19. India Has No Clue What "modern" Means.

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Listening to: Dev.D - Attyachaar - Rock Version
via FoxyTunes
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The Sri Ram Sena debacle in Bangalore needs no introduction, I hope. There seem to be two sides here -
1. The Hindu right wing (means "radical", maybe?) and people who think they're right.
2. The "Pink Chuddies" brigade.

[Please google any term you find unfamiliar - anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis, as well as a first-time reader, would notice that I hate sprinkling links all over my text like confetti. I'm old school, and a book-lover, and I hate the liberal use of highlighted words in anything I read, since that means the author is overtly insulting my intelligence. Anyone who feels the need to be sarcastic because I use italics and bold is welcome to do so in the privacy of his own home, and needs to be reminded that I've been decent and not highlighted "liberal" in the above paragraph, which is something they must've missed.]

Well, back to those 2 sides in this argument -to be referred to as Sides 1 and 2, respectively.

Side 1 is very familiar to us, right from the times of Babri Masjid and Graham Staines. In recent times, they have resorted to such co-curricular activities as moral policing, torturing card shop owners and generally being pains in the ..ahem, neck.
Side 2 consists less of those who were inside the pubs that were attacked, and more of people who were more fortunate, and took it upon themselves to get their keyboards and pens busy, chanting support for the pub-goers.

As usual, I think that when people take sides, they immediately lose the privilege of seeing the complete picture. Not having taken either side, I think both are neither wrong nor right.

There is evident moral degradation in Indian society, but I believe it has been happening over a few hundred years, not a few decades, as is commonly believed. Westernization can't be blamed for the loss of our cultural fabric - It simply gave many an outlet to demonstrate that very well-veiled threadbare morality - All the B-Grade movie watchers, who were, and still are frowned upon, today have much easier access to what they were seeking, and in better quality. Who needs a seedy "Daaku Hasina" when a "Neal n Nikki" is much more easily procured, and in fact, because of the availability, more socially accepted?

Most of the promoters on side 2 have suggested that the pub-goers and Valentines must be excused, and similarly accepted, since culture is an ever-changing entity, and it borrows and evolves. True, indeed.

Our culture, especially, has a flair for the borrowing part. Most of modern Hindi is a khichdi of Urdu, some actual Hindi, and English - Anyone knows that chaste Hindi, pure Urdu and fluent English, on their own, are the best ways of looking like a freak in the average conversation - Fluent English less so because of the general lift in social status and economic opportunity it seems to ensure. Cross-language mixtures of words and phrases (Such as "adjushht") are rather frequent, too.

But, closer observation reveals that Indian culture has failed in its evolution, in a way a lot of countries have. In fact, barring a few exceptions, every other culture that has resisted this failure (and even some that haven't), has ended up being so watertight, that human rights violations and genocide become the order of the day. Cases in point being Turkey, Taliban-era Afghanistan, Iran, and a host of other nations.

India's failure is in finding its own modernity.

I. A culture must be enriched from within, by significant contributions by the people who identify with it. AND/OR

II. A nation with many subcultures should let them converse, mix up real well, to create its own "evolved culture". These subcultures themselves, may be derived from the cultures of other different nations and religions, but, in their final contributions to this nation's final culture, should only be faint traces, indistinguishable from each other .

These 2 ways, among many others, are the legit ways of acquiring "modernity" for a culture, because "modernity" simply means what stage your culture is in now, and how it got there.

What's modern today, will be outdated in a couple of years, and retro-cool the next decade. I already have some clothes that I call "early-90's retro" - unfaded jeans and a WWE-themed T-shirt. Late 80's, they were considered "modern"; early 90's, they were "acceptable"; early 2000's, they were "passe"; today, they're "retro". (And yes, I wear them on occasion.)

The failure lies in recognizing that over the last 400 years or so, and more conspicuously, since 1991's Liberalization, India's modernity has essentially been borrowed.

This has been the pitfall of many an Asian nation, to think that everything "modern" had to be "European" (later, "American"). This article has, in its background, the story of America's modernity. It's the story of a nation that had to create its identity from scratch, and made such a good job of it, that other nations adopted its "modernity" for their own. Like the Europeans before them, the Americans represent technology, affluence, education and all things worthwhile to the Third World's population. In the process, these nations preserve their indigenous culture only as tourist attractions. Case in point being modern Japan.

Our fashions are Indian, the cycles of fads and trends are very Indian, but the attitudes, the slang, the way we speak, the responses are modern, but not locally made. We have borrowed quite some modernity in our bid to "catch up" with the world.

We, as Indians have barely invented anything culturally new for ourselves in a long time. We just never had enough time.

The Japanese proudly pronounce English words wrongly (English itself is pronounced Engrish in Japanese), but correctly in accordance with their alphabet. That kind of nationalist culture-protection is often only symbolic. Japan's cities, the "modern wear" of its youth and old alike, are western. The kimono, like our "Gandhi cap" has become a symbol of a bygone age. Both these pieces of apparel became unwieldy in changing times, but instead of creating a homegrown alternative or modifying what we have to stay fashionable, we've just taken western improvements. The comparison with Japan ends here, though - they have ensured that modernity, borrowed as it was, was used to compete effectively with the West. India, on the other hand, is a consumer of modernity; we just "do" modern, we don't "use" it.

We "consume" borrowed cultures, savouring the delicacies they have to offer - like dishes at a buffet. It is also our responsibility to use what we have borrowed, to make us a more "effective" culture, not just a more "good-looking"one. We are responsible for creating a new, unique persona for the nation, instead of making it look like more than one nation living together.

India's dominant religion does not change itself, there's hardly any revolutions going on there, because it's pretty much an unorganised, scattered thing already. If any rebel factions were to form, whom would they split from? You know, like "Protestant Hindus"? Where's the Hindu equivalent of the Pope figure anyway? How can you fight authority where there's no such single thing? A "Hinduism rebel" just ends up fighting his family, thus ensuring his thoughts are never considered by society at large.

The political parties do a good job of splitting up as factions, except the offspring, and its many fathers, all look the same. Rest assured, we won't have anything like an Obama election for a long time.

The urban and rural of India are well-unaware of each other, the urban live in their own income-level, education-level pockets.

I think I've cited enough examples - both local and international, for the idea to be pretty clear. We haven't failed in finding our modernity, we just never pursued it whole-heartedly. We've confused modernity with urban, with rich, with western.
Modern means a change in attitudes, a willingness to break the old guard, the guts to stand up for something you've tested (with logic and not blind belief), the simple sense to test everything before you swallow it.

Any nation that can hold onto this little idea, can always be proud of its modernity - because it paved its roads for its people to travel faster and comfortably, not to catch up with the Uncle Sams of the world (, or as we know, not to keep the local politicians wealthy).

So, India has no clue. None at all. For now.


PS: Ironic, therefore, that I'm listening to the local lyrics of that "Attyachaar" song set to a rock arrangement. Modern song, right? ;)

18. ASI Tukaram Omble

He was an unsung hero when I met him. He was also dead.
SO maybe I didn't actually meet him, I met the moment. The moment when India witnessed one of its bravest acts of police bravery. Thankfully, in the time that I read about it, then got indignant and cursed the media for not showing his face on TV, Times of India and Rediff got the same email forward that I did, and decided to put up the news. The gist of the email is as follows:
The untold story of the bravest of them all - Assistant sub-inspector Omble.

TAKING POSITIONS

Assistant sub-inspector Omble was asked by his senior to take up position on Marine Drive on Wednesday night, after the news of firings at Leo-pold Café, Oberoi and Taj Hotels came in.



THE ALERT!

Around 12.45 am, he got an alert on his walkie-talkie that two terrorists had hijacked a Skoda car and were heading for Girgaum Chowpatty.


THE ARRIVAL

Just minutes later, the Skoda whizzed past him.



CHASING THE CULPRIT

Omble jumped on to his two-wheeler and chased the car. A team from DB Marg police station was setting up a police barricade (nakabandi) at the Chowpatty signal.



OPEN FIRE

As the car approached the signal, the terrorists opened fire on the cops, but were forced to reduce speed because of the barricades.




BRAVE ACT

Omble overtook the Skoda and stopped in front of it, forcing the driver of the car to swerve right and hit the divider.



NABBING THE TERRORIST

With the terrorists momentarily distracted, Omble sprang toward one of them, Amir Kasab, and gripped the barrel of the AK47 rifle with both hands



BEARING BULLETS

With the barrel pointing towards Omble, Amir pulled the trigger. A spray of bullets entered his stomach and intestine



THE CALL OF DUTY

Omble collapsed, but held on to the gun till he breathed his last, stopping Amir from shooting anyone else.



GUNNING DOWN

The other cops, who by that time had killed the other terrorist, Ismail, pounced on Amir and captured him.



SOLE INFORMER

The investigation agencies were reported to have gathered a lot of information from the sole terrorist captured.




SUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT

There was no way assistant sub-inspector (ASI) Tukaram Omble, 48, could have survived the encounter. But before dying, he ensured that at least one of the 26/11 terrorists was caught alive.




MANY DEAD, ONE CAUGHT

Brave hearts like Omble gave India its honour back. It's because of them that the nation stands taller and prouder.

There's something the mail didn't have, and Rediff did; that was his picture.

Hope you get better media coverage in Heaven, Mr. Omble. RIP.

17. Define Quality?

Click on Image to View

Something I found when I was doing something AS boring as researching for an assignment. A "happy" coincidence.

16. Unanswered Prayers and Two Indias

They say there's two Indias. As I watch NDTV news telling me that, as of now, 7 blasts have taken place in Delhi, killing 18 people, and that some lame terrorist organisation has taken self-glorified responsibility for such cowardice - I recognise too many Indias to count. I wish it stopped at the official 4 of religions, 21 of languages or 28 of states.

There's an India that wants to cover up from their conscience, all that's going on. I've written this when Mumbai was in blood, that the spirit of the city was an excuse for not giving a damn. Except, its got Barkha Dutt's seal of approval now. Ofcourse, that doesn't change a thing, now does it? Go watch Mumbai Meri Jaan. The news is too real.

There's an India that doesn't see the beauty of its democracy, in all its failings. The kind of India that thinks that minorities are ill-treated here, that the flaws are bigger than the whole. For someone who seeks to improve this, yes, the flaws look bigger. We don't do anything half as well as they should be done, but we do them a lot better than others who claim success.

We are a happier country, in general. But that also makes us complacent. The same things that make bribery and corruption inherent to us, the same things that make us, by international acceptance, "the laziest on the planet", also make us slower to react to things, and make us an unaffected bunch. We're getting used to it, slowly, that bomb blasts will happen - we're putting them up there with the general inevitability of death. The only thing that doesn't quite sink in, is that it could happen to me. Not the city next door, not the people we don't know. It could be a neighbour, a friend, a colleague, a mother.
So when it happens, the grief, the rage is confined to those who are immediately affected.

I'm already writing cliches.

There's an India that figures in statistics. 7.2% unemployed, 25% below the poverty line. Unelectrified villages, dirty water, another village in Tamil Nadu that gets all of Europe's garbage. The children represented by the children in the !dea ad. Statistics. Like the people who died in Delhi.

There's an India that stars in statistics of a different kind. The 8.9(now 7.7)% of growth, the $million and $billion of mergers and overseas acquisitions by India Inc, the falling rupee and the Jack and Jill BSE sensex, all of which are rather impotent figures compared with the twelve-point-something inflation rate.

Thats the idea of statistics, you see - they don't care about each other. All these numbers look good on presentations and news articles, but otherwise, they're just as meaningless as whether 18 died in Delhi or 20. As meaningless as the spirit of a city covering up for "I'm not dead so let's get on with it."

There are more Indias, I guess - I meet a new one every other day. And thanks to my ability to forget stuff faster than I believe I will, this is pretty much what I managed.

And if some of this stuff reads contradictory, I'm Indian finally, remember?
All I know is I was trying to pray when the reports said no one was killed and the injuries were at 30. This post is my frustration at an unanswered prayer - maybe a prayer too late.

15. The Hyphen Strikes Back

MOOD ----> Eccentric, as usual
POST TYPE : ARTICLE
LISTENING TO - Evanescence - My Immortal (Instrumental)

Some time in the recent past, the OED dropped hyphens from 16,000 originally hyphenated words in one go. Predictably, the itchy blog fingers of the literary world rushed to the crime scene and delivered their postmortem reports and conspiracy theories about the hyphen. However, because I was busy NOT reading blogs at that time in 2007, I didn't notice this. Most of these articles dealt with how "ice-cream", "cry-baby", and "bumble-bee" would now be "ice cream" , "crybaby" and "bumblebee"(i.e., in the dictionary as well). Here's one of those articles, and I suggest you read it to understand my outrage at it : "Demise of the hyphen"

In any case, like I said, I'd been completely ignorant of this news report, though I did experience some deja vu reading it.
Until someone at work posted a link to one of these articles on the company intranet. Spurred by the word "demise" applied to something as undeserving as a hyphen, I ranted off a reply to it. Here it is:

While everyone has been speaking of the hyphen's "demise", I was drawn into the hyphen's apparent conspiracy for its survival. Yep, the hyphen, or at least its creators, are the originators of a plot that's been around [sic] since at least the birth of printing. The very purpose of the hyphen ensures both its seeming demise, and its actual resurgence.

Here's why.

The hyphen, regardless of what it was originally intended to do, is a method of legalizing inexistent words now. Just as pot-belly was slang once, and potbelly is acceptable today, the first step towards a compound word getting official OED sanction is using the hyphen. Until we use a hyphen, the compound word isn't one, its two words. "Ice cream" would have been added to grammar textbooks, with "ice" as an example of a modifier for "cream". If not for the hyphen. If today, its an accepted OED freshman, its because of its association with the outcast hyphen.

In other words, the very words that seemed to have lost their hyphens, exist only because of it. The hyphen is like Cupid. Two words meet because of it, and then, it leaves, having served its purpose. (I never knew a hyphen could get me this mushy.)

In addition, while the news article that hinted at the hyphen's death seemed to presume that informal writing and e-mails have made people less inclined to hit the hyphen on their keyboards, it has also made people lazier at looking up or learning the right word for what they intend to say. In most probability, given English's tendency to swipe words for new objects from other languages, and even otherwise, they won't find any proper, acceptable word in most cases, that doesn't draw a few "what-a-nerd" jeers from others. For example, "what-a-nerd" has no known substitute. That's two hyphens, right there. One each for fig leaf and pot belly. Take that. Creative writing is the new breeding ground of the supposedly extinct hyphen.

For every fig-leaf or pot-belly that the OED ditches, for fig leaves and pot bellies, there will rise a "what-a-nerd" or a "don't-talk-to-me-that-way look" to resurrect the hyphen in its own hippie, counterculture avatar. The hyphen may not be official, or approved, but its one damn good survivor.

The John-Rambo-meets-Nelson-Mandela of punctuation.

4 more hyphens there.
Amen.

14.Writer 3: The Drunk Writer

MOOD ----> SO not drunk
POST TYPE :THOUGHT
LISTENING TO - The Vodafone ad "Every day I want to fly..."



I don’t write much, to be very literal. Half the time, I write drafts inside my head, edit and scrap (the old meaning – to crumple and dunk it into a waste paper basket) them – all in 10 minutes, at the most, of brainstorming. That way, I need to write less, but it also means that the meanest critic of them all tears my stuff to shreds even before I get to write it. Today I went ahead and disabled the little personal censor in my head, to try to be a prolific writer- a “writey writer” – the kind that sits at his desk, and turns into a (rather slow) human printing press.

However, on embarking upon this endeavour for “generating more output”, I was stumped – How DO you write more than 2 things a day?
I’ve already bled the “Think On Paper” maxim dry, so I needed something more intelligent than that, though finally, its all we ever do, and its all I’ve done here.

The train of thought derailed, soon my mind was searching in little word clouds, looking for something to write in a sea of randomness, till I found an intoxicated man with a dishevelled beard and an old fountain-pen in his pocket, hanging on to some driftwood, and evidently trying to paddle his way to some destination. Similar predicament.

Drunk, Doped, Stoned – Dishevelled, Inebriated, and Social Nuisance by choice – is how a few successful and way too many wannabe writers ‘conduct themselves with dignity’. Ever disinclined to create such a spectacle of myself, and hence suffer that kind of social visibility and notoriety, I’ve always been an abstainer.

Maybe not in the perfect sense of the word, which would raise embarrassing, though irrelevant, questions regarding my sexual orientation, among other things. However, atleast for the drink part of the bargain I can say I’m free of even the fateful desire to “try it just once”.

I’ve tasted just enough of the vile stuff to gauge its utter lack of taste. However, anyone who has progressed beyond the “taste” part would enthusiastically tell me it never was about the taste – its about losing yourself, about getting roughly 2 screws in your knees, one in your neck, a few hundred in your spine, and a hell lot of nuts in your head loose.

There IS a subspecies that prides itself on appearing ‘reasonably sober’ after an insane amount of booze – “holding your drink” – an elite club of people such as my friend Sujeet Ghanvat and Oskar ‘Schindler’s List’ Schindler. It’s a limitation, but most often a skill, in a world that gets dead drunk and drunk dead when it means business – so I’ll reserve any discussion of it for another day. For now, this article will deal with the singular destiny of drinking – as a means for writers to get drunk.

Writers get drunk, evidently , for the same reasons that other mortals do – to get those ole’ joints a little less stiff – though, being more mental in their acrobatics than other mortals, the idea is to get the mind more flexible. Writers who drink, essentially heighten a particular desirable mental faculty or suppress one that creates noise and disturbs the thought process. Ofcourse, it goes without saying that none of this is, or can be, planned in advance, and our sorry sozzled scribe can only hope its time for Cinderella and not Mr. Hyde.

The writing I admire is so often a critique of society, and good writers so often unique in their revelations about it, that driving to their unusual destinations would require the driver to be “under the influence”. Ironically, however, it is quite possible that when the mind is drunk, it is more immune to any external influence that may temper, sober, censor or otherwise ruin a masterpiece.

So in my quest for today’s third article, I wondered if it would help me to booze a little, or make me another wasted wannabe in some more-than-beer brawl, losing my head instead of a few screws. But then, aren’t there extraordinary men of letters who haven’t touched a drop? People who seem to get the required hardware loosened up enough to beat the commandments embossed in their grey cells, without requiring any chemical interference?

The way I put it, it almost seems superhuman. Drunk without drinking.
Brings images of people like Jackie Chan in “The Legend of the Drunken Master” and Johnny Depp from “Pirates of the Caribbean” to mind.
It was a mild, heavily-veiled jibe I often endured in college – that most of my mates kept their heads about them better after drinking, than I did, without it. That my comprehension of the world, and hence my means of getting through life, were both rather simple, in comparison to theirs, which rivalled chess moves. My honesty was initially appreciated by new acquaintances till they realised it wasn’t deliberate at all, much less voluntary.

For my part, I’ve enjoyed the slight, and sometimes well-pronounced ripples I’ve always seen in my reality.
Like being drunk, I’ve always found it easier to fall in love, and harder to stop loving than the average human-sans-drink, because my intoxication, and the love, didn’t wear off.
I’ve found it easier to understand “Maya” and other alternate realities, descriptions of utopias, anti-utopias and dystopias –worlds different, better or worse, dream-like or nightmarish, or maybe just ever so slightly different. Knowing that the world we know is just one of infinite possibilities, that its hard-lipped deadlines and all the progress we’ve known could be a digital joke or a never-ending drug trip.
I’ve floated and levitated and felt vertigo at sea level.
I’ve touched hearts, literally, and felt heartbeats pulse through me.
I’ve sung without reason or talent, and not bothered about how good it sounded.
I’ve done things just because they could be done, not judging my sanity – I’ve loved losing it.
I’ve danced alone, and danced long after the music was heard no more.
And yes, I’ve gotten into more-than-beer brawls and lazy-tongue slurred speech, all without the benefit of a single drop of more-than-beer, or beer, or dope.
Most of all,
I’ve been as much of a writer as I could be right now, without the benefit of any obvious writing talent – because first and foremost, a writer, I believe, should show the world, through his life, the absolute bliss of complete, drunk freedom, and I believe it my privilege to be a writer without much writing, and drunk without drinking.

Nothing singular about that privilege, though, because I also believe that attaining the state of forgetting yourself, or of acute awareness, both usually associated with intoxication – is possible for anyone without introducing any chemical agent like alcohol or narcotics. All we need is to know that our boundaries are neither limited to, nor do they begin with, the outline of skin.

Happy Inebriety to You.

Well, I'm happy.

13. Close Encounters of the 3D kind

POST TYPE :  Article
Listening To --> Pirates of The Caribbean OST -He's a Pirate

            Thats a great piece of work you know. The theme I'm listening to. 
Some guy called Klaus Badelt.
Amazing work though. So are the movies that this theme belongs to - the Pirates trilogy. Besides a sterling performance from Johnny Depp as the now-iconic Captain Jack Sparrow,  all three movies utilised a generous but inconspicuous amount of 3D Computer-Generated Imagery (CGI). Gigantic, slimy sea monsters, the mutated crew of an entire cursed ship and in one particular sequence, the perpetually half-drunk Captain himself was changed into a skeletal, cursed being.

Yes, well thats it, rather weird sight, ain't it? The Pirates universe revelled in its weirdness, mixing fantasy into the ships and pirates as seamlessly as you would...mix guns into a Western. And CGI played no small part in this.  Here's a visual CGI marine treat if there ever was one :

Thats Davy Jones for you - go watch the movie if you want to know, all ye lazy landlubbers! or use Wikipedia like me *yawn* lol I'm quite obsessed with these movies at this point of time to showcase 3D from any other movie, if it isn't obvious already.

What you see above is fantasy being transferred from imaginative minds to 3-dimensional detail without approximation, without having someone walk upto you and say something about your imaginery being impractical -"Itne paise me itna hi milega" , whether you're the director of the movie or someone who went to watch it.

3D effects have been wowing us for years, but I think that after years of dabbling with it,experimenting, perfecting, we've finally gotten close enough to making it stand in for reality,which if I remember right, was the original purpose of good ole' "special effects".

It must be kept in mind that I'm talking strictly about creature 3D -of the moving, talking(grunting),living kind -aliens, werewolves, fantasy creatures. We've had fantastic lighting effects and still-3D(imaginary buildings, spaceships) effects as far back as Independence Day or even ET, or the faithful Star Wars lightsabres and Star Trek space- ..whatever those were. But each of these movies, and in recent times, movies such as Underworld or Van Helsing, used a mixture of 3D CGI and well-crafted models, which (, the quality of the sculpted models, and the skill of their sculptors notwithstanding,) have been used right from the beginning of fantasy movie-making.

As a software person myself, I felt rather disappointed that crafting these creature models was actually the more economic alternative to plain straight-out 3D CGI. Everything around me seemed to suggest that 3D CGI wasn't really a replacement, but an enhancement. If any of us has seen videogame trailers, they're always done tastefully, rendered to near-life dazzle or grime, they look real, and we think - "So its finally here. Real 3D. Wow." But nope, the game is released, and its back to cartoon graphics or compromised reality.

Real 3D will still take close to a decade to hit the videogame industry, since movie graphics are not rendered on minions like single Home PCs or Videogame consoles anyway, but on graphics-intensive behemoths. But judging by the spate of recent movies that have increasingly gone in for slick 3D over clay-and-styrofoam
models/creature suits for actors, such as the Pirates trilogy or the remake of King Kong, Real3D will be in the movies a lot sooner.

So what IS Real 3D? Real 3D isn't

"Final Fantasy : The Spirits Within" stuff, where everything is 3D animated, and any comparison with the real world is suspended in disbelief. Real 3D is where I can look at a computer-generated living breathing entityand observe its interactions with the real world. 
Think of  "Space Jam", and imagine Bugs Bunny being a well-textured, 
 almost tangible entity in Michael Jordan's universe. THAT's Real 3D.

To most of us viewers, including me, it honestly doesn't make a difference whether its models or Computer-generated virtuality thats populating the screen, as long as it looks real enough. but thats where my digital conscience sets in - If its a real thing, it will no doubt look real. You only need a good artist to work on a creature model to get it right -he needs to select the right materials, and get to work sculpting it. A good virtual 3D model depends on the programmer and the 3D modeller, and their ability to translate real-life physics and textures into a digital world - The basic idea of making lines of code do what nature does. Playing God again. (Incidentally, talking of styrofoam, the Davy Jones 3D CGI that we saw earlier in this article used the scanned-in texture of a coffee-stained styrofoam cup for his fishy-looking skin. 1 brownie point to the styrofoam guys.)


For someone who sticks to personal topics, talking of 3D CGI would sound strange, but this is where it gets personal. The realisation of that challenge -of making 3D behave realistically- is what excited me, and prompted this little article here. As for the immediate stimulus, it was the news of the impending 3D animated flick by South Indian ( and by earning standards, Asian) superstar Rajnikanth's daughter  featuring, quite obviously, him - here's a snap of the real thing and the virtual, juxtaposed.

And in case you want to see the video that made me stand up and feel good about Indian 3D animation - here goes :

Sultan - The Warrior teaser trailor

Jai Hind, if you liked the video. lol

12. I Wish I Wrote

When the last living thing

Has died on account of us,

How poetical it would be

If Earth could say,

In a voice floating up

Perhaps

From the floor

Of the Grand Canyon,

"It is done."

People did not like it here.

-Kurt Vonnegut

VHEMT - Official Page

11. Intelligence

Click to view larger image

Seriously.

10.2 A Little Idea on Good and Evil

"eghanvat said,
.....The problem is, we are so accustomed to look for the exceptions that what we see and talk about generally tend to be anomalies. Like extreme poverty, people from some remote place, rape, war, etc.26 September, 2007 10:50"
comment from post #10 again

I've heard this view - not as often as the fatalist views that claim that the world is going to hell, or the people who believe that stock indices and free software are going to change India and humanity, respectively, for ever. What we talk about are the things that remind us that the world exists, or is capable of existing, different from the lives we lead.
The goodness of wikipedia and the horrors mentioned above, are Good and Evil, respectively; though on opposite sides of the fence, they are both equally different from the lives we live, or have grown accustomed to. Identical in magnitude, opposites in polarity. A mathematical concept we understand when doing math, but takes some time to apply to life.

You like being at the origin?

PS: Any posts that is numbered "x.y" means its the "yth post derived from post#x" as in this post and the one before this (10.2 and 10.1) both are a result of post#10 and its comments. Thank you :)

10.1 This Just Came In.

PIC COURTESY: http://www.xkcd.com/

If you read the comment on post 10, this should be familiar to you.

I've gotten to worse places, starting from something as harmless as the word "sleep" lol.

10. A Good Hour

MOOD---->Fresh from a mental bath

POST TYPE: Intro

LISTENING TO - Nothing. Too much noise.

After waxing eloquent on the need for freedom, it took me quite a while to realise that I was being fettered by a "minimum-post-length", and managed a short, but still sensible entry for the first time.

I just did something I relish a lot - Wikipedia surfing. When whoever said that "The best things in life are free" , I'm sure he/she was talking about Love, and Truth, and other abstractions of the mind, but I'm reminded of the line whenever I go to this website. Since I spend most of my time online, (courtesy a very convenient internet time-sharing arrangement with a friend of mine) voyages of self-discovery are often just a few mouse clicks away.

So, since I'm so in love with Wikipedia, it has become a routine of mine to start from some article of interest, and then go completely on a roll, clicking on everything within that page that is interesting...The freedom to follow my thought process is only limited by the number of open pages that my computer's RAM can handle, and the topics that Wikipedia has pages for. Whats more interesting is how far from the original page you can be, just an hour into the process. You could start from a run-of-the-mill movie, and the trivia section could take you on a ride to a beautiful new idea you weren't aware of, or something that makes you ask "Why didn't I think of that?". You could start from something as trivial as a TV show, and reach a person, a story, an event, a legend.

So I've just spent another such fulfilling hour..another branching of flowcharts...reading up things I didn't even know existed, but most of the times, I'm glad they do exist.

Its possible that my posts will be influenced by what I've been reading, and in case I find the article important enough, I'll leave the link here :) so you can know why I wrote what I wrote.

For now, I'll leave it at this. The journey has only begun.

9. Discovering ..Something

MOOD----> Alerter than the last post, but still..relaxed.
POST TYPE: FreeStyle.
LISTENING TO - Jal - Aadat

Admittedly, my last post wasn't my usual style, now, was it?



A quick scan (Okay, not exactly a quick scan) down my blog will reveal that I don't have a usual style, actually. I have moods, and I do try to decode my mood and write it down so that you can be warned. I read my friend Sharad's blog ... and I discovered i wasn't actually blogging at all...I mean, look at this.
Okay, I know I don't like conforming to this definition or that, but..you know, If I call it a blog , I need to write something about myself too I guess.
Its a weird and yet, nice time in life when you see so many things you want to do, and so little time.
Its like the past falls off, and the future is a banyan tree I'm standing under.(huh?) I mean there's so much that I can choose from here, and following those choices to their next level, in my mind, is a great pastime right now. Like a little flowchart in my head.
Also known as daydreaming. But seriously. They say youth's imagination is limitless, and the opportunities and chances are boundless...so here I am.

There's a n-pronged fork in the road - so many options that counting them would be equal to neglecting their value. I see myself in a hundred different versions and roles, each a new person in himself. The trick herein is to select the option that lets you keep the rest. To walk a path, and still have an eye on the other paths, because you didn't love them any less.

And I sit down to think what I've thought a million times over -Is life a mission or a dream?
The answers will take time...for now, the question is enough.

8. GOD, Unlimited

[A Brief Intro: Six Months since my last post - a course at NIIT and some tinkering with game programming - okay, that was for my conscience ;) ]

MOOD -----> Relaxed

POST TYPE : THOUGHT,EXTENDED. Go Figure. lol

LISTENING TO - Goo Goo Dolls - Iris

Religion and God have been at loggerheads inside my head for as long as I can remember. Being born into a ritualistic religion meant that I was completely free to stay a mindless devotee. I now consider it my luck and my privilege that I was given the option of meaninglessness within a spiritual framework, because it told me that even this is possible, and you have the option to get plain sick of it.
The freedom to know there is a barrier to be transcended, a prison I must know before I escape from it. As Jonathan Livingston Seagull would say, "to rise to the next level.. to learn high speed flying."

The religion I was born into,
is not distinguished by any superiority over other contemporaries, and has not even a chance of putting up a good fight when it comes to the War of Conversions. I’m a Hindu, and besides ignorance and pop culture references to “Swami”s and “Guru”s – I haven’t heard an informed view on Hinduism from anyone who’s not a Hindu(…and from Most Hindus as well). So, I have no idea what anyone outside of India would know about being a Hindu.

Hinduism, *for its part, has always been only a way of life, even in the Indian subcontinent, despite its plethora of Gods and customs. There is no standardised procedure for "creating" a Hindu out of someone, probably because when Hinduism originated, there were no other religions on this planet, only ways of life - Hinduism got its name ages after its origins in the "Vedic Civilization", seemingly from the Indus(colloq. Sindhu) river. No messiah, no single point in time when it can be said to have been “born”. It is distinctive.

However, *for its part, it has its own ‘atrocities and violations of human rights’ strewn throughout a history less global, but just as eventful, as any other religion.
But unlike other religions, which have moved with the times and adopted new media and technology for self-promotion - Cinema, Education, Literature - Hinduism and the average Hindu have become diluted. Despite the distinctive origins, it is, eventually, the same.
Some diluted by over-eager advertisers, some others diluted by unenthusiastic ones – all religions have the same fate.

Since my intention is not to attempt a treatise on Hinduism, I must clarify that I use it only as a singular example of a religion that is slightly different from the often stereotypical framework of religions, and my description thus far, has been to logically find out how it was possible for me to outwardly seem a Hindu, and yet stay detached from it - It is this dilution that enabled my "meaninglessness within a spiritual framework".
While for other religions, this meaninglessness is painted over, new layer over layer, by frequent reprisals of messiah sagas and the resultant brainwashed generations, my particular religion didn't bother to maintain an impressive and contemporary advertisement on the "Path to God" - making it easier for me to see what I haven't been doing to reach God. Besides, being in India has the advantage that the only brainwash education is even slightly capable of, is patriotism. More about that later.

I used to, and still do, in some ways, admire the often mature origins, and motives of religions other than my own. One stresses on "discipline", another on "compassion", a third on "inner peace" - states of the mind.
God knows what He wants us to do, but popular literature would seem to suggest that the above mentioned "states" of the human mind are generally spiritually desirable. The real answers? Well...like I said and like we often mutter to ourselves, God knows.
We have these approximations to work with for now. But every one of these get-rich schemes for spirituality, that we call religions, (including my own) seems to think that every human being is born with some amount of spiritual questioning.

Every religion seems to assume that all human beings are born seekers.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. I don't know what THAT truth is, but I've met a substantial subset of the human population that would exchange the glory of turbulent quest, for the peace that comes with practiced mindlessness. In other words, I’d rather stay put than leave the firm I’m ground I’m standing on.

The average human being (say, "A") isn't on a purposeful quest to find the Creator, and/or (His) reasons for (our) Creation. The incompletion and flaws in the product called "human being", however, lead A to seek completion and perfection - to seek love, satisfaction, and fame, and money, and given the right overdose of religious Inspirin ....salvation.

Our religions prescribe mental states to be attained, but they (and we) have no consensus on the definitions of these states, or of love, or of salvation. These are words we take with a pinch of blind faith, and their vague definitions are all that we need to write articles and sell festival cards and promote messiahs. The repetitive use of the word "religion" so far has prompted me to consider using the comfortable "faith" as an alternative, but the reason I don't, is because that's a corruption - of my definition of the mental state called "faith" - At least the faith of the non-blind kind.

As long as our beliefs are based on reaching such hazy destinations, the whole idea of spirituality looks like a waste of time. The long journey to Godliness doesn't seem to be, quite simply … worth it.

And this is why religion, for me, has always opposed God, or at least obstructed the path to God.

Whatever form of God you may have in mind – Task-Master, Father, Destiny-Editor, Shepherd, All-Merciful or "Guy in the Sky" (my personal favourite), we are going to take away some assumptions about Him that have crept into us - by way of Mythology/Glorification/Devotional movies, Misguided priests, Misinterpreted religious texts (the worst), and
plain convenience.

Its true - We often rework our take on God to suit something we're doing, to clarify to ourselves that we're not sinning, or that whatever we're doing is at least partially pardonable (Thats a contradiction in itself, right? ). And this "wisdom of convenience" has been the major factor responsible for the dilution and delusion of religions with time.

Personal experiences aside, let's see what consensus we have on what "God should be like".

1. Omnipotent. All-powerful. In other words, richer than Bill G, more influential than George W, more superpowers than "Superman" Kent, "Spider-man" Parker and the whole Marvel and DC ensemble of "men in spandex" combined - Higher than our Highest Known Superlative in power. *But no, with the Great Power , comes not Great Responsibility. Read faster to see why I feel that way… follow the ‘*’ ;) (Only about God though)

2. Omnipresent. Available at the nearest anything-around-you. God does not have to travel, even when He does, it’s faster than a speeding mind.

..and so on. Omni being the keyword. By definition, God has no superior in anything, He is unsurpassable. And we have a word for such a big number – infinity.


Due to the large number of qualities attributed to God, often overlapping, mostly confused, if instead of enumerating what He should be, we think of what He IS not, we would probably define Him better.

GOD is not human
Hence,
Ø He doesn’t work FOR anyone. God isn’t responsible for us, and it is a bit childish to ‘expect’ things from Him. I am unaware of the global opinion on the clique known as "government servants", but the general attitude I've known is that the government, and its (paid) employees are the people in charge, but not the people responsible - in other words, they are the ones supposed to be doing something, but they are not to fault if it is not done.

Assuming one thing, and just one - that GOD exists, I think we should be sure that He is not a government servant. *God is not responsible for us. He was not ‘appointed’ for our conveniences, nor is His existence defined around our needs. He is not answerable to anyone, because if there was someone higher up than God, THAT someone would be God, and in that case I’m talking about “Him” – Guy in The Sky :).

A little thought will reveal that anyone who cares for us is the same.

God's Love and Grace, like anyone and anything you know, should not be taken for granted.

This is one of the greatest flaws of religious interpretations on Him – Most religions teach that God is looking after us, watching over us from the heavens, that He personally chooses and guides our individual destinies.

I'm sure that's a comforting thought, but I find it hard to imagine a God who busies His days calculating the optimum life-meters for 6billion-plus humans and trillions of plants, animals and insects. I’m not saying it’s impossible, I’m saying it’s hard for me to imagine – It is quite possible that human intellect is inadequate, to even try and fathom, the mind of God. But even if He could, the question turns to ‘Why would He?’ – The answer to that question will someday define “Love” for us.

Ø He cannot be bribed. Atonement is an integral part of the ‘retention program’ of most religions. If you sin, and God doesn’t approve or doesn’t have mercy, a true religion should throw you out. If God has mercy, and He is all forgiveness, for something you regret having done and repent each day, a true religion should embrace you without reservations.

But that’s not how it usually works. There is a ritual or an expense. Donate to the religious treasure chest and you’re a free bird. Get 5 new recruits and you’re pardoned.

God doesn’t care for how many believers approach Him, recommended by which religion – all He cares for is belief and faith, if at all - I'm sure He's free of such petty human expectations as gratitude. He has no use for money - a human invention for human needs and inadequacies, or the number of people affiliated to His name - a human method for measuring power. He has nothing to prove, and no one to show up or win against. Because all that exists is Him.

Ø He has no rivals. Using the yin-yang argument to substantiate the existence of the devil always struck me as pretty lame. Agreed, the devil is a rather colourful character, thanks to Christian mythology. Literature and pop culture are forever indebted to Mr. Satan and his set of eventful (though rather horrific) anecdotes, for spicing up our language with “the devil’s workshop”, “the devil in the details”, “the devil and the deep sea”, et al. But if God is GOD, there is no way a devil can exist, since rivalry is a not-so-aesthetic human emotion. The need for recognition, ego are all unknown to God, for He is infinite, not just BIG. This is why, as I mentioned before, He doesn’t care for a huge flocking of followers or a good donation to the religious institution(s) that advertises His name, albeit distorted.

Ø He is more than human. Saying God is not human, doesn’t (obviously) mean that He is any less than human – which, by definition of God, would be wrong – because if humanity were supposed to be better than Him in any way, humanity would be called God, and vice-versa. I mean, God is like a superset of the good in humankind – He has all our good, and none of our faults.

Which is why we look up to Him, and

Not because He would be angry with us otherwise.

Not because He sacrificed a son for us, because in us, he has seen his sons reborn many billion-fold.

Not because He gave us rules and we find ourselves failing to obey them.

He didn’t make a set of toy-soldiers to play with, nor does He have an advantage in collecting souls in playing treasure hunt versus a hypothetical "devil”.

These are games we play, and we should realise that we respect God for His being above human, not for Him reflecting our deep, dark desires and childish power-games on a superlative, enhanced level.

We are shackled by our minds and mindsets, our abilities and thoughts hampered by a thought-process that has a hard time breaking free of assumptions.

Believe me,I'm goin thru' Hell here.
We are limited by nothing but ourselves.

And though that is often more than enough,

Thus,
&
That is why,
God,

Unlimited.

7. WRITER 2 : Baring

MOOD -----> Halfway To Sleep

POST TYPE : THOUGHT

LISTENING TO - Clint Mansell/Kronos Quartet - Winter Overture

There's something to this whole writer name that gives me goosebumps. Even without the extremely..."involved" thoughts I had about being a writer, in my previous post, I feel a change in mood, mode and general mental (equilibrium?) state when I call myself a writer.
Its that heady brew of sorcerer, conjuror, 'writer of destinies'.
Possibly.

I'm really not doing the evil-genius-mad-scientist-proud-of-his-creation laugh when I hold a pen, or face a keyboard, but there's a surge of something that combines adrenaline, testosterone and a good old chill in my spine when I know I've got something to write. Even if the written words don't give the same emotion to my readers...like I said, its a personal thing. I do it firstly, and foremost-ly, for myself.

Its the magic of written communication, that after the experience of writing is finished and relished...a second experience of reading awaits those who choose to experience it.

Unlike spoken words, where the word is finished just as it starts..like a stillborn child.

The spoken word must rely on our unreliable, incomplete memories to have any hope of living further, of fulfilling some different destiny, other than the one it explicitly performed in its moment of birth.

And as I've said before, my words live, I love them. To consign them to such an uncertain fate, is unthinkable.Many a writer has compared writing to becoming a parent, and in overcoming the human failings that often un-writer us... they have sometimes, gone so far as to describe it as the actual process of childbirth. I am yet to have such a painful time with my writing, though whether that's a good sign or a bad one, only time, reader responses and heartless critics can tell.

I came across one of my favorite prose extracts written by one of my idols in this context - Kamala Suraiya nee Das.
This extract is originally in Malayalam, and though she herself does good English prose, and I'm a lame excuse for a translator, here goes - "As I writer, I bare all for the one who reads. I will undress myself to the state that you call naked, then strip off the flesh, revealing bone and marrow. with that final clothing removed.. I bare my soul to the one who reads."

(To someone who can offer a better translation for this identifiable extract from her writing, I will be grateful. )

It amazes one to think she existed in the 70s, a time when the movies dared not depict

any human intimacy beyond the unforgettably repetitive scene of two harmless-looking flowers making out (like they were Venus flytraps on steroids),

any human sorrow beyond copious tears and screaming mothers,

any reason for goodness or justice save revenge,

and a hundred other stereotypical depictions, most of which, have transformed and survived to this day.

This extract is symbolic of the thing she's skilled at, and the kind of thing she did a lot of - tearing assumptions apart, and attacking these cheesy stereotypes with a vengeance. Her reason for this decidedly good and just act seemed vengeful, but was far from revenge itself. She simply never allowed life to take anything she valued, from her.

Revenge becomes meaningless when you know you can't lose a damn thing.

A few years ago, this champion of personal expression went ahead and converted to Islam, adopting the new name Suraiya.

A vast majority of her fans cried foul at her decision to "seek refuge" , as she herself put it. They felt betrayed by the fact that she who had advocated independence and expression, had gone into a shell herself. I say "they", because till that moment, she had simply been one of the authors in the then-eminently uninteresting array of Malayalam books that my mother chose to read.

And from that moment onward, I saw something in her, that her fans had probably conveniently ignored. She had, all of a sudden, become my apostle of free will. She never tried to tell anyone she was right. or wrong. She simply was. That was the essential quality. She was whatever she chose to be, and she simply refused to let life, or other people, tell her what to do. Without writing a word, she had torn apart one of the biggest assumptions of all.
Like laughing at someone who says, exasperated... "But.. but you're THIS person...How can you be THAT as well?", and replying "How on earth do you presume to know who I am?"
I suspect she understood what misunderstood messiahs often feel like. She also probably understood the picture of a writer as I see it - wielder of power that he himself doesn't realize. And I understood, that this figured in my plan. This -writer- thing. Yeah.

But if you've read that extract, and read what I write, its plainly evident that I'm either lost, nowhere near my idol's path, or purposefully avoiding it.I'm baring nothing more than my insanities, my incapability to write without a word like "incapability", and a whole lot of adverbs, cropping up every now and then, and my self-contradictory self...atleast nothing close to my soul..
whatever that thing is.

I'm not an introspective person by default, though I believe I've done a lot more of it than the average 22 year old - to look within is as difficult as it is boring. If I'm willing to get through the difficult part, it will be very interesting, I've been told.

Again. Plainly evident. Either I don't know much about myself to share, or I'm not trying hard enough to share what little I do know. I can count on the instinctive voyeur in every one of us to be interested in my life, just as it was, in her life. So its not because I think no one wants to hear about my life. Everyone loves the Truman Show. ;)

Look at the name I had given my weblog in the first place. "Here Komes The Sun" is the cheesiest pun I could've pulled off of my own initials, and a cliche to boot...the kind of things I despise. I guess it was atleast individualistic in its being dumb. I'm still cooking up a few words, stuffing a few rabbits down my hat. Maybe someday I'll be David Blaine...or Jesus Christ..in the writing context, please.
But I'm not a strip-my-skeleton-off writer.Not yet. And that's only ONE of the many paths I might take to being a -writer-. Maybe that's why I blog- to get some company and input for the trip, and possibly clues to how my road map should look.

Lethargy and a sudden loss for words...
The same feeling that made me make the mundane pun "Here Komes The Sun", prompts me to end this post here. Its 5 AM, and I feel some semblance of sleep hitting me . Don't get me wrong, I'm unemployed, and I can very well sleep my arse off the whole day. I'm not insomniac...just nocturnal. And slightly nuts. Goodnight all.