Saturday, 13 September 2008

Friday, 12 September 2008

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

Sunday, 6 July 2008

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.

Tuesday, 1 July 2008

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.

Thursday, 26 June 2008

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))

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

"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.

Monday, 23 June 2008

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.