I procrastinate, therefore I am.

I procrastinate, therefore I am.
Showing posts with label Contemplation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contemplation. Show all posts

Monday, January 10, 2011

Just Another Chat

We all like to chat with people on a whole range of topics ranging from the inconsequential to the mundane. We gossip when some other guy hooks up with some other girl, or when Dada fails to find a bidder in IPL auction. There is in fact a typical word in Bengali to describe this kind of social chitchat - "Adda".

I am reproducing below excerpts from a chat. The persons involved begin with the philosophical implication of quantum mechanics, debating the dichotomy between causality and the inherent random nature of the universe at the scale of elementary particles, and end with a discussion on the relative merits and demerits of Indian and Western music.

I would urge you to reflect upon the quality of the conversation. The identity of the persons will be revealed at the end of the excerpt.

A: I was discussing with C today the new mathematical discoveries which tell us that in the realm of infinitesimal atoms chance has its play; the drama of existence is not absolutely predestined in character.

B: The facts that make science tend toward this view do not say good-bye to causality.

A: Maybe not, yet it appears that the idea of causality is not in the elements, but that some other force builds up with them an organized universe.

B: One tries to understand in the higher plane how the order is. The order is there, where the big elements combine and guide existence, but in the minute elements this order is not perceptible.

A: Thus duality is in the depths of existence, the contradiction of free impulse and the directive will which works upon it and evolves an orderly scheme of things.

B: Modern physics would not say they are contradictory. Clouds look as one from a distance, but if you see them nearby, they show themselves as disorderly drops of water.

A: I find a parallel in human psychology. Our passions and desires are unruly, but our character subdues these elements into a harmonious whole. Does something similar to this happen in the physical world? Are the elements rebellious, dynamic with individual impulse? And is there a principle in the physical world which dominates them and puts them into an orderly organization?

B: Even the elements are not without statistical order; elements of radium will always maintain their specific order, now and ever onward, just as they have done all along. There is, then, a statistical order in the elements.

A: Otherwise, the drama of existence would be too desultory. It is the constant harmony of chance and determination which makes it eternally new and living.

B: I believe that whatever we do or live for has its causality; it is good, however, that we cannot see through to it.

A: There is in human affairs an element of elasticity also, some freedom within a small range which is for the expression of our personality. It is like the musical system in India, which is not so rigidly fixed as western music. Our composers give a certain definite outline, a system of melody and rhythmic arrangement, and within a certain limit the player can improvise upon it. He must be one with the law of that particular melody, and then he can give spontaneous expression to his musical feeling within the prescribed regulation. We praise the composer for his genius in creating a foundation along with a superstructure of melodies, but we expect from the player his own skill in the creation of variations of melodic flourish and ornamentation. In creation we follow the central law of existence, but if we do not cut ourselves adrift from it, we can have sufficient freedom within the limits of our personality for the fullest self-expression.

B: That is possible only when there is a strong artistic tradition in music to guide the people's mind. In Europe, music has come too far away from popular art and popular feeling and has become something like a secret art with conventions and traditions of its own.

A: You have to be absolutely obedient to this too complicated music. In India, the measure of a singer's freedom is in his own creative personality. He can sing the composer's song as his own, if he has the power creatively to assert himself in his interpretation of the general law of the melody which he is given to interpret.

B: It requires a very high standard of art to realize fully the great idea in the original music, so that one can make variations upon it. In our country, the variations are often prescribed.

A: If in our conduct we can follow the law of goodness, we can have real liberty of self-expression. The principle of conduct is there, but the character which makes it true and individual is our own creation. In our music there is a duality of freedom and prescribed order.

B: Are the words of a song also free? I mean to say, is the singer at liberty to add his own words to the song which he is singing?

A: Yes. In Bengal we have a kind of song-kirtan, we call it-which gives freedom to the singer to introduce parenthetical comments, phrases not in the original song. This occasions great enthusiasm, since the audience is constantly thrilled by some beautiful, spontaneous sentiment added by the singer.

B: Is the metrical form quite severe?

A: Yes, quite. You cannot exceed the limits of versification; the singer in all his variations must keep the rhythm and the time, which is fixed. In European music you have a comparative liberty with time, but not with melody.

B: Can the Indian music be sung without words? Can one understand a song without words?

A: Yes, we have songs with unmeaning words, sounds which just help to act as carriers of the notes. In North India, music is an independent art, not the interpretation of words and thoughts, as in Bengal. The music is very intricate and subtle and is a complete world of melody by itself.

B: Is it not polyphonic?

A: Instruments are used, not for harmony, but for keeping time and adding to the volume and depth. Has melody suffered in your music by the imposition of harmony?

B: Sometimes it does suffer very much. Sometimes the harmony swallows up the melody altogether.

A: Melody and harmony are like lines and colors in pictures. A simple linear picture may be completely beautiful; the introduction of color may make it vague and insignificant. Yet color may, by combination with lines, create great pictures, so long as it does not smother and destroy their value.

B: It is a beautiful comparison; line is also much older than color. It seems that your melody is much richer in structure than ours. Japanese music also seems to be so.

A: It is difficult to analyze the effect of eastern and western music on our minds. I am deeply moved by the western music; I feel that it is great, that it is vast in its structure and grand in its composition. Our own music touches me more deeply by its fundamental lyrical appeal. European music is epic in character; it has a broad background and is Gothic in its structure.

B: This is a question we Europeans cannot properly answer, we are so used to our own music. We want to know whether our own music is a conventional or a fundamental human feeling, whether to feel consonance and dissonance is natural, or a convention which we accept.

A: Somehow the piano confounds me. The violin pleases me much more.

B: It would be interesting to study the effects of European music on an Indian who had never heard it when he was young.

A: Once I asked an English musician to analyze for me some classical music, and explain to me what elements make for the beauty of the piece.

B: The difficulty is that the really good music, whether of the East or of the West, cannot be analyzed.

A: Yes, and what deeply affects the hearer is beyond himself.

B: The same uncertainty will always be there about everything fundamental in our experience, in our reaction to art, whether in Europe or in Asia. Even the red flower I see before me on your table may not be the same to you and me.

A: And yet there is always going on the process of reconciliation between them, the individual taste conforming to the universal standard.



A: Rabindranath Tagore

B: Albert Einstein

C: A common friend, Dr. Mendel

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Tumi (Bengali Poem)

Bhebechilam tumi amai poth dekhabe raate,

Kanna-hashi, dukhho-sukhe roibe amar sathe.

Jokhon kono bijon kone katbe somoy shunno mone,

Tokhon tumi asbe jano oporuper alo-

Ghuchbe sokol kalo.



Onekta poth hete eseo paini tomar dekha,

Hoyto aro onekta poth cholte hobe eka.

Hoyto acho sobar majhe, hoyto tumi nei,

Ami kebol thakbo jeno amar ami-tei.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Different Identities

Every person is associated with multiple identities. I was tagged as a Bengali, an Indian, and a Hindu from the first day of my life; nobody asked me what I thought of Bengali as a language, India as a country or Hinduism as a religion. Still these identities play a significant role in the way we view ourselves, and the way people view us.

Born a Hindu, I have grown up to become an atheist. I feel the early prophets of all religions were remarkable men of their time. Jesus and Mohammed were great men, but so were Socrates and Plato. The trouble with any organized religion is it lays a down a set of rules in a holy book thousands of years old, and dogmatically claims that people should follow these rules and the same way of life even in twenty-first century. Plato supported the institution of slavery in his Republic. Today if a person comes to me and says a civilized nation cannot do without slaves, I will call her a racist. However, this does not mean I am discrediting Plato; the society and its value system were completely different in his time. Similarly there are obnoxious passages in religious scriptures, but the followers of the concerned religion will never admit their Prophet could say something wrong. If a person is trying to lead her life according to the dictates of an organized religion, she is in a sense trying to fly an airplane by reading a manual for wheel-cart.

While I have repudiated all religions, I am extremely fond of my nationality and mother-tongue. But I am not jingoistic enough to be a proud Indian or a proud Bengali, due to a couple of reasons.

Firstly, I was born with these identities, and did not do anything to achieve them.

Secondly, quoting Jawaharlal Nehru, "India is home to all that is truly noble and truly disgusting in the human experience". Perhaps the same statement applies to Bengal as well!

I identify with the destiny of this country, regardless of whether or not it is the greatest nation in the world; and I feel extremely fortunate for being able to read Rabindranath Tagore in his native language.

There are people with markedly different attitudes towards the same identities. Some immigrants to the US are devoted to their religion, but feel no compunction while applying for US citizenships and giving up their native passports. Are they doing the right thing? Have I done the right thing? Perhaps these are not the right questions to ask, and one should not to be judgmental about these issues.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Mind Your Language

Do you expect a child of Indian origin, born and brought up in US, to be proficient in her mother tongue? My personal experiences, garnered from intermittent encounters with NRI families over the course of past ten years, suggest she will understand the language perfectly well, but prefer talking in English even to her parents. The situation is similar to me being able to comprehend Hindi, and at the same time being extremely uncomfortable in using it as means of verbal communication.

Although it is painful to see a Bengali child conversing in English with her Bengali parents, I should not be passing a moral judgment. My own grandparents migrated from Bangladesh, and I have very little emotional attachment with our neighboring country. Perhaps the kids in question see themselves primarily as US citizens, and just like me, have little interest in the region her immediate ancestors migrated from. Intriguingly, on most occasions, the parents of these kids are quite fond of Bengali culture. They listen to Rabindrasangeet, take part in quintessential Bengali addas with their friends and colleagues in the weekend, and behave just like any other person residing in Kolkata. It is not uncommon to see the parents trying to initiate a conversation with the kid in Bengali, only to get exasperated as she invariably replies back in English.

There are a few plausible explanations for this behavior. It is true that the child has no option of learning the language in school, she has very few Bengali friends. Her only exposure to the language is at home, at the adda sessions with her parents' colleagues, and during the annual trip to Kolkata.

The paradox is each of the above statements hold equally well for a kid born and brought up in Bombay or Bangalore; but you rarely see such a child speaking in Hindi with her parents.

Feel free to comment if you can shed some light.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Going Home?

Yesterday marked the end of second academic year in grad school. I am going for an internship at a research lab in Silicon Valley for the next twelve weeks, followed by a biannual month long trip back to India. I will visit Kolkata for twenty days, and spend rest of the time in Mumbai, a city I consider to be second home. Life is good.

As an Indian studying in US, I often wonder - shall I return to my home country after graduation? Having debated the issue threadbare, I am reasonably sure of a positive answer.

It is said, and rightly so, US nurtures an environment that helps a person thrive professionally. An overwhelming proportion of great universities and research labs are located in this country, whereas in India, most institutions are plagued by internal politics. There are further reasons to settle in US if one is aspiring for better income and a lavish lifestyle. However, I subscribe to the view that beyond a certain threshold, an increase in income does not necessarily lead to an increase in personal happiness. Having grown up in a Bengali upper-middle class family, I will be content to live a life where I can afford the amenities I used to enjoy during the college days in Kolkata.

On the other hand, it is sheer impertinence to claim I will be doing a service to my nation by settling there. In a country ravaged by malnutrition and casteism, where half the population is illiterate and more than a quarter below poverty line, I belong to a privileged few. By churning out papers as a researcher or minting money as an IT professional, I will not even get to know the real Bharat.

I wish to return to India simply because it is my home. It may or may not be the greatest nation in the world, but it is my nation, a nation whose fate I wish to share, a place where I was born, and wherein I wish to spend the most of my tiny little life.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Looking Back

Have you ever seen a quintessential "Good Boy"? I was one such rare specimen in school. I never went to a movie with other students, never bunked a class, and was pathetic at initiating conversation with any classmate who belonged to the fairer sex. Four years in JU helped me rectify the first two personality defects, the remaining one seems incurable. As you may have guessed already, I enjoyed a lot in college. We were a group of 50 boys and 2 girls (what a pity!). I found many good friends. We used to have long "adda" sessions, the topics varied from cricket, girls and movies to discrete maths and algorithms.

It has been a couple of years since we got out of college, and slowly lost contact with each other. I still call up some of my best pals, but it is no longer possible to stay in touch with all of them. Do I miss those wild days? Yes I do. But at the same time I am happy with my present circumstances. I cherish my work. I talk with my family and a few old friends on a regular basis. What more can a person ask for?

Sweet memories are like lost love. While taking a solitary walk on a pleasant Saturday evening, you stop by the road to relive the golden times and wonder what went wrong. It brings out a wistful smile and a few drops of tears. Then you suddenly come to realize it is getting dark; you move on.

This is life.