chaotic order

One of the greatest passages in the world of Western literature is the scene which describes the poisoning of Socrates, the Philosopher, by the republic of Athens. It figures in "Phaedo", one of the celebrated dialogues of Plato, his disciple and expositor. Socrates was spreading a dangerous message – Gnothi Seauton: “Know thyself” to the youth of a nascent, virile young city state of Greece, and needed to be silenced by the democratic polity. He was gathering around him the wisest, the most intelligent youngsters like Phradeus, Xenophon, and Aristophanes and of course Plato himself: urging them to question the ‘questioner’; and that is never good news for a political system. Socrates was to be administered the poison of Hemlock, a potent infusion that would slowly numb the body from the foot upwards until the heart stops beating. Plato renders those final moments in the eventide hours of spring time Athens, when Socrates prepares himself meticulously to die, without the le

I remember seeing a young, chubby and seemingly shy girl walk up the floors of Sa Re Ga Ma - a music reality show ,in 1995. The Judges for the event were the great composer duo Kalyanandji and Anandji , and this little girl dressed in a knee length green pinafore;  after necessary introductions started singing one of the most classical, haunting and delectably beautiful and difficult compositions by the late Hridayanath mangeshkar, worded by poetical skills of Gulzar, sung by Lata Mangeshkar at the height of her musical prowess  -  'Suniyo Ji Ek Araj..' for the film "Lekin"..... Not an easy song for a young voice. The High ranging notes needed to be sung with a mellifluity, precision and deep breath; and also importantly, without distorting the rustic lyrics conceived by Gulzar. The singing also needed to demonstrate pain, a tragic soul to it, almost like the lowing of a cow in  throes of pain. Definitely, a heavy ask for any singer. But Shreya Ghosal, the girl in qu

John Irving is in a way a quintessential American author: A writer whose stories capture the goodness of the human heart, the boundaries of compassion, the simplicity of life and moral values that surround it; all woven into a wonderful tapestry of a good story told well. Reading him is a pleasure, in that it evokes a lot of visual imagery of exotic New England. His language and dialogues have an elegant prose style that makes the characters speak the most intimate thoughts in a matter of fact manner. Sometimes he reminds me of Henry James (my favorite writer), that great American novelist, who had this subliminal ability to sketch a character with great artistry and finesse. Many years ago when I read “The world according to Garp”, it was almost with a very heavy heart that I remember putting the book down. The psychological crevices that John explored in Garp’s life, his sensitive treatment of unrequited love and its aftermath; and the recompense that can found in adultery; w

The spectacular show of the 86 th Academy awards lived up to its expectations yesterday at the Hollywood Center, California. The pride that the academy have in their movies and their creators is incredible. It’s a proud Academy that awarded Lupita Nyongo, a Kenyan for her brilliant performance as an abused slave in “Twelve years a slave”; a slightly unfair Academy that ignored the intense rendering of the Somali pirate Muse, by Barkhad Abdi (an ex Limo driver) in “Captain Phillips”; a socially sensitive academy that honored the Aids story with an Oscar to “Dallas buyers’ club”; a balanced academy that chose not to honor “Gravity” as the best motion picture; an artistically sensitive academy that decorated the mature and deep performance of Kate Blanchet in “Blue Jasmine”, overlooking the likes of Meryl Streep and Sandra bullock; a playful academy that acknowledges the universal language of Animation in “Frozen” – and more importantly, an academy that values its history and its quest

I was listening to Verdi's "Requiem" - an operatic composition set on the lines of Roman catholic mass; dedicated to his close friend and great Italian writer Alessandro Monzani. Reclining on my couch with a Julian Barnes book in hand, the slow movement and tenor of the Soprano in chaste and undecipherable Latin rises layer after layer into a rarefied atmosphere of pure sound, and heart stirring  octaves. The hundred odd violins carry and jettison the restrained passion and deep pathos of Leontyne Price (arguably the most prolific operatic tenors of the twentieth century). At some time during the second movement of the mass, The book I was reading involuntarily dropped onto my chest ,and I lost contact with what i was reading; mesmerized and transported into the hallowed world of Renaissance; inside the Basilica of a Catholic church, gilded in gold , with priests in purple vestments and the choir boys and girls in pure white flowing robes, standing erect with their voice

Blaise Pascal, the seventeenth century philosopher and mathematician left behind a body of observations and insights, which later was collected in a book called "Pensees" ( thoughts, in French). Pascal was more a man of the world than an ascetic in the literary sense. Sometimes, when I read the "Pensees", I find, that it has remarkable similarities with aphorisms in the Bhagavad Gita : Strikingl y practical, and oozing with common sense. Not surprising though because Pascal was a trained mathematician of the highest order , hence his thoughts were very precise, incisive and never shies away from the truth. The reason i am reminded of Pascal now is because of a phone call I received a couple of hours ago from a friend in Atlanta. He said he was going mad , restless ,sitting at home, with all this Ice and snow on the roads making it impossible to venture out or do anything. I sympathized with him, but at the back of my mind a particular observation from Pensees came

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”. John Milton wrote this verse in 1667, in his immortal poem "Paradise lost" . The other day, I happened to be researching Milton for my work, and my eyes glanced upon this timeless verse by the poet. Over ten thousand lines of blank verse, each sparkling with originality and spontaneous vitality, gushing forth  like a torrential river in spate , symbolizing the proverbial "fall" of Man from grace and his possible redemption - this poem is a watershed in the history of theology and literature. Milton was impoverished and virtually blind when he composed these magisterial lines. Like his Musical counterparts Beethoven and Bach ,who created some of their finest music when their sensory apparatus had completely failed them, Milton dictated "Paradise Lost" to his aides over a period of five years and sold it for a pittance to a publisher, who couldn't afford to ha