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"A Single Man" - the loneliness of separation

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"A Single Man" - the loneliness of separation In the annals of Gay relationships in twentieth century, none had more transcendental quality, artistic flamboyance, endurance and perfect affinity than the celebrated romance between Novelist Christopher Isherwood (1904 -1986) and painter Don Bachardy. They met memorably for the first time on a moonlit evening in 1953, on the pristine beaches of Santa Monica, California. It was coincidentally Valentine’s Day as well; Isherwood was then 48 years old- a celebrated author, poet and a renowned translator of Indian spiritual texts; and Don was an 18 year old boy, fragile, lonely with mellow green eyes studying to be a painter. The fire that crackled between them on that cool windy night was never doused for the next 32 years. It physical, emotional and intellectual heat abated only when Isherwood (86 years) died in Don’s arms in 1986, after a prolonged battle with prostate cancer, and the embers of those last few months were i

An interesting personal conversation - the alchemy of de-addiction

An interesting personal conversation... Martin is studying to be a psychologist - specializing in addiction. A young man: tall, handsome, with light blue eyes and well maintained physique; I keep bumping into him oftentimes in the Sauna. He normally comes in with his friends for a vigorous workout, and then walks into the hot room alone for a fitting finale to a tiring regime of weights and exercises. Our acquaintance gradually has grown from mere greetings to a slightly more firm ground; and today both of us were alone in the sauna at 7.30 P.M, and we started talking. Soon enough, we realized that we were ravenously hungry; and after a quick shower headed to a nearby café for dinner. Night was setting in, and the intense heat and humidity of the day was now giving way to a faint cool breeze. It was heavenly after a tiring workout to feel the cool air on one's skin. We ordered dinner, and Martin started this conversation: “Hey Bala, Don’t mind me asking you this. I remember m

Fiction vs. Non fiction - a personal rumination

Fiction vs. Non fiction - a personal rumination I have heard this view from a lot many friends:... “Bala, I have stopped reading fiction, I only read Non-fiction” or “Fiction is waste of time, I am better off reading a book that increases my knowledge...”, or with a look of condescension in their eyes, they tell me “You still read fiction, what do you gain by it…” These are representative comments that I have gotten from many educated friends. Frankly, I don’t respond to these, only because I regard these individuals in high esteem, and would not want to offend them in any manner. They are entitled to their opinions and I respect them for it. But the purpose of this essay is to present a case for fiction, not because it really needs one, but merely as a plea to not get into a trap of snobbism, and start deriding the ancient art of storytelling as a distraction in an otherwise “purpose driven” human life. Good fiction is perhaps the earliest form of human communication. It is fictio

"You are not you" - A poignant portrayal of ALS

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"You are not you" - A poignant portrayal of ALS One of the most difficult things to acknowledge and accept with stoic equanimity is to watch a young, talented and vibrant individual reduced to a vegetative state by a disease. Death in any form seems cruel to us, but when is afflicts somebody young - paralyzing, debilitating and decaying the human body from within - then the pain of it for the victim and for those who care for them becomes unbearable. Life suddenly transforms itself into something cruel and heartless; and all vestiges of faith and hope tend to diminish - and what remains is an intense state of skepticism and a deep mistrust of life. ALS is one such disease. With its cause virtually unknown, and cure almost impossible - its victims suffer from a condition that can only be termed as tragic. Muscles atrophy, breathing becomes progressively difficult, vocal chords give way to incoherent speech; the fine balance between the brain and bodily organs slowly dege

Life and Work - a conversation with an Engineer

John is a fantastic network engineer. Stocky, well built, sharp penetrating eyes, a drawling southern accent - he was probably the most attentive in our group. He asked questions in a manner that is unlikely to offend anybody, interjected his studied comments with a gentleness that enhanced the quality of subject being taught without deviating from the topic- John presented himself as befitting a professional with over twenty years of networking experience behind him. His knowledge of network transport protocols was almost eerie to say the least. He would talk of bytes, zeros and ones, routers, TCP layers - in such intimate tones that an outsider happening to overhear would definitely assume something is wrong with him. Probably – a mental imbalance. His standard line over the last five days “Network packets don’t lie”. He was sitting next to me, and so both of us developed a bond that comes when two individuals are in a similar quest to understand technical nuances. We arrived early

A night in Downtown San Francisco

A night in Downtown San Francisco There can no better learning experience than staying in a Hotel room, right above a teeming night club, in the middle of downtown San Francisco. Such hotels call themselves “boutique" styled establishments. When I did a casual research on the word "Boutique”, this is what I found : "Boutique hotel is a term used in North America and the United Kingdom to describe small hotels in unique settings with upscale accommodations.". Interesting! The hotel is definitely uniquely located, but whether upscale or not, I may not be the best judge. I am perfectly happy with this place though. I am a firm believer in the tradition of Alexander pope that the poper study of mankind lies in observing man and his behavior in the different circumstances. It is easy to put on ones best behavior in a place where everything is decent and orderly, but to remain so under most tempting circumstances is difficult. Ones gets pulled in different directions.

The myth of Spelling bees..

The myth of Spelling bees.. Yet another set of Indian Kids have won the National Spelling bee contest this year. In the last fifteen years, this prestigious prize has gone to a kid of Indian origin a whopping 12 times. By any stretch of imagination or ratiocination - this is a significant statistic that can leave no doubt about the fact that Indian kids have found a way to crack this game of etymology. No jokes!!. But here is the thing that I am worried about: I was talking to a couple of Indian parents in my community as I headed out for my evening walk, when one of the high-energy fathers enthusiastically said “Sir, I have started training my son on Spellings. He has a habit of reading, and I am sure he will be good with words". The other parent (Mother in this case) nodded her head excitingly and said “Ramesh (her son) also is like that. When he was four, he would not go to bed without flipping though few pages of a book...” She had a proud, beaming smile on her face -&qu