Sounds of Silence

A few days back, at Pune, I was trying to park my car in a slot that was empty, suddenly a man started yelling at me telling me that he was standing there to ensure that the spot remains vaccant for his boss' car. His behaviour was so crass it left me dumbfounded. I have started wondering, where has all the old world charm gone, when to be courteous was considered an hallmark of good breeding. We have always been taught to never raise our voice. When ever I go to a public place, the loudness, be it of music, or of the non stop chatter of the youngsters simply makes me sick. 

Our festivals just cannot be celebrated without a dose of high decibel, ear splitting, music and fireworks. Our leaders, simply cannot make a point, without shouting or throwing histrionic tantrums. 

We have to just look at nature, to see how it achieves the most wonderful miracles, with not so much as a whimper. Emily Diciknson, in her poem "Nature, The Gentlest Mother"  describes this trait touchingly.

Is all this aggression really good for all of us as a society? Is gentleness no more a virtue? Will the "Sound of Silence" never whisper to us the wisdom of the profound? I can only wonder!

Saint Venant's Principle And Our Insignificance

We are all so absorbed by the happenings around us, that we feel, the events happening "Now" and "Here" are the ones which matter at all. Have we ever paused to think, what significance, these events will have, if we view them from a vantage point far removed in space and time?

We are tickled by the "Accountant-Businessman" in St. Exupery's "The Little Prince", who does not have a moments respite from his occupation of counting and enumerating stars, which he believes will belong to him, once he has recorded them in his ledger. This seems humorous to us, because we think of stars as too far away to be owned by any one. Pondering on this a little deeper, we can understand how utterly insignificant we and are affairs are, when viewed on the cosmological scale, and our insatiable desire to "own" is ludicrous indeed.

Study of "Cause" and "Effect" has occupied human thought through the ages. When ever the causal link could be established with a degree of certainty, we have cried "Eureka". At other times we have been stupefied at "disproportionate" effects of small causes. The title from the seminal paper by Edward Lorenz, "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil Set Off a Tornado in Texas?" succinctly called the "Butterfly Effect", describes the import of small triggers in causal relationships in chaotic systems .

In Structural Mechanics, which is a study of "Loads" and their effect on "Structures", predictions would have been extremely difficult, but for the "Saint Venant's Principle", which essentially states in layman's language that, at distances sufficiently far from the actual area of application of load, the "type" of load is immaterial, only its "value" matters.

In our lives too, we can see the principle at work. When ever we are faced with a situation, where we feel cornered, we can get solace, by just remembering, that as time passes, all that is happening will have no significance at all. If we get the perspective right, every thing seems insignificant, and we realise, how puny, we and our actions are.

Bridges not Walls

From Miraj, a small town in South Maharashtra, till recently, ran a narrow gauge line to Pandharpur, a famous Vaishnav pilgrim place, visited by millions of devotees from all over India. The Railway line was commissioned way back in 1927, and was called "Barshi Light", the train was popularly nicknamed "God's Vehicle" (Devachi Gadi") . For over three fourths of a century, it carried the "Vithal" devotees, who would bear all hardships for just a sight of the smiling idol. The train took all day to travel a distance of 135 KM. Yet people went.

Times change and, the old has to make way for the new. With the Indian Railways deciding on a single Broad Gauge for all tracks, through out India, it was inevitable that this Narrow Gauge line would have to be up graded.

This line went over several bridges, most of them were beautiful masonry arch bridges, built from dressed quartzite stone using lime mortar.

It must have been fascinating indeed, for our ancestors to cross a rapidly flowing stream, using a log, which had luckily fallen across the stream, and at the same time was long enough to have "bridged" it.

Bridges have fascinated us ever since. From the simplest ones to those that are no less than monuments, great testimonials, indeed, to our ingenuity and sheer grit.

Today a Bridge is not just a structure, which helps us cross physical barriers, but has entered our daily lexicon, as a facilitator which helps us cross all barriers, including emotional ones. The famous line from a song sung by Simon and Garfunkel, "Like a Bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down". comes to my mind.

One such bridge, near Miraj, though not a great monument, but certainly having it's own identity, and charm, never failed to gladden my heart, for it's sheer beauty. I felt proud, that I belonged, to a profession, which could create some thing so nice, out of mundane materials like stone and lime.

Alas this bridge too will have to go. It simply cannot take on, the heaver and faster trains, that will soon start running on the new line. I know for sure, the bridge, that will replace this beautiful one, will be an ugly concrete structure, sans any individuality. It will certainly be functional, but will not warrant a second glance. Forget creating aspirations, in the minds of the viewers.

I have always wondered, at the "vanishing", of the Cheshire cat in Lewis Carrol's "Alice's Adventures in Wonder Land". The cat disappears, but the grin on it's face lingers on, prompting Alice to reflect that, "I have seen a cat without a grin, but not a grin, without a cat".

I hope, when the Bridge is gone, the aspirations it created still linger on.
And one day when better times return, we learn to build, beautiful structures again, the sight of which, will make our heart leap with happiness.

As Yousuf Raza Gillani, Prime Minister of Pakistan, recently said, in a different context, India and Pakistan should build "Bridges" and not "Walls".

The Tide of Fortune

I have always prided myself of being a rationalist to the core, and any mention of providence or fate or luck has always been anathema.

During our college days we played a game of cards, popularly called "Flush", it is a pure game of chance, with no claims to even an iota of skill, except an ability on the part of the player, to keep cool and reveal nothing by way of body language. A game very well suited, indeed, for hard core gambling. Off course our meagre resources, in those parsimonious times, did not permit us fancy stakes, so we played with small change.

I being a non-smoker had passed a diktat, that my room-mate shall not smoke in the room. He got back at me, by insisting that no gambling take place in our room. Off course there was no dearth of rooms in the hostel, where our game was always welcome. Some times the host would not play at all, but the sheer thrill of fortunes (if at all those meagre sums could be addressed thus!) being made and lost, was a treat, not to be missed.

My grounding in Mathematics had taught me, what the probabilities would be, of drawing various combinations for a hand of Three cards, so playing "blind", or asking for "show" or "quiting" were decisions not too difficult to make. My demeanour too, being of a somber type, my opponents, by watching me, could never glean the true strength of my hand. In short I was a fairly adept gambler.

Thankfully, as my grades dropped that semester, I quit "Flush" altogether. We shifted to the more brainy "Rubber Bridge".

One aspect of "Flush", though, has always haunted me. Probability had taught me that over a period of time, all players have the same chance of getting "good" or "bad" cards. Strangely my observations were contrary! If it is your day, you would go on getting good cards, and if it wasn't your day you would go on getting bad cards, game after game.And to beat it, on such bad days, even if you happened to get good cards, either your opponents would just quit, making the pile of winnings meagre, or someone would come up with a highly improbable set of better cards, not only taking away the winnings, but adding hurt to injury, as higher stakes were put on the table commensurate with the good hand.

I know a rationalist would dispute this by saying that the game has to go on for a sufficiently long time to get the "equalising" effect of probability. But the moot point is for how long?

In life too, I have observed, that more than any thing else, it is a fortuitous quirk of fate, which is the doing or undoing of one's destiny.

Shakespeare has called it a "tide". ("There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures".)

We all know how quirky tides are, this one too, is no exception, and to beat it, it never comes announced, any way how are we to know, that when it comes, it is the right one indeed.

Here comes destiny!

Fear of God

Intellectuals have disputed quite vehemently, the existence of God as we know Him (Prophets have made the world believe that it is a Him, and not a Her or a It, most of us Indians being pan-theists believe in Him, Her & also It). Although we would like to believe, that we believe in God out of Love, the plain truth is that this belief comes from Fear.

Every day as I drive to work, I cross an abandoned Industrial Unit, and cannot but feel dismayed at the way it has been rampaged. I have seen it systematically been stripped of all its machines, then its furniture, then its doors and windows and even the tiles. Today the structure stands desolate, waiting to be pilfered further and one day there will be nothing remaining.

In the same compound there stands a small temple,( this was built by the owners of the industry, in better times). Strangely not a rafter of this temple has been touched by the pilferers of the adjoining building!

Fear & Fear alone is at work here.

Hadn't I Said "Elections Are For Those Well Endowed"

The poling for the elections is just over for our constituency(23 rd. April), and all (more so the contestants) are waiting with bated breaths for the results which will be on the 16th. May. I missed being the hyper-tensed guy by just a whisker, and I am not exactly sad for it.
Some times life gets quite dramatic, and this time I was the main protagonist. Around 3 PM on April 3rd. I got a call from the BJP chief of Maharashtra, Nitin Gadkari, informing me that I had been nominated by the party and should file my nominations the next day, which was the last day for filing of nominations. All my resistance melted in a jiffy and I immediately began the process, which by no means is easy, specially the affidavit giving property status has to be accurate and needs the help of a C.A. I also contacted all the key party functionaries and arranged for a good show of unity.


4th April. I filed my nomination along with all the paraphernalia that is common during such occasions. As soon as I got out from the office, I was surrounded by the media. To my surprise, I was asked whether I was a serious contender, as a Congress rebel, Ajit Ghorpade, who had filed as an independent just before me had declared that I would be asked to withdraw by the BJP, which would then support him. The idea was so far fetched that I ridiculed the reporter for asking such a question. That same evening we had a meeting of all the main party workers to chalk out the campaign logistics.


5th. April. The whole day I spent visiting "Key" Voters. These are important people working in various fields, from a cross section of society. They are the main opinion makers and it is indeed surprising, to see the impact of their opinions on the voting pattern in their respective areas of influence.


6th. April. The process of scrutinising went off without problem and my nomination was declared valid along with 23 other nominations. In the afternoon I first realised that certain key party functionaries were not seriously participating in the Campaign planning, and soon it became apparent that what the Congress rebel Ajit Ghorpade had declared on the day of filing of nominations was indeed true. I was flabbergasted at the treachery, but decided that I wouldn't go without a fight. I got the news that Two important party functionaries, Madhu Chavan and Sunil Karjatkar, were to come the next day from Mumbai and ask me to withdraw. I immediately contacted the party leaders in Mumbai and Delhi, who confirmed the news, but advised me not to submit my withdrawal form in a hurry, as they were trying their best to change the decision. I was in a quandary as all my ground level supporters were vociferously insisting that I should not withdraw. As 7th. was a public holiday (Mahaveer Jayanti), if at all the withdrawal would have to be done it would have to be on the 8th. April, by 3.00 PM which was also the deadline to do so.


7th. April. After discussing the matter with family and colleagues, I decided to go underground! Around 10 AM, I shut off all my mobiles and went incommunicado. To remain untraceable (The Congress rebel had contacts with the top honchos in the police and it would be quite easy for them to find me). I changed my car three times and went to the neighbouring state of Karnataka. I headed for my friends place in Belgaum, where I spent the next 24 Hrs. keeping in touch, only with my most confidential colleagues and my cousin Abasaheb who was doing all the talking on my behalf. Around 4 PM I got the news that the two emissaries had arrived by a chartered flight, and were desperately trying to locate me. I also got the news that they were not carrying any written instructions for me from the party president to withdraw. I was disturbed as withdrawing without a written letter from the party chief, would cast aspersions about my integrity in the minds of ordinary voters. I sent the emissaries a message that I needed the instructions to withdraw in writing from none else than the party chief. This was met with resistance as they wanted me to withdraw without bringing in the party chief. I flatly refused to do so. They were getting more and more desperate, they even went to Mhaisal, and met Varsha, my wife, she bravely told them that she simply did not know my where abouts. Till late at night I was in constant touch with my Delhi contacts.


8th April. Around 11 AM I got the message from Delhi that nothing was possible and that the decision to support the Congress rebel was final. The saving grace was that the Maharashtra Party chief, Nitin Gadkari would send me a personal letter requesting me to withdraw. I got the letter by FAX by noon. By this time tension had mounted to a crescendo, and even bets were being placed on my withdrawal. A huge crowd had collected at the Revenue Office to see what happens. Those who would benefit by my withdrawal and those who would benefit by my not withdrawing were in a frenzy, and tempers were running high. I got the news that my supporters had collected near the office to physically prevent me from withdrawing. There was a tiff between my supporters and my opponents and security personnel were deployed to prevent any untoward incident. I finally decided to withdraw, but I felt it prudent not to go there in person. I deputed my cousin Abasaheb with my authority letter and he finally submitted my withdrawal just five minutes before 3.00 pm the deadline.
The next days papers all carried the news in headlines, as it is not everyday that a National Party like the BJP, withdraws it's candidate in favour of an independent and that too a rebel from a rival party. (Pioneer, Hindustan Times, Times of India)

Ordinary citizens wonder, why good candidates do not come forward ? Which sensible person would want to expose himself/herself to such an ordeal, when even the so called good political parties indulge in the worst form of political intrigue, which is sans all principles.

Elections Are For Those Well Endowed

General Elections have been announced by the Election Commission and the frenzy has begun. I contested the 2004 elections from Sangli Parliamentary constituency on the BJP ticket but could not make it, I was runner up and the margin too wasn't too large. Due to the unfortunate demise of Prakash Patil (the Congress MP who defeated me), a by-election was held in 2006. Though not too keen to do so, I did contest again, with the result of I being defeated once more, this time, by Prakash Patil's son Pratik.(In India sympathy always reigns supreme). Now, for the forthcoming polls, though I havn't shown any keen desire to contest, the local news papers, seem to have taken my candidature for granted. Since the last couple of days my phone hasn't stopped ringing, every one whom I know (or dont know, for that matter) wants to advise me.
Elections are a difficult proposition. It's like putting yourself on the firing line. Your visibility increases a thousand fold. One needs to keep a constant vigil on every word that may escape the lips, any slip would mean certain defeat. All actions must be carefully choreographed, much like a trapeze on a "tight rope", one wrong move and you had it. And the worst part is that oodles and oodles of resources need to be blown up, without so much as a whimper. In fact you must thoroughly enjoy the prospect of making a heap of lots and lots of your hard earned savings, gently put a match to it, and see it all go to smoke and ashes.
No wonder as years pass, fewer and fewer ordinary citizens would be in a position to contest, only those well endowed ( both with muscles and deep deep pockets) would remain in the fray. For the time being I am keeping my fingures crossed.
"Jai Ho".

True Greatness Remains Unacknowledged

The Marathi daily "Sakal" (सकाळ ) has a local edition published for Sangli District. On the occasion of the 25th. Anniversary, of this edition, celebrated on the 24 th. of Jan 2009, the Daily published a special supplement, "Sinhasan"(सिंहासन ). It was supposedly meant to give it's readers a panoramic view of the politics of the district, both past and present. One thing that struck me, was how the present and a forecasted future, distorts the past. The supplement highlighted only those past personalities, and their achievements, whose heirs are at present, or in future likely to be, adorning positions of importance. All those who were the real heroes were conveniently forgotten. My thoughts were turned to all the history that we had studied so sincerely as children, and believed so ardently, when all the time, the so called history we were reading was of 'history makers', who were not only engaged in the "making" of history, but also in ensuring that they would be given due recognition, by generations to come. Those who were not diligent in documenting their own achievements, had at least, to have heirs who would do the necessary, if they or their achievements were to be remembered at all.
I some times wonder, why society puts the victorious and the successful, on such high pedestals, when we know that their victory or success, was more due to providence, or the fortuitous turn of events. If at all credit need be given, it should be given to all those millions who have really contributed (including also, those who were vanquished, or were unsuccessful in their attempts).

I bow my head to all those countless soldiers and ordinary people, past and present, whose names will never make it to any history document, or whose memorial would never adorn any street square, nor a bard sing paeans in their honour.