Digging for Meaning

Outrage is a favourite emotion with the middle class. Its an easy emotion that lends beautifully as an excuse to all the violence that our position and privilege necessitates. Its an easy veil we wear to hide all our insecurities. And its an easy weapon to annihilate any opposition to our moral hegemony. So, an Indian colonist in Andaman would be outraged with the nakedness of the jarawa tribal and feel within his rights to annihilate their land, their culture, their person. So, an Indian citizen would be outraged at Kalmadi's deeds that put the 'nation to shame', while feeling proud of the 70KCrore tamasha on the screen.Like a commentor on facebook commented, 'The CWG games have made India proud. the 70K Crore bill is worth it'. how screwed up is the sense of their worth? he probably earns 70K in two months. It will take many lifetimes worth of his earning to earn that money. then how did he arrive at its worth, which is clearly not within his grasp of imaginatio...

Chapter 1. The order This is a story about a maverick government officer who was unlike any. He was driven with passion for his pledge not pennies. A pledge that all took, but few followed At the feet of powerful did most find grounds hallowed. The pledge was a looking glass that made everyone seem equal. And justice was a given, not a mirage of ‘coming soon’ sequel. But alas, the real world was none too congruent. And the supposed builders of bridges of equality were playing truant. When the majority abdicates its duties and a few uphold the ideal, the mirror of the truth is sought to be sabotaged and its shard are used to kill. Normality is enforced and differences are annihilated. Opinions are agreed upon and beamed down into gullible brains emaciated. The hero of our story was no idealistic zealot he was just a human, and felt for his lot. His conscience was not squeaky clean but questioning that conscience was his daily scene. It was just one such day, when his boss asked him to g...

Hands Such grace Creation chose the medium of creativity to be bestowed with such divine grace. They flow like water, and flap like wings. They deceive time, and deliver stillness. They break and they fuse. They play with air and water, and elements delight in their touch. They move and they feel. They are alive. They are life. They hold and they love. They fly and they jump. They nourish and they punish. They are us and they are the world. Our hands are sheer grace.