Of cabbages and kings

There are many things on my mind, some serious and some not so serious.  I wish I could write about all of them.  But that is a near impossibility for two reasons.  The sheer effort required is one.  Equally I am often assaulted by this gnawing feeling of the lack of utility of this effort.

On a more serious side I have been more busy than I would have liked.  That gives me a lot of serious stuff to write about.  But I do not wish to even list out all of them, let alone write about them.  After I catalogued my numerous activities in Coimbatore in an earlier post I felt silly.  I shall not repeat that mistake this time.

There are many more others that I wish to write about, mostly inane matters.  Such as this award winning Mallu movie I watched about a wealthy quadriplegic, Beautiful, where the main protagonist makes some powerful statements that go straight to your heart.  Such as what he thinks about the shallowness of the sympathies of people, which he does not look for anyways.  Or his controversial remarks about the sheer beauty of relationships outside of and beyond matrimony, which have a ring of authenticity if only one would be willing to set aside one's prudish instincts.

I must quickly add that I realize that this is the second time in less than two weeks, in quick succession, I come back to the question of morality and infidelity.  I must just as much dispel any suspicion that I am perhaps convincing myself that it is all OK to indulge in a few extra marital peccadilloes. 

Truth be told I don't need any convincing.  That said, I do not have any plans to go about painting the town red.  The good thing about such affairs is that it takes two to tango.  And that as Lakshmi reminds my friends often is the best insurance against any likely endeavor of mine to drift from the straight and narrow.  My own footloose proclivities pale into insignificance in comparison to my inability to kindle any woman's fancy, let alone set her passion on fire.

Back to the movie, I wish I could write more about it.  There is quite a lot there - soothing, highly refined music, a thesis on human diabolism, beautiful settings, the triumph of the spirit over the body and so on. 

I wish I could write about my more recent excursions into the bands of Kerala, as I plodded for an insane number of hours plugging away on countless numbers of email messages during the past fortnight.  So much so I often worried I might go off the deep end, to use an Americanism that I like for the allegoric metaphor that it is.

But then does it really matter to any one at all that I wrote or that I did not? Would I myself care about any of these after a few days?  In any event I am not sure that those read it would even relate or connect to what I have to talk about.

It is as I wrestled with this dilemma that I came across this piece by Orwell. 
http://orwell.ru/library/essays/wiw/english/e_wiw

Apart from assuring me that the greatest writers did seem to have gone through an existential angst it did not help me resolve my dilemma.  Yet I present that piece here partly as recompense to you for having plodded through my post.  I am sure you will be glad you read Orwell's essay.

And equally I think you might enjoy this piece on Premchand where I found the reference to the Orwell essay above. http://www.thehindu.com/books/literary-review/hari-narayan-on-munshi-premchands-essays/article7485165.ece

While I had enjoyed reading a translation of Sevasadan some time back I had not quite realized the kind of social force that Premchand seems to have been according to this author, although I found the sheer range of social issues in that novel bewildering for one single novel to play on.  The closest I could connect to Premchand were those Russian authors, Gorky, Turgenev and Pushkin in particular, whose works were a tour de force on Russian society.

Back to my dilemma, I guess I need to come to terms with this internal conflict.  As long as I sit up for crazy hours I am sure to be haunted by the sense of loss that has come to be my constant companion for some time now.  I just cannot seem to escape from its vice like grip on my soul.  And writing these posts is one way to keep those ghosts at bay, without letting my fragile sanity be shattered seriously. 

And that I guess will be the reason I will continue to write - even though I realize it is many precious man hours of good time going down the tube.

Nanni.....Namaskaaram...

A Random One

This is a truly random one, unlike my other posts which have been triggered by something incident or emotion or the other.

It is a beautiful Monday morning as I step in to my office, earlier than I normally do.  The cool air is mostly still, due possibly to the moisture that yesterday's rains have left behind, like some residue that they did not manage to shed in the time that it was here.

It was wet and rainy most of yesterday.  The breeze is very light as it seems to make no headway against the humidity that seems to push it back like a thick wall. 

Shards of sunlight stream in through the gauze-like mosquito net shielding my window, into my office, that is set a yard or so below the road beside which I sit. They make strange but beautiful patterns on my light English coloured wooden desk as they try to cut through thin blade like leaves of the plants outside my window.  The top of my desk looks like the back plane of a kaleidoscope in continuous motion.

The whole place has a serene quiet to it, as my colleagues must still be gnashing their teeth or simply sitting back in resigned stoicism in their cars, as they navigate the dystopian traffic of Bangalore.  But I know that very soon it will cease to be so, as we all busy ourselves with the action for the day or the week. 

I wonder if we all know why do what we do.  Ironically, ss the man who is supposed to lead them I am not sure I do.

I do not know what the day will be like, much less the week.  But whatever it is going to be I will cherish this moment of soothing tranquil.  Thank You God...for this moment.

Nanni....Namaskaaram.. 

Back to Basics

Ours was a strange relationship.  We were drawn to each other; but I am not sure it was in an amorous way.

She is truly brilliant.  Her ability to come up with the just right words and the right number of them and then pepper them with bits of apt poetry and prose all the way from Chaucer to Charles Dickens and more contemporary writers would make me read her numerous, long letters to me over and over again. 

Each one of them was a literary masterpiece, penned meticulously in good old long hand. There was nary a scratch anywhere, indicating a mind that seemed to have neither doubt nor hesitation about what the gold medalist student of Literature from Calcutta University had to say.

They dealt with many issues of day to day existence that would engage the mind of a twenty one year old endowed with a superior intellect and a heart in the right place.

It was purely my stupidity that blinded me from anticipating that the owner of this extraordinary faculty would one day be bold enough to elope with a student maoist who was believed to have gone underground during the emergency in a bomb manufacturing case.

As I watched the movie Kahaani this Saturday I was taken back to the many moments of my life, many decades ago, when I used to visualize myself on the parks and streets of Calcutta.  Of the many debates we had through long letters thanks to  telephony that was not affordable.  And oh yes we must have met three times in all our lives.  Of my refusal to join IIMB so I may stay back and try once more my luck at going to IIMC until my Dad put his foot down.

One of our favourite topics was morality in personal life.  We returned to it very often.  We quibbled a lot on the semantics of morality.  Was morality violated by thought?  If it took an action to be immoral how intimate did the act have to be to deserve disapproval?

Would that then not mean that most of us would have been immoral when we tolerated an improper touch that occurred involuntarily and deep down in our minds we may have secretly been happy that the touch did happen at all?  Was I being immoral when I first shook hands with another seriously endowed orator, MSR of Stella Maris at Madras, and could not help admiring the sheer tender softness of her palm? 

At the other extreme was the Russell view that I write about in a different and somewhat provocative blog:  http://sgchalayil.blogspot.in/2013/02/multiple-roles-and-monogamy.html

We used to be amused by the frequency with which we revisited the topic.  I would wonder what was it that we were obsessed with - the right side of morality? Or, the dark?.

As I saw the yellow taxis, the rumbling old buses on the streets of the City of Joy and the decrepit buildings that reminded me of hobbling old humans who had successfully defied Destiny's lasso I was reminded of the many debates between MG and me thanks to Indian Posts.  I recalled her petite doll-like face and form which was in itself enough reason to be madly in love.

I would like to refer that as long-distance romance - but for the doubt in my mind if it indeed was such an affair of the heart.  I guess it does not really matter. 

Watching Mrs Bagchi (played by Vidya Balan) waddling through the thoroughfares of that city that never ceases to intrigue me, I smiled within myself at those many moments of happiness that I had enjoyed reading and re-reading those letters that I had carefully preserved - until one Saturday morning I burned all of them, with the last of them that had borne me the tidings of the elopement and one black and white photograph that had remained among my books for reasons I never quite understood.

I guess the best feelings in one's life are the ones that one can never explain or understand.  One simply savours them while they last till one is engulfed by the pain of their loss.

I should know.  I have been afflicted not once, but twice, although in very different ways on the two occasions.

As I devoured countless numbers of Lakshmi's inimitable onion pakodas and trade mark coffee and recalled my past, such as it had been with MG, I asked myself again:  Was I being immoral to relive some of those moments in my mind, even if involuntarily?

Nanni....Namaskaaram... 

A Monologue with the Boss

Hiya Boss:

Your ways are indeed inscrutable.  I say that even though I know it is a cliché.  How does it matter if it is one, if that is the best way to describe your way of functioning.

After casting about purposelessly for the most part of my life you put me through a crucible of trials.
  
I have no doubt that you helped me come out of it, unscathed largely but substantially chastened.  You taught me the need for and purpose of prayer in the form of the beautiful saying by the Divine Mother Sharada of Belur that you led me to:  The laws of Karma are immutable; but prayer helps moderate its pain, even ameliorate.

Stumbling upon that saying, which was a landmark event of sorts, my rational side says was chance.  But then you exposed me to this beautiful line in Kung Fu Panda:  There are no accidents in life.  Everything happens for a reason. And you make me realise that you are often that reason.

For many years now it was almost as if you had been preparing me for looking up to you when I would need you. You started by settling me down in the new life of a teacher, a part that I would never have imagined I would play one day.  Or rather I would never have thought you would make me play.

But then who am I to think or imagine. You say are antaryaami - the inner dweller in everyone's thoughts.  

You made me choose a path that many among my friends thought was incomprehensible if not stupid.   From being a high-flying and obscenely paid private equity fund manager, whose business card many entrepreneurs and managers would seek out - the world at large informs me that is how I was looked upon - you turned me into a neophyte academic struggling to establish himself, a Tier II member of the academic clergy, which I have remained ever since.

You made me come to terms with the social realities of the new life where the phones had stopped ringing, as some American movie dialogue once described the quiet that descends upon a man who had ceased to be a corporate executive.

As I struggled in the years that followed to build an academic career and a family at the same time, you appeared in my dream one night.  All that I could think of asking you was to keep me on the straight and narrow.  You assured me that I would remain so.

And then in a wonder of wonders, in the years that followed, as you put me through the wringer of the emotions of a parent that you seemed to have been preparing me for, watching his children struggling to grow, you made me resort to the most unspeakable acts.

Acts that I will never be able to speak about more because of the hurt that they might cause to people who love me unconditionally and less so for fear of social censure.  Acts that shall be known only to me and my accomplices till they and I all leave this world.

I have been far from a paragon of virtues.  But why did I embark on those paths at a time when I needed to be more on the straight and narrow than ever before?  How do I square between my indulging in those sins that I did and your assurance?

And if that was not enough through these years since you assured me of remaining on the straight and narrow you have made me lose that yearning to have you ensconced in my thoughts all the time and forever.

You seem to have taken back that desire in me to maintain a clinical relationship with all people and phenomena in my life.  You have deprived me of the sense of detachment that you taught your favourite protege Arjuna in the most emotionally charged and engaging setting that any teacher of life skills could ever choose:  A battlefield where he had to slay or sacrifice those of his own blood in the name of a warrior's Duty.

In these recent years you got me all caught up in the world of doing with a sense of doer-ship that you tell Arjuna is meaningless, when you inform him that all those relatives that he is going to fell down have all been slain by you already.

You have filled my mind with childish excitement about mundane nothings that perhaps are of little consequence even in the material world, let alone in the world of spiritual pursuits.  You make me lose myself in a grand delusion of being engaged in something consequential in those many hours that I spend in what are mere acts of shallow commerce! 

You made me come out of the shell that I had built around me and my family and make room for a helpless fawn as if I was King Bharata on the banks of the river on that fateful day, while it appears there was neither the poor creature nor the swirling waters engulfing it in a lethal sweep.

In the event you changed my world forever.  Like a smooth seducer, who tempts you into folly and then extracts a price for it, you made me pay for my misplaced affinities.

You put me through suffering of the kind and intensity that I had not experienced in my fairly long life by then.  You made me taste a heaviness of heart that had been hitherto unknown to me.

In short you seem to have transplanted me into a world that resembled little of what you had been dangling in front of me in the years before.  I have been like the grain that gets ground between the stones of a grinder that Kabir compared the suffering human soul to.

And then out of the blue, you brought back that yearning, however evanescently, this last Sunday.  You reappeared in my thoughts during the Bhajans, like a hugh wave of longing, that washed me back to the shores of thinking of you.

Will you have me washed back to the ocean of worldly pursuits and desires that I was hoping to come away from?  A world drowned in the sense of doer-ship that is at the root of all human pain, you say?

And here is one final question:  If I am none other than you should I have called it a soliloquy rather than a monologue?

Only you know...after all you are the Boss!

Nanni....Namaskaaram.

PS:  I felt persuaded to write this piece after our regular bhajans this last Sunday.  There was one side of me which said I was being an exhibitionist about what I believe may be my spiritual inclination. There was another side that made me strongly desirous of writing down these thoughts, at least so I may be able to recall my own thoughts and feelings on another day.

You would be right in arguing that I could have achieved that by just writing a little note to myself and not a blog post. But then that is how the blog started - a place where I store my intimate thoughts.

That said, it is exhibitionism, even if on a limited scale.  I beseech your indulgence. 

A week when two great men visited the campus

This week was important because of two great people who visited the campus - Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and Shri Anna Hazare. It is difficult to explain why these are great people. There are so many dimensions to their greatness that it is not easy to capture that in a brief analysis
Personally I am grateful to Sri Sri for a reason that many may consider trivial - his schools that my sons attend. These schools are a sharp contrast to the average Indian school which seems to remind me of miserable hellholes. Unlike the average school the teachers in Sri Sri's schools live a motto that I saw on the first day that we went there looking for admission. It goes somewjhat like this: Teaching is a vocation of love. If you are incapable of loving you should not be a teacher.

That motto touched me. I wish I could live by that motto as much as the teachers at Sri Sri do.

Interestingly Sri Sri touched upon an important secular issue too: Corruption. His closing line was a call to the youth of the country: Spiritualise politics, socialise business and secularise religion. I do not know if anyone else has said that before. No matter whether it is Sri Sri's impromptu line or not, it is worth the while of every young Indian to tattoo that on his forehead, to borrow an expression from a popular finance text book.

That brings me to that other great man to visit the campus this week: Anna Hazare. I am intrigued by Annaji's ability to pull in such a massive support to his most recent struggle. And here is an interesting problem for hair splittign academics: What explains that crowd at Jantar and the spontaneous chorus of support? Is it the appeal of the cause? Or Annaji's charisma? Quite possibly it is a bit of both.

At the end of the day it does not matter. What I hope and pray for is that Annaji and his crusaders win at the end of the day. Sitting in that hall and reflecting on the events of the weeks and months leading to Annaji's fast one was reminded of all that one reads about the freedom struggle. The curse of corruption is perhaps no less disgusting and debilitating than foreign rule. It is perhaps even more so because it so reminiscent of the battle of Kurukshetra - a struggle between Dharma and Adharma. A struggle for justice from an aggrandising horde made up of one's own. A struggle that has been necessitated by a compulsion where the aggrandisers refuse to share the equivalent of even five villages with the rest of the country due to its limitless greed. If left unchecked it would appear that the masses would not even get land to stick a needle into!

Presentations made, questions raised, solidaroty expressed, the aloo bonda and tea savoured, as I walked back to my home the cynical side of me reared its irrepressible head. All movements take place within the context of history. Gandhi's victory against the Brits was a product of history. It is easy to see that the forces of history that enabled the Mahatma's fragile sloop to the shores of independence are missing today.

Most important to my mind is the social aspirations of the nation at large today. Central to those aspirations are the craving to achieve a great amount of wealth quickly. That craving pervades all walks of life - industry, all the professions, public service and even the portals of the Divine. Physical proximity to the Lord and the speed with which you can get there depend upon the value of the currency wad you can brandish in front of His doorkeepers. I am quite sur to And drivi that very soon darsan spots of the various popular temples will soon be auctioned on eBay - the modern Mecca of pricing efficiency. (If that is a novel idea is there some way I can claim a small fee in return for the efficiency gains?)

Money enjoys an important place in our social life. It does not matter how you got it - as long as you have enough of it to launder away the dirt that you accumulate with the money.

Do not get me wrong. I am not against wealth in our society. I feel happy when I see the confidence of our youth, in sharp contrast to the cringing deference of my generation and that of my forefathers. I feel happy when I see international brands compete for a share of the ever growing wallet of the Indian consumer. I am glad to see the the swelling crowds at the new epicentres of Indian consumerism - the numerous malls - and young Indians splurging with no care about the rainy day that seemed to weigh people of my generation down.

But in all of this I wish money was not so important that it did not come in the way of rule of law, if not in the way of human values. I wish policemne would not let off sedans violating every driving and parking rule while harassing the helpless autodriver or two wheeler commuter. I wish steetvendors who earn less than minimum wages are not routinely harassed by the police while big businesses flout many a rule with impunity with the feeling of security that their wealth provides.

So at the end of that peroration here is my worry: In a world where money plays such a large part in our daily lives will Annaji win this crusade? Will we all rush to fill jails as he exhorts us, leaving aside the our chase of quick and ever-growing wealth? Is history on his side as it as on the Mahatma's? Or, will he be left with a Pyrrhic victory, if he has one, trudging up the hills all alone like Yudhishthira in the Shanti parva, deserted even by his canine escort?

I pray that once more the Lord lives up to His promise: Yada yada hi...abhyutthaanam adharmasya, tadaamanam srujaamyaham - whenever non righteousness rises I will manifest Myself.

What form, if any, will the Lord take this time I wonder!

Ministerial Musings

I have always been a great admirer of Minister Ramesh, even though I realise it should not matter one bit to him what I think of him. I admire the fact that he got through successfully one of the more academically challenging institutions of India, IIT Bombay. As if that was not enough he went on to prove his mettle at GSB Stanford of the Snapshots from Hell fame. His wit is sparkling. His nationalist sentiments are beyond reproach, in site of his occasional remarks in places like China. And above all he earned his political spurs working under a boss who despite his flawed statemanship, is reputed to be a demanding taskmaster. To say that he is not a man of straw would be a ridiculous understatement.

I also do not want to take the Minister on the correctness of his views. That is a fight you cannot win. However good we academicinas might think we are there is always scope for improvement on some dimension that will bear the Minister right. Honesty demands that we admit that may be the Minister's remarks require us to sit back and ask if we can really take umbrage at his remarks.

Why would Minister Ramesh then stir a hornet's nest in an atmosphere that many academics seem to think has been vitiated by the recent administrative goings-on beats me. Minister Ramesh is no stranger to controversy although as a political understudy he was known for his astute silence. There are only two possible reasons. He is either being possibly naive and reckless. Or it is a carefully orchestrated strategy. From what I have observed of the man I would go with the latter theory. What that strategy is something that I would leave to those men and women in Delhi who spend a lifetime tracking the likes of Minister Ramesh to figure out.

That said there are a few questions that occur to my mind as I reflect on what to me at the end of the day is a non-issue. A little later why I think it is a non issue. How many times has the Minister visited his alma mater since he graduated? In the world where there are schools of excellence that wow the Minister with their accomplishments it is customary for successful and well placed alumni to give back. But for generous alumni I wonder where Stanford might be today. Second, given his incisive mind, has the Minister consulted any material for facts that allow him to go beyond mere impressions in forming an opinion? If he has done so what do those materials tell him about why these institutions are what they are today? Finally, having realised as indeed he seems to have how poorly these instituions are faring does he have any plans for redeeming these institutions out of their current state.

A week when two great men visited the campus

This week was important because of two great people who visited the campus - Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and Shri Anna Hazare. It is difficult to explain why these are great people. There are so many dimensions to their greatness that it is not easy to capture that in a brief narrative. But if you stand in their presence there is some magnetism about both of them that makes you feel that there is something about them that is extra-ordinary. At least it makes me feel so. And let me assure you that I am an unapologetic cynic.

Personally I am grateful to Sri Sri for a reason that many may consider trivial - his schools that my sons attend. These schools are a sharp contrast to the average Indian school which seems to remind me of miserable hellholes. Unlike in the average school the teachers in Sri Sri's schools live a motto that I saw on the front wall of the school on the first day that we went there looking for admission. It goes somewhat like this: Teaching is a vocation of love. If you are incapable of loving you should not be a teacher.

That motto touched me. I wish I could live by that motto as much as the teachers at Sri Sri do.

Interestingly, in his session at IIMB, Sri Sri touched upon an important secular issue too: Corruption. His closing line was a call to the youth of the country: Spiritualise politics, socialise business and secularise religion. I do not know if anyone else has said that before. No matter whether it is Sri Sri's impromptu line or not, it is worth the while of every young Indian to tattoo that on his forehead, to borrow an expression from a popular finance text book.

That brings me to that other great man to visit the campus this week: Anna Hazare. I am intrigued by Annaji's ability to pull in such a massive support to his most recent struggle. And here is an interesting problem for hair splitting academics: What explains that crowd at Jantar and the spontaneous chorus of support? Is it the appeal of the cause? Or Annaji's charisma? Quite possibly it is a bit of both.

At the end of the day it does not matter. What I hope and pray for is that Annaji and his crusaders win at the end of the day. Sitting in that hall and reflecting on the events of the weeks and months leading to Annaji's fast one was reminded of all that one reads about the freedom struggle. The curse of corruption is perhaps no less disgusting and debilitating than foreign rule. It is perhaps even more so because it so reminiscent of the battle of Kurukshetra - an internecine fight that symbolises the struggle between Dharma and Adharma. A struggle for justice from an aggrandising horde made up of one's own. A struggle that has been necessitated by a compulsion where the aggrandisers refuse to share the equivalent of even five villages with the rest of the country due to their limitless greed. If left unchecked it would appear that the masses would not even get the equivalent of te proverbial land to stick a needle into that the Kauravas refused the Pandavas! Instead the loot will continue to put all of Hosni Mubarak, Muammar Gadhafi and every other plundering dictator known to history, taken together, look like a band of angels!

Presentations made, questions raised, solidarity with the struggle expressed, the aloo bonda and tea savoured, as I walked back to my home the cynical side of me reared its irrepressible head. All movements take place within the context of history. Gandhi's victory against the Brits was a product of history. Those forces of history that powered the Mahatma's fragile sloop to the shores of independence are missing today.

To my mind, the most critical difference between the context of the freedom and that of Annaji's fight against corruption is the social aspirations of the nation at large today. Central to those aspirations are the craving to achieve a great amount of wealth quickly. That craving pervades all walks of life - industry, all the professions, public service and even the portals of the Divine. Physical proximity to the Lord and the speed with which you can get there depend upon the value of the currency wad you can brandish in front of His doorkeepers. So much so I am quite sure that very soon darsan spots of the various popular temples will soon be auctioned on eBay - the modern Mecca of pricing efficiency. (If that is a novel idea is there some way I can claim a small fee in return for the efficiency gains?)

So here is the new tag line for the Indian society: The business of India is getting rich ASAP.

Money enjoys an important place in our social life. It does not matter how you got it - as long as you have enough of it to launder away the dirt that you accumulate with the money.

Do not get me wrong. I am not against wealth in our society. I feel happy when I see the confidence of our youth, in sharp contrast to the cringing deference of my generation and that of my forefathers. That comes from economic security of a level that I could not even dream of at their age. I feel happy when I see international brands compete for a share of the ever growing wallet of the Indian consumer. I am glad to see the the swelling crowds at the new epicentres of Indian consumerism - the numerous malls - and young Indians splurging with no care about the rainy day that seemed to weigh down people of my generation.

But in all of this I wish money was not so important that it did not come in the way of rule of law, if not in the way of human values. I wish policemne would not let off sedans violating every driving and parking rule while harassing the helpless autodriver or two wheeler commuter. I wish small time vendors on the street who earn less than minimum wages are not routinely harassed by the police while big businesses flout many a rule with impunity, secure with the protection that their wealth provides.

So at the end of that peroration here is my worry: In a world where money plays such a large part in our daily lives will Annaji win this crusade? Will we all rush to fill jails as he exhorts us, leaving aside our chase of quick and ever-growing wealth? Is history on his side as it was on the Mahatma's? Or, will he be left with a Pyrrhic victory, if he has one, trudging up the hills all alone like Yudhishthira in the Shanti parva, deserted even by his canine escort?

Just for once more I pray that the Lord lives up to His promise: Yada yada hi...abhyutthaanam adharmasya, tadaamanam srujaamyaham - whenever non righteousness rises I will manifest Myself.

What form, if any, will that Lord take I wonder!