to abuse nature and its resources.
The Total Summer School was an enlightening experience. It was the experience of a lifetime. It brings back memories of eager faces of disparate colors and features passionately discussing global issues, Monalisa’s enchanting smile at the Louvre and the liberating sight of the shimmering Eiffel Tower from a boat on the river Seine.
Merci Total.
Sai Pooja Mahajan
Fifth year Student
Chemical Engg, IITB
Monday, March 24, 2008
first anniversary
it wasnt love at first sight.... it wasnt infatuation either... it was intricate and complex... it intrigued me ..... i was attracted yet had no idea why... it wasnt beautiful at first as they say... yet he kept me engrossed and confused until i unraveled every little web he had woven ... the first touch was magical... it transported me to a whole new world... i felt like alice in wonderland... i looked around .. everything amazed me .. yet i could make very little of what i saw... the dynamics of this new world confused me... i came out of the hole to the comfort of my old world... but the sensation of that first magical touch remained with me... i once again entered the hole .. and with my whole being outstretched.. i let myself fall... i landed with a thud on the hard ground.. ouchh .. i was hurt.. but i was determined .. i looked around and took this path which was like a roller coaster.. every time i tried to tread carefully and walk straight, the path played tricks on me and catapulted me to a totally different place... i was tired and lost and longed to return to the certainty of my old world... i returned ... never to return again... but ever since i returned i was rearing to go.. i wanted to fight this monster.... strange since this had started with the sweetest feeling ... the most tender touch .. well this time i went all out ... i looked into the hole... it was dark and seemed abysmal... i let myself fall... fall as freely as i could.. i refused to acknowledge the presence of the ground under ... i landed in his arms (cheesy, i know) .. he showed me around... the roller coaster ride became a walk along the beach where we looked beyond the horizon seeking the difference (perhaps the similarity) between the sea and its mirror image ... the sky ... i was in love.. its been an year and i have seen it in everything around me ... the hole has simply ceased to exist and both my worlds have become one ...
its been an year since i read The Shadow Lines and its been an year since I fell in love with Amitav Ghosh ..
its been an year since i read The Shadow Lines and its been an year since I fell in love with Amitav Ghosh ..
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