chaotic order

The Twentieth century produced two of the most virulent, depraved and maniacally totalitarian regimes the history of Mankind has ever recorded or seen: “Stalinism” and “Hitlerism”. In Man’s long struggle to achieve a dominant society, these two regimes represent the farthest end of the spectrum – a manifestation of pure Evil.  At this distance, it is simply unthinkable that a government apparatus could exterminate millions of people as a matter of principle without scant regard for basic rudiments of morality and ethics. But yet, it was done, and the ghastly details of the process could fill a whole library; and the men who propelled and organized these initiatives were for most part decent people who led quiet private lives with families, but were willing to suspend their ability to think and make moral judgments when it came to executing “orders” from a hierarchy over which they had no control, much less of moral scruples over the gravity of their actions. They were merely cogs in

Strategies for Effective Learning Delivery Ever since I was a young boy in a classroom, the idea of teaching has always intrigued me. At school, there were many teachers who made my attention wander or induced boredom. And then there were those that had my undivided attention. They transfixed me, inspired me and tickled my curiosity. I have often wondered what makes the difference. What sets inspiring educators apart from their peers? I still have fond memories of my History teacher in 7 th grade. He used to walk in to the class without a single paper or book in his hand. He would often start a discussion on a random topic and leave the whole class spellbound with his vivid account of great Kings, Queens and events around the world. He actually made history come alive – free from the confines of a drab textbook. I always got exceptionally good grades in history as compared to other subjects. My parents would often wonder why. Well, I wondered too. It took me years to fi

At last ,Gabriel Garcia Marquez has slipped into immortality. I wonder if Garcia would even want it call it that . Often, when one has lost a beloved, a surreal part of yourself ;- words choke; and they would struggle to find expression to those intimate thoughts, emotions and encounters that was so much an integral part of ones life. Garcia's death has silenced me. It sounds foolish though to assu me that a man should keep living forever, but then, when you can tell stories the way he did ; in his magical language with fertile imagination ; - it is alright to delude oneself that Garcia will live forever; will keep us enthralled with wide-opened eyes absorbing his tales of history,passion, pain, betrayal ,revenge and the triumph of Human spirit against all odds. It is right to assume that Garcia can never die!!!!. He never will though, because, as long as literature is enjoyed as a medium that evokes life as an extraordinary journey :full of mystery; every moment transformed into

All that I could see was the spacious and stunning architecture of the Temple of Latter day saints (LDS) situated in temple Square, Downtown Saltlake city. The inner precincts of the church was only for the believers of Mormonic faith, and needed a recommendation from an higher authority to enter it. So obviously, I couldn't go inside.. A friend of mine, an young lady, who had attended my clas s months ago decided to accompany me to the temple grounds, when she knew that I was planning to visit it. She was a staunch Mormonite. It was a beautiful evening and we strolled around the capacious acreage of greenery talking and discussing the rudiments of her faith and the symbology behind it. Mormons placed a lot of importance on Customs, rituals and strict adherence to it, and she was telling me about the various books that they use for liturgical purposes; and its origins. She seemed very knowledgeable about the whole thing., but I could sense that she was really making an effort to j

Contrary to wise and popular opinion there are no absolutes in this world . It is only an abstraction created by the mind when it cannot find tranquility in the "what is". A complete Misanthrope, fastidious to the core, utterly repulsive, d isdains company or relationship in any form - such is the character of Melvin essayed by the inimitable Jack Nicholson : the seemingly neurotic author in this brilliant 1997 movie "As good as it gets". One cannot expect even the mildest curtsies from this man. His neighbors detest him, and he revels in their discomfort. He mouths the most hurtful comments to his gay neighbor Simon ; presents to him, his most disgraceful self ; makes him squirm and writhe through his pointed taunts and sarcasms; and yet our hero, is also a successful author who is capable of writing the most tender stories about love and relationships. Such is the anomaly of life. He needs to sit at the same table at his restaurant for breakfast, use his own cutl

Dinu Lipatti lived but a brief and incandescent life of thirty two years. Born in 1917; succumbed to Leukemia in 1950 , taking along with him a prodigious talent, a gift, an unsurpassed mastery over the Piano and not the least; the tremendous affection of his passionate audience, who flocked to hear him every time his thin body took to stage to weave his magic upon his favorite instrument ... Unorthodox, frail, unbounded endurance on stage - his mastery, meticulous prepar ation and scrupulous interpretation of the piano compositions of Chopin, Tchaikovsky and Beethoven among others , held listeners and critics spellbound during his short and intense career as an artist. In particular, The Waltzes and Etudes of Chopin came alive under the supple, nimble and divine fingers of Lippati. And as if by a tryst of destiny, It was his disposition to record more and perform less on stage ; probably because his unstable and deteriorating health left him incapable of playing live at a stretch

A Beautiful Spring day in Atlanta yesterday. I took a long walk ; and on my way back, I stepped into my favorite restaurant in Dunwoody for a bite of dinner. I normally prefer sitting at the bar (though, I don't drink anymore!!), because it gives me an opportunity to meet my old friends , and secondly the bar is the least snobbish place to sit and hit an easy conversation with fellow human beings. . It was quite a busy night, and there was a long queue waiting to be seated . I quickly wound my way to my customary corner seat, which strangely enough never gets occupied ,only to find an old friend sitting next to me. I am meeting him after many months. He is a Stocky American in his early fifties, casually dressed with gentle blue eyes that always seem to have a pleading look in them. He works as a senior account manager in a retail chain in Atlanta. An inveterate wine drinker ; he was now holding a glass of red wine and lost in thought when my greeting woke him up from his reverie.