Works Of Contemplation

Having born into a TamBrahm family, it was a default that I had to be surrounded by these three elements. Apart from the constant exhortation to ‘succeed’ in our grades at school, due to the alignment that we are part of (I do not want to use the word caste), our conversations hinged and revolved on majorly these three topics. Granted, there were exceptions according to each household and each parental mindset, but either all, or one, at the least, of these, were definitely a part of every TamBrahm household. Now, why am I ranting about these elements, in general or in separate? What spurred me to thrash out this piece on a non-eventful day? Why should I be putting these words to a screen for the world to read? How am I doing this (brace yourself for free advice on writing!)? When did the material for this piece (only intangible, unfortunately. I revel in them) originate? I will answer these questions, and you , the reader, be the judge of whether to skim, scan, or sprint from this pie...

I enjoyed reading Saumya Balasubramanian's article in the Open page dated 16-JUNE-2019 (Wodehouse, undistilled). I truly believe this world needs to be made aware and talked of PGW's works more than it currently is now. I am all of 25-years old and I was initiated into the world of Wodehouse by my family who were and still are crazy fans of the author's oeuvre. When everyone around me was fervently and reverently talking of Jeeves, I would be gnawed by a feeling of being left out. Of knowing zilch about this fictional character who apparently had given and still gives a glut of laughs when his exploits were explored in family conversations. To add more salt to this wound, my aunt would relate anecdotes wherein she used to fight with her cousins and uncles and father of how and where Jeeves had been right and wrong.  I would feel frustrated at not being a member of this league and I resented that. One fine rummy day, I took a leap of faith from my staple reads of Hardy B...

Let's embark on a clay-moulding competition! A tent fit to accommodate a grounded, forward-facing human's perspective of horizontally lined dozen elephants has been erected in the center of a sprawling meadow. 6 contestants have each been provided with a clay ball of equal size. Their goal is to mould the given ball into the best-possible structure. There are no time-limits, effectively rendering evaluations and rewards to be posthumous. The contestants will also be required to elaborate the function of the mould submitted. Once submissions are done, to determine the winner, we would need a judge. An impartial and just one at that. The judge, Celia, is from a part of town that is completely far away geographically and culturally from the entirety of the contestants'. Now, she has an extremely difficult job to do though she had never volunteered. She has to judge each mould and evaluate it for success based on present appearance and dissecting its implied function based o...

Does altruism truly exist in us humans? Whatever one does channeling one's altruism may bring goodness into the world, but the underlying reason for why they do what they do has apparently been commonly blown up as altruism, either by the society or in talks with the self. How can it be altruism when the very action that you do advances a feeling of goodness within you? Are you not performing the act for the sake of selfishly advancing your actionable answer to the existential crisis? The society labels as you being a person that abides by the couplet இன்னா செய்தாரை ஒறுத்தல் அவர் நாண நன்னயம் செய்து விடல் .  (Do good unto all, immaterial of being done bad unto you) Society can see only a finite version of you. It sees the words you utter and coupled with your actions, it qualifies you to be of a certain pedigree. A certain type of character that fits in to their definitions. And ages of stagnation and subjugation have rendered their definitions obsolete and outdated to acco...

There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose all our ventures.  These lines were spoken by Shakespeare through the guise of Brutus in 'Julius Caesar'. Had my high-school English text not contained lessons on Shakespeare's plays, my thoughts would never have been influenced or widened to the level it currently has been now. The above quote has been one of many that I have tried to understand and also could relate myself to, during my trysts with life's curves. Being an open-minded person comes with its own travails. Acquaintances dismiss you off with a wave of the hand or a shrug of the face whenever you contradict society's opinion. Friends do not quite grasp your flight of thoughts and utter all-too-familiar refrains of exasperation. To ride all this a...

Admittedly, the title reeks of sophistication and mumbo-jumbo. Yet, read me out, persist and put in an effort to understand the lines. As individuals, I reckon all of us are obsessed with the notion of quantifying. We set ourselves standards and goals. Unfortunately, with an intent and a foresight that such-and-such goal should be established as 'achieved' or 'failed' to the world at large, we begin to set yardsticks and measurable results. Few of the common goals that I have heard people set for self include 'losing 5 kg in 60 days', 'securing a 90% score in the upcoming exams', 'walking 30 minutes a day', 'burning X calories per day' and so on. I concur with the argument that certain goals need to be quantified as a measure of evaluation. However, I counter-argue that metrics need not be and should not be set for goals that are put in place with an intent to improve an individual's quality of life. The word 'quality of life...

Glittering are the stars above my head Shimmering they are, to my eye She looks down, at faces wry And hopes Not of a happy emotional flood But of a life deeply explored Not of a rich material load But of removing each's illusionary shroud. And to them I say, Be true, to self and all in fray.

Do we think? Do we truly think? Response 1: Yes we do. We think and decide the food to be consumed daily, we think and plan ahead to reach our workplace or educational institution on time. We do think. A lot. Response 2:  Be more specific please. The universe is a melting-pot of disciplines. Where specifically is the area that you want me to base my answer to that question on? Response 3: What I think and profess to the world outside will be far different and occasionally be unreasonable to you. For this reason, I shall not answer the question. Response 4: We stress our brains quite intensely at the workplace or at the educational institution. Please do not plead with me to think anymore than I already do. Response 5: The age for thinking has passed me. Let me spend my days relaxing and taking rest after having run a metaphorical marathon my whole life. These are the typical comments that I could distill from my mind, imagining a situation where individuals of varying ages...

Okay, so here goes a post after a long time. For my readers, assuming safely that there are quite a few residing in the poshest corners of the globe, the wait would have seemed interminable.   And that was just that. An illusion. The wait shall now be terminated. TL: DR à Bring in Automation at the workplace. Keep it out of every youngster’s reach till then. I have been attending an Automation course the past week. Before venturing into that, let me provide a background to my story. After entering the workplace and post months of training, 3 to be precise, I regained my spark of interest in programming, which hopefully will now be a raging fire. This caused a flurry of frantic browsing activity. Previously, I have never gone past 2 pages of Google’s results, and here I was, wading past 5 of all the crawling it threw up. I searched for the language that I should start feeding my fire of programming with. I searched for the limitations that every language had, I searche...

Stephen Curry. To the uninitiated, the name means and evokes nothing. To the casual observer, a cynical comment at the preposterous package. To the relatively interested, a wave-like analysis of the success achieved. To the crazed Warriors fan, a deep dive into the musings on the elegance and grace with which Mozart played the instrument, Federer caressed the tennis ball, Dravid cajoled the cricket ball, and Curry toyed with the basketball. Have you ever paused and observed the eyes of a child when given a toy to play with? All that can be only imagined by us, of playing with that toy, are put into action by that child. Even the unimaginable at times. Such is the relationship between Curry, the child, and basketball, the toy. A little on him: Curry is a player in the NBA team of Golden States Warriors. He is the reigning two-time Most Valuable Player (MVP) in the NBA. The player who draws in the crowds at regular-season games and elicits sounds of approval and appraisal. Hi...

Sonnets do not seem so dull suddenly .  Most of us hate hot and sultry summer days, don't we? Well then. We should be intrigued to witness a minority group that is interested in them. To such a group belongs Shakespeare. Yes. The very same person who penned pearls of wisdom on the landscape of love, the agony of pain and the anti-ephemeral nature of reproduction. Femininity is mostly associated with beauty. William ventures to an extent where he undermines the magnificence of the Sun illuminating Earth, and elevates the beauty of his love. However delve further into the sonnet and you will find a parallel story emerging. A story of the Sun's glory! Weaving both extremes into a single sonnet, he implores the reader to make a choice. Persons who are and have been in love would relate the sonnet to a woman's beauty while the rest would relate it to the Sun. Note the lines 'Rough winds...short a date'. Winds of high velocity may obscure the brightness ...

I am pretty frustrated with all the Giroud-bashing being done in the media, over how he is not the striker we can win titles with, over how he doesn’t score goals quite efficiently and regularly, over how he isn't quite lethal in the decisive moments and a lot more! For all the haters, the critics, and the neutral who do not know what to think, here are my reasons: The provider/enabler: It is a clichéd statement that forwards are signed to score goals for the team. I wonder if this is true in present day football. Total Football as made famous by Cruyff, had every player playing in every position to the best of his ability. If that is so, why could a forward not be quite content with assisting goals rather than wishing to feature on the score-sheet always? Giroud isn't the leader in assists, but he is very much capable of playing the crucial pass with a little of trickery thrown in to win the ball, and move it forward for the others to latch on to. Quick release...

Will the cricket pitch laid out for the 2nd test between South Africa and England be investigated by the ICC? That at Nagpur was looked into with the reason being cited as variable turn, variable pace and variable bounce on the first day. Plausible enough to warrant an investigation. The pitch assisted spinners right from ball one, while that at Newlands assisted pacers and continues that assistance till day five closes. Why isn’t assistance to pacers considered a criteria for launching investigation into pitches? To clear the cobwebs, the following lines illustrate verbatim the rules for declaring a pitch ‘poor’ and in need of investigation:  The pitch offers excessive seam movement at any stage of the match  The pitch displays excessive unevenness of bounce for any bowler at any stage of the match  The pitch offers excessive assistance to spin bowlers, especially early in the match  The pitch displays little or no seam movement or turn at any stage in the mat...

I have been using this tool called ‘Pocket’ for quite some time now, and I thought ‘Wow! Why not I let the world know this piece of art that can enable its inhabitants to set aside time for their loved ones instead of frittering it away reading an article that they always could read for later and still maintain the same interest in it?'    Pocket is exactly what the name suggests, a reservoir that you dig into when you are bored or when you need to retrieve something that piqued your interest in the morning but had to shun it then because of other troublesome issues. You can read your articles offline and their simple, slick interface would make you want to go back frequently. Their brilliant use of colours, simplistic yet imaginative, works hugely in their favour. Their recent update of adding a ‘Recommendations’ section wherein you are presented with articles hand-picked to suit your assessed tastes, is an ambitious one and could work in their favour. It can also w...

Blots may not necessarily mean impediments. They are what offer succour to a near-perfect canvas. A dash of colour to a dull, uniform painting. A deviation from the mundane. A relief from the eye-sore that uniformity is. Take time off your busy rest-taking moments and look through the window. You will know what I intend to convey. You may or may not understand the feeling but you will know. The sky is an ocean, a vast expanse of blue hue that never ceases. If not for the clouds that blot, how are we to lead a healthy life? There would be no rain for the farmers. No seed will rear its head from underground. No harvest takes place throughout the year. And ultimately the vortex of hunger draws in the rural and the urban class, the literate and the illiterate, the rich and the poor, the men and the women. It does not distinguish and does not side with any particular ilk. Such is the power of a blot. We have always thought of them as our lethargy or carelessness that intru...

It seems the world runs on currency notes. Or wait, does it? In every walk of life, we need to shell out that piece of paper to obtain something. In such a driven world, help rendered without any aside intentions comes as a whiff of pleasant breeze to the face. We all love such a breeze, don't we!  I experienced this a good two months back. I had to walk a long distance carrying four bags on my person and along came a stranger on his bike. I had not seen that particular stranger ever, and that being so because I am aware of many strangers that I observe daily. He offered me a ride of around two kilometres, a task that would have taken me a good one hour approximately! This is one of the many reasons why I believe the population of this world isn't so bad, after all. We blame others, those that emotionally hurt us, those that physically violated us, those that berated us.If anybody is to blame, it is ourselves. We base everything on past experiences and end up closing...

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie. And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. You might be wondering why I suddenly came up with this stanza. This quartet is from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare has a queer style of hiding meanings in plain sight. In the above quartet, the interested yet somewhat casual reader would have noticed the meaning which he wished everyone to notice. Not many would notice that this stanza carries more than one meaning. I will try my best to elucidate both here. Let us assume that I had one of my 'Aha' moments (thanks to Kalid Azad), which spurred me to write this piece. Old desire might refer to the enmity or 'ancient' grudge that may be on the verge of dissolving, due to Romeo's intoxication with a girl from the opposing camp. Romeo wishes to follow up on this and ensure that such a situation never a...

Wow! It has been a long time since I blogged. A glance at the last post shows that two months has whizzed past and that I don't have a single post during that period. I hope to make amends for the involuntary hibernation by weekly posting from now. And so here goes the first of them. Trust. Every one of us trusts some individual in our passage towards higher echelons of life, don't we? But as we indulge in conversations with our peers, we find that some render trust generously while the rest waver under veiled gardens. Why is there a disparity when all of us are cut from the same fabric? The solution to this query lies under the oft-quoted answer "Our past experiences make us trust less!" So true, right? We meet a stranger on the road sharing our same taste and as the conversation proceeds (or not, depending on what our moms taught us!), we connect with them at a level that, in truth, cannot be quantified. Strangers on roads are not exactly potential candidat...

We are past the age where technological innovations were meant to aid human living conditions. Present era innovations are focussed towards completely eliminating the human aspect. What better example can be shown than that of mobile phones? Considering a typical day in the life of a decently earning family man, he wakes up at around 7 in the morning to complete his prayers, takes a bath, has his breakfast and leaves for work at 9. This is his morning schedule. Mobile phone integrates seamlessly with this schedule without him being aware of it. He may have his prayers on his mobile phone, may have his bath interrupted by a call, or may have any other issues that could be easily be ignored at that moment. Instead, he chooses to 'interact' with his phone. What he loses is the all-important aspect of a conversation with his wife and children. Those morning little chit-chats that his wards may so badly need to get through the emotional drain of being in school, and the talk t...

We talked unknownst to each other, that, All hell would break loose. What could possibly come of two talking in harmony? Us, filmy for a film even, Shattered beyond cry or wail. Crying for spilt milk is adagedly a vestige The value of milk spilt resurfaces only then, And crying for lost value, Is it a vestigial adage too? After all, none can rue when they have what they crave, Two people desperate for each other, One voluntarily cocooning, the other involuntarily so, Nothing of what we had felt fake, Though people make it out to be. Trust, on which everything should be based so, Even that ensured, Neither of us get why each of us is separate. All four desperately wanting the other, Too egoistic to spell it out And yet still confined, And shackled to persons they bear less of the love to, Or is that false?