chaotic order

Sir Richie Benaud - A personal homage.. For those of us who are in our Mid forties and have spent most part of that time In India growing up watching cricket - the voice of Richie Benaud, the setting of MCG, the proliferation of colors on playing field , the transistion from five day game to the one day format - is probably the most cherished memories that we could ever hope to have of the game. What a breath taking spectacle it was? and what a revolutionary moment in the history of the game? When Kerry packer's Channel nine was refused broadcasting rights - the astute, charming, ruthless media Moghul went up to Australian Cricketing board and famously told them " Gentlemen, everyone has a little whore in them, Name your price? or I will redefine cricket...". The board did not budge, and Packer was true to his word. And thus was born the World series of cricket- a format of the game played with a flamboyant spirit, lots of money and an exposure and glamour that rattle

"Something, Anything" - A refreshing perspective on life.. When you think about it closely, it is not the big, major crises in life that really affect us over a period of time. A death in the family or of a close friend, or an illness, or an event that seemingly looks catastrophic - all these will pass away. There is an initial momentum of futility that sets in when they happen, but by and by, its intensity wanes, and the monotony of our daily lives anaesthetizes the pain, the suffering – and removes any possibility of deep reflection and change. It is in the small day to day acts that we so mechanically perform, the social obligations that we so willingly accept, the cultural imperatives that we allow to be forced upon us, the “accepted” way of life that we unwillingly acknowledge and tag along - it is these that take a toll on ones psyche in the long run. Boredom, depression and a sense of purposelessness are the hallmarks of modern man. We may cover it up with a thousa

Yesterday night, I revisited a book -, a series of dialogues by David Bohm and J. Krishnamurti entitled "The ending of time". No two men could have been so diametrically opposite in their thinking, vocation and approach to life; but as chance would have it - in the summer of 1965, at Saanen, Switzerland - these two men got together as a part of a group having discussions on life, consciousness and its objective manifestation. It was evident to those who were present there that something phenomenal was taking place , and there was a definitive need to bring the both of them together alone , giving them space and time to unwrap their perspectives on life, knowledge and human condition. Thus was born the JK-Bohm dialogues. Two sharp, incisive, sensitive, deep minds - one, an iconoclastic philosopher ; and the other- a living genius in the field of quantum physics - trying to investigate into human predicament without any prejudices or leanings. It had been twenty years since t

It has been a while that I written about a movie. Not that I have not been keeping abreast of my second love ( you know the first), but not been able to devote as much time to it as I would have liked - call it professional rigor or work life - whichever seems fancier to you. So today morning - a gorgeous Spring day in Atlanta - after I finished my customary weekend activities, I flicked through my list in Netflix hoping to slide down my Sofa with a packet of Potato chips, water and my digital writing app on my phone (to take down my impressions, notes, appreciations, sarcasm - whatever it may be) - to watch a "good movie". I was literally taken aback by the sheer number of movies in my wish list - some 200 odd films that I have added over the last six months. As I reviewed, I wasn't sure why some movies were on the list at all in the first place. There must have been definitely something about it that would have prompted me to add it when I did, but at this distance,

Adi Shankara sings with profound anguish these deep words of wisdom in his philosophical masterpiece "Bhaja Govindam". "PUNARAPI JANANAM PUNARAPI MARANAM PUNARAPI JANANEE- JATARE SAYANAM IHA SAMSAARE BAHU-DUSTAARE KRIPAYAA(A)PAARE PAAHI MURARE.." I was sitting in the Charlotte-Douglas Airport yesterday morning, making notes on this verse for an essay that I writing, when I was interrupted by an voice sitting beside me. He was an young Indian , with prematurely greyish white hair, clad in immaculate black suit with a glittering brown leather laptop case resting nearing his legs. He was saying: " Interesting that you are actually studying this poem. Is this not a poem by one of those Acharya's who lived in India centuries ago, who institutionalized Hindu religion in four corners of India. My wife keeps listening to this song every day morning sung in the voice of old singer named MS Subbu or something. It is a morning ritual for her. She puts it on

Evolutionary "contingency" - Darwin's heritage In many ways 1859 was a seminal, epochal year in Human history. Charles Darwin published his “origin of species”, after ruminating over it for nearly twenty years. He never meant it to be a purely “scientific” book, but a general account of what he considered to be evidence for natural selection and its effect on growth or evolution of species. The purpose of his book was to lay the foundations and necessary proof for a “Creator-less” design of human life, which meant a complete severance, abnegation of a cherished belief held over millennia. Only 1250 copies got printed, and most of them were distributed, or gifted to scientists, friends and libraries. Left to himself, one wonders, if Darwin would have ever gotten to take his work to the Printer - he was forced to – because his colleague and friend Alfred Russell Wallace was perilously close to usurping the grand theory that he had conjured over decades of observation an

A young lady was brutally raped, beaten and violated with perverse intensity, beyond the farthest limits of irrational human behavior. Her intestines were pulled out with a rod,; penetrated multiple times; every known and visible part of her frail , stunned body was broken, bruised and torn beyond repair or medical help ; her body thrown out to die on a pavement from a moving bus like a piece of putrid flesh - all this without an iota of compunction, mercy or even the slightest tinge of remorse in the minds and hearts of those young men - who now face a death sentence in Tihar jail. This is not only about rape. It is about the quality of a Human mind that can descend to such levels of depravity. As I watched the controversial documentary - what stuck me was the composure of the man who justified his act along with his friends. He was very clear in his mind that the young girl deserved what she got. His reasoning was not based on any rational system of thinking, or an ideology, not