Erosion…

I know it is as brittle as glass, and as fragile as the house of cards. I am also cognisant of the deep sense of reluctance, that which prevails even to look beyond the evident.

Apprehension seeps in, when I try to ratify. Ignorance might be bliss; But to experience that bliss one needs to be a coward too!

Is it fear of some sort? Or  pain, or insecurity?

Nah, it is a deep rooted contradiction I guess.

An irony it is, which even before its inception screams out the inconsistencies, disowning the frivolousness associated with the delusion!

Or, is it deception? A deception of the highest order it must be, if not, I wouldn’t be entangled in this convulsion.

Negativity it is, and erodes the sap out of everything in my days, and my nights.

Reason I know not,

Self treason is what I thought!

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What writing is to me :)

This might seem amateurish, or even a silly post, where I am trying to answer some questions about my ‘writing skills’, which is nothing more than ‘hobby gone public’!

The best about writing

Writing is my intimately personal time with myself – almost meditative in nature. It is a process which magnifies the nuances and helps me understand the subtleties of myself and the world I operate in, with words oozing out many a times involuntarily.

I envisage a picture of myself untangling the convoluted self into layers, which are clearer and deeper with every installment of my personal writing. The immediate gratification it accompanies and the cosiness it renders in retrospection are irreplaceable joys.

 

What makes me write

Venting out oneself in a sensible means of expression is natural to every person. I do it relatively well when writing than when I try to sing, dance or draw.

Ideas and my obsession about them have made me write and still continues. The notion of volatility associated with the way our mind works, and the prospects of capturing those sparkles in words is what initially made me want to write, and I am still failing at that task.

The fascination associated with the world a writer can create and lead his readers into, with nothing but powerful and impacting words is another inspiration.

Also all the articulation joy that describing and savoring beauty can bestow is an incentive. When there’s poetry, what other reason to write?

In essence – ideas, anguish and beauty remain the most important sources, driving me to write, each impacting and molding me in a profound way.

 

Feelings about writing

I remember days, rather nights when I wake up in the middle of my slumber and have jotted down my scribblings in my notepad. When I read them in the morning, they seem quite unbelievable, for, the unfettered conveyance they are able to yield. This apart, I have now shaped my writing to be an introspective mirror, which I quite often fall back to to resolve my internal conflicts. It has also grown to become an asset which has been successful in taking me to the places, and closer to the people I have wanted and longed for.

Writing today has become the verbal extension of the biological me. It simultaneously fills me and empties me, renewing me in an incessant cycle.

Writing is the closest to the artistic experience I can deliver, with my painting of words and sculpting of essays.

PS: In response to some sweet queries (which by itself is flattering) about my passion for writing

 

 

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Changing path! From blogger to own domain

After more than three years now, I am moving my blog “Silence before the storm” from blogger to a subdoman by the same name on my domain doubteverything.org and will be hosting it on WordPress.

This being a natural progression, I hope the readers will feel at home on my new, simpler but ‘more me’ ideating space on http://ideasareimmortal.doubteverything.org

Looking forward to all your continued encouragement 🙂

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Extremes of extremism

It wouldn’t be an understatement if claimed that the world is shaped in the cumulative process of debates on ideologies, and frictions of ideas happening incessantly. Ideas drive people – people driven by ideas move and shape the world, forever. Be it in art, science or polity, it is people and the ideas, that make an effective combination to alter the course of the future we would leave behind for the generations to come.
People passionate about their ideas and ideologies try various means and methods of propagating, and many a times tend to become obstinate and ostensible in this process of ‘proving their point’.
Any ideology which shuts itself from improvement and claims absolutism could be deemed to be at the verge of forcible renewal, if not for complete removal. This trend of endorsing extreme and rigid ideologies is what could be attributed as extremism.

 

Extremism although in today’s context confines itself to religious extremism and personal fanaticism, the notion of political extremism, which is more so ubiquitous is many a times conveniently forgotten.

Warning from 1984

 

My latest read was 1984 by George Orwell – one of the most powerful books I have read and it seemed to read out a warning, more apt today than when for the time when it was
written in the 1940s.

Slogan of the dytopians in the book 1984, close to our reality today

In the book, the author has effectively envisaged a negative utopia based on an extreme variant of socialism he apprehended during his times. It is a meticulously written book,  and imagines to the fullest details about a dystopia. Although, personally I initially found it to be exaggerated, the essence of it dawned upon me when I started correlating it with the current events.
The book when placed in today’s context fits in particularly well,for all of its nuances. Just that the ideology he dreads in the book then, today has been taken up more subtle, pretentious, yet superlatively devastating neo-liberalism riding on the big monopoly finance capital that today seems to run most of the world, apart from perpetrating ubiquitous havoc and glaring disparity.
The ruthlessness of today’s dystopia is that, there aren’t many who can even realize the atrocities being percolated, for,  it is insidious in its manners of operation. To be blunt, it seems more civilized while rendering a lot more rampage than the barbarous regimes that have blackened the history of human life hitherto!
The extreme nature of the profit driven world that we are so used to – where we have begun to believe that vice are virtue, is worrisome. Tackling this demonic plague is going to be an arduous task, for, the problem here is not the solution to the problem, the problem is the cognisance of the existence of the problem!

Extremism can be mellowed only by normalizing the factors which are causing these aberrations, and in most cases these anomaly causing factors are deep rooted and require nothing less than a renaissance-like revolution, when all the proles join and rise together as George Orwell hopes for in his book.
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Oneiric Oviyam

A picture might be able to convey more than thousand words. But, a piece of art conveys more than a thousand pictures. It is more so satiating, deeply connecting and easily assimilating into oneself when the intent and the effort behind a piece of art is known.

While I might not want to flaunt the hollowness of my artistic admiration or the nascent aesthetics on those lines, I would still claim to be able to appreciate art.

When a piece of art makes one happy, swells positivity from within, grows aspirations and seeds hope, is it not a piece of art that is worth celebration?

This post is in commemoration of first of such a possession. I will indulge only in speaking of the artwork, and will compellingly refrain from indulging in my indulgence of the artist.

Sopnor Chobi / Dreams and art!

I dread times when I am on long sabbaticals of ‘no dreams’. And now, when I’m living my dreams and in pursuit of more of my dreams, an apt symbol of these transitions is this ornament to me.

Many a times, I imagine a movie of my life and I have only two nuances I think of when sinking into those imaginations – background music by AR Rahman and the whole panorama throughout is monochromatic and in blue hue! This oviyam (artwork) is a lucky chunk from my imagination brought into reality!

Dreams and art, are two worlds so unreal that even reality seems dissolved in them.

A token of confluence of these two worlds is now mine.

 

 

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Excusing myself

In times of timelessness is when one gets bombarded with ideas. This hiatus on my blog which has lasted for about ten days must be the longest period of me not ideating in this space. Although I have been hit by substantial brainstorms, there has only been a lack of my own commitment to sit down, and write out the content.

Now, I feel incomplete without it, and here I am only trying to give an excuse.

While I have been not really busy, with no time to write hasn’t been the case. I only haven’t been able to find the right time to jot down my brainstorms, which I can claim in this period to have been really gratifying.

I shall soon articulate and post those ideas, here on this extended virtual me. Until then, just remember that – Ideas are immortal!

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Classic Incantations – A concert of confluence

AR Rahman’s music is that undercurrent in my life which interleaves most of my memorable memories and important instances. His music is not just a means of recreation to me, it is where my rationality fades and I know of one thing but surrendering to his notes.

Today happened to be an excellent opportunity to rejuvenate my Rahmanism, and witness a German orchestra – Babelsberg perform some of his best pieces. The concert was in commemoration of the Indo-German relationship, and aptly the German orchestra performed to AR Rahman.

Although ARR was not at the venue, he did peek in via web chat and greeted the audience.

The impact live music leaves one with is unimaginable, and if the music is something you already relish it elevates the experience one level ahead. Although this I can’t claim to be the best live music experience I’ve had, it did leave me with goosebumps most of the time, and ecstatic at the end of the performance.

My first live experience of a soprano happened today, and after today’s brief rendezvous with soprano, I only ask for more of it. If there is one composition by ARR that I have always longed to listen to live in a symphony orchestra it is the opening music of the title track of Rajni starring Muthu. And it was scintillating, as expected!

The exotic theme music of Roja, Bombay, Lagaan, Subash Chandra Bose, 127 hours, Robot, Passage, Mangal Pandey,  Warriors of Heaven & Earth, Lord of the Rings, Elizabeth, Meenaxi and Slumdog Millionaire were performed. Each one leaving behind a repertoire of emotions 🙂

The last performance, which enchanted the 8000 strong audience was the theme from Swades. Although my favorite portions from the movie soundtrack are different than the one performed it precisely showed the power of an orchestra! Just splendid!

My monotony was undone, and I feel full to the brim 🙂

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Fulfilling emptiness….

Both socilasing and solitude are necessary to keep us sane. Just that we long for one of these, when the other has been experienced in excess. But being stuck in one of these extremities might render some extreme ramifications – one either becomes a hermit, or an identity-less chunk in the crowd.
I am now relishing solitude after an excessive dosage of socialising. AR Rahman is singing quite aptly and filling the air with “thanimai thanimaiyo” , as I am writing this now.
It is as if I am getting back to myself; as if to catch up with a portion of me I had forgotten and to savour every moment with this interaction. Music and unfettered thoughts both playing at full force : serenity. It seems that I was longing for it for quite sometime.  
You are your truest self, when alone, I had read somewhere, and what better opportunity than when in solitude to rendezvous the unfaking self.
Solitude is not just about introspection, although that comes as default. It is more on the lines of rediscovering, revealing and rejuvenating the self. It has an unparalleled power to appease the disturbances, distilling the mind.
Bliss when caressed secured in the bosoms of Mother Nature and the bliss in the damp warmth of seclusion are but extreme, yet sublime experiences.
My slowly dawning revelation of a close companion – words, seem to flow out with ease, articulating my thoughts with utmost fidelity in an ambiance uninterrupted by the chaos of the routine. Intimate and profound thoughts quantify as ideas and take form as my scribblings. At this juncture I also am introspecting this companionship, and validating if I haven’t fooled myself. To question my caliber of writing is a routine passing question.
And even before I have completed thinking of the question, the answer already is surfacing up. Why does it have to be gauged at all! It is fulfilling, complementing and extending myself beyond the biological me, and is that not a valid reason to stop questioning of its caliber and let it flow? I do write to cater to others, but only after gratifying my own urges to vent out, ideate and express.
The post as you have read on, if you noticed has no structure at all! It is the crudest of my posts, in saying that it also lacks any intent to pretend or preach.
It is quite an irony to see how emptiness can also be satiating. But is it emptiness at all is the question 🙂
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Swami Vivekananda: The monk as man


Swami Vivekananda: The monk as man
Translated from an article by Dinesh Aminmattu, Prajavani, 16th Jan, 2012

Swami Vivekananda was a “dull” student. He lost his job as a teacher because he was ‘not able to impart lessons’ to students. By birth he was diseased. And by the time of his demise not one or two, but was suffering from 31 different ailments. Matching with his Bengali descent, he was an obsessive junk food eater. Until the last day of his life he was eating non-vegetarian food, and was also able to cook non-vegetarian recipes derived from national and international cuisines. He would smoke cigars and hukkas like an addict. Without distinction of it being Hindus, Muslims or Christians, he would eat at all their homes, Even while he was devoted ‘Sanyasi’, he would be engaged in all the get together parties that were organised throughout the day in the hotels, while he was in the USA….

If these snippets be propagated, to all the people currently engrossed in celebrating the 150thbirth anniversary of this “Revolutionary Hindu Saint”, they would be taken aback with terror. Nonetheless, these are true facts.

Even though from a backward class (shudra), Vivekananda took up Sanyasa going against the Hindu tradition. He denounced the same tradition again by crossing the oceans. Rebelling against the ancient traditionalists he would stay put at the ‘unholy’ places of westerners. For the very same reason, High Court judge Murthy Gurudas Mukherjee refused to head the Welcome Committee after Vivekananda was returning from the Chicago World Religious Forum address. After the renouncement and the ‘sainthood’, numerous eminent people from the ‘upper castes’ would address him a friendand not as swami. He expressed his infuriation about the hoaxes, customs prevalent in Hinduism and other perils like casteism, untouchability, blind superstitions, temple rituals and these outbursts would for sure have earned him the tag of an enemy to Hinduismfrom the fanatic proponents of Hinduism. 
 
Swami Vivekananda at Jaipur, ca.1885-1893

Ideas like “Head is superior, and legs are inferior”, which instilled disparity within one’s own body and other disparity installing mechanisms that are inherent to Hinduism had frustrated Vivekananda, and in rebuttal he would say that people should have “Muslim bodies, with Vedic minds”. When the Maharaja of Khitri, a disciple, expressed his dissent about Vivekananda eating at a Muslim home. Vivekananda retaliated by saying, “I would even eat with the scavengers. I wouldn’t be scared of people like you. You don’t know anything about God or religion.” Once, an emotional Vivekananda went on to say, “If I were alive during the time of Jesus, not with my tears, I would cleanse his feet with the blood oozing from my heart”.

He would also defer the argument that Hindus were converting to Islam because of the force of Muslim rulers. He would attribute this migration to the inherent casteism, untouchability and exploitation in Hinduism. When a religion does not recognise and respect the fundamental rights of humans, then it no longer is a religion, but “dance of the devil”, and the place becomes “hell”, was his perception. He would also reminisce words from his teacher Ramakrishna Paramahansa, “Mutual respect between religion is not sufficient, there must be a cognizance of the fact that all the religions are true”.

Hoping that the 150thbirth anniversary celebrations of Vivekananda “Utsavamurthi” would increase the awe and respect towards him, but when experienced turn out to be a disappointment. Even after 110 years after the demise of the maverick saint who lived for only 39 years, 5 months and 24 days, after endorsing sainthood at an age of 24 years, life of the real Vivekananda is still shrouded in obscurity. Often in recent times, Vivekananda is being projected as the “Brand Ambassador” of Hinduism and in this process, traits which weren’t his are being fabricated and portrayed exaggeratedly to elevate him to the place of God! 
 
Vivekananda in South Pasedena
This misrepresentation is nothing new. People who have wanted to transform the society by social reforms have all been made ‘deities’ and have been distanced from the common people. The notion that, if not for an incarnation of God, no normal human being can grow to have any substantial impact has been shrewdly planted and perpetuated by various religious leaders with political leaders as accomplice. Starting from Buddha to Basavanna, Vivekananda to Narayan, all these people leaders have been escalated as deities amidst their ‘worshipers’ and are today drowned in the anointments and chants of their ‘devotees’. Sinking under the worshiping of these these devotees, the real life and ideas of these great leaders are going oblivious in the pages of history.

Last year, Penguin Publishers published a book “The Monk as Man” by famous Bengali writer Mani Sankar Mukherjee. This is the English translated version of a research based Bengali book (Sankar’s novels “Seemabaddha” and “Jana Aranya” were made into movies by Satyajit Ray). Apart from the ideas and philosophies of Vivekananda, the little known private life is featured in this book. Also other books about their elder brother by Vivekananda’s younger brothers and letters from Sister Nivedita throw light upon the life and times of Vivekananda. 
 
Another group picture in South Pasadena
Vivekananda would in future enchant the western world with his knowledge and mastery over the English language, in spite of faring not academically well in his intermediate and B.A exams. He scored 46 % and 56% respectively is worth a mention. Out of 500 marks he scored 261 (in Sanksrit he scored 43 and in philosophy 45).
After the death of his father, Vivekananda, out of compulsion had to work to maintain the family. He joined Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar’s education institution. And because Vivekananda was not able to teach students well, he was sacked from his job by Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar himself. If not for his mother – Bhuvaneshwari Devi, the world would not have seen Vivekananda, maybe. Like the thousands of Narendranaths from Kolkata, he too would have drowned amongst the crowd.

Vivekananda was from a rich family, but with the untimely death of his father, their ancestral property was swindled by his relatives, leaving the entire family onto the streets. Narendranath was the eldest of the eleven children and the responsibilities of taking care of the family was already on his tender shoulders. While he was unemployed, there were times when he would wander on the streets wearing torn clothes, having no food to eat on many occasions. The fight in a court that was going on incessantly for seventeen years got resolved only a month before the death of Vivekananda.

Shrugging off family responsibilities, Vivekananda renounced the world and took up Sanyasa, passing all of his burden onto his mother. His mother did not loathe him because he had quit the responsibilities of the family in times of deep despair. Instead, she would be proudly talk of her son saying, “My son took up Sanyasa at an age of 24”. After Vivekananda’s demise, she lived for another eight years in tremendous trouble, sustaining only on the monthly grant of a hundred rupees from the King of Khitri. Today, the Indian population who are glorifying and celebrating him were of no use when he was alive. He had once lamented, “ Should I always beg to the foreigners”. 
 
Mother of Vivekananda Bhuvaneshwari Devi
Man of a big heart, broad shoulders, bright eyes…”, are the usual text book descriptions of Vivekananda, projecting him to be the He-Man of Hinduism. Little would the people claiming these know that Vivekananda was always ill and was suffering from numerous ailments. From severe headache to heart problems, he was suffering from 31 health problems. Apart from kidney, liver and throat problems, he was suffering from hypertension, diabetes, asthma, acidity, constipation, weakened nerves, joint pain, swollen legs and was constantly in pain. He had been an insomniac for a long time, and during the end of his days he would sleep as little as a couple of hours only per day. Even a touch would cause excruciating pain in his body. He had written to his disciple Mary Hale at the age of 34, “My hair has grown grey much before my age and my face has wrinkled”. Disheartened by his illnesses once he sighed, “ I have become like a limping horse unable to run the race. At least bestow me peace by granting euthanasia (mercy killing). I can no longer bear this pain”, records Sister Nivedita in her documents.

Even amidst all the ailments, the sharpness of his words hadn’t mellowed a bit. Being the foodie he was, he would eat lot of junk food. “I would add chunks of meat in boiling water with some spices and serve a dish to Thakur (Paramahamsa). Whereas, Naren (Vivekananda) would cook varieties of non-vegetarian dishes”, says Sharadadevi in one of her writings. Sister Nivedita has also elaborately documented the culinary skills of Vivekananda, comprising of national and international recipes. The day he died is when the Hilsa fish had entered the Hoogly river; he had got it cooked, had it for lunch and later in the day when he was resting is when he breathed his last that night.

A dull student as per academic standards, ailing from tens of health issues, shaken by family responsibilities, food obsessed common people can also grow to become “Vivekananda”, was proven by Narendranath to the world. While being entangled in these difficulties also, he had studied all the religions and philosophies of the world. He would travel countries and give speeches. He would relentlessly write books and letters. He had thousands of disciples and millions of followers. He started the Ramakrishna Mission in service to his Guru. All of this, he had accomplished within a span of 15 years.
Can a commoner accomplish all of this? Certainly he/she can. One has to be a Vivekananda for that!

PS:  Audio excerpt of Vivekananda’s address at the Parliament of World Religions, Chicago in September, 1893

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Questions as windows to the mind!

Judging people and their intellectual abilities based on the answers they give is ineffective, to say the least. Answers to questions, or solutions to problems can be ‘learned’, sometimes even ‘practiced’, and necessarily do not convey the independent intellectual abilities of the person and the mind.

Answering questions is not an uninfluenced act of logic or reasoning; It is a response to the question posed, and because the question has already been asked the premise and context of the thoughts and ideas are made available. Now, it is only a matter of ideating on a given plane of thought, within a frame of reference. It for sure requires a radical mind to answer questions by thinking beyond the given plane of ideological reference. And hence the rarity of radical thinkers.

Whereas, when people are to ask questions by themselves, it is more of an independent and self reliant process. Questions emanate out of the inconsistencies of personal perceptions and understanding. It is also a consequence of the self not being able to decide upon the realms of applicability of ideas it possesses. To come up with a sensible question is by virtue of the adjective prefixed a lot more demanding mental exercise than to come up with the answer itself.

Allow me to take one question as an example to substantiate these claims of mine:

There is God, or there is no God. 
Substantiating either of the claims might appeal to each of the respective diaspora as a radical answer, but, it is not the answer, the question firstly which is more radical
Is there a God at all?
People to arrive at this question would have to go through a more rigorous exercise than the ones taking either the stand of a theist, or an atheist.
This is true, for any question!

It is not answer that has been changing the world, but the questions!

What if we were not created?
Why are blacks not equal?
What if light is a wave and a particle?
What if time is not constant?
What if there is no God?
Why is there disparity?
Why should it be this way, why not that way?

Ponder, and questions reveal the mettle of an intellectual traits than the answers.
Watch out for people and the questions they ask.

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