True Independence

Yeah, everybody is talking about it. Whenever I switch to the news it has essentially been the same catchphrase - "enough is enough!" (One realises that in three days, the news persons have not had anything else important enough to mention. So it dawns upon one that their normal reporting is so pointless!) Enough is enough? I'll tell you what there is enough of in this country - Hypocrisy!

Everything that we commemorate in the name of national pride, and hold high (except the national flag, song and emblem) are but shams. Why even the national anthem makes little sense to me. 'Thou art the ruler of the minds of the people.... ". It is often reported that the anthem was sung to mark the arrival of king George V, which it definitely wasn't (in the words of the great poet himself). However, it is not Jana Gana Mana that echoed in the hearts of people when they fought to free the country from enslavement. It was our dear national song that was adopted by the great martyrs to honour mother India. Vande Mataram should become our national anthem.

In addition, celebration of Independence in this country is hardly justified. When our great forefathers envisioned independent India, it was not one of mere self governance. They were against the British rule because it did not tender the interests of the Indian populace at large. How then have the politicians of today done justice to that pure vision? They have abused and ravaged the nation to the worst possible depths, making her diseased to the bone with the pestilence of dishonesty.What we have done is replaced corrupt British officials with locals who are even worse. Our Independence is the highest form of glorified and latent racism that I have heard of.

And coming back to the bomb blasts, the Pakistani government, having nurtured terrorism to such an extent, is as helpless about routing its proliferation as the mumbaikars are of the underworld in their city. The mafia has done enough and more damage to the city of Mumbai to have cried and protested like this a thousand times over. The people seem mute to these unscrupulous criminals in our own soil. Why? Because here, like the politicians of Pakistan, they are as much a part of the system. Now there is hardly a difference between a terrorist and the underworld - both of them exploit the poor to loot our nation. And at the helm, the underworld and the terrorists are closely knit, which becomes very evident when you think of Dawood's connections.

And finally, the root cause for all this remains to be the common man, who is ranting and wailing with card boards screaming, topped off with lipstick and make-up! In a state where the citizens are honest themselves, there can be nothing that can shake their status. I am reminded of times like the Salt Satyagraha, where the British were absolutely helpless in the face of righteous struggle. The non-cooperation movement went to such an extent as to reform the British, who saw that there can't be anything achieved out of fighting a force so righteous. So think twice before you bribe the next cop on the road. Stand up for your rights at the RTO and get your licence without subscribing to bribe. Realise that the root of all evil is deep within the common man; within those people who are protesting its very existence on national television so that people who have nothing better to broadcast can make a pretty penny out of the glorious display.

True Independence shall that day be achieved, as described by the great poet himself in Gitanjali, -

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

I continuously look forward to that dawn which shall see this vision being realised.

Vande Mataram.

Uncertain Advisors

What we read has always influenced our perception about things around us to a great degree. Of course, am talking about stuff that appears in sources more reliable than, say, TOI (if there is a disagreement, you have my sympathies). Cutting to the chase, a lot of advice and 'scientific findings' that we encounter in newspapers and magazines are extremely primitive. My advice is not to take their's too seriously.

How often has it been seen that these 'masters of good living' contradict their own findings weeks later? Any research that they undertake is, more often than not, either too personal or too complex. When they research personal issues, the results depend largely on their subjects' mannerisms. When they try to investigate issues like the ones concerning the working of the brain, say, they slip into complex domains. The brain remains to be very mystical and elusive. I am often struck by how much more we know about distant galaxies light years away, than of that which is why we know these things. Also, another interesting thought - The human brain is the only entity in our known existence to know of its own existence. Simply put, nothing in this world ( or any other that we know of) knows that it exists, save the human brain.

So, when it comes to brain usage, development, capacity and what not, your judgement can suit you the best. Be open to ideas like GTD (Getting things done.. something that Srik lives by), but keep in mind to restrict their influence only to the degree to which they can come to your aid. If any of these are overdone, the results could be detrimental to the development of your own personality.

Very Rudimentary Haiku

thankfully exist
font and format to hold
haiku like this one

The Enigmatic Man

For those of you seeking a wacky superhero or anything of the like, am sorry to have raised your expectations, for this is a very serious and heartfelt post for the one human being I have had my greatest respect for. This post is a few more lines on The Mahatma.

To me, Gandhiji is one the most enigmatic personalities to have ever been born. Even with a superficial knowledge of his life, one can see that Gandhiji had evolved to become the Mahatma that we know him to be today from very ordinary beginnings. He wasn't a child prodigy who attained a more elevated state of thinking instantly by merely sitting under a tree or by the means of divine messages and such. His road to elevation is one of observation, experimentation and learning through personal experiences. I would like to bring to notice one of his more celebrated, yet lesser recollected achievements, popularly known as the miracle of Kolkata.

Post independence partition saw two major states affected by the worst human misdoings. One being Punjab and the other, Bengal. Lord Mountbatten stationed 55,000 armed soldiers in Punjab while pleading with Gandhi to control Bengal, single handed. We all know the result of what happened in Punjab, while Bengal's result was the miracle.

"What is interesting and important is the manner in which this miracle was performed. He did not go around the streets of Kolkata, he hardly met anyone or made speeches. He accomplished what he wanted by his mere presence and his prayer meetings. And what accomplishments these were! When he arrived in Kolkata, he was greeted by a howling, jeering, cursing mob. In 24 hours’ time, the ‘goondas’ had sheathed their daggers and both communities joined together for the flag-hoisting ceremonies. In a week’s time, attendance at the prayer meetings had jumped to 100,000 people: “lining roof tops, hanging from windows, clustered on balconies”. Within two weeks, there were almost a million. When, on August 31, the peace was broken by the action of some goondas, he did not tour Kolkata trying to implore people not to join in the bloodbath. Instead, he went on a fast, saying, “I am searching deep within myself. In that, silence helps.” Within three days, several gangs of goondas came to Gandhi’s Beliaghata residence and voluntarily surrendered what amounted to a huge pile of grenades, automatic rifles, pistols, knives and other deadly weaponry. It seems obvious to me that the contact he had established with the people of Kolkata, in particular the goondas, was of an intimate and internal, not of a superficial and external, kind." - TS Ananthu

It pains me greatly that such a person receives not the respect he truly deserves, which is not quantifiable by any material means what so ever. Instead, I see a generation with a considerable mass actually accusing Gandhiji of various adulterous acts with grounds as firm as the surface of the thinnest oils, and live in a country ruled by unscrupulous money makers using his name as means for power and wealth.

I have nothing much else to add. The quote speaks for itself. I would be very happy to send my source to anyone who wishes to know.

I'll end with this well known quote by Einstein that encapsules the Enigma that was Gandhi. It seems remarkable to me as to how prophetic Einstein was when he said this.

"Generations to come, it may be, will scarcely believe that such a one, as this, ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth. "- Albert Einstein

Em Won Decryptified

Ok, here is the elaborate funda post that I had promised earlier. My apologies to you if some of these seem too elaborate. I am not taking any chances. (Read making an idiot's guide)

The title is obvious... Initially I had thought of naming it 'me now' and hinting at reversing the words to make them more meaningful.

I find Dadhies' sideburns to be his first feature that comes to mind. And his name was supposed to be evolved from his imitation of a teacher who kept saying 'that is', which is what i used to clue. Datta's clue needs no explaination.

2nd paragraph is dedicated to the three of us who used to engage in games ranging from pictionary to listing out dota stuff to solving Hindu crosswords through class hours, with special mention of Sky's and Appu's. The clues read 'a run' for Arun and 'a four' for Achar.. a-char.

Ah! The third paragraph eluded most minds. This goes out to Hari and Koti who have dominated 2 semesters now with pointers very close to as many years in a decade.
Hari also means 'to tear up' in kannada and koti means crore.

Nerd bench time! Poor Baggy got dragged in. He got what was coming though. Bindu's clue is based on this once, when she misheard Arun saying 'Datta is a wannabe' as 'datta wants a baby', which created a lot of uproar in the njs-tam gang wing and also led to some imbalanced stories as to the aftermath. For the 'tenth avatar' clue think Dashavataram. (Not that lame airbender) Incase you aren't familiar with that sort of knowledge, it is supposed to be kalki, which can as well be spelt kulki on the same lines as bulky. Baggy pants are loose pants.

The fifth paragraph is dedicated to Jiggar, Sriram(The guitarists) and Harsha(The Chess Club member).
As for the last words part, Jiggar much rescembles arguably the most famous barrister of the world and father of a nation during his younger days (Think about it.. He does!). His gujrathi inheritance is icing on the cake. Mahatma Gandhi's last words were 'Hey Ram' which is crudely (poetically also) approximated to Sriram. And anyone who has ever seen Harsha has never seen him without his smile. I congratulate his parents for being one of the most apt namers of children.

Yeah.. Thats the jolly bunch.

Em Won Cryptified

Hidden within are distinguished members of M1 2006, 11 bangies and 2 locos to count them all. Fundae will be posted when the author discerns the time ripe.


You'll find this twosome to its hind,
mostly at nap, escaping the grind.
The first of em with burns charecteristic.
That is, his name, his language simplistic.
The second, alas, disappears with evening's glow,
the easiest to rescue when stranded in white snow.


Come forth to see the succeeding pack of three,
most fervently praying that class were free.
Mostly heads down engadged by game,
without an ounce of disciplined shame.
If you guessed them well, they are surely
a run, a four and your's very truly.


Drift down to the bench of the studious two,
most scholarly of the bunch make up who
in turns alternate, semester's to dominate
the class' scores with how many in a decade.
Their names in the local tongue translates
to tear up a crore. Blessed be their fate.


Step down further and you shall see,
another set of musketeers three.
But these unlike the ones above,
books and notebooks surely love.
One rumoured to want with the dark lord a baby,
loose pants, avatar tenth, the other two maybe.


To the end, to the right, another trio thrives,
either deep asleep or filled with jives.
Gods of guitar and god of chess,
sum up the trio, more or less.
One's name the other's last words to his brothers,
as for the chessmaster, always happier than others.

Road Nirvana

The first thing that hits me when I get back to the good old city is the tremendous increase in traffic density. To keep the above said statement from becoming literal are a few measures that every indian should take. ( Can be broadened to encompass other parts of the world as well)

"Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?" -- George Carlin
 
It is absolutely essential to keep a clear mind while driving, especially if you like to drive fast, to make sure that maniac on a yamaha doesn't take up the form of the divine being who also shares the same name.

Unpainted humps hiding in the dark can break a lot more than just you speed. The city's roads can surprise you with a pothhole under the least expected circumstances in perfect accordance with Murphy's law.

To dogde and survive the many encounters bad traffic can throw up, one should develop an elevated state of mind while driving, which I term road nirvana. Whilst in this state, one neither experiences joy, nor sorrow while on the road. Joy on the road is dangerous in the city as loss of joy is the cause of sorrow. So when you can never possibly derive joy while driving, there is no sorrow in its absence as well. No longer do your shake your fist at the guy honking behind you. No longer do you swear at the slowpoke in front, but try to seek the path of least resistance to cut through the road, in perfect harmony.

Hoping to stay safe on the road. 

Road Nirvana! May its tribe increase. ( 'Chin mudra held' ( Yes, this is a tribute to another blog if you are wondering))

"The Little Barbershop of Horrors"

The title of this peom is a tribute to the Itchy and Scratchy episode that Bart and Lisa come up with in the episode "The Front."

Blissfully asleep, peacefully adream,
interrupted by an infernal scream.
"My son shall not sport ragamuffin hair!"
Exclaims my dad as his are rare.

Ambling on to the barber shop yonder,
reluctant as I was, I began to ponder,
alteast that pack will be easier to bath,
what scared me was the barber's wrath!

Seats you on his swivelling chair,
sprays his stuff on your darling hair,
combs them and makes them stay,
to make you look like you were gay.

As he proceeds, he surely quips,
"Rarer have become, to me, your trips?"
I thought with a smile of the slightest trace,
"The answer is staring right at your face."

Snip snap snip! Gone is your mane,
lionface to plucked chicken's base you wane.
Dettol washed wounds, burning red,
scars from a battle between razor and head.
Some consolation its the local shop,
and not beauty saloon who at a hat's drop,
will demand what I have spent all my life,
on keeping with my barber, this necessary strife.

English Textbooks

Through the years of schooling, I have always loved my english text books. I have distinct memories of lessons that were a part of my text books, as far back as second standard.

After 10th, I encountered text books published by the Karnataka PU board. I agree that the pictures, which looked like a black and white xerox of something had been copied and scanned some 10 times to produce dirty black smudges which can never further be deteriorated, weren't great. But the lessons were very well chosen. They made good reading material even if they didn't meet "high english standards" and weren't swamped with gobbledigooks. I don't care if the language is simple as long as it can convey meaning. Here I quoute a poem which I remembered reading after seeing my cousin's textbook.


An incident in the modern civil rights movement, which shocked America in 1963, was the bombing of a church in Birmingham Alabama killing 4 little girls. This poem was inspired by this incident.

BALLAD OF BIRMINGHAM

"Mother dear, may I go downtown
Instead of out to play,
And march the streets of Birmingham
In a Freedom March today?"

"No, baby, no, you may not go,
For the dogs are fierce and wild,
And clubs and hoses, guns and jails
Aren't good for a little child."

"But, mother, I won't be alone.
Other children will go with me,
And march the streets of Birmingham
To make our country free."

"No, baby, no, you may not go,
For I fear those guns will fire.
But you may go to church instead
And sing in the children's choir."

She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,
And bathed rose petal sweet,
And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands,
And white shoes on her feet.

The mother smiled to know that her child
Was in the sacred place,
But that smile was the last smile
To come upon her face.

For when she heard the explosion,
Her eyes grew wet and wild.
She raced through the streets of Birmingham
Calling for her child.

She clawed through bits of glass and brick,
Then lifted out a shoe.
"O, here's the shoe my baby wore,
But, baby, where are you?"

- Dudley Randall

It talks of how the little girl's mother didn't want to risk her child marching the streets in agitation, but sing in church choir, safe in the arms of god. The tragedy lies in how the latter ended up resulting in what the mother feared the worst.

I found this to be a touching poem which is short and very well written. So, to hell with popular opinion. If there is something about pre university syllbus that is worth remembering, it is definitely the english text books.

Nature's children

Well,

Sweet vacations are here. Many jobless friends are in front of comps with an internet connection they are not ashamed of having, the immediate effect being super updated blogs. Then there are those few kind enough to mention my blog on one of theirs. Seeing mine perpetually at the bottom of every one of those, here goes nothing.

There is also the broken promise on that last post.

There is this theory I would like to propound. The most cherished of our nostalgic memories are always those that are closest to nature. By nature, I don't imply wild jungles or discovery documentaries, but those aspects of our lives which invariably bring us closer to the way nature had meant creatures to be. Before I get more vague and deter you away, let me illustrate.

We are more prone to indulge in reminiscence of past times that we indulge in with minimal technology. Whether it be a trip to the beach, where we got held up due to a rainstorm, or spending time, gathering together and playing cards - stuff that we do without computers and the like. More distinct and nostalgic are my memories of first semester, spent in the hostels without the intrusion of electronic devices, which now consume most of our time. A full day without power during the fourth semester was very hard to get by as a result of our marriage to computers. But thinking back, there is always the feeling that I spent my first semester better.

Ever wondered why it is more thrilling to watch a game at a stadium rather where you can just about make out what is happening, without close up camera replays rather than a television? Why the most advanced acoustics can never simulate the atmosphere of a live concert?

The following semesters of college will be dedicated to more exploration, generation of memories than ever before and retying lost bonds with nature. I really miss those days spent downstairs, climbing every tree in the apartment, turning a blind eye to anyone who threatened to complain to my father, who happened to teach me how to!

I would really appreciate your take on this. I want to find out how people feel about this.

Laundry!

Finally decided to join the millions who blog.

Funny that of all the things that exist, it had to be an afternoon's session of laundry to get me started. The seventh hostel block here at NIT-K makes for one of the most complete disaster tolerance courses in one's life, more so, our wing in particular.

Firstly, my stand on laundry. I love my white t-shirts and really like them to stay that way. This matters to me enough to distrust the local dhobi or any other human force around. The same goes for the surathkal dhobi. Is it worth packing your dirty clothes, lugging them to surathkal in a bus, walking up to the dhobi, waiting for a whole lot of time only to repeat the same process in reverse order to get clothes done? Not to mention, facing the agony of unsatifsfactory service, all of the above notwithstanding. Its not about the money at all, but the fifty rupees saved in the process can be used more pleasurably, looking at the fringe benefits.

Now back to the seventh hostel block, the water supply, teasing and most elusive is every washerdude's worst foe. There is this story about clothes soaked for a week and the ordeal that followed. I'll leave that for another post.

The satisfaction derived out of that fresh white fabric hugging your skin after a refreshing bath makes all that washing, wringing, drying and ironing(in some cases) worth it all.

Will blog again soon