Age of Criticism

I was talking to one of my friends the other day and came upon a rather unique critique. This in many parts was a  discussion on the critique itself. The argument stressed on the point of expert critiques of the day and age. The first point of consideration was how good Rajeev Masand and Karan Thapar are, presenting an objective view to any argument.

Digressing a little from the topic we went on to talk about the opinionated world we live, everyone I know has a opinion on everything be it sports, entertainment, politics or scandals. No one even flinches once but is ready to give an opinion and debate on a unknown topic, and before there is a barrage of criticism against this let me clarify, I am also among the people who criticize and debate on varied topics.

The point I am trying to make here is this, we all criticize the government, the bad roads, the traffic jams, bad movies, bad songs, Himesh Reshamiya, Emraan Hashmi and of course Shashi Tharoor. We are ready to make a rap sheet and list the qualities in dry sarcasm or witless humor, sounding condescending or downright irate. The bloggers are especially the most unforgiving ones, one small scandal or wrong step and there are a flurry of posts presenting their varied opinions. A few tactful people pull off am amazing round up of the events but the rest are just left staring at their opinion drowning in the ocean of mindless drub.

The opinionated are more concerned about voicing their opinion however callow they might be. Its no longer about putting a valid argument but just putting an argument. You can say "the bird is flying" or "the cat is singing" in response to Tharoor's dismissal from cabinet and viola you are an epitome to Thapar's legacy of journalism and Kushwant Singh's humour.

All I am saying is its sometimes best to just shut your mouth and swallow your pride.

Darwin, survival and all that talk

Darwin, the father of evolution proposed the single greatest phenomenon in nature. He observed "survival of the fittest", a grand plan in the scheme of nature, a descriptive force only bettered by the might of creation. The laurels to the observation can go on.

This phenomenon has single-handedly defined our generation. In many ways we are stuck in a rat race which we are involuntarily a part of. We tend to have the survival skills at our sharpest as resources are dwindling and ability to achieve depends on the ability we have.  This generation probably has a hunger that can never be satiated by  nature. 

Everything has grown in our times and gone global, if we look at just one generation before, they wanted to settle for plushy jobs working 9 to 6, have a family and try to move less frequently; today we look for the proverbial "greener pastures" in moving to other countries and taking up better jobs.Change was a dreaded word and no one ever looked forward to it. There was a lot of red tape and underhanded office politics but it was mostly manageable. In todays corporate environment there is no red tape, partly because it promotes quick decisions and brings about progress and partly because the environment is very unstable. The office politics stoops to new lows and sometimes borders on "how much kiss-ass can you give me?". 

The market today changes rapidly, the next big thing integrates more actions into one and alienates people for the most crucial part. There was a day when you were charged extra money to use the ATM and internet banking facilities were never heard of, today banks charge money if you actually step into a physical facility. Its not just the banks here, my cellphone service provider Vodafone used to provide toll free customer service, now I am greeted by a message from some machine saying, " Our IVR menu options have been enhanced to serve you better", and doles out some gibberish that I have to carefully listen. Of course not all things are bad, the exposure to events across the globe, voicing out our opinion for a just cause and easy filing  of taxes are all great. When you ponder over the need for such things its mainly because we don't have time anymore, for a quick chat with our neighbor, or standing in a queue to pay a bill. We complain about travelling  an hour or more in a comfortable bus with push back seats. Our best friends are the people we say "hi" to over a  telephone line. We mostly wait for the weekend to drown ourselves in some mindless entertainment or a pint of beer. We want to fight for causes and make a difference in other people's lives, with no consideration of our own. 

Its all down to a numbers game in the end, how many times have you gone abroad, how many  employees do you have, how much revenue was generated, how much was the profit, how much money did you make, how many people did you help, how many friends do you have on facebook and the list is endless. The rat race is on in every sphere of our lives today, from the corporate world to personal life and in the great words of Darwin "survival of the fittest".  

Writing

The joys of writing are innumerable. As I sit and ponder over the many questions that arise in my daily life and surroundings, I like to write. Its not for the purposes of mere documentation, or recollection at a later point in time. Most of the entries in my dairies have never been read by me. There is a sense of calm and peace I derive from my writing. The visualization of the events and penning them down with the exact phrases to describe my feelings at that moment, gives me an immense euphoric pleasure.

Writing for me is more about my emotions than about writing itself. As I reflect on the one thought that overcame my senses, the one event flashing before my eyes or the one word I held onto dearly, I am reassured.

Most of my writing has been very private, to the point that no one has seen it. The transition I am trying to make to more public writing is difficult, I am not sure I am able to comprehend perception. I like to write my dairies and enjoy them very much, but writing for an audience, trying to convey an idea or an message is much more difficult. The skepticism of acceptance and the baseless ridicule makes me only wish I could elucidate better.

The thinking that goes into my writing is what makes me unique, or so I like to believe. The sense of putting my words in ways that can affect another man's thinking, opening the boundaries and crossing the borders is what makes me write this blog. As I gain more experience and cultivate the skills to write fashionably, I only hope to derive the same pleasure I am doing now.

As I wind up there is a very famous quote that stays with me "cogito ergo sum", "I think, therefore I am".

Ranganathan street - the whys and agony

The Ranganathan street is a famous place for shopping in chennai, it is like the mini chickpet or avenue road of bangalore. The analogy I draw here only establishes the feel for the place nowhere near close to describing its appearance. 

I was warned beforehand about this place, but my curiosity got me for the better. The day I was on this street was right after Pongal, one of the biggest festivals in southern India, celebrated with great ardor and pompous show. The drive to Ranganathan street was very pleasant, going from sterling road nungambakkam through to usman road. 

The sight that awaits you at the end of this journey is nothing short of breathtaking, suffocating and overwhelming all at the same time. Alighting my the auto right at the end of the flyover, I was greeted to a show of lights, a dazzling display of greens, yellows and oranges. The streets on Usman road were clogged to a small extent, I was beguiled at the appearance. As I walked led by my aunt, I bumped into a few people, lost my aunts hand for a second but quickly regained it. There were numerous street peddlers selling fancy trinkets, nothing the sort i had not seen in Bangalore. 

In a few moments of pondering and maneuvering I reached ranganathan street, the street was clogged with people. The only comparison I could draw was commercial street and that does not even cut the mark, there were no chances of vehicular movement on the street, the people were choker blocked. Tall building flanked me on both sides, saravana stores, jeyachandran textiles, the flashing lights, small ice cream stalls, Gobi Manchurian vendors, this one street could cut the records.

I was accompanying my mother and aunts on a shopping spree. I have heard you should never go shopping with women, the corollary to that never go shopping with 3 women. I was stuck at hours end while shopping for sarees, gold and various other trinkets. The one odd thing was that there were no chairs at any of the shops, absolutely none, except for the gold shop. This meant I was either standing clueless or wandering aimless in the aisles, sometimes caring to venture out to the streets for a breath of fresh air.

I was always under the impression my family had a fetish for gold, fool me not, but the amount of gold I saw people buy in the close to half hour in the gold shop, made me understand gold rush. I would never say gold was a precious metal at the speed which it was sold.

Tired and famished I finally retreated a quick getaway to another smaller shop right at the very mention. The last shop we visited was on the usman road and a relatively quiet one, after this it was a happy ride back home to dinner. A truly awe inspiring experience, huge buildings to cater to people's shopping sprees. The women in Bangalore have no clue what they are missing out on!!

The grim reaper calling

I have witnessed the work of the grim reaper thrice in the last year. Death is a state of mind more than the state of body. The mental anguish that one goes through on losing someone near and dear is only comprehensible on a deeper level. It batters you down and puts you in a state of shock and denial. It takes a small chronicling to justify your fears and emotions. The way we handle the reapers handiwork is entirely individualistic

Everyone suffers and mourns the loss of a good soul to the reaper but as we mourn this loss, singing praises on the good soul that was taken away, there is a definite sympathy that goes out to the family's loss. The assurances come from family we hardly know, from friends we have hardly met. The words should be comforting, although they are mostly not and some people even have the expectations to make you feel ecstatic. There are people who walk up to you and tell you "to take some courage". I had one ringing thought, "is it selling in the market, how much does it go for nowadays?" 

The gruesome experience of the hospitals as we wait only for the inevitable is probably the most traumatic experience. There is a long wait in the lobbies and sleeping wards. The air is so gloomy and thick all mirth disappears instantly. The plain walls and the clean sheets makes you think, the deeper thoughts only dwelling on the inevitable pain and suffering. As there are other people who make it out of a hospital alive, it gives us a little hope. We find friends in the hospitals, sometimes in the lobbies and sometimes in the sleeping wards, people who are going through the same trauma as we are. There is a definite exchange of diseases and  doctors treatments, then comes the banter on some radical new therapy you read on the internet. It just goes to say further, the reapers handiwork is something no one wishes to discuss. The optimistic views are our solace. The dreaded words of the doctor, "please say your last goodbyes" or "I think its time you informed others in the family". The phrases so clichéd and a doctors best defence against his emotions are a nightmare for the people who hear it.

Death gives me an understanding of life and the realization of the triviality of it;. the inevitable end to every life and the passage thereon. Accepting death as a final guest of life is hard, the emotions swell up and you are never ready for the losses. We will miss them and their company, perhaps the only solace we can take is that they are in a better place and their soul rests in peace.

Real Progress

There is a fractal calculation for satisfaction and progress. In the geometric terms satisfaction would be sustained within the fractals and bound by a desire of fulfillment, progress would be beyond the fractals in a grey area of dissatisfaction and a move towards remediating it.

Real progress only stems from the trade between a desire to achieve and a desire for happiness. The phenomenon is quite a surprise, as we tend to achieve more we are seeking to further our achievements. The satisfaction we derive is only by furthering our achievements. Our goals tend to be never ending and our drive for satisfying this urge takes us beyond capacities we never imagined. If we were only to be satisfied with one goal and stopped after achieving it, the world might be a happier place but would definitely be the duller for it.

From the times of Da Vinci and Franklin to Einstein and Bardeen. These were individuals who were not satisfied with their surroundings and wanted to change them. They were not happy at the way things worked and sought to improve on them. These individuals had knowledge which they gained from various sources and used them to garner real progress for the human kind. They were people who transgressed science, art and philosophy to achieve things which most of the people during their only laughed at.

In the name of real progress we see a lot of inadvertent skulduggery. The many shenanigans people try to pull off and the way people tout to mark progress makes me vile and sometimes take a hit where it hurts the most. As I advent on my journey of discoveries and propositions I only hope to have the broad view and the great skills of observation and analysis these giants in history possessed.

Friendships

Among the friends we choose we always make a distinction to find the ones with similar interests. We have a strong tendency to bond to other individuals. Why do we do this, and how do we pick out the best of our friends? Is there some magic formula, a common thread that binds us? Are all our friends genetically linked. Is there a science to making friends?

Well of course I am in no position to answer that, but I do observe a very strong pattern and can classify them into two broad categories support and occupational. There are a few of our friends who support us, who are the source of our strength, whom we confide our darkest secrets and desires to. There are the "other guys", the occupational friends, whom we have a working relationship with. As time has passed by and as many things have transgressed over the years the apparent fact is that the importance we give to each of these types of friends differs. I have seen among my own group of friends when sometimes they make out time to come and chat with the "gang" and at other times just plain ignore the invites and search for greener pastures.

My choice among friends has not been based on availability or support, a strong sense of community or fraternity. I am confounded at my own choices in friends. The various strong willed creatures who make up my social circle and entertain me at times and annoy at some others are my prized acquaintances. Some I have met over tea or lunch, others in college, others at social gatherings.This unique set and subset of my social endeavors are incomprehensible as a selection to me. 

As I share a deep bond with my friends and form a kinship with them I see my own new community and family emerge. The source of my strengths and probably my greatest weaknesses. I do not share any genes with  these strangers, yet some are my brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles. This tendency perplexes my curiosity and only fascinates me further to delve and understand the thinking behind such behavior.