China regulates Buddhist reincarnation

This is really hilarious. This jams my brain with such "nothingness" that I am speechless. I'd rather act as a linker to Scott Adam's amusing post on this.

The beginning of the end of this blog

In a couple of weeks, I begin a new life. My life in school. It has been an exciting albeit a "sweat" and "tears" journey all this while. I can't say I enjoyed all of it but I definitely feel fulfilled with my outcome. And as I transition, I have finally come to terms that I will not be writing here for long. People who know me well - know that I have a more professional-like blog going on and I am going to move on with that. There is always a sense of joy, a sense of longing, a sense of pathos all attached when something gets completed. So here it is. I am going to declare this adventure with my blog complete, by the end of this month. Those of you have regularly read this space - thank you so much for being a part in my life. Thanks for all the offline sharing. Good luck and Good Bye!

Reminiscing Auden in face of school

As I begin school in a month, I am reminded of these lines from a W.H. Auden poem. The lines were set in bold by me - lines that hit my strongest chord.

Thou shalt not do as the dean pleases,
Thou shalt not write thy doctor’s thesis
On education,
Thou shalt not worship projects nor
Shalt thou or thine bow down before
Administration.

Thou shalt not answer questionnaires
Or quizzes upon World-Affairs,
Nor with compliance
Take any test. Thou shalt not sit
With statisticians nor commit
A social science.

Thou shalt not be on friendly terms
With guys in advertising firms,
Nor speak with such
As read the Bible for its prose,
Nor, above all, make love to those
Who wash too much.

Thou shalt not live within thy means
Nor on plain water and raw greens.
If thou must choose
Between the chances, choose the odd;
Read The New Yorker, trust in God;
And take short views.

Bergman and Antonioni

Bergman and then Antonioni. Within a few hours, two of my favorite film makers put down their curtains on their final scenes. They are dead. No more playing "chess with death." What a coincidence. It is not a surprise so to say - both of them were in their ripe ages. It is not that they were about to produce any new masterpiece. But, their passing away does punctuates my daily routine and forces me into a reflection. What they have created, how it has impacted me, what would have happened if they were just another Joes. What would be like living in a world without Seventh Seal, Scenes from a marriage, Wild Strawberries, La Notte, L'Aventura, and Blow up. There are many enduring films that are made, but very very few are in this league. Films that are not only timeless, but also act as powerful indicators of my own personal evolution and maturity. In other words, (with due respect to Gaugin) - where did I come from, what am I, where am I going. How my interpretations of these movies change over time reflects the change in my own personal preferences and how my view of life (come experience, come maturity, come bitterness) evolves. For example, Italian director Fellini is my favorite right from the point I first saw his movie, but then I found Antonioni to be so slow and disconnected. But in recent years, I am simply appalled and can say have just started to peel the first layers of Antonioni's greatness and have started liking him. His trilogy which highlights how emotionally disconnected we have gotten is summarized in this dialogue in La Notte - “Each time I have tried to communicate with someone, love has disappeared.”

As far as Bergman, I have written before. I am a not a film technician - so I am ignorant about camera work and other technicalities of Bergman but his screenplay, handling of complex subjects, and rivetting storytelling is beyond explanation.

My life is incomplete without their films. I can safely say along with few other things these films make life worth living. It reminds amidst everything that even though death is the final outcome, life is not all that bad. That some human beings have the power to create such wonderful works for ordinary mortals like me to enjoy. Someone who speaks our deppest thoughts and converts them into visual images. People who show us that what I think, feel, or go through is not unique. That we are connected. Swedish, Italian, or Indian - we can feel the same way and in doing so helps us tide our own insularity and loneliness. I am grateful. RIP - Bergman, RIP - Antonioni.

[Update - I have been scanning obituaries around the leading dailies and all comparisons put aside, there are only few worth the mention. I found the one in The Guardian. Bergman and Antonioni]

Great Clips: Here

Rating Chemistry?

Yes, I am in search of a relationship. Every person I come in touch with, I simply cannot avoid the passing thought that she could be the one. I end up gazing, talking, and then - it happens one way or the other - either I give clear indications that - yes, I am interested in going to the next logical step - meeting somewhere or doing something that clearly indicates I am interested or I just go by. How I decide on what to do? What goes on in me? What are my ways of exclusion. Hmm... mind or heart? Rationality or feelings? What are my roots that stems my "meanings" or "interpretations". How she looks; is she attractive; is she dressed the way I like; is she pretentious? Is she hiding exactly something that is so obviously visible to me.

So what is this process of automatic screening? Is it what I characterize as chemistry? Or, attraction.

Maybe yes. But, here's probably the important part whhich bothers me. Yes, it bothers me. Screening people based on "chemistry" seems to be so natural and more so "valid" - isn't so? Look at the deluge of conversation that goes on about the importance of "chemistry" and "attraction" in a good solid relationship. So much so - no one will even question me (forget challenge me) I know if I say that I am not interested in this person anymore since I am not attracted to her. What does that mean usually for me? It means that I am not getting the warm fuzzy racy feeling the same way I get with some other person with whom I would love to go and talk, get her number, go out on date, and even contemplate having babies with.

Like it or not, I am being dictated by the way certain sensations are being generated by the presence of someone else. I am putting the burden on the other person to make me feel in a certain way. That's a scary thought. Not because it is wrong or anything, but because it seems I am not really in charge of things. I am relying on my environment to be the source of the feelings that are generated. Imagine - I like someone, and fast forward 3 years - I am in a steady relationship - will I still be searching or hoping for that racy feeling? Am I going to keep asking my mind - "Am I getting it?" And if the answer is "no", which by the way, happens when we "think" or logically deconstruct our feelings - what am I going to do? Blame the other person or simply resign in frustration - saying, "Our love life has become cold" - and pay a ton of money on self-help books or hire a life coach or attend workshops.

Now I ask - is this practical? Is it the only way we need to get attraction and factor attraction into our lives? Let's go on a tangent as ask - Am I attracted the same way to music, poetry, photography, architecture, books, sushi etc. These are things that I am passionate about and in a way can be argued as things I cannot live without. How much of Elliot's poetry did I like the first time. I don't even know when i read it the first time? How much of Monet's waterlilies or Cezzane's fruits I could appreciate when I first saw them. How much did I like listening La Donne Mobile the first time I heard it. Very little. Well, what am I saying here? There is whole world out there that I am passionate about and am attracted to that was completely acquired. Tastes acquired from practice. From doing more of the same. Acquired from others who I thought did knew more and showed me a different perspective. Things that I have loved and appreciated in organic continium - a process of discovery of the object as well as a part of me that I did not know that I could like certain things. It is like reading a William Blake poem in layers and keep going as much as I possibly can to the point of "all figured out". So - why cant the same apply for developing likeness for a person. Who knows - why not?

One thing I know is my mind (and most likely yours) gets swayed by what it continually and persistently hears. Right now, it hears and I am afraid it is "written in stone" that - unless I am getting the rockety oozy juicy feeling - miss - you are out of contention. And from the voices around me that's all legit. What if we are bombarded that each person may stink like sushi the first time - but as we keep discovering bit by bit - she may turn out to be the most wonderful experience I ever had. How about believing that - inspite of what others say about "attraction" and "chemistry" - it can be acquired. How about considering that just like our sense of taste develops the taste and starts liking the food we had never eaten or even hated the first time - we can begin cherishing the other person - develop our hearts run faster with each meeting. How about seriously convincing ourselves that - well, chemistry may be overrated - and love can exist, nurture, and grow - the more we get to know a person.

Nappies for donkeys

I can't resist linking to this piece of news. Enjoy...

Just Musing

If people who believe in religion look down on people who dont and people who dont look down on people who do then who is above whom...

What I hate when I am in a relationship?

Just when you put everything aside and make that phone call to talk - and you get the voice mail. And then keep wondering when she will call back...

Woody Allen and Philosophy

I am currently reading Woody Allen and Philosophy edited by Conrad and Skoble. Quite an interesting read. To mark this, I have added two of my most favorite scenes from Woody's pictures in the video links on the right.

Scanning Oscar Wilde

I am experimenting something here. Oscar Wilde has got some bold quotes that only he could say. Translations as they apply now in my life.

1. "A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal." Translation: Calling a girl once in a while means I am not into her - calling more than three times a day means I am deperately insane or become a stalker.

2. "Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live." Good one - in line with Ayn Rand's Virtue of Selfishness. I know which women to stay away from.

3. "Seriousness is the only refuge of the shallow." Took me a while - but I get it now.

4. "Whenever people agree with me I always feel I must be wrong." Oh yes, I do!

5. "Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about." - It is shit and nauseating anyway so why bother!

6. "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Living in despair with your sex life? Live with the fantasy. It helps.

7. "I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex." Does alcohol, sex, and gambling fall under this?

8. "I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world." - Mind you operative word - like. Don't like saints for sure.

9. "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." - Can't agree more, especially when temptations are bodily temptations.

10. "There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution." - This is why hearing a sorry can be obnoxious at times.

11. "Disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience and rebellion that progress has been made." And the f* book calls it a sin? Huh!

12. "To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable." - This is coolest one!

Orwellian trip

Yesterday travelling in the train, I had two lovely co-passengers who were holidaying from England. I could not resist initiating a conversation about George Orwell when I saw him reading his complete works. I read Orwell's Animal Farm in my late high school days. I have always been fascinated by that person - a sort of activist writer who wins respect, especially, in contrast to the many phony ones who write activist material out of their living rooms in posh gated communities. Or, reporters who write about tough positions in op-eds without working in the field.

George Orwell - came out of Eton and the Indian Imperial Police (now, IPS), he worked as a dishwasher in Paris and lived with miners in the north England. He fought with the Republican forces in the Spanish Civil War. He used his expereinces with poverty and fascism in his novels Animal Farm, 1984, and series of brilliant essays. He was brave and took unpopular positions without compromising on his intellectual integrity.

I would love to travel with more such passengers who read Orwell while travelling on a nice summer day.

Update: I thought of adding some of his favorite lines:

"If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. "

"Happiness can exist only in acceptance."

And this is the best: "Many people genuinely do not want to be saints, and it is probable that some who achieve or aspire to sainthood have never felt much temptation to be human beings. "

Doubt is a good thing!

"To be or not to be." Salon has great piece on how "doubt" can be good. It cites JFK speaking to graduating class of Yale in 1962 the importance of close scrutiny and said,

"The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie -- deliberate, contrived, and dishonest -- but the myth -- persistent, persuasive, and unrealistic ... Belief in myths allows the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought."

Read the article here. It says -

"But our generation has erected a culture that confuses happiness with a lack of discomfort, and leadership with an almost psychotic form of false optimism. We have ingeniously insulated ourselves from self-scrutiny and fear. We tuck ourselves away in gated communities, hibernate in food courts, or sleep in front of televisions, swathed in layer upon layer of soft and soporific comfort to protect ourselves from the bracing draft of doubt. We can barely feel our own culture anymore."

What "pujo" means to a Bengali?

Reproducing Vir Sanghvi's article published in Hindustan Times circa 2004

"

If you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta.

When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park. When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square. When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku. And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee.

But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'.

I think of people.

Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads.

A city is the sum of its people.

And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta?

When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life.

It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty.

I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect.

I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion.

In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip. In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry. And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together.

Ah religion!

Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival?

I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion does not consists of Jai Shri Ram . It has little to do with ritual or sinister political activity.

The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic expression and yes, the cult of the goddess.

It may be about religion. But is not about much more than just worship.

In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain!

Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashimi, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?

To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali.

It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul.

But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you.

I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal. It's a feeling that'll never go away.

- By Vir Sanghvi

Sopranos - count down begins.

I am trying to keep up with all the discussion with Sopranos coming to an end. I just can't believe this yet. Sunday nights will not be the same. Wow! A near perfect TV series now needs a perfect ending. Here's what Dick Cavett has to say. Will Tony Soprano die? Want to bet? Check here.

Hot or Not

HotorNot powefully uses tags for profiling. It's a cool dating site. It is free and recently got embedded with Facebook. I have not used it as yet, but I like the idea of cutting through the chase. No lengthy pompous profile statements. No running down 67 questions in the name of identifying the right match. My skpeticism with other dating sites are indicated in one of my previous post. Tags communcate more info in a shorter time about the person than large pargraphs. Tags rule!

BBC World Music Awards 2007

The winners are announced. The winner in Asia-Pacific is Debashish Bhattacharya playing the Calcutta slide guitar. Hear here. It is simply memerizing. Other nominees including Gotan Project (another favorite) and Anoushka Shankar's Prayer in Passing are here. A real treat!

On a Lazy Sunday

Since I am not at all close to London and since the sun did not come out to set, I kept listening to Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks.

And this desert blues group plays some cool music:

Bought a CD (yes I still buy CDs) Paul Galbraith's Bach's Sonatas and Partitas for Guitar. It's been out for several years now, but it was very recently I bumped into it. It is in quite contrast to say a more traditional violin rendition by Perlman. The jerky transitions of the guitar compared to the smoothness of the violin makes it different.

Love is ... competition

The weather has been gloomy and rainy all day. So I thought of coming back here and writing a little more. The conversation with my friend is going on. I shall say, progress is being made. The true measure is hope is getting converted to hilarity. It is perfect to be shallow in relationships. I found that really helps. Every time I have tried to swim at the deep end, I have found myself calling the lifeguards (a.k.a friends). Why try to figure out the reason behind every smile, every response, every insinuation. Life can be really made simple if everyone followed two rules:

One: Women tell the men what you want and at least wait till your man fulfills before you change it.
Two: Men do exactly what the woman is telling you. No more, no less.

No more mind reading. No more expecting "if he loves me then he should know what I want". No teasing, pleasing, and appeasing when she says she does not like that. There will be no confusion, no misunderstandings, and no false hopes. No expectations, no unfulfilled promises, and no upsets. No anger, no irritation, and no heart-breaks. But no!

Why not take the roller-coaster, instead? Can't think of being in a relationship without twists and turns, without red lights and stop signs, and jumping red lights, can you? And yes! when that bozo zips past in a minted sports-car breaking all rules and chasing the same girl at twice the speed I was going, oh! how much I desire he gets pulled over or run over in the highway of life. Hope he gets slapped.

Anyway, running after one's beloved is a miserable but necessary need. Even if it causes nausea. Good luck my friend. Just remember to return my favors. I will be in your shoes pretty soon.

To my friend

My friend woke me up early this cloudy Sunday. Blessed am I to have friends who feel the freedom to wake me up on a sunday morning. So here's why. 2 guys have fallen for the same girl. And he is one of them. The girl seems to like the other person more these days. The situation is as old as the hills. Same old same old - urge to run after that person to satisfy the need that simply prolongs the misery in every possible way. It all began with a seed of curiosity planted in a sea of denial. "Oh really, even he likes her and she may be interested in him." The n the irrational urge to confirm the denial only grew the seed of curiosity into a suspicion and the suspicion now has turned into a kernel fuming with bitterness and anger. Needless to say, latent in all that is the frustration of helplessness and complete loss of power.

It is so easy to be an oberserver when I am not the participant in such cases. When the tables are turned and I be in my friend's shoes (hope not!), I know he will be saying the same thing to me. Leaves me wondering how we humans are wired so disconnected from the realities of life. It is easier to advise someone but not one ownself. Just the way we think we have power to control others when we really don't.

Why is it so difficult to accept that we cannot control any other human being? Why is it so hard to make someone else love you? Or, as a parent to get your child to follow all your wishes? Hard questions - no simple answers.

I guess it is because our foundations are misplaced on faulty bases. We are wired to believe (quite unconsciously) that seeking power by controlling others is a virtue and the lack of it invalidates us as human beings. To cope and control our future has been the primal driver for our civilization. From the point, we gave up animal like hunting and began farming by planting seeds, we embraced uncertainty. We cloaked ourselves in religion and began to please the gods for our prosperity. When crops got destroyed we blamed ourselves for our sins. But even in all that - we never dislodged our faulty premise from our human fabric - that we could control - either by beating others or by beating our ownselves. Why is it so hard to accept that we are creatures on the planet and certain things like weather or making money from the next youtube, are beyond our control.

When scheming and thinking about how-can-I-make-her-to-love-me, we tend to bring in the same false premise that we can control others. And when it does not work we are pained. So what's the way out? Nothing. Just have to bear it. There is a huge gap between what we can do and the results that are accomplished. We can just come to the banks and wait for "luck", "destiny", "fate" to lay the bridge to the desired result. And if they don't show up to create our pathway to winning her heart, we are simply stuck. We have the right to feel upset, angry, and frustrated since we cannot change the physiology of heart-break and pain. So my friend feel all that and also listen to this. And when you are through with your upset, begin another "game of chess" to take your revenge against your "luck". Your heart may be in million pieces by now but if you are willing to hang in there - there is hope. Reminds me what the demoralized Lucifer said after losing the heaven in Milton's Paradise Lost:

What though the field be lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That Glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me.

Pre-sleep freewheeling

Before I crash to bed, I look for a book to put me to sleep. A little bit of Tagore - maybe. It is amazing how the same poems appear different during the day and in the night. During the day, Tagore is so soaked in sentiment that it is intolerable. Yet at night, when the world sleeps and in Shelley's words I reside by brother death, Tagore gives me a different expereince. Divine, pristine, and redeeming. Away from sham, away from make-belief, Tagore opens the door to peace - dropping all my guards and lulling my storm. Unashamed.

If the day is done,
If birds sing no more,
If the wind has flagged tired,
Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me,
Even as thou hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep and
Tenderly closed the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.

From the traveller,
Whose sack of provisions is empty before the voyage is ended,
Whose garment is torn and dustladen,
Whose strength is exhausted,
Remove shame and poverty, and renew his life
Like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night.

- Gitanjali

Rationality vs Relationship

Kafka once said, "We are sinful not merely because we have eaten of the tree of knowledge, but also because we have not eaten of the tree of life." I would tweak this a bit and say, "We are suffereing not merely because we have eaten of the tree of knowledge, but also because we have not eaten of the tree of life."

One of flowers that blossoms in the tree of life is a new found fondness for a person. As it nurtures and flourishes, it is supposed to bear the fruit of a loving relationship. Confronting life , especially the bud of a possible relationship - how it will hold or how it unfold seem uncertain and unsettling.

I am mortified and not at all confident about it. But how long can I think about and rationalize this way or that. Does fear help? Does action guarantee an outcome I am looking for? Well, I have to gather courage. I don't want to become a Kafka with my self-confidence, but I can't lie at the same time. Huh! I need to blurt it out. I need to get the sinful taste of fruit from the tree of life.

Feeling sort-of like a Vagabond

Traveling for work unleashes and evokes so many different emotions that makes me filled with surprises. The deeper struggle is trying to figure what it is. Sad, pain, relief, anger, depair, helplessness, freedom, detached, urge to seek validation, none of the above, all of the above, part of the above, 10% of this and 30% of that, no!. Return to the hotel room - all cookie cutter rooms - maroon checkered carpet as opposed to the grey ones back in the apartment, dimly lit walls, and the TV that always starts off with the hotel info channel - the same girl's voice with the same lousy elevator type music playing in the background. What does a life of a vagabond bring in? It reinforces that I belong to no where and no one. While the door to my mind keeps flashing the red "Danger - Do not enter" sign with the face of a skeleton above it, like a drug addict who cannot control his indulgence enter into my dungeon - those narrow dark caves of my mind's Greek monastery. My feelings and emotions are fuzzy and can't be categorized in the Aristotleon sense. Walls between feelings are blurry and I am in multiple places. They are cryptic and confused. So I tend to be silent, yet can't resist my constant urge of ordering these feelings into discrete words - in language. So in a Wittgensteinian way, I choose to be silent, which does not mean I have nothing going on inside. Language cannot cope up with my thoughts and feelings. I scanned through the English Thesaurus and did not find the right word to describe myself. Vagabond is just a cheap compromise. Again it is a category and its properties are not totally and completely where I am.

Mumblings from New England

I arrived at Connecticut with a place close to New Haven as the base. After a boring train journey I was off to a happy dinner. There was this lady in midfifties narrating her life. An adopted child who never knew who her parents were until many years later she came to know her mom was a nun. A Catholic nun. Her dad was a Catholic priest. She was telling her dad never knew he had a daughter and died without knowing that. While she was telling her story, I was ripping through Ribye and garden greens in the adjacent table. Truth, at times, is closer than it appears.

French kiss in question?

Will the recent French election change what we have so long considered the holy grail of eating, drinking, and love making? Hereś an interesting article. It is not a mystery that the French have a better health care, child care, public transport, and many other things compared to US and UK. The stats skillfully inserted at the bottom of the article says it all. What happens to France will be interesting. In these days, I am not sure whether any political party has the horse power in any democracy to make such lofty cultural changes. Regardless, the most prominent aspect of these elections were how little the French care for ¨picture perfect¨ family portraits of their leaders. Sego Royal was unmarried with 4 kids. Sarkozy has an unhappy marriage. The bottom line - it does not matter, where national policy is concerned. May be thereś something for us in America to ponder about.

Pamuk's interview in Spiegel is worth reading. Here it is. Here is an excerpt which resonates with my view of a good writer:

"

SPIEGEL: You often talk about craft and patience when you discuss writing -- not unlike the painters of miniature paintings you portray in your book "My Name is Red."

Pamuk: I certainly see myself more as a craftsman than as an artist. Of course, creativity and inspiration do play a role. True literature is more than just a story someone has told. It must provide the reader with the essence of the world on a moral, philosophical and emotional level. I have tried to develop this inner truth in all my works. But without patience and the skill of a craftsman, even the greatest talent is wasted.

On dating

This is cool: check it out - Henry Enjoy. Thanks to Hugh for pointing that out.

Typos suck!

I was skimming through my old posts and with so many typos - I feel like banging my head. Typos are like a smal black spots on a white shirt - they stick out. Rather awfully! I can't avoid looking at them and then spend the next 30 seconds in no-man's land - wondering whether I should fix them or leave it for the next saturday. Zero tolerance is overrated! Just like anything else. My laundry. My dishes. Cleaning my car. Vacuuming. Now typose too go into my list. Fixing the typos in my blog. So what happens if I don't fix them. What happens if they are not perfect? Why do I have to pick up blemishes? Can't I just say - it's okay and move on. Well, I guess I do the same with people too. I look at a girl's long nose and keep wondering - why? And in the process miss out on her lovely lips. Well, typos are not same - I know. There is an absolute right and wrong. But can I just issue a creative license for myself. Why am I behaving soggy and why am I losing my snitch. Why am I glorifying my imperfections and going so far to being lazy. Imperfections out of laziness is not same as imperfections following the best effort. But who will find that out. Are standards just personal. Are others really forgiving for my imperctions or they are just being nice - sometimes of out genorosity and sometimes out of resignation. The real truth about standards seem to be personal. Overall, its way too complicated. Never mind what we demand of others. Typos like other mistakes in life out of laziness need only be justified to me.

Blogging as a therapy

I am still learning about the benefits of the internet. One aspect that I cannot deny is: Ever since I have started blooging, I have enjoyed every bit of it. It has provided me a therapy to soothe my nerves more than anything else. So this time instead of just going into a tirade, I thought of just googling (another blessing from the internet) and see if any one else feel the same way. And viola! I found straight from the doc.

Nandigram and Trinity of Indian Marxists

Much has been written about Nandigram massacre. Blood has flown and may have dried by now. I am a bit late to jump in. But I had to. There seems to be too much be made out of it. I had a long argument with a buddy of mine the other day. That was okay. Nadigram featured in the wikipedia. That was okay too. But when a couple of days back, my coworker mentioned it in one of our usual lunches after hearing it on NPR, I thought may be I should write about it. In the crowd of articles lambasting the state governement, the only article which took a notable stand was Sunanda K Dutta Ray's opinion in the Telegraph. Thank God! At least there was someone who did not sell out his soul.

The reason I decided to write is: It is not that I am a big fan of the Marxist government in Bengal. People know me that I am tilted more towards the right than left. But I think people are getting a distorted and overly simplified generalizations of the Marxist setup within the context of Nandigram.

The Marxists in India are a diverse bunch who sort of tried to organize under one umbrella. It is what I call the trinity and it is important that we do not mix them up. Why they do so? I dont know and it does not matter here. For what its worth here's what I think of each of them.

I may preface my discussion with this: I am passionate about Calcutta and Bengal where I spent my first 25 years of formation. I can safely claim that I have spent a large part of my life close to rural Bengal and have seen the Marxist machinery work. In a remote sense, seeing them, I can convice myself why they are ruling the state for 30 years. They have done some good work in the villages.

First face of Trinity (Keep it): In last few years, with Budddhadev as the CM, I, with many Bengalis had a hope for Bengal. I saw him as a moderate, practical, progressive Marxist who understands real needs and is not ashamed to adopt the Chinese model to move the state forward. I am all for his efforts - whether Mr. Marx blesses him or not. I don't care. I think smart leaders and able leader do not follow a philosophy as a dogma but can adapt them to the needs of the ground, the calling of the time, and the vision of the future. Buddhadev is right on the money - when it comes to industrialization. He has my vote and my support.

Second face of Trinity (Stay away from it): The CPM boys led by Jyoti Basu and the repressionist movement had continued for more than 20 years. They are neither Marxist nor do they belong to any other clubs other than thugs, mafia, and insolent goons. With more than 20 years in existence - it is easy to imagine that they have grown like algae and filled in all empty crevices and cracks in the social and political structure of Bengal. From grassroots to the tallest towers. They do not figure in any rational argument nor any rational group that believes in civility and dignity of human beings. I am scared of them. I stay away from them. Period.

Third face of Trinity (Don't take them seriously or better still - flush them out): Sitaram Yechury, Brinda Karat, Prakash Karat, and their friends from the JNU SFI (past, present, and most likely future). They are a bunch of useless, clueless losers. Spectacled professors, straight A shooters, valedictorians, big talkers, media crazy pompous lampoons, Political theorists. Entertainers in your living room. People who never bother to take the real-life lesson that the world does not run according to their books. They confuse activitism with constructive politics. They are like Mary Antoniette's - "Give them cake if they don't have bread variety." People who have hardly fought a real election. They don't have idea on what goes on. They talk about poverty when have not seen or experienced nothing but a privileged life themselves. Privileged that they could afford to indulge in politics. Pseudo activists who con themselves as "great" political thinkers. Trouble makers not policy makers. Banish them from your minds. Flush their views in your toilet if you want a real life.

Now getting back to the first part of the title - Nandigram. CPM's first face of trinity is doing the right thing with industrialization. The intention is right. The violence was unfortunate. But let's face it. Bengal is not like Gujarat. Unlike govts. in Gujarat, Marxists have done tremendous work in land reforms and local governance at panchayat level. People underestimate that fact because it is not sexy as a oil refinery or silicon valley. No other state comes close (except for Kerala) to Bengal's achievement on that front. In a way, the displacment problem is a result of all the hard work that CPM has done - that farmers have their own land to till. And now they do not want to relocate. Already a fertile territory, Bengal unlike other SEZ (that has been set up in barren lands) there is not much useless land for setting up industries. If industries are to be set up, labor will be mobilized from fertile lands. Either vertically where people learn new skills and work in factories instead of farms. Or, horizontally mobilized - migrate to some other states. It happens all the time in India and in all parts of the world. You will find Bihari laborers in construction work in Rajasthan and Keralite nurses in Punjab. I repeat: I am not supporting violence but it is unavoidable when a greater public good is at stake and is being impeded by a group of thugs and local lords who instigate local farmers.

But, after the masscare, the result was broad criticism on the state apparatus primarily because of CPM's legacy. The first face was blamed for Nadigram as a continum of all the atrocities done in the past by the second face. True, when the seond face was ruling and dominating Bengal, Bengal was running in reverse gear compared to rest of India. And starting from police to local thugs - force and repression was common. Some of these wings have not shed their old feathers and that's what caused the whole massacre. Let's criciticize and bury the dead with the incident. The seond face will be history and we have the opportunity to move on. If we bring back the skeletons, we are forcing state governance and leadership will be forced imitate bad politics. And no one but we are to be blamed.

In this mix, the third face is clouding and making things more difficult. This group as I mentioned have the sex appeal to jam public media. But they leave people confused, agitated, and polarized. They oppose every progressive policy center makes - many consistent what Bengal government is taking. They dilute the credibility of the organization and immerse the future of state. Leaves people wondering - who is the real CPM - these clowns or the Bengal government voted by the people.

I wish there was a better way to structure the politburo in Delhi. I feel sorry for Buddhadev. But I hope good things for Bengal. I believe most people realize that. At least, I know that about Bengal. How the rest of India views this - I care less. Bengal politics was one of a kind anyways. My bets are the factory in Nadigram will be built - once the wounds heal and the dust settles down.

Musings of a deranged saturday mind

I was out in the party. Saw a million women around . Most of them pretty, lively, and smart. Dancing to the beat. How do I go and speak to the "one"? So I look for a familiar face. Find them. And spend the evening with them. They are cute. Funny. Sassy. Time passes by. Midnight clock strikes. I am half-drunk. Look for the subway back. And I Take it. Two girls sitting next to me. Two strangers. One was sublime. The other lost. But trying to be funny. She was gazing an empty bottle. The bottle was rolling on the floor - from me to her and back. She smiled and said, "It's not me." "You are giving me ideas," I quipped. But hmm... not interested. I was fixed on the other girl. I saw peace, quiet, and a face that was telling me a long story. Asking me to fill in the words. What's lurking behind those soleful eyes? Is she lonely? Is she looking for love? Is this love? How can that be? No, may be just a wanting to love. But huh! How do I go and tell her that? So "I was sitting in the fence". Her station came. She got off. My jorney continued. To my empty bed. I write this. I kiss this. Oh! well I might just go and kiss the air.

"I always dreamt of being ...." - Oh Crap!

"I had this dream to become an movies star." I am so sick of hearing people saying such things. "Ever since I was a kid I thought that's what I will become." Remember Ellen in this year's Oscars - "I always wanted to host the Oscars." You guys - give me a break, will you.

If only people could reach to where they are just by taking a flight in their dreams. Dreams are not enough. I had a dream - of becoming a mango. I ran and ran and ran -- more than I ever thought I would. Yup! Trust me. And guess what? I turned to be an "apple". Should I say now - I wanted to be an apple? Liar. Seriously, I am tired of hearing this. If only life ran according to the - ever-since-I-was-a-kid-I-had-a-dream way. Loads of BS that at best drives me nuts in mae of giving some vicarious pleasure.

Yes, I may have fallen over the cliff and have become cynical. Maybe as some might think that I simply don't "get it" and still don't get it. Fair enough. Here's the truth. I never had dreams. I did loads of daydreaming bunch of them, and I still do. But to imagine that they will become reality - boy, let's not kid myself here. I do hope something somewhere somehow I'll get close. Hope is much more abstract than my tangible daydreams. Daydreams like: driving at 55 mph during the rush hour in the Beltway. Singing along with the Stones to rock the world. Getting a seat in the ariplane next to sexy girl. Writing something and seeing The New Yorkers and Vanity Fairs running behind me. Whoa!

What I have become and where my life is headed -- I don't have a clue. How I have arrived at this point -- I don't know how it happened. Merely a series of random accidents. I can't retrtace my steps. I can't find my back. I have no control of how things happen. I don't know what things will be thrown at me in future. All I do is hope that I can duck, may be swing myself, and deflect it in a way that's not that bad for me. For now, I can dream that I can always go for hitting out of fence.

Vegetating

My mind has been vegetating for the last few days. I feel like a sloth. It seems like one of the dull patches when the weather, and lunch deli all seems to be consipring to make my head heavy and sleepy. I wake up, go to work, keep glaring at the screen - emails, NYT, and Dow Jones. Lunch, and more of the fluorescent screen, drive back, gym, dinner, and sleep. Run that ten thousand times and there goes my life - my future. Of course I know that not true. Yup! I have plans! I began by reading my own stuff that I posted over the last few months. Gosh! some of them seem to be great, but large part seems to be utter garbage. Reminds me of some filmaker who said he finds his own work intolerable. I can now see his point. I sound so preachy, at times boring... oh! man! I can't go further. So it is good that my mind vegetates for a while. A rested mind and body will be good. That's what I hope.

Coming home to The Namesake

In the last few days I realized that I cannot escape myself from “something” related to the movie “The Namesake”. It has been a common topic of conversations among my friends. Even last week, when I crisscrossed the nation on a Jetblue flight from DC to SF and back, there were trailers shown in one of their “36 channels of Direct TV programming”. Quite repeatedly, in fact. So, what’s so? Nothing much. Actually, I was browsing Barnes and Nobles today and even picked up the CD. The checkout girl thought the movie has been released – to which I quite solemnly replied, “not is DC, only in SF, LA, and NYC.”

It was a little more than a year ago when I read the novel. I don’t know why I picked it up. Probably, I heard a note somewhere that Jhumpa Lahiri was a good story teller. In some of her interviews, she seemed honest and genuine. Before that I was not so keen on reading about novels or stories on identity conflicts and the whole subject seemed quite trite and boring. In a way, it was too close to reality to even think about it. But, things were a bit different this time. The novel was compelling and riveting. It hooked me on right away. Thank God, I picked it up on Friday evening, which meant I did not have to qualm about dropping the book aside – and worry about going to work the next day. And so page after page, I read on – under my bedside lamp in one corner of the world – my then home in town in North Carolina.

It was as if in some sense my fears, agonies, crises were being depicted and being underscored. I felt – if it were possible for the story to go on and on without an ending. It finally did end, and I did not like the ending. It was well - what's the answer - too ????? for me. I wish it never happened that way. Will he find happiness? It was all the more bothersome because I was living into the character most part and in the end I did not want to end up like that. I did not want to be another addition to long list of forlorn looking-for-peace human beings housed in the richest country. And then I looked my own self and could easily detach myself. I had company then.

What a twist of fate? Within a month – a storm blew away my marriage and I was in face of the earth left thinking that I was “destiny’s child” again. As I resurrected and reconstituted myself in the last year through multitude of travels, relationships, and explorations, I still seek my home. I see myself running towards the horizon grasping for something that may be nothing but “hope” itself.

While the movie will open in my city in the next month or so, I believe I am going to love the ending too. In the last year, I have sensed that it is possible to have a happy life without a happy ending. I appreciated real freedom to sense, perceive, and feel one with myself.

Many people believe - What we don’t want to see in life we love to see it in movies and novels. This novel does not meet that expectation. And may be that’s what so great about it. To understand that hope as an object can be as strong a reason to live as what is actually hoped for. One year later, I find myself not to be so different from Gogol. Searching and set-out to discover the world. Living into a life where journey and destination have collapsed into a nebulous cloud. “The End” never happens here. There is no silver lining. Remember Tagore’s masterpiece short story “The Homecoming”? - about a confused, vulnerable teenager at the crossroads of childhood and adulthood who finally gets to come home - the eternal abode called death

I don't want to die so soon. I care to enjoy this journey - coping with my changing identity, changing contexts, and a changing home. Yes, I am driving towards the horizon - an endless cycle of life.

Arranging Marriages through Blind Dates

During my undergrad existence I remember - to get a to get a blind date you really had to be a stud! One had to belong to a different league altogether . With a geeky look, nerdy characteristics, and paunchy belly, I was located in a different dating planet. Fast forward a dozen years and things have become quite the opposite. With Shaadi.com, match.com, eharmony.com, etc., turning out to be the most prominent (or only) platform to meet someone, blind dates are becoming the rightful way to keep my life going on tracks to take me somewhere. The more I get used to this concept, as alien as it may be, I can't think much different from what I feel in an arranged marriage. Can anyone tell me what's the difference? Even if the platform is a podium to get introduced and then catapault that inital meeting into a full blown romantic relationship - preferably culminating in a marriage, I can't quite agree it is same as a typical "love marriage."

Relationship starting off through any of these platforms do not have an organic seeding. You start off sipping through the vanilla latte in Starbucks because knowing fully that you are tolerating each other because you want to get married - and not necessarily you just want to hang out - with no strings attached - without the need to go anywhere, accomplish anything. How different is then such a meeting from those engineered by parents in initial stages of arranged marriage. Looks like the dynamics that propel an arranged marriage discussion runs these "blind dates" too. A hit or miss. To get a second date requires a stronger doze of initial chemistry which is in quite contrast to the way typically people fall in love. More often than not, love strikes in unexpected quarters and worse, it may not strike in the first meeting. How many times, I have fallen in love with a person, after knowing her all too well, with whom I practically dont remember the very first meeting. But once I am in it - I am attracted, not to mention, waltzing in the conversation with her.

So is chemistry over-rated? How about just giving it a shot anyway? Or, if it's just that speck of attraction - a huntch that - she may be the one. Who knows what works?

Slow cooking in relationships

Faire de la bonne cuisine demande un certain temps.
Si on vous fait attendre, c'est pour mieux vous servir, et vous plaire.
Good cooking takes time.
If you are made to wait, it is to serve you better, and to please you.
Menu of Restaurant Antoine, New Orleans

I read this when I came across The mythical man-month which was a book written several years back on managing large scale software development. Is this applicable to relationships too?

I have been wondering how critical attraction between two people needs to be. Chemistry, connection... I keep trying to understand - experientally as well as intellectually. The concept seem to lie farther and farther. Maybe, the less I try to figure it out, the less I will struggle. Maybe I will get it. Wishful thinking! Defeatist resignation! Regardless, the question is how about those relationships that grow over time. People say that's the way trust works. Is trust more important than chemistry? Does one feed into the other? Do some people fare better than the others? Can I learn? I don't know. Looks so much fuzzier.

I wish I get attracted to someone soon. I would let the "slow cooking" take its time to role out a solid relationship. Then, I guess I will have posterity to back up and prove that I fulfilled in delivering chemistry, connection, and what not. As of now, it simply does not exisit.

Nurse the Curse

Start afresh. A new beginning. My close friends who in all honesty keep boosting me. Without getting into the details, a new beginning is never the same. In fact, with every broken relationship there is something ugly that creeps in. Or, may be something is taken away.

It all began last year - on this date as I worked my way into single life. A couple of quick flings later - where am I now? No more goose flesh or racing heart. Not anymore. Beauty does not touch my skin easily. Only the eyes - perhaps. Aweful! Mellowed spirit tries to find love and avoid contempt. LOL!

Learning from The Lion King

"It's good to be the king. You lie around all day. You have two beautiful blond wives, much younger. They do all the work. When they take too long, you cuff them away and chow down on nice chunks of meat served rare. Hmmm, then it's time for (yawn) nap No. 4. If a new gal comes into town, you can take her in. The wives may howl, but that's too bad. What are they going to do, find another king?"

...I don't know a man who directly or indirectly won't aspire such a life. Well, that's the claim made in one of the recent Stephen Hunter's column in The Washington Post.

I am doing a typical Washington thing here, taking few quotes out of the article and I am just about to beat the hell out - as best as I can. Now to maintain full disclosure, the above quote is about from the review of the 3-D version of "The Lion King." Life is really good for the lion king. No doubt about that. But the writer does give a sexist spin to it -- making the remark that how pro-male and anti-women lion kingdom -- which he then insinuates -- applies to the enitre men species -- including human beings.

I agree. I won't deny it. I won't even argue because I dont have a different point of view. I really don't. All I want to say -- yes! the lion deserves it.

This is where I have some trouble with the article. Hunter does not talk about what the lion has to do to get there. In other words, this is a life that the lion creates for himself through years of blood and sweat. The blondes he gets don't have to deal with all this stuff. This applies to men too, not just "men lions" In some rare circumstances, men do get to live like the lion king.

So what does the lion go through? First, when a cub grows into adosclecence, he is driven out of the pride to fend for his ownself by the dominant male in the family. He then groups together with other males and forms a frat boys society. Teamwork and cooperation tides them through as they start mating and producing cubs. Then, the dominant male fights out and chases the rest away and forms his pride. Well, this is the short version, but we can easily get the gist. Not much different from the human life. And if that's so, for all the blood and sweat, and the fact at each of this step you could have got killed or destroyed, it is a reward that in some sense measure up.

Will someone reward the male lion in me with such a life. Just kidding! Else, will be disheartened.

Against solitude

Two distinct traits: Its one thing to find love and its another to keep that. And these two traits are so distinct in itself. It's almost like the difference between a "miner" of love and a "collector" of love. Imagine the difference between the coal mines of PA and the collectors of Upper West Side. Good miners are good in finding hot babes. Well, let's just say they pick up women in a heartbeat. Good collectors know to keep them for a long long time - till death do us apart.

And there are some like me. Not a finder, not a collector. God help them. What do they do? Where do they go? Here's what they do - when the others are screwing they write a mini-thesis about solitude.

I recently watched Bergman's TV series called "Scenes from a Marriage." Simply put - his best work to me. Timeless, orginal, and portrays real aspects of life that makes me feel - every minute was worth it. There is a discourse where the man talks about loneliness and that we are all lonely. We are alone in this world. That's the truth. Rest is illusion. We don't want to be lonely but we try to comfort ourselves that we have a family, a work place, a community, etc. - all to just foolishly comfort ourselves in this make-belief world.

Ultimately, the sooner we learn to live by myself - the better off I'll be. The protagonist - the man - keeps explaining to his divorced wife. The wife calmly listens and says - she does not agree with him. She calls him having a defeatist attitude, which she will not buy into. It's like learning to cope up with sea sickness before taking a ship rather than taking a plane because it may crash.

I was so much like the man in the Scenes from a marriage. Trying to comfort myself - by rationalizing my loneliness. Truth be told - it is absolutely vacuuous. Activating my creative and logical juices in my brain has never comforted my heart. But interstingly enough, it makes so much sense - at time. So much so - I was walking talking thinking that is the truth. It fitted my situation so well. The woman in the TV series - thankfully - was able to relegate this "truth" into an opinion worth rejecting.

There may be some truth to loneliness being the ultimate truth of life. But that does not help me. I hate to be alone. Someone dear leaves me and I miss that person. What's my ticket out of loneliness? Travelling, photography, writing? Elusive it may be, call it kiddish, but I need to explore, expand, and feel free. Goodbye my rationality crutch for now - until I need you again.

Ganguly

How many times sports personalities become icons as turnaround geniuses? As a kid, cricket was my religion - so much so my primal instincts told me that I was destined to be a cricketer. Taking a departure from Schopenhauer's "Man can do what he wills but he cannot will what he wills", I became something else. Well, that was on a lighter vein, but today something really hit me.

I am awed and inspired by our own Ganguly. We have heard stories about Wilma Rudolph, Jesse Owens, Jordan, and not to forget Jamaica's Bobsled team among many others who overcame adversities and became role models for life. Management pundits frequently draw examples of teamwork, passion, commitment, and focus from sports. So whether it is Joe Patterno's "good practice and not just practce makes one perfect" or the Ali adage of "I am the greatest", sports have filled us in pushing our own human limits of "higher, faster, and stronger".

Ganguly with his recent performance has redefined human endurance and the mental strength required to "swim against the current". This figure of speech may be hundreds of years old but in modern world it is no easy deal. With big money in cricket and media's lethal destroying power, "current" is a loaded word. And to put into the context, that he came from a super rich background, with loads of cash and from Calcutta where his prestige was still more or less intact - why did he have to come back? What is there inside him that told him - what triggered that? His will? Perhaps. But where is that will generated? Okay, let's stop right here because the answers may be as diverse as human imagination (Schopenhauer says will is not in his control anyway). But let's look at a smaller aspect. Let's presuppose that his will was there. We dont question where it came from. Let's look at that he delivered what his will wanted. Now - How many times do I even do that? I want to do this and that and yada yada yada. And then give up. Sometimes I do smal stuff and then feel I am a champion. For the big stuff, I give up and say that I changed my mind.

Ganguly's performance and this turnaround is exemplary. If I followed my will once and became a cricketer, I would have looked at his cricketing skills. But that does not preclude me from appreciating the gift he has has given now from his endurance, commitment, and proving his metal. Something more pervasive and far-reaching than his copy-book cover drive. And that is how to face life amidst adversity, being loyal and honest to one's dreams, and silence the naysayers with your work.