I like Paul Newman. I am probably in the minority. I mean, who likes Paul Newman? Everybody liked the pretty-boy Robert Redfords. Who liked Paul Newman?
Do you want to know why I like Paul Newman? I'll tell you anyway.
I like Paul Newman because his face has character. He may or may not have any--I don't know--but his face does. For some reason, he seemed to pull off rather well parts that involved playing a little serious, a little lonely, a little dark and a little brooding character. It suited him. He remains one of my favorite actors.
Good movies to watch: The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Hustler, The Color of Money.
I was watching The Sting last night.
A Meeting of Minds
As usual, the item of news that I am about to present below is outdated. March 17, to be precise. The conference in question has probably already been held.
Why am I not johnny on the spot with current affairs and stuff? My excuse: 100 ppt of Lazy, 100 ppt of Lack o' Time, and 800 ppt of--what is known in the scientific community as--Lack o' Smarts.
The buzz, so says trusty old Rediff, is this:
So somebody has started a movement to bring all Muslim religious and political groups in India under one platform. Uh-oh...I mean, that's nice.
Further note that the conference is being attended by over 300 top Muslim clerics and religious heads, who will discuss educational reforms, among other things.
Religious heads are getting together to discuss education. What me worry? What could go wrong?
The convenor of this conference is Mr. Syed Ahmed Bukhari, who is the Shahi Imam of Jama Masjid and a top-ranking PITA (qv). Quite a likable man. I do not speak from experience, only hearsay. I have met many people who have never met him who say he's nice.
As you can see, a co-convenor of the conference said, "Our goal is to meet leaders of all political parties and to seek their support for removing economic and educational backwardness of minorities."
Doublespeak usually requires translation. So, helpfully for all concerned, I have provided a translation.
Original Sentence:
Our goal is to meet leaders of all political parties and to seek their support for removing economic and educational backwardness of minorities.
Watch for it...watch the red queen...here it comes...is it the Muslim League, seems logical...round and round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows...is it the principle-peddling, two-timing Commies, maybe...
No, ladies and gentlemen, the party that resoundingly voted to maintain Family Waqf and uphold Islamic law was the ever secular Indian National Congress. Old habits die hard, eh?
Back to the conference. Let's look at some of the items on the agenda.
(1) Common goal of launching a joint movement for minorities' rights.
Why am I not johnny on the spot with current affairs and stuff? My excuse: 100 ppt of Lazy, 100 ppt of Lack o' Time, and 800 ppt of--what is known in the scientific community as--Lack o' Smarts.
The buzz, so says trusty old Rediff, is this:
Shahi Imam of Jama Masjid Syed Ahmed Bukhari has intiated a move to bring all Muslim religious and political groups under one platform to evolve a joint strategy for social, economic and educational uplift of the minorities.
The Imam has convened a National Conference of Muslims in New Delhi on Saturday, which is being attended by over 300 top Muslim clerics, scholars and religious heads. They will discuss ways and means to form a confederation that will take care of socio-economic problems of 160 million Muslims.
Hurriyat Conference chairman Moulvi Omer Farooq will also be present at the conference. He is expected to present his views on the current political scenario in Jammu and Kashmir.
Jamait-Ulemai Hind chief Maulana Arshad Madni, vice-president of Jamaat Islami Professir Munis Shafi, general secretary of Majlis Mushwarat Maulana Ameeduzaman Kairinavi, top Islamic scholar Sheikh Abu-Baker Qadri, Bharti Majlis chief Jaweed Habib and Maulana Fazul-Qasmi will attend the day-long meet to iron out differences and work towards the common goal of launching a joint movement for minorities' rights, Syed Ahmed Bukhari said.
"Our goal is to meet leaders of all political parties and to seek their support for removing economic and educational backwardness of minorities. For the past 59 years, nothing concrete has been done in this regard," Qari Mian Mohammed Mazhari and Chaudhry Rahat, co-convenors of the Conference said.
They said that a 10-point agenda has been circulated to the delegates, which would be the main focus of the deliberation.
This includes compensation for Gujarat riots, Constitutional amendment for restoring minority status of the Aligarh Muslim University and resolution of the Kashmir issue through dialogue.
Former cabinet secretary Zafar Saifullah, former union minister C M Ibrahim and Qazi of Kanpur Qari Abdul Sami will present their views on educational problems of the community.
Further note that the conference is being attended by over 300 top Muslim clerics and religious heads, who will discuss educational reforms, among other things.
Religious heads are getting together to discuss education. What me worry? What could go wrong?
The convenor of this conference is Mr. Syed Ahmed Bukhari, who is the Shahi Imam of Jama Masjid and a top-ranking PITA (qv). Quite a likable man. I do not speak from experience, only hearsay. I have met many people who have never met him who say he's nice.
As you can see, a co-convenor of the conference said, "Our goal is to meet leaders of all political parties and to seek their support for removing economic and educational backwardness of minorities."
Doublespeak usually requires translation. So, helpfully for all concerned, I have provided a translation.
Original Sentence:
Our goal is to meet leaders of all political parties and to seek their support for removing economic and educational backwardness of minorities.
Translation:
Of late, it has come to our notice that we haven't nearly been pampered enough by this stupid fucking country... beg pardon, by the rest of India. We already have our own personal laws, such as they are. We get nice sops once in a while like the Hajj subsidy which the rest of India--which means mostly the foolish Hindus--finance with their ill-gotten income and such. But we have noticed that we are still poor and backward. So is a majority of the Hindus, but so what? Shut up and pay attention.
So we are poor. Conveniently, we are also Muslim. Best of all, we are Indian Muslims. And now that one of the most divisive political parties that India has had the misfortune to be saddled with is in power --a party whose kiss-spittle still remains on our behinds--we feel that the time is right to ask for our pound of flesh.
I have a question. Why the fuck do they need handouts again? What about the money in the more than 300,000 Waqfs held throughout India? Isn't that supposed to be for the welfare of poor, needy Muslims? Oh wait, I forgot. In India, a Waqf can be a Family Waqf, which is not really a Waqf, but an umbrella.
Briefly, a Waqf is an inalienable endowment for a philanthropic cause such as a school, or a mosque, or an orphanage. Like a trust. In a Family Waqf, or Waqf Al Aulad (yes, that's really the name), the philanthropic cause is your family. My understanding is that if you are fortunate enough to be simultaneously Muslim, rich, and living in India, you can designate your property as Waqf property and designate your heir as the trustee. In general, property designated as Waqf does not form part of your estate, so no estate duties. No capital gains on assets sold. Sweet. Quite naturally, Waqf applies to Muslims only, it being a part of Muslim personal law. Hindus get no such free rides.
Any proposal to modify the Waqf laws meets with resistance in India, because it is seen as an attempt to meddle with Muslim personal law.
This personal law thing is sweet. Hmmm...hey you Indian government, fuck it, I want a personal law too. I've changed my mind. I don't care about all that Uniform Civil Code song and dance amy more, I want my own personal law. Within three business days.
Here is an interesting bit of news for those who like to think of the British as the sole engineers who created this divide between Hindus and Muslims (as if they needed one). The Privy Council that governed India post 1857 ruled to abolish the Family Waqf. It would appear that the system of Family Waqf struck even the greedy, money-grubbing bastards of the Privy Council as slightly inequitable. But a particular Indian political party actually protested and asked that the Waqf laws be left as they are.
Which political party, you ask?
Of late, it has come to our notice that we haven't nearly been pampered enough by this stupid fucking country... beg pardon, by the rest of India. We already have our own personal laws, such as they are. We get nice sops once in a while like the Hajj subsidy which the rest of India--which means mostly the foolish Hindus--finance with their ill-gotten income and such. But we have noticed that we are still poor and backward. So is a majority of the Hindus, but so what? Shut up and pay attention.
So we are poor. Conveniently, we are also Muslim. Best of all, we are Indian Muslims. And now that one of the most divisive political parties that India has had the misfortune to be saddled with is in power --a party whose kiss-spittle still remains on our behinds--we feel that the time is right to ask for our pound of flesh.
I have a question. Why the fuck do they need handouts again? What about the money in the more than 300,000 Waqfs held throughout India? Isn't that supposed to be for the welfare of poor, needy Muslims? Oh wait, I forgot. In India, a Waqf can be a Family Waqf, which is not really a Waqf, but an umbrella.
Briefly, a Waqf is an inalienable endowment for a philanthropic cause such as a school, or a mosque, or an orphanage. Like a trust. In a Family Waqf, or Waqf Al Aulad (yes, that's really the name), the philanthropic cause is your family. My understanding is that if you are fortunate enough to be simultaneously Muslim, rich, and living in India, you can designate your property as Waqf property and designate your heir as the trustee. In general, property designated as Waqf does not form part of your estate, so no estate duties. No capital gains on assets sold. Sweet. Quite naturally, Waqf applies to Muslims only, it being a part of Muslim personal law. Hindus get no such free rides.
Any proposal to modify the Waqf laws meets with resistance in India, because it is seen as an attempt to meddle with Muslim personal law.
This personal law thing is sweet. Hmmm...hey you Indian government, fuck it, I want a personal law too. I've changed my mind. I don't care about all that Uniform Civil Code song and dance amy more, I want my own personal law. Within three business days.
Here is an interesting bit of news for those who like to think of the British as the sole engineers who created this divide between Hindus and Muslims (as if they needed one). The Privy Council that governed India post 1857 ruled to abolish the Family Waqf. It would appear that the system of Family Waqf struck even the greedy, money-grubbing bastards of the Privy Council as slightly inequitable. But a particular Indian political party actually protested and asked that the Waqf laws be left as they are.
Which political party, you ask?
**Shuffles cards for shell game**
Watch for it...watch the red queen...here it comes...is it the Muslim League, seems logical...round and round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows...is it the principle-peddling, two-timing Commies, maybe...
No, ladies and gentlemen, the party that resoundingly voted to maintain Family Waqf and uphold Islamic law was the ever secular Indian National Congress. Old habits die hard, eh?
Back to the conference. Let's look at some of the items on the agenda.
(1) Common goal of launching a joint movement for minorities' rights.
Somebody reading this please tell me what rights Muslims do not have in India.
(2) Constitutional amendment for restoring minority status of the Aligarh Muslim University.
(2) Constitutional amendment for restoring minority status of the Aligarh Muslim University.
Yes, especially the lucrative rider that gives 50 percent reservation to Muslims.
(3) Resolution of the Kashmir issue through dialogue.
(3) Resolution of the Kashmir issue through dialogue.
How will the Kashmir issue uplift Muslims? While I agree that it will in general be a blessing when the Kashmir issue is solved, I don't see the relevance of this particular topic in such a meeting. Well, maybe its a filler, to be discussed at leisure over biriyani and kababs.
Glossary of Terms
PITA: Pain In The Ass
Glossary of Terms
PITA: Pain In The Ass
Varanasi Blasts
Recent events bring one fact home. Indian newspapers are uncommonly interested in international news. I have noticed, for example, that Indian newspapers fall all over themselves to report sixty Europeans getting plastered all over the subway. They report this from several angles for several days. They fret and brood over it.
As an interesting study in contrast, navigate to the UK Guardian's front page today, one day after the Varanasi explosions. Or the Times Online. They are just such a bundle of agony right now about twenty vaporized Indians, it will touch your heart.
I know that you are simply looking after your own, Europe. I understand self-interest, and I wish most Indians did. But notwithstanding, here it is one more time. Europe, I may never see the day. But I hope my great-grandchildren see you raising your behinds skywards five times a day and blubbering before Allah, the most merciful. Actually, it occurs to me that my great-grandchildren will probably be doing the same. So THAT'S a wash.
And a gentle note to the average Indian journalist: Here's a quarter, go buy yourself a fucking clue.
I mean...It. Has. Been. Five. Thousand. Years, people.
You and yours have been colonized, brutalized, sodomized, pulverized, and partitioned. Often by the very same people whom you reserve your angst for.
Still no clue.
Even a completely vapid moron gets it after a few tries. But not you.
Collective racial memory: Zero.
Here's one idea for you: Self-respect. There are machines today that will eat for you, breathe for you, and defecate for you. But no machine has yet been built that will instill a sense of self. Gotta do this on your own time.
Creature of a strange stripe indeed is the Indian journalist. A creature ruled by a few simple equations.
Graham Staines = News.
Sixty dead Europeans = News.
A few unfortunate Indians = News, but not if there's a bloody cricket match on!
What can I say? I'm running low here, people. Someone help me out.
On the positive side: The Daily Pioneer is covering the story well. People tell me that it is a right wing paper. If this is right wing hatemongering, India needs more of it. May their tribe increase. Also, again, just for the contrast, check out the front page of Outlook Magazine Online, a left wing paper. It is difficult to believe that both newspapers share the same inertial frame of reference.
Surprisingly, The Times of India (link not provided for your own safety) has not lost interest yet and is covering the story better than usual. The age of miracles is not over.
As an interesting study in contrast, navigate to the UK Guardian's front page today, one day after the Varanasi explosions. Or the Times Online. They are just such a bundle of agony right now about twenty vaporized Indians, it will touch your heart.
I know that you are simply looking after your own, Europe. I understand self-interest, and I wish most Indians did. But notwithstanding, here it is one more time. Europe, I may never see the day. But I hope my great-grandchildren see you raising your behinds skywards five times a day and blubbering before Allah, the most merciful. Actually, it occurs to me that my great-grandchildren will probably be doing the same. So THAT'S a wash.
And a gentle note to the average Indian journalist: Here's a quarter, go buy yourself a fucking clue.
I mean...It. Has. Been. Five. Thousand. Years, people.
You and yours have been colonized, brutalized, sodomized, pulverized, and partitioned. Often by the very same people whom you reserve your angst for.
Still no clue.
Even a completely vapid moron gets it after a few tries. But not you.
Collective racial memory: Zero.
Here's one idea for you: Self-respect. There are machines today that will eat for you, breathe for you, and defecate for you. But no machine has yet been built that will instill a sense of self. Gotta do this on your own time.
Creature of a strange stripe indeed is the Indian journalist. A creature ruled by a few simple equations.
Graham Staines = News.
Sixty dead Europeans = News.
A few unfortunate Indians = News, but not if there's a bloody cricket match on!
What can I say? I'm running low here, people. Someone help me out.
On the positive side: The Daily Pioneer is covering the story well. People tell me that it is a right wing paper. If this is right wing hatemongering, India needs more of it. May their tribe increase. Also, again, just for the contrast, check out the front page of Outlook Magazine Online, a left wing paper. It is difficult to believe that both newspapers share the same inertial frame of reference.
Surprisingly, The Times of India (link not provided for your own safety) has not lost interest yet and is covering the story better than usual. The age of miracles is not over.
Twenny More
Something went boom and twenny little Indians went splat. Yesterday. In Varanasi. Near a temple. No one knows who did it. Though many have a good idea. But no one can be sure. Maybe they blew themselves up by accident. Indians have a habit of doing that. Careless lot.
No need to get angry. It creates communal tension. That's what Pakistan wants. Here's an idea. Let us create a boom in Islamabad. Near a mosque. And create some communal tension in Pakistan. But wait, you need at least two communities to create communal tension. Pakistan has only one. Ha, ha. Those clever Pakis.
The world condemned the boom-and-splat. Not the real world. You know...the pretend one.
What's the cricket score?
No need to get angry. It creates communal tension. That's what Pakistan wants. Here's an idea. Let us create a boom in Islamabad. Near a mosque. And create some communal tension in Pakistan. But wait, you need at least two communities to create communal tension. Pakistan has only one. Ha, ha. Those clever Pakis.
The world condemned the boom-and-splat. Not the real world. You know...the pretend one.
What's the cricket score?
Journey
What is it that wires our brains so that certain songs suck the air out of us? Why does some song by Journey suddenly remind me of somebody? Why not Baby Got Back?
Well, I'm glad I asked. Here's an ontological view of this.
There is this hypothesis that psychologists call the neural correlate of content experience. Certainly a mouthful, but the idea is simple. Every emotion--love, anger, hate--corresponds to an unique neurological configuration inside your brain. So a state of mind is really a state of the brain. If you identify yourself philosophically as a materialist, this point of view should seem natural to you, i.e. mind is really matter. They are not distinct.
It follows that every state of mind--which an emotion really is--can be ultimately reduced to and described in terms of matter, because every state of mind or emotion has a direct neural correlate.
All the neural correlates taken together forms the neural correlate of consciousness. It defines, in a definite structural and material fashion, what you think of as your conscious mind.
Electrochemical disturbances. That's all there is to it. Every emotion someone feels, every stupid fucking emotion that anyone has ever felt, is nothing but a sublime, subtle, electrochemical dance inside the head. Boo-ya.
Have we found the neural correlates yet? I believe we are trying.
Many disciplines have a central problem. Physicists face the problem of reconciling general relativity with quantum mechanics. The Holy Grail for physicists is the union of the world of the gargantuan with the world of the microscopic under one Unified Law.
Similarly, a central problem in psychology is finding and mapping the neural correlates. Much as we have mapped the human genome, I suppose it will be a day of triumph for psychology when every human emotion is mapped and formulated into balanced valence equations. Equations of love, hate, faith, loyalty. Equations that solve for sudden liking. Equations that solve for chronic dislike.
I wish them luck and god speed. Find them correlates. Map them correlates.
And then just give us the fucking antidotes.
Well, I'm glad I asked. Here's an ontological view of this.
There is this hypothesis that psychologists call the neural correlate of content experience. Certainly a mouthful, but the idea is simple. Every emotion--love, anger, hate--corresponds to an unique neurological configuration inside your brain. So a state of mind is really a state of the brain. If you identify yourself philosophically as a materialist, this point of view should seem natural to you, i.e. mind is really matter. They are not distinct.
It follows that every state of mind--which an emotion really is--can be ultimately reduced to and described in terms of matter, because every state of mind or emotion has a direct neural correlate.
All the neural correlates taken together forms the neural correlate of consciousness. It defines, in a definite structural and material fashion, what you think of as your conscious mind.
Electrochemical disturbances. That's all there is to it. Every emotion someone feels, every stupid fucking emotion that anyone has ever felt, is nothing but a sublime, subtle, electrochemical dance inside the head. Boo-ya.
Have we found the neural correlates yet? I believe we are trying.
Many disciplines have a central problem. Physicists face the problem of reconciling general relativity with quantum mechanics. The Holy Grail for physicists is the union of the world of the gargantuan with the world of the microscopic under one Unified Law.
Similarly, a central problem in psychology is finding and mapping the neural correlates. Much as we have mapped the human genome, I suppose it will be a day of triumph for psychology when every human emotion is mapped and formulated into balanced valence equations. Equations of love, hate, faith, loyalty. Equations that solve for sudden liking. Equations that solve for chronic dislike.
I wish them luck and god speed. Find them correlates. Map them correlates.
And then just give us the fucking antidotes.
A Very Long Rant
Our world is fast succumbing to the activities of men and women who would stake the future of our species on beliefs that should not survive an elementary school education.
-- Sam Harris, The End of Faith
D commented that there's nothing in my blog about Mohammed's caricatures. I guess one of the reasons is that I don't really give much one way or the other. But okay, I'll bite.
Here's a story.
Let's say you work for a medium-sized company called SlaevDryver. Things are chugging along nicely, times are good, and the company is seeing a lot of work. Since you're hiring, you hire this new guy by the name of--now, let's see if I can come up with a suitably vague, culture-neutral name that won't offend anybody...I got it--Abdullah.
You hire Abdullah after a diligent interview. Abdullah does nicely in the interview and seems otherwise competent. Then comes the orientation on Monday.
Your team trudges into the big conference room by the elevator and after some general bitching and moaning about how your respective weekends went, you turn to Abdullah for introductions. Abdullah gets up, clears his throat a bit, and says:
Abdullah: Hi, I'm Abdullah Rahmatullah ibn Mohammed. For those of you who're blinking, I also answer to Al.
Chorus: Hi Al.
Al: It's so nice to be working here. It's always been my dream to work for SlaevDryver. To give you a brief sketch of what I've been up to, career-wise...well, after graduation, I worked for Duzntpae-Well for ten years as Senior Software Dude, before upping and moving to the Midwest to work for a further five years in So-u-wanna-rayz in the capacity of Very Senior Guy Who Does Mysterious Stuff. And now here I am.
Chorus: Welcome, Al.
Al: Thanks.
Chorus: Sure.
So all of you get up to leave and schlep on back to your desks to indulge in a couple of hours of the Mandatory Monday Morning Zone Out. Al clears his throat again. You look at him curiously.
Al: Guys, just one more thing. I have a request, and I want you to bear this in mind very well. I'm generally a nice sort of guy but you should never, NEVER, ever, use the words "Great Bearded One-eyed Mooh-Daddy" in any sort of writing to me. Never, ever, because it goes against certain deeply held beliefs that I have which prohibits using those words in that order in writing. You can say it out loud, but you can never write it. Anybody who uses this sacred phrase in any sort of writing commits blasphemy and insults my beliefs. So please, just don't do it, okay. I cannot stress this enough.
Now of course, this strikes some of you as very strange, but most of you are like, "Yeah whatever, dude. Just don't drink all the coffee and hog the refridgerator shelves, okay. Remember to clean out your shit once a week."
So time goes by and Al seems to be doing all right at work. He's considered a little strange because five times a day, he lies on his stomach on the carpet in his cubicle, circles his arms and his legs in a swimming motion and chants in a sing-song voice. It appears to be a strange form of worship involving "Mooh-daddy".
Now, some people are a little annoyed at this because the chants can get a little loud at times. But then again, most of you just chalk it up to harmless eccentricity. And besides, as you like to point out to the annoyed people, Al is at least doing his worship-thing in the privacy of his own cubicle and also, he's quite good at his work. So leave him be, you say.
There is also this incident at work when someone, just to see if Al was serious about the Mooh-daddy thing, sends him an e-mail that says: Hey Al, remember that time when you said that we shouldn't mention Great Bearded One-eyed Mooh-Daddy, so were you, like, serious, dude?
Five minutes later, Al is at the sender's desk, red in the face and foaming at the mouth, yelling, "I told you not to write that, I told you. Blasphemy! I demand an unconditional apology, Sir. I demand satisfaction."
He calms down only after the co-worker apologizes humbly and profusely. You guys pretty much don't go there ever again, because for chrissakes, this guy seems serious about this blasphemy business.
Some more time passes, and somehow, there seems to be this growing bunch of people who are a little ticked off at Al. Part of the reason, you overhear at work one day, is this. Apparently a colleague who was invited to dinner at Al's house a few times got the impression that Al's domestic arrangements are a little, umm...shady. It almost appears that Al has more than one wife! Either that, or he's trafficking. Now most of you guys, being what you are, are not really disturbed by this news. You are more like, "Way to go Al. Monogamy is for wimps. Rock on." But for some unexplained reason, the women at work see this differently.
Women! Who'll ever understand them, eh?
Gradually, more tidbits about Al's other life start floating in. You have a hard time sorting out the truth from the hatemongering, but here's what people say. Al is a wife-batterer. He is rumored to have gotten into a brawl at his local pub over his religion. It was all sorted out in the end and everybody shook hands, but still.
Most disturbing of all however is the strong rumor that Al and a bunch of his bullyboy friends apparently tried to convert a sixteen year old boy into Al's cult, and when the boy refused, severely beat him up and broke his arms. The police almost got involved, but backed off later because it now appears that these cultists are a sizable population in your town and more violence may follow if Al and his buddies are pulled up over this.
The more liberal among those of you at work still take the following position: Al's personal business is his personal business. He's never slipped up at work, and that's what matters. Besides, most of the stuff about him are rumors anyway. So just leave him be.
Everybody is not so liberal though, and so one day some jokers at work get together and decide to pull a nasty on Al. They know that a particular phrase pisses off Al real good, so they decide to paint a big banner in red with the dreaded phrase on it and hang it on the bulletin board in front of Al's cubicle over the weekend, so that it's the first thing that Al sees on Monday morning.
Al does see it, and what follows is quite predictable and unpleasant.
Now my question to you is this. Let's say that you indeed worked at this hypothetical company. Where would you fall on this issue? Would you side with Al, because he was deliberately and needlessly provoked. OR, would you side with the jokers, because they were completely within their rights to put up a banner, and besides, Al seems such a mental sort outside of work, anyway.
How you answer that question might determine how you will vote on this caricature issue, because the situation described above is analogous to the caricature deal. And if you don't see the analogy, then either I don't communicate well, or you don't have any imagination. I am, for obvious reasons, inclined to believe the latter. Kidding, kidding.
Anyway, while you mull that question over, let me say this.
No one will argue against the fact that dear Al is irrational in his beliefs. It is quite irrational to get upset over the breach of a nonsensical convention. Most people would agree that if somebody really behaved like Al at a workplace, he would shortly be given an official letter asking him to seek alternate employment, most likely followed by some unofficial advice to spend a little time with a mental health professional.
At the same time, the jokers at work deliberately chose to be insensitive to Al's irrationality. So (and I'm sorry to switch horses on you) here's the real question: Just how sensitive should someone be towards irrationality?
And I would request you to answer that very carefully, unless of course, you claim complete exemption from irrationality.
Here's what I would say. And let me put it in the form of two rules.
(A) If one person's irrational belief does not interfere with your own designs in any way, it is the path of least resistance to be tolerant of it.
(B) Quite naturally, the opposite also applies, i.e. if a person's irrational belief encroaches on your freedoms--even a little--oppose it by all means available.
As an example of Rule A, consider that I, an atheist, am tolerant of your rather harmless belief in God, because the alternative is to call you delusional and lose a friend. Yes, yes, it's a compromise. The same applies to you. You are tolerant of my non-belief (I hope) because the alternative is to...you get the idea.
This is another example of Rule A with respect to Muslims. Muslims consider the representation of their prophet in a visual medium to be blasphemy. As a non-Muslim, I am not particularly disturbed by this because it is a convention that I would have no trouble following. It's not like I just love to draw pictures of a bearded, long-dead Arab businessman every day, and bite back tears if deprived of this right.
On the other hand, if a Muslim insisted that I not eat pork in front of him because it offends him, I would apply Rule B and ask him to go make tender love to a camel.
Note: If a Muslim asked me to stop eating pork in front of him in an officially Islamic country, I would say, "Yes, Sir. Where's the nearest trashcan, Sir?" Keeping that in mind, here's a thought for all the fucking head-in-the-asses pseudo-liberals of this world. This is why you should never, ever let your respective countries go Islamic, you clueless fuck-all morons. If for nothing, at least for the privilege of eating pork in public. Islam is a one-way street, you confused cretins, and if you don't get that, may Allah grant you mercy.
To take much license with Will Durant: Civilization is a precious good and guard it as such, you sainted idiots; don't sell it for tuppence and a fucking song.
Sorry, I had to get that out of my system. I'll come back to the topic at hand. So this is where I stand. Everybody has a right to free speech, and everybody has a right to be offended. So it follows that the Muslims are right to be offended. But they do not have to right to be violent because that infringes on another's right to remain unharmed.
Note that it is very hard for me to say that Muslims have a right to be offended because in general, I find it very hard to be sympathetic to any Muslim cause. Given the near-history of my country, it's difficult for me to be otherwise. There is also another reason. I am turned off by revealed theology of any kind in general, but even among rotten ideas, there are some that are more rotten than others. Islam ranks among my least favourite philosophies. If somebody came up with a painless and quick scheme to reverse the brain-washing that one billion people on Earth have been subjected to since 626 A.D, I would fund it.
Okay, okay, so maybe I ask for too much when I ask for both painless and quick. Let me downsize my expectations. I'll settle for quick.
But I grudgingly admit that Muslims have the right to be offended over the Danish cartoons.
The Danes of course have a right to free speech and are quite right in publishing the cartoons. But broadly speaking, I don't see how upholding your freedom of speech will make a difference in the long run if your country is poised to become majority Islamic in the not too distant future anyway, as some demographers say it will.
This is my problem with the European countries: They make all these noises about freedom of speech and corruption of cultural values, but don't do anything fundamental to prevent Islamic influence on their precious culture. France outlaws headscarves, Danes paint the prophet, but tell me this: Has France limited Muslim immigration? What about Denmark? Nope. France, at least, needs the labour. So all this talk of freedom of speech is just so much irrelevant hogwash, if you ask me. Why polish brass on a sinking ship?
I have to pause here and say this. What the fuck am I writing? I am actually defending something that I wouldn't defend if paid a salary for it. It's like I'm stuck in this surreal nightmare that I can't shake myself awake from.
Disclaimer: I am categorically not arguing for or against limiting of Muslim immigration into European countries. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less. The only two countries that concern me at the moment are India and the United States. Europe's problems are Europe's problems. I don't care if fifty years from now, the Danes are all wearing skullcaps and raising their asses to the sky five times a day in deference to an imaginary Sky-Poppa.
All said and done, an average European doesn't give two fucks about an average Asian, and I reciprocate that sentiment doubly. This callousness has been demonstrated many times before , and most recently when everybody went batshit about 57 deaths in London and precious few eyebrows were raised when 60 people got splattered over the pavement in Delhi shortly afterwards. Yes Europe, cry copious tears for us, and make it convincing, if you expect tears and sympathy from us.
Here's my personal note to Europe and its near-unconscious racism: Sink or swim, it's your problem. In a perverse and ultimately self-destructive way, I almost hope that you grovel before the Muslims.
Gradually, more tidbits about Al's other life start floating in. You have a hard time sorting out the truth from the hatemongering, but here's what people say. Al is a wife-batterer. He is rumored to have gotten into a brawl at his local pub over his religion. It was all sorted out in the end and everybody shook hands, but still.
Most disturbing of all however is the strong rumor that Al and a bunch of his bullyboy friends apparently tried to convert a sixteen year old boy into Al's cult, and when the boy refused, severely beat him up and broke his arms. The police almost got involved, but backed off later because it now appears that these cultists are a sizable population in your town and more violence may follow if Al and his buddies are pulled up over this.
The more liberal among those of you at work still take the following position: Al's personal business is his personal business. He's never slipped up at work, and that's what matters. Besides, most of the stuff about him are rumors anyway. So just leave him be.
Everybody is not so liberal though, and so one day some jokers at work get together and decide to pull a nasty on Al. They know that a particular phrase pisses off Al real good, so they decide to paint a big banner in red with the dreaded phrase on it and hang it on the bulletin board in front of Al's cubicle over the weekend, so that it's the first thing that Al sees on Monday morning.
Al does see it, and what follows is quite predictable and unpleasant.
Now my question to you is this. Let's say that you indeed worked at this hypothetical company. Where would you fall on this issue? Would you side with Al, because he was deliberately and needlessly provoked. OR, would you side with the jokers, because they were completely within their rights to put up a banner, and besides, Al seems such a mental sort outside of work, anyway.
How you answer that question might determine how you will vote on this caricature issue, because the situation described above is analogous to the caricature deal. And if you don't see the analogy, then either I don't communicate well, or you don't have any imagination. I am, for obvious reasons, inclined to believe the latter. Kidding, kidding.
Anyway, while you mull that question over, let me say this.
No one will argue against the fact that dear Al is irrational in his beliefs. It is quite irrational to get upset over the breach of a nonsensical convention. Most people would agree that if somebody really behaved like Al at a workplace, he would shortly be given an official letter asking him to seek alternate employment, most likely followed by some unofficial advice to spend a little time with a mental health professional.
At the same time, the jokers at work deliberately chose to be insensitive to Al's irrationality. So (and I'm sorry to switch horses on you) here's the real question: Just how sensitive should someone be towards irrationality?
And I would request you to answer that very carefully, unless of course, you claim complete exemption from irrationality.
Here's what I would say. And let me put it in the form of two rules.
(A) If one person's irrational belief does not interfere with your own designs in any way, it is the path of least resistance to be tolerant of it.
(B) Quite naturally, the opposite also applies, i.e. if a person's irrational belief encroaches on your freedoms--even a little--oppose it by all means available.
As an example of Rule A, consider that I, an atheist, am tolerant of your rather harmless belief in God, because the alternative is to call you delusional and lose a friend. Yes, yes, it's a compromise. The same applies to you. You are tolerant of my non-belief (I hope) because the alternative is to...you get the idea.
This is another example of Rule A with respect to Muslims. Muslims consider the representation of their prophet in a visual medium to be blasphemy. As a non-Muslim, I am not particularly disturbed by this because it is a convention that I would have no trouble following. It's not like I just love to draw pictures of a bearded, long-dead Arab businessman every day, and bite back tears if deprived of this right.
On the other hand, if a Muslim insisted that I not eat pork in front of him because it offends him, I would apply Rule B and ask him to go make tender love to a camel.
Note: If a Muslim asked me to stop eating pork in front of him in an officially Islamic country, I would say, "Yes, Sir. Where's the nearest trashcan, Sir?" Keeping that in mind, here's a thought for all the fucking head-in-the-asses pseudo-liberals of this world. This is why you should never, ever let your respective countries go Islamic, you clueless fuck-all morons. If for nothing, at least for the privilege of eating pork in public. Islam is a one-way street, you confused cretins, and if you don't get that, may Allah grant you mercy.
To take much license with Will Durant: Civilization is a precious good and guard it as such, you sainted idiots; don't sell it for tuppence and a fucking song.
Sorry, I had to get that out of my system. I'll come back to the topic at hand. So this is where I stand. Everybody has a right to free speech, and everybody has a right to be offended. So it follows that the Muslims are right to be offended. But they do not have to right to be violent because that infringes on another's right to remain unharmed.
Note that it is very hard for me to say that Muslims have a right to be offended because in general, I find it very hard to be sympathetic to any Muslim cause. Given the near-history of my country, it's difficult for me to be otherwise. There is also another reason. I am turned off by revealed theology of any kind in general, but even among rotten ideas, there are some that are more rotten than others. Islam ranks among my least favourite philosophies. If somebody came up with a painless and quick scheme to reverse the brain-washing that one billion people on Earth have been subjected to since 626 A.D, I would fund it.
Okay, okay, so maybe I ask for too much when I ask for both painless and quick. Let me downsize my expectations. I'll settle for quick.
But I grudgingly admit that Muslims have the right to be offended over the Danish cartoons.
The Danes of course have a right to free speech and are quite right in publishing the cartoons. But broadly speaking, I don't see how upholding your freedom of speech will make a difference in the long run if your country is poised to become majority Islamic in the not too distant future anyway, as some demographers say it will.
This is my problem with the European countries: They make all these noises about freedom of speech and corruption of cultural values, but don't do anything fundamental to prevent Islamic influence on their precious culture. France outlaws headscarves, Danes paint the prophet, but tell me this: Has France limited Muslim immigration? What about Denmark? Nope. France, at least, needs the labour. So all this talk of freedom of speech is just so much irrelevant hogwash, if you ask me. Why polish brass on a sinking ship?
I have to pause here and say this. What the fuck am I writing? I am actually defending something that I wouldn't defend if paid a salary for it. It's like I'm stuck in this surreal nightmare that I can't shake myself awake from.
Disclaimer: I am categorically not arguing for or against limiting of Muslim immigration into European countries. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less. The only two countries that concern me at the moment are India and the United States. Europe's problems are Europe's problems. I don't care if fifty years from now, the Danes are all wearing skullcaps and raising their asses to the sky five times a day in deference to an imaginary Sky-Poppa.
All said and done, an average European doesn't give two fucks about an average Asian, and I reciprocate that sentiment doubly. This callousness has been demonstrated many times before , and most recently when everybody went batshit about 57 deaths in London and precious few eyebrows were raised when 60 people got splattered over the pavement in Delhi shortly afterwards. Yes Europe, cry copious tears for us, and make it convincing, if you expect tears and sympathy from us.
Here's my personal note to Europe and its near-unconscious racism: Sink or swim, it's your problem. In a perverse and ultimately self-destructive way, I almost hope that you grovel before the Muslims.
Some Answers
Rob's cheesy, nosy questions and my corny answers. Rob's questions are in blue italics.
1) When you think of someone, what pushes your "wow" buttons? In other words, is there a "type" or "types" that you go for? Are you an "eyes" person, one who goes for the artistic type, or rough around the edges? (This is a gender-neutral question, I think.)
She's got to have a backbone. I don't go for f***ing invertebrates. A proud, straight back with a spine is a bare minimum requirement. Everything else is negotiable.
2) Name something about the people you work with that pushes your "That really pisses me off" button. (Okay, be careful, cuz you never know who may read this. If in doubt, substitute a "people in general" response.)
There's really only one kind of person I hate at work--the clueless boss.
I have consistently hated working for stupid people. Some people have the idea that working for a dumbass is a good thing, cuz you don't have to sweat it much and can get by in slipshod fashion. The response is that someone who is incapable of recognizing shoddy work will also be incapable of recognizing good work. Work for a dunce, and you can kiss any hope of professional recognition and job satisfaction goodbye.
There's another problem. Quite often you find that your professional future is tied to your supervisor's. Especially if you have long-term commitments to a company. Some people will find what I just said counter-intuitive and argue against this. After all, if your boss is an imbecile and you don't do too badly, you will actually shine by contrast and be noticed, right?
Not so. A number of workplaces have strict, inflexible power hierarchies where the careers of workers and supervisors move in lockstep. If your boss is a bottom-feeder, chances are that you won't be seeing sunlight very soon either. In reality, you often have to work harder to get promoted past a bad boss.
3) 4) and 5) If you could have three wishes what would they be? (Difficulty- No "world peace and puppies for everyone" wishes. Let's be realistic about our unrealism, shall we?)
I'm going to say this very carefully and hope for some understanding, because what I am about to say will sound very strange and slightly coy.
I have no wishes.
It's not because I have everything--far from it. It's not because I'm some kind of hermit/recluse/nut-job--I'm perfectly social, amiable, and grounded. It's not because I suffer from bouts of fatalism--my professional life has been a steadily climbing graph, if I may say so myself. It's just that I have no wishes.
Please note that this is not some sort of bizarre cop out. It's just that whatever I put down as my three wishes in the space below will be lies. I'm not above lying, but I don't feel like doing it tonight.
Think of it this way, if you will.
What do I wish for? Several billion dollars? Why? So that I can stop working? But why would I want to stop working? I don't want to.
Wish for all the knowledge in the world, maybe? But what would I do with all the knowledge in the world? Because with all the knowledge in the world will also come the knowledge that there is no more to learn. That the pleasure of discovery is forever closed to me. Is that how I would define happiness?
Aside: Here's an interesting thought. Let's consider a guy who knows everything. Like the alleged God-dude, for instance. Don't you think that if there really is an All-Knowing dude out there, the man is cursed, not blessed. For surely with all the knowledge in the universe must come all the sadness in the universe. For surely with omnipotence and omniscience must come incredible, crushing loneliness. And perhaps grinding boredom. If there is a God, I humbly put forth the idea that I believe He needs us more than we need Him. Verily have I spoken.
I do not have wishes. I have looked inside and I have drawn a blank. I do not say this with any sense of fatalism or resignation, I'm just making a bald, plain statement. With approximately the same passion I would put into noting the fact that the sun is hot.
I cannot convince you of this--it just occurred to me that I don't have the language--and I'm not going to try.
6) SuperBowl- Did the Steelers win outright, or did the Seahawks just lose an otherwise winnable game? (Sougata gets a pass on this, being a godless heathen and a ferriner to boot..)
1) When you think of someone, what pushes your "wow" buttons? In other words, is there a "type" or "types" that you go for? Are you an "eyes" person, one who goes for the artistic type, or rough around the edges? (This is a gender-neutral question, I think.)
She's got to have a backbone. I don't go for f***ing invertebrates. A proud, straight back with a spine is a bare minimum requirement. Everything else is negotiable.
2) Name something about the people you work with that pushes your "That really pisses me off" button. (Okay, be careful, cuz you never know who may read this. If in doubt, substitute a "people in general" response.)
There's really only one kind of person I hate at work--the clueless boss.
I have consistently hated working for stupid people. Some people have the idea that working for a dumbass is a good thing, cuz you don't have to sweat it much and can get by in slipshod fashion. The response is that someone who is incapable of recognizing shoddy work will also be incapable of recognizing good work. Work for a dunce, and you can kiss any hope of professional recognition and job satisfaction goodbye.
There's another problem. Quite often you find that your professional future is tied to your supervisor's. Especially if you have long-term commitments to a company. Some people will find what I just said counter-intuitive and argue against this. After all, if your boss is an imbecile and you don't do too badly, you will actually shine by contrast and be noticed, right?
Not so. A number of workplaces have strict, inflexible power hierarchies where the careers of workers and supervisors move in lockstep. If your boss is a bottom-feeder, chances are that you won't be seeing sunlight very soon either. In reality, you often have to work harder to get promoted past a bad boss.
3) 4) and 5) If you could have three wishes what would they be? (Difficulty- No "world peace and puppies for everyone" wishes. Let's be realistic about our unrealism, shall we?)
I'm going to say this very carefully and hope for some understanding, because what I am about to say will sound very strange and slightly coy.
I have no wishes.
It's not because I have everything--far from it. It's not because I'm some kind of hermit/recluse/nut-job--I'm perfectly social, amiable, and grounded. It's not because I suffer from bouts of fatalism--my professional life has been a steadily climbing graph, if I may say so myself. It's just that I have no wishes.
Please note that this is not some sort of bizarre cop out. It's just that whatever I put down as my three wishes in the space below will be lies. I'm not above lying, but I don't feel like doing it tonight.
Think of it this way, if you will.
What do I wish for? Several billion dollars? Why? So that I can stop working? But why would I want to stop working? I don't want to.
Wish for all the knowledge in the world, maybe? But what would I do with all the knowledge in the world? Because with all the knowledge in the world will also come the knowledge that there is no more to learn. That the pleasure of discovery is forever closed to me. Is that how I would define happiness?
Aside: Here's an interesting thought. Let's consider a guy who knows everything. Like the alleged God-dude, for instance. Don't you think that if there really is an All-Knowing dude out there, the man is cursed, not blessed. For surely with all the knowledge in the universe must come all the sadness in the universe. For surely with omnipotence and omniscience must come incredible, crushing loneliness. And perhaps grinding boredom. If there is a God, I humbly put forth the idea that I believe He needs us more than we need Him. Verily have I spoken.
I do not have wishes. I have looked inside and I have drawn a blank. I do not say this with any sense of fatalism or resignation, I'm just making a bald, plain statement. With approximately the same passion I would put into noting the fact that the sun is hot.
I cannot convince you of this--it just occurred to me that I don't have the language--and I'm not going to try.
6) SuperBowl- Did the Steelers win outright, or did the Seahawks just lose an otherwise winnable game? (Sougata gets a pass on this, being a godless heathen and a ferriner to boot..)
Whew!
An Article in The Economic Times
For a good chuckle, please see the post Funny, not ha ha on Ashok's blog. Make sure that you follow the link and read the article in The Economic Times. It's funny.
Responses
The last post generated some interesting comments. I'm struggling for time because of a few things that need not detain us here, and hence response times may suffer. But here's a quick response to D. I figured that if I wait to write a more well-thought out response, I'll never get to it.
Babu (or rather, D),
I liked the distinction you drew between God and Truth. I also agree that the distinction between the two--for those who care about such things--is a little more than artificial.
In my humble but studied opinion, there are obvious problems with the popular notion of God.
Consider the following.
God, as the lore goes, is supposed to be this all-around good guy who, in spite of loving us to death, still somehow manages to be slightly vindictive and a tad insecure. His overarching message in a lot of holy books seems to be: "Rub me wrong way and all your base are belong to us."
Most empiricists, after a cursory glance at the world around them, find this notion of a basically good God to be cognitively dissonant.
Just one example of the inconsistency of the God-concept should serve: God, some maintain, is both Omnibenevolent and Omnipotent. Among other similarly grand things.
Omnibenevolence demands that God should display zero tolerance towards Evil and Suffering. Further, since God is also Omnipotent, enforcement of this zero-tolerance policy should be a snap for Him. God can either pre-empt Evil, or magically wink it out of existence if it does happen. No sweat.
Yet, even basic empirical observation tells us that there is tremendous Evil and Suffering in the world. Ergo, God cannot be simultaneously Omnibenevolent and Omnipotent. Evil could not exist if that were so.
The notion of a tri-omni God is problematic.
In stark contrast, the notion of the search for a Truth--whatever the attributes of this Truth--is a more pragmatic effort. IMHO. Indeed, science does this very thing, i.e. look for Truth by filling in the gaps in our knowledge. That is an easier train to get on, at least for me.
God is supposed to be all sugar and spice. He is painted as a prop-ah gentlemanly sort, and he is also supposed to be a touch concerned about us.
Babu (or rather, D),
I liked the distinction you drew between God and Truth. I also agree that the distinction between the two--for those who care about such things--is a little more than artificial.
In my humble but studied opinion, there are obvious problems with the popular notion of God.
Consider the following.
God, as the lore goes, is supposed to be this all-around good guy who, in spite of loving us to death, still somehow manages to be slightly vindictive and a tad insecure. His overarching message in a lot of holy books seems to be: "Rub me wrong way and all your base are belong to us."
Most empiricists, after a cursory glance at the world around them, find this notion of a basically good God to be cognitively dissonant.
Just one example of the inconsistency of the God-concept should serve: God, some maintain, is both Omnibenevolent and Omnipotent. Among other similarly grand things.
Omnibenevolence demands that God should display zero tolerance towards Evil and Suffering. Further, since God is also Omnipotent, enforcement of this zero-tolerance policy should be a snap for Him. God can either pre-empt Evil, or magically wink it out of existence if it does happen. No sweat.
Yet, even basic empirical observation tells us that there is tremendous Evil and Suffering in the world. Ergo, God cannot be simultaneously Omnibenevolent and Omnipotent. Evil could not exist if that were so.
The notion of a tri-omni God is problematic.
In stark contrast, the notion of the search for a Truth--whatever the attributes of this Truth--is a more pragmatic effort. IMHO. Indeed, science does this very thing, i.e. look for Truth by filling in the gaps in our knowledge. That is an easier train to get on, at least for me.
God is supposed to be all sugar and spice. He is painted as a prop-ah gentlemanly sort, and he is also supposed to be a touch concerned about us.
The Truth (TM) may not be any of those things.
The Truth (or Truths) may be a disinterested, barenaked, incurious force that gives two fucks about what attributes we assign to it.
It will likely not give a toss about whether we go to Church/Temple/Mosque regularly like a bunch of tranquilized, brainfucked zombies. Or whether we write pretty prose about It. Or what kind of meat we avoid eating in It's name.
Sougata.
Tom,
You have always had kind words to say about my posts/responses. Just wanted to acknowledge that.
Sougata.
The Truth (or Truths) may be a disinterested, barenaked, incurious force that gives two fucks about what attributes we assign to it.
It will likely not give a toss about whether we go to Church/Temple/Mosque regularly like a bunch of tranquilized, brainfucked zombies. Or whether we write pretty prose about It. Or what kind of meat we avoid eating in It's name.
Sougata.
Tom,
You have always had kind words to say about my posts/responses. Just wanted to acknowledge that.
Sougata.
Religious Tolerance -- Part I
Wise men say that you must always keep yourself busy. It keeps the devil away.
On the first day of the new year, I wasn't following that particular advice. Thus I was surfing the Great Big Network idly and came across this interesting web site called http://www.religioustolerance.org/, and, since I had nothing better to do, immediately took exception to something on the web site. Hey, some people take drugs, I take exceptions, awright?
Beforehand though, to be fair to the web site, it is pretty good for the most part and does attempt to take a balanced view of religion and rightly calls many of the the excesses committed in the name of religion. However, I found a little paragraph that intrigued me because it seemed to lack the balance shown by the rest of the web site. And still having nothing better to do, I wrote them a small email, which I reproduce here:
I am waiting for a response and hoping for an amendment to the paragraph in question. Also, if you agree with what I said in my email, care, and can be bothered, do write to them asking for a rewording, perhaps a little more politely than I have.
Coda: I have often wondered idly about the bad press that Hinduism gets. Even when the source is otherwise credible and reputable. Anybody with even a rudimentary sense of fairplay must wonder about this.
On the first day of the new year, I wasn't following that particular advice. Thus I was surfing the Great Big Network idly and came across this interesting web site called http://www.religioustolerance.org/, and, since I had nothing better to do, immediately took exception to something on the web site. Hey, some people take drugs, I take exceptions, awright?
Beforehand though, to be fair to the web site, it is pretty good for the most part and does attempt to take a balanced view of religion and rightly calls many of the the excesses committed in the name of religion. However, I found a little paragraph that intrigued me because it seemed to lack the balance shown by the rest of the web site. And still having nothing better to do, I wrote them a small email, which I reproduce here:
This excerpt is from your web site on the page http://www.religioustolerance.org/news_02mar.htm:
[Begin Excerpt]
During 1992, some Hindus burned down a 16th century mosque in the northern Indian town of Ayodhya. Their plan was to build a Hindu temple on the site, which is sacred to followers of both religions. This action has resulted in the occasional outburst of rioting. In 1993, Hindu-Muslim riots in Mumbai (formerly Bombay)caused the deaths of 800 people. On FEB-26, a group of Muslims attacked a train in the western state of Gujarat. It was filled with Hindu fundamentalists who were returning from a pilgrimage to Ayodhya. Fifty-eight died. This generated retaliation by Hindus: As of MAR-3, 499 people have died -- mostly Muslims. Many have been burned to death. By the middle of March, over 700 people have died.
[End Excerpt]
Why are the people who were burned to death by Muslims on the train in Gujarat tagged "Hindu fundamentalists"? What, in your opinion, are the fundamentals of Hinduism, and why do you think the people who got incinerated were following these "fundamentals"?
I find it interesting that you do not say either of the following to describe the incident:
On FEB-26, a group of Muslims EXTREMISTS attacked a train in the western state of Gujarat. It was filled with Hindu fundamentalists who were returning from a pilgrimage to Ayodhya.
OR,
On FEB-26, a group of Muslims attacked a train in the western state of Gujarat. It was filled with Hindu PILGRIMS who were returning from a pilgrimage to Ayodhya.
Saying either of the above would indicate that you apply equal standards to intolerant behaviour, regardless of the religion involved. But that is apparently not the case here. Your language exposes your own pet biases and bigotry. The standards of behaviour applied to Hindus and Muslims seem to differ in your opinion. A group of people are promptly dubbed "fundamentalists" by you because they were returning from a visit to a disputed religious site, whereas a group of people who merrily barbecued fifty-eight men, women, and children deserve no such tag, apparently.
I find it surprising that a web site with a name like religioustolerance.org gratuitously uses a patently bigoted term like "fundamentalist" to describe the victims of a tragedy. I take it that with a name like religoustolerance.org, you are positioning your web site to promote religious tolerance rather than religious bigotry. Is this a fair assumption on my part?
Sougata Sarkar
Coda: I have often wondered idly about the bad press that Hinduism gets. Even when the source is otherwise credible and reputable. Anybody with even a rudimentary sense of fairplay must wonder about this.
More self-inquiry
Just when you thought it was safe to look at this blog again, I am forced to get personal again. You see, Rob has hit me with a tag.
Rob got tagged with the following question: What are your top five quirks? He answered that in a post here and with devilish glee, tagged me.
So now let's see...what are my quirks? As Rob said of himself in his post, I seem quite normal to myself. So, to help me out with my quirks, I turned to the one person in the world who is foolish enough, er...I mean, loves me enough, to actually tolerate living with them. Namely, my wife. Who better than she will know what my quirks are? So I asked her. The conversation went as follows.
Me: Honey, what are my quirks?
Wife: You don't have quirks, you have disorders.
Me: Sorry dear, I forgot. Sweetness, what are my disorders?
Wife: Who wants to know?
Me: Er...just some people on the Internet.
Wife: Are you getting paid for this?
Me: No sugar-dove, this is pro bono.
Okay, so I am trying to be funny. To cut a long story short, she came up with three quirks without much head-scratching. Then she lost interest. I'll fill in the other two.
(1) She says that I sleep too little. I sleep with the lights on and can't sleep in a noiseless room. Meaning, I need some sort of white noise, like the noise of a table-fan to fall asleep. I like that mechanical lullaby. She says that I fall asleep with the laptop in front of me and with my fingers on the keys. She also says that she sometimes wakes up in the night and tries to move my fingers away from the keyboard, but I fight her in my sleep.
(2) She says that I'm a restless sort who can't sit still for long. I pace the room while thinking, talking, and even eating. I hardly eat at the dinner table at home. She says that trying to have a conversation with me is like trying to have a conversation with a tennis ball in a tennis match. Only more annoying.
(3) She finds it strange that I used to go for months eating nothing but canned food when I was a bachelor. "Didn't you need fresh, hot food once in a while?" she wonders. "Fresh, hot food is nice, but not necessary," is my thinking.
So those are the three quirks my wife came up with. For the record, she said after, "I love you anyway." She then added, absent-mindedly, "What choice do I have?"
Er...ha, ha, she's a regular comedian, my wife.
(4) I smoke, but I am not addicted to tobacco. I'll go out drinking one day and smoke a whole pack (usually by bumming from other people; most smoker friends avoid me), and then go for months without touching a cigarette.
(5) I probably talk a little too much and hold a few too many opinions. Sadly for me and for those around me who suffer through it, my opinion on a topic usually towers over my knowledge on the topic. I'm trying to change. It's hard.
My understanding is this: The spirit of tagging dictates that I pay it forward. Forgive me if you can find it in your hearts, but Balajee, Ashok, Jyoti, you're it.
Rob got tagged with the following question: What are your top five quirks? He answered that in a post here and with devilish glee, tagged me.
So now let's see...what are my quirks? As Rob said of himself in his post, I seem quite normal to myself. So, to help me out with my quirks, I turned to the one person in the world who is foolish enough, er...I mean, loves me enough, to actually tolerate living with them. Namely, my wife. Who better than she will know what my quirks are? So I asked her. The conversation went as follows.
Me: Honey, what are my quirks?
Wife: You don't have quirks, you have disorders.
Me: Sorry dear, I forgot. Sweetness, what are my disorders?
Wife: Who wants to know?
Me: Er...just some people on the Internet.
Wife: Are you getting paid for this?
Me: No sugar-dove, this is pro bono.
Okay, so I am trying to be funny. To cut a long story short, she came up with three quirks without much head-scratching. Then she lost interest. I'll fill in the other two.
(1) She says that I sleep too little. I sleep with the lights on and can't sleep in a noiseless room. Meaning, I need some sort of white noise, like the noise of a table-fan to fall asleep. I like that mechanical lullaby. She says that I fall asleep with the laptop in front of me and with my fingers on the keys. She also says that she sometimes wakes up in the night and tries to move my fingers away from the keyboard, but I fight her in my sleep.
(2) She says that I'm a restless sort who can't sit still for long. I pace the room while thinking, talking, and even eating. I hardly eat at the dinner table at home. She says that trying to have a conversation with me is like trying to have a conversation with a tennis ball in a tennis match. Only more annoying.
(3) She finds it strange that I used to go for months eating nothing but canned food when I was a bachelor. "Didn't you need fresh, hot food once in a while?" she wonders. "Fresh, hot food is nice, but not necessary," is my thinking.
So those are the three quirks my wife came up with. For the record, she said after, "I love you anyway." She then added, absent-mindedly, "What choice do I have?"
Er...ha, ha, she's a regular comedian, my wife.
(4) I smoke, but I am not addicted to tobacco. I'll go out drinking one day and smoke a whole pack (usually by bumming from other people; most smoker friends avoid me), and then go for months without touching a cigarette.
(5) I probably talk a little too much and hold a few too many opinions. Sadly for me and for those around me who suffer through it, my opinion on a topic usually towers over my knowledge on the topic. I'm trying to change. It's hard.
My understanding is this: The spirit of tagging dictates that I pay it forward. Forgive me if you can find it in your hearts, but Balajee, Ashok, Jyoti, you're it.
The Dance of Creation
Thank you Balajee and Rob, for your comments on my previous post. It occurs to me that if the moves that God made as He was going about the business of Creation were recorded using chess notation, the record might look something like the following.
1. Create Light !
2. Create Earth !
1. Create Light !
2. Create Earth !
[Note: There is wide disagreement among experts about this move; some give it a !, while others give it a ??]
3. Create Sky
4. Create Oceans
5. Create Mountains
6. Create Pat Robertson (Wait, Lord...never mind, too late. Carry on.)
...
105. Create Monisha Koirala !!
106. Create the feeling in her that she has acting ability, thereby subjecting millions of people to a mild form of torture ??
...
565. Create cellphones !
567. Create cellphone ringtones that play a tinny, metallic Fur Elise ?
...
...
12,546. Create Sougata !?
3. Create Sky
4. Create Oceans
5. Create Mountains
6. Create Pat Robertson (Wait, Lord...never mind, too late. Carry on.)
...
105. Create Monisha Koirala !!
106. Create the feeling in her that she has acting ability, thereby subjecting millions of people to a mild form of torture ??
...
565. Create cellphones !
567. Create cellphone ringtones that play a tinny, metallic Fur Elise ?
...
...
12,546. Create Sougata !?
[Note: According to some analysts, this should be ?!]
...
OK, now that we have established beyond reasonable doubt that the stuttery-looking description below my name is not simply a case of keyboard epilepsy, we'll get off this ego trip and move on.
I am cycling backwards through the various comments on the previous posts and trying to respond to them, driven by the rather pitifully buoyant pair of assumptions that the commenters are (A) still around, and (B) give a f***.
Ironluca says that history has a tendency to repeat itself for those who disregard it as well as for those who do not. I find this observation to be wiser than Santayana's original assertion. Even those who are aware of history often repeat it. Foresight inertia, maybe?
Ironluca is the creatively menacing name for an old friend. Welcome, Ironluca. Who sleeps with the fishes tonight?
...
OK, now that we have established beyond reasonable doubt that the stuttery-looking description below my name is not simply a case of keyboard epilepsy, we'll get off this ego trip and move on.
I am cycling backwards through the various comments on the previous posts and trying to respond to them, driven by the rather pitifully buoyant pair of assumptions that the commenters are (A) still around, and (B) give a f***.
Ironluca says that history has a tendency to repeat itself for those who disregard it as well as for those who do not. I find this observation to be wiser than Santayana's original assertion. Even those who are aware of history often repeat it. Foresight inertia, maybe?
Ironluca is the creatively menacing name for an old friend. Welcome, Ironluca. Who sleeps with the fishes tonight?
About me--A bit of narcissism and self-indulgence, perhaps (Does blogger handle such long titles? I'm about to find out.)
Those who play chess will know that there are several notation systems that are used to record the moves in a chess game. The systems and their variations are all quite easy to understand and I will not tire the reader.
A small example should serve. In algebraic notation, which is most commonly used at present because it is culture-agnostic, the chess board is divided into eight horizontal ranks numbered from 1 to 8, and eight vertical files denoted by the lowercase letters "a" to "h". So the square at the lower left corner is called a1 and the square at the upper right corner is called h8. Other squares are similarly named. Under the algebraic notation system, the King pawn moving two squares forward from its initial position would simply be recorded as "e4".
The names of the pieces are abbreviated also. So a knight moving from the square g1 to capture a pesky bishop sitting on h3 would be recorded "Nxh3".
There are also symbols that is used to comment moves. This meta set is used by people who analyze chess games. Pick up any book of recorded chess games of the past or present, and you will find that some of the moves in a game have strange symbols like !, ?, or ?? next to them. Like so: "Nxh3??"
These symbols are used by chess analysts to annotate a move and tell the reader what they think of the move in question. The short list of such comment symbols is:
! -- a good move
!! -- an excellent move
? -- a mistake
?? -- a blunder. Alternatively known as "Ye great gads, what was the moron thinking?" Most of the moves from my own games are annotated with this symbol.
!? -- an interesting move that may not be best
?! -- a dubious move, but not easily refuted
When I started this blog, blogger.com presented me with a space to describe myself. I did. The description appears right below my name at the upper right hand corner of this blog. It is "!?". I struggled with it for a bit because it was a toss-up between the last two on the list. I'm still not completely sure which one of the two it should be, but I went with what I went with.
A small example should serve. In algebraic notation, which is most commonly used at present because it is culture-agnostic, the chess board is divided into eight horizontal ranks numbered from 1 to 8, and eight vertical files denoted by the lowercase letters "a" to "h". So the square at the lower left corner is called a1 and the square at the upper right corner is called h8. Other squares are similarly named. Under the algebraic notation system, the King pawn moving two squares forward from its initial position would simply be recorded as "e4".
The names of the pieces are abbreviated also. So a knight moving from the square g1 to capture a pesky bishop sitting on h3 would be recorded "Nxh3".
There are also symbols that is used to comment moves. This meta set is used by people who analyze chess games. Pick up any book of recorded chess games of the past or present, and you will find that some of the moves in a game have strange symbols like !, ?, or ?? next to them. Like so: "Nxh3??"
These symbols are used by chess analysts to annotate a move and tell the reader what they think of the move in question. The short list of such comment symbols is:
! -- a good move
!! -- an excellent move
? -- a mistake
?? -- a blunder. Alternatively known as "Ye great gads, what was the moron thinking?" Most of the moves from my own games are annotated with this symbol.
!? -- an interesting move that may not be best
?! -- a dubious move, but not easily refuted
When I started this blog, blogger.com presented me with a space to describe myself. I did. The description appears right below my name at the upper right hand corner of this blog. It is "!?". I struggled with it for a bit because it was a toss-up between the last two on the list. I'm still not completely sure which one of the two it should be, but I went with what I went with.
Two posts for the price
Post un: Iraq
While driving to work this morning, I tuned in to NPR and heard the President outline his future strategy for Iraq. More of the same, about says it. I won't dwell on it. I want to discuss something that came after the speech and something that I have often thought about.
It is my understanding that what goaded the President into addressing the nation is the criticism that terrorism seems to be far from declining in Iraq. Insurgents are hitting Iraqi civilian and American military targets daily.
There were post-speech analyses by various grand poohbahs. Also, this being NPR an' all, there was an effort to be balanced. So you had Russ Feingold, Democratic Senator from Wisconsin, telling us what exactly what he thought of the President's plan, and also, his grip on reality.
And then there was Iliana Ross-Leighten, Republican Congressperson from Florida, who spiritedly defended the war in Iraq. It is something she said that I want to focus on.
The host of the show (I forget his name) asked this question of the Congressperson: "But ma'm, there is no link between 9/11 and Iraq. So why are we in Iraq?"
Now this is something that I have often wondered about myself. Though idly, because I am a non-American and therefore there are a few degrees of separation between my individual self and this war. I do not even personally know anybody who is serving in or has died fighting this war. Am I within my rights to wonder about the reasons for this war, then? Well, only to the extent that it is a global event. Just as an American has the right to wonder about and investigate the cause of the Asian tsunami, I suppose I might, as an Indian, be forgiven my curiousity about the cause of a war that is responsible for the death of regular people in another part of the world. Why did the US invade Iraq, specifically? Why not Pakistan, father and occassional peddler of the Islamic nucelar bomb? Why not Sudan? Or Saudi Arabia. So the host's question to the Congressperson made me sit up and pay attention.
Now before I tell you what Congresswoman Iliana Ross-Leighton's reply was, let me go off on a minor tangent and tell you that I, personally, believe in simplicity. Simple is good. And the simple answer to the host's question is of course this, "Well, we decided to go into Iraq because of a pressingly important reason which can be summed up with the following two words: just cuz. And since we are now in it, we gotta knuckle down and fix it. Or at least, we have to try."
But the Congresswoman did not say this because no politician can, for obvious reasons, speak the embarassing truth. Also, the above answer does not make for good copy.
So instead, she said this (And I may not be getting this verbatim because I am not an aural eidetic, but I'm pretty sure that I am capturing the gist):
Quoth she, "The point I am trying to make is: people say that we are getting attacked by terrorists because we are in Iraq. But what about 9/11? We were not in Iraq then, and we got attacked."
I would have driven off the road laughing, except for the fact that I didn't. That answer is such a mess that I don't even know where to begin. It first attempts to avoid the question, then begs the question, is trivially true, and misdirects.
Let's examine misdirection first. Note that if you invert the last sentence, this conclusion arises: Had we been in Iraq then, we would not have been attacked.
Invert the logic and you create a bogus link between Iraq and 9/11! Sweet! It becomes a little frightening when you consider that a minor variation on this sort of reasoning, dressed up in political spin, was essentially the rhetoric that was used to sell the war to Americans in the first place. Apparently, some people still hold to it.
Consider that sentence again: We were not in Iraq then, and we got attacked.
So what IS the problem with the reasoning in that last sentence? The problem with that sentence is NOT that it is not true. The problem is that it is too true.
Here is what I am talking about. You can substitute the name of almost any country for Iraq and it does not change the truth content of the Congresswoman's statement. For example, how about this: "But what about 9/11? We were not in Greenland then, and we got attacked."
While driving to work this morning, I tuned in to NPR and heard the President outline his future strategy for Iraq. More of the same, about says it. I won't dwell on it. I want to discuss something that came after the speech and something that I have often thought about.
It is my understanding that what goaded the President into addressing the nation is the criticism that terrorism seems to be far from declining in Iraq. Insurgents are hitting Iraqi civilian and American military targets daily.
There were post-speech analyses by various grand poohbahs. Also, this being NPR an' all, there was an effort to be balanced. So you had Russ Feingold, Democratic Senator from Wisconsin, telling us what exactly what he thought of the President's plan, and also, his grip on reality.
And then there was Iliana Ross-Leighten, Republican Congressperson from Florida, who spiritedly defended the war in Iraq. It is something she said that I want to focus on.
The host of the show (I forget his name) asked this question of the Congressperson: "But ma'm, there is no link between 9/11 and Iraq. So why are we in Iraq?"
Now this is something that I have often wondered about myself. Though idly, because I am a non-American and therefore there are a few degrees of separation between my individual self and this war. I do not even personally know anybody who is serving in or has died fighting this war. Am I within my rights to wonder about the reasons for this war, then? Well, only to the extent that it is a global event. Just as an American has the right to wonder about and investigate the cause of the Asian tsunami, I suppose I might, as an Indian, be forgiven my curiousity about the cause of a war that is responsible for the death of regular people in another part of the world. Why did the US invade Iraq, specifically? Why not Pakistan, father and occassional peddler of the Islamic nucelar bomb? Why not Sudan? Or Saudi Arabia. So the host's question to the Congressperson made me sit up and pay attention.
Now before I tell you what Congresswoman Iliana Ross-Leighton's reply was, let me go off on a minor tangent and tell you that I, personally, believe in simplicity. Simple is good. And the simple answer to the host's question is of course this, "Well, we decided to go into Iraq because of a pressingly important reason which can be summed up with the following two words: just cuz. And since we are now in it, we gotta knuckle down and fix it. Or at least, we have to try."
But the Congresswoman did not say this because no politician can, for obvious reasons, speak the embarassing truth. Also, the above answer does not make for good copy.
So instead, she said this (And I may not be getting this verbatim because I am not an aural eidetic, but I'm pretty sure that I am capturing the gist):
Quoth she, "The point I am trying to make is: people say that we are getting attacked by terrorists because we are in Iraq. But what about 9/11? We were not in Iraq then, and we got attacked."
I would have driven off the road laughing, except for the fact that I didn't. That answer is such a mess that I don't even know where to begin. It first attempts to avoid the question, then begs the question, is trivially true, and misdirects.
Let's examine misdirection first. Note that if you invert the last sentence, this conclusion arises: Had we been in Iraq then, we would not have been attacked.
Invert the logic and you create a bogus link between Iraq and 9/11! Sweet! It becomes a little frightening when you consider that a minor variation on this sort of reasoning, dressed up in political spin, was essentially the rhetoric that was used to sell the war to Americans in the first place. Apparently, some people still hold to it.
Consider that sentence again: We were not in Iraq then, and we got attacked.
So what IS the problem with the reasoning in that last sentence? The problem with that sentence is NOT that it is not true. The problem is that it is too true.
Here is what I am talking about. You can substitute the name of almost any country for Iraq and it does not change the truth content of the Congresswoman's statement. For example, how about this: "But what about 9/11? We were not in Greenland then, and we got attacked."
Or: "But what about 9/11? We were not in Germany then, and we got attacked."
That is the problem with the reasoning. It can be used to sell ANY war against any country.
Actually the replacement word does not even have to be the name of a country. It could be a profession or a hobby or anything. How about this: "We were not into Feng Shui then, and we got attacked." Or: "We were not into semi-nude mud-wrestling then, and we got attacked."
The statement is trivially true.
The statement becomes non-trivial only when it can be proved that Iraq (or Greenland or Feng Shui) was responsible for terrorism directed against the United States ex ante, and hence we could have pre-empted 9/11 by being in Iraq (or by being in Greenland or by following Feng Shui).
The good Congresswoman is stretching mightily to draw (sell?) the inference that Iraq was actively involved in: (A) terrorism in general, and (B) 9/11 in particular, by implying that not being in Iraq led to the attack on 9/11.
Actually the replacement word does not even have to be the name of a country. It could be a profession or a hobby or anything. How about this: "We were not into Feng Shui then, and we got attacked." Or: "We were not into semi-nude mud-wrestling then, and we got attacked."
The statement is trivially true.
The statement becomes non-trivial only when it can be proved that Iraq (or Greenland or Feng Shui) was responsible for terrorism directed against the United States ex ante, and hence we could have pre-empted 9/11 by being in Iraq (or by being in Greenland or by following Feng Shui).
The good Congresswoman is stretching mightily to draw (sell?) the inference that Iraq was actively involved in: (A) terrorism in general, and (B) 9/11 in particular, by implying that not being in Iraq led to the attack on 9/11.
But that is exactly the sort of conventional wisdom that we are questioning. The question is if Iraq was connected to 9/11. The question is if the United States did not just waste a whole bunch of resources (yes, that is an insensitive and callous way of saying "lives") fighting a war that did not need to be fought. Or needed to be fought elsewhere.
The Congresswoman's statement is therefore also a good example of begging the question. Simply restate the question as an assertion and use it to support your argument. Turn your desired conclusion into a premise. Sweet. I must learn to do this sometime.
Post deux: A Photo Blog
I sometimes analyze the content of my blog. It is a sobering thing to do. Criticism is the cheapest kind of talk and my blog has a lot of it.
If you want to see creativity, check this out: Babu's Photo Journal. I was surprised to find the author commenting on my earlier post. If I am not mistaken, this is of course my friend D from New Jersey. D, I really like the comments that you tag your pictures with; they make the pictures come alive. I liked this one especially: Traffic is chaotic and unruly in Aizawl, as in most other Indian cities. Police is a mere witness. But everything works out in the end.
The Congresswoman's statement is therefore also a good example of begging the question. Simply restate the question as an assertion and use it to support your argument. Turn your desired conclusion into a premise. Sweet. I must learn to do this sometime.
Post deux: A Photo Blog
I sometimes analyze the content of my blog. It is a sobering thing to do. Criticism is the cheapest kind of talk and my blog has a lot of it.
If you want to see creativity, check this out: Babu's Photo Journal. I was surprised to find the author commenting on my earlier post. If I am not mistaken, this is of course my friend D from New Jersey. D, I really like the comments that you tag your pictures with; they make the pictures come alive. I liked this one especially: Traffic is chaotic and unruly in Aizawl, as in most other Indian cities. Police is a mere witness. But everything works out in the end.
My First Kiss
Do you remember the thrill of your first kiss? Do you remember the pain of the first dent on your car? I bet you do. Any first always holds a special place in one's heart. Well, today I am thrilled at a first of my own. I have received my first hate mail. I am moved.
No really, a real live hate mail. Not the civilized, well-articulated, but basically tame, non-abusive (ha, ha) stuff that some of the readers of this blog sometimes hit me with. So outright hate is a first. Okay, give me a moment here. I have to swallow this lump in my throat.
Oh I know I'll get used to it. I'll eventually develop a crust and take it as the normal course of things. I'll (horrors!) learn to ignore it even. But this is my moment and I intend to live it.
Okay, enough foolin' around. The background is as below.
I wrote a post about Bengalis called La Nuit Bengali and how we are naive to have let ourselves be governed by the Communists for this long. Well somebody--who is without doubt a fellow Bengali--got all heartbroken at the way I put it. And he posted a comment, mysteriously enough under a different post called Eighty-Twenty expressing his pain. Go figure, eh?
Now I must warn you, brace yourselves. This guy is a real wordsmith. Very articulate. His comment in its entirety, edited a little by yours truly for family-friendly presentation, went:
As you can see, he is a regular Shakespeare whose time hasn't come. So there you have it folks, my first hate mail. I am touched. Shucks.
After the initial excitement of my first kiss dwindled to nothing, a wonderful thought struck me. I always had this idea that India is behind the curve when it came to per capita Internet access. Internet was for the rich dudes who could afford the steep prices. The fact that a person like Anon is loose on the Internet posting ummm...comments on blogs and stuff proves that this reality is changing. The arena is opening up. The Internet has obviously touched even the lowest strata of Indian society. Very encouraging.
Also, after the excitement went away, I thought about how and whether to respond to Anon or not. I thought for about five minutes and decided thus.
At first, I thought to myself idly, why not rip this obvious retard a new one. Publicly. A reaming that he will talk to his little grandchildren about, over after-dinner coffee and brandy.
But on second thoughts, I have decided to be nice to him. There are four reasons.
First, the general level of conversation by way of comments has been quite high on this blog. Don't want to lower that by getting medieval on and tearing to shreds someone who is, judging by the symptoms, a lobotomized mental dwarf.
Second, it would be just too easy to take this poorly-funded lab experiment (Anon, that's you) to the cleaners, given that it has demonstrated the same linguistic ability and gift for expression as flotsam. No challenge here.
Third, it wastes my time. I am not in the business of tutoring morons who are beyond redemption in the niceties of basic netiquette. I am also not in the business of dispensing free lessons on how to conduct a civil discussion in mixed company, in a public space.
Fourth, it is unsatisfying to beat up on a nebulous entity that you can't even assign a name to. It's kinda like backchatting to yourself in front of a mirror. Pointless and lame.
But I will tell Anon a little something. Just this once. This is why.
As is the norm I suppose among folks like Anon, he did not display even the superficial courage of leaving his name (fake or otherwise) and an email address in his comments. If he had, I would have contacted him at his email address to discuss things in a private manner. Instead, he safely and anonymously hurled some random insults in the public comments section on my blog and moved on to happier hunting grounds.
Well I hope the little bastard comes back and reads this at least.
Dear anon, my little dimwitted songbird, the fact that I called Bengalis idiots obviously annoys you and makes you jump up and down like the retarded ape you no doubt are. You very likely did not ponder carefully everything that I said. You do not consider why Bengal, from the position of being a relatively rich and industrialized state, is now damn near at the bottom of the heap and is just recently making a whimpering effort to scramble back some scraps. You do not think--quite possibly because you are a brainwashed, foul-mouthed, Commie stooge--that every Bengali who really cares about what happens to that state should be screaming from the rooftops about what idiots we have been, by repeatedly electing the Leftists (and still doing it) into power like whip-crazy masochists.
No, you did not do any of this. Instead, you jumped up and down and displayed your ignorance/arrogance by vomiting infantile, unstudied garbage into my blog. Well, being the helpful sort that I usually am, please allow me to do something about your obvious discomfort.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
There, are we feeling all better now? No? Well there's more where that came from. Here you go.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
And you, my dear, with your well thought out comment, just helped along that notion better than I ever could have done myself. I was putting on a bit of rhetoric when writing about Bengal. Remember that I am a Bengali too. But you went well above and beyond the call and provided a concrete example of what I was only talking about in the abstract. Do yourself--and by extension the rest of us regular Bengalis who suffer the ignominy of getting equated with the likes of you--a favour by:
(1) Learning to read. In particular, read the postscript at the end of that post which got you all excited and doing wee-wee on the floor, you misshapen mutt. It might give you a hint.
(2) Educating yourself.
(3) Learning to spell common words correctly.
(4) Learning to think for yourself.
(5) Letting the Commie bastards who first violated you and then brainwashed you at the tender age of six know that you have decided to think for yourself and will no longer wash their dirty laundry for them like the good little slave they brought you up to be.
Apologies as always to regular Bengalis (Anon, this is not you). Do forgive the rhetoric. It is directed at Anon, a fellow Bengali whom nature has obviously not been terribly kind to. It is our patriotic duty to bring him into the light. But slowly and carefully, because he is not completely housebroken yet. Roll up that newspaper and keep it handy.
Dear anon, you don't yet get how this whole Internet thing works, do you? Let me clue you in, you imbecile. The Internet gives you anonymity, but not unchallenged artistic license to spew whatever bilge your unfortunate upbringing lets you think is okay to spew in mixed company. Expect to be called on it, you insufferable friggin' bastard.
But really anon, pleasantries apart, here are some serious thoughts for you to chew on. Take it slowly and you should be fine.
Anon, I am every bit as proud a Bengali as you make your own self out to be. It hurts you to see bad written about Bengal; it hurts me to write bad about it. I am proud of Bengal's past, not terribly impressed with its present, and want to be proud of its future. I hold a lot of things about Bengal sacred also, as you undoubtedly do. But here's something to think about. Never hold anything so sacred that you blind yourself to its faults.
It occurs to me however, judging by the blunt hint that you have provided of your general level of intelligence, that there are grave chances you will not understand much of what is written in this post. But this is okay. I'll let you in on a secret. This post is really not for your benefit. Writing this post gave me something to do late on a Friday night and hopefully will provide much amusement to the civilized readers of this blog who will laugh at you and be entertained. It has nothing to do with you.
Anon, here's my take on you: you are either a prepubescent, sweaty, acne-ridden visual catastrophe who has just yesterday discovered this crazy little thing called the Internet. In which case, the natural question must be, "Does Daddy know that you are stealing time on his computer and peeking at stuff you are not supposed to see? And will he take you out to the shed and spank your sorry behind when he finds out?"
Or perhaps, you are an over-the-hill, lower-echelon Commie-grunt who, against party directive, is trolling blogs when he should be out there on the streets getting in the way of progress.
If the former, my friend, there is perhaps hope for you. Hope that you will one day grow up and get yourself an education that will in turn free (what currently passes for) your mind. If the latter, allow me to say to you: you poor, poor fool; you probably deserve more pity than scorn, because you are beyond the reach of medical science now.
Respectfully Yours (Come now!)
Sougata Sarkar
Postscript: Hey you anon, it occurred to me a little late that the content on the Internet is what may be called a gated private good. Which is a meaningless but cool sounding phrase I just made up. What that means, you idiot, is that once you have paid a gate fee in the form of access charges, the entire content of the Internet including public forums like blogs become available to the best of us (that would be everybody except you) and the worst of us (that would be you).
Internet content is not a purely private good once you (or in your case, the university or somesuch that made the mistake of admitting you) has paid the gate fee. It is non-excludable, which means, you moron, that any worthwhile content that is available to the best of us is also available to vermin like you. It cannot be withheld from you. And actually, in my personal opinion, this is how it should be. Reading blogs and other content written by regular folks offers troglodytes like you the only decent shot at becoming human beings. But mind you, I said reading, not writing. You are, in your current primitive state, still far from contributing anything to the sum total of human knowledge.
Bearing that in mind, if you are thinking of posting any further comments on my blog, please don't tax the few brain cells you have in the effort. Your comments will be deleted and sent to the trashcan, where quite honestly, you yourself likely crawled out of.
Feel free to come in to my blog and browse. You can even engage in civil dialogue with me or the bright people who occassionally read this blog. They or I will be happy to improve your (A) knowledge, and (B) manners. But any attempt at puerile, adolescent commenting will be dealt with severely. In plain English, if I see so much as another swear word in your comments, I will personally and digitally spank you till you are raw, like the bad little child that you are.
I have noted your IP address and will follow up on this quite mercilessly, I assure you.
Don't know what an IP address is? It is this dotted number quad that...oh screw it...this is the magical shit that makes the Internet happen and allows total asses like you to make themselves publicly manifest.
Fucking cretin.
No really, a real live hate mail. Not the civilized, well-articulated, but basically tame, non-abusive (ha, ha) stuff that some of the readers of this blog sometimes hit me with. So outright hate is a first. Okay, give me a moment here. I have to swallow this lump in my throat.
Oh I know I'll get used to it. I'll eventually develop a crust and take it as the normal course of things. I'll (horrors!) learn to ignore it even. But this is my moment and I intend to live it.
Okay, enough foolin' around. The background is as below.
I wrote a post about Bengalis called La Nuit Bengali and how we are naive to have let ourselves be governed by the Communists for this long. Well somebody--who is without doubt a fellow Bengali--got all heartbroken at the way I put it. And he posted a comment, mysteriously enough under a different post called Eighty-Twenty expressing his pain. Go figure, eh?
Now I must warn you, brace yourselves. This guy is a real wordsmith. Very articulate. His comment in its entirety, edited a little by yours truly for family-friendly presentation, went:
You bustard [sic], bleep bleep, bloody bleep, go & bleep ur mother before calling bengalees idiots
As you can see, he is a regular Shakespeare whose time hasn't come. So there you have it folks, my first hate mail. I am touched. Shucks.
After the initial excitement of my first kiss dwindled to nothing, a wonderful thought struck me. I always had this idea that India is behind the curve when it came to per capita Internet access. Internet was for the rich dudes who could afford the steep prices. The fact that a person like Anon is loose on the Internet posting ummm...comments on blogs and stuff proves that this reality is changing. The arena is opening up. The Internet has obviously touched even the lowest strata of Indian society. Very encouraging.
Also, after the excitement went away, I thought about how and whether to respond to Anon or not. I thought for about five minutes and decided thus.
At first, I thought to myself idly, why not rip this obvious retard a new one. Publicly. A reaming that he will talk to his little grandchildren about, over after-dinner coffee and brandy.
But on second thoughts, I have decided to be nice to him. There are four reasons.
First, the general level of conversation by way of comments has been quite high on this blog. Don't want to lower that by getting medieval on and tearing to shreds someone who is, judging by the symptoms, a lobotomized mental dwarf.
Second, it would be just too easy to take this poorly-funded lab experiment (Anon, that's you) to the cleaners, given that it has demonstrated the same linguistic ability and gift for expression as flotsam. No challenge here.
Third, it wastes my time. I am not in the business of tutoring morons who are beyond redemption in the niceties of basic netiquette. I am also not in the business of dispensing free lessons on how to conduct a civil discussion in mixed company, in a public space.
Fourth, it is unsatisfying to beat up on a nebulous entity that you can't even assign a name to. It's kinda like backchatting to yourself in front of a mirror. Pointless and lame.
But I will tell Anon a little something. Just this once. This is why.
As is the norm I suppose among folks like Anon, he did not display even the superficial courage of leaving his name (fake or otherwise) and an email address in his comments. If he had, I would have contacted him at his email address to discuss things in a private manner. Instead, he safely and anonymously hurled some random insults in the public comments section on my blog and moved on to happier hunting grounds.
Well I hope the little bastard comes back and reads this at least.
Dear anon, my little dimwitted songbird, the fact that I called Bengalis idiots obviously annoys you and makes you jump up and down like the retarded ape you no doubt are. You very likely did not ponder carefully everything that I said. You do not consider why Bengal, from the position of being a relatively rich and industrialized state, is now damn near at the bottom of the heap and is just recently making a whimpering effort to scramble back some scraps. You do not think--quite possibly because you are a brainwashed, foul-mouthed, Commie stooge--that every Bengali who really cares about what happens to that state should be screaming from the rooftops about what idiots we have been, by repeatedly electing the Leftists (and still doing it) into power like whip-crazy masochists.
No, you did not do any of this. Instead, you jumped up and down and displayed your ignorance/arrogance by vomiting infantile, unstudied garbage into my blog. Well, being the helpful sort that I usually am, please allow me to do something about your obvious discomfort.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
There, are we feeling all better now? No? Well there's more where that came from. Here you go.
Bengalis are idiots.
Bengalis are idiots.
And you, my dear, with your well thought out comment, just helped along that notion better than I ever could have done myself. I was putting on a bit of rhetoric when writing about Bengal. Remember that I am a Bengali too. But you went well above and beyond the call and provided a concrete example of what I was only talking about in the abstract. Do yourself--and by extension the rest of us regular Bengalis who suffer the ignominy of getting equated with the likes of you--a favour by:
(1) Learning to read. In particular, read the postscript at the end of that post which got you all excited and doing wee-wee on the floor, you misshapen mutt. It might give you a hint.
(2) Educating yourself.
(3) Learning to spell common words correctly.
(4) Learning to think for yourself.
(5) Letting the Commie bastards who first violated you and then brainwashed you at the tender age of six know that you have decided to think for yourself and will no longer wash their dirty laundry for them like the good little slave they brought you up to be.
Apologies as always to regular Bengalis (Anon, this is not you). Do forgive the rhetoric. It is directed at Anon, a fellow Bengali whom nature has obviously not been terribly kind to. It is our patriotic duty to bring him into the light. But slowly and carefully, because he is not completely housebroken yet. Roll up that newspaper and keep it handy.
Dear anon, you don't yet get how this whole Internet thing works, do you? Let me clue you in, you imbecile. The Internet gives you anonymity, but not unchallenged artistic license to spew whatever bilge your unfortunate upbringing lets you think is okay to spew in mixed company. Expect to be called on it, you insufferable friggin' bastard.
But really anon, pleasantries apart, here are some serious thoughts for you to chew on. Take it slowly and you should be fine.
Anon, I am every bit as proud a Bengali as you make your own self out to be. It hurts you to see bad written about Bengal; it hurts me to write bad about it. I am proud of Bengal's past, not terribly impressed with its present, and want to be proud of its future. I hold a lot of things about Bengal sacred also, as you undoubtedly do. But here's something to think about. Never hold anything so sacred that you blind yourself to its faults.
It occurs to me however, judging by the blunt hint that you have provided of your general level of intelligence, that there are grave chances you will not understand much of what is written in this post. But this is okay. I'll let you in on a secret. This post is really not for your benefit. Writing this post gave me something to do late on a Friday night and hopefully will provide much amusement to the civilized readers of this blog who will laugh at you and be entertained. It has nothing to do with you.
Anon, here's my take on you: you are either a prepubescent, sweaty, acne-ridden visual catastrophe who has just yesterday discovered this crazy little thing called the Internet. In which case, the natural question must be, "Does Daddy know that you are stealing time on his computer and peeking at stuff you are not supposed to see? And will he take you out to the shed and spank your sorry behind when he finds out?"
Or perhaps, you are an over-the-hill, lower-echelon Commie-grunt who, against party directive, is trolling blogs when he should be out there on the streets getting in the way of progress.
If the former, my friend, there is perhaps hope for you. Hope that you will one day grow up and get yourself an education that will in turn free (what currently passes for) your mind. If the latter, allow me to say to you: you poor, poor fool; you probably deserve more pity than scorn, because you are beyond the reach of medical science now.
Respectfully Yours (Come now!)
Sougata Sarkar
Postscript: Hey you anon, it occurred to me a little late that the content on the Internet is what may be called a gated private good. Which is a meaningless but cool sounding phrase I just made up. What that means, you idiot, is that once you have paid a gate fee in the form of access charges, the entire content of the Internet including public forums like blogs become available to the best of us (that would be everybody except you) and the worst of us (that would be you).
Internet content is not a purely private good once you (or in your case, the university or somesuch that made the mistake of admitting you) has paid the gate fee. It is non-excludable, which means, you moron, that any worthwhile content that is available to the best of us is also available to vermin like you. It cannot be withheld from you. And actually, in my personal opinion, this is how it should be. Reading blogs and other content written by regular folks offers troglodytes like you the only decent shot at becoming human beings. But mind you, I said reading, not writing. You are, in your current primitive state, still far from contributing anything to the sum total of human knowledge.
Bearing that in mind, if you are thinking of posting any further comments on my blog, please don't tax the few brain cells you have in the effort. Your comments will be deleted and sent to the trashcan, where quite honestly, you yourself likely crawled out of.
Feel free to come in to my blog and browse. You can even engage in civil dialogue with me or the bright people who occassionally read this blog. They or I will be happy to improve your (A) knowledge, and (B) manners. But any attempt at puerile, adolescent commenting will be dealt with severely. In plain English, if I see so much as another swear word in your comments, I will personally and digitally spank you till you are raw, like the bad little child that you are.
I have noted your IP address and will follow up on this quite mercilessly, I assure you.
Don't know what an IP address is? It is this dotted number quad that...oh screw it...this is the magical shit that makes the Internet happen and allows total asses like you to make themselves publicly manifest.
Fucking cretin.
The Campaign
This is probably one post too many on the same topic, so I would like to offer my apologies in advance. But I could not resist taking one more potshot. Sue me.
Here's the situation as rediff would have it.
Aw golly-gee Kapil, I am not sure if that's a lesson in patriotism or geography, but thanks. Sorry, couldn't resist that.
Seriously though, he's right of course. Conducting a signature campaign to protest the exclusion from the national team of a cricketer that belongs to your state is parochial and indicates misaligned priorities. What's more important, it's stupid. I fail to understand the reason for the fuss. Does having Sourav play on the team improve Bengal economically? Culturally? Spiritually? Nope, negative, and feh. So what gives?
Meanwhile, here's how the All Bengal Signature Campaign Counter (brought to you courtesy of a big business house that wants your money) reads:
Number of signature campaigns to protest Sourav's exclusion, that I know of: 1
Number of signature campaigns to protest the Delhi blasts, as far as I know: 0
It is heartening to note that Bengalis, for one, have their priorities all lined up.
Yes, that's sarcasm.
Here's the situation as rediff would have it.
Film personalities from Kolkata on Tuesday joined the chorus of protests over Ganguly being kept out of the national squad, as demonstrators conducted signature campaigns and tore tickets of Friday's India-South Africa one-day match.Kapil Dev (Remember him? Yeah, that guy.), after the matter was brought to his notice, had this message for Kolkatans.
Why did you not protest about (Anil) Kumble [who was excluded from the one-day squad] not playing ? Don't you feel bad? It's the same thing.
The time Kolkata people feel bad about Anil Kumble, then I will feel bad about him [Ganguly's exclusion]. When they feel bad about (V V S) Laxman, then I will feel about Sourav Ganguly," he said, in response to a question at an interaction in Bangalore, arranged by GlaxoSmithKline Consumer Healthcare.
Because India comes first, then the State; You cannot think about your State and not think about your country. Country is much more bigger.
Aw golly-gee Kapil, I am not sure if that's a lesson in patriotism or geography, but thanks. Sorry, couldn't resist that.
Seriously though, he's right of course. Conducting a signature campaign to protest the exclusion from the national team of a cricketer that belongs to your state is parochial and indicates misaligned priorities. What's more important, it's stupid. I fail to understand the reason for the fuss. Does having Sourav play on the team improve Bengal economically? Culturally? Spiritually? Nope, negative, and feh. So what gives?
Meanwhile, here's how the All Bengal Signature Campaign Counter (brought to you courtesy of a big business house that wants your money) reads:
Number of signature campaigns to protest Sourav's exclusion, that I know of: 1
Number of signature campaigns to protest the Delhi blasts, as far as I know: 0
It is heartening to note that Bengalis, for one, have their priorities all lined up.
Yes, that's sarcasm.
Sideways
Sideways is a nice movie.
One scene in the movie is pertinent. I suspect that altogether too many people end up opening their best bottle of wine in a McDonald's.
What do I mean? Don't ask me. See the movie.
Yes, I know; cryptic, touchie feelie, philosophical bons mots annoy you. Me also. Ditto.
One scene in the movie is pertinent. I suspect that altogether too many people end up opening their best bottle of wine in a McDonald's.
What do I mean? Don't ask me. See the movie.
Yes, I know; cryptic, touchie feelie, philosophical bons mots annoy you. Me also. Ditto.
the prayer
On October 29, 2005 sixty-two people in New Delhi doing their Diwali shopping and going about their business were murdered by terrorists in three separate explosions.
This is November 13, 2005 and we are happy to report that we have since moved on. No, ladies and gentlemen, these terrorists will not defeat us. I am not quite sure what "defeat" means in this context, but whatever it is, they will not get it by us. Just two days after the blasts, for instance, we were getting all excited about sticking it good to Sri Lanka in a cricket match. The display of spirit was astonishing. Of course, the fact that nobody I personally knew got their insides splattered over a pavement helped boost my spirit some. I suppose everybody else followed a similar reasoning also to keep their respective morale up.
We are an apathetic people. And it is not the fact that India is a largely poor country that makes us so. It is not purely the struggle to overcome resource constraints and earning three square meals that keeps us busy and blinkered. Not entirely. After all, we do find time to devote entire days at a time to cricket. Even the inane movies we create and consume are double-length, three-hour inquisitions. We lack the time for empathy? I think not.
Two emotions struck me after the explosions. I found the display of concern by Pakistan amusing and the apathy of the media stunning.
Let's take the latter first. Allow me to go off on a tangent and bring up an email that my sister wrote to me after the London blasts. She said this, in effect: Dada, I am sickened by Americans and Brits who moan about 3000 and 57 lives lost to terrorism, respectively, and turn away disinterestedly from a similar loss of Indian and Chinese lives.
I basically agreed with her, but my reponse was as follows, and I quote verbatim:
I personally think that the media is apathetic because we are apathetic. It is not an accident. The few who take the time to write stupid blog posts and bitch and moan about terrorism do not form a critical mass. How do I know? From a simple observation of cause and effect. If there was critical mass and if we were vocal enough, the situation on the ground would have been different.
Next up on the stand: Pakistans' angst over the explosions.
Immediately after the blasts, Pakistan offered its sympathy and further offered to help us probe into the terrorism. The blasts are quite likely the handiwork of Lashkar-e-Tayiba, a terrorist organization from Pakistan that Pakistan will not break up.
See, it's kinda like this. Suppose I have a deranged son who is a physical menace to all around him. I have repeatedly been asked to commit him but have consistently refused to do so. Part of the reason is because he makes life unpleasant for my neighbour by vandalising his property every once in a while. My hope is that my neighbour will finally tire of it and move, selling his house in a fire sale. This will give me the oppportunity to snap up his property real cheap. One day, my son goes above and beyond the call of duty by raping and then battering to a pulp my neighbour's daughter. Now if I continue to protect and encourage my son, and at the same time send my neighbour flowers and my commiseration, what would I be called? A hypocritical, sadistic, fucking criminal-by-proxy, is my guess.
Now I know how the story goes, okay? I know that given the unfortunate reality that Pakistan has a few nukes, we must play nice with them. We cannot invade the bastards. We cannot even go after the terrorist camps in Pakistan because that may provoke an all-out nuclear war. So we make pathetic, lisping, PC noises when sixty people are vaporized in a Delhi market. Better sixty people once in a while than sixty million in one go, is how the thinking goes, I suppose.
Within the country, we repeal POTA (we do not modify it, we ditch it) because we would rather have a few people go up in smoke once in a while than offend a few potential terrorists and sympathizers.
So I know how the script goes. We must be nice. But can we spineless, thickskinned horse's-asses please, please at least stop playing cricket with thesemurderers Pakistanis? Is this too much to ask? It is not correct to note that an embargo on cricket will solve nothing. It will too, solve an important problem. It will allow me to keep my lunch down and not upchuck everytime I hear my fellow Indians talk about the wet dreams they are having thinking about Sachin Tendulkar going head to head, no pun intended, with Shoaib Akhtar.
Those who know me some will also know that I am an atheist. So I deny myself the luxury of prayer. However, on the outside chance that I am wrong and there is really something to this god-hypothesis and reincarnation hooey, I would like to tender this prayer:
Please oh Lord of the Skies, Earth, and All Creatures Great and Small, please let me not be reborn into this pathetic, snivelling, backbone-free, self-loathing culture that I am currently a part and parcel of. Better being born the son of a panhandling bum and a homeless crack whore in a culture with a trace of respect for itself, than the son of a rich gutkha king in a prideless one.
Om.
But wait, no, that doesn't sound quite right. On closer examination, you will notice that there are several things wrong with that prayer. I noticed this too. In fact, I thought about that prayer long and hard. I slept on it. And these are the flaws I discovered with the prayer:
(a) It reeks of escapism.
(b) It does nothing for me. I am asking for a limiting of personal material comforts in my next edition by choosing to be the son of a crack whore. Not a smart move.
(c) It does nothing for my culture. My culture will not miss one petulant individual (namely, me) and therefore the above threat of abandoment will not create an incentive for my culture to change in any fundamental way.
So I thought about it and modified it. Here is the modified prayer:
Oh Lord of the Earth, Skies and Too Many Other Things to Mention Here, please do not let such horrific acts of terrorism transpire on Indian soil in the future. Or any other soil, for that matter.
But if you do--and pay close attention here--IF YOU IN YOUR INFINITE WISOM DO ALLOW THIS, please arrange it so that the next explosion, instead of just taking out nameless, unwept, disposable people who will be written off as a statistical footnote to a proxy war, also takes out the son or daughter of a very important person. Like the son of an influential newspaper editor, for instance. Or the daughter of an extremely important politician.
Let me repeat that oh Lord, in case you've forgotten to take your usual recommended dose of Ritalin today, you attention-impaired son of a bitch. The SON or DAUGHTER of an important person, not the important person himself. Taking out an important person will do no good. A Laloo will be replaced by a Paswan and we will be no better off. The one who gets killed has to be someone who holds great emotional value to an influential person.
You may ask: Why do I ask so of our attention-impa... er, dear Lord? Reason is below.
Premise A: As I write this, India is ruled by uncaring, corrupt politicians. These politicians see no need to do anything fundamental in response to random acts of terrorism. The lives of sixty odd people is negotiated cheaply over the counter without missing a beat.
Premise B: Perverse though this may sound, these same politicians are in a position to make a change. Simply by the virtue of office. You or I will not make a difference. Not in my lifetime at least; there is no criticial mass. So yes, strangely a Laloo Prasad can bring about change. But for that, a Laloo Prasad must himself change. That is a binding precondition.
Premise C: People often change in response to a massively negative external stimulus. In plain English, people react to pain. The language of pain is universally understood.
Conclusion: Those who are in a position to bring about change must suffer a direct loss to be shaken out of their apathy.
You may further ask: Is this prayer too harsh? Not really, if you think about it. All I am asking is that the sixtieth non-entity who is destined to get blown up by an improvised explosive be substituted by the offspring of an important politician. I am not asking for more bloodshed than will happen anyway. At least this way, there is a small but non-zero chance that an important politician will act. Or a newspaper will actually take a stab at forming opinion. Otherwise all you have is a meaningless and needless blood-sacrifice as happened in Delhi on October 29, in the year of our Lord two thousand and five.
This is November 13, 2005 and we are happy to report that we have since moved on. No, ladies and gentlemen, these terrorists will not defeat us. I am not quite sure what "defeat" means in this context, but whatever it is, they will not get it by us. Just two days after the blasts, for instance, we were getting all excited about sticking it good to Sri Lanka in a cricket match. The display of spirit was astonishing. Of course, the fact that nobody I personally knew got their insides splattered over a pavement helped boost my spirit some. I suppose everybody else followed a similar reasoning also to keep their respective morale up.
We are an apathetic people. And it is not the fact that India is a largely poor country that makes us so. It is not purely the struggle to overcome resource constraints and earning three square meals that keeps us busy and blinkered. Not entirely. After all, we do find time to devote entire days at a time to cricket. Even the inane movies we create and consume are double-length, three-hour inquisitions. We lack the time for empathy? I think not.
Two emotions struck me after the explosions. I found the display of concern by Pakistan amusing and the apathy of the media stunning.
Let's take the latter first. Allow me to go off on a tangent and bring up an email that my sister wrote to me after the London blasts. She said this, in effect: Dada, I am sickened by Americans and Brits who moan about 3000 and 57 lives lost to terrorism, respectively, and turn away disinterestedly from a similar loss of Indian and Chinese lives.
I basically agreed with her, but my reponse was as follows, and I quote verbatim:
Why just massacres in India and China? Brits and Yanks are famously callous even when Russian schoolchildren get shot up by Chechens. But what are you going to do about it? They have the media muscle. Now India, Russia, and China have two choices: either build up muscle and lecture back to the Brits and Yanks, or just shut the fuck up.
And besides, why do we blame the Brits and Yanks? Indians themselves have no self-respect. When exactly three Australians die in India, the press goes wild and everybody and his brother beats their breasts about it. We are told their names, what brand of toilet paper they use to wipe their white asses, and also gently informed that the bereaved wife will get a Padmashree the next time around. [You do realize by now that I am talking about Graham Staines, right?]
But when a hundred pilgrims are butchered in cold blood in Amarnath, we take this as normal. Do you know the names of any of the victims of the Kashmir insurgency? Name one, I challenge you.
Don't blame the Brits. They are simply looking after their own. Develop some self-respect first. Others won't do it for us.
I personally think that the media is apathetic because we are apathetic. It is not an accident. The few who take the time to write stupid blog posts and bitch and moan about terrorism do not form a critical mass. How do I know? From a simple observation of cause and effect. If there was critical mass and if we were vocal enough, the situation on the ground would have been different.
Next up on the stand: Pakistans' angst over the explosions.
Immediately after the blasts, Pakistan offered its sympathy and further offered to help us probe into the terrorism. The blasts are quite likely the handiwork of Lashkar-e-Tayiba, a terrorist organization from Pakistan that Pakistan will not break up.
See, it's kinda like this. Suppose I have a deranged son who is a physical menace to all around him. I have repeatedly been asked to commit him but have consistently refused to do so. Part of the reason is because he makes life unpleasant for my neighbour by vandalising his property every once in a while. My hope is that my neighbour will finally tire of it and move, selling his house in a fire sale. This will give me the oppportunity to snap up his property real cheap. One day, my son goes above and beyond the call of duty by raping and then battering to a pulp my neighbour's daughter. Now if I continue to protect and encourage my son, and at the same time send my neighbour flowers and my commiseration, what would I be called? A hypocritical, sadistic, fucking criminal-by-proxy, is my guess.
Now I know how the story goes, okay? I know that given the unfortunate reality that Pakistan has a few nukes, we must play nice with them. We cannot invade the bastards. We cannot even go after the terrorist camps in Pakistan because that may provoke an all-out nuclear war. So we make pathetic, lisping, PC noises when sixty people are vaporized in a Delhi market. Better sixty people once in a while than sixty million in one go, is how the thinking goes, I suppose.
Within the country, we repeal POTA (we do not modify it, we ditch it) because we would rather have a few people go up in smoke once in a while than offend a few potential terrorists and sympathizers.
So I know how the script goes. We must be nice. But can we spineless, thickskinned horse's-asses please, please at least stop playing cricket with these
Those who know me some will also know that I am an atheist. So I deny myself the luxury of prayer. However, on the outside chance that I am wrong and there is really something to this god-hypothesis and reincarnation hooey, I would like to tender this prayer:
Please oh Lord of the Skies, Earth, and All Creatures Great and Small, please let me not be reborn into this pathetic, snivelling, backbone-free, self-loathing culture that I am currently a part and parcel of. Better being born the son of a panhandling bum and a homeless crack whore in a culture with a trace of respect for itself, than the son of a rich gutkha king in a prideless one.
Om.
But wait, no, that doesn't sound quite right. On closer examination, you will notice that there are several things wrong with that prayer. I noticed this too. In fact, I thought about that prayer long and hard. I slept on it. And these are the flaws I discovered with the prayer:
(a) It reeks of escapism.
(b) It does nothing for me. I am asking for a limiting of personal material comforts in my next edition by choosing to be the son of a crack whore. Not a smart move.
(c) It does nothing for my culture. My culture will not miss one petulant individual (namely, me) and therefore the above threat of abandoment will not create an incentive for my culture to change in any fundamental way.
So I thought about it and modified it. Here is the modified prayer:
Oh Lord of the Earth, Skies and Too Many Other Things to Mention Here, please do not let such horrific acts of terrorism transpire on Indian soil in the future. Or any other soil, for that matter.
But if you do--and pay close attention here--IF YOU IN YOUR INFINITE WISOM DO ALLOW THIS, please arrange it so that the next explosion, instead of just taking out nameless, unwept, disposable people who will be written off as a statistical footnote to a proxy war, also takes out the son or daughter of a very important person. Like the son of an influential newspaper editor, for instance. Or the daughter of an extremely important politician.
Let me repeat that oh Lord, in case you've forgotten to take your usual recommended dose of Ritalin today, you attention-impaired son of a bitch. The SON or DAUGHTER of an important person, not the important person himself. Taking out an important person will do no good. A Laloo will be replaced by a Paswan and we will be no better off. The one who gets killed has to be someone who holds great emotional value to an influential person.
You may ask: Why do I ask so of our attention-impa... er, dear Lord? Reason is below.
Premise A: As I write this, India is ruled by uncaring, corrupt politicians. These politicians see no need to do anything fundamental in response to random acts of terrorism. The lives of sixty odd people is negotiated cheaply over the counter without missing a beat.
Premise B: Perverse though this may sound, these same politicians are in a position to make a change. Simply by the virtue of office. You or I will not make a difference. Not in my lifetime at least; there is no criticial mass. So yes, strangely a Laloo Prasad can bring about change. But for that, a Laloo Prasad must himself change. That is a binding precondition.
Premise C: People often change in response to a massively negative external stimulus. In plain English, people react to pain. The language of pain is universally understood.
Conclusion: Those who are in a position to bring about change must suffer a direct loss to be shaken out of their apathy.
You may further ask: Is this prayer too harsh? Not really, if you think about it. All I am asking is that the sixtieth non-entity who is destined to get blown up by an improvised explosive be substituted by the offspring of an important politician. I am not asking for more bloodshed than will happen anyway. At least this way, there is a small but non-zero chance that an important politician will act. Or a newspaper will actually take a stab at forming opinion. Otherwise all you have is a meaningless and needless blood-sacrifice as happened in Delhi on October 29, in the year of our Lord two thousand and five.
i have a prayer after all
...but first some background. Before I leave for work each morning, I quickly glance at the headlines of one US newspaper and one Indian newspaper. The New York Times does it for me as far as local news goes. And since no self-respecting Indian with even half a brain will read The Times of India, I read http://www.rediff.com/ to get the lowdown on India.
This morning, I was expecting the Indian newspapers to be full of news from Delhi. I was expecting see a few reports on the explosions, perhaps some sort of writeup on the Islaami-Inquilabi Mahaz outfit, some analyses from the movers and shakers, the impact on the peace process with Pakistan, preventive measures, general outrage. Things of that nature. In short, I expected the newspapers to be in a tizzy.
I would say that this is not an unfair expectation, given that the explosions took place on Saturday evening and today is only two days later. Everyone remembers how everybody, including the Indian media, went batshit after the London blasts, yes? So I was expecting a bit of media chatter.
Here are the top headlines on rediff today:
• Dhoni demolishes Sri Lanka
• Noted Indian writer Amrita Pritam passes away
• Death penalty awarded in Red Fort attack case
• Delhi blasts toll: 62, Compensation doubled
• Did Jobs kill the iPod mini too soon?
In my opinion, it says a little something about a country and its people when the top news story two days after a terrorist attack that wipes out sixty people gushes about how wonderfully our cricket team is doing.
I was a little surprised at the general sense of calm and poise among the editors of Rediff. Then a thought crossed my mind, "Maybe the folks at Times of India, in an uncharacteristic fit of journalism, are covering this story better."
I saw the following headlines on http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/:
Suniel Shetty has a bumpy ride: Onlookers peer at the star’s imported 'Hummer'
Army rushes in to help Chennai tide over rain waters
Court reserves order on JN Yadav's bail plea
Your old pals are dead, find new ones
Gulshan Grover to beat up Bond
Indian faces racist brunt in UK
When Prince Harry dropped his pants
Nothing about the bomb blasts. Zip, zilch, nada. Then I noted that the entire web site was dated October 27. And I remembered the first commandment of journalism: A daily newspaper shalt not feel the urgency to update its web site more frequently than once a week, especially after a human tragedy.
I smacked my forehead, a little ashamed at my general lack of smarts, and moved on. I did not go very far.
My next stop was http://in.indiatimes.com/usdefault.cms, from the TOI group again, and they seemed current and up to date. I have no idea why TOI has two web sites; my guess is that they maintain one for those who are merely braindead, and the other for those who are beyond all repair. The top headlines were:
Dhoni rains sixes as India thrash Lanka
Dhoni is the king, Gilly goes for a six
In pics: hits and misses of the 3rd ODI
We have a lot more options now: Dravid
Noted writer Amrita Pritam passes away
Ms Perfect: send birthday wishes to Ash
Tabu @ 33: 33 leaves from her album [Author's Note: Whaa?]
Shahid Kapoor does a Mr India!
In the loop: 20 times sexier in desiwear
Indra Nooyi all set to lead the world
Vani Kola: an NRI success story
I will now request the few readers of my blog to join me in raising a toast to Mr. Dhoni. As you can see, he has done admirably. I moved on to Indian Express. Their web site was dated October 30. Out of time and patience, I went to work.
So where's the prayer? That comes tonight. To be continued, for sure.
This morning, I was expecting the Indian newspapers to be full of news from Delhi. I was expecting see a few reports on the explosions, perhaps some sort of writeup on the Islaami-Inquilabi Mahaz outfit, some analyses from the movers and shakers, the impact on the peace process with Pakistan, preventive measures, general outrage. Things of that nature. In short, I expected the newspapers to be in a tizzy.
I would say that this is not an unfair expectation, given that the explosions took place on Saturday evening and today is only two days later. Everyone remembers how everybody, including the Indian media, went batshit after the London blasts, yes? So I was expecting a bit of media chatter.
Here are the top headlines on rediff today:
• Dhoni demolishes Sri Lanka
• Noted Indian writer Amrita Pritam passes away
• Death penalty awarded in Red Fort attack case
• Delhi blasts toll: 62, Compensation doubled
• Did Jobs kill the iPod mini too soon?
In my opinion, it says a little something about a country and its people when the top news story two days after a terrorist attack that wipes out sixty people gushes about how wonderfully our cricket team is doing.
I was a little surprised at the general sense of calm and poise among the editors of Rediff. Then a thought crossed my mind, "Maybe the folks at Times of India, in an uncharacteristic fit of journalism, are covering this story better."
I saw the following headlines on http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/:
Suniel Shetty has a bumpy ride: Onlookers peer at the star’s imported 'Hummer'
Army rushes in to help Chennai tide over rain waters
Court reserves order on JN Yadav's bail plea
Your old pals are dead, find new ones
Gulshan Grover to beat up Bond
Indian faces racist brunt in UK
When Prince Harry dropped his pants
Nothing about the bomb blasts. Zip, zilch, nada. Then I noted that the entire web site was dated October 27. And I remembered the first commandment of journalism: A daily newspaper shalt not feel the urgency to update its web site more frequently than once a week, especially after a human tragedy.
I smacked my forehead, a little ashamed at my general lack of smarts, and moved on. I did not go very far.
My next stop was http://in.indiatimes.com/usdefault.cms, from the TOI group again, and they seemed current and up to date. I have no idea why TOI has two web sites; my guess is that they maintain one for those who are merely braindead, and the other for those who are beyond all repair. The top headlines were:
Dhoni rains sixes as India thrash Lanka
Dhoni is the king, Gilly goes for a six
In pics: hits and misses of the 3rd ODI
We have a lot more options now: Dravid
Noted writer Amrita Pritam passes away
Ms Perfect: send birthday wishes to Ash
Tabu @ 33: 33 leaves from her album [Author's Note: Whaa?]
Shahid Kapoor does a Mr India!
In the loop: 20 times sexier in desiwear
Indra Nooyi all set to lead the world
Vani Kola: an NRI success story
I will now request the few readers of my blog to join me in raising a toast to Mr. Dhoni. As you can see, he has done admirably. I moved on to Indian Express. Their web site was dated October 30. Out of time and patience, I went to work.
So where's the prayer? That comes tonight. To be continued, for sure.
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