Change

Looking back on the past 6 years, from the moment I joined college to the point where I sit on a gadda in a cluttered, semi-dark room with Arvind Kejriwal's voice blaring from a room next to mine, having eaten some over-buttered pav bhaaji and wondering if I'll relieve myself of the stress consuming my senses, I realize one simple, depressing fact.

I have changed.

Update: The last post in this series. 

Must Reads - 2013

I have a draft on a look-back at 2013 and how it went but it's still incomplete and very depressing. To brighten things up, I publish a list of my favourite books from last year. The list is a short one and consists of new releases and some old classics which I could read again. Of course, a comprehensive list of all the books I read would be a far more demanding exercise but I don't reckon you'll read past item number 25.

The selection process has no rigorous reasoning behind it so don't try to find one:

1. Manon Lescaut

The Story of Manon Lescaut was a book that instantly elicited gasps of horror from the highly polished French elite. It falls, therefore, in the same esteemed bracket as Lady Chatterley's Lover or Madame Bovary in that the book was banned months after being released.

It's about this promising young lad who's got a successful life ahead of him and who's much respected and admired in society and tipped for the big time...but he falls in love with Manon Lescaut. And therein lies the tragedy of his feverish attachment for a girl who cannot reciprocate the same fidelity as her lover. The book's only about 100 pages long so I'd definitely recommend a read online. And that is also why I desist from giving out the plot - it's too short anyway. 

One of the reasons why avid readers devour the classics is to experience that belittling realization - that for all the technological progress in getting to the moon and making energy from chunks of glow-in-the-dark rocks we haven't changed much when it comes to our emotions and actions. Manon Lescaut was published by Abbe Provost in the 1700's but readers will find too many parallels with contemporary novels and more importantly, with actual life.

Read the book and shake your head at the frailty of human determination in the face of baser instincts. Some things will never really change.

2. Waking the Giant

Topping my list of non-fiction books is Bill McGuire's very intriguing work on the effect of climate change on increasing the likelihood of earthquakes, volcanoes and other natural disasters. That's right, Waking the Giant is a review of the research done by scientists to discover possible links between, say, rising sea level and an increase in tsunamis. It turns out there is a constantly expanding body of literature on the subject. One of the difficulties of geology is that you can't really know exactly how the earth will behave to external forcings and it's even more difficult to judge exactly when the effects would start surfacing. McGuire does a neat job of picking analogous circumstances from the planet's geological history and builds a thought-provoking case for a consideration of the earth's sensitivities to the eventual outcomes of more carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. It's very readable and a good way of brushing up your basics on the geological periods.

3. Civilization and its Discontents

Statutory warning: Reading Freud might be injurious to your mental acuity. If you feel you're hanging over the abyss already and would rather not want to tip over, don't read this book. You'll never come back out. 

I debated over the choice of Civilization and Its Discontents on my list because it's dangerous stuff - the best time to read it is actually when you're very happy in life. There is a chance, then, that you might escape its endless mind-warping implications. I ended up including the book because I am generally surprised at the condescension most people show to Freud without ever having read a lot more than the Oedipus (or Electra) complex.

First things first. Freud was a genius. I've chosen this book because it is again a little less than 100 pages long but you only need to read it to realize how meticulous and careful Freud was in building his case. He is persuasive and uncomfortably correct when it comes to how we think of the world. He only proceeds to take those axioms to their logical conclusions. It gets difficult because you have to spend a lot of time understanding the underlying assumptions behind the ideas and then it might only end up convincing you even more.

Briefly, the book deals with the concept of the individual's inner antagonism against the concept of civilization. It dwells on how the evolution of civilization actually ended up shackling man and made him, to put it simply, sad. I'm not only talking about libido here and there's a lot more you'll end up learning including the prospect of the ultimate clash between Eros and the masochistic self-destructive human impulse. Yup, it's that simple. 

4. The Last Guardian

I wrap up with a moment of personal indulgence and inexpressible, exorbitant grief. Artemis Fowl, a childhood companion, a personal idol and an inspiration will cease to exist. Artemis Fowl...deserves a separate blog post. 

Must read series.

The book falls short of coming anywhere close to the better ones in the series but read it for the memories and a final, maddeningly fleeting glimpse of the criminal boy genius.

Worth a brief mention: I re-read Dracula. Horror has never again been so classy; A collection of short-stories by Herman Melville included the poignant tale, Bartleby; Henry James wrote several complex, detailed and indisputably beautiful short stories. Daisy Miller is a must read.

What was your favourite book last year? I'd love to know...

H

Some thoughts after today's final

After Friday's semifinal match, most people had already handed over the Norman Brookes Challenge Cup to Rafa Nadal. With reason. His supreme command against Roger Federer was astonishing and only an entrenched fool could not give some credit to the devastating, utterly unremitting Spanish bull that he is on these occasions. Federer may be a player way beyond his peak (and 32) but even his best would have had many issues in dealing with Nadal's form that night.

The final was a significant match, in hindsight. A win at the 2014 Australian Open would have brought Nadal at 14 Grand Slams, matching Pete Sampras¹ but crucially also giving the Spaniard at least two wins at every Major in the circuit. The French Open would have been next and it would take a brave man, even now, to bet against him. It's not a wild assumption that most journalists would already have begun a long, winding account of the greatness of Nadal and the way he was surely on his way to becoming the undisputed greatest of all time much before the match began.

Except none of this materialized.

Stanislas Wawrinka played the match of his life. For one hour or so, he was bludgeoning balls and had completely outplayed and outmatched Nadal. The back injury, when it came, was a factor only later. Wawrinka earned the title. Improbably he becomes the first man in over twenty years to beat the top two seeds en route to winning the Australian Open. And lest we forget, today he beat a man against whom he had never won a single set in all their previous 12 meetings.

You would still tip Nadal to win many more Majors. But the match brings many more facts into perspective. To remain injury free is just as important as playing on an incredibly high level. As much as we may generate sympathy for Rafa, his constant inability to remain fit will become as important a factor as anything else when the final verdict on him is given. Injuries cannot be slotted in the category of mere bad luck - they are as much the responsibility of a tennis player as his/her backhand. The way Nadal plays is nothing short of astounding and it's true there are very few people who can beat him when he plays his best (the only exception must be handed over to Djokovic who beat Nadal very convincingly in his magical 2011 season which stretched next year to a very close 2012 French Open semi-final between the two).

The question in my mind really goes like this: How much longer will Rafa play his attritional gruelling brand of tennis? And how much more will his body take before we see his decline?

The decline will come. Of that we can be sure. Rafa Nadal is soon to be 28 years of age. He has two years by my guess to win his Slams. His body will crumble before his game does.

If I'm wrong, then I'll have no qualms about calling him the GOAT.

1: I think's that's why he was called to present the trophy tonight in anticipation of Nadal's feat. This is exactly what happened when Federer won his 14th in the 2009 Wimbledon.

Don't read this

The blog that was to be a territory of erudition and enlightenment has metamorphosed to a sad and pathetic animal lying half dead in front of you. Wouldn't it be better to just pull the plug?

Unfortunately, I'm a sucker for second chances and the blog will regain a fresh lease. We shall again try to tap in the vast and chaotic whirlpool of stuff that I do. And we begin with some memorable words from Yeats,

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Yeats wrote the above poem purportedly to describe post-War Europe but notice how the lines are readily applicable for today's world. Orwell did say (and I paraphrase) that every generation is in war with the last. Deeply held conventions are uprooted mercilessly. Debates that were clinched by axioms are no longer as easy as they were before. The axioms become mere opinions, and the opposite view has to be accepted as another opinion to be respected.

Of course, it shouldn't really be all that bad. The problem that I see is the fact that people hardly use facts to argue. Their stand is based on hear-say and their arguments based on a natural extension of their thinking patterns. I have intelligent friends who believe some things should exist simply because they are logical. But they don't. It was Cicero, I think, who said that logic is the last and weakest tool of a debater because it doesn't convince people as emotions do. I have other friends who have an orthodox set of beliefs and every act is based on the verity of these "indisputable cornerstones". Their judgement attains acceptance because of their success.

Is that a contradiction for the traditional debater?

Debates are artificial environments. They're rings where there are rules to be followed. It is a cult in a broader sense. For who can say if logic is the way the human world works. It has become fashionable to use irrational behaviour in economics and Kahneman won a Nobel for proving that we don't think straight.

It is essential but challenging to raise a routine individual's level to a logical base to argue. It's impossible for the masses. Underneath the mask of good intentions is a selfish beast that feels jealousy and threat; it attacks the enemy to attain dominance. To get past all that one has to assume that one can convince the opposition to argue with logic. What if they refuse?

This isn't a far fetched concept. Here's an analogy. As the system of more equality of opportunity arises for, say the middle class in India, the more is the scope to disparage previously held notions of class, propriety and art. The obvious fuel that charges these proponents in their thinking? Success. Success essentially means money and those who have money are assumed to be far more intelligent, far wiser and far more capable of giving advice than those who aren't having so much with themselves.

(Are you now mounting the thought that I must be a failure in life and this blog post is the result of pent up disgruntlement? My point exactly.)

So, the current craze for exercise and fitness can be analyzed socially as an accessible way of attaining social acceptance within a clan of people who cannot think about learning another language (physically boring), singing (high investment; late returns) and heaven forbid, going to a museum (what?!). It's much better to go out trekking.

Is this my stand? Hardly.

I'm a disgrace to the whole concept of taking a stand. I'd love to go out cycling but I might just enjoy time in front of the canvas too. I do want to know why we're talking more about fitness these days. And I'd love to know why people put the "you're too judgemental" clause when they're being analyzed.

And about being analyzed. Can you have a frame of reference?

Can you get out of this world and judge anything? Is logic really sacrosanct?

How random was that post?

Sadly...

The chances are remote that this blog will ever grow to up to see what it was once destined to be.

The Search for a New Superhero

I know of friends who feel disoriented and depressed without keeping a crush. The harmless sort; the ones way above your league and who can hardly reciprocate the same frantic breathlessness that they experience in the chosen crush's proximity. Some of the idiots I know have managed to get hooked irreversibly to the said seemingly unreachable target - often a tragic outcome of completely misjudging (1) their own true level or (2) the desperation of the guy/girl who had been a single loser for years.

I like to invoke a similar shameful obsession, and that's to think of my idols.

My list is not unique. I am certain friends in my own circle share my favourites. And I have written about them occasionally not only on this blog but also on other media. On days when I feel down or when I really don't feel like going out or reading a book, when I don't feel like expressing my views on the latest debate on facebook (that's the state of affairs these days), I close my eyes and recall...an exquisite off-backhand from Roger, or a flick of the hand from Michael, or an on-drive from Sachin's bat or a birdie from Tiger at the US Masters, or the beauty and layered complexity of Artemis' ingenious plan or the fine strokes of genius on Leonardo's notebooks or a jugalbandi between Bhimsen Joshi and Rashid Khan or a Bach composition or some immortal lines from Byron...for that time, whether sprawled on my bed after a hard day at the office or sitting in a boring routine party, I lose track of time. I lose track of the world. I feel ecstatic and almost constantly belittled.

It's only natural that the heroes you grow up with rear their ugly imperfections sooner rather than later. In the case of sports persons, there is a power decline that is painful to watch. The older maestros retain their magic but it's difficult to extract a sense of exhilaration or addictive climax. And then, they will retire. I envy the people who support teams in the various football leagues for this reason. Even if United fans eventually face the heartbreak of becoming a mid-table team, they can live out their lives with a love that was borne out of passionate romance in the time of great success. Yeah, it actually works like that.

(As I write this piece, Roger is losing, somewhat expectedly, to Rafa Nadal. Nadal is rock solid as usual but it's Roger who's making the crucial mistakes)

Michael Jackson is long dead and Artemis Fowl has run his course on the print circuit. I need someone who can surprise and inspire me again.

The GOAT

So, who's going to be my next living idol?

Change

For far too long have I carried the insufferable burden of the past.

I have punished my senses incessantly over my transgressions. Subjugated my true nature in the name of compromise. For far too long have I concealed the evils that have beleaguered my life. Misfortunes have plagued me; I refuse to rot in the muck anymore.

Pain is a wise teacher. It is a cruel teacher. It is when you are an inch away from dementia and permanent neurosis that you receive the lesson which disengages your mind from the fiction of urgency. From the illusion of goodness.

I have found myself again.