It has been more than a month since the Delhi elections' surprising results and a new party coming in to form a nebulous government. While their commitment to clean governance is commendable, what worries me is if they will make the next parliament of 2014 a hung one too? Will they carve out their own set of MPs along with the Third front and the BJP?
It is evident that the skyrocketing inflation and the ridiculous "schemes" of social welfare floated by the Congress has not sat well with the electorate as the financing for these social schemes have come at the cost of high inflation as no productive work has generated the revenues required for the higher expenses.
Will democracy in India stand the test of time once more? Will the people in India defy all logic and poll gurus and decide their own mandate in the 2014 Lok Sabha polls?
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Another New Year: Let Time Celebrate You
Time. In India, it is represented by a wheel that keeps turning and hence comes back to the same point ever few measures of "time" while in many other parts of the world, it is a linear proposition of adding 1 in an infinite number line of years rolling forward.
Sri Sri Ravi Shankar says, "Let Time celebrate you!" and I wondered how that would manifest in my life. What are some of the gifts that time brings my way as I move through it? How about "suspended" time when in meditation where all sense of space-time is dissolved? People, things, events, situations, thoughts, ideas come my way and some stay, some slip by while some vanish entirely.
It has become so much easier to just be in the present moment and let the moment offer itself up to me in its entirety and I just celebrate it! The fireworks can be heard through the window.
Happy New Year!
Sri Sri Ravi Shankar says, "Let Time celebrate you!" and I wondered how that would manifest in my life. What are some of the gifts that time brings my way as I move through it? How about "suspended" time when in meditation where all sense of space-time is dissolved? People, things, events, situations, thoughts, ideas come my way and some stay, some slip by while some vanish entirely.
It has become so much easier to just be in the present moment and let the moment offer itself up to me in its entirety and I just celebrate it! The fireworks can be heard through the window.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Book Review: A Thousand Splendid Suns
Many years ago, I got to read The Kite Runner and as much as I loved it, I hated it- the sheer pain of human suffering. The second book along the same theme, but with the primary protagonists being female tells a silent, muted story.
The title reflects the description of Kabul, the proud city that has stood witness to umpteen revolutions and takeovers for centuries. Woven onto its tapestry, is the story of a young "harami" girl Mariam from Herat that is located in the western side of Afghanistan. Her father marries her off to an abusive older man in Kabul that is a long journey to the East of the country.
At one level, the abuse suffered by Mariam is reflective of the abuse suffered by Kabul brought about by the various factions and groups who want total power over the land and will do anything to gain it. At another level, it is the enduring story of Woman. The mother of child. No matter the "abuse", she protects her young and is undaunted in the face of the worst possible desecration. And when the breaking point is reached, she fends for herself as the city does- she resurrects.
Laila, the other protagonist, carries Mariam's story forward as she is the next generation. Whatever the opinions on who ought to rule Kabul, the bottom line, war's casualty can never be measured. It is too painful to begin the count. Its impact scars the soul.
My interactions with Afghanistan, apart from the History textbooks were limited to the few Afghans and Pashtuns who came to Delhi in the 70s and 80s during their incessant revolutions. Some of them studied in the same schools and colleges as us and we got to be friends. I could see the pride mingled with grief in their eyes. Decades later, when I came to the United States, I understood what it meant to leave your country behind. In my case, it was not an issue of life and death, it was of free choice. In theirs, it was no choice- it was a matter of living, of enduring.
Khaled Hosseini scores once more. And I was happy to learn that he is from San Jose and went to a local school. Maybe his next story is more "pleasurable" and less painful- maybe it will deal with the rebuilding of a beautiful land called Afghanistan.
The title reflects the description of Kabul, the proud city that has stood witness to umpteen revolutions and takeovers for centuries. Woven onto its tapestry, is the story of a young "harami" girl Mariam from Herat that is located in the western side of Afghanistan. Her father marries her off to an abusive older man in Kabul that is a long journey to the East of the country.
At one level, the abuse suffered by Mariam is reflective of the abuse suffered by Kabul brought about by the various factions and groups who want total power over the land and will do anything to gain it. At another level, it is the enduring story of Woman. The mother of child. No matter the "abuse", she protects her young and is undaunted in the face of the worst possible desecration. And when the breaking point is reached, she fends for herself as the city does- she resurrects.
Laila, the other protagonist, carries Mariam's story forward as she is the next generation. Whatever the opinions on who ought to rule Kabul, the bottom line, war's casualty can never be measured. It is too painful to begin the count. Its impact scars the soul.
My interactions with Afghanistan, apart from the History textbooks were limited to the few Afghans and Pashtuns who came to Delhi in the 70s and 80s during their incessant revolutions. Some of them studied in the same schools and colleges as us and we got to be friends. I could see the pride mingled with grief in their eyes. Decades later, when I came to the United States, I understood what it meant to leave your country behind. In my case, it was not an issue of life and death, it was of free choice. In theirs, it was no choice- it was a matter of living, of enduring.
Khaled Hosseini scores once more. And I was happy to learn that he is from San Jose and went to a local school. Maybe his next story is more "pleasurable" and less painful- maybe it will deal with the rebuilding of a beautiful land called Afghanistan.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Shivrathri 2013
Fasting, going to a local temple, singing bhajans, chanting the panchakshari mantra, keeping an all night vigil, all these defined Shivratri for me for decades now.
Today, however, I just wanted to withdraw within me. Be in silence, in solitude. And something made me log into a new blogger account and start what I had stopped some years ago- blogging. Do I want to "share" anything in this electronic world? I don't know. Or am I just sharing it with myself wondering if other parts of "me" will "respond" in this universe? Does it matter. I suppose not. Yet, in this night filled with the Shiva principle of super consciousness, of expanded "self", sitting in solitude, it seemed fine to just type down some random thoughts as they crossed my field of thought.
Today, however, I just wanted to withdraw within me. Be in silence, in solitude. And something made me log into a new blogger account and start what I had stopped some years ago- blogging. Do I want to "share" anything in this electronic world? I don't know. Or am I just sharing it with myself wondering if other parts of "me" will "respond" in this universe? Does it matter. I suppose not. Yet, in this night filled with the Shiva principle of super consciousness, of expanded "self", sitting in solitude, it seemed fine to just type down some random thoughts as they crossed my field of thought.
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