chaotic order

Jottings : Slice of life - 64 ( Presidential medal of Freedom - honor and appeasement) Unlike most other countries, the USA’s highest civilian award - the Presidential medal of Freedom - is often a whim, a taste, a sign of an outgoing’s President’s larger legacy than his political one. Historically, if one looks at the number of awards given by each President, especially during last few months of their tenure ( jokingly referred to as the lame duck period), it is always the time when they open the white house halls to honor those they have loved, cherished and supported their cause in one way or the other. Not that recipients at any time were less deserving. No, not at all. All awardees, since the time John F Kennedy reconstituted this award in 1963, have been stalwarts, giants and path breakers in their fields of endeavor. Music, dance, writing, Governance, Military, business, social science, sports - all of them have found representation. But as I said, each President’s choice of

Jottings : Slice of life- 63 ( Gore Vidal’s “Lincoln”) No other man in recorded Human History has so much written about him or his work, his influence or his legendary personality - as Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the United States. The number of written works alone around this enigmatic man totals to more than 15,000, let alone other art forms . Ironically, only one more individual can rival that claim, and that is Jesus - the Christ. In the iconic Ford museum in Washington DC, where Lincoln eventually met the assassin’s bullet, there is a 34 foot tower (picture attached) erected in memory of his life and death. At first glimpse, the tower would seem odd, but one quickly realizes its entire structure is made of metal replicas of front covers of books written on Lincoln. A little placard placed nearby announces that 6800 books are represented so far in the column, only a fraction of the total written with more to come. When I saw this tower for the first time in Febr

Jottings : slice of life - 60 ( Transformation of Paper money in India - Bold stroke by a Bold man) A system can be only as good as its practitioners want it to be. This is the fundamental truth to be understood in a democracy. First thing immigrants learn when they land in a Western country is the implicit respect for basic rules and processes they find there. It cuts across all sections of society. Also, what they are normally surprised to find is that people dont grumble , fret or fume about such rules. They follow it joyfully, effortlessly with conscientious participation. Now, We are not talking obtuse, debatable laws of equality, rights and liberalism - over which there will always be contending sides. What are we talking about is simple rules of living in the midst of other people, and making democracy function effectively on a day to day basis. It is often funny to observe when an Indian goes to India on vacation , after say three or four years of stay in the US, he or she

Jottings : Slice    of Life -59 ( Ernest Hemmingway - master of the narrative form) On a beautiful summer evening on July 2 1962, Ernest Hemmingway, walked down to the basement of his farm house in Idaho, pulled out his favorite shot gun - oiled, cleaned it; bought it up to his living room; sat down facing his large window that opened up to the acres of wavy farmland, put the barrel to his head and shot himself. The literary world, friends and critics, fans, his wife weren't in the least bit surprised or shocked. If there was a way Hemmingway was going to die, it was to be through his own hand, by his own means and only in this manner. For a man who lived his life at its very edge, no other kind of death would have done him justice. Suicide was the violent climax his genius persistently craved for, or could have accepted with dignity. Quietly, after few days of cursory investigation and a nod from his wife, the coroner declared his death to be “accidental” and closed the file o

Jottings : Slice   of life - 58 ( Donald trump - a good victory) A most commendable victory for Donald trump. Against all possible odds, with entire political establishment, including the party he represents vehemently undermining his credibility, his own instinctual actions and comments almost overwhelming his political future - Trump has won a clear victory, not even a close battle by any standard of measure. His victory reminded me of an odd analogy. In india, we still have few old doctors who can diagnose one’s ailment by merely feeling the pulse, and not having to order and analyze elaborate medical tests to fathom what is wrong in your system. In a similar sense, trump was able to gauge the pulse of modern America and know exactly what they wanted. He may not have been the most informed, savvy, and intellectual idealist we expect our Leaders to be; but he knew what his people wanted out of this election, just as Modi did. He knew his own idiosyncratic antics will have no bear

The story of NIIT is the story of legends. For over three decades, if there is one defining principle which runs through like a golden thread weaving together different strands of business and practices into one coherent whole - it the quality of its leaders at the very top of the pyramid. There are handful of them, not more - but in them lies encapsulated NIIT’s philosophy, vision and dreams. It my privilege to write few words commemorating Rajan - recipient of this year’s Global leadership award . I remember my first visit to our Atlanta office, on a cold January morning nearly ten years ago. I was carrying a parcel for him from India. It was impossible not to have heard of Rajan , before coming here. Legends has a curious way of percolating across an organization colored and painted in different hues. Obviously, expectations were high, and a sense of trepidation followed me as well. How would he relate to me? Would he fit in the picture I had in mind? After all, I had met my man

Jottings : Slice of life - 56 Look at this “Kolam” ( a traditional form of drawing) very carefully. What will strike one almost immediately is the geometrical precision of its execution. Its hypnotic structure captivating in its symmetry. The lines so firm, the edges fluted, careful strokes in color interwoven in definitive patterns, which makes sense once drawn - but in the mind of its artist it would have remained a fluid vision, bursting out like a flower out of nowhere and blooming and gasping towards perfection as the hand draws out its intricate patterns in one spontaneous movement of harmony between mind and body. This drawing is not by a twenty year old or a forty year old artist, but by our octogenarian aunt, the eldest in the family living in Palani, Tamilnadu. Frail of body, strong willed, articulate, she has spent every moment of her adult life in this little town - renowned as a place of pilgrimage, living within its conservative traditions, serving her late Husband