A poem for dearest Malala

 Books are gift from dream land

When the soul dance

it doesn’t ask a thing.  

Sky is the roof

world our home.

In the periphery of eternal,

learning dwells in little steps of hope.

Words weave their magic

into pages of questions

that we quarry for answer.

And so we live infallible

in the shadow of faith

so we live forever…    

Blogs are published works

…someone the other day said “…but you haven’t published?”  I beg to differ. Publishers don’t decide who should be published and how to sell.  They no longer set the bench mark nor are they arbitrators on quality and content. I may be ignored. I may be unacknowledged. But I exist and exist in all my ferocity. Thanks to this medium, this space. I for a moment am also thinking of millions of brilliant lives passed by over the years, over the centuries …being denied a space. That is the civilizational loss I was talking about. It’s a collective loss that haunts this society.
 
We live in exciting times, and this is beginning of new history. These are times of common people; the access through social media has made it a tremendous world. I am so happy to be here when the history is unfolding into a world that is egalitarian, atleast in the assimilation/dispersal of views. Idea of self worth is amazing motivation. Though one must add that in India entrenched groups run the show (its quite difficult to trespass the family&friends&their Charter Accountant coterie!!)…but then the wonder is that social media is boundary less. Arab spring was initiated by people on the street using social media. It is happening all around us in increasing regularity. Malala too is a blogger….

So when we blog, we are putting our views on public platform and that is publishing. All the blogs are published work. The onus is on people who want to get connected and create a better world…

 

Institution builder is no more …

Yash Chopra was a colossal figure who significantly influenced the growth and direction of Indian film industry

Get well soon Malala dear…

…the world waits for you

Where acquiring knowledge was way of life

Nalanda’s literal translation would be “give lotus”, which loosely means “offer goodness”. About 1500 years back this was the place that became center of knowledge. It offered space for about 10,000 students and 2,000 teachers, and spread across many kms. I have come here in 1999, and this time too I could feel what this place could have been many centuries ago. Meticulously constructed dormitories with living space, bed, rack for study material, common ground water well and toilet, all these for set of 30 students each that consisted a unit, ventilation, kitchen so on. The library (know as treasure of truth) held huge collection of study material. Those were exciting times, of fervent discussions, sharing and knowing. Exalted thoughts and ideas that had started to grow independent of brahminical stranglehold and obnoxious structure. When you walk through these dormitories you could still feel so much care and compassion that went into building this great center of ancient knowledge. If you put this in context of world history, as barbarians roamed around the world, then we realize the significance of Nalanda.  

Even though structures may be destroyed and forgotten but collective conscience survives, that is what you see in subtleties and sensibilities that exist in certain societies. I see that it in zen, in haikus, in art (mandala or flower art of Thais are only few examples of exalted subtlety)…in peaceful people, in people who pursue knowledge to share, in contemplation and meditation, in worldviews that reflects universality of human spirit. That it couldn’t much percolate into Indian society is another instance of mediocre elites (Brahminical puss that gangrened Indian society), of course one does see shades of Buddhism in pan Indian  thought stream (also kerala murals and temples). Collective conscience of destruction too survives, it does in violent people and their ugly worldview. If Taliban is surviving conscience of marauding muslim invaders then sucking colonizers do trace its conscience through marauding market. The context changes but collective conscience does survive. Attack on 14-year-old Malala Yousafzai in Pakistan is another instance on attack on goodness, on society that seeks knowledge, therefore understanding, therefore compassion. When the marauders burned the library of Nalanda it ember for many months, what a colossal loss to humanity.  

Britain gets some lesson on propriety 

Britain’s arrogance at one point was such that they gave space to scum of earth in the name of freedom of expression and democracy. That these scoundrels caused much misery to people around the world was none of their concern. They even provided interviews of people who had nothing but vicious things to say (even BBC, which in recent times has become quite mediocre). What goes does come back, and sure does. Abu Hamza episode gave them a good lesson. Small grace for us people across the world. 

Deeply saddened…

  

I have never been saddened like this for a long time, few minutes back I came to know from the Net that Wislawa Szymborska has passed away months back. It’s sad that mediocre and crude that Indian elite predominantly is (they control and feed all structures with incredible travesty), it is getting increasingly difficult to chaff rare piece of treasure from overwhelming muck. Don’t know how am I not aware of this…. 

“I don't know” she said “It's small, but it flies on mighty wings. It expands our lives to include the spaces within us as well as those outer expanses in which our tiny Earth hangs suspended.” Without it, she said, Isaac Newton would have gobbled apples rather than pondering the force that makes them drop. Her compatriot Marie Curie would have “wound up teaching chemistry at some private high school for young ladies from good families.” What a brilliant thought!! 

Wislawa Szymborska's poems left deep imprint and is a significant influence. I am so very saddened. Few lines from her poem…

Something doesn’t start

at its usual time.

Something doesn’t happen

as it should. Someone was always, always here,

then suddenly disappeared

and stubbornly stays disappeared.