The Outsider as a personality type has fascinated me.
The angst-ridden disfranchised individual always on the outside of whatever side there is, has been the protagonist of many a great book and movie.
Dostoyevsky made the Outsider an angry young man, Tennessee Williams explored the social politics of the world of the Outsider and Woody Allen has made tons of money in portraying the Outsider as a yuppie.
But when it come to drawing deep and consistently from the Outsider meme,J.M.Coetzee takes the Noble Prize. His 2003 Nobel Prize in Literature citation states that Coetzee "in innumerable guises portrays the surprising involvement of the outsider".
Last month I read "Waiting for the Barbarians" in which a middle-aged magistrate of an insignificant outpost of a unnamed empire slowly disintegrates under the weight of his 'outsiderness". Coetzee's magistrate is a master of self-rumination. The exploration of every nuance of thought, attitude, belief or action is as deep as it is pithy. In the book the magistrate goes from being a master of his realm to being a much-reviled outcast. The self-rumination however seems to emanate from an inner core that nothing can change, that nothing can reduce. This even tone is a portrayal of the concept of the eternal soul and ever-changing Maya without ever once using those cliched terms. Got me thinking that perhaps being the consummate Outsider is being the consummate philosopher. I have now started reading Coetzee's "Slow Man", eager to engage with yet another masterful exposition of the Outsider gestalt.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Piazza Vittorio Veneto
This evening the world came to Piazza Vittorio Veneto.
Suddenly on a stunning summer's evening the piazza became a stage.
First a couple of police cars moved to herald the arrival of a gay pride parade. The parade was substantial. About 10 floats and 400-500 young and presumably gay activists.
As I watched, the thought came to me that these people were not parading their essential humanity but their surface oddity.
It was a love fest with themselves as half-naked, they danced with and huggged each other, while aging transvestites mingled in full regalia, unsuccessfully seeking attention.Some of the floats sold beer and sandwiches, admittedly at prices lower than those offered by the cafes that dot the plazza.
Was it a coming out party? Or was it just whistling in the dark by people who at the core are seeking acceptance by the establishment?
The establishment is run by over-sexed alpha males whose rules are loaded not just against gays but everyone else who is not them - women, intellectuals, the ordinary Joe. Parades don't get under the establishment's skin, parody does.
As the parade cleared the piazza to move along the banks of the river Po into the setting sun, at one corner of the Piazza another group of young people started a performance of contemprory dance.
There was no self-love here. No beer, no sandwiches. Just razor-sharp minds painting with athletic bodies a chiaroscuro that interpret as you may, at it's core mocked the system.
This was no whistling in the dark. It was muscular and the message was clear. This is our time, this is our world and we will change it. From the inside. This generation needs no Woodstock. They are not opting out. They are claiming what is theirs to keep.
This evening the world came to Piazza Vittorio Veneto, in a city that is in a state of renaissance, in a world that definately will not be anywhere near the same five years from now.
This evening I walked back to the hotel with hope in my heart.
Suddenly on a stunning summer's evening the piazza became a stage.
First a couple of police cars moved to herald the arrival of a gay pride parade. The parade was substantial. About 10 floats and 400-500 young and presumably gay activists.
As I watched, the thought came to me that these people were not parading their essential humanity but their surface oddity.
It was a love fest with themselves as half-naked, they danced with and huggged each other, while aging transvestites mingled in full regalia, unsuccessfully seeking attention.Some of the floats sold beer and sandwiches, admittedly at prices lower than those offered by the cafes that dot the plazza.
Was it a coming out party? Or was it just whistling in the dark by people who at the core are seeking acceptance by the establishment?
The establishment is run by over-sexed alpha males whose rules are loaded not just against gays but everyone else who is not them - women, intellectuals, the ordinary Joe. Parades don't get under the establishment's skin, parody does.
As the parade cleared the piazza to move along the banks of the river Po into the setting sun, at one corner of the Piazza another group of young people started a performance of contemprory dance.
There was no self-love here. No beer, no sandwiches. Just razor-sharp minds painting with athletic bodies a chiaroscuro that interpret as you may, at it's core mocked the system.
This was no whistling in the dark. It was muscular and the message was clear. This is our time, this is our world and we will change it. From the inside. This generation needs no Woodstock. They are not opting out. They are claiming what is theirs to keep.
This evening the world came to Piazza Vittorio Veneto, in a city that is in a state of renaissance, in a world that definately will not be anywhere near the same five years from now.
This evening I walked back to the hotel with hope in my heart.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The Rich and the Rest
If the US were a person it would be a mollycoddled CEO who has lost his job, has no savings leftover from a couple of lifetimes of binge spending and is now finding it frighteningly hard to adjust to a life without salary or perks.
This spectacle has thrown up a rather piquant stand-off that illuminates the human condition well.
A week ago a Republican called Paul Ryan produced a financial strategy. The punditocracy of the right went into raptures over it.
The Economist the erudite standard-bearer of the conservative rich, praised it in last week's issue in a leader titled "Praising Paul Ryan. At last somebody is trying to grapple with America's fiscal trouble".
Sample the piece:
"He also outlines a simplification of America’s mad tax code, bringing the top rate for both individuals and businesses down to 25% by eliminating loopholes"
This would force them(them being broadly the old, the poor and the profligate sate and local governments that hands out dole to these blood-sucking sections of society)to manage their budgets more responsibly than they have needed to when they have been able to send much of the tab to Washington.
So now you have the salient points of Ryan's strategy.
President Obama last evening tore into Ryan's proposal.
The Wall Street Journal, that rabble-rousing poodle of the rich, jumped into the fray this evening.
"The Presidential Divider. Obama's toxic speech and even worse plan".
No need to quote this Murdochian paragon of virtue. It just fulminated against Obama.
The pundits of the left have of course joined the fray.
Paul Krugman, the Nobel laureate in economics, wrote an opinion piece in today's New York Times titled "Who's Serious Now?".
Krugman deserves quoting:
"Then people who actually understand budget numbers went to work, and it became clear that the (Ryan's)proposal wasn’t serious at all. In fact, it was a sick joke. The only real things in it were savage cuts in aid to the needy and the uninsured, huge tax cuts for corporations and the rich, and Medicare privatization. All the alleged cost savings were pure fantasy."
This battle is pure black and white. The reason why I follow the US so closely is that it is that one country that highlights all of humankind's myriad drama's which are in other places lost in the detail (like the wag said "to me Hollywood is not an American product.To me America is a Hollywood product").
What's happening in the US highlights that class struggle as a defining socioeconomic and cultural theme is back after hibernating for close to a century. It is now Rich versus the Rest all over the world. It is on the streets of the Middle-East. It is in Delhi's cocktail chatter about a hungry man on a podium. It is in the euro-crisis. It is behind the uneasiness of China's rulers.
World War 3 is among us. The Rich versus the Rest. Decide where you belong. I have.
This spectacle has thrown up a rather piquant stand-off that illuminates the human condition well.
A week ago a Republican called Paul Ryan produced a financial strategy. The punditocracy of the right went into raptures over it.
The Economist the erudite standard-bearer of the conservative rich, praised it in last week's issue in a leader titled "Praising Paul Ryan. At last somebody is trying to grapple with America's fiscal trouble".
Sample the piece:
"He also outlines a simplification of America’s mad tax code, bringing the top rate for both individuals and businesses down to 25% by eliminating loopholes"
This would force them(them being broadly the old, the poor and the profligate sate and local governments that hands out dole to these blood-sucking sections of society)to manage their budgets more responsibly than they have needed to when they have been able to send much of the tab to Washington.
So now you have the salient points of Ryan's strategy.
President Obama last evening tore into Ryan's proposal.
The Wall Street Journal, that rabble-rousing poodle of the rich, jumped into the fray this evening.
"The Presidential Divider. Obama's toxic speech and even worse plan".
No need to quote this Murdochian paragon of virtue. It just fulminated against Obama.
The pundits of the left have of course joined the fray.
Paul Krugman, the Nobel laureate in economics, wrote an opinion piece in today's New York Times titled "Who's Serious Now?".
Krugman deserves quoting:
"Then people who actually understand budget numbers went to work, and it became clear that the (Ryan's)proposal wasn’t serious at all. In fact, it was a sick joke. The only real things in it were savage cuts in aid to the needy and the uninsured, huge tax cuts for corporations and the rich, and Medicare privatization. All the alleged cost savings were pure fantasy."
This battle is pure black and white. The reason why I follow the US so closely is that it is that one country that highlights all of humankind's myriad drama's which are in other places lost in the detail (like the wag said "to me Hollywood is not an American product.To me America is a Hollywood product").
What's happening in the US highlights that class struggle as a defining socioeconomic and cultural theme is back after hibernating for close to a century. It is now Rich versus the Rest all over the world. It is on the streets of the Middle-East. It is in Delhi's cocktail chatter about a hungry man on a podium. It is in the euro-crisis. It is behind the uneasiness of China's rulers.
World War 3 is among us. The Rich versus the Rest. Decide where you belong. I have.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Stripping to The Core
As yesterday's summer sun dappled through my window, I found myself unreasonably happy.
Over the last month as I went about my quotidian tasks, I had begun a process of spring-cleaning on the inside. No heavy duty retreat or meditation, just a quiet second attention to the self. The result is a lightness of being. No weight of what ought to be or what should be. Just being. Every moment it's own master. Independent and unique. All encompassing of nothingness.
Yesterday as the sun dappled my happiness, Steve Winwood was on the stereo with Low Sparks of the High Heeled Boys singing:
If I gave you everything that I owned
And asked for nothing in return
Would you do the same for me as I would for you
Or take me for a ride
And strip me of everything, including my pride
But spirit is something that no one destroys
And the sound that I'm hearing is only the sound
Of the low spark of high-heeled boys
It struck me then, as Steve crooned on, that stripping ourselves back to our core is our greatest source of happiness.
Let go of the heaviness and you will rise to happiness.
Over the last month as I went about my quotidian tasks, I had begun a process of spring-cleaning on the inside. No heavy duty retreat or meditation, just a quiet second attention to the self. The result is a lightness of being. No weight of what ought to be or what should be. Just being. Every moment it's own master. Independent and unique. All encompassing of nothingness.
Yesterday as the sun dappled my happiness, Steve Winwood was on the stereo with Low Sparks of the High Heeled Boys singing:
If I gave you everything that I owned
And asked for nothing in return
Would you do the same for me as I would for you
Or take me for a ride
And strip me of everything, including my pride
But spirit is something that no one destroys
And the sound that I'm hearing is only the sound
Of the low spark of high-heeled boys
It struck me then, as Steve crooned on, that stripping ourselves back to our core is our greatest source of happiness.
Let go of the heaviness and you will rise to happiness.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
What time is the 3'0 clock parade?
I ain't looking for praise or pity
I ain't coming round searching for a crutch
I just want someone to talk to
And a little of that human touch
Just a little of that human touch
- Lyrics for Bruce Springsteen's Human Touch
Freudian analysis has faded away as a valid way of studying the human psyche because it paid too much attention to the dark motivations of the human "id" and too little to the simple yearnings of the human soul.
Avoiding loneliness and seeking human warmth is the central motivating tenet of human civilization. Cavemen huddled besides the fire not just because of economies of scale. Being childlike is when you express this need without guile. Childishness is when you let it make you a page three neurotic. To us ordinary mortals it is the seeking and nurturing of friends and families. The evolved answer this need at the highest level- by being one with the world and thus banishing loneliness, root and branch.
In Disney's amusement parks the question that visitor's most frequently ask of park personnel is "What time is the 3'0 clock parade?". The park personnel recognize the question for what it is - yet another tendril looking for human contact and warmth and are trained to answer to engage with civility: "It is best if you take your position by 2 30pm near Jo's for the best view of the parade"
I ain't coming round searching for a crutch
I just want someone to talk to
And a little of that human touch
Just a little of that human touch
- Lyrics for Bruce Springsteen's Human Touch
Freudian analysis has faded away as a valid way of studying the human psyche because it paid too much attention to the dark motivations of the human "id" and too little to the simple yearnings of the human soul.
Avoiding loneliness and seeking human warmth is the central motivating tenet of human civilization. Cavemen huddled besides the fire not just because of economies of scale. Being childlike is when you express this need without guile. Childishness is when you let it make you a page three neurotic. To us ordinary mortals it is the seeking and nurturing of friends and families. The evolved answer this need at the highest level- by being one with the world and thus banishing loneliness, root and branch.
In Disney's amusement parks the question that visitor's most frequently ask of park personnel is "What time is the 3'0 clock parade?". The park personnel recognize the question for what it is - yet another tendril looking for human contact and warmth and are trained to answer to engage with civility: "It is best if you take your position by 2 30pm near Jo's for the best view of the parade"
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Unsquaring Corruption
The corruption around us and the constant exposition and sensationalizing of corruption by an ubiquitous, always on, intrusive media has an insidious and deep effect on all of us.
We start with decrying the state our country and our society is in. But we know we are as much part of this country and society as anybody else. As a result, the constant decrying of the state around us, in time, sub-consciously manifests itself as self-hate. And in the final analysis it is self-hate that is the root cause of corruption.
I call this phenomenon Corruption Squared.
The uncovering of this phenomenon in my mind has led to a realization.
The way to fight corruption is not to constantly focus on it and constantly decry it. It is to more intensely look at the good that is in our society, our country and in us. This increased scrutiny of the good will unsquare corruption and empower us to strike at the root causes of corruption besides eradicating its most virulent symptoms.
The media would do, I think, a great service to our society and our country if it follows the above recipe.
To begin with however, as an individual, I am going try and unsquare corruption
in my own mind.
Jai India !
Sleepless in Mumbai
Three in the night
The metronome rings empty
At dawn I will be asleep
Now barren, so barren, awake
Faith sleeps. Sleeps besides me.
Shall I mouth a prayer now?
Now when darkness reigns?
I turn. Turn away.
The metronome rings empty, so empty
We start with decrying the state our country and our society is in. But we know we are as much part of this country and society as anybody else. As a result, the constant decrying of the state around us, in time, sub-consciously manifests itself as self-hate. And in the final analysis it is self-hate that is the root cause of corruption.
I call this phenomenon Corruption Squared.
The uncovering of this phenomenon in my mind has led to a realization.
The way to fight corruption is not to constantly focus on it and constantly decry it. It is to more intensely look at the good that is in our society, our country and in us. This increased scrutiny of the good will unsquare corruption and empower us to strike at the root causes of corruption besides eradicating its most virulent symptoms.
The media would do, I think, a great service to our society and our country if it follows the above recipe.
To begin with however, as an individual, I am going try and unsquare corruption
in my own mind.
Jai India !
Sleepless in Mumbai
Three in the night
The metronome rings empty
At dawn I will be asleep
Now barren, so barren, awake
Faith sleeps. Sleeps besides me.
Shall I mouth a prayer now?
Now when darkness reigns?
I turn. Turn away.
The metronome rings empty, so empty
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The power of your future
The past is deadwood.
Yet often it overwhelms.
Consider the guy in Danny Boyle's 127 hours. Trapped under a rock with no help on hand, he flails about and then, giving up, prepares to die in the narcotic companionship of his past- a deadly cocktail of fond reminisces and deadly regrets.
It is only a glimpse of a possible future - in the form of a currently non-existent son - quietly egging him to live that gifts him the courage to brutally cut away the hand that traps him and flee to his future.
That's why I guess the sages ask us to live in the now.
Because our now closes the door to the past and opens a window to the future.
The truth sets you free. Your future fuels that hard-won freedom.
In conclusion here is a ditty I would like to share with you:
Creation
Cold suns light up dawn skies
The heat of the night dissipates
My left shoe bites
The heart's arryhtmia ticks
What's the time?
What's time !?
Poles apart meet
The world collapses
Into the everyday, commomplace
Here, now, everywhere, for eternity
Yet often it overwhelms.
Consider the guy in Danny Boyle's 127 hours. Trapped under a rock with no help on hand, he flails about and then, giving up, prepares to die in the narcotic companionship of his past- a deadly cocktail of fond reminisces and deadly regrets.
It is only a glimpse of a possible future - in the form of a currently non-existent son - quietly egging him to live that gifts him the courage to brutally cut away the hand that traps him and flee to his future.
That's why I guess the sages ask us to live in the now.
Because our now closes the door to the past and opens a window to the future.
The truth sets you free. Your future fuels that hard-won freedom.
In conclusion here is a ditty I would like to share with you:
Creation
Cold suns light up dawn skies
The heat of the night dissipates
My left shoe bites
The heart's arryhtmia ticks
What's the time?
What's time !?
Poles apart meet
The world collapses
Into the everyday, commomplace
Here, now, everywhere, for eternity
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