NavDharmyug

“ We live in a superficial, media-driven culture that often seems uncomfortable with true depths of feelings. It seems as if our culture has become increasingly intolerant of acute sorrow, that intense mental anguish and deep remorse which may be defined as grief. We want to meditate such sorrows away. ” – Edward Hirsch. Friday, 13 th of November, 2015, a sad, severe attack in Paris, at Bataclan concert hall and State Stadium claimed promptly by ISIS caused the death of 129 people and many more injured. As the details emerged, the gruesomeness of the attack became known about how armed gunmen fired at innocent victims, young and old, without discretion. The parallels to 26/11 in Mumbai are uncanny, which left 260 dead. The perfunctory sadness shifted quickly to justifications, with something as silly as Hijab ban by noted Indian jurist and a journalist linking it to US action in Iraq. While both could be reason, they cannot be justification. We quickly moved into the phas...

Literature helps us interpret and understand life. It helps us tolerate the aspects of life which escapes our understanding. There are words which refuse to be fossilized. There are timeless words which breathes even when buried under the dark layers of earth. That’s what we call classic, which in terms of relevance and wisdom stays untouched, unmoved, unblemished by the cruel winds of time. You sit down with them, slowly move the dust on the surface and a shining, tranquil, splendid emerald appears like a crystal ball holding all the answers to the myriad questions life throws at you. Today, we often do not have time and patience to read these classics unless you are a writer trying to learn the craft or a rare reader of refined interest. Accepted, it isn’t easy love to live with, for these words need much more than fleeting flirtation to spell out their meaning to you. They need deep dedication, a profound passion and as Nietzsche would say, “one has to be willing to wash his f...

Art without purpose is nothing but debauchery. Every piece of good literature should serve one of the two purpose- soothe the senses, clarify the social questions. As of now, in India, we consider writer returning the awards to a government which they do not like as a sign of something of an act of bravery. The fact remains that anything can only be returned to the one who has given it in the first place, the Akademy was constituted as autonomous body, probably has missed out the notice of eminent writers. Also if intent was to embarrass a government, they also missed out on the right target, which should be the government which failed in protecting the citizen, the government which holds law and order responsibility.  But then author as conscience keeper of the society is misuse of the authority a writer has over words. Since I,as a writer, have a right over print space, I declare that I am an enlightened being, more sensitive, more rebellious than ordinary mortals.  ...

A man walks into metro station, shoot himself. The story is a footnote on some inside pages of the newspaper. Even if someone reads it, it is security lapse which stands out. The dead doesn’t evoke attention, let alone sympathy. Without personalization, it is a lame news. I am not a journalist. I am not even a student of journalism in proper sense. If I go by the wise words by Anne Lamott , and analyze the reports, the intent and interest of the journalist stands open for scrutiny. A murder in Dadri, sad as it is, outcome of rumor or fact, is reported way differently from the way, the gory murder of a reporter in same state or killing of a soldier in same state is reported. Annie Lamott tells us that we need to be presented with the actors in a story with human perspective, that what they were as human beings, beyond a statistics or a name. We know the man murdered in Dadri was doing errands for the village, a soft-spoken man, who, with hard work did well to place his kids in...

Picture: Reuters “Where was Rudy’s Comfort? Who was there to soothe him as life’s rug was snatched from under his sleeping feet?...He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It is his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cries.” – (Markus Zusak “The Book Thief”) Here is Death, as the Narrator speaking about the death of fourteen year old, Rudy Steiner. Some souls weigh heavy even on death’s conscience. A dying child’s soul is like that. In a world of 24 hours news and the information oscillating between insensitive and insane, some pictures hang about on our collective conscience. The hang like gray clouds hovering over our minds, tormenting our hearts, haunting our souls. The Book Thief (above) was written about the World War II. We would want to believe that the world has move far ahead in this time. Some events pull us up from our obnoxious slumber, wrench our heart and hits our head with hammer heavy enough to crush into powder the whole behemoth of m...

Getty Images Steel Capsule Like a bullet In search of some heart, some flesh to  inflict a magnificent wound. Carrying in its womb Captives of the cubicles. Tall, Grotesque buildings Silent, watchful and unfeeling, Like gestapos, Unsmiling, glassy faces,  Cold and Smooth, on which Humanity cannot find feet ever.  We walk, fellow passengers, Like prisoners of our chosen fate. We don't look at one another when we do, accidentally we don't smile, pretending to be  the part of metallic enclosure which holds us.  The station, a solemn, bored voice  speaks at us, like a curse thrown in our direction, Phase III Metro Station, and we take out our beings A husband, a wife, a father, a mother, we take our being in our sweaty palms sweat, threatening to melt away the lines of destiny ready to barter it  for a number, a card which is our identity. Another day of  captivity to our cubicles awaits, A remorseless ...

Patriotism is the flavor of the day. Social media is fun place- an amazing place to be a patriot. The time found between visits to Cafe Coffee Day and a well-stocked fridge with supply of beer on a dry day, a strong, eloquent vocabulary makes a good post on Independence Day.  The ease of endorsement has made everything much commonplace as well. Many times I post a blog and in a split-second, I get a favorite. It is obvious that the post has not been read. I do not mind it much. It expands the reach of the post. Getting followers on a platform like Twitter is some kind of crazy algorithm and we have experts called SEO experts and Social Media Experts who understand that. But for a person to begin believing himself, or herself beyond what one is really stupid.  There is a Twitter celebrity, who at first tweet of opposition, retorts with 'Moron'. His arguments begins and ends with the word. Insult is his chosen form of debate and his followers bend down in musica...