Category: Flawsophy

  • Juley

    In my mind, I can still hear that Ladakhi greeting, though its been a few days since our return from Leh. There are stories of mountains and mountains of stories I could tell you. Of the trip that almost didn’t start because the taxi service got the day and month right, and booked us a cab for 2010!! Of the Delhi weather which over delivered on the warm welcome premise at 40 deg C.

    Of the jovial captain of the Leh flight, who said that one third of our trip cost would be ‘made up’ by the first view of Leh. Of him being proven right by a sight so magical that one could hear a collective gasp as the lofty snowy peaks were seen for the first time through the windows. Of the mountains that for one moment looked the magnificent phenomena they were, and in another looked like clay models that kids made for school exhibitions.  Of another statement the captain delivered on – a free camel ride, he called it – the landing at the Kushok Bakula Rimpoche Airport.

    Of being on a high already and wondering whether one would be hit by the much written about high altitude sickness. Of being phlegmatic while popping pills and drinking bitter cough syrup at the first sign of phlegm. Of wandering through streets where tiny wrinkled old people chanted with prayer wheels in hand, and the next generation listened to heavy metal and peddled rock bands’ skull tees. Of wandering up mazes to see the ruins of the old palace and then lazing in the relatively palatial comforts of the hotel. Of waking up at dawn and setting out on journeys in which every view was click worthy, of getting tired of clicking and relying on the video mode far too much, even as the mind captured images. Of the visit to the gurudwara, where one was caught between the twin pleasures of the awesome sweet tea and the warmth from the cup.

    Of gazing at the mighty river that spawned a civilisation, and wondering how much has changed for the nomadic tribes that live in tents and roam about with their Dzo (a hybrid of yak and cow). Of the noisy rush of air as one climbed up mountains to gompas (monasteries) that awed you with their silence. Of glass cases that carefully and lovingly stored centuries old manuscripts and a realisation of the tiny timeframe of six years of blogging. Of the excitement of staying in a tent, quickly followed by the realisation of how exactly one could feeze to death, and then feeling an intense thankfulness for one’s supple and warm bed companion, despite the rubbery exterior -the hot water bag.

    Of boarding passes that got you to 35000 ft in no time, and mountain passes at half the height that made you crawl for almost three hours to get to them. Of being driven up narrow mountain roads, slipping on snow every now and then, and wondering if your final destination was going to be up or down. Of pitying the military guys who lived in the severe cold, and then muttering at them for making decisions that cost us an entire day. Of creating yellow snow after getting tired of holes in the ground and portable loos that cleared up the blocked sinuses in no time!! Of seeing a lake at 13500 ft- Pangong, shared by two countries, that competed with the sky for the shades of blue that could be displayed. Of a heavy snow fall that forced one to get out of the comforts of the push back seats in the vehicle and attempt to push the vehicle, which pushed back!! Of the disappointment of knowing that nature took only a few minutes to shatter one’s well laid plans. Of begging and pleading and cajoling cops to let us through after the official closing time.

    But most importantly, of the wonderful wonderful person who took it upon himself to make sure that we got to see all the sights we wanted to – Tsewang. He, who confessed after much questioning, that he was having his first meal of the day at 3 pm after driving 9 straight hours through horrible conditions at altitudes above 14000 ft.  And then proceeded to drive up to Khardung La, the world’s highest motorable road at 18380 ft-  all in a day’s work, he said. Nothing I said or did could assuage my guilt.

    The long journeys through the mountainscape pushed random thoughts into my head- of heaven, and whether living at such high altitudes meant that one was closer to God. 🙂 Of whether the milieu that nature offered in these places instilled the compassion and concern for fellow humans, that I saw in many around, and if that was the secret behind the peaceful and happy faces, despite the hard conditions and lack of even common facilities in several places. The great heights and its citizens gave me perspectives and a sense of harmony that I still seem to be carrying with me, hoping that the daily grind won’t take it away.

    As I looked at Leh before I stepped into the airplane, I realised that this might be the only time I’d visit this place. I also realised that perhaps my memories would fade, and I might forget the images I could now easily recollect in my mind. But I like to think that there’s one picture that will never go away – the lofty peaks of the mighty Himalayas, glistening with snow, and a light breeze that causes the flags at the monastery to flutter silently, all of this can only make up the background for the innocent, peaceful joy on Tsewang’s face as he plays with the Lama kids, and as he sees me approaching, he  asks me with his customary smile, if I’m ready to continue the journey.

    until next time, a daily lama

    PS. You can catch a few photos here.

    collage1

  • Moult

    Two new malayalam movies watched in a fortnight. Nothing special in that, you’d think. What does make it special is that they brought back characters from the past.

    “2 Harihar Nagar”, the official sequel to a movie, after 19 years, has four characters who’d set a benchmark in comedy at that time. [Priyadarshan, as he regularly does with decent Malayalam movies, screwed it up in Hindi as Dhol]  Handled by a capable director and an extremely good screenplay, these guys managed to pick up right where they left off. They had us in splits this time too, and add to that, sprinkles of nostalgia and some good suspense, this movie was a treat. It was amazing to watch their chemistry, intact, or perhaps rekindled, after so many years, more so, because their ‘image’ has changed quite some in the years that have passed. A couple of them play character and villain roles now, and popular ones at that; one had some time in the limelight, even being anointed the “common man’s hero”, before making an idiot of himself in inconsequential roles and TV shows, and the last flirts with the screen once in a while. But what we saw in the movie was a transformation, and a pleasant surprise.

    “Sagar alias Jackie”, the director claims, is not a sequel to any film, but merely  uses the hero (and one more character) of an earlier one. On hindsight, that makes a damn good disclaimer. The original movie ‘Irupatham noottandu’, made in 1987, starring Mohanlal as an enigmatic ‘smuggler with a conscience’ , was one that in no small way contributed to his rising stature in the industry. Over the years he has proved his acting skills time and again, until recently. These days he is more of star, and scripts pander to this. He is easily the best actor I’ve seen, and though I used to be a fan of the superhuman avatar in the initial days, when it used to be backed by excellent screenplays, these days his roles are quite indistinguishable from each other. More stylised, this one proved to be the same fare, unfortunately.

    Both scripts used the equity of iconic characters. While one set of actors broke their current moulds, and recaptured the feel of their original characters, another actor was caught in a mould and couldn’t come close to the original character. One could argue that the scripts made the difference, but maybe the difference was in acting, and one set proved better because they stayed true to character, and the portrayal automatically fell into place?

    It made me think whether this also applies to us too. Over a period of time, do some of us get cast in a ‘have to be’ mould, arising from others’ and self expectations, or a ‘want to be’ mould because of our own aspirations? Do these moulds take us away from what we originally are, is there an original mould, and would reclaiming it and living with it give us the joy we seek? The choice is an intriguing one.

    until next time, casting lots with the self

  • Stairway to heaven

    A few days back, I came across a line we had used some time back for a brand campaign, as part of some ambient advertising – “Let’s cut climbing stairs, but not climbing ladders”. That ended up prompting quite a surreal thought.

    Of starting to climb a ladder from the time we’re kids. The first few rungs seem easy, there’s someone helping you, and you know that the same someone is there to catch you when you fall. There are others who are climbing ladders too, your friends, some of whom keep up with you while others choose a faster or slower pace. There are those who will leap, knowing all about high risks and huge rewards. There are those who know exactly how much of effort is required to reach where they want to be, and there are those who are unsure, but still know they’ve to climb.

    At some point, when you have climbed quite a bit, you pause to look.  You might realise that the support you had in the beginning is gone, and perhaps replaced with another one. You would look up, perhaps you now know where you have to go, and the steps and pace required to get there. Or you would look down, and see how far you’ve come up. Or you would look sideways, at friends, family, peers who have been climbing too, you might be tempted to compare and consider your efforts and results against what theirs.

    And then perhaps you would just close your eyes, take a deep breath and look within – at what you have, and what you want to have. Maybe you’ll find yourself dissatisfied and might want to climb a bit more. Or you’ll decide that you quite like the place you’re at, and this is as good a final destination as there can be, you’ll choose to enjoy the view from where you are and perhaps help those who haven’t been able to climb as much as you have, or those who want to climb higher than you have. Maybe you would decide to climb a bit more and then decide.

    The choice would be yours. After all, its your ladder, and your climb, and the top rung is where you decide it will be. The only thing you really don’t know is the journey time.

    until next time, an alarm rung….

  • Siddhartha

    Herman Hesse

    Somewhere in Pankaj Mishra’s ‘The Romantics’, there’s a conversation about ‘Siddhartha’ and it being a reason for a Westerner’s interest in Buddhism and India. A conversation, not my view 🙂 That, and the fact that it also finds mention in Mishra’s other book ‘An End to suffering’ is primarily what led me to the book.
    The book is best described as the story of an alternate version of the Buddha, and the Buddha features in the story too, including a conversation.
    The message is perhaps like a quote I read somewhere, which amounts to “There are many ways to the top of the mountain, but once there, the view is the same”
    The arguments are compelling, and makes you think, not just about the end, but also about the ways in which you get there. I especially liked the thoughts on the concept of time, the ‘goal vision’ obscuring everything else, and ‘the opposite of every truth is also true’.
    Forget Buddhism, it is an excellent read on life, what we strive for, and my favourite paradox – the meaningfulness and the meaninglessness of our existence.

  • One of an unkind 😐

    We met an acquaintance when we’d gone for a movie last weekend. During the interval, he bought two large  colas – one for him and his wife, and one for us. For reasons I considered valid (only one of which was that I considered the thing addictive and didn’t want to tempt myself at the beginning of the summer) I had to say no – a thanks but.. polite no at first to a curt no finally. When the movie ended, he walked out, one cola stilled clutched, and a sheepish smile thrown at us. I felt very uncomfortable, more so because I didn’t really know him and didn’t explain to him why i said no. I had, with my silence, rebuffed, what was a nice gesture from him.

    I hurried back to catch ‘Boston Legal’, and it was as though the cosmos wanted to rub it in. One of the cases under trial in the episode was that of a sorority expelling a member because she was socially awkward. The interesting part was that lawyers on both sides were essentially very nice people…. with personality disorders. Jerry, who appears on behalf of the sorority president has Asperger syndrome, and uses another personality to overcome his awkwardness and Clarence, who appears for the defendant, has multiple personalities, each of which is a defense against more aggressive people. Though I supported the member – Marcie Cooper, who I felt was wronged, I found Jerry’s closing extremely touching

    College is also about preparing students for the outside world. Last time I checked, it’s pretty tough out there. There’s the old adage, “Nice guys finish last.” There’s some truth to that. I happen to know opposing counsel is a fundamentally kind man. Sensitive. He chose to exploit my Asperger’s syndrome to win this case.

    My very best friend, a lawyer I had a case against not too long ago, he, too, exploited my Asperger’s. He’s a very good man, who opted for cruelty as a strategy.

    If Marcie Cooper comes out of this experience thinking that people can be cruel—even the kind, sensitive
    ones—if she’s learned that she will be judged not simply on merit, or the content of her character, but on how she looks and socializes with others, she’s gotten an education, one that will serve her in life. This is a free society. People get to choose their friends, clubs get to choose their members. Sometimes it’s very ugly and unfair. That’s . . . life.

    And I could imagine how the kind sensitive ones could be cruel. Perhaps its the result of a majority of humanity taking advantage of their kindness and sensitivity, or being insensitive to it, or trampling their kind acts and emotions in the races they run, or laughing at what would be deemed their idiocy.

    And I wondered- in educating children for life, will parents have enough time and patience for teaching their children the importance of being humane, while still instilling in them the smartness that would enable them to know when someone takes advantage of them? Or will they choose the easy way out and teach them to be rude, to unfairly demand, to snatch by might irrespective of right? And create a race of inhuman beings who wouldn’t spare a thought for those who are perhaps not as strong as them – physically, emotionally or in terms of social skills.

    I’m no angel, but i try to prevent my own unkindness. I usually ask myself “how would I feel in the other person’s shoes”, but there are some situations when for some reason, I cannot adhere to my own rule. I feel very guilty on such occasions, because I feel that through that act I might have started a chain. Someday soon, I hope to make it up to that acquaintance, for I am sorry. I truly am.

    until next time, transactions in kind