Meaning Of Actual Experience

I have been deliberately away from these posts and the Internet for more than a week, thanks to my move to the new house as well as heavy dining and wining experiences. I never ate so much outside or tried so many differenty cuisines. On the whole it was a nice experience.

Talking about experiences, I have been thinking of a decent gift for my parents on their upcoming anniversary and someone suggested a cruise or vacation. Trying to make possible an experience rather than giving a trinket/utility sort of thing always scored high on my list. I was talking to another pal of mine yesterday night and he observed that I usually call him after an email or a chat.( implying an "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" thingie). We both know that we have fun we spend some time together in an Irani Cafe rather than talk over the phone. It seems weird to me to call up even the best friends at times because somehow the telephone as a medium doesnt serve the definition of "quality time" with my folks. The same could be said of Internet. I hate chatting/IMing because it undercuts a real conversation and fosters bad grammar(I am saying it didnt strike me as such though I have seen people swear by it for its features etc.,) . Besides, If people really had something to say they would probably compose it in an email (I still miss those real letter writing days yearning for the post man to call out my name at mid-noon.Its been ages since I have known that and I fear I cannot recognise my own handwriting!Note to Self: Take a Calligraphy Class).You may call me a luddite for saying this but I dont want to go on a philippic here about virtual experiences. What concerns me here is the meaning of an actual experience as opposed to the abstraction of it. I cannot say better than Robin Williams from GoodWill Hunting :

Robin Williams as Sean : Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Matt Damon as Will: No.
Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Will: Nope.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man...

It strikes me that actual experience somehow distorts our hypothetical Image, be it for good or bad. There is probably a good reason for me perusing photographs besides my friends rather than send them a digitally scanned picture, catch my newspaper in print rather than read it online, page through a real book instead of leafing it online. At the same time I like paying bills, booking tickets and do my banking online.( Of course reading other people's thoughts sprayed out on blogs is something else that could be on the list too.)

My frontal cortex throws me into a dizzy when I think of what might be the meaning of actual experience as opposed to an online/virtual experience .

The Pursuit of Happiness

As of today, my dear friend Prashant has completed 28 years in the pursuit of happiness. Great! Many Many Phenomenal Returns of the Day, Nair Bhai. It also so happens that he is one of the few people who read every word posted here. (The other notable one is 7~ ) . Coincidentally, its been approximately an year since I started posting these ravings of mine.

I had this theory that once people like me were given the complete freedom to say anything , they usually end up having nothingto say. If suppressed, we seem to have everything under the sun to talk about. I am glad that I am still around and so far quite moderately succesful at debunking that theory.

The initial basis to vent stuff on these pages was to see if I could find a pattern in these words that could tell me something about myself. I still have go through that rigmarole (not that I expect anything). After 2 months into scribbling this stuff, a friend politely reminded me that as time progresses by, a blogger becomes acutely aware of their readers' preference and the writings tend to be a bit colored by that. (His question was, how then could I expect to find something about myself? Of course we had a conversation that digressed into Kalman filters, high pass and low pass filters and the application of such filters to blogs..)

Anyways its been a pleasant experience to be a thread in this online fabric. Thanks to this exerscise, I found a good correspondent with whom I had exchanged more than 300 emails of an average message size with 2.5 Kb. Thats something that I didnt expect at the outset of launching this journey. Thanks for the faith :) I am surprised that actually something virtual like Internet can actually foster real bond in the 'real' world.

It is said that Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer was written without editing a single word and it was published based on his first draft. In a spirit much akin to that I have never edited a single post much less read it to myself for the flow.(Thus resulting in bad haikus and other random posts). The result of the same at the corporate level brough me much grief (One person said "Have you ever head of a Spell Checker?" and proceeded to show me a button in the UI that would do it for me). So you can count that as a resolution for my next posts. (The sad side effect was that my resume had typos and luckily got the job despite it)

Then they say, Picture is worth a thousand words. I havent yet used a single picture so far.While it is not ruled out using them, definitely I will watch out for a good picture to fit in organically with the rest of the content.

I would like to recommend some not so random posts. There's one about Class 4 and one about 30th Street Philly Station (this one had most of my folks dropping in to comment)

A note of thanks to Megha, Anirudh, Geetanjali, Hirak, Sumedha, Bonnie,Venu,Lavanya and other anon commenters for forming this small online community and taking some time off to engage some of their time to read the stuff I had to post.

Goodnight you princes of Maine, you Kings of New England.

ps : I had to change the license plates for my car today which previously had the same title as this blog. The timing couldnt be more appropriate.

Beauty & Utility

Lets say we were to listen to a discourse on grammar versus a recitation of poetry, which one would be a preferable? The choice is subjective because different folks have different fascinations. Poetry, not unlike Grammar, has its own set of rules,conventions,etc but it also has an essential ingredient of 'taste'. (Care for a digression: Visit "A Taste for Makers")

Basically within the established rules, a poem transitions according to a poet's desire. It is governed by curiousity and wonder,whereas that of the language's grammar is governed by use and convenience. ( Vikram Seth's 'Golden Gate' is an excellent example of this)

So the choice is either Beauty or Utility and rarely both(Let me think of something thats beautiful yet useful)..

Cliche

She Swims in my arteries with the memory of a goldfish,
A Sudden sense of Liberty,
A Gusto of Abandonment,
A Head Rush,
Pitching the Car into Overdrive,
Close my eyes wading through the traffic,
A vague sense of picking up the scent,
Probably a Red Herring,
No Cop to Arrest me,
No Anthem to Inspire me,
Another moment to be saved.

The Luncheon Today

I went to lunch with the most eccentric of my co-workers today. Usually we ask other colleagues before we head out for a restaurant. Given the excellent weather in the Bay Area many folks join us for a stroll or drive while chatting amongst ourselves.

Today he came over my desk and asked me if I am hungry. I said Yes. So we decided to head out.True to his European roots, he warned me ahead saying he is not the person to have the usual $6 lunch for hamburger/sandwich but proper fine dining that might cost me more.

We chose a place and we drove in his Inifiniti. For the first time, other than work details, he asked me where I was from, how long I was around in this country, etc. We came to the restaurant and he held the door for a lady who was coming in the direction. Watching him hold the door, she ran. Immediately, he was asking the lady to take her time and told me

"I dont understand why women run when I hold the door. Is it the fear that I will leave it/close it in the middle. I have opened it and will hold it till she gets in". (This is one of his signature ways of discussing the world around him).

He ordered red wine ( Cabarnet Sauvignon to be precise) and asked me if I would like some beer. Phew! Its been ages since I have seen anyone have wine at lunch.Said it was good for his heart and explained me the difference between various grapes and wineries.The guy knew his food stuff.

Then he explained me that I didnt suck or else he would have voted me off the firm in the first week itself. Glad to know atleast I am worth something in his eyes :)

When we were in the middle of our lunch, I told him that gastronomically speaking, I come from a far superior culture than I have been dished out in this country. Explained a few things. Then we digressed. As was his wont to precision in such matters, he asked me the following question when I told him how I cannot speak my neighboring states' language nor understand their script.

"Tell me this because your country's diversity in language amazes me. Who took the pain of defining these languages, grammars, syntaxes and semantics?"

Me: "I dont know" (Thinking hard to assign a person or a group of people for cleverly coming up with the language Manipuri or Bhojpuri)

"How did they evolve so differently being the part of a same country? ".
I told him that there was no such country as a whole and ethnicnally there is no race called as "Indian")

He discussed the hardships of being a Eastern European Jew, approved the organizational capabilities of Nazis whilst feeling sad for his own folk, recreated what it was like to be in 16th century spain before all of them were expelled from the country.I threw in my shallow comments here and there but there arrived a final kodak moment when he was watching something in the air (an imaginary homeland I guess) saying

"This country is the last hope of the promised land. Nothing has happened since the last 100 odd years since we have settled here. Yet."

Curious about the "yet" part, I quizzed him if he was being cynical given their history or being paranoid given the circumstances. He said neither. He just wore his sunglasses and asked politely

"Shall We?"

Then we wanted to get some decent coffee.( or "agreeable" as he called it). He cursed Starbucks and showed the his vote for the best in the Silicon Valley area called "Peet's Coffee". I ordered the usual and was about to get it in the usual paper cup when he interrupted me with the hint that I am insulting both myself and the coffee if I drink from it. He got me a ceramic cup and told me this was the proper way to enjoy coffee.

Then we basked in the sun for a while trying to think where else in the world would you get paid for doing so, all the while you are recharging yourself. We came back to pick up the loose ends of work we left.

The day is over and I still somehow felt some volumes of words being spoken in his silent stare into the thin air..Ahhh.

The Emperor Of the United States

If you around in San Fransisco, it is highly improbable to have the Masonic or Woodlawn Cemetries on your touring list. I suggest you visit the Woodlawn for a nice surprise and a good story. The epitaph reads :

--------------------------
NORTON I
Emperor Of The United States
and
Protector of Mexico
Joshua A. Norton
1819-1880
-----------------------------

That surprised me.Our history books have taught us about the 40 odd president of the US, but never an emperor.Please visit this link or this one to grab the complete story behind this real and eccentric person.

As you could see, he was self proclaimed emperor of the country who claimed it in a piece of writing to the local paper. The editor had a sense of humor in publishing it and the people of San Fransisco good enough to entertain this illusion as well as enjoy it.Mark Twain wrote an obituary for one of his stray dogs (That in itself is a very high accord).His "Bulletin" contained some prophetic stuff. For example he wanted to raise funds to bridge the San Fran Bay area connecting Oakland, Marin County and the city itself. Of course he also advised Lincoln to marry Queen Victoria and personally believed that his dispatches terminated the Franco-Prussian war among other things.

At his funeral, many were there to write of him and among those was Robert Louis Stevenson,whose words were also a tribute to the Emperor's city :

"In what other city would a harmless madman who supposed himself emperor of the two Americas have been so fostered and encouraged? Where else would even the people of the streets have respected the poor soul's illusion? Where else would bankers and merchants have received his visits, cashed his cheques, and submitted to his small assessments? Where else would he have been suffered to attend and address the exhibition days of schools and colleges? where else, in God's green earth, have taken his pick of restaurants, ransacked the bill of fare, and departed scathless? They tell me he was even an exacting patron, threatening to withdraw his custom when dissatisfied; and I can believe it, for his face wore an expression distinctly gastronomical..."

This is just one facet of this great city.

The 7 Sisters

Pop Quiz : Name ALL the seven states of North Eastern India that border China, Tibet, Bhutan, Bangladesh, and Burma.(.Oops Sorry.The last one should have said Myanmar) .

To set the context I just finished watching Charlie Tango. The protoganist's (Bobby Deol) first assignment was in Manipur and he is supposed to repel the Bodos (BTW they call themselves in a National Democratic Front of Bodoland). The film didnt cover Assam's ULFA, Tripura Tiger Force,or some other organization in Nagaland because the movie had to cover a lot of ground in terms of Naxalites, Maoists,Kargil, etc., It was much like a cinematic subset of Naipaul's India: A Million Mutinies Now

There was another movie in 1998 that was concerns this region known as Seven Sisters of India. (Maniratnam's Dil Se). My heart cries out when I think of the folks living here. In my opinion, they seem to be living in a limbo.First off, they dont look like like most other regions, their geographical extremities are unrelatable to the mainland folks, the interconnecting faith of this region is a minority, they are not a vote bank and finally none of their languages has any kind of commendable influence.(I suspect this is because of their Non-Sanskrit roots)

Given these factors, majority of the country never made them feel to be a part of India.(Gladly, I am told that this situation is changing). It almost seems like India stops at Siliguri and the rest like a No Man's Land.Some of the folks who had exchange students at their colleges (IITs, RECs and Central Universities) might know a li'l better about their habits (like they prefer meat in their Samosas than Vegetables).The point is that there is no use crying about insurgency in these regions, when the administration and people at large never made them feel like a part of the nation.Yes.These factions like ULFA, ATTF, NDFB, etc are just feeding on the dream of a independent homeland of the residents. Integrate them with the homeland and then let BSF do their job. I am sure this would be a much happier and productive solution.

ps: The Seven Sister States are Assam,Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, Manipur, Mizoram, Nagaland, and Tripura.

StoryTellers

A few years back if you find someone in the office reading newspaper during work hours, well, you know what to think and there have been cases where people got fired for that. Currently, I know of folks who cannot spend a day at work without reading news at Samachar, Times, and other sites. In fact the only websites other than email,search engines that sustain majority of IT workers' interest are News sites. At social gatherings of Indian expatriates, the majority of conversations relate to the content dished out of these news sites or papers. I am the wrong guy to talk to about these because I have completely given up hope on getting myself informed through this medium. I see this sense of listening to stories, both real and fictional, as a constant preoccupation of the humankind.

The only news show I watch is The John Stewart Show which is actually a mock news show. There is no point watching the mainstream shows being aired on CNN, NBC, etc.Of course then "blogs" happened which were a form of 'journalism' ( Please mind the small case 'j'). The commong thing about John Stewart and Blogs was that they didnt care about spin,manipulation or doctoring the facts. Both disseminated honest opinions with a clear conviction on a given issue. As an acquaintance of mine once said, it seems like I am rooted in the past by reading only the summaries of events whereas he likes to live in the present keeping tabs on realtime news.(The claim is controvertible but there is no point).

News.Journalism. How would I explain a kid today as to the purpose they are supposed to serve( I attempted an explanation in vain). I used to get the popular explanation that News stood for "North,East,West and South" implying awareness of the world around us. Now how many of us do exactly care about that? If you are in the US, you know that most of the news people like to read is local news with a lip service to global issues.In fact 'world" only meant the news from coast to coast with occasional tidbits from Hawaii and Alaska. The majority gets terribly interested once US goes to war against a particular country.Of course, as always there are people who keep abreast of this stuff because they are particualrly interested in it or because they work for a think-tank kind of organization and hence neccesity.

Not that India does better in that. I usually buy `India Today` these days to get some laughs. The news on current affairs being circulated in India assume too much about the status of India.
Its assumes that India is a global power, a peace loving and some peculiar things which make sense only when talking to a person in India. The only I remember watching this weekly news show called "The World This Week" by Prannoy Roy and he somehow managed to pool some of the best journalistic talent around the country.

If you will indulge me, I would like to take a trip down my memory lane about some journals I have grown up with. The first ever paper I remember reading is "The Hindu" from 1984-87. Usually started from the last page on sports (most interesting) to the middle pages(least interesting) and the front page(indifferent, but read mostly out of curiosity). The editor N.Ram definitely deserves some credit for the integrity maintained . The sunday edition had a kids special titled "Young World".I relished every page of it.Withour much further ado, I finally gave up reading the paper for 2 specific reasons: The paper's cloaked support of LTTE actions ( atleast in the articles I read ) and the silly rationale for Viswanathan Anad losing games.(Instead of admitting Kasparov was so good that he actually surprised Anad with Dragon opening, the paper detailed Anand's itinenary, his lack of sleep and stuff).

I did try reading news after that but never got hooked on them. After that I grew up with a magazine called "Junior Quest" edited by Aditi De published by the same company that published Chandamama. (which deserves a completely separate post for itself). JQ (as it was called) provided some imaginative contests (e.g. contest to draw a creature that does not exist in the world), trivia quizzes, penpals, and other teen related stuff. Of course there was this magazine flaoting around called "Wisdom" published out of madras by some retired high court judges which took a more serious stance on issues.(but used to have really nice quotes on the bottom of each page)

On the same plane was "Amar Chitra Katha" series that sought to depict the Indian classics by the medium of comics. This made serious material like Jataka Tales accessible to a 13 year old like me.These comics had the same mission as Chandamama in trying to do a transfer of cultural artifacts.From the same publishing house came the fortnightly called Tinkle which was also the brainchild of Uncle Pai. (Ego Booster: I had enjoyed being paid Rs.20 per story for 2 of my published stories (or jokes if you prefer) albeit takes something like 6 months from the time you sent it till it gets published ).

Then as I neared my matriculation, I had brushed through mags like "Competition Success Review" (CSR now sounds weird but it was accepted as a good mag to prepare for Civils) and "FrontLine".Then, I was more interested in spending that time reading tomes like "Atlas Shrugged" instead of current events.

Then I moved back to Hyderabad, only to find that "Deccan Chronicle" which was not exactly a newspaper but more of a pamphlet.I started reading the newspapers at libraries which gave me a more balanced view of the same thing. Thats when I came across "The Telegraph" published out of Calcutta. It had a typical bengali inclination of intellectual high takes on social issue but what got me was their Science supplement every Tuesday. I guess I still have them lying around in my attic stuff.

"Indian Express" was atleast consistent though it was nowhere near a journal of sorts that one would get hooked to. "The Times Of India" with its glorious heritage degraded into what this recently made movie called "Page 3" potrayed. Every newspaper has a godfather and a paid propagandist view. Its only to choose for us who is the least biased.

This turned out to be "The Economic Times" that was modeled on "The Financial Times" of London.It carried the same Salmon Pink color that was reserved for financial dailies. The reason this was less biased had to do with other reasons.Swaminathan Aiyar did a good job. (In the interest of full disclosure, my first job was door to door selling this newspaper when it was first launched in Hyderabad).

Finally I ended up liking "The Economist" for its healthy overall outlook of global affairs.Till this day that will be the only journal I care to buy at Airports for inflight infotainment.The problem with The Economist is that it is very good at setting the context for each article which might get bored when reading a subject on which you have strong background. I guess thats why so many niche magazines dedicated to each subject cropped up.

Anyways I forgot the point I started out to make and wouldnt bother.After all its a Friday Night!

ReUnion

After a hiatus of about a month, I am finally reunited with my car, my beloved Golf.It feels like home territory again. (Digression: I can relate now to Alexander's pitiful last 3 years of his life without his beloved Bucephalus). I look forward to using the Sunroof/Moonroof more often in these parts of the country and as usual overtake fellas when there's a curve ahead..

Life happens between the empty and full tanks of this Car.

Another Mouthful of Sky

Someone once told me that a sureshot way of knowing that your kids have grown up is ' when they stop asking you where they come from and stop telling you where they go to'. Now it is the former that usually places parents in a tight spot and give us some wonderfully creative answers.

Zooming back into history, the same question was asked by a seer to a monk. Now this gets philosophical because its no kid asking his parent but a peer asking an established guru of his times as to how in the world are humans conceived out of the some basic five elements.(The funda being of "dust to dust and ashes to ashes" viewed in converse.). The guru answers back as follows

Heaven is fire
Sun, its fuel
Rays, its smoke
Day, its flame
Moon,its embers
Stars, its sparks
Into this fire God offers the oblation of faith
Out of this the, divine king Soma (the full moon) arises

Rain-god is indeed fire
Wind,fuel
Cloud, its smoke
Lightning, its flame
Thunderbolt, its embers
Thunder, its sparks
Into this fire the God offers the oblation of Soma
Out of this oblation, Rain Arises

Earth its fire
Year, its fuel
Sky, its smoke
Night, its flame
Four Directions, its embers
Inter-Directions its sparks
Into this fire the God offers the oblation of Rain
Out of this oblation arises Food

Man, indeed is the fire
Speech, his fuel
Breath, his smoke
Tongue, his flame
Eyes, his embers
Ears, his sparks
Into this fire the God offers the oblation of Food
Out of this oblation the Seed is created

Woman is the fire
Male Organ is the fuel
Incitation is the smoke
Groin is the flame
Copulation is the Ember
Orgasm is the Spark
Into this fire the God offers the oblation of Seed
Out of this oblation arises fetus

These five oblations of elements give rise to a human being.

For the curious the guru was Sankara of Kaladi and this was a recitation from one of the last 8 chapters of "Chaandogya Brahmana".The word "Another" because I have used the original title.