chaotic order

More than two thousand years ago, in the “Apologies”, so majestically conceived by Plato, Socrates utters these powerful words: “An unexamined life is not worth living...” This has been the credo of the thinking West since then. All science, Metaphysics, logic, philosophy stemmed from this singular need to observe life in its own terms, and not live in the fantasy world of imagination, superstitio n and indoctrinated beliefs that had held Mankind in its sway since the dawn of recorded civilization. However even a casual study of history will vindicate that this has never been an easy task. For nearly fifteen centuries, since the crucifixion of Christ, both Science and religion were brutally submerged in cults, institutions, fabricated realities, deceptive truths and a labored body of dogma – that it was quite impossible to live the Socratic creed of introspection that had originally set the tone. The tides of history did throw up, every now and then, men and women who managed to break

The genesis of this article lies in a conversation I had with a Young South Indian mother in Cleveland airport. She was travelling to India to perform the rites of Upanayanam for her son, about twelve years old. It was a two hour long wait and conversation blossomed. I could sense that she was not very happy going through this ceremony. She said “You know, neither my Husband nor me believe in this  silly ritual. Both our parents are alive, and they have been insisting on this for some time. We didn't want to disappoint them. They believe that this ritual ought to be performed, and we just want to go along with them. Personally, what difference does a foot long thread hung diagonally over one’s shoulder going to make... ’ She chuckled at her wisdom and continued: “… It’s all a ‘myth’ and an unnecessary ritual. Rahul (name changed), my son, does not know that he is in for a long tiring two days hard work. Well, if it keeps everyone happy, we are Ok with it…” I paused for a moment an

Each time I read or hear about a potential violent epidemic, I am reminded of Albert Camus “The plague” and his vision of Human absurdism in the face of terrible irrationality of the Universe. It is amazing how century upon century, Mankind has been afflicted by one pestilential disease after the other, leaving in its wake a devastation, a sordid fear of existence and a numbing blow to his pride,  vanity, arrogance and misplaced sense of superiority. More lives have been lost to debilitating epidemics than all wars put together. It is almost as if a curse rips through life, and purges the Earth of its burden in its own inimitable manner. I was watching the reportage on the outbreak of Ebola on national television and was stuck by the poignancy of Camus’s conception of his novel, and how true and realistic were his story, characterization and philosophy of Man’s essential loneliness in this pitiless Universe. Plague has played a very important role in Human history: The ten biblical pl

I have always loved the genre of historical fiction. Some of my most memorable reading experiences have been books that entertain as well as educate. Coleen McCullough's bulky, meticulously researched tomes of Roman history; or the admirable chronicles of English royalty by Philippa Gregory; or James Cavell's magical journey of eastern culture in six glorious volumes; or Leon Uris's wonderful modern and ancient historical dramas; or James Michener's unparalleled stories of diverse seminal societies; or Irving stone's throbbing biographies of intellectual, political and artistic giants; or Edward Rutherford's penetrating study of English origins;; or Hillary Mantel's insights into sixteenth century Cromwellian era; or Herman Wouk’s Pulitzer winning novels on World wars; or Sir Walter Raleigh’s breathtaking stories of the knight Templars; or Ellis Peter’s ecclesiastical mysteries seen through the eyes of brother Cadfael; or Umberto Eco’s bibliophilic tales of

Martin Luther king Jr, the celebrated Civil rights activist is known throughout the civilized world for his historic “I have a dream…” address, delivered on August 28th 1963, against the majestic backdrop of Lincoln memorial to more than tens of thousands of citizens who stood along Capitol hill, awestruck, inspired and transformed by the passion and intensity that those simple words evoked, when  they gushed forth from the deep throated southern voice of Dr king. It is an exhortation that ranks amongst the most celebrated orations in recorded Human history, and without any question of doubt, galvanized an entire nation, nay - the whole of Mankind to rise above divisions based on skin and color and to strive to create an egalitarian society. But to me, personally, there is one more speech, or more of a sermon rather, delivered in a small Baptist church in Chicago that is closer to my heart. It resonates even more truly of the spiritual dimension and kind of Man Dr King really was. Lis

“Advaita” is a beautiful word:  Its esoteric meaning indicating a precarious sense of Non-duality, a kind of dialectic cul-de-sac that points to nowhere. The Hindu mystics coined this term realizing early in their introspective adventure that the Universe will remain a composition of polar opposites, only as long as one continues to verbalize and pigeon-hole experiences – otherwise all that it is:  is merely a continuum that oscillates between being and non-being: like music- which in its essence, is a delicate, intangible flow of absorbing silences interspersed with accentuating noises. One without the other cannot exist, and the Human ear needs to hear those “silences” as much as those noises in-between to recreate the magic within the brain. Our ‘core self’ abstracts the minutiae of this process of Silence/Noise from the lens of consciousness, and coalesces discrete pieces of experience into a wholesome flow, which we know and admire as Music. The funny thing though is that neuros

When Death row prisoners are taken on their last solitary walk in chains to the Gas chamber, the guards accompanying them shout aloud: “Dead Man walking…, Dead Man walking….” No one is clear on the origins of this ritual, but it is one of t hose chants that linger thick in the air, reverberating across lonely steeled corridors, reminding all inmates who lurk in their lonely cells counting their days, hours and minutes - that the end is near. Society has deemed them unfit to live anymore in their midst, and they wait: handcuffed, tied, emotionally drained, physically emaciated, intellectually paralyzed; and, in most cases, bemoaning their destiny and banishment -with an unspoken dread of complete annihilation that they imminently face. The Moral issues of ritually preparing a man for slaughter, over a period of months, or even years; and the agony of having an audience watch the sordid show with a Sandwich and Soda in hand and a gleam of satisfaction in their eyes the torment and retri