Category: Flawsophy

  • Lovestrong

    Slightly dated in the context of real time, but I thought this was a pertinent read in the Armstrong era. It’s titled “Honesty of the long-distance runner” and is about a Spanish runner Iván Fernández Anaya. He was running second in a race he had no chance of winning when he saw race leader Abel Mutai pull up about 10 meters before the finish, thinking he had already crossed the line. Instead of exploiting the situation, he let the Kenyan win using gestures to communicate. He thought it was the fair thing to do. He also candidly said that if a Eur/World medal was at stake, he’d probably have done things differently.

    I saw this poster at gaping void, related to  purpose, but twisted it a bit in this context. It isn’t as though there aren’t things we love to do. As we move further in life, we learn more about the way life works. Sometimes these things we love make business sense, sometimes they don’t or requires either stellar talent or more hard work than we are willing to put in. Some of us work at it, some of us lock the love away and some of us decide to find an easy way out. And thus it is that even things which involve love and passion – sports and arts – have been converted into competitions and ruthless economically viable phenomena. So really, where does the corruption begin?

    until next time, strong-armed

  • Fence sitting

    It’s easy to guess the book from where this has been taken. I started reading it only recently. (yes, yes, give me a painful death) “Others dwelt here before… and others will dwell here again…” is pretty timeless, but I was more fascinated by the line after that “The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out.“

    To an almost ‘asocial’ like me, fencing myself in has been an escape route that I use more often than not. It’s also why this is one of my favourite songs

    But of late, I am not sure how much fencing oneself in works, especially since the world will find a way to intrude. Probably a sign that I’m getting old, or at least older! In fact, attempts at it become a struggle, one that serves no purpose. That’s probably why most people don’t treat it as black & white, and get by with occasional forays into their fenced-in world.

    until next time, keep fencing

  • Of fame and purpose

    I completely missed Bigg Boss 6. Except for knowing that the arrested-for-sedition cartoonist and Sapna Bhavnani were participants, my exposure to it was limited to lunch conversations at office, where two of my friends seemed to be avid followers. 🙂 I thought my ignorance was only fair, since they are usually clueless when I mention the names of micro-celebrities on Twitter.

    Increasingly, I am realising that popular culture is going through massive fragmentation. The above was an example. I think this generation is connected with more people than any before it. It has always been so, with better means of communication, but this time, it has been an explosion. We’re still coping with the overload, or filter-failure, as Clay Shirky calls it. Despite social networks, or probably because of them and their algorithms, we miss out on many things.

    I was thinking of all this in the context of fame. Fame, to me, has some connection with my favourite subject these days – purpose. Fame can serve as a means, or end, or a by product of purpose. The thing is, with the fragmentation I mentioned earlier, fame probably has to be redefined, also because its shelf life has been drastically reduced. Once upon a time, a name/photo appearing in a newspaper was an achievement. (let’s ignore the notoriety piece 🙂 ) Later, before channels mushroomed, it was television. But now….

    One of the things that might happen because of all this is the gradual de-linking of fame and purpose, if it does exist. I’m still trying to figure out how that will shift our perspectives on purpose.

    until next time, being famous ain’t what it used to be…

  • I, the responsible

    …and the poor poor girl died earlier in the day I wrote this. Given the delay between my writing posts, and them getting published here, we should have collectively moved on from the issue by now, at least in terms of mind space and media space- mainstream as well as trending topics.

    Much, much has been written about the issue – the male/female/Indian/ NRI/feminist/opportunist/armchair activist/ weekend activist/ ‘I was there to protest’ perspective, and these were only some examples – slice and dice any way you like and you’d find a voice that spoke on behalf of the piece you carved. Like this.

    Much as I abhor what happened, I see it (rape) only as one symptom of the disease we all have – our own malformed sense of justice. Probably one of the worst symptoms, but not the only one. Injustice is injustice, and it varies by degrees only on the basis of our own perspectives of right and wrong. It happens everyday – talking on the mobile phone while driving/riding, fudging tax forms, making the maid plead for a salary raise, bribing a cop, drinking and driving because you have assured yourself that you are still in control… ask your conscience, you’ll come up with many more. No, I’m not really confusing it with breaking the law – here’s an example. Five hundred times you speak on the phone while driving and nothing happens, but nothing stops the five hundred and first time being the instance that maims someone for life, and leaving him/her bereft of limbs, and perhaps dignity. Ask that person which is a larger crime – what happened to him or a gang rape – the answer should not be surprising. Every action/inaction that affects the dignity of another person, that shows another person that one can get away with breaking the law, that walks the grey area between absolute right and wrong in however minute a way, is injustice in some form.  And in this daily, casual, personal #theekhai attitude to justice lie the seeds of every horrible act of injustice. Any kid watching this today and seeing the perpetrator walk away scot free will imagine he can get away with a bigger crime. And so it grows, and morphs into multi-thousand crore scams and gang rapes further down the chain. A bit like the broken windows theory.

    Granted that an elected government has among its duties the responsibility of ensuring the protection of its citizens. Should we protest if they do not? Of course, but that does not absolve me of my obligation, nor does it free me of the nagging thought that as a race, our notion of justice is based on convenience. Sometimes I wonder if the birth of laws in society was a response to the slow death of justice within human beings.

    So yes, I am the privileged who can update my Facebook status, and move on with my life. I am responsible and there’s nothing I can do about it. Before I casually judge others, I have to wonder if I have the moral authority to do so. After all, I only vary by degrees.

    (image via gaping void)

    until next time, </justice>

  • A picture to go with me

    Something in Mishi Saran’s ‘The Other Side of Light’ made me think of a visual that would accompany me on the final journey. I’m not really a painting kind of person, so it’d probably be a photograph.

    A photograph that captured my life in one still moment, or my soul itself. Something that was much more than a thousand words. Something that only I understood and could connect with, so its existence beyond my own would be meaningless.

    For now, I don’t think I have a photograph like that. Or perhaps each photo, when I look back at it, is as much the deserving one as another. Each one, a different me, real and alive at that point in time, reduced to memory soon as it is captured.

    until next time, transience