chaotic order

Diaries of a vacation : Part 3 While describing the crucial period in Western mind when philosophical thought was just about incubating at the dawn of recorded history, Gustav Flaubert , the great french author beautifully wrote “Just when the gods had ceased to be, and the Christ had not yet come, there was a unique moment in history, between Cicero and Marcus Aurelius, when man stood alone…”. We could slightly modify this brilliant insight and write “Just when the gods ceased to be and Adi Shankara had not yet come, there was a unique moment in Indian history , between Buddha and Vikramaditya, when Man stood alone, lost in the alleys of discursive abstractions…”. And then Shankara arrived! And what a life it proved to be... The life and work of Shankara is a turning point in revitalizing and resurrecting the purest strains of mysticism that lay buried under the hubris of intellectual debates and arguments of a thousand differing schools of thought. And in a brief life time of 32

Diaries of a vacation - part 2 Rain gods have a special relationship with Kerala. They start their journey from this southern tip, and slowly move across the country bestowing their blessings. And the months of June, July and August find them at their capricious best. Low lying dark clouds hover perilously close to the damp earth, almost touching or kissing them; threatening to burst into tears (which they sometimes do with ferocious intent) or sometimes move away allowing streaks of Sunlight bathe its verdant skin with a warm, humid glow. They are as unpredictable as young lovers, reveling in inconsistency. It is not for nothing that this piece of land is called “Gods own country”. Surrounded by waters, enriched by luxuriant vegetation, relatively secure habitat, isolated communities formed, sustained and nourished on values and way of life that is radically different from mainstream – Kerala has always resisted distinct categorization. There is a fierce pride in its people one wo

Diaries of a vacation: Part 1. It is amazing how the mind collapses into a declutched state when vacation begins. After nearly two years, I am on a break with my family in Kochi. My journey began from Atlanta on Tuesday afternoon; and by the time I set foot in my home at Kochi, it was Thursday afternoon. I chose to fly Emirates this time. Though Delta would have yielded free tickets, it was convenient for me to fly through Dubai to reach Kochi, than take a circuitous route through Delhi or Bangalore. And I am glad that I did so for a variety of reasons. What an aircraft the A-380 is? Introduced to the world of aviation about five years ago, this monster of a machine is perhaps the most convenient piece of passenger aircraft I can think of. Emirates has close to 50 of them (Airbus sells most of their A 380’s to Emirates). The sheer size is daunting. A two storied, 800 capacity flight with 35 Air attendants and four captains - it is almost a mini universe within that big elongated

The basic instincts.. The price we pay for being civilized, orderly, and decent and law abiding members of society is that we have stopped doing several things. We don’t go around carrying axes, spears and clubs beating each other to pulp for flimsiest of reasons; we don’t steal each other wives or husbands because we desire them physically, we don’t migrate from territory to territory scourging for food and water; we don’t give into our instincts that are essentially mammalian and sometimes carnivorous, and dutifully yield to rules that we don’t necessarily agree with but nevertheless abide by; we exercise our appetites to the extent that it doesn’t infringe on our neighbors freedom, taste and preferences - I can keep racking up a thousand things that we all love to do, but do not , for the simple reason that for us to live together we have imposed upon ourselves certain restraints for common good. I am in perfect agreement with this arrangement, until we realize that as Human org

"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... 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 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