2012 will rock

Time for my random musings for the new year.

Let me begin with Kun Faya Kun. I tuned into the song quite late; however, I've been making amends by listening to it 20 times or more each day. I'm beginning to think that Rahman took every other step in his journey so that he can keep delivering Sufi songs to us. Had he not, at a young age, found new energy in a spiritual guide who followed Sufism, would his music have found its strength? And how much would modern Indian music have lost in the process?
The phrase Kun Faya Kun is straight from the Quran. It means: "Be. And it is." In the holy book, this phrase alludes to the power of God to will the universe into existence merely by imagining it. But perhaps there's another meaning here: that we - by which I mean puny humans like you and I - too can create any result in our lives merely by declaring our resolve to do so. In other words, we're prophets, all of us, and every time we generate a thought and back it up with actions, we will achieve the desired results. Perhaps that's one of the reasons we're supposed to seek the divine amongst our fellow beings. We may never know if we're made in His image, but we've been given the power to lead our dream lives.
Kun Faya Kun.


Half an hour before my plane descended into Bhubhaneswar, we crossed the Eastern ghats. From 36000 feet above MSL, I saw a veil of morning mist lift itself off a hoary series of mountains, each resembling the other to a shocking degree, as if seen from the proper vantage point, the world has a perfect design. No human eye can punch a hole in this tapestry, apparently.
Below me, to my immediate east, I also saw a cloud cover so uniform and vast that it looked like the salt pans of the Rann of Kutch. On this soft feathery bed of altocumulus clouds (I'm guessing), I could see shadows of cirrocumulus clouds that were hovering far above it. God, it seemed, had breakfasted well this Tuesday morning and was in the mood to create beauty and tranquillity.
The same evening, I heard on TV that Cyclone Thane was all set to hit the eastern coast. Landfall was supposed to be on the southern tip of AP. As it turned out, Puducherry and Cuddalore were the worst hit. I couldn't help but think about the tsunami. More specifically, I thought of the forlorn look worn by NH-45A from Puducherry all the way to Thirukkadaiyur. And the devastation that I witnessed in the village of Kuttiandiyur was something else altogether. Brr.
Let's move on to happy thoughts this new year.


Have you ever had chenna poda? If you've even heard of this dish, chances are that you'd have also heard an Oriya passionately claim ownership of that prince amongst sweets - the Rosagulla. If you thought the sweet originated in West Bengal, this article will make you think again:
Kling Canoes At Tamralipta
It's written by a Sengupta. And endorsed by another Sengupta (my friend Pat). And since two knowledgeable Bengalis have accepted that the Oriyas invented the sweet, I now consider the matter closed :P
Why this neither-here-nor-there topic? Because my daughter is half-Oriya and I must get ultra-familiar with elements that constitute the Oriya pride. And believe you me, a typical Oriya would sooner disown the Kalinga empire than lose ownership of the Rosagulla!
Incidentally, I feel distraught that my daughter's best friend will relocate to Mumbai for the next academic year. Must our children experience such a loss at such a young age? Anyway, happy thoughts. I clicked a lot of pics of the two girls together. Perhaps in the advanced digital age, they'd reconnect 20 years later and be more connected than today.


Did you hear about all the hoopla surrounding Sachin's 100th ton? You did? Well, that's because our performance Down Under has been dismal and we don't have much else to talk about. Had we performed superbly, well in that case, things would be different - we'd then hear about all the hoopla surrounding Sachin's 100th ton. What? That's just the same? Huh. How about that?
By the way, anybody wants to bet on another miraculous win at Perth?


Finally, let me describe a hypothetical scenario:
Suppose you're leading a project. A few people are assisting you in its implementation. You're allowed to make use of their skills, but you have been given no power to dominate them. No matter how badly they fare, you cannot blame them, get angry at them, put them down or bribe them. In other words, you can offer them neither carrots nor sticks. All you can do is be there for them, keep working with them and ask them, through your actions, to reconsider their attitudes even as you reconsider yours. End of the day, if you fail to produce results, your boss will ask you why you failed to inspire them.
Does this model sound too harsh? Does it have too many constraints?
Well, if you lead your life the way you're asked to lead this project, it will become extraordinary. It's just an idea. I'm requesting you to chew on it.


Have a fantabulous 2012, everybody. This year is gonna rock.

A sitcom round-up

Apologies for the prolonged hiatus, especially to my mysterious readers from Russia, Latvia, Canada, Australia, the Netherlands, Germany, Nigeria and Belize. You hit my blog on a regular basis, but I have no idea who you are. I wish I did. Anyway, thanks for your interest and silent support.
Why have I been away? Well, I've been on a journey of self-discovery. If that isn't enough of a cliche, I must add that I took one small step this weekend and found my soul taking a giant leap towards sanity. I've looked long and hard at myself and have arrived at some rather unflattering conclusions. Remedial steps are being taken as of now and a better world seems within grasp. With that deliberately cryptic assertion, let me get to the point.

The makeover I'm attempting will require me to cut down on my indulgence in American sitcoms. I'll still sniff in the occasional episode of jest, especially when I need a lighter moment to survive the seemingly choppy sea of Life, but I think I'm done being a worshipper of this modern-age art form.

However, before I call it quits, I feel compelled to document my reflections on each sitcom that has moved me in the past 4.5 years. I will swerve away from this obsession with sitcoms just once, in order to explore a dramatic series called In Treatment.

So the next few posts may not be to the liking of all my readers. Sorry about that. All I can say is that I wouldn't have survived the previous phase of my Life without sitcoms and I want my blog to acknowledge that. And since I'll be reverting to my usual fare of politics, society etc, I hope my regular readers will find it in their hearts to forgive this detour.

Stay tuned please.

Living in the present continuous

Alright, we've all heard about it. Life is bliss in the present continuous.
Time is a ruthless master. It haunts us with memories from the past and threatens us with the uncertainties of the future. But there's a way to subdue this tyrant. Forget the past, don't worry about the future. Just focus on this tiny moment passing you by. Milk it for all it's worth. Make it count. Easier said than done, eh?

Sportspersons are, I think, naturally acquainted with the concept of the present continuous. They call it "being in the zone." Imagine commandeering a F1 car around a curvaceous bend at 180 mph, or hooking a bodyline bouncer from the world's fastest bowler for a six, or blocking an accurate, curling free kick with a sublime dive. These are just a few examples of how sportspersons respond to stimuli with aplomb. How are they able to do in real time what others cannot fathom even in slow-motion? The only explanation is that these "superhumans" are able to dissect time into ever-slimmer slices and then utlise each slice optimally. You might say that, while on the field of play, they're extreme proponents of the present continuous. After all, when you chop the present finely enough, you get the present continuous.

I myself have used this idea extensively in the past four years. When your present sucks, the wise option is to live in the present continuous. I try and follow this dictum whenever negative emotions don't rule over my soul. Of course, the concept is less glamorous when a writer practises it. A writer living in the present continuous frowns upon the parts of speech till the sentence rewrites itself. He focuses on making his fictional character's situation more poignant and only then worries whether the backstory still makes sense. He manifests the most urgent thought on paper and then ponders over where it will fit in. For instance, I wrote this paragraph before beginning the article.

But the hands-down best argument in favour of living in the present continuous was provided by my friend Priyam. As a tireless crusader in an NGO that caters to those suffering from dementia, Priyam helps people who have neither a substantial recollection of the past nor a notion of the future. Dementia subjects seem to live in a time warp, and when treated with sufficient love, care and understanding, these fellow human beings become beacons of wisdom. They teach us the merits of the present continuous.
Now, here's the clincher:
An elderly woman was diagnosed with cancer. She was devastated. She underwent the treatment procedures, but was always sad and bitter. She fretted endlessly about her condition and lamented that her life was finished. A few months later, she was diagnosed with dementia. She kept forgetting herself till she forgot that she had cancer. And just like that, she ceased to worry about that dreadful disease. By the time she entered Priyam's orbit, she was at peace with himself, enjoying life as well as she could. The sentimentalists amongst us might say that she had conquered the disease!

Yea, man. Living in the present continuous rocks.