Sunday, September 20, 2009

Why-oh-Why

To those who asked and to all those who didn't bother to, I am still alive, though I can't say the same about my net connection. Repeated moving and change of location has left me with several computers but no connection to the Internet. No, I didn't get a proxy to type this out. I managed to find a net-cafe. 

So I have been busy and mobile and been doing a lot of fun things which I couldn't for several months before. But all of that has taken a toll on my writing and reading. I'll be back. I have a good number of pictures from a recent trip, I have stories to tell, I have adopted 3 kids (see? Already started with the stories), I have been invited by an army subhedar to his village in Punjab-uh (you never go to Punjab; it is always Punjab-uh), a pretty young girl preparing to be an air-hostess led me into the mountains (and I dutifully followed her), a man found pleasure in oiling me up, I have had my derriere freeze and chip off everytime I bumped into someone, another girl is planning to take me into the Amazon forests, I won a dinner for my team, I hiked 13 steep kilometers, I met a girl who is proud to be from Khajuraho (when she told me, I laughed and then had to sheepishly give another explanation), I had a horse wallop me between my legs and I think all I will ever father is jellyfish (not as a punishment for having laughed), I broke a fast, I disappointed a girl by telling her that all I had for dinner was bread and cheese (it seems she calls me to ask me about my dinner and gets a kick out of the elaborate spread that I describe) and a lot lot more has happened in my life. Yeah, all good things (or so I keep telling those around me).

So stay tuned (I know, I am talking just to myself) for a few posts, poems, pictures, piranhas (I had to say something starting with "P"!).

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

The say of hands

She sat achéval on her father’s leg, her two doll legs swaying to the tell of the train. She was listening to him intently though the occasional vendor who walked past her often claimed greater interest. She was wrapped in a tiny jacket with a leopard-print fur lining – probably synthetic – and her colliding heels, beneath her father’s thigh, made no noise. Her father leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and she received it casually. Her two cousins came over and enthusiastically played with my little one. She enjoyed their company.
The cousins – two girls – were probably of seven and eleven full years. The younger one was adorable with a lovely mouth the size of a lipped pinhole. Her senior was caught in an age which was neither cute nor curvaceous with a mind juggling between wanting to be cute while being called “grown-up”. She would cast a glance my way and when our eyes met, she would slowly look away while correcting the lock of hair behind her ear. She’d quickly look back to check whether I noticed or not and then check a smile before crashing into her seat. The younger one, wouldn’t bother because I was way beyond her age and hence, unlikely to be fun company.
Three girls and a few women dimmed out the remaining passengers who accompanied me on my trip though the trio formed the cynosure. They held in them a vitality which every woman seems to trade for vanity. Thus, they grow older.
I watched the youngest one play with everyone and wondered whether she was aware that she held the potential for being a woman. The younger of the cousin too didn’t seem to be aware of that while she innocently tugged her knickers into convenience. Her sister, a decaying reflection of her, seemed to invite vague notions of being a woman and would probably smile at someone who called her “finely blossoming young lady” (though I doubt people speak thus) without knowing what actually made her happy and warm in her chest.
All in your hands

In my mental journey between the youngest one and a woman who was lowering a bag from the racks above (clumsily unmindful of her brassiere strap showing) I couldn’t help be amazed at the entirety of life contained in a single human being. The woman – now struggling to balance the bag on her finger tips as she lowers it – once sat on her father’s knee too. She had once let strange hands hold her in loving embrace. She had once looked around and thought women are so strangely shaped and she definitely wouldn’t grow into being one of them with baubles of flesh hanging from everywhere. She had once let her mother change her clothes in front of everyone while one of the older siblings teased her with “tchee tchee”. And she had cried that day, not because she was a woman but because someone teased her about something that is probably not nice. Today she has a husband and kids and I have her just for this minute as I watch her scold her husband for not distributing the weight amongst the bags (he continues to read his magazine).

Often I have held a young girl’s palms in mine and wondered the world of touch that is promised to them. Those very hands will hug her parents and hold her “bestest” friend’s hands while they skip down the school corridor; they will hold a large sandwich while they dig a bite one centimeter into the bread and groan that their mouth is full and giggle, sputtering potato crumbs everywhere and laugh at that too; they will run those hands over pink dresses and beg their parents to buy it for them; hands that will run through their hair while they change shampoos in the hope to find that right one; pulling or pressing their suddenly odd shaped chest, subject to the urge of either ending their “girly” days or postponing the “embarrassing” ones; trying on makeup, holding their hips while they twirl in front of the mirror, some going on to handling chemicals and equipment while others happier with their Mills & Boons novels and mobile phones and then their first crush and leaving that magical hand of their in his, imagining the entire world to be made of only such happy moments and then happier ones when she would hold his face as he kissed her deep enough to cause her stomach to somersault with joy, hands that would soon carry a ring and ring in responsibilities that annoy or trouble their fairytale world, hands that would direct him into her carefully, months before their first child whom she would hold to her breast and once the babe is asleep, she would slowly worm a finger into that tiny fist – yes, she is holding it tight which means my baby loves me the most. And I smile at those hands now impatiently placed on mine, occasionally withdrawn to scratch her cheeks or dig her nose, and bend down to kiss them – several decades of life cupped in my hands.
“That’s ok uncle E, what do my hands say? Mom said you can tell the future by looking at hands. Will I become an actress? A model?”
“A princess?”
“No, dad’s not a king.”
“Cinderella?”
She gives me the you-can’t-be-serious look.
“Ok, ok. So you want to be an actress?”
“Yes or a model.”
If acting out all that I saw in her hands would be her life then she surely would be, as others would be, an actress.
“Oh! Most certainly.”

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Do the Do

Sorry for not responding to comments or posting new material. I am in the process of doing what I am known best to do (no, not cooking.. NO, not eating, either): moving cities. Hence, I will be away for a while (ranging from 10 min to a week). Hope to return with a new surge of joy!

Monday, August 17, 2009

Aachoo

More than a post about H1N1 or swine flu (though the porcine relation is now diluted: it is a quadruple reassortant virus. But swine flu is easier to spell!) this is about how we cannot entirely trust the sources of information we think we can rely on and how it is humanely infeasible to verify the truth about everything we hear. There has been a panic about H1N1 in India. I don't watch TV and surely not news channels. Hence, I get to know about Britney Spears and H1N1 through friends (and the news givers sift themselves into personas!). I do read the newspapers sometimes and read enough to know that I am supposed to panic. Those who know me, know that I don't ever panic. I didn't even now but I took this rather seriously and wore a face mask while travelling in the bus. Yesterday, I was in the midst of coughs and clearing throats and realised that I noticed these more than I would on any other day. I even came home and had a bath. Then I decided to collect info for myself.
If I told you that up to 500,000 people died per year due to a disease and that is mostly in the developed countries, wouldn't you take it seriously?
If I told you that this disease occurs twice a year wouldn't you take it seriously?
If I told you that the disease causing virus keeps getting "better" nearly every year and vaccines have to be continuously modified to accommodate this development, wouldn't you be worried?
If you answered yes to all of the above, then why aren't the news channels and newspapers making a hype about the seasonal flu which has struck nearly every one of us every year? The WHO provides some good information about H1N1. You could find a lot of info about Seasonal Influenza, too, on their site.
Media has made us believe that H1N1 is unusually fatal. This is not true. Media has probably made us believe that this is not curable. This is not true. Media (in India) has made us believe that medicines are the only recourse. This, I believe, is not true (I will explain shortly). Media has also made statements about the inadequacy of medical supplies in India. This appears to be false.
The primary cause of concern is the newness of this virus. Had this been around for a while, people would be less worried. Why? Because the health industry would have come up with a hundred tablets and a couple of vaccines. WHO mentions that standard drugs which are inhibitors of neuraminidase can work, as H1N1 belongs to the family of Influenza type A. There are enough drugs in the market which belong to that category. Don't pop pills. The novelty of this virus has created a panic attack for misplaced reasons. My point is, in spite of the seasonal flu being so common and treated for so many decades, it still kills several thousand people per year! Hence, flu (of any sorts) can be fatal: some for known reasons and some for unsolved reasons. That is the truth (factual).
So why panic about H1N1? Because our helplessness with it is more than with normal seasonal flu. Which means that we can only be worried about the lack of medical advancements. Which implies something that I will not get into in this post.
I have had flu quite a few times in my life and my most commonly employed cure is to do nothing. I would let the fever come, shake up my schedule and go. Most ailments have been handled thus in my life. Doesn't make it the best approach, just something I do. It appears that H1N1 too could be tackled in a similar manner. There are Swine Flu Parties which take this approach to the next level! Has any news channel/newspaper mentioned this possibility? But it is fairly common treatment for seasonal flu. I agree that H1N1 is fairly new (though it also struck in 1918) but most strains of flu are.
I cannot deny that the media has created a wide awareness about H1N1. Nevertheless, I feel that the panic that it has instilled is unwarranted. To report merely on the deaths than all the number of people cured and statistical information creates panic which is pointless. It is important to maintain hygiene but wearing masks is taking things a little farther than required. There is always going to be a virus around. Are we going to wear a mask always?
WHO has marked this pandemic mild to moderate in severity. Medicines exist for this disease. Simple hygiene suffices. It is very easily and methodically curable. The fatality rate is probably on par with any other kind of flu (avian flu is an exception). So, why panic? Why hype this one disease to levels that make it seem as dangerous as an Ebola fever!?
So whose responsibility is it to provide factually correct and educated information to the public? In whom do we place trust? Should the media have a protocol about presenting potentially inciting (for the wrong reasons) information? I still recall the manner in which the Taj hotel incident was covered.
Point is, if our only sources of information are hyped, biased and/or inaccurate, then what do we do?

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Making Mama Proud

I was and still am extremely proud of my little boy going up on stage, confidently adjusting the microphone and then reeling out Urdu the way it should be. Ain't he adorable!? So my mom and his mom (who also happens to be my sis) get to argue about who's son was better on stage at this age! Little boy and me ignore them and watch cartoons! We both agree I was a lot cuter though the brat looks at my collection of his pics and tells me "Mama, I am so cute, no?" Runs in the family, I suppose! :-D I will write a post about how I took to the stage and ate all the lipstick sticks that the teachers had brought along.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Understanding Duality

A recent post found Pingu quote from the Hua Hu Ching (supposedly an unknown work of the Lao Tzu) and Parvati present her views on it. For those who find it tiring to look through the comments, here is the quote:

How can the divine Oneness be seen? In beautiful forms, breathtaking wonders, awe- inspiring miracles? The Tao is not obliged to present itself this way. It is always present and always available. [When speech is exhausted and mind dissolved, it presents itself. When clarity and purity are cultivated, it reveals itself. When sincerity is unconditional, it unveils itself.] If you are willing to be lived by it, you will see it everywhere, even in the most ordinary things.

Portions within [...] were not quoted in the comment though they form part of the original text. Lao Tzu is by far the only historic individual whom I shall ever consider to be a true teacher. There might be others but I don't know of them.

Writings on the Tao tend to stick a knife in their selves. By claiming that knowing the Tao cannot be described or constructed, they have made themselves open to ridicule, but Chunag Tzu would proclaim that state of being ridiculed to be a Taoist state. Let's not complicate things.

Parvati-ji responded as follows:

If I may intrude with a response to what you have said, here, Pingu,which essentially proclaims that all is the Divine, there is another quote from the Gita where the Supreme declares that the Divine on Earth is what is perfect. Perfection here, as clearly stated in all the verses starting from the 20th to the 40th verse of Chapter 10. Do read all of them starting from this link to later ones.
http://www.bhagavad-gita.org/Gita/verse-10-18.html -

To give just a glimpse,

" Of the Vedas, I am the Sama Veda, of the senses, I am the mind, of the commanders I am Kartikeya, of the reservoirs of water I am the ocean, of all the divine sages, I am Narad Muni, of lordly elephants, I am Airavatha, of humans the King, of all the animals I am the lion, of the birds, I am Garuda, of the swift I am the wind, of the wielders of weapons, I am Rama, of the flowing rivers, I am Ganga, of the poetic metres I am Gayathri, of the seasons I am spring, of the Pandavas I am Arjuna, of the sages I am Vyasadeva etc etc.

" Certainly wherever and whatever is majestic, beautiful or magnificent, you must certainly know that all these manifestations arise from but a fraction of My Glory."

# I suspect that there are two fundamental truths of spirituality,
one is what you have quoted from Lao Tzu as all is the one Divine Consciousness, and the other is that on Earth and in manifestation this Divine Consciousness is a constantly evolving perfection in time and in space, whereby a present state of 'imperfection' can be criticised or if not criticised or condemned, its inferior qualities as exhibited by its errors and ill consequences in rightness and fairness can be discarded and fairer means that lead to a better harmony, but in truth and rightness can be expounded.

1. All is the Divine. This is an essential fundamental truth and an absolute
2. All becomes the Divine in the most outward and external manifestation too. This is in time as a growth from a lesser way of being to a more enlightened way. God too becomes in matter and material life.

The second fact justifies every single thought, discussion, debate that elucidates more and more, better and better ways to actually enable the Divine that is everything to actually be seen thus in matter too.

If mentally I understand that all is the Divine, and hence keep silence or kill my soul when I see ugliness or unfairness, assuming that evil too is the divine, then I disable a chance for me and my context to be redeemed in a greater light.

# Maybe the fact that I see unfairness and want it to be mitigated or annulled is also the divine and hence justified...

# Sorry, Eroteme, about this too long a response, maybe repetitive too, in your space. But Pingu's comment evoked such a comment from me. Do bear with me...

No apology required, Parvati-ji.

To summarise, there is one perspective where everything is the Divine and another where somethings are the Divine (or tending to the Divine) and some not of the Divine. The latter notion is also the source of the God-Devil duality. In the grand scheme of things, perfection and imperfection are both necessary parts of the whole. What Pingu quoted states just that; what Parvati-ji clarifies is a response to "Ok! So what do I do with that idea that all is the Divine?" Her words are a response to an often reached conclusion "Since everything is ok, let me do anything and everything and then simply call it the Divine and get away with it."

The Tao resonates with me and hence the notion of good and evil seem illusory to me at times. But there are so many moments when I see the vile clearly and am repulsed and propelled into action, thought or reflection. The Tao is not against action. The Tao is not against anything. To be one with the Tao (a state which seems so impossibly near to be true) implies a clarity and a freedom from conflict. The Tao guides the sword as it does the wind.

The problem arises when the ignorant mind clings to the notion of "All is the Divine" and then suffers the daily travails of facing the "bad" things. We want to believe that everything is the Divine but what do we do with this wretched liar who just robbed me of all my life's savings? What do we do when the immoral politician has taken over my piece of land? What do we do when someone jumps the queue? How can all of that still be the Divine?

Here we need to visit our notion of the Divine (which Pingu has quoted and Paravati-ji has elaborated on). We still believe that the Divine is beautiful and only the beautiful can be the Divine. Perfection is considered to be the Divine while imperfection isn't (though the Zen notion of wabi-sabi looks at things differently). We seem to view that all things imperfect are not-yet-Divine and in the movement from imperfection to perfection there is a move towards Divinity. Even the Gita says so!

Who then created the imperfection that seems to be more abundant than perfection? Why? Then is there a creative force on par with the Divine force? And questions keep pouring forth once we go down that track eventually ending in a conclusion that the Divine "itself" has been incapable of creating a perfect world and has created a world full of imperfect entities which need to continuously move towards perfection, or the Divine! Many souls are comfortable with that notion because the "worldly" acts of tests, challenges, missions etc. resonate with that idea of separating an entity (at the outset) from its perfect state of being and then making it difficult for that entity to become perfect.

But notions are just that: convenient beliefs to provide solace or security. They are convenient because one needn't dig deep to understand the duality of the Divine and the non-Divine. One needn't have to face Truth, least of all, deal with it. Who has the time, especially when one is busy trying to get that promotion, or that apartment or something equally important? Who has the time or energy when juggling a million tasks and responsibilities?

So we often tend to take one of two sides: The Divine is beautiful and all things ugly aren't (yet) the Divine (and the common Japanese view of individuals born with physical disabilities is one such example) OR all is the Divine (like the various new age gurus and cults say though they essentially end up creating a following which believes that their guru or their God is the true Divine and the rest is all humbug). The first category face lesser questions (not because there are fewer question but because there are fewer people willing to think deep enough to ask questions) and the second category face the questions like the ones Parvati-ji hinted at: If everything is the Divine, then is raping someone also a Divine act? Hell! no.

Confusion arises in actions and events (that seem to be related to an action). People see something happen and aren't able to explain it. Be it rape or thievery or the IPL cricket matches, we aren't able to explain how someone can do something like this to another person. Hence, we either call them all evil or smile over clenched teeth and repeat endlessly that "All is the Divine".

Action which stems from clarity is different from action which stems from ignorance. In the latter case it is one's own pettiness which drives action. When there is clarity then the action to protect a child from a murderer is as effortless as breathing. Once in that state, action and thought are not different nor motive forces for the other. In that state, the Divine is not a goal but the Divine simply is. In that state, when one is one with the Tao, Pingu's quote is obvious and clear.

Since most of us are not in that state, we seek ideals and goals which we can work towards. Krishna's words jar in my head more than they create resonance. Such a tone is the root of all misunderstanding and ill-formed thought and action. A lay man will shun all assuming that only that which Krishna said He is, is worth looking at or possessing or coveting. In the hands of fools, threads of gold will either be sold for a view of the Sun or they will be futile ropes to tether cows. Krishna is talking to a rather confused person who in the middle of the battlefield is busy raising queries which takes people a life time to understand. Krishna is immensely crafty and knows exactly how he needs to deal with a gentleman like Mr. Arjuna Pandu. After having told him so much and clearly that there is nothing in this entire universe which doesn't stem from Him and doesn't return to Him, Arjuna still asks Him for the "glories" of Krishna. To me, Krishna's bit after that sounds like pure pep-talk. He eventually ends it with saying "Amongst the Pandavas I am Arjuna" which hopefully did the bit! At the end He still wonders (perhaps with frustration): What necessity is there for you, O Arjuna, of such detailed knowledge and so many examples? (When I have been telling you that) I support this entire universal manifestation situated in but a fraction of Myself.
To miss verses 2-5, 7 -11 (yup, all prime numbers) and only focus on verses 21-38 (though I love what He says about feminine graces in 34. I really wish I could ever meet a girl who had those!!) is presenting oneself in a manner no better than Mr. A P. To invoke the Divine grace for a pep-talk is rather shabby. Had Krishna told Arjuna that "Well, I am the Divine and am the cause for everything. I am you and Duryodhana. I am the cause of your birth and of this war" then I wouldn't be one bit surprised if Arjuna ran back to Kunti telling Krishna to fight it himself and end it also by himself. Arjuna needed to know that he had the Divine on his side and that he was part of a worthy cause. Neither did Arjuna know nor did Krishna care to tell that to fight was being one with the Tao, because the war was meant to happen. Krishna with all his claims also died an anonymous death at the hands of a hunter who mistook his heel to be a deer's face! Krishna didn't simply vanish into thin air (like Master Ugway did). He died the way he was supposed to. Krishna wasn't without conflict (he actually charged Bheeshma when Arjuna let loose excuses for arrows, only to be calmed by Arjuna who was a few days earlier calmed by Krishna). He was surely one with the Tao for most of his life on Earth. So one cannot and should not take Krishna's words out of context, the context being

If we leave Krishna and Arjuna alone, we need to still come to terms with the following questions:
  • Is it possible to stay without an awareness of what happens around us?
  • Once we are aware, is it possible to be without recognising it as good or bad?
  • Once we recognise something as good or bad, is it possible to not react?
  • If we react, is it possible to figure out whether it was meant to be or not?
I will leave the reader with these questions, because it is sometimes best to live with questions than have answers.

How else could I know?

Friday, August 07, 2009

Interesting, no?

I recall watching a program where a rather old gentleman won an award for the loudest snorer. It seems he snored as loud as a chopper bike's engine or something like that. None of this was interesting to me till the anchor mentioned that his wife was growing deaf due to the constant noise every night but the old man wasn't. Isn't it interesting that the same noise served to two individuals produces different effects on them perhaps due to the fact that one of them is causing it? It would be like a drummer playing his loudest music but only his neighbours growing deaf. So why does our body react thus? I am inclined to my view of life where most ailments and problems come about only due to resisting what happens rather than accepting things.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

I love you?

Things left unsaid...
Through the winter night
To a fading moon I ask:
Why did she think so?

Friday, July 31, 2009

When Things Get Irrational

Frankly, its not just at work but nearly everywhere that I am confronted with gross irrationality and this strip made me nod my head vigorous enough to watch it roll off towards my laptop!



Damn it!

Friday, July 24, 2009

Dark Delights

"What will it be tonight, my Aakah", she asked me in chaste Arabic.
Turkey, for me was the colour of her skin, alleys marked like her slender fingers, the pulsating domes curved liked her body with promises never uttered beyond the spell of her eyes. Turkey lived in my mind with the name of Yasmine; Yasmine who brought to me delights untold.
"Have I ever known what to ask, my love?"
She smiled through the veil and soft harp strings were plucked. Yasmine's is the world where singularity is an alien unless garbed as ecstasy.
"Would my Aakah prefer to sit down?"
With my will puppeted by her voice, I sank into the ostrich-feather couch. Like the reticent tear of happiness, she dropped with the rustle of silk to near my feet. She removed my shoes and placed them on hot lava stones while I shut my eyes. The walk of warmth up my body sang deep through the throb of my tired flesh. When I opened my eyes she was still at my feet but had produced a large shallow trough with special water (and how did she manage to not have a single ripple on it?). The candles swayed softly in the distant alcoves of her chamber, reflected by little mirrors appearing out of nowhere and rotating into a void. The floor danced to the long orange accompaniment of lamps housed in crevices in the wall and floor. One could walk on a flame and not be scorched while another step in a promising cooler corner might whisper an unexpected heat up your leg. Yasmine's world was not meant to be guessed.
With her hand supporting my heels she moved the stones aside and let my feet sink into the trough of ice cold shock. I lurched forward a bit and she immediately held me back with a firm hand.
"Aah, my Aakah is impatient?"
I leaned back with a smile. Her hand was still on my torso and she slowly let it move up to my collar bone.
"A tired day doesn't call for clothes, my lord", she said and with one deft snap removed the first button of my tunic from its eye.
"Or were you merely playing to entice your love?", and another.
"Could I ever forget the veins of my master?" Another
"Or are there new ones for me to play on the lute of my bosom?" Another was off and her palm rested flat on my navel.
"My ears do lust for new tunes, my Aakah." Another fell off obedient to the masterful flick of her wrist. She leaned over with her light breath falling on my earlobe.
"My whole body awaits your song."
I continued to feel that breath snake down my neck over my shoulder till I heard her voice from a distance.
"Would you prefer burgundy to black or red to emerald or ...?"
"Black"
The large candle she was facing glowed deeper with her smile and shook a wispy orange finger at me. She brought the silk scarf and extended it to me. I held it with both hands as she walked slowly to stand behind me.
"Black holds it all, my lord. All of it. The Gods created nights so that they could enjoy it all while we mortals groped around and fell asleep."
"Your world is not of mortals, is it?"
"Nor of the Gods, because their delights are written down in books."
She bent over, her long hair brushing my cheeks and the musk of her cleavage filling my being. While my body rose to meet that softness, the scarf was over my eyes and tied securely. Her feet whispered around me as she stood in front of me.
"What the eyes see is all the mind sees and hence, it is the Devil that leads man away from imagining, which is the seed of delight. Why do you need the Devil when you are with me, my lord!"
I smiled at her voice and she placed two finger on the scarf over the near corners of my eyes. Camphor? Whatever she had on her finger tips, seeped through the fabric and cooled my eyes and eased my entire being into a calm. While still holding the bridge of my nose her little finger traced the outline of my lips.
"How beautiful they are, my master! They spell lovely poems and tales and draw wet sagas along my breasts without uttering a word. One minute of sapping my breath with your verses and another of leaving me breathless."
My tongue oozed out to meet her finger, but there was none. She gently held the tips of my earlobes and said, "What's the hurry, when night such as these never end?"
She rustled to a distance and began playing her harp. I sat with a broad strip of nudity exposed to her with my hands lazily dangling on either side of the couch. As the tempo of her soft music increased, I felt something crawl up my shin.
"Don't move, master. For your own good. It wouldn't do well to be found dead in the house of Yasmine."
I stiffened as I felt something long curl up and crawl up my thigh. Its sheer weight told me what it was and it was then that I realised that the room was warmer than usual. It lazily moved up my chest and with every contraction of its body my hair stood taller around my neck. It casually moved up to my shoulder and I think it lifted its head. I felt a wet hair flick my earlobe before a long motionless hour seemed to elapse till the next movement. The chant of the candle flames grew loud in my ear and the harp strings sounded like from a previous birth. The scarf separated a worried and perspiring head holding a spinning mind within, from a stiff face which was thoughtless and entirely watching the being on my right shoulder. It gave one last Dark Delightslick to my earlobe before slowly slithering away. The candles grew less loud and harp seemed more present.
"The scent of the Yarabahi flower draws snakes to them but the taste of them is not interesting. So it is with any woman other than Yasmine."
She lifted my trembling hands and dipped them each in a jar of something which felt like soft wet flesh. I tried holding it between my fingers.
"Oh, you feel like pinching today?" and she laughed a tender cascading one.
Before I could say anything she rustled away.
"It wouldn't be fair if you are the only one naked, my lord."
I heard the soft sigh of clothes fall to the ground and felt every cell of my body alert and awaiting the next contact.
"Would you like to try this drink, my Aakah?"
She leaned over, resting her knee on the flesh of my thigh, and her breasts slowly grazing the hair on my chest.
"Na, na, na. No taking your hands out of the jars."
I let them sink into the gel which seemed to slowly move around my fingers and cool and warm them alternately. She placed a wet finger on the corner of my mouth. I licked the fluid. The sting arrowed to the roof of my head and I jerked and tried to shake off the shock. She kissed me on my forehead and placed another wet finger on the other corner. I was reluctant to try it now but it was seeping into my mouth. It was fruity and cool. I licked it all and her finger. She licked and smacked her finger.
"Now open your mouth, my lord"
I did finding it difficult to hold back a smile. She slowly poured a liquid which tasted different from the ones I tasted earlier, but a little of each was there too.
"Now pinch with the thumb in middle finger of your left hand and then with the thumb and ring finger of your right. Alternating."
I did as she told me, for who would not want to be led by the mistress of delight. As the liquid slowly fell into my mouth, each side of me gushed with a tingle as I released the pinching fingers. The liquid cooled in my mouth as it warmed down my throat. Yasmine slowly moved her hand and the liquid poured down my cheeks and chin, down the length of my body, pausing at my navel before moving further down. The throbs increased and I pinched vigorously. The marriage of the liquid, the warmth of the room, the gels in the jar, the nerves clenched with each pinch, my skin heating the wine as it rolled down and above all, Yasmine, yanked me from one high to another making me suddenly aware of each muscle and fibre of my being. The sweetness of the drink chimed in my tired chambers as I felt each drop of it sear my skin on its way down. As my breath grew shallower, I heard gentle flute notes waft around me. Yasmine was playing a tune which was vaguely familiar.
"Have you heard this before, my lord?"
"I... I think... I have."
She continued playing the tune and I could smell wild orchids. I leaned back with my hands out of the jars and my feet out of the trough. The liquid was drying on my front. The gentle notes soothed my heaving torso. I wasn't sure whether the smells of the flower were real or from the vague memories the tune evoked. She continued playing it while gentle faces rushed through my blackened mind; faces, mountains in the backdrop, tinkling laughter and children playing in the dirt, young women carrying pots of milk or river water, men working near large fires, soft yellow sunlight bouncing on every puddle and this tune from nowhere. People were busy selling their wares and having small market fights. Goats and chicken walked amidst them, occasionally startled at nothing in particular. Young boys grabbed their girls wrist and pulled them behind trees and resting carts. Elderly folks either shook their head or smiled in memory of days past. I was there watching all of this from above a huge haystack, writing in my notebook, when someone called out to me. I refused to acknowledge but the calls grew louder.
I know my bed without having to open my eyes. I smiled as the contours of my room drew themselves more clearly in my mind. She had managed to do it one more time.
"Come down, its already well into the morning."
"Coming."
I pull myself on my elbows and undo my tunic. She has left just a little of her drink on my chest. I scrape it and lick my finger. I spit it out in disgust. I look at my inner thigh and see the mark of a pressed knee. How did she let herself be so careless this time? I pull out my journal to recount what I can, but Yasmine did say that these were not to be written in books. But what use is delight when it cannot be one's trophy? What happens to a joy once it is put on one's window sill beside the rose bush? I put my journal back. Yasmine!

Friday, July 10, 2009

Sonnet 11 - A Lover's Wait

She'll come
I paint her name in wine on ebony
Glistening fluid ropes to draw her near.
Hundred nights passed since, and yet her journey
Will bring her to me, or so I adhere.

The sigh of the leather couch whispers fresh
Where she had simmering sat, knee on knee.
Impassive wooden edge kissed her breast's flesh
While full lips drew in a goblet's sherry.

It has been hundred nights, why wait, you say
Such a delight is but a night's mirage.
One night's fate would be futile Fortune's lay,
Sans one more from life's diurnal melange.

So wait I will, living on recall's fire,
Till Time shall yield to the tell of desire.

Convenient Dichotomies

I am often confused with a misogynist. It is as much a tragedy as my frequent association with being a misanthrope. I love women too much to ever hate them and I have immense faith in mankind (not human beings) to despise them. But fairness rules and my role of a paladin brings me brickbats. All in good cheer!

A recent trip with friends (mostly acquaintances) convinced me that women find it extremely convenient when guys fawn over them and will receive every act of subservient yielding, with gusto though quick to proudly claim that they don't ever seek favours from men. I am fortunate in being allowed the escape of a not-so-mute observer and thinker and hence am rarely called upon to perform the job of a lackey or to bestow condescending favours. The women in the group were delighted to have doors opened for them (innocuous) and bills picked (cheap) and luggage hauled (dainty) and errands run (too important) by the boys that I found the whole thing decreasingly obnoxious and increasingly amusing. The girls actually had the boys fetch their shoes from the shoe rack outside the temple. The boys had no sense of self-respect and were more than happy to be at the beck-and-call of their ladies. The ladies, without bothering to wonder whether they were taking advantage of the "niceness" of the boys, enjoyed their well-served existence. I imagined reversing roles: If girls were ordered around and tossed off when the job was done and made to run errands and taken "advantage" of because the guy knew that she had a crush on him, how would the "forward" thinking world look at it? They would call the men chauvinists, brutes, old-fashioned, conservative and few other things depending on their mood and mettle of their tongue. But these girls are just called cute (though amongst themselves some are bitches and some are desperate or more, again depending on the pH level of the tongue).

One thing that I never understand is the notion of footing bills. I pay when a woman accompanies me (tragedy lies in the fact that I even pay when some guys accompany me) and if I don't then I am cheap. If the girl was not earning a living or something like that, one might even consider that as a passable case (but then how do you explain the ready money available to her when she has to buy things for herself like trinkets to hang from her ear or that mobile which rings in so many tunes?). I find it immensely pointless that women who earn their income believe that they should never foot the bill. If the assumption is that their mere presence has paid for their share of the evening's expenses I can't laugh enough. I have rarely been with a girl who leaned over, slapped my hand off and took the bill (one girl was from West Bengal, the other lives in Bombay and one potentially solid girl now resides in Mysore). I always wondered whether they never felt cheap walking out of a restaurant without even offering to go dutch.

Pampering a girl is different. I think it is merely a special case of pampering someone you like (love is a convoluted topic). I pamper my nephew, my kid (I call her that because her parents call her my kid), my dear friends, a few wonderful women whom I have met (and they are genuinely few enough to count on one hand) and most children. My lovely friend who has been with me since we were 11 and 9 respectively, and who now is a father to lovely little girl, is someone I love to pamper. Pampering in these cases is not a stereotype and is hence, treated differently.

A dear friend of mine said, "Come on, E. Guys enjoy doing these things for girls. It is one of the small pleasures of life." I think he meant "small pleasure of the Mating Game". I had written a long article (and I am accused of never writing anything short!) about the Mating Game when I was in school. It is lost (because I wrote on loose sheets of paper) though you surely don't need an article to bring to light what is commonly available to an interested pair of eyes. I accommodate the Mating Game as an inevitable ritual performed at various levels (from Casanova to Seth Ganshyam Das of Tijoriwali Gali in Allahabad whose Mating Game starts and ends in a burp) but when it becomes a stereotype, graduating into a sense of etiquette and hardening as a norm of social life, then, my dear friend, it becomes annoying to my senses. I have lent my jacket to a girl (and I still have a picture of her) though I cogitate that I would have done the same for a frail framed guy, too. I have done things which clearly fell into the bucket of the MG (btw, that is not what M.G. Road in Bangalore, stands for) so the issue is not about the MG. It is about what groups of people are "expected" to do.

Recently, on a trip, I noticed how women (on the train) assume that they will be treated specially. They assume that someone will surely help them load their luggage or give them their chosen seat. A woman had actually occupied my seat and when I arrived told me to take the other one elsewhere because she wanted to sit with her family. Of course, if I don't mind. Point is, isn't it decency to stay in your seat and then ask instead of occupying first and then offering an option to me!? Even in queues (and once at a petrol station) women seem to assume that it is ok to rush ahead. A friend once told me "Come on, E. Try standing throughout the day on high heels and waiting in a queue!" What? Women were born with high heels? So if I wore riding boots with 3 inch heels, I will be allowed to the front of a queue?

There is no questioning that women are not often built for physically strenuous jobs and have to juggle (often, though not always) multiple roles and responsibilities. But these are individual choices. As much as a child cannot be delivered without the due gestation period so required is the necessary physical, mental and psychological abilities for a job. Dagny Taggart didn't use her womanhood to get the job done. It was sheer ability. I simply adore women who can do a job the way it should be done without acting cute and batting eyelashes. It is, hence, an individual's choice. If work in the quarry is not your cup of tea then don't go there. To join the quarry and insist that women should be given greater privileges and shorter work hours and lesser loads to lift is ridiculous. So be it with a job as a scientist in a lab. I will not give you the culture in my petri-dish just because you are 6 months pregnant (what is growing in the dish is at least my effort). If you can't juggle many things, choose. There are tonnes of women who give up a family for the sake of a career and conversely. There are men who also care for the family and buy the grocery and take out the garbage while putting the baby to sleep. Does the woman of the house get up to give him the only chair in the room?

So a woman likes to have doors opened for them and seats on buses offered to them but will not tolerate a man saying, "They are weak humans." They want men to be chivalrous while they cry sore about women's lib.

A woman will love to have her dinner paid for, and her movie tickets bought but will hate it if she were told that she needed his money or was dependent on his money.

A woman enjoys receiving gifts and baubles and surprises but will not accept that she can't even think of getting her guy some nice gift as a surprise. After all, "What can you get a guy? They are so boring!"

A woman likes to quote the traditional role of the male as protector and provider till he has expectations of her; then she quickly chants the virtue of the modern liberated man who doesn't hold old-fashioned notions of roles based on sex or creed. Equality is, then, something that makes sense only when it is in favour of one person.

Men are not to be pitied as long as they enjoy being fools. It is when women assume that men are there for doing their work or earning for their entertainment or free for their whims that the otherwise simple acts in a relationship appear vulgar. So be it when men make similar assumptions of women (though most men don't think that their wives earn for their entertainment, some think that their wife is entertainment!). At the risk of sounding repetitive, it is about a sense of Rightness. When there is respect for the other person, when there is a genuine affection for the other person, when there is respect for oneself, when one truly cares about the relationship and the various facets to it, there is action borne out of a genuine goodness and Rightness which doesn't crumble to petty convenient exploitation or, as a girl aptly said, "timepass". It would be such a delight to be with a woman who would take me out to dinner, too. Or help me pack my luggage or let a guy sleep on her shoulder or lap (has to be some other guy because I can never do that!). Or bought me a bottle of ink because I have just exhausted mine.


Samam

Monday, July 06, 2009

Rajasthani Miniature

"The skill is in highlighting each minute details and hence it is called miniature art", explained the tobacco chewing Madan Lal. He confessed to eating a heavy breakfast followed by nothing till late in the evening so that he could spend a lion's share of the waking day dedicated to his art. Learning Rajasthani miniature art from him was a pleasure. The weekend was spent in anecdotes about how he would create various details and how his ancestors have been involved in this art for centuries together. He told us of an elaborate painting that he sold in Delhi for over a lakh (but by then we were so much in awe of him that a lakh sounded like pocket change).

He was glad to have me in his class because I was the only guy! The coordinator of this workshop expressed her surprise about finding a guy sign up for a painting workshop ("only girls have signed up till today"). With great pride I cherish that moment when Madan Lal-ji thought that a particular piece of painting in a picture was done by him when actually I had done it. He kept insisting it was his work till the fine ladies in my group had to show him the canvas on which he had actually done it. That, was accolade enough for me! Pretty Bina, from Nagaland, added to my joys (in more ways than one) by proclaiming that my first piece was better than the sample artwork (which was up on sale in Madan Lal-ji's shop). I could have hugged her just for that but I had to keep telling myself that this is Madras! Having gone for this workshop without any expectation it was easier for the Master to mould me in the way he wanted and for me to emerge with great satisfaction and a sense of joy.

Rajasthani miniature is not something to be learnt in two days. Any claim to having mastered the technique in such a short duration is ridiculously stupid. Two days into this art form and I realise the great amount there is to still learn and master. I have become comfortable with only two techniques: flattened brush shading, jaali-work. We worked with delicate squirrel-hair brushes and my wrist and every tendon in my opisthenar cries in pain! Madan Lal-ji is available in Dakshina Chitra till 4th of Aug 2009. It would be worth your while to stop by and learn from him.

If I may bring to your notice, note the jaali (something like a mesh but supposedly made of fine silver threads or similar precious metal) bordering the elephant's howdah (blanket). One can actually see through it what lies beneath. The background colour is textured to give it a feel of mural (with chipping plaster, etc.). Rajasthani art (the way they draw their figures and objects) is not meant to be realistic (would an elephant really have such a bump on the forehead? Would its nails be collected in the front? etc.) but artistic-fantastic-realism. The human figures have elaborate eyes and lips but the women are mostly flat chested though the roundedness of the breasts is depicted. Clothing is transparent and that is a technique. I would share the other work in my possession which provides a sample of the detail work that can go into landscape, but it is incomplete and would add it to this blog once complete.


Rajasthani Miniature

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Bangalorism

Bang-a-lore has always provided a bang for my lore. This is one city which never ceases to shock me. Today I pick up the paper (Bang-a-lore Mirror) and what do I see? No, it is not in Kannada and that wouldn't have shocked me because it is rumoured that all programmers from Bangalore must code in Jave which is the Kannada version of Java. I saw a Bihari programmer being beaten up because he wrote "import java.lang.*" instead of "import java.lang.kannada". Biharis seem to be manufactured to be beaten up. 

So back to the BM: The front page carried the headlines "VAIKUNTA SAMARADHANE ON JULY 6". For those who aren't familiar with ceremonies, Vaikunta Samaradhane is the Kannada tourism package for a 11 day trip from Samarra to Vaikunta. This ceremony is planned for the great and late Michael Jackson. Man, I am going to miss him. Once he was all of Western pop music to me. To think his was the second song I sang on stage when I was 7 or 8 (the first being La-Isla Bonita). May the Gods keep his soul well and happy.

Back to BM again: The amazing Kannadigas plan to conduct the 13th day ceremony for MJ. For once they seemed to wake up in time but I wonder what's the point! Technically it would be a flawed thing to do and even if not technically inclined the man probably doesn't want to go to Vaikunta (he wouldn't want to do the twirl and toe stand or moonwalk on the ocean of milk in front of the reclining Lord).

Bangaloreans (and maybe not all of Karnataka) are quite a clueless bunch. Be it in food, sense of patriotism, current affairs or anything else, they are rather slow and hence, late. Let's study the psychological inclination (their incline is usually zero degrees).

I recall when Saddam H died and Indians said he would go to Vaikunta because it was Vaikunta Ekadasi. Point is, he didn't want to. He was Muslim. I don't know where that was missed on all the tour plans. I am sure Vishnu wouldn't have a hassle (though if the signboard on the gates was "Maam Ekam Sharanam Vraja" then we might have a problem). Bangalore woke up after 11 to 13 days and there were riots. An autorikshaw was burned (as an offering to appease the Gods and allow S H into devaloka) for sure (I saw it happen and had to tell my driver to rush from the spot and not peep outside the window!). All this after most of the newspapers had stopped running articles about him. 

Several years ago when BSNL had the notion of quarter, half and full rate for STD calls, I was in Bangalore visiting my cousins. I had to call my mom (who wasn't travelling with us) and decided to utilise the half rate (quarter rates require Bombay-like business drive) slot. Bangaloreans had mistaken half rate to mean the amount for which they can sleep and usually woke up by the end of that slot. Not a single shop would be open and I was told that they would open only by 10:00 hrs only to be shut for lunch and then opened again till they closed for sunset (which would have happened whether they closed or not)!! Being a Mumbaikar I would travel late but Bangalore buses (I was told) then shut service around 20:00 hrs! That is when I learnt that Bangaloreans were probably awake for the same number of hours that we folks slept and that was structured around their meals!

Some people blame this relentless lethargy on the climate, some on the Kannada script and most others on the way Bangalore is spelt (hence, the urgent move to spell it differently: Bang-a-loo-roo). I blame it on their sugar levels. Once upon a time, when God (or Chacha Nehru) was chiselling out India from a block of land, he decided to do draw Karnataka. He figured that these people are least likely to be creative as far as food goes, so he placed them in the midst of states which had their own cuisines (and far from the states which didn't want any damage done to their sarson ka saag and makki di roti). Then he gave them bags of sugar. Karnataka dishes are predominantly other state dishes with a scary amount of jaggery or sugar. Namma WhateverIt is like they are all half-blind and confuse sugar for salt or crushed jaggery for chilli powder (colour blind). They think they are being creative: Let's take an idly and do something with it... hmmm... let's add sugar. Let's take a bonda and do something with it... hmmm... let's call it Mysore bonda. And then they get confused with similar looking liquids: sambhar, kozhambu and rasam are all the same to them and true blue Kannadigas mix soup into their rice because, you guessed it, it is a brown liquid too. And then they create their own flavour by adding jaggery to it. So picture Kannadigas looking over their shoulder into your dubba and taking home your dish only to bring back the same thing the next day with sugar or jaggery in it calling it their own huli or gojju or saaru. Everything which is not a gojju is a huli until you dilute it and then it becomes a saaru. That is why Kannadigas never have Bengali friends. What more can you do to a rosagulla!?

Everything Bangalorean is Namma (if you are in Bangalore) and everything that is not work is a habba. Everything that is too much for you is sakath and if you are Kannadiga too, then you are maga. You can combine them in various forms and you know enough Kannada. Namma sakath habba, maga. Namma sakath maga. Maga, namma habba. Or the radio repeat: Sakath hot maga! It goes on. Another simple way to manage with Kannadigas is adding a "maadi" at the end of every English sentence. Sounds very Kannada to a lot of people.

Why do you need to learn Kannada? Because many people out here speak just that. Buses carry information in Kannada and all of them go to a place which resembles a poorly untangled jalebi. Karnataka ministers are striving hard to make everything Kannada. All government office forms are in Kannada so you basically have no clue whether you signed on your own certificate of death or marriage certificate (but does it matter?). 

Then we are left with the urge to be a part of everything: software, gay parades, software, beauty pageants, software, traffic congestion, software, pub culture, software, flooded roads because someone emptied a bucket of water, software, rising hemlines, software (no, no, not related to the rising hemlines), world cup matches, software, rock concerts, software and the IT industry. The movie industry is ultra-sad with all actresses top heavy and actors top-light. 

In summary, if you can "swalpa adjust maadi" then it is a fun place as long as you are not Bang-a-lored! No, lored is not a person.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Ballet - Yana Lewis Dance Company

Been so busy over the past couple of weeks, I can only manage a post like this (which is still good for those in Bangalore).

YLDC has a very interesting performance on 28th June 2009. It would be wise to keep your Sunday evening free for this.


Sunday, June 21, 2009

Clash of Intentions

The past week has seen me get rid of two horrible diseases (one less so) in my life though the laughable irony is that the diseases left my system with least effort from my side. Good health (literal and figurative) is indeed a joyous state of living.
The past few weeks/months have helped me confirm an old theory of mine: Problems are not unsolved because they are inherently impossible to solve but because people (involved in the problem) refuse to pursue/peruse/adopt solutions. So the problems, in themselves, are not intractable, but it is the people who do not care for the solution or do not wish to come up with a solution because it would require them to adjust a bit.
The past few weeks and months presented me (in a sudden rush of friendship) with several opportunities to observe this theory in action. Unfortunately, a few friends of mine were going through problems (some being marital) for which they were unable to find solutions. I love solving problems starting from unclogging drains (and this can be a tricky problem depending on what is clogging the drains) to handling excessive salt in a dish to wives and husbands unable to live together in a marriage. Somehow they all appear alike to my brain. I recall the time when back in college I was considered to be an Operating Systems guru/lover and I would tell my juniors that every problem of life can be solved by some algorithm that is found in popular operating systems and even fielded some standard problems (and then love was the most popular thing!!). One junior even asked me to apply any one algorithm to my life which was devoid of a love interest and I applied the theory of selective filtering, just that the filters were numerous or actually just one: A female me (and I haven't met anyone in my age band i.e. my age +/- 8 years, who resembled me more than 50%).
Anecdotes aside, I still believe that life's problems can be understood and resolved as one does understand and resolve problems in operating system design. Belief apart, I have proof too. My friends back in Pune had heard enough of those algorithms. There are some unfortunate applications of them too. Like creating a deadlock until one process relinquishes hold (for whatever reason) whereby the other process receives rights to proceed (with living a good life).
But the difference between OS problems and human problems is the clash of intentions. Processes and CPU registers do not have ulterior motives or ego hassles. The system assigns priorities and deadlines (e.g. in a real-time system) to them and they stick to them. The system has ways for bumping up priorities or lowering them (priority inheritance and inversion) and the processes comply because each process perhaps has an appreciation of the greater good of the system and faith in the Controller (in this case, the user). People and life's business have more issues and ulterior motives than good and clear intentions.Head butting
As an example, let me quote (and paraphrase) a discussion I had had with a rather wise and lovely friend of mine. We were discussing the issues in joint families (I was reading Madhur Jaffrey's Climbing the Mango Trees and love it) and she said, "If one brother earns Rs. 1000 and the other earns Rs. 50, though they might pool it together and let their father (head of the family) wisely decide on expenses for the entire family, there will always be the feeling that one deserves more than the other." This was an observation which didn't require assent or dissent. She then proceeded to pose a rather interesting perspective, "But, if the brother earning more left and established a separate household and his wife was not an earning member, he would give into all her demands although she contributes Rs. 0 to the wealth of the family. The disfavour that his brother earned for making less money although he too might have been equally useful in other ways (as his wife is) is not attributed to his wife who earns Rs. 0. The paradox is that one turns against one's own blood whereas one showers more on one who is not one's own blood and has had lesser association." Neither of us assumed that one's own blood warrants anything, but it is common human behaviour to be closer and more tolerant of one's own blood simply because there is a longer association. "Mother" and "father" might be an exception in this account of things. This is something that would not happen in the world of operating systems. If a process doesn't generate enough output and hence, is left suspended (given fewest CPU cycles) so would any other process which generates the same or lesser output.
Apart from the visceral repulsion of applying algorithms, statistics and differential algebra to human activities, there is no reason why they can't be. Marketing, for instance, is using these very tools to understand consumer (human) behaviour and position products accordingly. We'd, perhaps, stop buying Colgate toothpaste if someone told us that we are being plotted on a graph, along the X-axis! The whole world of robotics and androids is essentially that. An ego-based reaction is not sufficient basis for the lack of truth or applicability of something.
But more than the applicability of algorithms is the observation of (what I call) the clash of intentions. People who are not sufficiently involved or caring will not solve a problem as it is against their interest. A lady is willing to do anything for her child but not for her husband. A man is willing to do anything for professional success but not for his family. I am willing to do anything to get my lunch perfected but not for bungee-jumping!
Our clash of intentions creates problems which perhaps were never there. Two people might be comfortable with each other till one person tries to get things done her way over and above the relationship she has created with her friend. Here is where one thing becomes more important than another because we don't care about the latter or have taken it for granted. It is when that latter "thing" stirs and raises "its" preferences when a full-fledged problem is created. I have relatives who simply give into their wives' every demand. So the demand (which if placed over the relationship) is not the problem because the husband yields. If the husband found it incongruent or against his principles and takes a stance, even then it is not a problem. If the wife, on being made aware of the stance, refuses to budge then a problem is born. Since a lot of men would rather avoid a problem to taking a stance based on values or principles, a lot of marriages continue. Since a lot of women (though not the urban kinds) in India give in to their husbands' wants there is a lack of problems. Neither of them are solutions but the system is in a non-threatened state. The only solution is to have an aligned clarity and an understanding of what is good and Right. Anything other than that is either an escape or a postponement of a clash of intentions.
A recent conversation (and that will be another post) with a very dear friend and 2 of his team mates took us into the night (00:15 hrs) which is way beyond my sleep time (21:30-22:00 hrs). Here too we discussed issues with the work environment and professionalism per se. When I go over that conversation, I see the same thing emerge: clash of intentions. One person means well and guides others but the other person takes that for granted and is unprofessional because the guidance will perhaps not yield the kind of tangible benefits that s/he is used to receiving.
Hence, given that problems (amongst human beings) is nearly always a result of clash of intentions (I am not considering murderous humans and psychotic individuals), any attempt at solving such problems without resolving the clash of intentions would be implicitly futile and abortive. And the surest sign of a clash of intentions comes from the total lack of involvement and caring of the individual(s) (who are part of the problem) in resolving it. Tragic but common.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Unbridled Joy

Prancing in joy





Tethers of venom
Burn, writhing in Divine light.
See how he prances!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

What is Happiness? Understanding Happiness

I was about to start out writing: "As Aristotle said, " and realised that nearly everyone is tickling him in his grave (but then he was cremated, wasn't he?) when they start talking about happiness. Tonnes of people define happiness as this or that. Some try to measure it, some brush it off as incapable of measure. The gurus and priests define happiness as the complete surrender to this or that deity. A successful businessman calls it achieving ones ambitions. A sportsperson thinks it is winning races and setting records. A writer thinks it is winning the Nobel Prize and being featured in every list of the "Best Books for...". Artists are mostly narcissists so they will always want to get more. Then there are the feel-good guys who live off self-help books and cliches making statements like "being able to do something for someone and not expect something in return." Excuse me? How about loaning all your money to the slums of Bombay? No tax benefit! No citation! No mention in any newspaper! Forgotten and un-thanked! Yeah, right! And what if there is no one around you wanting your assistance? You'll never be happy? Aristotle had his views on happiness and so did Epicurus, but then, so does everybody.


Happiness, unlike calculus, doesn't require a foundation in order to be vivisected. Everyone in their first class of psychology has some answer to "What is happiness?" while everyone in their first class in operating systems has little to no appreciation of the LRU algorithm. We all think that we are entitled to an opinion about such a commonly existing facet of life. The problem lies in getting lost in the various forms of human response and the various states of being human which seem to confuse happiness with satisfaction, solace, adapting etc. Hence, the responses to "What is happiness?" which talk about achievement and attaining something are less about happiness and more about satisfaction and sense of worth.


Satisfaction is primarily an instance of stimulus-response. I see pizza, I want, I get and I am happy. There is always a want underlying the possibility of satisfaction. When the great monks of Mystic Mountain say that want (and its more determined cousin: desire) is the root of all unhappiness, they probably were being too strict, but there is a grain of truth. For instance, I want a lifetime membership to Mystic Mountain, but membership is not available in the manner we can understand so that leaves me anxious (or maybe not, because I am still trying to understand anxiety). Once I get it, I am satisfied or maybe not like the chef of a famous French restaurant who wanted to desperately get a Michelin star and slogged day and night but once he got it, he didn't feel the elation he thought he would because he started wondering "If I could get it then perhaps most others can too. Hence, this is not something worth seeking in the first place." Hence, my advice to people: Never say "The food was wonderful" to a French chef; always keep frowning in a French restaurant.


Here are two thoughts that I am going to elaborate on (and I am notorious for the elaboration bit):

  1. Happiness is that whole-bodied state of being which raises us to our higher Self through an experience or realisation which is timeless.
  2. Happiness is inversely proportional to the distance between our expectations and what life deals out to us.

The sharp-eyed reader would immediately note that these are two levels of what is conceived as happiness. Well, yes. (2) addresses what the unconscious man perceives as happiness and once he is conscious and fully aware (not just of himself) then there are no expectations and hence the distance becomes zero and therefore the possibility of a "whole-bodied state of being which raises us to our higher Self through an experience or realisation which is timeless" is higher.


I say "higher" and not permanent because the whole notion of always being in a state of happiness is, I think, an Utopian ideal which causes greatest unhappiness. As the human beings we are, we cannot always be happy (hence, Ugway was not a human being but a turtle). We shall soon evolve to understanding the notion of permanence in happiness.


In a later post, I will reflect on the question of "How can I be happy?". I will restrict my thoughts, in this post, to the understanding of happiness itself. Perhaps in that understanding the aforementioned question is laid redundant and pointless?


Momentary joy or convenience is like a puff of asthma medicine: it doesn't cure but provides a relief. Relief is an escape though not all escape is bad (like in the case of asthma). Psychological escape is nearly always shallow. Our inability to enter a state of happiness and joy is the reason why we need American Idol and drugs and Deepak Chopra. We fill our minutes with entertainment and intoxicants (of various kinds) because we do not know how to be happy. A person who is happy will not seek out entertainment. A person who is happy with himself or his family will not be club-hopping. So pleasures, entertainment, ephemeral joys etc. are not indicators of what makes one happy. They are indicators of what we employ to escape the need to recognise that we are unhappy.


People often believe that helping others, forgiving others, reaching out to others or as the quote at the outset said "being able to do something for someone and not expect something in return" are similar sources of "high"s. They aren't what make people happy. They are what make an individual satisfied or pleased with themselves. Why is it that no one recommends seeking help and donations as a source of happiness? Because it creates a sense of being at the mercy of others or being dependent on others. Hence, the opposite is better, viz. bringing other people to your mercy and generosity. To me these are parasitical entertainment: entertainment which requires the existence of a less privileged person whom I can shine on and implicitly establish that I am holier than thou.


Several people say that happiness is about having a good family, good health, good wealth and the like. The problem is in defining "good". No man is ever without a disease. No man has ever had a family where the wife has had no problems or the children, difficulties. Setting our expectations really low seems to be a trick solution but that assumes that we think we can trick Fate. Even if you do not believe in Fate, you have to accept that your definition of good which said "no uncommon illness" takes a massive beating when you are suddenly diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. There are no causes per se. You have nothing to blame. But you still have it in your pancreas.


Reconciling or seeing the silver lining is our response to the lack of fulfilment of our expectations. You wouldn't search for a silver lining in a silver bowl filled with diamonds! I think this simply keeps us comfortable in our state of having expectations and then tricking the "system" by finding alternate explanations with a smug grin which says "Gotcha! You can't make me unhappy!" This is the worst form of ignorance and stupidity and is frankly no different from the drugs people take. Damn! I failed my exams, let me sniff some dope, Aaaaah! feels so much better. I am happy. See? You can't make me unhappy! Hence, I hate the Chicken Soup Chronicles.


But we are human. We will always have expectations and wants and desires. Do you think we should all become robots wanting only to be charged occasionally and maybe given an extra jab of memory once in a while? Well, no! Unless you fancy moving around with jerks and swivels. I really loved those dance moves of several years ago with forearm going up followed by a bend at the hip and then back up and a twist and the next arm going up and... no, not the usual Sunny Deol dance routine!


Expectations spring from our sense of what should be. We are here and we should be there so let us get there. The expectation is to reach there. I earn $3000 a month - I think $10000 is a respectable number - I set expectations of earning $10000 someday. As one might note, such expectations keep shifting which motivational gurus call "setting the bar higher" and what I call chasing a moving truck's tail-light. Perhaps that is what makes a writer want to be popular, win awards, win international fame, the Nobel Prize, more fame, etc. This route implies that happiness is never attained as the place where you thought you would find it has now moved to Miami.


But isn't expectation the foundation of all progress? Isn't it the bedrock of all industry and technological advancement? If we recognise the difference between need and expectation we can brush off most of that. We need some way to preserve our food from decay, hence we invent the refrigerator and manufacture it on assembly lines: not expectation. Expectation is primarily a psychological driver.


Ok, then isn't personal growth the result of expectation? Isn't all individual advancement based on expectation? Should we drop expectations and stagnate where we are? Dropping expectations as a intellectual decision is bound to lead to stagnation. Not so if we understand how progress can be achieved without expectations. Here is where I would turn to Nature. No tree grew out of expectations, no beautiful cherry blossom became so out of expectation and no cat elegant from a pining to be so. Predators are not powerful because they expect to become so and preys are not alert because they expect to be so. Nature grows and progresses organically and effortlessly and that is a powerful foundation for growth. A man who can organically perfect his trade and develop it will grow too. Great poets have lived and walked this Earth without expecting to become poets. Emily Dickenson is one such example. I have personally known artists who simply enjoyed their art and "grew" in their own style.


It is when our sense of growth is derived from outside that our expectations morph into what others expect of us or of the ideal person as defined by others. To learn from the world is not inappropriate but to hitch our wagon to the motivations of the world is a definite recipe for being unhappy. The flip side is an adamance to refuse all rightness and goodness that should percolate into our bubble of focus and growth.


Which brings me to my buzzword of this year (and I think the rest of my life): Rightness. Happiness is essentially impossible in the life of a self which hasn't understood and realised Rightness. Let me create a life (in words) to understand how Rightness is vital.


A young man qualifies himself based on what he thinks the market wants. He gets himself a good job. He seems to be happy before he starts getting bored. He engages in his hobbies, going to movies and CCD with his friends. He hopes to get a girlfriend to fill the emptiness in his life. He decides to buy a car for convenience and as a symbol of growing. He switches jobs, moves cities, makes new friends, thinks he is in love and loves his new 42" plasma TV.


All the while he feels that he is happy before he realises that he is not and "something is missing". He joins the Art of Living course (and this is where I begin to avoid him) and thinks it is ok. He reads Deepak Chopra and other great gurus (and I am beginning to avoid him more). He talks to his friends and is fine when he seems to have achieved all that they have or more and is immediately disappointed when he learns that his junior in college is already married with a swanky pad in uptown Delhi (if there are such parts). He is still living on rent in a 1BHK (because living with other boys is not what people at his level of growth do). He meets people who seem to have found their perfect job. He reads about those guys who quit their PhD and became a mechanic or a guy who had a great job as a writer before leaving it all and going off to Japan (and also finding his love) and feels miserable for not having anything like that in his life. He meets an old friend who has a similar job and a decent wife and 2 playful kids and wonders why he didn't get that (hint: he didn't marry). He returns home and receives news about his bonus and is happy. He take a few friends out for dinner at the new Chinese restaurant and the meal is great. He calls home and his folks are happy and his mother suggests that they can now conduct his sister's marriage with some more style. He is happy and says "Of course, anything for Guddi." He is happy now and sleeps well.


A few days later he Skypes with a friend who tells him how much fun it is working in Vienna and how he should get out of stuffy India and explore the world. He opens his trunk full of pictures and news clippings of various places in the world and sighs deeply. He realises that he is bored with his work (as in, who wouldn't be entering data and filling out forms and conducting meetings?). He speaks to his sweetheart who sympathises with him and he feels better. He decides to apply abroad, does so and eventually reaches London where he has a similar job. The environment is different. He makes new friends, buys a lot of cool stuff (which you don't get back home) and is enjoying himself. After a few months, he misses home, is bored with his job, goes to pubs with his friends and comes back home to his wife (oh! yes, he is married now).


I could go on but it wouldn't help beyond this point. This is pretty much how life is for nearly 80-90% of people whom I have met. Some go on achieving whatever they plan for and everyone assumes they are hence, happier. Some don't and everyone assumes they are less happy.


Compare this to a guy who goes through the usual college and job days and one day realises that all that he has is a bunch of activities, some nice and pleasurable, some not so nice and not so pleasurable. So he sits down under a mango tree (because the chance of something nasty falling down from great heights is lesser and usually whatever falls is tasty) and puts things in front of him. He starts looking at his life and wonders what is he doing. What is his real self in all of this? What is it that makes him happy (or makes him think so)? What are the things that he cannot stand? He watches his entire life (so far) and looks deep within. As he grows And people still wonder what's happiness?familiar with himself, he recognises the truth of things and his actions. He recognises how much he let the outside world influence him and how much he avoided meeting his inner self. He is more comfortable with his individual self and is able to listen better. No, this is not something that can be done in 10 minutes of your lunch break. Once he is more comfortable with his self, he is guided by it and hence, proceeds on a life which is in tune with his entire being. As he lives this visceral truth he begins understanding the way of life itself and the illusory nature of wanting Happiness forever at all times. He starts recognising the inevitability of mishaps and annoying incidents. When someone cuts through the queue and buys a ticket out of turn he does get angry. When someone cheats in an exam and passes, he is annoyed. Over time he recognises it is unfairness and deception and cruelty and indecency that annoy him and not the individuals per se. When someone uproots his saplings and runs away he builds a better fence. He doesn't allow for such incidents to bother him for long. Gradually he faces the part of his self that is annoyed and disturbed by such incidents around him and understand what in him causes that reaction. He begins to connect more with the Divine and in the process is able to realise the wholeness of things. He is still doing work that he enjoys (be it by giving up his PhD or shifting to Japan). He is still connected to people of all kinds but he is no longer dependent on them and hence, their actions leave lesser imprint on his mind and life. When someone cheats him and gets away with it, he is able to see how this piece fits into the entirety of things and is able to act accordingly (lodge a complaint with the police or not bother). When he finds a job unsatisfactory he is able to realise it, drop it and accept another job which is in tune with his being (might be a mechanic's job or a writer's or a banker's). When he find a person poisonous he is aware as he is with an ingenuous person. In being like water, he is not cut by any sword.


People ask him whether he is happy and he says "I am" and they think he meant "I am happy". He probably meant "I, simply, am".


For it is impossible to be happy (as we commonly define it) for long. We keep altering that definition based on circumstances and knowledge. With such a shifting definition of happiness, it is impossible to realise it as a permanent fixture because it is in our frame of ignorance and inadequate knowledge.


The only way to be is either in ignorance or in union with the Tao. To others, being one with the Tao might mean being happy (though the cynical few might scoff and feel that such a man is without a car or delicious caviar or has never been to Vegas, which is true). The sage is neither happy nor unhappy as they are not qualities that exist in that realm. Ignorance breeds a sense of happiness or unhappiness and we might find means to escape from one for a long period of time. He can keep frowning all the time but still be one with the Tao and hence neither happy nor unhappy or both. He could well be smiling. He approves of nothing nor disapproves of anything because he is aware. He is useless and in that, he useful to the Tao. He tills the soil and takes the grain to the market. He doesn't cease to wash himself or his clothes. He eats his meals as per the needs of the body and not in need for an experience.


All this is fine you say (actually, I say) but we are not sages. We don't wish to be sages. We wish to enjoy the possibility of this world. Why shouldn't we? We wish to eat at the best restaurants and wear the finest threads and ensure that our money is not stolen. We do not wish to be paupers just to avoid being thieved. We do not wish to remain clerks in an office. We want to become officers and more because we are capable of it. We want to have children because we are virile.


But that is not what I say (though you say it). A sage is not one without experience and growth but one whose experience and growth stems from a source which is not a mere decision. In building his foundation on the Tao he is without reaction (which is creating expectations based on one's capabilities), whereas those who base their life on wants and desires will perhaps get it (and be satisfied) or not (and hence, feel dejected). He is in the flow of the Universe and hence has nothing to gain or lose. You, on the contrary, will have a lot to lose and gain and hence, be happy or sad in varying proportions. In standing up against Fate you have greater disappointments and agony. By walking with Fate, the sage has nothing to feel disappointed about. You have memories to recall when you were happy. He has none. You have moments in your life you wish you could wipe out. He has none. No, he doesn't have amnesia, too.


For everyone who is not a sage, happiness is a random occurrence. You might think that you are currently happy because you planned on all the things in your life which led to this happiness (you slogged in college, worked hard, invested wisely, bought conveniences which help make life simpler and so much more better) but the lack of any disruption during the course of your life is what makes your happiness random. There are thousands of people in the US today who can claim the same energy and effort but their wealth is all gone now. They aren't happy. There is no difference between their lives and yours except for the chance timing of misfortune. You might find happiness in walking along a lake or through the woods, but what happens when you return home? What happens when you return to work the next day? What happens when your child meets with an accident? As long as happiness is the absence of misfortune and mishaps, so long it will continue to be a random occurence. The minute one is comfortable with that, a search for happiness is futile in its intent. One can only look inwards and that would (possibly) lead you to becoming a sage which you are not interested in.


Hence, happiness boils down to the prolonged recurrence of convenient events and incidents, not requiring us to face challenges which do not give us a high or sense of achievement, not to mention the absence of misfortune and mishaps. To some it is good family, good health and good wealth (convenience), to some it is leading organisations to making more profit(convenience + achievement), to some it is building a railroad system (yes, I am referring to you Ms. Taggart). Given that it is so random, pinning our entire purpose of being on it seems wasteful. Still we do.


Even for those who wish to remain non-sages, the answer to the question of "What is happiness?" is personal and hence, has to be framed based on one's own wants and desires. In order to make that longer lasting, those wants and desires would need to be based on a better understanding of our motive forces which requires introspection and a deeper understanding of oneself.


How, then, can one expect a generic answer (except for the one I gave in the previous paragraphy which sounds cynical)? Still, we ask ourselves that and we discuss it with others. We would like to be happy now and not in 30 years from now. We want to check-in to great hotels and buy tickets to that rock concert (seriously? And you still wonder why you aren't happy?). We still want to be rich and famous. Honestly, so do I. Well, all the best.