Ideas are Immortal

The only thing that I repent of all my childhood, and that I could have averted is that I did not read – read books!
The only thing, now, when I am able to earn and it makes me happy about it is that I can buy books – loads of books!

I started reading late, really late. The dusk years of my teenage is when I started reading. In effect then, I have wasted at the least ten years of my life without reading, and that is a big lacuna, which I am trying to compensate ever since I late-started, by reading and also by scribbling my own words and daring it enough to call it as writing.

The reading I speak of in this post is not the newspapers, magazines or academic books – those of course I have been doing, but of the books which are tunnels into the minds of some of the greatest thinkers ever, a lens to look through the worlds as envisaged by the most radical of people, the scribblings of those strikes of geniuses, and the word play of some deeply adorable people. These when encapsulated in a book, and the experience of flipping each of the pages and reading them is one of those irreplaceable pleasures of life.

Being lost in reading is again a bliss only a few lucky ones can savour. To know not the passing of time, the changing ambiance around or missing buses in commute : It is a gift to be able to drown in books.
The constant dilemma of giving up the current slow read for the sake of the latest inclusion in my collection, is the toughest to fight against and I succumb to it most of the times – although I do get back to the previous one. There have been only two or three books which I have taken up and still not completed reading them.

The dizzying blossom book house, Bangalore

And it is not that I read anything and everything! Reading trash literature is showing disrespect to the act of reading itself, for it encourages more people to write trash. While I intend to keep this post positive, let me not delve into the nature of this trash literature – that critiquing I shall save for another future post.

First book (non fiction)

The first book I to took up for reading and assimilating into me was The Seven habits of highly effective people by Stephen R Covey. Although now it seems silly to me, I think it was a good start and I did assimilate somethings into me. If not anything principally, the word ‘paradigm’ stuck to me from this book. And it is one of my favourite words.

First book (fiction)

The Alchemist was I think the first fiction book I ended up reading and ever since I have tried almost all genres and still would resort to non-fiction as my favourite, unless it is something extraordinarily written, about which I will have more to say in the next paragraphs. Paulo Coelho’s only book I have read is The Alchemist and I remember it for the simple narrative and soothing literature throughout. That I did not pursue more of his books would manifest my perception of the fantasy – destiny – fate tales which are written in a wide variety.

Best book (non fiction)

Non-fiction as a genre in its entirety is what I relish. I aspire to write something vague at least in the near future and as I see myself, I would be comfortable writing non-fiction.

In this regard, there are quite a few books which are my favourites. Memoirs as a whole are the best literature to me. And The Motorcycle Diaries, as expected of me is my favoruite book. This is a book I love it for its simplicity and the transparency that Ernesto Guevara exhibits, for us the readers to witness the birth of Che in him.

Best book (fiction)

Although fiction is harder to write than non-fiction, fiction works impress me lesser, because maybe they leave me less inspired. There is abundant inspiration in them, but the fact that it is not real somehow weakens their impact in me. It might seem silly, but I think I subconsciously end up being skeptical of the inspiration I could absorb in these works.

Nonetheless, there are some works of geniuses which are hard to be immune to. I would have two books to mention here:

1984 by George Orwell : I think it is one of those really agonsing books one could ever read. Negativity throughout, yet so believable. The details of the dystopia Orwell brings to life leave one stirred and disturbed. Deeply moved by this book, I did write a piece myself about the future of the Internet.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: This book maybe because it is the only novel by Oscar Wilde and that I am such a big admirer of him. The book is garnished with some of the best lines ever written and one cannot  be more witty, and at the same time as sharp at criticising the society as Oscar Wilde.This masterpiece is again, not a happy story, but I think I prefer negativity in fiction and inspiration in non-fiction. This book is one of the best fiction works ever written.

Most powerful book

I did not want to fit this book in any other category than being the most powerful book I have read, and it did have tremendous impact on me. Made me stronger, independent, rational and left me confused.

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, for all the bashing it gets is still one book I admire not for the individualist principles she preaches in her works. But for the strong portrayal of characters she etches out. I have aspired to be the Howard Roark, and the John Galt, but not as the ruthless ones she portrays.

I like to look at myself as an individualist at mind, and a socialist at heart. Now this might seem super contradicting, but I think I like the blend and it has immensely bettered me in all regards.

As a person, I would of course never want to compromise on my abilities for whatever reason, but I will use these for the world around me to get better. That is the individualist at mind and socialist at heart in me.

Love books

Not the romantic books I speak of, but my romance of books. I barely noticed this obsession in me, but when I could look up and take notice of it, I already had a tangible collection of varied literature – had grown obsessed over it and now I treasure it.

I will forever be the puritan and can never let go the the tangible books for the electronic versions, at any cost. Another small nuance of my reading habit is that I never like to let go a book I have read myself. So, I do not hire books from libraries – the sensation of that separation is bad for the reader in me. Appending to this trait is also my reluctance to borrow books, and the couple of books I have borrowed have not been returned 😛

Until for long I was very hesitant to lend my books, but now with the new diaspora I interact with it has become necessary and even with my frail memory I keep track of them and never miss one!
So, if you have one of my books, I know you have it and if you are done reading do return it to me 😀

Reading, and now writing are as I see going to be my companions through all phases of my life, and with every lesson I learn about the weaknesses of dependence I rely more on these sources to yield me respite, motivation, strength and just the fuel to carry on, not just carry on but to propel like I always do.

Ideas are immortal, but they are kept alive through reading and writing.

The Mantra : ideas are immortal

Words are left redundant, when all that has to be conveyed can be communicated using grander means like colours, music and dance. All I can now use these words is to ineptly reminisce an experience which makes the word ‘euphoria’ sound euphemistic.

I was relishing the experience at a cultural performance showcasing traditional Chinese art in the form of music, song and dance, elevating me along with the audience to newer realms of sublimity – all of this, with zero cognisance of the words being said or even knowing their culture in its nuances.

And it is while being immersed in this trance like experience were thoughts running in my head, trying to analyse the specificities of impact caused by performing art on our minds.

Expression

I am sitting there understanding not a single word, but still swept in the sea of suave emotions. The voice of the singers, the elegance of the dancers and the reverberations from the instruments are all expressing bounds and volumes of emotions, which even the best of prose or most elegant of the poetry might not be able to instigate in an audience that could be as various as that was present today.

So, it was the expression which came in the form of modulations in voice, swiftness in dance, charm on their faces and the qualities of sound that encapsulated into an effective form of expression.

Passion

Performing art, or any other endeavour, if has to have an impact on the audience the passion invested in pursuing the art itself is most important. When the artists deliver their repertoire with passion as that was exhibited today, the experience on the part of lucky audience like myself will be send us into a kick of ecstatic delirium.

Practice and Synchronisation

The difference between a single artist and a troupe is the extra joy that synchronism yields in case of a well performing troupe. The commune performance with mimicked moves in a dance, or resonating vocals are wondrous.

Another difference would be practice. Although as an individual a creative genius can surprise people throughout his/her life, a troupe attains perfection with practice and the result is unbelievable.

Pretension

Another cute revelation that occurred to me was that pretensions and lies make art more beautiful.

There might be no mushy art at all, and Pablo Neruda or Bryan Adams would not exist if expressing love and being in love were mere symptoms – prelude to acts of evolutionary importance, without involving the tedious dodging of the loved and the lover. The wink of the eye, hesitation of touch, joy in calling out the name would all sound stupid in the house of a ‘logic and reason buff’. But, art is gracious enough to provide sanctions to these pretensions and thus thrives great volumes of art and literature providing enough emotions to fill and swell ourselves with.

And its all about Love

Performing art might not communicate ideas efficiently, or melancholy deeply,for, it is designed by humans in collaboration with Nature to convey love. And that alone will see impeccable conveyance, beyond language, words, ethnicity or borders.

Love is diffusion, whereas Hate is osmosis, is what I sparked to say and it was as a result of my today’s spellbinding experience at the programme from a country as ancient, but vividly different from that of ours.

So, I resort to you when everything is thought and said, said and done.
Are you my companion, who does never deflect me away?
My friend who is patient, that God-like to bear me always.

You fill me up with confidence, to confide in you.
You make me ever stronger, to break all inhibitions.
Deeply you are motherly, to bear my frivolousness more than she does.

You teach me my priorities,
Tearing off the illusions,
resetting me to reality, taking me by hand.

I want not to leave, and live only in my dreams,
I seek you to to caress me, back into my realms,
I pray, and I do – for, you are my master, and I know who is you.

Bottom line of our lives is to be happy, or the pursuit of happiness itself;

The source of happiness could be one or more of the denominating factors that drives people to live, hopefully.

I that have taken up a seemingly philosophical topic – will adhere to try defining what happiness I am talking about.
Is it possible to define happiness?
I’d say negative, and will directly digress into the cataloging of the range of sources.

Happiness from within

What makes me personally happy is accomplishments – even if they’re small and trivial, but in plenty. It is not that I would get depressed if otherwise, but of course it leaves me happy.
So, what are accomplishments I am talking of?

When I am able to inspire, even if in a small way.
Writing , and to read it after a few days and feel awe at my own scribblings.
Reading books.
Learning and transcending deeper into understanding anything that’s obscure.
When my efforts are recognised, duly.
Apart from these accomplishments that make me happy, there are also times when I am happy with myself for being happy with myself for simpler things instead of cribbing about too many grand aspirations.

Happiness from them
The them I speak of here are few, not even a handful.
This is one of the most obscure manifestation of being human – coupling of diverse and disconnected people over deep bonds. Names could be different – affection,  friendship, love or anything else. But it is not the name, it is the sensation.
When intimate ones make us happy, it is surreal, but nice (yes from Notting Hill if you noticed).And stays a mystery even to this moment –  how can I feel immensely happy in relation to another person who isn’t me!
It is human nature and of course, this sensation is what gives all sense to the life we live.
In the list of happiness ushered in from the them I speak of here, music and words emanating from the whole spectrum of creative minds I admire are in their own grand manner making me happy.

Happiness from the rest
We are social beings and it is innate in us to empathise with our fellow beings – to want to alleviate the suffering and misery that is eating a vast portion of the rest of us. The efforts, when invested earnestly in this arduous task also provides us with happiness, which serves as an incentive to invest more efforts in this social responsibility.

Happiness by itself cannot be attained without pursuing it, as emphasised in the movie Pursuit of Happyness. Further, I also believe that deriving happiness only from one of the factors I have mentioned above,and depriving others would still leave us incomplete.True happiness would need to have a recipe containing equal contribution from each of the domains – from within, the them and the rest.

Well when I claim the ‘foodie’ status of myself, many people think I am exaggerating. Like many grand things in the Universe, one must witness it, to realize that in fact I have underestimated my own abilities in this regard.

And this underestimated ability of mine unleashes itself quite unashamedly, with no inhibitions whatsoever when I’m being served food, mind you when it is good food.

I eat almost everything in the spectrum of human abilities (of course, must be cooked), emanating from most of the cuisines I have attempted hitherto (both regional and international). While I have a real soft corner for non-vegetarian food, I can still bear vegetarian (salad being the best veg food).

When this is the condition, what more can I ask, than hospitable hosts serving awesome food!

This time it was Indo-Iranian, or must I say Iran-Indian, for, there was mostly Iranian food.
It is quite unbelievable that people can be so amicable and genuinely hospitable. My hosts were, and weren’t mellowing down at all!

The Menu:
Soup: It is still called soup, but nothing like I have had before – was that noodles in it? Guess so. With fresh vegetables, mild spices and a subtle flavour that was disguised in the entirely of the soup itself. Good for a start! Sublime!

Salad: Did not bother to check what vegetables were present, for I eat all of it! The hosts suggested mayonnaise, and I am not all that conscious of ‘calories’ as yet, so had a generous serving of it.

Douggh: I don’t know what it would be spelled, but it sounded ‘douggh’. Beaten yogurt with dry mint is what was claimed. I did not bother too much into the details, for I was already immersed in  it. Bliss.

Sabji Pulov with maahi: So, maahi as far as I could grasp is what fish is called in Persian. I am a BIG fan of fish, especially when it is maach (in Bengali ). It was cooked in olive oil with some garnishing of olives, which I overlooked and seem to have missed 😛 Oh, yes I did eat it with some rice – sabji pulov (its in Persian, although the same in Hindi)

Zereysht Pulov with mourgh: Rice cooked specially, I think stew is a term in that proximity with saffron and tiny-tangy cherries (zereysht). It was bland, compensated well by the Indian style chicken with mild gravy.

Zereysht pulov

Obscure potato: Crisp potato with skin, cooked with rice! It was yummm.
And these apart, of course the dessert. All these were sandwiched between two rejuvenating shots of Iranian green tea!

Beyond the menu:
So, it isn’t that I was concentrating only on food and ignored the people around or the erudite conversations that were filling the ambiance altogether. It was for sure new waters for me, so I was in absorption mode.

Will dedicate a separate post after assimilating the conversations which seem to be getting better with every passing get together.
Persian sounds classy and I happened to learn a few words, at the least. The confluence of Indo-Iranian culture, seemed to blend impeccably. I also gathered the information that the hosts although were Muslims, were different in their sects – one was Shia and the other a Sunni. And my cognisance of this sectarianism improved with the anecdotes and history that was being discussed.

National polity from the left, right and external angles, to intelligent conversations about art and science which have become more so common these days with entourage I happen to hang out with.

More details about the intriguing conversations in subsequent posts.

PS: Me loves Delhi more now!

I now end up blaming time, but I don’t think it is lack of time – ineffecient use of time, maybe. It isn’t always possible to multitask too many tasks. So, it seems I have hit a personal bottleneck, wherein my overall efficiency seems to be deteriorating. All I know for real is that it will be temporary.

This could be nothing more than a regular phase of introspection, where I might have failed myself – and recurringly. The concern although here is that, my saga of inefficiency seems to be defining me. And that I’m afraid is not very healthy.

While sometime back my commitments to tasks were known to be reliable, now there seems to be a presumed latency that has attached itself to it and that bothers me. I am trying in the best of my abilities, within the constraints to cater to all the facets of my responsibilities. I am still consistently working on a few really important ones, the next level of still important tasks seem to be taking a backseat.

There are zillions of other crucial things to mind than this rant of mine. So,do I just switch modes – get out from this trough to ride a crest? Maybe, yes – that’s the only sensible thing to do!

Can’t waste myself on bothering about why I am wasting myself!

In this post, I take off from one point I made in a recent post about Delhi.

From KR Market to Mehrauli market, India is deeply connected by its roots, namely the working class people.

It seemed a good verbal disposal at that point in time, but now it seems to linger in my head as if I have had a revelation.

I was walking in our own Bengaluru’s legendary KR Market, amidst all the chaos, buzz and the liveliness. I was simultaneously comparing it with my strolls within the humongous Information and technology parks, and the soullessness associated with it and the automatons drifting in those alleys, powerlessly.

In the market here, on the streets were people, who weren’t affluent in most senses of the contemporary definition of affluence, but seemed busy and occupied in their efforts at pursuing happiness.

While I was almost cribbing to myself about the 5th kilometer probably I was walking since morning, I see an agile man hustling through the crowds in haste, with a pull cart loaded with a burden I would never be able to move. The cribbing dies in me, and like any other ‘privileged ones’ would have personally responded, a sense of deep prosaic remorse starts to swell in me, and a  culmination with a burst of sympathy to this worker was surging in me – for the only reason of feeling better personally!

Then I realize, it of course is a futile exercise! For, it would not alleviate his burden, or instill in me that drive to go and help him : we are stuck in the pseudo worlds we live in!

I remind myself every time, these workers – the working class people are the true gears and shafts who keep the world moving. People who work day in and day out, in hot summer, or chilling winter, or be it in torrential rains, with a humble hope of earning a piecemeal with peace, and a greedy aspiration of having a better life!

While some of us might want to feel good about having empathised about these hard workers, it is not our empathy they need. They don’t  need any personal sympathy from us, or a blog post such as this one! What would really impact their lives is when we realise we are the part of problem that is hurting them and has left them where they are; And without posing ourselves as a piece of the solution there can never be a better society!

Each one of us is that very crucial piece in solving this problem of ‘expanding disparity’.

This post might still only go down as a mnemonic, and a personal vent so that it alleviates me from within, helping me not  to feel really miserable about all the miseries out there!

I can only hope that I get that courage in me to do all that is necessary, all that is within my power to become that piece of the solution!

I have always liked technical ideas which incorporate adapting abilities in them. And this particluar idea in Signal Processing called the Companding (Compress- Expand) is one of those intelligent concepts which symbolises adaptation.

While in Signal Processing it is about increasing and reducing resolution of the quantisation levels after the sampling process (ignore if you don’t get the technical idea, else read it up here) , it is something that ought to make a lot more sense to our lives and the way we prioritise things.

Assigning appropriate priorities in an adaptive manner is quintessential to the smooth and efficient functioning of our lives, which are in fact rare opportunities, for, having bestowed with conscious human life in a low probability game of Mother nature. While whiling away each moment would amount to treason towards her, adapting and making the best of our time is the only sane thing to do.

And adapting not in terms of altering one’s abilities, but in terms of scheduling priorities to suit our state of mind, in order to allow for the flow of energy encapsulated as skillful efforts is sensible. Failure at this adaptation and getting entangled in the web of remorse or moroseness is the highest order of sedition, firstly towards oneself and more importantly towards Mother Nature.

The notion of companding applies really well when a particular high priority doesn’t seem to be working out, or when it is causing friction; compressing its importance by reducing efforts on that, and expanding another important priority by investing more efforts would satiate the self, and balance the Universe as a whole.

People, places and prejudice make for a real good combination. While I am never deeply influenced by prejudices of people, places do influence me real deeply.

I transcended beyond the Vindhyas technically for the first time (not sure if Pune is beyond Vindhyas and I haven’t bothered to wiki it!) to Delhi. I like it as Delhi, more so as Dilli and not as New Delhi! And I fell in love with the city, well against the prejudices I was conditioned to by many of my peers.

Although I stayed for a short while, I did get a good feel of the city and people. If it were a litmus test, then the city did farewell.

The weather according to the natives was one of the few days in the year when it is impeccably pleasant, and I did relish the cold nights and warm days for the two days of my stay.

I still think that the city is more organised after having lived in Bangalore, although the traffic sense of people on the road only gets worse as one moves away from Bangalore.

I did not expect a city that would be different from rest of the country, and aptly I did enter a couple of local markets with peddlers and mongers all across the street marketing their goods. And that is where we are all bound together! From KR Market to Mehruli market, India is deeply connected by its roots, namely the working class people.

Bangalore has its own Metro now, which I dub as the toy-train-joy-ride for now, I rode on the Delhi Metro service and was glad to have done that. Will now look forward to the Bangalore rendition.

Further, apart from my visit to Qutub Minar which I have been flaunting around in the social networks, I did ride along the city to get glimpses of few other interesting places (JNU, IIT)

The breathtaking Qutub Minar, the intriguing Iron Pillar and the rest of the complex was nostalgic. Pages from school History text books flashed in my mind to be at these legendary monuments. Next time, will visit more interesting places, for Delhi has them in abundance.

And not to forget, ever since I landed in Delhi the title track from Delhi6 by AR Rahman was resounding in my head! 😀

Looking forward to my subsequent visits to Delhi, and I hope this warmth grows.

My proclaimed professing of ‘rationalism’ and as if in a way derogating people who piously endorse religion and / or similar superstitions have by now gained me a reputation that is at the verge of hostility.

I never intend to be very abrupt in my conclusions; my nicest demeanor of this perception is what I have been exhibiting.

While this post ain’t about the classified non-rationals, but about people like myself!
I take myself as an example for, there are a lot many of you who are within the ambit of this post.

I like to think that I am a ‘rational’, quite often than seldom I am on the other end of the scale stuck in the silliest of convulsions. And this perception is not hypocrisy but an earnest delusion.

Rationality is not merely about ratifying acts of nature and being gratified in the accomplishments of the human mind. Rationalism also, and more importantly involves responding sensibly to the circumstances we are faced with. And it so happens that I am incessantly climbing up the ladders to reach the top and become the dumbest rational one might ever encounter.

Letting oneself to be entangled in the web of trivialities, and running blindfolded in the labyrinths of ’emotions’ must firstly be handled more sensibly, where sensible refers to all the senses being enabled, including common sense! On the contrary, while I am sitting here, contemplating and jotting these ideas elegantly all of this cognisance arrives post another era of fiascoes!

While in the soup, a fly is still a fly, but dead!
And I am no different,but only brain dead.

Admonishing myself, yet again, I promise myself not to digress from my professing.

While procrastination of crises helps – temporarily, deciphering the myths behind yields eternal sanity!

So, my dear aspiring rationals, think beyond the book and look beyond yourselves,
Let us also practice all that we preach and profess!