The Castaway Nomad

...On the morning of February 5th, I found myself on a whole new island. You tend to become indifferent to places when you move a lot, see a lot, observe a lot. This, however, was not a destination I had picked, and I could feel a sense of, for the lack of a better word, trouble. Once a nomad, always a nomad, I began my exploration of the new island only to find that this one was as deserted as the deserts that I had been travelling in. To be honest, I was comforted by the presence of this pattern initially. However, problems have begun to surface lately. To have a clearer understanding of the trouble, I suppose it would be good if I gave a brief account of how things were before I arrived here and also as to how I got here. 

Before the boat wreck brought me here I was travelling in the deserts of the mainland. You develop a certain kind of connection between you and your surrounding when both have something in common. I was never a believer of time and I could feel the same about the sands around me. And so I travelled far and wide, without any sense of urgency until I met a tribe of people who told me about this vast body of water called the ocean. It was water, after all, that got me moving in the first place. I found myself giving in to the temptation of exploring this vast body of water and decided to head in the direction of the ocean, picking up things along the way that would come in handy for this new experience. What the tribesmen forgot to tell me about was the dangers that came with the ocean. So on a bright sunny day when the water seemed calm, I set out to sail. The water seemed as timeless as the sand and again I travelled wide into the ocean, far from the mainland. And then the last thing I remember, I was caught up in a storm that had me struggling for days before my boat gave in to the wrath of the ocean and I was swept ashore here.

Perhaps nobody knows better than a nomad that there comes a time when the place you seek shelter in runs out of resources that sustain your existence and that is the place's way of telling you to look for a new haven. This brings me to the trouble that I mentioned. The main challenge that an island poses is not survival but the resistance against the craving for mainland. If you look at it that way, there are hardly any modes of escape, unless you are a trained seafarer and you know how to make rafts and boats. I, however, am a seasoned nomad of the mainland and I can't think of an escape route through the ocean that surrounds this island. That is my trouble. I climb the highest cliff on this island everyday to look for an approaching ship. I scream at the top of my voice from the cliff in order to hear my voice echo through the hills and make believe that I am not the only one here. To be fair, that has been the only thing that has helped me after the island started showing signs of denunciation towards me. The adversity I am sure has shaped my ideas better than my journeys through the deserts on the mainland but I believe my time to move to a new place has come, if only my destiny allows me to get out of here alive...

A wanderer of deserts, farer of the sea

Craves to embark on a new journey 

If all they say about hope is true

Where is his ship and where is the crew?

Blog! What?

A new found interest in the libertarian philosophy saw me creating another blog enthusiastically titled, "The Liberty Mill". With "The Liberty Mill" I tried putting down an amateur account of whatever I had read (and continue to read), and share it with people because that is something that I felt was needed to be shared and promoted. Now, for the promotion purpose, I created a facebook page for the blog. Problem? Well, I do have a good circle of friends and tend to make a lasting impression on people I meet but I would not really describe myself as a people's person. When it came to sending out the invites, I found it too embarrassing to ask people to 'like' the page when all that my blog had was probably one article that I had written as an introduction to the blog. However, I did send out a few invites to close friends asking them to 'like' the page and stay updated on the blog. I also shared the link to my blog on my facebook timeline for anyone else who might be interested.

Three months into the creation of the blog, I find it with just three posts (one each for every month). While this is no desperate call, it has been rather disappointing for me not to have been able to find the mantra to keep people coming to visit my blog. As a result, I could never keep up the enthusiasm alive. I have invited suggestions from friends who run comparatively more successful blogs and websites and I have been asked to make it 'fun'. Again, I do not see the point in posting plagiarized fun pictures or jokes on my blog when the sole purpose of the blog is to promote the idea and the philosophy of liberty through what I am apparently good at - writing. I have had the privilege to write and present research papers at conferences in different places. I'm not sure how many people read what I had written or if it was even worthy of being called a contribution to knowledge as we know it, but that has been a more satisfying experience for me than the story of my blogging experience.

Why am I posting all this on this blog? Because this thought process marks the return of the nomad! I would take a break from posting all the amateur content on "The Liberty Mill" and focus my attention on learning and academic writing till I get the knack to attract audiences for political literacy, if not by writing then by other means. Until then, for the adventure of it, hoping for a world without borders! :)

Hobby of the Masses: Music

"I live on music" would be quite of an over statement because it so happens in my case that I exist more because of food and water. But yes sir, I do follow music like anything. In a recent incident when people were being asked about their hobbies, 99.9% answered that their prime hobby was "listening to music". The person asking the question did not seem to be impressed with this "common" hobby; I could, to some extent, make out what was so disappointing about this answer.

A sad but true fact: people around us are inherently lazy. Most people are likely to be either busy or asleep. Being awake is being busy for most of the people, the rest of us struggle with finding what we know as "hobbies". Some people read, some do gardening, some collect stamps, some write, and the remaining (99.9%): we 'listen' to music. I would however like to distinguish myself from the average listener who won't be able to tell you what genre he likes. On being asked about the artist, he will show total ignorance. On being asked about the lyrics, he will show a lack of understanding. On being asked about what actually pleases him about a certain kind of music, he will tell you it's the tempo or the beats without knowing precisely what it means.

I am, on the other hand, a bit more categorical about music. I listen to whatever pleases me and at the same time ensure that I am aware of the details I talked about just now. A friend of mine recently told me that I had a song for every occassion. Quite pestering my voice could be but I did realize after it was brought to my notice that in every conversation I found one song that would apply to the situation. So, I sing till I am tolerated, sometimes joined by others, sometimes stoned by others. 

So what was the whole purpose of writing all this? Let's see, although it may sound a little stupid but music has proved to have a healing touch. It must be taken in, imbibed into the soul. Music must be "listened to" and not "heard of". Music is an expression of a thought, it should be understood like a piece of conversation, like a book read well. If such is the approach to music, I think it well deserves to be called a hobby.    

Maturing With Mumbai

I had the pleasure of being in Mumbai last Sunday after almost a year. Leaving the city at night as I boarded the train back to Vadodara, I had a flashback of the first memories of the city. My first trip to Mumbai was in April 2004 when my sister and I accompanied my father to Mumbai. Living in the northern part of the country, Mumbai had always seemed to fascinate me. So, as the milestones on the road started reading 50,40,30 km and so on, that city popped out of nowhere, and from the car window I saw those huge towering structures, the ones we see in "big" cities. There were luxurious cars on the road, quite fashionable people, youngsters with their girlfriends on their bikes - a scene too fascinating for a boy aged 12 from a city in the so-called North. I went to Mumbai on a few more occasions in the next year, again accompanied by my father. This time I looked to get a glimpse of a film star, not sure if it was really him, but I guess I saw Ritesh Deshmukh somewhere. 

In the year 2006 when the flood hit Mumbai, I happened to be in Panvel for a school camp. As we travelled from Panvel to Mumbai Central in a BEST bus, I had a glimpse of what is called Resilient Mumbai. It was quite an experience to see how the people of a city who remain indifferent even to their neighbours had come out to help when time had called for it. My first visit to South Mumbai happened to come much later in January 2008. It was the day of the Mumbai Marathon and traffic was not allowed on the road, so we walked from CST and reached Marine Drive, sat there for a while, I found the city less crowded for once.

2009-10 was the period when I figured out the city much by myself. I had to make excursions to the city almost after every fortnight in order to take mock tests. Until now I had always come by road, so I did not have any idea about how the transport in the city worked. On one or two occasions I hired a cab or auto rickshaw, and then it was my turn to experience the city's lifeline - the local trains. The more I travelled on my own, the more places I figured out, the more people I met, the better feeler I got. 

Sitting on the Marine Drive under a moonlit sky at 10 PM last Sunday, I realized I now knew the city better. Seeing celebrities or the lustre of the city was no longer important. Fascinations had drowned but the charm of the city remained intact. I could feel that in a subtle way, the city had emboldened me, taught me what reality meant, gave me ambition, and slowly but steadily, imparted a little of what I call wisdom.

Lust For Lokpal: My Stand

I don't think I'll find a day better than this to put forward my view and my stand on the Lokpal Bill and on Annaji, as I feel more patriotic than ever in the run up to the Independence day!

Anna Hazare took the country by storm as he sat on his fast-unto-death to have the Lokpal Bill enacted as soon as possible and to have all the PJ Thomases, A Rajas and Kalmadis brought to book. Fight against corruption began after the emphatic World Cup '11 win by India. Millions joined in, media covered it like anything, status updates flooded the news feeds and pages were made on facebook. Ann-shann became the talk of the town.

When I first heard Anna Hazare was going on the fast, I followed it like I would follow any other piece of news. As people joined in, I grew more inquisitive. On going through the details, I grew against the Lokpal. Why I am against the Lokpal is because it will create a parallel bureaucracy, putting the government and the general public in hassles. Team Anna would put in every effort to prove me wrong by saying that it will be directly accountable to the public but then they must realize every government machinery is indeed, and in ideal conditions, accountable to the people. The idea of Lokpal then becomes cynical and naive. Cynical, because it does not trust the system of administration; naive because nobody can ensure that the Lokpal itself will be corruption-free. If you love your country, the lust for Lokpal will seem unhealthy.

It would be quite appropriate to say that Anna Hazare's integrity is unquestionable but then the government cannot just give in to every angry old man's demand! I would rather like to to see reforms being carried out in what we already have to check corruption. Get the CBI and CVC working to their fullest. Make the government machinery more easily accessible. Enforcement is, after all, more necessary than enactment. And how long, I ask, would we need a law to guide our conscience? Be honest, preach honesty. That's the best you can do for your country. Have faith in the system and in the Constitution that has been designed by learned patriots and freedom fighters. This democracy is as equally yours as Anna Hazare's and as a parliamentarian put it, it faces it's worst peril from the unelected and the unelectable. Choose and vote for the right people, India will prosper. Jai Hind!

The Kolkata Experience

I had not been blogging because of my preoccupations with the work for which I was in Calcutta (Kolkata). This blog post is an account of my experience, keeping the purpose of my visit under cover. Here goes the city, Kolkata or Calcutta whatever you please:

My train entered the Howrah Railway station a few hours later than the actual arrival, which is not really a new thing here in India. I stepped out of the train and after having followed the crowd for a while on the biggest railway station I have seen, I found my own way towards the prepaid taxi booth, hired one of Calcutta's classic Yellow Cab and moved out of the station premises. From the place where I could see the gigantic Howrah Bridge, I could also find myself in a traffic jam. And then started the drizzle as the taxi driver played FM on the radio which would change stations automatically every time the ignition was turned on amid the traffic jam. I reached my place of stay in an hour watching the drizzle, the ruckus in the streets and sights of men at work in a state that has seen virtually no economic growth in the past few years.  After an hour's nap, I moved out to get a feeler, so I walked to wherever my feet took me, tasted food which I was ecstatic to find cheap and tasty at the same time. Came back to my room, slept like a log.

The next day I dedicated to what I call "sight seeing". So I had my backpack ready and the weather Gods seemed happy. It was humid but all in all fine. I used the metro rail service to get to Park Street. Disembarking from the train, I decided to walk in the vicinity and found the Victoria Memorial and other few landmarks. Concrete structures don't really please me but the whole thing was nice. Then I took the city bus, the trams, the cycle rickshaw to reach places I had never heard names of before. 

The next day was the day for work. The thing got over in the evening and the same night I left Calcutta. Now, if you feel this was the worst ever post, especially when all the possible excitement was expected from a travel experience on a blog that is titled "Nomadic" Diaries, here's the best part: On my way back, I wanted to feel the wind in my hand, so I flung my hand out of the train window; someone was done chewing his pan and perhaps he felt the urge to spit it out at the very instant that my hand was out. I, not only felt the wind in my hand, I also felt the pan in my hand! 

Hoping to make altercations in my mood and consequently in the post. Till then,

Move On...

All Hail The Queen

This post has nothing to do with the Elizabeths and the Victorias of England but it deals with something which is a significant part of their lives. When I say significant I refer to the language they speak, the very language which I will use to convey my views.

The British ruled India for some 200 years and thus influenced the Indian culture and lifestyle to a great extent. With the Queen’s proclamation in 1858, India became a part of the commonwealth and we were now Her Majesty’s subjects. Telephones and trains were introduced, social reforms were carried out and there was this change in the education system: English was introduced. The resilient Indians had no problem in adopting this language as invasions were not new to us. We had allowed Hindi to evolve from Sanskrit, learnt Urdu and Arabic from the Mughals and had plenty of our own mother tongues. English was something we did not mind, not at all.

Come to the present age, look around you and you’ll find the seemingly illiterate person greeting someone on his phone with a “hello” in English. The next part of his conversation is none of our business but I am sure he will have a few English words which have made their way into Hindi quite easily, in his dialogue. So the bottom-line comes to the fact that we are now quite proficient in a language which claims to be the most widely spoken once the sun rises in the Western part of the globe (Chinese being the rival in the East).

People generally have a tendency to learn something that is special and then brag about it as much as they can. English, unfortunately holds a “special” place among languages in many parts of India, I have experienced. Speaking English has been associated with standards and superiorities. I have often noticed people (and myself too) making blunders in Hindi but then brushing it aside with a proud ignorance of the language but when it comes to errors in English, we feel embarrassed; if we don’t feel so there will of course be someone to initiate that sheepish grin on our face, with his/her remarks. Some do it for fun purpose which is quite okay & entertaining while others do it for the sake of pride. Whereas this mentality is quite common, there is also this outlook in some places which does not care what language it is and with how many errors it is being spoken as long as the meaning (even in partial measures) gets conveyed.

As for my personal opinion, languages were developed and continue to evolve to make communications easier and not to induce complexes and differences. Norms and regulations of a language should be adhered to, so that the meaning does not get mutilated. Knowledge and ignorance of languages do not promote or demote us socially; after all, being ignorant is not so much a shame as being unwilling to learn. Every effort has been made to avoid any grammatical errors in this particular post and I hereby request to bring to my notice, any errors which might have crept in. The title comes from the fact that it must take a lot for a foreign language to occupy such a position in any society or culture, the credit must go to the Queen for the state of English in the Indian society.

“Her Majesty is a pretty nice girl, some day I’m gonna make her mine!” – The Beatles