chaotic order

The word Parent is derived from its Latin verb "parere" - which means "Bringing forth". Interestingly. the origin of this word in the mid sixteenth century meant an opening up to reveal or bring forth a fully formed being. I was tempted to understand the root of this word because one of the important issues being debated today in western circles is about "single sex parenting". Two members of a the same gender approach a sperm donor or an uterus loaner, as the case may be, and decide to raise resulting children by being a parent to them. So there are two moms or two dads and the other half is missing from the equation. From an evolutionary perspective, this is quite a remarkable turn of events. Except in early forms of multicellular organisms, which is quaintly called unisexed, we don't have this phenomenon ever recorded in paleontological history. Every known organism that qualifies to be included in reproductive tradition have always exhibited a

In the annals of American History, none holds a more affectionate and respectable position in public mind than the scholarly figure of Benjamin Franklin. In fact, one would run of words and epithets to describe his multi-dimensional personality. A statesman, scientist, philosopher, philanthropist, Ambassador and more importantly the founding father of thirteen colonies that originally constituted the United States of America. In fact, it seems unbelievable, at this distance to contemplate that a single individual could have affected the destiny of a nation so profoundly in its formative years and give it the necessary moral and intellectual momentum to propel the country towards its growth, stability and prosperity – traits that have sustained this country for last two hundred odd years. This essay is however not about his political or scientific accomplishments, but a rather a facet of his life that is not widely known. He was the editor, publisher of a gazette, (a precursor to th

"Mardaani" - A Rani Mukherjee film... Many years ago, I remember watching "Hey Ram" , a Kamal Hasan movie on the Hindu Nationalist movement during partition. It was, if I recall correctly, a three hour feature film. At this distance, what I can conjure about it vividly in my mind's eye is the little cameo role essayed by the young Rani Mukherjee , as a Bengali teacher, killed during the madness of Hindu-Muslim riots. It was not only the passionate kiss executed with intense abandon, but her lilting husky voice spoken in low tones; sultry complexion; those gorgeous hazel colored eyes that seem to float around its orbs with fluid artistry - keeps leaping out of my memory again and again. I did not get to see too many of her films until the mid or later part of the last decade, but within a span of two years I chanced to watch "Hum tum", "veer Zaara" and then the masterpiece "Black". Here was a young lady, who had come into her zon

She was a born an aristocrat; educated in the highest traditions of the country; exposed to all the luxuries that life could possibly provide; could have chosen a career of her choice in any direction that she may have wanted to - yet, she settled to writing history for the common public. Barbara Tuchman, the grand dame of American life was perhaps one of the finest historians of the last two hundred years alongside the Durant’s, Toynbee’s and Jacques Barzun’s, who retold great stories of contemporary history in a form and manner accessible to educated citizens. Barbara Tuchman was born in 1912 into a Jewish family with a rich International banking experience, philanthropic institutions, and political new papers on her Father’s side; and a rich inheritance of political offices on her Mother’s. Growing up in the lap of luxury; educated in Walden and Radcliffe; worked as a journalist (in her father’s newspaper “Nation”), a writer reporting on the Spanish civil war; travelled the glob

“The entire idea of Christmas, sharing gifts and camaraderie is a big money making spin. I have grown past it, man... I don't give gifts to anybody, and I accept gifts from none. How can we be so credulous to believe that charity, love and sharing practiced one day in year makes us any more ethical or moral ..." He was a middle aged, black American, who joined us for dinner yesterday at a well-known Mexican place that we regularly patronize. The above remark was made in response to a greeting made by one of my friends (in all good faith, of course…). We looked at each other - puzzled. I said: "John (name changed). Whats wrong in celebration? Even if it be for a day in a year. Though I agree in principle what you say, I certainly would not be so vehemently opposed to giving into the spirit of the moment and enjoy the atmosphere. After all, Human beings need an occasion to let-go; and this may be one such day. Anyways John, I think you are trying to be an Intellectual

"One way" - a review.. A young bespectacled girl with large black eyes meets a young debonair Upper middle class boy at graduation day in 1988 ; goes to his apartment hoping to spend a night together; end up committing to be friends and not to be entangled in a physical relationship. They meet each other on July the 15th each year to exchange notes on their happiness, travails, challenges and dreams that the previous year had bequeathed to them; bond deeper, and part ways again to pursue their individual paths. Emma wishes to be writer, Dexter moves direction-less between one promiscuous relationship to another; drugging himself to numbness; hosting a flashy depthless TV show, but all along pining for that elusive unconditional, unselfish love that poets and artists have veiled our eyes with for ages now.. Literature has a term for such stoic relationships. They call it "Platonic" - indicating the possibility of fulfillment only within the interiors of ones bu

In a few days, I reach a chronological age when , by definition or statistical probability, at least half of my average life span has been expended. In other words, on a normal bell curve, I am at the median, and on the other side of it lies a series of data points that spread up to 70, with a large distribution of outliers as well. So on a life-span graph, assiduously constructed from sophisticated statistical tools, I am at point when One is supposed to make that transition to impending old age with dignity and grace. Though, physically the body has some distance to go before it can start showing signs of decrepitude, this short essay is more of an inner barometer of progress, or balance that ought to have achieved after having spent donkey number of years floating with and against the flotsam and jetsam of existence.. During my travel this week, I carried along two significant books that I managed , despite a vey busy schedule - to read and finish. One is Anthony storr's &