chaotic order

"The Reader" - shadow of the holocaust (PS : This is a pretty long essay. A Good friend of mine requested me to add a note on top (specifically on FB) whenever my writing crosses 1500 words. His reasoning was it makes it easier to find enough time to read. It seemed good, sane advice and I decided to incorporate it straight away.. Thanks Old boy.. ) Enough has been written of the holocaust; more reams of paper have been filled with the gory details of how more than six million Jews were incarcerated, brutalized, broken physiologically and physically and finally exterminated in the most inhuman conditions conceivable – than any other subject in the last seventy years. Scenes of Auschwitz, Dachau and Buchenwald have arrested our attention in thousands of biopics, to the extent that many of us have become in-sensitized, accustomed to its horrors, and anesthetized against the sheer “banality” of evil committed during that span of five years between 1940 and 45. No amount of

Jottings in Boulder... The city of Boulder in Colorado is one of those eclectic places in the US. Something similar to Berkley or San Francisco in California. An university town; sizzling with energy of young people, a flamboyant attitude and a sense of raw life coursing through its veins. Surrounded on all sides with beautiful mountains, the city itself nestles in its arms like a child in a mother’s. The name of “Boulder” is apt. In a land of Mountains, it evokes a sense of big stones.. There are no multi storied buildings around; Boulder city prohibits building any, and all its establishments have distinct architecture reminiscent of those built decades ago - flat style colored in deep brown, blending seamlessly with the texture of woods enveloping them. After work yesterday, Sameer -a senior tech developer took me home with him. What a beautiful home, and family!!. Sameer is one of those immigrants who came to the United States in early nineties, straight out of a premier inst

Listen Amaya... Even though the dichotomy between East and West has largely narrowed in the last century or so, it is still, in my opinion, largely visible when it comes to Human relationships and its various nuances. In traditional cultures, the concept of family, relationships between its members, their behavior and expectations - all these are fostered and nourished through generations of practice, enforcement and inheritance. It really cannot be thrown overboard overnight. No matter how competently we ape others, there is a deep inner voice in all of us that cannot be ignored. Call it conscience, traditionalism, conservatism - give it any name; fact remains we still shrink at some behavior or attitudes. We may call ourselves modern, liberated, mimic and adopt customs and habits of our brothers and sisters in the Western world, but none of that can really bring out a fundamental change in our beliefs – at a deep level of what we are, and what we have grown up with.. We are Liber

Edgar Allan Poe - an enigmatic life Over the years, I have always felt a shudder course through my veins as I read Edgar Allan Poe. I am not sure why. A collection of his short stories, journalistic pieces and poems always rest near my reading lamp. And every now and then, when my mind gets slightly weary, or when I find myself hindered by “Writer’s block”, I turn to Poe’s prose like a moth to fire. It doesn't matter if know his stories well enough, it doesn't matter if some of his ideas are far fetched and abstract, it doesn't matter that his style sometimes is too ornate and embroidered for modern readers; I don't care, I guess, it’s the overall quality of his language, passion and an insane energy his words and sentences evoke – that takes me along in its voluptuous flow like a river in spate. I come out after having dipped into his writing completely refreshed and rejuvenated. How do I describe this feeling - the closest I can think of is the experience of first

Umberto Eco - a literary giant passes away. The Sforza’s led the renaissance in Italy: Francesco and Ludovico - Father and son not only consolidated the military ambitions of Milan, but also led a cultural and intellectual efflorescence that was to dazzle and provide momentum for a thousand other works of art conceived during that brilliant age. Their castle at Milan , fondly called the Sforza palace, was their artistic apogee. Adorned and embellished by DaVinci, Fortified by Bramante, it has held court to some of the greatest intellectuals, poets, dramatists of that age, and it was fitting in modern times, that the body of the one of the accomplished writers of its soil was laid in state within those spacious walls on 20th of February 2016. Umberto Eco, the Italian thinker, philosopher, novelist, essayist, symbolist, critic and a fit successor to the literary genius of Dante died peacefully in bed earlier this month, giving up his two year tryst with Pancreatic cancer. Like Dante,

“A little chaos” - a loving liaison between fact and fiction. Artistic license is a privilege granted to every artist. It gives them the freedom to imagine, conceive, expand, infiltrate, offend, beautify, and create a world of imaginary certitude ,transporting the beholder from their gross addiction to day to day affairs , into the realm of potentiality and harmonious blending of fact with fiction; infusing a drab and juiceless life with passion, clarity and emotional fulfillment - and above all, allowing one to see the world with fresh eyes without the restricting limitation of causation. Man has always loved his stories; for million of years it is in these steamy, vaporous and often dreamy world of stories he has had his sustenance. It has filled every human event with a sense of extraordinary, and every act blessed with a hoary myth. And It is from these beginnings we have evolved into our modern selves; not by casting away out our primeval attraction to fiction, but by merely s

Misty Copeland - éloges pour une ballerine On a pleasant June evening in New York, the year is 2012, Hundreds of classical music and Dance connoisseurs congregated at the Metropolitan Opera ( lovingly called the MET) with a subdued sense of apprehension. The imposing entrance of the MET displayed a huge banner ,gently flapping in the light breeze, announcing the performance of “Firebird” - one of the renowned, artistically sublime and mesmerizing Ballet ever composed. All that the banner had on it was a flaming girl in red bending in a classic ballet position, with effulgent shades of crimson and violet emanating from her body. And in between those profusion of dark colors, one could make out the focused, chiseled face and structure of Misty Copeland – the African- American ballet dancer, who was to play the lead role of Firebird in Igor Stravinsky’s Russian folk tale adaption. It was in 1910, that the world of art, chanced to bring together three genius in their respective fields