Aamir the Hero

As an actor, he was everyone's hero. In real life, he didn't turn out to be one for his wife. However, he might have scored a karmic ace in redemption with his TV show, Satyamev Jayate. The first episode was on female infanticide, and from what I have read in the press, this has shaken the conscience of our nation, which we jokingly call Mother India.

Apparently, this iniquity is not restricted to the poor, but extends to the affluent and educated as well, and across the length and breadth of India. And although Kerala has a state has all the ingredients of an economy on a Grecian path,- without any clear vision for the future, it remains the only state in India where there are more girls than boys. Governments past and present quite conveniently equated our basic literacy drives with education,- but they did well to squeeze in this vital element of gender-equality into the syllabus. If at all Kerala has to accord any recognition to its political apparatus, it has to be for this alone.


Switching back to female infanticide, my wife gifted me a daughter after four years of marriage. Her birth turned my world upside down, and undoubtedly for all the right reasons. If I have felt anguish, stress or tension, it's only because of concern for my daughter, and not because of one. What fuels this fire of bias against girls, who, according to Hindu tradition, are the Lakshmi of the house? Atrocities that transcend social and economic segregation have to be rooted in a deeper and more endemic cultural contamination. How else do you explain this happening even in the metros? But then, if you have to uproot cultural vices, you have to strike at the very roots. 


And this is what Aamir is making an attempt at, and for which, he has to hailed as a real hero. 

ln love with Japan

I have been on a hiatus for close to an year, and for reason. Most of my writing of last year stuck to business, which, incidentally, was a disaster of tsunamic proportions.

But what has prodded me to recommence my online banter has been my recent trip to Japan. Ever since I can remember, this country has fascinated me immensely. And the movie, The Last Samurai, had but served to inspire further.

Royal Park Hotel in the BG, the tallest building in Japan

By any yardstick, Japan has to be the most polite and respectful nation in the world. I have visited North America, Europe, Africa and some parts of Asia. And Japan is the first country I have been to where even the Immigration officers at the airport are polite. This is only the beginning.

This is also a country where they have made a religion out of cleanliness. Everything is spotlessly clean. Even the chairs,- and I mean the underside. I had happened to knock over one in my room, and the underside was as spotlessly clean(ed) as the cushion-side. To put things in perspective, if you are in public and want to use the washroom, make sure you wait till a Japanese person comes out.

If they treat cleanliness with religious fervour, they are also meticulous to a fault. I think the fabled tea-ceremony is just one of the more publicized acts of perfection in action. Truth is, they make a ritual out of any mundane act. We were in the breakfast lounge in our hotel, (70th floor!), and there was this person pouring sauce over his salad in a slow, meticulous and near perfect motion. And he was just another guest. In the ads, as in real life, you see only the chefs do it this way.

Quite strangely, meticulous also equates to efficient, though occidental education and upbringing suggest otherwise. The Japanese are the gold standard in efficiency. And it goes right down to speech. They tend to talk less, shut up more and think deep. In fact, one of their proverbs is,- Hear One, Understand Ten. We were in a meeting with around ten executives of JGC, and this is probably the first powerpoint presentation I have made in my entire professional life, where they actually listened and observed throughout, not just heard and saw. The questions that came up post presentation where accurate and educated. And short. I feel the Japanese actually believe that too many words contaminate speech,- if you go by another quite poignant proverb of theirs: A stalemate is too many people talking too much!

In the last Samurai, the Japanese emperor is shown to be observing the cherry-blossoms the very next morning after a blitzkreig on their village. He seemed to be absolutely detached from the violent proceedings of the previous night where he nearly lost his life, and demonstrated the nonchalance of one who accepts destiny as destiny, one who is entirely immersed in the present. The Japanese seem to manifest this incredible state of equanimity on a daily basis. The kind of composure they demonstrated after the double whammy of 2011 show just how resilient, tenacious and strong-willed they are. Somewhat like Mumbaikars,- barring the composure part.

The not-so-marketable element of Japanese society like xenophobia didn't unsettle me much, although this would have seriously offended a politically-correct nation like the US. I don't even call it xenophobia or racism, just a cultural thing to keep within themselves. Japan could be the most homogeneous country in the world, but if preservation lies in purity, so be it.

To sum up by paraphrasing someone else who has managed to put my thoughts to words more eloquently than I could ever manage:

"Partly it is the beauty of the country...
Partly it is the ancient, intricate arts and crafts...
Partly it is the bottomless depths of Zen Buddhism...
Partly it is the cuisine...
And partly--and perhaps most persuasively of all--it is the kindness and sensitivity of the Japanese people...

The truth, of course, is that all of these attributes interact in amazingly complex and compelling ways, creating the whole of Japanese culture and countryside--a whole that is as enchanting as it is enigmatic."
Traveler's Tales - Japan, True Stories of Life on the RoadDonald W. George, Amy Griemann Carlson

Reading Between the Lines - 39 - Pakistan downgrade unleashes turmoil in Somalia

Hindustan Times - 09-08-2011: US will remain "triple-A": Obama

P's C: Pakistan will remain "triple-X": Zardari

After a landmark credit downgrade of Pakistan, President Asif Ali Zardari on Monday asserted Pakistan would always remain a "triple-A" country in terrorism rating and the country's economic prosperity was "imminently solvable", given the fundamentalist will.

Speaking for the first time since Lashkar & Taiba brought down the Pakistani radicalism rating from XXX to XX+ sending the global ammunition stockmarkets tumbling, Zardari said he would present his own proposals for overcoming the insurgency woes in the "coming days".

"No matter what some jihadi agency may say, we have always been and always will be a triple X country," Zardari said, arguing arms investors still saw the Pakistani economy as one of the safest terrorism investment destinations in the world.

"Here's the good news. Our problems are imminently solvable. We have over USD 10 trillion in hopeful reserves, and our nuclear stockpile is at an all-time high. So, we are still a safe bet. Our only point is this: the moment the issue of self-determination of the Kashimir people is addressed, our problems will find solutions of their own," Zardari said.

"Making ideological reforms doesn't require any radical step. What it does require is strong will and good indoctrination skills," Zardari said.

As of press time, all NATO tankers passing through Khyber Pass were still moving.

The Rainbow Nation

I am in Cape Town,- Africa's most popular tourist destination. The Atlantic is within sniffing distance and from my room in The Table Bay Hotel, I can see Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela spent 18 years of his incarceration, bereft of everything but his iron will.

From what I have seen and read, South Africa is also a beautiful country, with a rich history of everything that humanity has come to be known for,- peace, crime, inspiration, apartheid, self-preservation, unemployment, progress, slavery, Nelson Mandela, breath-taking beauty, and (the need for) a roadmap.

From Dr. Christian Bernard's hospital three minutes from here, to Robben island, South Africa is a rainbow nation in many ways, and maybe a bit like other newly-Westernised places, where the message of universality is still in the infancy of implementation. That said, it is always better for an idea to be born and in infancy, than in the head and in gestation. The seven colours are not only distinct, but also differentiated. This plural-cultural society has to be transformed into a multi-cultural society. But then, the African people have dominated the spiritual world-map with their indomitable spirit. And if they have climbed many mountains of darkness, they can swim through oceans of inequality as well.

Some years back, I stayed with some South Africans in Puttaparthi. One of the youth mentioned: We are Africans, we can endure anything. Africa has come a long way from enduring to inspiring. And South Africa stands to exemplify this transformation in some ways.

Chalo Dilli enroute Cape Town

I do not generally watch movies, much less, Hindi movies. And if I am flying, I generally avoid movies altogether, even if it long-haul. The takeaway from a standard Hindi movie value is the equivalent relaxation from two shots of tequila,- temporary relief and life-long regret. I avoid the former, I abstain from the latter.

But then, stereotyping Bollywood is like stereotyping Kollywood. The same factory that dishes out the regular trash, also dished out Pithamakan. And thus, we come to Chalo Dilli.

The whole movie is about two sharply contrasted and well stereotyped characters (but of course) who end up driving together to Delhi from Mumbai, via train, car, truck, jeep, and camel-cart. One is a high-flying professional and the other is a desi shopkeeper. By the end of the movie, the professional gets the message that life is much more than the small obstacles she faces that equate to big deals in her life. The end is, less climactic as it is poignant, and in the last few scenes of the movie lies the message of life.

Personally, this couldn't have come at a better time for me. I have been struggling with work, and standing on my head to secure a particular project, as if this will be the panacea to all my problems.

But then, the universe has a purpose for everything. Right down to the movies that you watch. Else, I, who never watch anything on-board, but for The Simpsons and the History channel, had to settle down to Hindi. And when things have been going bad for quite some time for me, and when I have been focusing on business growth to address issues as diverse as health and personal life, the tag-line of the movie becomes the message for me: Kaun si badi baat ho gayi? (what's the big deal?)

In all probability, the inevitable will happen. I might or might not secure the project that I have been struggling for. But over the last 24 hours, everything has taken a dramatic shift (in the mind), and so, if the inevitable is inevitable: what's the big deal?

The Mahasamadhi metaphor

I don’t know the karmic computation that led us to be among the first to behold the marbled edifice that will hold the elements of the Avatar, but the symbolism became quite apparent in a while. As we sat there, half awake, half pretending to be awake, it somehow felt as if this would be yet another day in Puttaparthi, when one would go through the exercise of stretch, strain and ache to catch a partially self-conjured glimpse of the Avatar separated by the rolled-up window of His car, and the waists, hands, arms and letters of a hundred devotees in front of you.

While I kept reminding myself to be fully awake by 8.30 AM when the Mahasamadhi would be unveiled to the devotees, I threw occasional glances at the VVIPs streaming in and students loitering about as if it was last year. And just when I began to wander again inside, the gong rang out in deep bass, and with a mode of surrealism that the Avatar Himself was so good at, the red curtains were drawn apart. It seemed unreal for a second, just like a gentle nudge that shakes you out of a slumber to a sobering awakening, an awakening that, as always with the Avatar, is more felt and experienced than heard and observed.

The podium has been reworked, the Ganesha idol removed, pillars added, and the recessed area walled from three sides. The backdrop is a round beautiful picture of the Avatar flanked on both sides by soft, long, vertical lights in yellow. Everything seemed to there, simplicity, ostentation, poignancy and insentience. But then again, everything about Parthi is like that. All looked normal, as if there is nothing different. After the unveiling, it was spiritual business as usual,- chants, talks, songs and bhajans.

What struck me was what one of the speakers noted. He stressed that this Mahasamadhi is unlike any other, in that, this breathes and thrives through the devotion of all who come here. The symbolism is not to be missed. Till date, we would wait for the physical form to glide in; now He will wait for our physical forms to gather. This seems to be the first dawn of a day in the life of every devotee which will never be like the past days of his life, and where, he will have to fight with a higher level of consciousness, just to get to that level.

It is like coming home to your mother, only to discover that though she is still there, your house has changed from the inside out, and her form has changed, and when you have barely managed to regain your spiritual wits, it becomes time to leave. Of course, you also realize that the only thing that is still the same is the outside world, and this tragicomically will remain what it always was: till you realize that you are, but to walk the invisible, but verily perceptible gossamer line between the tragic and comedic.

Unexpect the expected

We all know what’s to happen very shortly. Prema Sai will arrive. He will be born in a village in Karnataka. And He will complete the Plan He drew up for Himself. And the rest, like they say, is posterity.

We had the great fortune of meeting Br. Sai Rameesh, the grandson of N. Kasturi, the veritable Arjuna or Vyasa or Hanuman of this age (depending on which sect is offering the hypothesis). And we had quite an uplifting conversation with this modern-day Parkishit, sitting in the garden beside the North blocks, under a tree planted by him many years back. For someone of his lineage, the discussion naturally dwelt on the metaphysical aspects of the Avatar and His message, but the most important revelations had less to do with spirituality, and more to do with posterity, rather, our version of posterity.

Now, before we get to Prema Sai, there is something about Sathya Sai as well, that is unheard of, or at least, unknown to me. As per record, Infinity composes itself into a bright blue light and settles in the womb of the Mother. Apparently, last December, Swami told Sai Rameesh that even before this had happened, God had had to enter the mind of the Father, Pedda Venkappa Raju, so that the latter would yearn for a Divine child. This had to precede the auspicious occasion for Mother Eshwaramma.

If this has not caught your spiritual fancy, listen to the next one. During the interview with Sai Rameesh, Swami also mentioned that Prema Sai would not be born in the way the birth is being propagated. In fact, He would not be born at all in the Human form. Rather, Prema Sai would appear for a very short while to some people. Prema Sai would rather, refer to Prema SAI - Prema Sai Always Inside.

This is their version of Prema Sai as per His version of last December. And both Mrs. And Mr. Sai Rameesh want to actively spread this message. When I noted the many happenings in Karnataka, and all the inferences, Br. Sai Rameesh simply remarked that the Avatar can change His Sankalpa as He pleases.

So be it. Whether this entire version is authentic, I know not. Whether it is verifiable, definitely not. Whether it is acceptable, that’s a choice. At the end of the day, the future will bring its own Present. We are better off living with the Gift of today, which is the legacy of our unique past relationship with Divinity. And we are well off to let Prema Sai take care of the future.

Living my heart on my head

Throughout my life, I have been bogged down by this malaise of keeping my heart in my head. I have been reminded by personalities ranging from the psychologist to the plebian that I use too much of my head and little of my heart. This was driven home by Kasturi’s grandson’s German wife, within half a minute of my meeting her. And I had only introduced myself by then. She, undoubtedly, was a good aura reader as well. This is yet another perceptible message from this pilgrimage,- that I need to break free from my servitude to my head at the expense of my heart, a problem that has assailed me from the time I realized I had a mind with a signature labyrinth.

Leonardo Gutter, a member of the Prashanthi Council, and probably the most handsome member of this holy caucus chosen by the Avatar Himself, revealed that when he first came to see Swami, they were all waiting in thousands in a stadium in Chennai, and it seemed like forever. And all of a sudden, he realized that his heart was beating with incredible intensity, as if he was going to have a heart-attack. And then Swami arrived. In other words, his heart could feel what his eyes were yet to see. I think the message was tailor-made for me.

Hotel California

Every trip to Parthi is an eye-opener, and without doubt, it never is either of the two between the ears. Un-strangely enough, the awareness of the epiphany that the vision bestows on you remains demystified till many yeas later, if at all. And one day, we realize that it all makes sense in hindsight, which is the foresight that real Masters possess. This jaunt reminded me of a song entitled, Hotel California by The Scorpions, ‘where you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.’

Parthi is a Hotel California, where you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. All that we can hope to do is to munch and step out and then return again for some more sustenance,- till He decides that there is nothing needed to be fed. That’s probably when it will also dawn upon us that the Hotel had boundaries of our making alone. And, that Paradise was never lost in the first place. Till then, you should allow the stomach to be starved, and the thirst unquenched.

My takeaway will be that I will keep asking what would love do in this situation, for many situations from now on, till I forget to ask. And, when I sink to the state of spiritual starvation, He will send me back to His hotel.

What would love do in this situation?

I have just returned from Puttaparthi, after having participated in the first international event in Parthi after the Mahasamadhi. This was the Youth World Conference 2011, unique in many ways, and the most compelling reason for my first blog in more than a month.

The agenda of the conference itself was a forced departure from the past. We discussed, of all things, politics, flat organizations, communication, miscommunication, lack of communication, democracy, dictatorship, mentoring for youth, mentoring for elders, Samastha Loka, Loka Samastha, and facebook, while none so conscious of the irony of delving on the mundane to expedite the movement to the metaphysical and ultimately to the transcendental.

Every pilgrimage is undertaken with baggage to be dropped off and fresh implements to be brought back. And my biggest takeaway from this trip to Parthi was this question: What would love do in this situation?

One of the speakers spoke from the heart, and, to the heart, and touched everyone present. For the purpose of a reference, I am reminded of our EHV Coordinator Sis. Meena Kumari and the way I have heard her speak. During his talk, he mentioned this statement as a stethoscope for one’s own diagnosis of the mind. This Zonal coordinator, who oversees the operations of the Youth Wing in 16 countries of Southern Europe suggested, in effect, that, the best way to connect with others is to disconnect the mind. And for every situation that is confrontational in appearance, we would need to pose this question to ourselves: What would love do in this situation?

I have known few other questions to be answers in themselves.

Ahmedabad Augury

I was in Ahmedabad over the last few days, and had everything better to do than pen this verse. But then, I did pen, and so, post I should.

Rain hammers through the futile minds of the Ahmedabad label,

The white bed of a clean mindscape confronts

the weight of the universe above,

To premise an epiphanic illumination:

Worry, music, victory, legacy, miscarriage,-

All but whistles from the sultry lips of an eternal illusion

The skeletal sensors stretch out and mate with the tentacles of an amorphous banyan

I ride the animated air of diffused appellation,

The sun rises in the identified East that never was,

The Light shines through an earthly sunshine,

And the clouds scatter into themselves,

The music settles into melody again.

Reading Between the Lines - 37 - Colossal symbol of Indhian ego

The Hindu, 23-05-2011: Tata clarifies his remark

P's C: Ratan Tata seems to have recanted his honest observation on Mukesh Ambani's billion dollar Sindhi signature barn. The Antillia, a 27-storey masterpiece of tasteless and purposeless ostentation which houses all five of Mukesh's family, rises with sophisticated self-respect from the centre of a well-laid out Mumbai slum.

The Tata PR team has announced that Ratan's statement on the person living in there should be concerned about what he sees around him is reportedly out of context, while the slum next door to this iconic expression of an idiotic ego makes it perfectly contextual.

But so what if there are slum-dwellers next door? The Ambani children are also poor in their lack of experience and opportunity to learn form humble beginnings. They have to make do with 400,000 sq.ft. of living space, while slum children nearby have the chance to thrive in 100 sq.ft. shanties. With the peculiar difficulty of having been born into such enormous riches, their children will never be able to tap into the wealth of struggle and desperation that is so generously distributed to the impoverished of India. And being sheltered in this tower that is as breathtaking as a buffalo and which could well have been the handiwork of an inebriated lego-block assembler, these children will be cruelly deprived of such epiphanic moments like leaking roofs and clogged drains. The 600 servants will prevent them from understanding even basic, everyday experiences like how hands can be used to pick food from the plate and ease it into the mouth. Such is their fate.

However, the family is making extensive efforts to be in touch with the reality that is shared by 70% of the country. Although Ambani never made it to the fund-raising discussion that the world's richest philanthropists Gates and Buffet participated in during their trip to India (he was watching cricket at that point in time) his wife is taking active interest in philanthrophy and taking very positive steps in this direction.

Like, did you know that the Abmanis have ONE full school that is running as a charity? Also, for Nita, the world is her oyster when it comes to philanthrophy. She once said, "Look at Africa. There are huge belts of people who live on less than $1 a day... Every one of us is responsible for all of humanity."

She prefers reaching India through Africa. Although there seems to be no connection here, all media-hungry Hollywood celebrities make the desperate move of adopting a child from Africa. Anyway, with such a great start, Nita will finally reach India a few generations from now, and with that the Ambanis would have contributed immensely to propagate, no sorry, mitigate the economic woes of their country.

Yes, they are actually Indian citizens.

The Real Beauty of Buddha Pournami

To celebrate Buddha Pournami, I would like to post Tagore's version of the interaction between Upagupta, the handsome disciple of Buddha and the beautiful dancing girl Vasavadatta.

This is a poem for the 21st century. When Vasavadatta laments on having lost her destructive beauty, Upagupta consoles her saying, "Vasavadatta, you are sorry for losing your beauty which lasts but the summer of life. You are yet to discover a beauty greater than that you have lost, the beauty of the self."

In the age of liposuction, the message of Upagupta overwhelms in its intensity.

UPAGUPTA

Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay sleep in

the dust by the city wall of Mathura.

Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and

stars were all hidden by the murky sky of August.

Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets,

touching his breast of a sudden?

He woke up startled, and a light from a woman's

lamp fell on his forgiving eyes.

It was dancing girl, starred with jewels,

Wearing a pale blue mantle, drunk with the wine

of her youth.

She lowered her lamp and saw young face

austerely beautiful.

"Forgive me, young ascetic," said the woman,

"Graciously come to my house. The dusty earth

is not fit bed for you."

The young ascetic answered, "Woman,

go on your way;

When the time is ripe I will come to you."

Suddenly the black night showed its teeth

in a flash of lightening.

The storm growled from the corner of the sky, and

The woman trembled in fear of some unknown danger.

* . *

A year has not yet passed.

It was evening of a day in April,

in spring season.

The branches of the way side trees were full of blossom.

Gay notes of a flute came floating in the

warm spring air from a far.

The citizens had gone to the woods for the

festival of flowers.

From the mid sky gazed the full moon on the

shadows of the silent town.

The young ascetic was walking along the lonely street,

While overhead the love-sick koels uttered from the

mango branches their sleepless plaint.

Upagupta passed through the city gates, and

stood at the base of the rampart.

Was that a woman lying at his feet in the

shadow of the mango grove?

Stuck with black prestilence, her body

spotted with sores of small-pox,

She had been hurriedly removed from the town

To avoid her poisonous contagion.

The ascetic sat by her side, took her head

on his knees,

And moistened her lips with water, and

smeared her body with sandal balm.

"Who are you, merciful one?" asked the woman.

"The time, at last, has come to visit you, and

I am here," replied the young ascetic.

I'll butcher for my Burberry

I have seen many disturbing videos in my life, but this has to stand out for the sheer apathy of the people doing what they are doing.

You can change no one and no thing, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do your part.

The Burden of Buddhi

Dhanya topped her class from KG to PG, while being second for only one term in Std. VIII. She is a gold medallist Doctor from CMC Vellore. She was the best outgoing student there, and her name is permanently etched on the Senate wall there. She also did her MD from CMC. She finally graduated with more than 32 gold medals, and a zillion certificates. The former National Scholar also secured her DNB, MRCP and her Certificate in Nephrology before she turned 30. Recently, her photo appeared in the Annual Review of MRCP world-wide (she was the only non-British person to have been interviewed for this edition). She has also co-authored an article that appeared in The Lancet, the Bible for the Medical profession.

So, what I am I trying to relay through this panegyric? If you approach Dhanya with a stomach indigestion, at best she may not know what to do. In all probability, your ailment will remain in its same condition post treatment (I am living proof of this). But if you present her with a condition of meningitis, exacerbated by pneumonia and punctuated with chronic kidney disease stage III, I assure you she will offer world-class treatment. I remember when her grandfather was hospitalized, she was the only one (in spite of being a student those days) to actually discover a fracture that none of the senior doctors of the hospital could ever locate.

There is an IIT-ian IAS 1st rank holder from Kerala named Raju Narayanaswamy who was so good at the esoteric stuff that he would not know how to find his way home from the town bus terminal. Her case is not that complicated, though.

The Kerala Paradox

Kerala finds itself in a unique position as it seems to steadily march towards non-relevance on the national stage. The world's first 100% literate state as defined by the UN has just exercised another round of vox populi, without the populi having a cogent vox.

Unlike other states like Tamil Nadu where you know beforehand it's the incumbent you are voting against,- it's either the corrupt ex-Chief Mistress or the corrupt Chief Man, Kerala's problem is a little complicated. On the one side, you have a corrupt party representing an antediluvian ideology headed by a clean CM, or you have a corrupt party headed by an equally corrupt CM candidate representing a progressive ideology.

It's right man-wrong party-terrible ideology vs. terrible party-wrong man-right ideology. So, who does the common literate (not exactly educated) Keralite vote against this time?

Like the eyelid protects the eye

The Avatar says, "I am with you, behind you, beside you – all the time, all the way, wherever you go!"

A high-impact collision of a fully-laden tipper trailer with the stationary van that my brother Prajeen was sitting in, made it fully apparent to him that there is more to Swami's words than just a sweet lilt.

At around 4.00 PM, 11-05-2011, Prajeen was returning to the office along with his colleague and a company driver, and our driver had just made a stop at a red light at Al Quoz. Prajeen was in one of the rear seats of the van, without his seat-belt to be precise, and the other two gentlemen were safely belted in the front seats. After about 90 seconds at the red light, their conversation came to a crashing halt with a tipper ramming into the rear-side of the van with a minimum momentum of 50,000 kgm/s. It was enough to send Prajeen flying into the front. Whiplash is a very normal consequence to such situations, where, the neck is yanked forward sharply due to the inertia of motion, and you can assume the rest. Incidentally, Prajeen is currently going through a neck problem.

However, what ends up happening is that the van plows forward to the red-light post and further on to the concrete road-block beside it, after which it rolls over. The intensity of the collision can be assumed by gathering that it takes quite a bit of effort to topple a nearly half-ton concrete barricade to its side. My brother crawls out through a shattered side window. Our driver is still lying on his side with his seat-belt on, and his colleague has fallen into the well between the dashboard and the front-seat. They are extricated from the van by nearby pedestrians. The only injury to the whole incident was a concussion to the right foot of our colleague, which also didn’t require stitches.

Of course, the van has been written off.

... like the eyelid protects the eye. Jai Sai Ram!

Letting loose the lion in the lemming

I missed this one, and regret it. Long and complicated (yes, it's from SABN), but seriously worth the patient effort:

Siddhartha`s loved ones had planned a different path for him but it was in disobeying them, Buddha, the pathfinder was unfolded. Mahatma Gandhi, Rajaram Mohan Roy, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela... all of them, whom we consider the architects of a new social conscience, authored a political or social revolution by their choice of disobedience.

You can either be a psychological adult or a psychological child. A psychological adult is like a painter. The brush is in his hand and he has the choice of strokes. He creates what he chooses to create. A painter is a choice maker. A psychological child is like a painting. It is a consequence of the painter`s choices. It has no say in what it is becoming. A painting is a mere consequence receiver. Mona Lisa may be the world`s finest piece of art. Yet, it is only a consequence of Leonardo da Vinci`s choices. Millions of Mona Lisas can be duplicated; will there ever be another Leonardo da Vinci?

Your loved ones, your society, your religion, your constitution, your organisation, and your community - everyone wants to play the role of a painter in your life. There is no point in placing your life in someone else`s hands and then cribbing, crying and sobbing that you are not happy with your life. An obedient painting should gleefully accept what it has become, for it had chosen obedient surrender to its painter. Else, snatch the brush. They had their life and if they have missed the chance to paint their life it is their missed opportunity. The canvass of your life cannot be used for their experimentation. You may not have the genius of a Leonardo da Vinci, but it`s okay. Make the strokes you can; scribble; at least what comes out will be your making. Then, your life becomes your responsibility. You might make mistakes, but they will be your mistakes.

Of course, the process of a psychological child attempting to become a psychological adult is always painful for everyone involved. It rarely happens without tears. It is through practice of disobedience that a consequence receiver becomes a choice maker. The choice maker begins to feel that he is losing the hold he always had on the consequence receiver. If you succeed in becoming a choice maker, he cries; if you fail in your attempt, then you cry. Either way, the birth of a psychological adult or the failure to become one always brings with it tears. But those are life`s ways of evolving a new you. Either tearfully become a history maker or tearfully remain a history reader. The world that cries when you begin, will stop crying once you start producing results.

Neither are all disobedient people disrespectful, nor are all obedient people respectful. Lord Mahavira said, `Live and let live.` Christ said, `Love thy neighbour as you love thyself.` Even such messiahs have asked you to put yourself first and then the rest of the world. A choice maker merely puts self-respect first, before he attempts to respect others.

You have only one life to live. Even if you are reborn, you will not be born as you. Don`t miss this chance. Don`t miss yourself. It is better to earn a bad name and live a good life, than to earn a good name and live a bad life. Dare to be yourself.

Reading Between the Lines - 38 - It's Mexico's fault

CBS News, 10-05-2011: Pakistan PM: Don't blame us for bin Laden

Gilani acknowledged his nation's failure to track bin Laden but said the failure wasn't Pakistan's alone."Yes, there has been an intelligence failure," Gilani said. "It is not only ours but of all the intelligence agencies of the world."

P's C: So true. I remember our Home Minister echoing the same sentiment on the topic of Veerappan and the perpetual failure of our forces to capture the bandit. He too had remarked that the intelligence failure in that respect was the fault of all the intelligence agencies of the world, including that of Latvia, Congo and Papua New Guinea.

Reading Between the Lines - 37 - Pakistan orders inquiry into Bin Laden's lair

GN, 10-05-2011: Pakistan orders inquiry into Bin Laden's lair

P's C: Pakistan orders inquiry into Bin Laden's lair, as there has been a shocking revelation that even basic amenities were not provided for an honoured guest who shared their ideology so well. The lair neither had cable trunking, toilet paper, or central air conditioning that would provide a cool mind for creative thinking, all of which are amenities that can be commonly found in a progressive country like Pakistan.

Gilani has stressed that it will pull out all stops to ensure that, going forward, all potential empathisers of the Pakistani mindset will be provided lairs with the latest in remote-controlled curtains, simulation software and digitized Indian maps, so that Pakistan will ever continue to remain the gold standard as the largest terror laboratory in the world.