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Showing posts from 2011

Will India Ever Be Free?

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Another birthday of a great nation, another occasion for celebration of the spirit of Freedom, freedom gained through countless sacrifices, wrought in the pain and sorrow of thousands of patriotic Indians, is upon us. The hopes, dreams and visions of a country that beckoned in the horizon during those heady pre-independence days, and which dreams propelled men, women and children to march undaunted in the face of the severest of colonial atrocities, have taken shapes and forms very disparate from the originals, which seem to have moved further and further away with every step this country has taken, like a rainbow after a rainstorm. Even as India celebrates its 65 th anniversary of Independence, with the symbolic parades and the customary address of the Prime Minister from atop the Red Fort, on a rainy and gloomy day in Delhi, and his words of promise and assurance sounding more unconvincing than ever before, the bleak prospect which the Prime Minister must have surveyed through the

The Truth About Beauty

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A handsome person, a scenic location, a magnificent structure, a fascinating movie – all leave us with a sense of satisfaction at the end of each encounter, and an urge to relive the experience. All such experiences, in the dazzle of those incipient moments, seem to give us an impression of true beauty. Yet, as the encounters repeat, our delight seems to fade, and we begin to feel that something is amiss, something to sustain our pleasure at that initial, euphoric level, which might make us think: was that true beauty that we had seen, or was it just an illusion?   The variegated gifts of this world to Mankind have always had the potential to charm and enchant our hearts and minds, but if treated only as visual delights, such objects may become nothing more than mere sources of superficial pleasure, enjoyment, entertainment, and even ecstasy within the moments that these entities are fresh to the eyes and the mind; which again broaches the big question – what, then is true beauty? Sure

The River of Fire

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The diminutive old man, calm and unflustered, with a blissful smile always on his lips, looked in complete peace with himself and all that was going on around him. Simply attired in a white dhoti and kurta, sometimes sitting, sometimes reposing, at times addressing in an amiable tone the huge crowd of followers that had gathered to support his cause, at other times speaking to members of the press and electronic media with the same calmness and affability of tone but with words that bespoke of an unwavering resolve, the Mahatma of modern India has embarked upon on yet another mission of social reform. Just when all seemed to be lost, and the nation seemed to be plunging inexorably to depths of no return, a small spark ignited a fire to dispel the gloom to some extent, and the hearts of millions are filled with hope once again. The forces of darkness, however, look to be in no mood to relinquish their grip on the reins, and the path to freedom from their clutches is yet a difficult ta

INDIA - A Painful Transition

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Many feel that our country is in the throes of a painful transition. Every nation, they say, in its ascent towards prosperity and supremacy, has had to tread this path. Such a supposition, however flawed, seems to be the only recourse of a beleaguered population sapped dry by a system that is getting more corrupt and more reckless by the day. I am one among the many who find some succor in clinging to that view, which is why I choose to look the other way whenever the morning paper reveals another scam of gargantuan proportions, although it makes me cringe in despair. It is undeniably very hard to endure, knowing that we have no option other than to stand and watch the termites eat through the woodwork, and drag the feet of a nation raring to surge forward, repeatedly backward. I was overcome by such poignant feelings as I sat watching one of the many talk shows that have become the life-blood of news channels on TV. The speakers were familiar faces, stalwarts of social and political

Symbols For Eternity

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  After months of falling prey to a dissuading mind, and succumbing to an innate aversion for a daunting task, I knew that there was no escape from the inevitable; I had to clean out the garage someday, and sooner was the job done, the better. So, suitably attired for the occasion in a coverall and a hood, and armed with a broom, I set about my task with as much earnestness as I could garner. As I gingerly cleared out packages, bundles, bottles, wires and other motley oddments from the racks and shelves and got about dusting and cleaning the cobwebs off the same, I chanced upon a dusty but neatly wrapped bundle of books. On opening the wrapping off the weighty pack to check the contents, what I should find but a stack of comics, long forgotten in the mazy confines of the garage. In the bundle was an assortment of books that formed the very lifeblood of my childhood days, a precious collection of the greatest stories that my puerile fancies were built upon - tales of heroism and strengt

Whither Indian Civilization?

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I wandered upon the edge of the sidewalk searching for a spot to step on to the street. The roadside was littered with all kinds of scrap – waste paper, wrappers, cigarette butts, loose earth, plastic bottles and bags, empty tobacco sachets etc – to such a degree as to make it difficult for any person to alight from the sidewalk without landing on some kind of junk. I did manage to cross that barrier somehow, and hurried to cross the street on seeing the pedestrian light turn green. However, green does not always mean “go” which discovered to my chagrin as a motorcycle whizzed past me at breakneck speed in spite of all the red lights. I got to the other end of the street unscathed, thanks to providence, and decided to do a bit of shopping. There were makeshift shops by the dozen on the pavement itself, selling everything that any regular shop would sell, and with everything spread out on the pavement, blocking off half the width of the pavement in the process. Anyway, I threaded myself

A Wall Too High

Another year has come upon this world, and into everyone’s life, with promises of new beginnings, truthfulness, faithfulness, sincerity, diligence, and many such resolutions that the arrival of a new year inspires in every heart. Yet, although it is a satisfying feeling to make a firm resolve, it takes more than enthusiasm to actually implement a resolution in one’s life so as to make the difference that one expects. It is in the course of this journey to scale greater heights of improvement that one realizes how the simplest things can actually be the hardest to achieve. To moot the case in point, I can cite no better example than mine in striving for better things in 2010; a sequel to a resolution that I had taken at the start of that year. I had been persuaded that being good is good for me, and doing oneself good is the hardest thing in the world. It was a challenge I accepted with disdain, and in one heady moment of determination and gusto I resolved that I was going to be a Good

I am.....

Treading untiringly upon the endless street, Neither at a gallop; nor on leaden feet, Bereft of form, devoid of shape; stranger to birth, unknown to death, I have waited for none; yet waited on with bated breath, And visions of joy, fear, ecstasy and sorrow in the tidings I might bring, As summer turns into autumn, and winter into spring I am ever the inert passerby, always on the go, Yet, the patience of some I try; yet others want me to be slow, Some curse my arrival, and wish I never did show, Some thank my presence, and wish I never would go Some dread my growth to see, some try to outgrow me, While some fall behind, and just let me be. I am hailed by Man to be the healer supreme, The panacea for all wounds, however extreme. Behind me I leave a trail of gold, That anoints every bygone in its mold, To reflect and cherish and yearn to return, And to retrace its every step, be it one of acceptance or of spurn I see the Universe go round, a