141 Monday Musings – The futility of knowledge

141 Monday Musings – The futility of knowledge

Kabeer the mystic Bhakti poet was a big critic of institutionalized religion and all forms of ritualism. Of the many dimensions of ritualism that directed his ire against, one was institutionalized form of knowledge - the kind which is read or studied from books, the ones which if followed blindly, without regard to context or reason, can defeat the purpose of its pursuit. Kabeer went on to criticize the champions of such knowledge of those times in an acerbic tone, laced with disdain and sarcasm, ultimately drawing attention to the futility of such pursuit and such knowledge. Usually the metaphor of 'pandit' or 'maulvi' is used in abundance by him as a symbol of the repository or proponents of such knowledge in those times. For today’s times we can easily contextualize them to any fixed or rigid knowledge or protectors of such knowledge, who or whom refuse to adapt, learn or move on with times.

Kabeer says,

Pandit aur masalchi, dono soojhan nahi

auran ko kare chandana, aap andhere mahi

(the Pandit and the torchbearer do not understand, that they may be providing light to others, they themselves are in the dark)

Kabeer bahman ki katha, so choran ki naav

sab andhe mil baithiya, bhave tah le jaav

(Kaeer those who speak from only books are like a boat in the hand of thieves - all like blind people rowing it, it shan't reach the shore)

Padhi guni pathak bhaye, samjhaya sansaar

aapan to samjhe nahi, vritha gaya avtaar

(The teacher, who read only from books and tried to explain the mysteries of the world, did not understand those mysteries himself and wasted his life)

In today’s times, when all around us recorded knowledge reigns supreme, but that recorded knowledge has its own limitations. Wisdom, intellect, imagination and awareness are made to play second fiddle for not only children but also adults. Kabeer must be rediscovered as must be wisdom and imagination.

As my friend Pankaj Dubey often says, Knowledge is what already exists, imagination is what can be.

Guru 

140 Monday Musings – The Book will find you

140 Monday Musings – The Book will find you

The Confucious saying 'When the student is ready, a teacher appears' has stayed with me for many years now. At different points of time, I have found inspiration and solace in his timeless statement. The notion of each one of us being eternal, permanent and restless students in search of meaning, some meaning that will uplift us from the mundane to the sublime has been a recurring theme through my own restlessness. Much as we dislike the classical and popular image of a student, as someone who is being forced to study against his free will, the reality is that there is a learner lurking right there in each one of us.

Most lives are the relative struggle about hiding or revealing, shackling or liberating, denying or acknowledging, suppressing or encouraging the learner in us. I find it ironical and tragic in a lot of ways, that the literal meaning of the word Taliban is students - the pursuit of learning, the exact meaning of the word Sikh - meaning disciple, in the pursuit of learning. Much of human life is the story of the life being ready to learn, to reach the ripe stage and state, where a magical teacher shall appear. All human struggles and its resultant angst are only up to that point.

It is a common expression in our country on the matter of pilgrimages, that it’s only when He wills, will you be able to undertake the blessed journey. The concept of 'abhi bulawa nahi aay hai' is an often heard one, betraying the same thought - the God will allow His darshan, only when the devotee is ready or has earned it. How many times we have heard the angst of people of a lifelong desire to visit a holy shrine, but for strange reasons of coincidences, not being able to make it, despite no limitations of resources. Guess the pilgrim was not ready.

The real progenitor of this piece is a thought that I have been ruminating on for some time now, which is crystallizing as I write this. We may know of many books and buy many of them - but every book has a time, just right for the reader to devour its pages. You may hold the book for years, try reading it much as you want it, but will not be able to finish, assimilate or internalize it, till you are ready. Buying a book is a sign of your material ability, borrowing it is a sign of your credit ability, but till you are intellectually or spiritually able, in the truest sense of the word, to assimilate the worth of its meaning, comprehend the expanse of its treatment, appreciate the finesse of its nuances, the book will elude you for some strange reason or the other. While you may keep reminding yourself that you have not found time to read it, the reality is that you are not ready yet, and the book has not called you, yet! You may not know it, the book does.

And just on the lines of the Confucius prediction, the moment you are ready, the book will find you.

Guru

 

139 Monday Musings - Two taxi drivers

139 Monday Musings - Two taxi drivers

Meeting a different kind of people, the ones about whom you have only heard of so far but never really met, can be a very revealing experience. Genetic biologists say that there is 99.7% similarity between any two human beings, across the world, which means that there is only .3% difference between any two samples of homo sapiens - a number that surely makes a mockery of the hundreds of pretexts on which human beings have managed to distinguish themselves from each other. India can be a very overwhelming place if we go by the number of ways in which identities are sliced and chopped, each making us thinner and more mutually exclusive sub groups, based on the usual suspects - religion, castes, sub castes so on and so forth. Over a period of time popular stereotypes of each of these sub groups gets built and entrenched. There are many circumstances during which these stereotypes get challenged. 

On an alien land, which is too different from us, somebody less different suddenly appears more familiar and acceptable. This power and relevance of this truism became more evident to me on a recent trip to Dubai, I had the chance to be driven around the city, at two different times by two taxi drivers - all Pakistanis, who appeared more familiar, acceptable and accepting to me in Dubai than the thought of Pakistan and Pakistanis has been while I have been in India. This was probably my first experience to test my feelings towards the people of a country whose existence for us has been like sibling rivalry - born of the same wombs, but grown to hate each other where while one can hate the other but never really deny his existence. Though I have always been acutely aware of how divisive language can be, I realized through these interactions its ability to forge bonds. As we struck a conversation with Ghulam and Bilal, the two taxi drivers in question, so much got revealed - some that I enjoyed and some that I did not.

Ghulam, a pasthun from Karachi was sturdy, fair complexioned and more on the face of the two. He had clear and firm views about everything, particularly the status of cricket in the subcontinent. According to him Sachin should have retired after the world cup the way Imran Khan did, has become too old and is probably only interested in his 100th ton, things that we obviously contested. Ghulam remained firm in his views about Sachin as a spent force, nowhere near divine as we make it out here in India.

Bilal, the younger of the two, a punjabi from Gujranwala, a town near Lahore, was more expressive. We talked on many things and in no particular order I recount a few of those to you. He thought Imran khan had a chance in the politics of Pakistan for simple and elegant reason that people had already experimented with Nawaz Sharif and Benazeer Bhutto, without much result and hence simple rule of fairness and the incumbency effect combined merited that we try the third one out. He also thought that we are making too much fuss about the match fixing in Pakistan cricket - of the 300 balls in an innings even if the bowler favored his own people in 10 of them, then we should not really create too much hue and cry about it. He thought that Shoab Akhtar is mentally deranged and Sachin definitely a spent force.

Bilals view about Bollywood were an interesting academic read, for it definitely proves that the best way to conquer Pakistanis is definitely not another war, but our films. He thought Hritik was hardworking, Ranbeer just about ok, Shahid a good actor, Salman a mindless hunk, Aamir as intelligent but Shahrukh a very well read and educated actor. He had seen practically all the recent movies of these stars and could make his views about them basis the roles these stars had essayed in them. Bilal spoke fluent Punjabi and said that while Urdu may be the national language of Pakistan, folks spoke their local language mostly i.e Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashtun et al, something which so true about Hindi and all the other languages in various states in India - so different and yet so similar!!!

Bilal was endearing in the way he came across - warm, affectionate, expressive, knew his mind and knew how to express it. He surely had his quirks and stereotypes, yet he was forthcoming in the expression of his likes and dislikes in a very honest and upright way. I kind of liked him - and if he is how an average Pakistani is, then two things are clear - one, we are not much different than them, and two I am going to like their company, for they may be anything else, but they surely are not boring.

Guru

 

138 Monday Musings # What January's foretell

138 - What January's foretell

When one has seen a sufficient numbers of new years, one is in a position to compare the manner in which one ushered them. There is a mood of the times that gets emphasized and heightened, influenced by the manner in which the previous December had breathed its last, and depending upon how the winds are blowing, perching the coming year precariously - either erect with hope and optimism or leaden with ambiguity and uncertainty.

January of 2012 amongst its peer group of various January's will surely occupy a place of special analytical curiosity, neither offering clear answers, nor sufficiently jolted by the barrage of questions; neither offering the resplendence of a great year unfolding itself, nor painting the darkness of doom, neither here, not there - with just enough evidence for the bulls and the bears, the eternal optimists and the perennial pessimists, the merchants of hope and the vampires of despair.

The naysayers will refer to what is wrong in political, economic, national and social spheres. Politically, this appears to be a government in suspended animation, the phrase 'policy paralysis' used most often to describe its frenzied inaction, or at least the absence of action that matters; a government which has made shooting itself into its foot a revered art form; the opposition which is inexplicably incoherent and adolescent, does not give hope any fresh lease if life. The economy seems to oscillate between bad news and very bad news, often celebrating the former, because it’s not very bad - GDP numbers getting revised every month but never for the better, shrinking demand, mostly increasing interest rates, dodgy rupee, FII's dalliance with the India story souring- creating an atmosphere bereft of positive sentiment, something which is as important as content. Things haven’t been rosy nationally as well, with the 2G court ruling questioning the policy itself, the executive-judiciary faceoff will not be far behind, as if mud sticking on the political class was not enough having recently faced their worst existential crisis posed by a frail ex soldier and now social reformer from Ralegaon sidhi. While US seems to be holding on, every day something new happens in Europe and the naysayers say, the worst is yet to come. As you can see, not a great description any January would have liked to have.

The Chinese believe that the balance in the universe is maintained by the Ying and the Yang, the opposite forces of nature that keeps things in balance. One does not exist without other and the counterbalance that they provide to each other is the essence of harmony in nature. To all the Ying above, there are evidences of Yang as well, albeit subtle and not obvious to common observation. Politically what we are seeing unfold through all that is distasteful and hopeless, is a purge that was long overdue. Some argue that at least the wrongdoings are catching up. More cases against corruption have seen the light of the day, more arrests and convictions, however woefully inadequate they might be in proportion to the overall mess, have happened in the last few years than any time ever. The politics of the country is undergoing its own manthan, its catharsis or purge, a painful correction that is seeing venom being spewed out, absence of Neelkanth notwithstanding. Every society has gone through this purge before calm, order and sanity has prevailed. Economically, a 7% growth is still one amongst the best in the world, and given the independence and reliance our economy has on domestic consumption, I think we are not half as bad as those who quite literally walk on the crutches of exports. India will, as it has in the past, will grow inspite of the government, not because of it. Europe and US would have learnt its lessons in the merits of living within its means and take necessary actions and limp towards recovery. Most importantly I sense an undoubted optimism on the streets, if not in the board rooms and the dalal street, of ordinary people’s faith in their present being better than their past, and by the same exuberant logic of extension, their future being better than their present.

I happen to be one of them, though it may not be possible to provide sufficient evidence to that optimism. Sometimes, it’s not possible to provide those evidences, and at other times they are not needed.      

Guru

 

137 Monday Musings - The tyranny of year ends

137 - The tyranny of year ends

In a lot of ways, each year that passes by is unique, bejewelled by the events that decorate it, by the footprints that one leaaves on it and what it leaves on us - and yet in a lot of ways each year is also similar to all others - in that each one finally, ultimately and permanently passes. After a few decades, years that have gone by become faceless, similar and difficult to distinguish from one another. When they begin, they are pregnent with possibilities and when they end they are one among the many, like faces in the crowd that we know exist but cannot make out in the blur. The year gets born in January and dies in december, never to be recovered, never to be distilled as something unique, remembered only through random events. Do i really remember 1988 as distinct from 1989 or any two years of my life? Can i really demarcate what began in 2001 and ended with it?  Do we really plan life year by year - If yes, i salute the methodical in us and if no, then what is the brohuha in the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012!

Sometimes i believe, that the end and the beginning of another year is such an overrated event. In taking stock of the year, the way it will be done the whole of this week, i get an impression that every year is a project, which has to be accounted for at the end of the measuring period. In measuring time as a linear construct, wtih a beginning and an end, so much angst and stress gets generated in the pursuit of salvaging what lies between the beginning and the end. I wish there was a better measure of time, something that leaves more to celebrate and less to regret. Yes, i want to make the best of the time i have got, pack in the most in the suitcase i am given, but i want to do it at my will, my pace and my comfort - not with the sword of damocles that hangs on my neck, not under duress and pressure. Yes i understand that fulfillment will come at making every moment worthy, but sometimes fulfillment also comes in going slow, in less, in moderation and in thoughtfullness, rather than a mindless frenzy for more. I love driving slow so that i can see and enjoy the countryside. I want to experience the year as my muse, not as a tyrant.

So yes, this is my last musing for 2011. I should have mused more often than i managed, i missed many mondays and i missed many experiences, insights and thoughts that should have converted themselves into cogent and coherent musings. Many of them are permanently lost, in a way many died untimely for want of adequate intellectual and emotional noursihment, and yet i would want to believe many are just hibernating - waiting for the right conditions to spring to life. Going by the xperience of the years gone by, I doubt i will remember 2011 as a unique year with an unique identity, despite many audacious attempts at doing something new, but i will definitely be at peace with myself in the wisdom, that the world has not come to an end. Its just a meausre, that has its moment of glory, but at the end of it all, its just a measure of time, not the meausre of life.

And that still rocks.

Guru

136 Monday Musings The folly of Certitudes

136- The folly of certitudes

The other day I got to deliver a talk (calling it a lecture would so much denigrate it) at my B school alma mater. When I was told to talk on 'Career Management', a part of me went stiff, for in my own mind, I am probably the last person suitable and able to to guide youngsters on an issue that has plagued my own journey for so long, and with so little clarity.

My Professor chose this subject for me because in her assessment my journey, brownianesque in a way, had not followed a traditional course. I had graduated in pharmacy, and then studied marketing during my management course, started off as a product manager with a pharmaceutical company, but soon drifted again to hunt for fortunes in the sales training business in a life insurance company. The questions I was asked were pretty predictable for the audience who was at that stage of their career where such questions do corner a large proportion of their existential angst- How to chose subjects, how often one must switch jobs, how to make money fast, what are the pitfalls of going entrepreneurial, how easy or difficult it is to change functions or kind of jobs so on an so forth. I can only imagine how hollow and theoretical and how utterly patronizing my answers must have appeared to them, going by how they felt when I used to sit on that side of the auditorium.

I have played that interaction of an hour or so many times in my mind and have desperately wanted to change the answers, like one distressingly wants to change the answers after appearing for an exam where he knows that he could have done better. How much more sense I wish I had made to them, given them a sense of script that I had before embarking on my journey, script which they were probably searching for, a formula they probably had imagined I had before I took my call and got it right, in their eyes at least!. If only they knew better.

Restlessness can be a plague to the soul. Being permanently in search of that thing, which would give the elixir called satisfaction, a sense of completion, of having arrived - and then having reached that milestone, that terrifying existential question - is this what one was looking for, making one question the worth of all those years, a sense of waste and emptiness engulfing your sense of being. Only those cursed by that sense of restlessness can identify with that sinking feeling, when on the face of it all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place, when on the face of it, life has just fallen into place. Each time this abyss faces squarely on your face, the clock has been reset at 00.00hrs.  

I have asked myself many times over, as I mull over the confidence with which I answered those questions - did I really have a plan, did I really take a calculated decision, completely aware and informed, was I really sure of what I was doing? I am sure of the answer - Certainly NOT. One acts on hunch, on instinct, on something deep beneath the diaphragm that is screaming that this is to be done, that this MUST be done, for it FEELS right. Surely not a scientific algorithm that one will risk the ship to, not a map but only a compass, to borrow a phrase. I am not even sure that those punts have been right, but at least i feel OK that I played the hand that way.

The best of advises come from the worst of people and I have this nagging feeling that someone with a penchant for losing his way being made the cartographer! But being lost in this time and day of certitudes can be a virtue. In any case there are others who are much more lost but living much more fulfilling lives. Amir Khusro says

"Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar,
Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar"

(Strange is the way of love, only he reaches the shore who has the courage to drown) 

Guru 

135- Monday Musings – Murder of an artist

135- Monday Musings – Murder of an artist

An old quote keeps coming back to me and it goes like this - 'If before 30 you are not a communist you don’t have an heart and if after 30 you are still a communist you don’t have brains'. On the same lines I am led to believe that there is an artist in most of us before 30. After that usually life takes over.

Rockstar, the new movie on the block, is a fantastic watch for the many nuances it carries with it - there is something in it for everyone. For the star crossed lovers there is that pain of a love that shall never see its fulfillment, cheated either by circumstances or death. For the artist there is this search for the elusive inspiration that will transform a gawky teenager to a raging sensation and when that poignant artistic inspiration fired by human angst does arrive, it does so with a deep sense of pain - a pain which at the same time is the progenitor of the artistic brilliance and the one thing that will not allow him to enjoy the fruits of his success. How tragic and how moving.

History is dominated with the tales of pained geniuses, so much so that it is unthinkable to believe that artistic brilliance can be even attempted in a life bereft of tragedy and angst. There are reporters of art, who write, appreciate, read, perform and enjoy - they are like the moon, glowing on borrowed resplendence and then there are creators of art - one who creates, designs, writes, essays, and portrays. It seems that the latter has a special penchant for agony, grief and suffering - they almost thrive on it, live on it. Take the agony away and you have taken away the soul from their work. Suffering has created more music, more literature, more poetry, and more art than anything else.

Suffering is hugely personal construct. One can, quite literally, choose to suffer. Most of us go through the usual grind, give and take a few minor details- heart breaks, coming of age, finding the calling in life, directionlessness, confusion over choices, dealing with the consequences of it - so on and so forth. Some deal with the roller coaster and become successful. Others take it to heart and become artists. The latter become successful and famous in the eyes of the former because there is something uplifting and autobiographical in the tale of every artist and his art. This is mostly because those of us who made safer choices, dumbed and numbed our personal agonies, let the artist in us die, sometimes thankfully so, but find echoes of those memories in every story of a celebrated artist - someone who we could have been.

Ah! Such is that bitter sweet world of 'could have been’; such is its angst that it can fuel the artist in you. Wait a bit more and then life will take over. Will it, yet again is the million dollar question.

Guru