In Urdu Poetry, Mirza Ghalib is the God himself.
Some of my favorites (excellent compilation exists on http://www.cs.wisc.edu/~navin/india/songs/ghalibindex.html and I am copying a few of my favorites here)
1. dil-e-naadaaN tujhe huaa kya hai ?
aaKHir is dard kee dawa kya hai
2. ham haiN mushtaaq aur woh bezaar
ya ilaahee ! yeh maajra kya hai ?
[ mushtaaq = interested, bezaar = displeased/sick of ]
3. maiN bhee muNh meiN zabaan rakhta hooN
kaash ! poocho ki "muddaa kya hai" ?
hamko unse wafa ki hai ummeed
jo naheeN jaante wafa kya hai
maiNe maana ki kuchch naheeN 'GHalib'
muft haath aaye to bura kya hai ?
aah ko chaahiye ik 'umr asar hone tak
kaun jeeta hai teree zulf ke sar hone tak ?
2. daam har mauj meiN hai halqa-e-sad_kaam-e-nahaNg
dekhaiN kya guzre hai qatre pe guhar hone tak
[ daam = net/trap, mauj = wave, halqa = ring/circle, sad = hundred,
nahaNg = crocadile, sad_kaam-e-nahaNg = crocadile with a hundred
jaws, guhar = pearl ]
3. aashiqee sabr talab aur tamanna betaab
dil ka kya rang karooN KHoon-e-jigar hone tak ?
[ sabr = patience, talab = search ]
4. ham ne maana ke taGHaful na karoge, lekin
KHaak ho jaayeNge ham tumko KHabar hone tak
[ taGHaful = neglect/ignore ]
baazeechaa-e-atfaal hai duniya mere aage
hota hai shab-o-roz tamaasha mere aage
[ baazeechaa = play/sport, atfaal = children ]
aashiq hooN, pe maashooq_farebee hai mera kaam
majnooN ko bura kehti hai laila mere aage
[ farebee = a fraud/cheat ]
teree wafa se kya ho talaafee, ki dahar meiN
tere siwa bhee ham pe bahut se sitam huve
[ talaafee = compensation, dahar = world, sitam = opression ]
bus ki dushwaar hai har kaam ka aasaaN hona
aadmee ko bhee muyassar naheeN insaaN hona
[ dushwaar = difficult, muyassar = possible ]
2. giriya chaahe hai KHaraabee mere kaashaane ki
dar-o-deevaar se Tapke hai bayaabaaN hona
[ giriyaaN = weeping, kaashaana = house, bayaabaaN = wilderness ]
3. waa-e-deewaangee-e-shauq, ke har dam mujhko
aap jaana udhar aur aap hee hairaaN hona
kee mere qatl ke baad usne jafa se tauba
haay us zood_pashemaaN ka pashemaaN hona
[ jafa = oppression, zood = quickly, pashemaaN = ashamed/
embarrassed ]
9. haif us chaar girah kapDe ki qismat 'GHalib'
jis ki qismat meiN ho aashiq ka girebaaN hona
[ haif = alas!, girah = one sixteenth of a yard, girebaaN = collar ]
kitne sheereeN haiN tere lab ! ki raqeeb
gaaliyaaN khaake be_maza na huaa
[ sheereeN = sweet ]
5. hai KHabar garm unke aane kee
aaj hee ghar meiN boriya na huaa !
[ boriya = mat, here it refers to groceries ]
6. kya woh namrood kee KHudaaee thee
bandagee meiN tera bhala na huaa
[ namrood = an old king who used to say that he was god ]
7. jaan dee, dee huee usee ki thee
haq to ye hai ke haq adaa na huaa
dil hee to hai na sang-o-KHisht dard se bhar na aaye kyoN ?
royeNge ham hazaar baar, koee hameiN sataaye kyoN ?
[ sang = stone, KHisht = brick ]
2. dair naheeN, haram naheeN, dar naheeN, aastaaN naheeN
baiTHe haiN rehguzar pe ham, GHair hameiN uTHaaye kyoN ?
[ dair = temple, haram = mosque, dar = gate, aastaaN = abode,
rehguzar = path/way ]
3. jab woh jamaal-e-dil_faroz, soorat-e-meher-e-neem_roz
aap hee ho nazzaara_soz, parde meiN muNh chupaaye kyoN ?
[ jamaal = beauty, faroz = shining/luminous, meher = sun,
neem_roz = mid day, nazzaara_soz = beautiful/worth seeing ]
dil se teree nigaah jigar tak utar gayee
donoN ko ik adaa meiN razaamand kar gayee
2. shaq ho gaya hai seena, KHushee lazzat-e-firaaq
takleef-e-pardaadaari-e-zaKHm-e-jigar gayee
[ shaq = crack/split, firaaq = separation,
pardaadaaree = to hide, esp. fault ]
3. woh baada-e-shabaana kee sar mastiyaaN kahaaN ?
uThiye bas ab ki lazzat-e-KHwaab-e-sahar gayee
[ baada = wine, shabaana = night, sahar = morning ]
yeh zid, ki aaj na aave aur aaye bin na rahe
qaza se shikwa hamaiN kis qadar hai kya kahiye ?
[ qaza = fate/destiny, shikwa = complaint ]
zah-e-karishma ki yoN de rakhaa hai hamko fareb
ki bin kahe hee unhaiN sab KHabar hai, kya kahiye ?
[ zah = child, karishma = wonder/miracle, fareb = deception ]
5. samajh ke karte haiN baazaar meiN woh pursish-e-haal
ki yeh kahe ki sar-e-rehguzar hai, kya kahiye ?
[ pursish = enquiry, sar-e-rehguzar = on the road ]
6. tumhaiN naheeN hai sar-e-rishtaa-e-wafa ka KHayaal
hamaare haath meiN kuchch hai, magar hai kya, kahiye ?
7. unhaiN sawaal pe zoam-e-junooN hai, kyoN laDiye ?
hame jawaab se qata'a-e-nazar hai, kya kahiye ?
[ zoam = pride, junooN = madness/frenzy,
qata'a = break/intercept, qata'a-e-nazar = to ignore ]
8. hasad sazaa-e-kamaal-e-suKHan hai, kya keeje
sitam, bahaa-e-mata'a-e-hunar hai, kya kahiye ?
[ hasad = envy/malice, sitam = oppression, bahaa = value/price,
mata'a = valuables ]
9. kaha hai kisne ki 'GHalib' buraa naheeN lekin
siwaay iske ki aashuftaa_sar hai kya kahiye ?
[ aashuftaa_sar = mentally deranged ]
ho raha hai jahaan meiN andher
zulf kee fir sarishta_daaree hai
[ sarishta_daaree = a regulator's position ]
11. fir kiya paara-e-jigar ne sawaal
ek fariyaad-o-aah-o-zaaree hai
[ paara = fragment ]
12. fir hue haiN gawaah-e-ishq talab
ashq_baaree ka hukm_zaaree hai
[ talab = search/desire/request, ashq_baaree = lamentation ]
GHair leiN mehfil meiN bose jaam ke
ham rahaiN yooN tishna_lab paiGHaam ke
[ bosa = kiss, tishna = thirsty ]
2. KHastagee ka tumse kya shikwa ki ye
hathkanDe haiN charKH-e-neelee_faam ke
[ KHastagee = injury/sickness, shikawa = complaint,
hathkanDe = tactics, charKH = sky, neelee_faam = blue colour/
complexion ]
3. KHat likhenge garche matlab kuchch na ho
ham to aashiq haiN tumhaare naam ke
. raat pee zamzam pe mai aur subh_dam
dhoye dhab'be jaam-e-'eharaam ke
[ zamzam = a well in Kaba whose water is considered holy,
mai = wine, subh_dam = at dawn, 'eharaam = dress for 'haj' ]
5. dil ko aaNkhoN ne fasaaya kya magar
ye bhee halqe haiN tumhaare daam ke
[ halqa = ring/circle, daam = net/trap ]
6. shaah ke haiN GHusl-e-sehat ko KHabar
dekhiye kab din fireiN hammaam ke
[ GHusl = bath, sehat = health, hammaam = a hot bath where a masseur
gives massage and bath ]
7. ishq ne 'GHalib' nikamma kar diya
warna ham bhee aadmee the; kaam ke
yaarab ! wo na samjhe haiN na samjheNge meree baat
de aur dil unko, jo na de mujhko zubaaN aur
3. abroo se hai kya us nigah-e-naaz ko paiwand
hai teer muqarrar magar uskee hai kamaaN aur
[ abroo = eyebrow, paiband = patch ]
4. tum shahar meiN ho to hameiN kya GHam ? jab uTHeNge
le aayenge baazaar se jaakar dil-o-jaaN aur
har ek baat pe kehte ho tum ke 'too kya hai' ?
tumheeN kaho ke yeh andaaz-e-guftgoo kya hai ?
[ guftgoo = conversation ]
2. na shole meiN yeh karishma na barq meiN yeh ada
koee batao ki woh shoKH-e-tund_KHoo kya hai ?
[ barq = lightning, tund = sharp/angry, KHoo = behavior ]
3. yeh rashk hai ki wo hota hai ham_suKHan tumse
wagarna KHauf-e-bad_aamozi-e-adoo kya hai ?
[ rashk = jealousy, ham_suKHan = to speak together/to agree,
KHauf = fear, bad = bad/wicked, aamozee = education/teaching,
adoo = enemy ]
4. chipak raha hai badan par lahoo se pairaahan
hamaaree jeb ko ab haajat-e-rafoo kya hai ?
[ pairaahan = shirt/robe/cloth, haajat = need/necessity,
rafoo = mending/darning ]
5. jalaa hai jicm jahaaN dil bhee jal gaya hoga
kuredate ho jo ab raakh, justjoo kya hai ?
[ justjoo = desire ]
6. ragoN meiN dauDte firne ke ham naheeN qaayal
jab aaNkh hee se na Tapka to fir lahoo kya hai ?
7. woh cheez jiske liye hamko ho bahisht azeez
siwaay baada-e-gul_faam-e-mushkaboo kya hai ?
[ bahisht (or bihisht, both are correct) = heaven, baada = wine,
gul_faam = delicate and fragrant like flowers, mushkaboo = like
the smell of musk ]
8. piyooN sharaab agar KHum bhee dekh looN do chaar
yeh sheesha-o-qadah-o-kooza-o-suboo kya hai ?
[ KHum = wine barrel, qadah = goblet, kooza/suboo = wine pitcher ]
9. rahee na taaqat-e-guftaar, aur agar ho bhee
to kis ummeed pe kahiye ke aarzoo kya hai ?
[ guftaar = speech/discourse ]
10. bana hai shaah ka musaahib, fire hai itaraata
wagarna shehar meiN 'GHalib' kee aabroo kya hai ?
[ musaahib = comrade/associate ]
hazaaroN KHwahishaiN 'eisee ke har KHwahish pe dam nikle
bohot nikle mere armaaN lekin fir bhee kam nikle
2. Dare kyooN mera qaatil kya rahega uskee gardan par
wo KHooN, jo chashm-e-tar se 'umr bhar yooN dam_ba_dam nikle
[ KHooN = blood, chashm = eye, tar = wet, dam_ba_dam = continously ]
3. nikalna KHuld se aadam ka sunte aayaiN haiN lekin
bohot be_aabru hokar tere kooche se ham nikle
[ KHuld = heaven, be_aabaru = disgrace, koocha = street ]
4. bharam khul jaaye zaalim tere qaamat ki daraazee ka
agar is turra-e-pur_pech-o-KHam ka pech-o-KHam nikle
[ daraazee = length/delay, qaamat = stature, turra = an ornamental
tassel worn in the turban, pech-o-KHam = curls in the
hair/complexity ]
5. magar likhwaaye koee usko KHat, to hamse likhawaaye
huee subah aur ghar se kaan par rakhkar qalam nikle
6. huee is daur meiN mansoob mujhse baada_aashaamee
fir aaya wo zamaana, jo jahaaN se jaam-e-jam nikle
[ mansoob = association, baada_aashaamee = association with
drinking ]
7. huee jinse tavaqqo KHastagee kee daad paane kee
wo hamse bhee ziyaada KHasta-e-teGH-e-sitam nikle
[ tavaqqo = expectation, KHastagee = weakness, daad = justice,
KHasta = broken/sick/injured, teGH = sword, sitam = cruelity ]
8. mohabbat meiN naheeN hai farq jeene aur marne kaa
usee ko dekh kar jeete haiN jis kaafir pe dam nikle
9. zara kar jor seene par ki teer-e-pursitam nikle
jo wo nikle to dil nikle, jo dil nikle to dam nikle
10. KHuda ke waaste parda na kaabe se uThaa zaalim
kaheeN 'eisa na ho yaaN bhee wohee kaafir sanam nikle
11. kahaaN maiKHaane ka darwaaza 'GHalib' aur kahaaN waaiz
par itana jaante haiN kal wo jaata tha ke ham nikle
[ waaiz = preacher/advisor ]
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Review: Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham
Honest, heartfelt masterpiece
W. Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage is one of the best novels I have ever read. The language is simple. The narration is subtle. The characters are real and display emotions and feelings everyone can identify with. The power of novel becomes apparent when you are reading it. You choke up every once a while, you smile for hours after you have finished reading certain passages, and you comprehend your own self, your woes and possibilities, better through perspectives that novel provides.
Philip Carey is born with a clubfoot, and as he grows up, orphaned, he struggles with his own deformity. The initial quarter of the novel is about his growing up, and details incidents and relationships that shape our hero. He then develops a fancy of becoming a painter and travels to Paris, only to quit few years later to return to London, where he studies to become a doctor. The most engrossing part of novel starts here with the entry of Mildred, the waitress.
The rest of the novel thrives on the passion of Philip, his love that carries him to the edge of self-destruction, and his coming of age. Unrequited love has never been potrayed better. Philip allows himself to become an instrument in hands of cold-hearted Mildred, who repeatedly ruins herself through absurd choices, and ruins him for not withstanding his love and care, he finds himself snubbed, ridiculed, bereft. Eventhough his reason tells him otherwise, Philip is unable to release himself from his passion for a considerable time. As is said in the novel, "But when all was said the important thing was to love rather than to be loved; and he yearned for Mildred with his whole soul."
The novel is lot more than just story of Philip and Mildred, and there are other unforgettable characters. Each person Philip encounters and each friend he makes, leaves an indelible impression on him and the reader. Be it his idealist friend Hayward, who has too much promise too little product, the poet Cronshaw who dies in poverty, Fenny Price whose hard work cannot make her draw even reasonably well, his uncle and aunt whose love is both tacit and beautifully potrayed and the writer Norah who shows Philip of a caring and loving other.
The most charming people in the novel are Athlneys. Athlney brings life and humor into the novel, and I think saves Philip from a total destruction. The novel really highlights the virtue that lies in a simple, happy married life and Anthlneys win over both Philip and readers with their goodness and simplicity. Thorpe Anthlney with his nine children is a jolly character, and be it his conversations or actions, he wins over our hearts outright.
Philip finds love in most unexpected quarters and is surprised by how help crops up from strangers. His every experience makes him as richer as the reader becomes in reading about it. The thoughts about the meaning of life, or about love or religion or about virtue or vice, and about each aspect of life that Philip encounters are spelt out with a subtlety and mastery. These thoughts find easy resonance with the reader, and make Of Human Bondage an unforgettable affair. The honesty of this piece is stunning. This novel, written without any flourishes and intricate wordplay or mystery, is I think a celebration of the deep insight and understanding of the author.
I have read his other works. The Razor's Edge, The Moon and Six Pence as well as his short stories are a proof of Maugham's ability to tell simple tales with great mastery. These, on their own, make Maugham a great novelist. But it is after reading Of Human Bondage that I realized why most novelists and readers have considered this piece as one the greatest pieces in World Literature. Maugham's aim was perhaps of catharisis and he put his own emotions into the characters, and therefore, he's created a work that is timeless and unforgettable. A must read for everyone who can read.
W. Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage is one of the best novels I have ever read. The language is simple. The narration is subtle. The characters are real and display emotions and feelings everyone can identify with. The power of novel becomes apparent when you are reading it. You choke up every once a while, you smile for hours after you have finished reading certain passages, and you comprehend your own self, your woes and possibilities, better through perspectives that novel provides.
Philip Carey is born with a clubfoot, and as he grows up, orphaned, he struggles with his own deformity. The initial quarter of the novel is about his growing up, and details incidents and relationships that shape our hero. He then develops a fancy of becoming a painter and travels to Paris, only to quit few years later to return to London, where he studies to become a doctor. The most engrossing part of novel starts here with the entry of Mildred, the waitress.
The rest of the novel thrives on the passion of Philip, his love that carries him to the edge of self-destruction, and his coming of age. Unrequited love has never been potrayed better. Philip allows himself to become an instrument in hands of cold-hearted Mildred, who repeatedly ruins herself through absurd choices, and ruins him for not withstanding his love and care, he finds himself snubbed, ridiculed, bereft. Eventhough his reason tells him otherwise, Philip is unable to release himself from his passion for a considerable time. As is said in the novel, "But when all was said the important thing was to love rather than to be loved; and he yearned for Mildred with his whole soul."
The novel is lot more than just story of Philip and Mildred, and there are other unforgettable characters. Each person Philip encounters and each friend he makes, leaves an indelible impression on him and the reader. Be it his idealist friend Hayward, who has too much promise too little product, the poet Cronshaw who dies in poverty, Fenny Price whose hard work cannot make her draw even reasonably well, his uncle and aunt whose love is both tacit and beautifully potrayed and the writer Norah who shows Philip of a caring and loving other.
The most charming people in the novel are Athlneys. Athlney brings life and humor into the novel, and I think saves Philip from a total destruction. The novel really highlights the virtue that lies in a simple, happy married life and Anthlneys win over both Philip and readers with their goodness and simplicity. Thorpe Anthlney with his nine children is a jolly character, and be it his conversations or actions, he wins over our hearts outright.
Philip finds love in most unexpected quarters and is surprised by how help crops up from strangers. His every experience makes him as richer as the reader becomes in reading about it. The thoughts about the meaning of life, or about love or religion or about virtue or vice, and about each aspect of life that Philip encounters are spelt out with a subtlety and mastery. These thoughts find easy resonance with the reader, and make Of Human Bondage an unforgettable affair. The honesty of this piece is stunning. This novel, written without any flourishes and intricate wordplay or mystery, is I think a celebration of the deep insight and understanding of the author.
I have read his other works. The Razor's Edge, The Moon and Six Pence as well as his short stories are a proof of Maugham's ability to tell simple tales with great mastery. These, on their own, make Maugham a great novelist. But it is after reading Of Human Bondage that I realized why most novelists and readers have considered this piece as one the greatest pieces in World Literature. Maugham's aim was perhaps of catharisis and he put his own emotions into the characters, and therefore, he's created a work that is timeless and unforgettable. A must read for everyone who can read.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Meritocracy, neo-casteism, perspiration in Reservation
I am trying to articulate arguments in response to various blogs and comments that have been posted on reservation issue and I will continue to pitch in till the Voice of the Meritorious is heard and understood.
Its remarked that selection of the best in entrance examination is a flawed system, for the "best" is relative, "crammers" select themselves, "richer" people who have access to better facilities and education hold the cards of advantage and the "highest" scorers are not necessarily the best engineers or doctors or businessmen or administrators. This argument, I believe, must be the very argument against reservation as well, for among them too, it is these "richer, cramming bests" who enter the colleges.
We must however never forget that brilliance is not the only criterion for selection in these exams, crude cramming gets you nowhere, "rich" parents can provide better preparation, but outcome is a result of PERSPIRATION, a hard work spread over months, a determination that helps you to do your best and this personal best needs to be GOOD ENOUGH to get you somewhere.
Reservation is my idea of NEO-CASTEISM. Divide and rule. The hypnotic mantra of equality can been beaten to death by communists and socialists. It does not matter if human beings are born with equal physical and mental capabilities, for four thousand years of humanity has seen that it requires perspiration, inspiration, talent, capability and training to become anything better than average. I will not expect people to rise to same level even if they have same facilities available to them. If you don't trust my argument, look at any family and you will see how different the children turn out to be. Mere facilities ensure nothing.
As someone remarked, IITs have a minimal cut-off and there is no reservation for people when they take internal examinations. Brilliant argument. So lets locate statistics and see how these students have fared over last fifty years, for they were "smart" enough to graduate from class. Do the same for people in every medical, engineering and other college, for some people harp on how reservation is just required to get these sections through the door. Do quota people ever do as well as their other counterparts? Those who do, the select few, would do so well without the need of quota. The majority fares badly. Go check the statistics. But it does not matter, for reservation allows these guys to get jobs more easily again. The quality is compromised at admission stage at first, then again at the hiring stage, and then again during the time of promotion. If education can rescue the SC/ST/OBC from their lack of opportunity, reservation at every subsequent stage is redundant. Isn't it? A doctor who gets in by virtue of caste, graduate by virtue of caste, and in spite of taking extra years to graduate, and having the worst scores in class can become a good doctor in the end, but pray if that is so, why must the others from more "priviliged" classes be not given the same "equal" opportunity. Isn't this neo-casteism?
The argument about what the so called cream of the nation has offered to the country is a just argument, and in stead of my harping on how many billions of dollars and how many jobs have been created by this cream, I will ask the skeptics to check it themselves. Also I will ask them to make a caste wise comparison to understand how valuable reservation has been.
I firmly believe the most meritorious will beat the odds irrespective of how many seats they are supposed to fight for. But I also think that lesser number of seats will produce lesser number of competitive people. In the world of competition, of free market, in the global village we can rise through education that provides skill and capability, and those who cannot walk without the crutches of reservation will only hamper the country's progress.
I simply cannot comprehend how many generations are needed before the reservations can be removed. For in last fifty years, some families have benefitted from reservations for atleast two to three generations, and mind you, they form the "cream" in the reservation class, for they select themselves.
Those who talk about how poor the people from some of the reserved classes are, need to understand that poverty cannot be uprooted through reservation in professional degrees and jobs, but by creation of better opportunities as well as the capacity in these people to make most of these opportunities.
Most have argued here that families must not be allowed to benefit from reservation in more than one generation. I think if there has to be reservation, my logic of selecting best prepared candidates demands that if the second generation people are better, I'd much rather have them occupy those seats than undercooked candidates. But of course, this logic defeats the whole argument about using reservation for improving socio-economic condition of several classes, and by virtue of this seemingly convulated argument, I wish to suggest that NO RESERVATIONS is only end to this conundrum.
A word about meritocracy: merit is subjective, true, but thanks to system of merit, millions like me are able to get the returns, the value we deserve for having worked much harder than my other classmates. There are too many smart and intelligent people in India, there are too many hard working people too, there are rich and poor people, but the ingredient that tied me to my other classmates was I knew that we all have had toiled our way through, and we all had some level of intellect. This training and confidence is the reason why students selected through hardest competitions command respect in all spheres of life, get fat pay checks and have a deserved good life. It did not matter how rich or poor their parent were, we got through for we knew things at that age that required something greater than talent or intellect or facilities can ensure. It required mixed blessing of perspiration, inspiration, intellect and dedication. It is these values we need to enshrine in everyone to become better.
Equality of opportunity is the ideal we need to achieve.
Other equalities are intrinisically impossible due to human nature.
Let it be a level playing field. Like animal kingdom, let it be survival of the fittest.
Its remarked that selection of the best in entrance examination is a flawed system, for the "best" is relative, "crammers" select themselves, "richer" people who have access to better facilities and education hold the cards of advantage and the "highest" scorers are not necessarily the best engineers or doctors or businessmen or administrators. This argument, I believe, must be the very argument against reservation as well, for among them too, it is these "richer, cramming bests" who enter the colleges.
We must however never forget that brilliance is not the only criterion for selection in these exams, crude cramming gets you nowhere, "rich" parents can provide better preparation, but outcome is a result of PERSPIRATION, a hard work spread over months, a determination that helps you to do your best and this personal best needs to be GOOD ENOUGH to get you somewhere.
Reservation is my idea of NEO-CASTEISM. Divide and rule. The hypnotic mantra of equality can been beaten to death by communists and socialists. It does not matter if human beings are born with equal physical and mental capabilities, for four thousand years of humanity has seen that it requires perspiration, inspiration, talent, capability and training to become anything better than average. I will not expect people to rise to same level even if they have same facilities available to them. If you don't trust my argument, look at any family and you will see how different the children turn out to be. Mere facilities ensure nothing.
As someone remarked, IITs have a minimal cut-off and there is no reservation for people when they take internal examinations. Brilliant argument. So lets locate statistics and see how these students have fared over last fifty years, for they were "smart" enough to graduate from class. Do the same for people in every medical, engineering and other college, for some people harp on how reservation is just required to get these sections through the door. Do quota people ever do as well as their other counterparts? Those who do, the select few, would do so well without the need of quota. The majority fares badly. Go check the statistics. But it does not matter, for reservation allows these guys to get jobs more easily again. The quality is compromised at admission stage at first, then again at the hiring stage, and then again during the time of promotion. If education can rescue the SC/ST/OBC from their lack of opportunity, reservation at every subsequent stage is redundant. Isn't it? A doctor who gets in by virtue of caste, graduate by virtue of caste, and in spite of taking extra years to graduate, and having the worst scores in class can become a good doctor in the end, but pray if that is so, why must the others from more "priviliged" classes be not given the same "equal" opportunity. Isn't this neo-casteism?
The argument about what the so called cream of the nation has offered to the country is a just argument, and in stead of my harping on how many billions of dollars and how many jobs have been created by this cream, I will ask the skeptics to check it themselves. Also I will ask them to make a caste wise comparison to understand how valuable reservation has been.
I firmly believe the most meritorious will beat the odds irrespective of how many seats they are supposed to fight for. But I also think that lesser number of seats will produce lesser number of competitive people. In the world of competition, of free market, in the global village we can rise through education that provides skill and capability, and those who cannot walk without the crutches of reservation will only hamper the country's progress.
I simply cannot comprehend how many generations are needed before the reservations can be removed. For in last fifty years, some families have benefitted from reservations for atleast two to three generations, and mind you, they form the "cream" in the reservation class, for they select themselves.
Those who talk about how poor the people from some of the reserved classes are, need to understand that poverty cannot be uprooted through reservation in professional degrees and jobs, but by creation of better opportunities as well as the capacity in these people to make most of these opportunities.
Most have argued here that families must not be allowed to benefit from reservation in more than one generation. I think if there has to be reservation, my logic of selecting best prepared candidates demands that if the second generation people are better, I'd much rather have them occupy those seats than undercooked candidates. But of course, this logic defeats the whole argument about using reservation for improving socio-economic condition of several classes, and by virtue of this seemingly convulated argument, I wish to suggest that NO RESERVATIONS is only end to this conundrum.
A word about meritocracy: merit is subjective, true, but thanks to system of merit, millions like me are able to get the returns, the value we deserve for having worked much harder than my other classmates. There are too many smart and intelligent people in India, there are too many hard working people too, there are rich and poor people, but the ingredient that tied me to my other classmates was I knew that we all have had toiled our way through, and we all had some level of intellect. This training and confidence is the reason why students selected through hardest competitions command respect in all spheres of life, get fat pay checks and have a deserved good life. It did not matter how rich or poor their parent were, we got through for we knew things at that age that required something greater than talent or intellect or facilities can ensure. It required mixed blessing of perspiration, inspiration, intellect and dedication. It is these values we need to enshrine in everyone to become better.
Equality of opportunity is the ideal we need to achieve.
Other equalities are intrinisically impossible due to human nature.
Let it be a level playing field. Like animal kingdom, let it be survival of the fittest.
Review of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Shockingly mesmerizing love story?
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov flirts with perversity, flaunts literary devices tastefully, evokes admiration and disgust in equal measure, and remains to be an extremely powerful potrayal of human emotion. Much has been said about underlying political metaphor in having Humbert as the european intellectual drifter "romancing" Lolita, his foster American child, and about the morality of the whole saga. With or without refering to these metaphors, the writing retains its charm for the engrossing word play.
There are no graphic details of sexual acts, and this is no easy read for those who consider pornography as literary composition. This is not a two cent sex thriller as sometimes the colloquial references make it seem. This is not about escapades of an old man travelling around the United States with a young nymphet. This is not even like Lady Chatterley's Lover, which sizzles with the passion of its protagonists. Lolita is about that love, that fire which consumes everyone that comes in contact with it. This is a feverish tale of a seemingly perverted Humbert sinking deeper and deeper into his fascination with nymphets.
The novel is rich in wit and satire, many descriptions of nature or Humbert's thoughts and feelings are sheer poetry, and the narration is both fascinating and intriguing. Intriguing in capturing an array of ideas and acts that are not only difficult to put on paper, but as history testifies, immediately make the author target of ridicule and condemnation. Like most others, I started reading the book with some prejudices and some precepts. Little did I know that my flight in a plane would show me the outer space: such is the power of the book.
Yes, the book lives at the very edge. Nabokov romances with the baseline. Small errors could have meant the ball landed out of the court, and the game wouldn't be as exciting as it is now. There is a suspense that thrives on our knowledge of HH's ideas and motives, and our knowledge that none of the other characters share the information the reader has. There is a sadness that is undercurrent of most love stories. There is a sense of disgust, for the whole idea of a twelve year old being ploughed by an old man is sickening to people of our generation and our education. Like Nabokov points out, till fifty years ago, a girl would start procreating as soon as she hit the teenage. There is an awe imposed on the reader by the way this taut story proceeds, the choice of sentences, dialogue, words reflects why Nabokov's Lolita occupies such a prominent place in the world literature.
Pray do read it. Read it piecemeal. It is a difficult but fascinating read. Recommended highly for everyone. It does not matter how you perceive Humbert or Lolita or anyone in the novel; you could run into similar characters on the street. Make allowances for HH's obsession, Lolita's nature, and then you will see Lolita is like a lotus blooming in the mud of passion and perversity. To pick this flower, you need to wade though the mud, and I believe it will be worth the effort. Reading this novel, like the story it tells, is full of torment. It will test and tease your own thoughts about morality, sexuality, sensuality and love. Like every great book, you will be forced into understanding your own self, as well as everyone around you better. Shocking, but mesmerizing tale. Must read.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov flirts with perversity, flaunts literary devices tastefully, evokes admiration and disgust in equal measure, and remains to be an extremely powerful potrayal of human emotion. Much has been said about underlying political metaphor in having Humbert as the european intellectual drifter "romancing" Lolita, his foster American child, and about the morality of the whole saga. With or without refering to these metaphors, the writing retains its charm for the engrossing word play.
There are no graphic details of sexual acts, and this is no easy read for those who consider pornography as literary composition. This is not a two cent sex thriller as sometimes the colloquial references make it seem. This is not about escapades of an old man travelling around the United States with a young nymphet. This is not even like Lady Chatterley's Lover, which sizzles with the passion of its protagonists. Lolita is about that love, that fire which consumes everyone that comes in contact with it. This is a feverish tale of a seemingly perverted Humbert sinking deeper and deeper into his fascination with nymphets.
The novel is rich in wit and satire, many descriptions of nature or Humbert's thoughts and feelings are sheer poetry, and the narration is both fascinating and intriguing. Intriguing in capturing an array of ideas and acts that are not only difficult to put on paper, but as history testifies, immediately make the author target of ridicule and condemnation. Like most others, I started reading the book with some prejudices and some precepts. Little did I know that my flight in a plane would show me the outer space: such is the power of the book.
Yes, the book lives at the very edge. Nabokov romances with the baseline. Small errors could have meant the ball landed out of the court, and the game wouldn't be as exciting as it is now. There is a suspense that thrives on our knowledge of HH's ideas and motives, and our knowledge that none of the other characters share the information the reader has. There is a sadness that is undercurrent of most love stories. There is a sense of disgust, for the whole idea of a twelve year old being ploughed by an old man is sickening to people of our generation and our education. Like Nabokov points out, till fifty years ago, a girl would start procreating as soon as she hit the teenage. There is an awe imposed on the reader by the way this taut story proceeds, the choice of sentences, dialogue, words reflects why Nabokov's Lolita occupies such a prominent place in the world literature.
Pray do read it. Read it piecemeal. It is a difficult but fascinating read. Recommended highly for everyone. It does not matter how you perceive Humbert or Lolita or anyone in the novel; you could run into similar characters on the street. Make allowances for HH's obsession, Lolita's nature, and then you will see Lolita is like a lotus blooming in the mud of passion and perversity. To pick this flower, you need to wade though the mud, and I believe it will be worth the effort. Reading this novel, like the story it tells, is full of torment. It will test and tease your own thoughts about morality, sexuality, sensuality and love. Like every great book, you will be forced into understanding your own self, as well as everyone around you better. Shocking, but mesmerizing tale. Must read.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Communism, Reservation, Justice, Upliftment
In my previous blog, I suggested the voice of the meritorious must rise, specifically addressing why it is important to use merit as sole criterion for selection in IIT, IIM, private sector, medicine and elsewhere. There were few interesting responses and a number of other blogs and comments speaking about the same issue. I will try to summarize how and why I think the ideal of social justice cannot be used as an excuse for reservation, and how such political choices are motivated by communist, pro-mediocre mentalities.
An economic upliftment argument is always cited as prime reason for continuing reservation. How can one define economic upliftment, and how many series of reserved position does a person require to really have his share of social justice? A simple example: The caste allows the kid to get free education, followed by "easier" access to a position in medical or engineering college based on the quota. Now that person has all the requisite qualification, he is after all a graduate, he should be capable enough of earning a living. But no, it seems he is not. Then he will get the job through the quota, say he becomes a doctor or engineer or enters the State Civil Services. His "unreserved" classmate, who comes from a caste that was "priviliged" for hundreds of years, must work much harder at each stage to get the same appointment. Now both "should" have gained some equality, for they start with same education and have got the same job. But alas no! The reserved category allows the person to rise faster and higher. The capability, the work ethic, the economic condition of both employees has no bearing on promotion: the qouta person always holds an advantage. Now that he is able to earn better and rise higher, his son is atleast as "priviliged" in terms of economic condition and education as son of his counterpart, YET HIS SON FINDS THE SAME HIERARCHY OF BENEFITS waiting for him.
Someone pointed out that I have no statistics to support my claim that IITs have a large share of students like me who come from middle class and whose parents had to struggle to get us through the education regime. Perhaps one can check that. I do remember that most people of "quota" that I knew in IIT were sons of high ranking officials, and most of them relied on "reservation" to get them their next appointment, so IIT degree, that was "subsidized" to a greater degree for them, did not cause them to became quite as capable as aimed. So is true for all IAS officers selected through quota.
There is no denying that many people coming out of the quotas are absolutely brilliant, and if they are brilliant the reservation is redundant. Not all who DON'T get selected in entrance examination are less inteliigent or less worthy than who get through, many factors control that. But those who get through have a bare minimum intelligence, have put in the requisite effort (for luck loves effort), share some capabilities: we ought to respect that. A smart student will make his way, irrespective of whether he clears a particular exam after tenth or not. An Ambani or Anil Aggarwal will become a billionare, without any clutches to prop him. Even higher education is "not that important".
The whole hue and cry about "how we are unaware of village conditions" is more celebrated by my city friends. I grew up in small towns and spent a fair amount of times in villages. I have worked in slums too. For extremely poor, reservation is of less value than food and education. For middle class, reservation is important for it affects not simply their employment opportunities, but each stage of their career. For rich, there are infinite routes to employment and more money.
We have fallen into a communist mindset, where we believe all need to earn equally well, all need equal amount of luxuries and all deserve same quality of life. Everyone is not Tendulkar to be inducted into the list of cricketing legends. Everyone cannot run as fast as PT Usha. You can teach someone to read and write, but you cannot make him into Tagore or Premchand. Being Dhyan Chand requires both talent and effort, and no matter how you justify induction of a player into hockey team based on his economic status or caste, he is a bad choice if he is not the best. In government service or bureaucracy mediocricity is celebrated (one may exclude many extremely smart and motivated people, but I am talking about the majority who are not perhaps the best hires). A mediocre officer requires the political support to stay in good books, is prone to corruption and waits for his time for every promotion. A good officer bites his lip, is bitter about his having to work hard, lives poorly for he cannot accept bribes like others and dies after years of hard work. Of course, reservation for many of these jobs may not alter the quality of work that is expected from the employee. In competitive environment, one needs more than just knowledge, one needs motivation that tell him that his best effort will be rewarded and recognized.
A smart student or employee does not require a last name or family name for every admission and promotion at each level of his career.
Is the son of a Member of Parliament or an IAS officer or a big businessman or a rich farmer "under priviliged"?
I don't buy the argument about "discriminated for years, hence need reservation either." I do not consider myself responsible for the historical misgivings. Mughals mistreated Sikhs and Hindus in north does not mean I avenge that. The British and European discriminated against us (and Asians and Africans) for centuries does not mean they open their country to us and give us a quota in jobs or education there.
ONE WRONG CANNOT BE UNDONE BY ANOTHER WRONG.
ONE INJUSTICE IS NOT A JUSTIFICATION FOR ANOTHER INJUSTICE.
We have to compete with China, where decisions are taken promptly and even their communism does not require "reservation policy". We need to compete with US that attracts the most motivated workforce from everywhere. We need to compete with Japan and France that certainly rely on use of best workforce available.
I agree our education system and selection system have their own flaws. I agree much needs to be done to alter the social and economic status of most people belonging to poorer classes. I agree the effort needs to be active. I agree that if one person gets a good job, he inspires his whole family to rise. I agree that upliftment is necessary. I agree with these ends, NOT THE MEANS.
JUSTICE MUST MEAN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY. By some effort, one can strive to provide equal "capability", allow special coaching for poorer people appearing for entrance examinations or for job interviews. Once each is trained and provided for in preparation time, MERITORIOUS WILL SELECT THEMSELVES. There is no lack of opportunity for EDUCATED AND RICH, then why do we need reservation for them who already have GRADUATE AND POST GRADUATE DEGREES? Once you have obtained a job, you have gone through the door, you earn quite well, why do you need reservation at every subsequent step as well? Why does your son and grandson require quota seats, if you have benefitted from it for thirty years of your own career?
You cannot make everyone rich by distributing money to the poor. Unless you teach a man how to best use his funds, he will squander them. Unless he is forced to earn something through his own labor, a provided for beggar would love being a beggar. It requires less labor, and if you call his profession a dignified way of existance, he will have no motivation to strive for changing his status. ACCESS TO OPPORTUNITY AND CAPABILITY IS MORE IMPORTANT (and surely more dignified) THAN PROVIDING A "RESERVED JOB." Quality, my friends, is paramount. If my life is in danger, I will want treatment from the best qualified doctor, and my sense of social justice demands that the best is selected. If I am going to spend a billion dollars on research, my sense of social justice demands the smartest, irrespective of how rich or poor his father was, makes use of my money.
CREATE OPPORTUNITIES, INCREASE CAPABILITY
BUT PRAY PLEASE NEVER COMPROMISE ON QUALITY.
An economic upliftment argument is always cited as prime reason for continuing reservation. How can one define economic upliftment, and how many series of reserved position does a person require to really have his share of social justice? A simple example: The caste allows the kid to get free education, followed by "easier" access to a position in medical or engineering college based on the quota. Now that person has all the requisite qualification, he is after all a graduate, he should be capable enough of earning a living. But no, it seems he is not. Then he will get the job through the quota, say he becomes a doctor or engineer or enters the State Civil Services. His "unreserved" classmate, who comes from a caste that was "priviliged" for hundreds of years, must work much harder at each stage to get the same appointment. Now both "should" have gained some equality, for they start with same education and have got the same job. But alas no! The reserved category allows the person to rise faster and higher. The capability, the work ethic, the economic condition of both employees has no bearing on promotion: the qouta person always holds an advantage. Now that he is able to earn better and rise higher, his son is atleast as "priviliged" in terms of economic condition and education as son of his counterpart, YET HIS SON FINDS THE SAME HIERARCHY OF BENEFITS waiting for him.
Someone pointed out that I have no statistics to support my claim that IITs have a large share of students like me who come from middle class and whose parents had to struggle to get us through the education regime. Perhaps one can check that. I do remember that most people of "quota" that I knew in IIT were sons of high ranking officials, and most of them relied on "reservation" to get them their next appointment, so IIT degree, that was "subsidized" to a greater degree for them, did not cause them to became quite as capable as aimed. So is true for all IAS officers selected through quota.
There is no denying that many people coming out of the quotas are absolutely brilliant, and if they are brilliant the reservation is redundant. Not all who DON'T get selected in entrance examination are less inteliigent or less worthy than who get through, many factors control that. But those who get through have a bare minimum intelligence, have put in the requisite effort (for luck loves effort), share some capabilities: we ought to respect that. A smart student will make his way, irrespective of whether he clears a particular exam after tenth or not. An Ambani or Anil Aggarwal will become a billionare, without any clutches to prop him. Even higher education is "not that important".
The whole hue and cry about "how we are unaware of village conditions" is more celebrated by my city friends. I grew up in small towns and spent a fair amount of times in villages. I have worked in slums too. For extremely poor, reservation is of less value than food and education. For middle class, reservation is important for it affects not simply their employment opportunities, but each stage of their career. For rich, there are infinite routes to employment and more money.
We have fallen into a communist mindset, where we believe all need to earn equally well, all need equal amount of luxuries and all deserve same quality of life. Everyone is not Tendulkar to be inducted into the list of cricketing legends. Everyone cannot run as fast as PT Usha. You can teach someone to read and write, but you cannot make him into Tagore or Premchand. Being Dhyan Chand requires both talent and effort, and no matter how you justify induction of a player into hockey team based on his economic status or caste, he is a bad choice if he is not the best. In government service or bureaucracy mediocricity is celebrated (one may exclude many extremely smart and motivated people, but I am talking about the majority who are not perhaps the best hires). A mediocre officer requires the political support to stay in good books, is prone to corruption and waits for his time for every promotion. A good officer bites his lip, is bitter about his having to work hard, lives poorly for he cannot accept bribes like others and dies after years of hard work. Of course, reservation for many of these jobs may not alter the quality of work that is expected from the employee. In competitive environment, one needs more than just knowledge, one needs motivation that tell him that his best effort will be rewarded and recognized.
A smart student or employee does not require a last name or family name for every admission and promotion at each level of his career.
Is the son of a Member of Parliament or an IAS officer or a big businessman or a rich farmer "under priviliged"?
I don't buy the argument about "discriminated for years, hence need reservation either." I do not consider myself responsible for the historical misgivings. Mughals mistreated Sikhs and Hindus in north does not mean I avenge that. The British and European discriminated against us (and Asians and Africans) for centuries does not mean they open their country to us and give us a quota in jobs or education there.
ONE WRONG CANNOT BE UNDONE BY ANOTHER WRONG.
ONE INJUSTICE IS NOT A JUSTIFICATION FOR ANOTHER INJUSTICE.
We have to compete with China, where decisions are taken promptly and even their communism does not require "reservation policy". We need to compete with US that attracts the most motivated workforce from everywhere. We need to compete with Japan and France that certainly rely on use of best workforce available.
I agree our education system and selection system have their own flaws. I agree much needs to be done to alter the social and economic status of most people belonging to poorer classes. I agree the effort needs to be active. I agree that if one person gets a good job, he inspires his whole family to rise. I agree that upliftment is necessary. I agree with these ends, NOT THE MEANS.
JUSTICE MUST MEAN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY. By some effort, one can strive to provide equal "capability", allow special coaching for poorer people appearing for entrance examinations or for job interviews. Once each is trained and provided for in preparation time, MERITORIOUS WILL SELECT THEMSELVES. There is no lack of opportunity for EDUCATED AND RICH, then why do we need reservation for them who already have GRADUATE AND POST GRADUATE DEGREES? Once you have obtained a job, you have gone through the door, you earn quite well, why do you need reservation at every subsequent step as well? Why does your son and grandson require quota seats, if you have benefitted from it for thirty years of your own career?
You cannot make everyone rich by distributing money to the poor. Unless you teach a man how to best use his funds, he will squander them. Unless he is forced to earn something through his own labor, a provided for beggar would love being a beggar. It requires less labor, and if you call his profession a dignified way of existance, he will have no motivation to strive for changing his status. ACCESS TO OPPORTUNITY AND CAPABILITY IS MORE IMPORTANT (and surely more dignified) THAN PROVIDING A "RESERVED JOB." Quality, my friends, is paramount. If my life is in danger, I will want treatment from the best qualified doctor, and my sense of social justice demands that the best is selected. If I am going to spend a billion dollars on research, my sense of social justice demands the smartest, irrespective of how rich or poor his father was, makes use of my money.
CREATE OPPORTUNITIES, INCREASE CAPABILITY
BUT PRAY PLEASE NEVER COMPROMISE ON QUALITY.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Voice of Merituous
(Premise: The Voice of Meritorious must rise. I ask you, each one of you, to write a blog about it, voice your opinions, in your strongest words, let the voices together tower to a proportion where the politicians and the voters can hear it.
I am writing this piece SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2006. I hope you guys will pitch in your voices through your own blogs starting MONDAY APRIL 24.)
In 1990, I saw thousands of people protest against the implementation of Mandal Commission recommendations. Hundreds in each state committed suicide, burnt themselves to death. The reservation quotas were increased. Protests died out. It was like a communist whim or a socialist myth triumphing over the intellectual common sense. In fifteen years since, we have seen people with shameful scores get through exams for their caste allows them special privilege. They get into the schools, where they don't deserve to be on pure intellectual merit, then they get all the scholarships too (mostly irrespective of how much money their family makes), and most of them manage to scrape through with just pass scores. But since the reservation regime is so biased in their favor, they get into jobs which they won't deserve if merit was the sole criterion, they are promoted faster than their "upper class counterparts" who by now are expected to understand that merit, good work is not the card to be played these days, and then these guys are in best position to have their own kids benifit from the reservation policy.
The politicians are shrewd enough to keep Parliament out of 33% Women Reservation Bill, and 50% OBC/SC/ST Reservation. They impose will wherever they can. The latest fear of raising the quota in IITs and IIMs is a simple example of how little some people comprehend the value of hard-working intellegesia. Social change cannot be brought out by killing the merit, by drowning the standards, by propping up mediocricity, by discrimination based on caste or tribe. I would have never known or figured for some people that they belonged to a certain caste, till I saw them get what they did not deserve based on just birth. The idea of reservation is a flawed idea, that allows the richest among those castes to benifit the most, and benefit generation after generation. It selects less than the best for psoitions where better people could really allow better cure as doctors, better product as engineers and better overall administration as bereaucrats. It leaves despair in the heart of deserving.
In our country, we are born unequals, for reservation allows certain castes, classes and tribes easier access to colleges and jobs.
In our country, we discriminate against our own people for discrimination carried out in previous centuries, we as kids are supposed to understand that our high birth means we need to strive harder than others to achieve something, because our forefathers were unwilling to allow some castes access to certain professions.
In our country, we think at by having 50% of people in a Medical College come from undeserving students, (based on intellect or merit), we will transform the society into a healthier one.
In our country, where we are striving towards a free market economy, where our GDP growth and industrial and social progress is going to depend on how well we attract foreign investors and compete on international scale, on international scale where they judge only the product, WE EXPECT to compete by using our convulated standards where half of the engineers and managers may be below par, but are there for they belong to classes that must be mollycoddled for mostly political reasons.
In our country, we don't get richer or poorer based on caste. The "UN-SCHEDULED" classes have their own share of economic and other disadvantages. Allow poorer students easier access to schooling, provide them free books or free lunches, but PRAY PLEASE DON"T GIVE SOMEONE GRACE POINTS FOR HE IS FROM A PARTICULAR CASTE. Give them opportunity to do well, training to do well, but please don't impose the undeserving on positions that they donot merit.
For kicks, if IITs and IIMs need to have more reservation quota just because it is ticket to high paying jobs, I strongly insist on a 50% quota in Indian Cricket Team, in Olympic Teams, in Parliament.
In our country, where we need to come through a killer competition at every stage of our life, where it is so easy to lose hope and disappear, where places like IITs and IIMs are places that keep the flame of toil and well-deserved returns alive, WE WISH TO CONDEMN ourselves to a lack of vision by allowing people graduate without their deserving to graduate, get the jobs they did not earn by meeting the scientific standards, take decisions about rest of us by sitting on chairs that are propped by a class contigency.
WE CANNOT JUST STAND AND STARE.
WE CANNOT BE QUIET AND SCARED.
The Voice of Meritorious must rise. I ask you, each one of you, to write a blog about it, voice your opinions, in your strongest words, let the voices together tower to a proportion where the politicians and the voters can hear it.
I am writing this piece SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2006. I hope you guys will pitch in your voices through your own blogs starting MONDAY APRIL 24. I will keep posting more stuff myself; but we all must pitch in our strongest opinions and post them on every wall, till the wise blind men we have elected see that the MERITORIOUS HAVE A VOICE.
I am writing this piece SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2006. I hope you guys will pitch in your voices through your own blogs starting MONDAY APRIL 24.)
In 1990, I saw thousands of people protest against the implementation of Mandal Commission recommendations. Hundreds in each state committed suicide, burnt themselves to death. The reservation quotas were increased. Protests died out. It was like a communist whim or a socialist myth triumphing over the intellectual common sense. In fifteen years since, we have seen people with shameful scores get through exams for their caste allows them special privilege. They get into the schools, where they don't deserve to be on pure intellectual merit, then they get all the scholarships too (mostly irrespective of how much money their family makes), and most of them manage to scrape through with just pass scores. But since the reservation regime is so biased in their favor, they get into jobs which they won't deserve if merit was the sole criterion, they are promoted faster than their "upper class counterparts" who by now are expected to understand that merit, good work is not the card to be played these days, and then these guys are in best position to have their own kids benifit from the reservation policy.
The politicians are shrewd enough to keep Parliament out of 33% Women Reservation Bill, and 50% OBC/SC/ST Reservation. They impose will wherever they can. The latest fear of raising the quota in IITs and IIMs is a simple example of how little some people comprehend the value of hard-working intellegesia. Social change cannot be brought out by killing the merit, by drowning the standards, by propping up mediocricity, by discrimination based on caste or tribe. I would have never known or figured for some people that they belonged to a certain caste, till I saw them get what they did not deserve based on just birth. The idea of reservation is a flawed idea, that allows the richest among those castes to benifit the most, and benefit generation after generation. It selects less than the best for psoitions where better people could really allow better cure as doctors, better product as engineers and better overall administration as bereaucrats. It leaves despair in the heart of deserving.
In our country, we are born unequals, for reservation allows certain castes, classes and tribes easier access to colleges and jobs.
In our country, we discriminate against our own people for discrimination carried out in previous centuries, we as kids are supposed to understand that our high birth means we need to strive harder than others to achieve something, because our forefathers were unwilling to allow some castes access to certain professions.
In our country, we think at by having 50% of people in a Medical College come from undeserving students, (based on intellect or merit), we will transform the society into a healthier one.
In our country, where we are striving towards a free market economy, where our GDP growth and industrial and social progress is going to depend on how well we attract foreign investors and compete on international scale, on international scale where they judge only the product, WE EXPECT to compete by using our convulated standards where half of the engineers and managers may be below par, but are there for they belong to classes that must be mollycoddled for mostly political reasons.
In our country, we don't get richer or poorer based on caste. The "UN-SCHEDULED" classes have their own share of economic and other disadvantages. Allow poorer students easier access to schooling, provide them free books or free lunches, but PRAY PLEASE DON"T GIVE SOMEONE GRACE POINTS FOR HE IS FROM A PARTICULAR CASTE. Give them opportunity to do well, training to do well, but please don't impose the undeserving on positions that they donot merit.
For kicks, if IITs and IIMs need to have more reservation quota just because it is ticket to high paying jobs, I strongly insist on a 50% quota in Indian Cricket Team, in Olympic Teams, in Parliament.
In our country, where we need to come through a killer competition at every stage of our life, where it is so easy to lose hope and disappear, where places like IITs and IIMs are places that keep the flame of toil and well-deserved returns alive, WE WISH TO CONDEMN ourselves to a lack of vision by allowing people graduate without their deserving to graduate, get the jobs they did not earn by meeting the scientific standards, take decisions about rest of us by sitting on chairs that are propped by a class contigency.
WE CANNOT JUST STAND AND STARE.
WE CANNOT BE QUIET AND SCARED.
The Voice of Meritorious must rise. I ask you, each one of you, to write a blog about it, voice your opinions, in your strongest words, let the voices together tower to a proportion where the politicians and the voters can hear it.
I am writing this piece SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2006. I hope you guys will pitch in your voices through your own blogs starting MONDAY APRIL 24. I will keep posting more stuff myself; but we all must pitch in our strongest opinions and post them on every wall, till the wise blind men we have elected see that the MERITORIOUS HAVE A VOICE.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Review: We The living by Ayn Rand
Ayn Rand's We The Living is a novel set in Russia right after the revolution ended and explores the lifes and times of primarily three individuals: Kira, the female who wants to be an engineer and is passionately in love with Leo, the son of former Army General and the immistakable Andrei, who has risen from streets to become a formidable communist. To complete the cast is Victor, Kira's cousin, who does the needful to shed his bourgeois past and rise through the ranks, Pyerov and Sonia, who in their own way use communism to become richer and powerful, and other members of Kira's family. The novel dwells on how revolution alters not only their daily lifes, morals, ambitions but also reveals their base and basic human character. It is a tale of falsified hopes, broken dreams, corruption, love, and of the struggle of someone to survive a political system that is of utmost dislike to him/her.
Perhaps as the first book to come out of communist Russia, We The Living has gained more respect than it merits on basis of just literary qualities. Like all her heroes and heroines, Rand's prime suspects here are three idealists who seek to justify their different means for their selfish ends. The love triangle between Andrei, Leo and Kira is stifling reminder of how some people try to lead a dual life, hoping they can let two people be happily in love with them. Kira, who Rand wishes to potray as the martyr in her superhuman effort to be true to her individualistic ideals, and whose character is the reason for calling this novel as primarily as war of an individual against the state, fails to impress me. While the novel is a great treatize on how and why communist Russia squandered the dreams of early revolutionaries, Kira fails to impress. Her convictions are full of contradictions, as are her means and methods of achieving them. If I really want someone to read about communist Russia, I'd ask them to pick Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak. If Ayn Rand's Objectivism or Invidualism is your ideal, stop after reading Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.
Kira's love is flawed for it lacks the honesty and fidelity that one must show towards one she cherishes. Her ideals are made ridiculous by the manner in which she sheds them for survival. Andrei is the unlikely hero, who is victim of his own idealogy, victim of treachery by both the women and the country that he tried to love and save. Leo is a failed ideal, and his character, throughout the novel does not tell me why Kira loved him so. There are other people in the novel, and Rand seeks to potray their state as the consequence of communism. Agreed, the state that supressed personal freedom and right for personal profit, must have broken the spirit of one and many. As a grim reminder of how social catastropes can alter family life, We The Living stands strong. As a ideological entity, I find it uninspiring. Fountainhead rules any day.
Perhaps as the first book to come out of communist Russia, We The Living has gained more respect than it merits on basis of just literary qualities. Like all her heroes and heroines, Rand's prime suspects here are three idealists who seek to justify their different means for their selfish ends. The love triangle between Andrei, Leo and Kira is stifling reminder of how some people try to lead a dual life, hoping they can let two people be happily in love with them. Kira, who Rand wishes to potray as the martyr in her superhuman effort to be true to her individualistic ideals, and whose character is the reason for calling this novel as primarily as war of an individual against the state, fails to impress me. While the novel is a great treatize on how and why communist Russia squandered the dreams of early revolutionaries, Kira fails to impress. Her convictions are full of contradictions, as are her means and methods of achieving them. If I really want someone to read about communist Russia, I'd ask them to pick Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak. If Ayn Rand's Objectivism or Invidualism is your ideal, stop after reading Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged.
Kira's love is flawed for it lacks the honesty and fidelity that one must show towards one she cherishes. Her ideals are made ridiculous by the manner in which she sheds them for survival. Andrei is the unlikely hero, who is victim of his own idealogy, victim of treachery by both the women and the country that he tried to love and save. Leo is a failed ideal, and his character, throughout the novel does not tell me why Kira loved him so. There are other people in the novel, and Rand seeks to potray their state as the consequence of communism. Agreed, the state that supressed personal freedom and right for personal profit, must have broken the spirit of one and many. As a grim reminder of how social catastropes can alter family life, We The Living stands strong. As a ideological entity, I find it uninspiring. Fountainhead rules any day.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Review: Chronicles of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Nasar dies. Gabriel Garcia Marquez in this short, quick read novel, tells you that Nasar dies in the opening chapter. He is murdered, everyone knew he was going to be murdered, no one did enough to prevent it, and it was as if a death foretold was executed before their own eyes. The narrator tries to piece together the events and conversations that occured before and after the murder. Several stories are revealed, many incomplete ones, half-forgotten memoirs of those who saw it all happen. The novel is written with less of imagery and metaphor than Marquez usually incorporates in his writing, and so in comparison to the rich language and imagination on display in his other novels, this is more down to earth, matter of fact kind of piece.
Marquez indeed is one of the best novelists of our time. This story is harrowing in reminding us of how most of us fail to act and prevent tragedies that we could easily prevent. The bride who is returned on the night of her marriage, the brothers who must kill of save her honor and the description of merry making before the murder all add their share of spice to this tale.
Marquez indeed is one of the best novelists of our time. This story is harrowing in reminding us of how most of us fail to act and prevent tragedies that we could easily prevent. The bride who is returned on the night of her marriage, the brothers who must kill of save her honor and the description of merry making before the murder all add their share of spice to this tale.
Anth mein tera kaun hoga? with Translation
Anth mein tera kaun hoga,
Shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
Anth-arr mein aaghaat hongay
andheray, dukhadh prabhat hongay,
sur-viheen jeevan raag hoga
swapan swapan khaakh hoga
sirf tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudh maun hoga.
kavi vivek ki vidumbnaa yahee
kavita, kalpana ko samajay sahee
preet ka swapan tootayega
bhram ka aaina footayega
kunthit har ulaas hoga
aise mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
praayaas ka prakram haarega
aasha ko adharm maarega
pawan mein agni uglegi
dhamniyon mein deh-shat sulgegi
aakaash aakrosh ka vistaar hoga
adhura, akela sansaar hoga
aanth mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
spring 1998
An old poem. Two lines remain etched in my memory
anth mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga
Attempting to translate it (its my own, so apologies to self for this sacrilege)
In the end who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours
Injured will be self yours
Dreary, dark even dawn hours
Out of tune strung music of life
dream dream, shall be an ash pile
Only then who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
Poet Vivek's conundrum is simply this
Poetry, imagination he as real percieves
The dream of love will disrupt
The volcano of delirium erupt
Each joy'll be stigmied, curtailed
Eternal, absolute sorrows unveiled
In all this, who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
The valor of effort will die
Hope, through sacrileges, run dry
Even winds will bellow fire
Arteries smother like scary pyre
The sky'll be the extent of agony
Your world'll be incomplete, lonely
In the end, who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
Translation Spring 2006
April 14, 2006
Its amazing that I am translating it after eight years. One of the long lost, nearly forgotten verses from the most prolific times in my poetic career.
Shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
Anth-arr mein aaghaat hongay
andheray, dukhadh prabhat hongay,
sur-viheen jeevan raag hoga
swapan swapan khaakh hoga
sirf tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudh maun hoga.
kavi vivek ki vidumbnaa yahee
kavita, kalpana ko samajay sahee
preet ka swapan tootayega
bhram ka aaina footayega
kunthit har ulaas hoga
aise mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
praayaas ka prakram haarega
aasha ko adharm maarega
pawan mein agni uglegi
dhamniyon mein deh-shat sulgegi
aakaash aakrosh ka vistaar hoga
adhura, akela sansaar hoga
aanth mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga.
spring 1998
An old poem. Two lines remain etched in my memory
anth mein tera kaun hoga
shubadh, prabudhh maun hoga
Attempting to translate it (its my own, so apologies to self for this sacrilege)
In the end who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours
Injured will be self yours
Dreary, dark even dawn hours
Out of tune strung music of life
dream dream, shall be an ash pile
Only then who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
Poet Vivek's conundrum is simply this
Poetry, imagination he as real percieves
The dream of love will disrupt
The volcano of delirium erupt
Each joy'll be stigmied, curtailed
Eternal, absolute sorrows unveiled
In all this, who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
The valor of effort will die
Hope, through sacrileges, run dry
Even winds will bellow fire
Arteries smother like scary pyre
The sky'll be the extent of agony
Your world'll be incomplete, lonely
In the end, who'll be yours
Anguished, immense silence yours.
Translation Spring 2006
April 14, 2006
Its amazing that I am translating it after eight years. One of the long lost, nearly forgotten verses from the most prolific times in my poetic career.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Pad Thai Noodles
"Pad Thai Noodles," I decided.
"Thats what I'd like too."
I had offered to buy her lunch,
Why she accepted, I've no clue.
"I am Thai," she blurted
"But how can that be?"
Her blue eyes, blonde skin
She reckoned, "A tourist sired me."
I coughed. The Pad Thai stung.
I felt like a noodle. Senile.
She winked, "Its curious at first
But you'll love it after a while."
I tried to swallow the sudden spice
Her hands worked up her hair
She whispered, "Honey, twenty dollars,
And we both be swell out there."
I looked out of the window, a houseboat
Minutes later sounds choked her throat
The boat creaked and swayed and shouted
My tip was larger than the price touted.
As I scraped titbits off my plate
Her nudge brought me back to sense.
"What were you thinking, " she asked,
I smiled, "Oh! Just some work nonsense."
April 12, 2006
1:30 pm
"Thats what I'd like too."
I had offered to buy her lunch,
Why she accepted, I've no clue.
"I am Thai," she blurted
"But how can that be?"
Her blue eyes, blonde skin
She reckoned, "A tourist sired me."
I coughed. The Pad Thai stung.
I felt like a noodle. Senile.
She winked, "Its curious at first
But you'll love it after a while."
I tried to swallow the sudden spice
Her hands worked up her hair
She whispered, "Honey, twenty dollars,
And we both be swell out there."
I looked out of the window, a houseboat
Minutes later sounds choked her throat
The boat creaked and swayed and shouted
My tip was larger than the price touted.
As I scraped titbits off my plate
Her nudge brought me back to sense.
"What were you thinking, " she asked,
I smiled, "Oh! Just some work nonsense."
April 12, 2006
1:30 pm
Sunday, April 09, 2006
A song, a conundrum.
Often its been seen
these limits-bounds on the mind
mind tries to break through
chasing unknown desires
chasing unknown hopes
mind tries to gallop through.
In these paths, in these passages
in these paths of life
of the blossomed flowers, smiling flowers
which flower must I steal
decorate in my heart.
I don't know, don't know
this conundrum, I don't know
how to resolve anything, can't figure out
who must I make my sweetheart
leave whose love and part.
Translation of the following song:
Movie Name: Rajnigandha (1974)
Singer: Mukesh
Music Director: Salil Chowdhury
Lyrics: Yogesh Year: 1974
KaIi Baar Yuu.N bhi dekhaa Hai
Ye Jo Man Kii Seemaa Rekhaa Hai
Man Tor-Dane Lagataa Hai
Anjaanii Pyaas Ke Peechhay
Anjaanii Aas Ke Peechhay
Man Daur-Dane Lagataa Hai
Raahon MeiN, RaahoN MeiN, Jeevan Ki RaahoN MeiN
Jo Khile HaiN Phool Phool Muskuraakey
Kaun Saa Phool Churaakey, Rakh LuN Man MeiN Sajaakay
Ka_Ii Baar Yuu.N Hii Dekhaa Hai ...
JaanuN Naa, JaanuN Naa, Ulajhan Ye JaanuN Na
SulajhaaunN Kaise Kuchh Samajh Na PaauN
Kisako Meet BanaauN, Kisakii Preet BhulaaN
KaIi Baar Yuu.N Hii Dekhaa Hai ...
these limits-bounds on the mind
mind tries to break through
chasing unknown desires
chasing unknown hopes
mind tries to gallop through.
In these paths, in these passages
in these paths of life
of the blossomed flowers, smiling flowers
which flower must I steal
decorate in my heart.
I don't know, don't know
this conundrum, I don't know
how to resolve anything, can't figure out
who must I make my sweetheart
leave whose love and part.
Translation of the following song:
Movie Name: Rajnigandha (1974)
Singer: Mukesh
Music Director: Salil Chowdhury
Lyrics: Yogesh Year: 1974
KaIi Baar Yuu.N bhi dekhaa Hai
Ye Jo Man Kii Seemaa Rekhaa Hai
Man Tor-Dane Lagataa Hai
Anjaanii Pyaas Ke Peechhay
Anjaanii Aas Ke Peechhay
Man Daur-Dane Lagataa Hai
Raahon MeiN, RaahoN MeiN, Jeevan Ki RaahoN MeiN
Jo Khile HaiN Phool Phool Muskuraakey
Kaun Saa Phool Churaakey, Rakh LuN Man MeiN Sajaakay
Ka_Ii Baar Yuu.N Hii Dekhaa Hai ...
JaanuN Naa, JaanuN Naa, Ulajhan Ye JaanuN Na
SulajhaaunN Kaise Kuchh Samajh Na PaauN
Kisako Meet BanaauN, Kisakii Preet BhulaaN
KaIi Baar Yuu.N Hii Dekhaa Hai ...
Friday, April 07, 2006
Rosewater stain
I
My fingertips traced moonlit moments
around the dark areoles of your
fleshy imagination. Your closed
eyes enwrapped the sensation, and
the loo on my lips whispered of the
wonder you felt.
II
O dear! Why must
you color like a rosewater stain; its
only poetry, not a video recording.
III
Sparks only fly when you nails plug-in
the chasms they have created in my back.
Pain, I guess, is the switch we must
flip, before pleasure can be turned on.
IV
My ploughing of these sheets hasn't
produced a single crop. Sweat is so
salty that its useless for irrigation,
and trust me, seeds sprout only when
the season and soil are rightly chosen.
V
O dear! Why must
you color like a rosewater stain; its
only poetry, not really a memoir.
VI
Age has made your ribcage grow,
the bones seem too eager to escape-
the loosely hanging crumbling tissues
that once smelt like sandalwood
have color of dry, decaying grass.
VII
O dear! Your ash in my hand
scalds the grip that once longed to carry newborns.
As I disperse ash into Ganga, our years together
dissolve away in the eternal flow.
Soon, I'll be, in the river too.
April 06, 12:15 am & April 07, 11:00 am!
PS: I guess I post too much stuff that I cannot take pride in, but serves the purpose of experimentation and maybe teasing some people. Here is another experiment, but something I think resembles what I usually write as serious poet must:) and seldom post online!
Do tell me what you think of this one.
My fingertips traced moonlit moments
around the dark areoles of your
fleshy imagination. Your closed
eyes enwrapped the sensation, and
the loo on my lips whispered of the
wonder you felt.
II
O dear! Why must
you color like a rosewater stain; its
only poetry, not a video recording.
III
Sparks only fly when you nails plug-in
the chasms they have created in my back.
Pain, I guess, is the switch we must
flip, before pleasure can be turned on.
IV
My ploughing of these sheets hasn't
produced a single crop. Sweat is so
salty that its useless for irrigation,
and trust me, seeds sprout only when
the season and soil are rightly chosen.
V
O dear! Why must
you color like a rosewater stain; its
only poetry, not really a memoir.
VI
Age has made your ribcage grow,
the bones seem too eager to escape-
the loosely hanging crumbling tissues
that once smelt like sandalwood
have color of dry, decaying grass.
VII
O dear! Your ash in my hand
scalds the grip that once longed to carry newborns.
As I disperse ash into Ganga, our years together
dissolve away in the eternal flow.
Soon, I'll be, in the river too.
April 06, 12:15 am & April 07, 11:00 am!
PS: I guess I post too much stuff that I cannot take pride in, but serves the purpose of experimentation and maybe teasing some people. Here is another experiment, but something I think resembles what I usually write as serious poet must:) and seldom post online!
Do tell me what you think of this one.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
For muses, who believe I misrepresent them
They say, in my verse
I misrepresent the fairer sex
Either I engineer phrases
latent with flattery or
concoct elegant excuses
for glorifying their physical attributes.
They say, in my verse
I misrepresent the fairer sex
My characters are just caricatures
and my devices laden with satire
my compliments usually underline
just what is imperfect and concealed.
They say, in my poems
I unleash a subtle attack
On their ambivalent dispositions
My emphasis is misplaced for
females live in the gray scale
and I insist on black and white.
They say in my poems
I unleash a subtle attack
on attention they relish, though
must underplay, as modesty demands
my words are like guilt trips
bittersweet, tangy soulstirrers.
They say, I must write
verses that emphasize qualities
revel in ideas, extol their intellect
talk about their exploits, their
ability to mobilize humanity into
rigor and vigor of survival.
They say I must write
verses that emphasize qualities
not of flesh, but of mind
They insist, guilt trips must go
as must my personal vendetta
to remind them of their limitations.
I smile at these responses
The allegations of the fairer sex
'Truth is beauty, beauty truth
In women, never twain shall meet,
Vivek, you seem to underplay it'
Say guys, demanding me to be less indiscrete.
I smile at these responses
The allegations of the fairer sex
Praise is flattery and the rest
seems to become misrepresentation
O enigmatic existances, you may dismiss my
poems as artefacts of my flawed imagination.
I insist, my poems mean
Whatever they comprehend in them
for I present just snapshots
of events or emotions as it is
this is not propaganda, but facts
just scribed in detached, absent mindedness.
I insist, my poems mean
Whatever they comprehend in them
When my experiences touch
the hands of their thoughts
I know be it pleasure or scorn
Their first instinct is to cringe.
I allow, the music of sentences
to show me the lyric
My verses are just montages
of my and their fractured reality
As a novelist, I cannot dictate
Who enacts the roles in their adaptations.
I allow, the music of sentences
to show me the lyric
Drafted here in uniforms are trite
observations mine and their own
O dears, if you cease to judge harshly, in my
verses, you will see my eulogies, my love, strewn.
April 04, 2006
10:00 pm
PS: “Trust a woman?” was a perfect cause for an all out attack on me by some friends I visited recently, and this poem is a homage to what they said (and my response that I was able to articulate only after returning home and sat down to pen this piece:)!
I misrepresent the fairer sex
Either I engineer phrases
latent with flattery or
concoct elegant excuses
for glorifying their physical attributes.
They say, in my verse
I misrepresent the fairer sex
My characters are just caricatures
and my devices laden with satire
my compliments usually underline
just what is imperfect and concealed.
They say, in my poems
I unleash a subtle attack
On their ambivalent dispositions
My emphasis is misplaced for
females live in the gray scale
and I insist on black and white.
They say in my poems
I unleash a subtle attack
on attention they relish, though
must underplay, as modesty demands
my words are like guilt trips
bittersweet, tangy soulstirrers.
They say, I must write
verses that emphasize qualities
revel in ideas, extol their intellect
talk about their exploits, their
ability to mobilize humanity into
rigor and vigor of survival.
They say I must write
verses that emphasize qualities
not of flesh, but of mind
They insist, guilt trips must go
as must my personal vendetta
to remind them of their limitations.
I smile at these responses
The allegations of the fairer sex
'Truth is beauty, beauty truth
In women, never twain shall meet,
Vivek, you seem to underplay it'
Say guys, demanding me to be less indiscrete.
I smile at these responses
The allegations of the fairer sex
Praise is flattery and the rest
seems to become misrepresentation
O enigmatic existances, you may dismiss my
poems as artefacts of my flawed imagination.
I insist, my poems mean
Whatever they comprehend in them
for I present just snapshots
of events or emotions as it is
this is not propaganda, but facts
just scribed in detached, absent mindedness.
I insist, my poems mean
Whatever they comprehend in them
When my experiences touch
the hands of their thoughts
I know be it pleasure or scorn
Their first instinct is to cringe.
I allow, the music of sentences
to show me the lyric
My verses are just montages
of my and their fractured reality
As a novelist, I cannot dictate
Who enacts the roles in their adaptations.
I allow, the music of sentences
to show me the lyric
Drafted here in uniforms are trite
observations mine and their own
O dears, if you cease to judge harshly, in my
verses, you will see my eulogies, my love, strewn.
April 04, 2006
10:00 pm
PS: “Trust a woman?” was a perfect cause for an all out attack on me by some friends I visited recently, and this poem is a homage to what they said (and my response that I was able to articulate only after returning home and sat down to pen this piece:)!
Monday, April 03, 2006
Trust a woman?
Should I trust women, any woman
A woman can I possibly trust?
Lips move in harmony, even eyes do
While zillion secrets sprawl in her bust.
Some call her fraility, some door of hell
The root of all evils, scriptures declare
Yet one crooning voice, one lingering kiss
Makes a man crawl, forgo every care.
When pregnant with ideas, or with intent
She swells and suffers, all her fill
Whatever she loves (besides her own self)
She nurtures it well, with a motherly skill.
She can be a panacea, if she so wills
And whisper to you, the lullabies of trance
Clasp your dreams, carry them to ecstasy
Fill your each pore, with pheremones of romance.
Like a vine, she can cling and climb
Rise like a moon, shimmering on a still lake
There like a memory, she can fade or flicker
Beyond unexplained clouds, her veiled escape make.
Never frail as she seems, her power's absolute
She will destroy you, destroy if she must
Her talents seduce me, beauty makes me believe
But shes a woman. Can a woman, I possibly trust?
Feb 23, 2006 9 am & April 02, 11:30 pm
The Poem is an inspired piece of composition, usually stems from some event, idea or an inescapable attack of passion. This one carries a thought, and the poet need not be prosecuted for what he is forced to write by his flash of inspiration.
A woman can I possibly trust?
Lips move in harmony, even eyes do
While zillion secrets sprawl in her bust.
Some call her fraility, some door of hell
The root of all evils, scriptures declare
Yet one crooning voice, one lingering kiss
Makes a man crawl, forgo every care.
When pregnant with ideas, or with intent
She swells and suffers, all her fill
Whatever she loves (besides her own self)
She nurtures it well, with a motherly skill.
She can be a panacea, if she so wills
And whisper to you, the lullabies of trance
Clasp your dreams, carry them to ecstasy
Fill your each pore, with pheremones of romance.
Like a vine, she can cling and climb
Rise like a moon, shimmering on a still lake
There like a memory, she can fade or flicker
Beyond unexplained clouds, her veiled escape make.
Never frail as she seems, her power's absolute
She will destroy you, destroy if she must
Her talents seduce me, beauty makes me believe
But shes a woman. Can a woman, I possibly trust?
Feb 23, 2006 9 am & April 02, 11:30 pm
The Poem is an inspired piece of composition, usually stems from some event, idea or an inescapable attack of passion. This one carries a thought, and the poet need not be prosecuted for what he is forced to write by his flash of inspiration.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Book review: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Of Mice and Men is a simple tale of two men, one Lennie is a huge fellow, a giant with a brain of a child, a simpleton who likes to pat mice and pups and by sheer force in his hands, kills the very thing he loves. Another is George who he travels with, George who finds work for them on farms, George who acts as his father, mother and friend, his spokesman. George gives Lennie a dream that they both live for, a dream of having their own Rabbit farm. The hundred page novel brings out the simple tradegy associated with Lennie's existence: he cannot escape the fact that he is the only simple-minded soul in a mean world. An easy read, this novel also brings to light some aspects of how African American's were treated in those time, the threat of lynching looms large at otherwise educated and strong person, ridiculed by a bimbo, a senseless woman, who marries one man and encourages every other as "nigger who could be killed at her one gesture".
There are a few other characters, developed nicely, but on the whole the novel is written in slangish style, spoken sentences lack grammar and descriptions of events and places is at a level of ten year old's vocabulary. So its a masterpiece more because it tells the story so simply, and yet manages to make it ever so memorable. There is a unercurrent of imminent tradegy throughout the novel, and even though its a short novel, it provides a peep into the farms and workers of early twentieth century America.
There are a few other characters, developed nicely, but on the whole the novel is written in slangish style, spoken sentences lack grammar and descriptions of events and places is at a level of ten year old's vocabulary. So its a masterpiece more because it tells the story so simply, and yet manages to make it ever so memorable. There is a unercurrent of imminent tradegy throughout the novel, and even though its a short novel, it provides a peep into the farms and workers of early twentieth century America.
Book Review: Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak is quite remarkably a poet's novel: the writer was a poet, and hence each page is full of beautiful imagery, metaphors and word play. The protagonist is a poet, the novel revolves around his love and life in the first half of twentieth century Russia. The reader, by association, has to be a poet to really relish the saga.
It is one of those novels from last century that everyone must read. The ghosts of socialism and Marxism, the excesses that occured in name of revolution, the transformation of the largest country of the world from ceturies old system into a failed ideal: the novel has enough historical significance. Last century was guided, molded, scarred, decorated and defined by the events and ideas that crop up as part of Doctor Zhivago's life. The literary underpinnings are gigantic: a love story with the Russian Revolution as background score: a Nobel was the least he could have got.
Besides the historical perspective, the story itself is a delightful one. The homely Tonya, Dr Zhivago's wife and first love and mother of his children, the sensuous Lara who weaves into and out of Yuri (Dr Zhivago's) life, her husband Pasha Antipov, who at every junction of his life must fight against ghosts and demons of his wife's past and present and in attempt outclass himself, the Uncle Koyla, the intellectual: the list is unending. Characters are crafted from all sections of society, making this novel a representation of whole society at that time. Like Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, the novel provides four or five chief characters, who are immense in their own potrayal, parting with their thoughts, ideas, ideals and philosophies, and possessing unique well-defined characteristics, the novel has another string of about twenty characters who are unforgettable for whatever roles they are assigned.
The harshness of winter, the beauty of forests and fields, the man divided in his love for wife Tonya and lover Lara, the poet in exile, the idealists seeking to change the world, Russian history and customs: such ideas find Pasternak displaying his poetic prowess. Many passages in the book are sheer poetry, and I am amazed at seeing how powerful they are in translated language: I wish I knew Russian to find out how delightful the original must have been.
It is a long novel, with graphic pleasant and unpleasant sequences and a writing style where its apparent that either because it is a translation or ther writer was a poet attempting prose, the writing is not a easy read. Requires lot of time and effort and most people prefer the movie that was made in 1965 or so. I think reading Doctor Zhivago is an experience in itself, and in this post cold war era, it contains the perspective and historical lessons that we all must know and understand.
An excerpt that presents a preview of all the things this novel incorporates into the love saga of Yuri, where his heart is in strife in his love for two women as is it in strife witnesses changes that challenge every aspect of his being and thinking:
"Even more than what they had in common, they were united by what separated them from the rest of the world. They were both repelled by what was tragically typical of the modern man, his shrill textbook admirations, his forced enthusiam, and the deadly stillness coldly preached and practiced by the countless workers in the field of art and science in order that the genius must remain extremely rare.
They loved each other greatly. Most people experience love, without noticing there is anything remarkable about it.
To them- and this made them unusual- the moments when passion visited their doomed human existence like a breath of timelessnesses were moments of revelation, of ever greater understanding of life and of themselves."
Loved it. Highly recommended.
It is one of those novels from last century that everyone must read. The ghosts of socialism and Marxism, the excesses that occured in name of revolution, the transformation of the largest country of the world from ceturies old system into a failed ideal: the novel has enough historical significance. Last century was guided, molded, scarred, decorated and defined by the events and ideas that crop up as part of Doctor Zhivago's life. The literary underpinnings are gigantic: a love story with the Russian Revolution as background score: a Nobel was the least he could have got.
Besides the historical perspective, the story itself is a delightful one. The homely Tonya, Dr Zhivago's wife and first love and mother of his children, the sensuous Lara who weaves into and out of Yuri (Dr Zhivago's) life, her husband Pasha Antipov, who at every junction of his life must fight against ghosts and demons of his wife's past and present and in attempt outclass himself, the Uncle Koyla, the intellectual: the list is unending. Characters are crafted from all sections of society, making this novel a representation of whole society at that time. Like Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, the novel provides four or five chief characters, who are immense in their own potrayal, parting with their thoughts, ideas, ideals and philosophies, and possessing unique well-defined characteristics, the novel has another string of about twenty characters who are unforgettable for whatever roles they are assigned.
The harshness of winter, the beauty of forests and fields, the man divided in his love for wife Tonya and lover Lara, the poet in exile, the idealists seeking to change the world, Russian history and customs: such ideas find Pasternak displaying his poetic prowess. Many passages in the book are sheer poetry, and I am amazed at seeing how powerful they are in translated language: I wish I knew Russian to find out how delightful the original must have been.
It is a long novel, with graphic pleasant and unpleasant sequences and a writing style where its apparent that either because it is a translation or ther writer was a poet attempting prose, the writing is not a easy read. Requires lot of time and effort and most people prefer the movie that was made in 1965 or so. I think reading Doctor Zhivago is an experience in itself, and in this post cold war era, it contains the perspective and historical lessons that we all must know and understand.
An excerpt that presents a preview of all the things this novel incorporates into the love saga of Yuri, where his heart is in strife in his love for two women as is it in strife witnesses changes that challenge every aspect of his being and thinking:
"Even more than what they had in common, they were united by what separated them from the rest of the world. They were both repelled by what was tragically typical of the modern man, his shrill textbook admirations, his forced enthusiam, and the deadly stillness coldly preached and practiced by the countless workers in the field of art and science in order that the genius must remain extremely rare.
They loved each other greatly. Most people experience love, without noticing there is anything remarkable about it.
To them- and this made them unusual- the moments when passion visited their doomed human existence like a breath of timelessnesses were moments of revelation, of ever greater understanding of life and of themselves."
Loved it. Highly recommended.
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