Tag: Books

  • Irascible

    In Nayantara Sahgal’s “This Time of Morning” (review later), there is an episode (p 247- 250) where one of the characters recollects the first time he had seen the British’s Divide and Rule policy in action, in the context of religion.

    To summarise, towards the end of 1919, a Swami Satyanand, who had a reputation for his protests and fiery speeches against the British, and was a hero figure in all communities, once began a speech on the steps of the Juma Mosque in Allahabad. He said he had chosen the location because he wanted to emphasise that the name of the faith didn’t matter. With the mullah standing behind him, he began to speak of the messages in the Bhagvad Gita as a rapt crowd listened. The policemen arrived suddenly, and even as the Swami kept saying that the police were ‘our’ brothers and the crowd should stand still, he was attacked, finally collapsing beneath the arch. The mullah wept as he was carried inside, and later, when he came out to announce that the swami was dead.

    The next day, the English dailies carried the news that the Swami had died at the Juma Mosque and insinuated that the Swami had deliberately tried to incite the Muslim community and had died as a result. It also chose to emphasise that mutual seclusion was the only way to peace among the communities, and this was what the government was trying to do. The regional dailies were warned against carrying the news at all. And though Muslims and Hindus joined the procession which ended with the Swami’s pyre being lit by the mullah, none of the dailies covered it.

    The book is a work of fiction though historical figures also play minor roles. But many incidents and scenarios are based on real events, and the above incident seems highly possible. It made me realise that the only perspective we can derive of the events that happened then are from newspaper reports and in some cases, journals/books written by people who lived then. But the latter is not so easy to find, and we mostly rely on the former.

    I read this book during the time that Mr.Sibal was making his infamous censorship statements, and the internet began its #outrage. (Yes, I did 2) The above episode gave me a glimpse of what the internet has achieved in terms of documenting data and what we, and the generations to follow, would be missing out, if censorship came to life. Thankfully, even George W Bush has said “You can’t put democracy and freedom back into a box” 🙂

    until next time, Jaise Har Ek Baat Pe Democracy Me Lagne Lag Gaya Ban 🙂

  • Teary I

    I’ve been told that I used to bawl when I was very young. One oft told story is how I used to be especially crabby during powercuts, which, before television serials, was how Kerala got its families to sit together. But, back to my serial rage. Apparently, hand held fans were beneath me, and to shut me up, dad had to take a room in the nearby hotel, which had a generator!!

    I think I redeemed myself fairly well in later childhood by becoming non-fussy and reducing the volume (in terms of sound) of my teary escapades, until I had a silent sobbing mechanism. Pain was the only thing that overrode this, but I remember that in college, during a particularly painful accident, with a half broken jaw and a doctor literally pushing back four of my front teeth  into the gums, I figuratively gritted my teeth and didn’t cry out loud. But I think, instinctively I might still cry out if I am not prepared.

    What made me think of all this? My observations of how adults and children had different crying habits. My recent trips to Kerala mostly meant a lot of time in hospitals, which, because of an atmosphere of fear and pain, are unfortunately ‘crying catalysts’. I thought of the last time that I had cried, not counting the random poignant moments (music, movies, books, thoughts) that bring unconscious tears. It was about a year back, when one rain induced skid at night was the last straw in making me feel that the cosmos was playing out a terrible conspiracy against me. The tears would have fallen for less than a minute, mixing freely with the rain pouring down my face. Maybe I was giving myself the option of believing that I really hadn’t cried at all. Heh. 🙂

    But what actually sparked even those observations were the words I read in Neal Stephenson’s Quicksilver

    Some say that crying is childish…. Crying loudly is childish, in that it reflects a belief, on the cryer’s part, that someone is around to hear the noise, and come a-running to make it all better. Crying in absolute silence..is the mark of a mature sufferer who no longer nurses, nor is nursed by any such comfortable delusions.

    Do you still cry, silently, when no one’s watching? What’s your delusion? 🙂

    until next time, the blog’s name has a ‘cry’ in it. sigh.

  • The Uncertainty Principles

    Not the quantum theory kind. Sometime back I read this interesting post on HBR on uncertainty, which made me think about my relationship with the concept. I must admit that I have more than a little affection for certainty. That is exhibited in most of everything I do – from my routine to travel itineraries to life planning. It also manifests in relationships – not just with people, but even services like Twitter. 🙂 It is probably a bit about control, and a bit about not having to waste what I consider premium currency – time.

    In the post, Tony Schwartz states that

    It feels good to know things for sure. It makes us feel safer, at least in the short term. But certainty has its limitations. Very rarely, I’ve discovered, is certainty the outgrowth of careful consideration and deep understanding. Far more often, it’s a primitive instinct — a way we defend against uncertainty, which understandably feels unsettling and even dangerous.

    I really can’t disagree with that, though I think that sometimes it’s an individual’s conscious choice. The sad part is that the automaton inside us usually makes this choice for us. Further in the article, he also adds a neurological perspective on why we are pulled to certainty, and then “Above all, certainty kills curiosity, learning, and growth.” And that’s the part that I am ironically, unsure of. My take is that if I am certain about a set of things, I am able to focus on, and do better in another set of things.

    Devdutt Pattanaik’s ‘The Pregnant King’ was an excellent read, and though it was the story of Yuvanshva, the king gives birth to a son after drinking a magic potion meant for his wives, it is also about the nature of the world and the fluidity of dharma among other things. There are a few interesting statements in it, if I consider it from the uncertainty context.

    In an argument with Pisachas, Yuvanshva states that “every civilisation needs its delusion” and we don’t take kindly to things that “threaten the facade of order”. I think that would hold for individuals who prefer certainty too. In another conversation between Yuvanshva and the Angirasa, there is a meaning given to the existence of this world,

    When all is understood and accepted, the world will lose its purpose and cease to be. The world exists only to make us wise. Ignorance fuels pain and from pain comes our search for wisdom.

    But my favourite is in the form of two diametrically opposite approaches to the purpose of life that comes earlier in the book – Yaja and Upayaja, two Siddhas who never agreed on anything, yet ended up taking the same decisions.

    Yaja sat under a banyan tree and sought truth in stillness. Upayaja always sat before a waterfall and sought truth in movement. Yaja said, “By observing the flow of rasa, one can train the mind to accept destiny. This is the purpose of life. Upayaja argued, “By manipulating the flow of rasa, one can change the world and fructify all desires. That’s the true purpose of life.”

    Though Upayajya’s argument might seem in favour of certainty, I’d say that both are versions of the same story – embracing uncertainty. And thus, another lesson from the book springs to mind “The truth is not poison. It is our inability to handle it that makes it poisonous” The same goes for uncertainty too… I guess 🙂

    until next time,

  • Stop. Watch.

    Playing music on the mobile as you drift to sleep is probably nothing new. I’m sure many people do it. The snag of course is managing to switch it off before you sleep. You could create a list and make sure it stops after x number of songs, but there’s some joy to be found in random shuffling. There’s probably an app somewhere that will somehow manage it, but I haven’t found it yet. What I would like is something that will sense my breathing pattern and switch off, but that might be wishing for too much 🙂

    ‘The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying’ brings up an interesting point, when it discusses sleep in the context of death and the state of consciousness. It asks

    How many of us are aware of the change in consciousness when we fall asleep? Or of the moment of sleep before dreams begin? How many of us are aware even when we dream that we are dreaming?

    From the music example, it is easy to guess that I certainly am not. In fact, my experiment on this failed too, as I completely lost track during a conscious attempt to ‘know’ the moment I fell asleep. I then realised that I should perhaps try being ‘conscious’ while I am awake without flowing from thought to thought unconsciously, especially since D is not very encouraging about me trying to sleep more. 😐

    Try recollecting the last 15 minutes minute by minute, and you’ll sense the unconsciousness 🙂

    until next time, asleep yet?

  • Creature Comforts

    By sheer coincidence, the only two Stephen King books I’ve read are “Under the Dome” and Needful Things. They’re separated by a decade and a half (publication) and so, I was surprised to see a massive similarity in the themes – strange things happening in a town and then the focus shifts to human transactions, motivations and the good/evil within us. In the earlier book, it was a new shop and its proprietor  that played havoc, in the later one, it’s an indestructible dome.

    When I discussed this with a few friends, I was told that this was not surprising and there were more books with that broad theme, and many authors repeated their themes regularly. These authors and their books are bestsellers too, which means a lot of people like this arrangement?

    I have vaguely sensed this in music too – from MLTR to Bon Jovi to Bryan Adams to (even sometimes) Rahman, there seems to be a basic tune which is rendered differently at different times and released as a new track, and it sells. Which does make me wonder if even in these so-called hobbies, many of us have become creatures of habit, just like most other spheres of life – including food, people and so on. Comforts are easy that way, keeps the mind away from thinking. Of course, it could be subjective, and you could be on autopilot on some things, and not on others.

    Meanwhile, all this is not to say that others, who are always pushing themselves out of the zone, can get all judgmental about it, but I do wonder whether its a conscious decision to stick to a comfort zone, an inability to break out of it, or not even realising you’re in one. Etymologically, ‘comfort’ means ‘make someone stronger’, but by building that fort around the self, do we become stronger or weaker in the face of life?

    until next time, comfort knocks