English - The Real "National language"

Have you wondered, if India would have blossomed into this brilliant, diverse nation had the English never colonised us. Would the lands of the Cholas , Cheras, Chalukyas and the Kamarupas ever have imagined that one day they would be under the same flag as the Scindias, the Rajputs, the Marathas and Sikhs...
This is no admission of my continued feeling of subjugation, nor is it an attempt to glorify our one time rulers. Lets put emotional showmanship aside. cracking the aura of sentimentality and breaking the harsh readiness with which most people take to nationalist sentiments, let us for one moment imagine, if this nation would have ever crystalised into its present foem had the british not rules us.
If one tries to identify aspects in history that links all the states, with their unique cultural and linguistic identities, to each other, one can narrow it down to just 02 points.

a) They all had one religious link, i,e , they all practised some form of Sanathana Dharma, now called "hinduism" for all kinds of convenience...
b)They were all governed by the English Empire

Any discussion on the first topic will lose its way into the "dreary desert sand" of Secularism/Fundamentalism or whatever you may like to call it..

That leaves us with just one point... English culture

If India's beauty is its ability to absorb so many different cultures of its various invaders, i.e, (Turks, mongols, Afghans, Persians, greeks, Portugese ..) and visitors (Chnese scholars, monks, Missionaries of all reliogions, etc) why is so difficult to accept that "English" is as much a part of culture and tradition as anything else we practise...

To most people, Hindi, the present National language, is culturally and as a matter of exposure, more foreign than english..

So , is it right to call Hindi our national language?

YOu cannot apply the Majority rule in this... Simply because, communication is more basic to a society than even religion. So, if you want to follow, "A no national religion" ideology, it is more imperative to apply to the national language as well. So, the theory that "Hindi is the Majority language" is flawed both by logic and by emotion.

In a nation obsessed with frenzied political emotion, governments go about banning english and trying to force people to learn rocket sciences and probability theory in Hindi/ other languages.
Its not impossible, but isnt it impractical. Arent we resorting to the worst form of emotional showmanship.

The argument they give you is that, the languages are dying. For centuries, so many different cultures invaded these lands and left their mark. We absorbed everything without ever losing our identity. Now, in trying to force these cultures out, we may end up having none...

so speak your minds, (in any language you choose...)

There and Back Again....

Its not quite Bilbo's tale but I am back to delhi after 6 yrs..
To Vizag and then to Mumbai and then to Pune...
The east, the West..
The seas, the Hills
Got married in the journey
More than i bargained for.
Anyway, from Haus Khas, back to Vasant kunj, my Shire has changed..
Not quite a Rivendell yet, but better than what it was 6 years ago
hope to make the best of it

THE RESERVATION DIVIDE

India is my country, all Indians are my brothers and sisters.
I love my country and I am proud of it's rich and varied heritage. I shall always strive to be worthy of it.
I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders respect and treat everyone with courtesy.
To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion.
In their well-being and prosperity alone lies my happiness.

Remember this pledge we used to rattle out at the school assembly every morning.
While the wordplay tends to rake up patriotic emotions, the present day interpretations have greatly abused the very spirit of freedom that you and I always thought was our fundamental right. Now I dont know where "my" country really is and who "my" people are.
All I see around me is divide and despair.
I can hear the death knell of this so called undying spirit.....
I fear for our kin and the future generations..
The distant ring is now clear in my ears


One ring to rule us all
One ring to find Us
One ring to divide us all
And in the Darkness, blind us....

There is no Frodo or Sam or a Fellowship ready to take up this quest.
There is no Gandalf or Aragon to guide them...
And there is no elven ship that can take us all to the safe west either....
All I see is Saurons, Sarumans, Ringwraiths and Hordes of Orcs waiting to plunder us...

May the Force be with us all in these troubled times.......

The Eternal Sunshine of a Cricketing Mind

The Inimitable Genius of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

Sachin is injured again and the detailed anatomy of another part of the human body, seemingly “undiscovered” to most of us so far, is going to be the obsessive focus of the print, the visual media, and a million other people for the next few months. Doctors, physiotherapists, and an endless list of former cricketers are going to make a quick buck with their expert comments. Some will write his cricketing obituary and, if and when he does come back, a few others will endeavour to give him some advice about how play the cricket ball, never having put it use themselves when it mattered. Almost everyone will have an opinion, which will most certainly depend on his or her demographic identity and the loyalties that tend to come with it, and will express it with unflinching passion. But little does this cricket crazy nation understand that the only opinion that counts is his own, and if you can expect an honest opinion about this from anyone, it is him.

For 16 years, he has given this nation of perennial escapists a real escape route. Those rasping cover drives and disdainful pulls were lyrical expressions of a language that transcended all borders of religion, caste, creed, social status, professional hierarchial position etc, bringing a genuine smile to many a soul. Anxious parents awaiting their wards return and their adventurous wards desperately seeking to invent a fresh reason for their late return, Bosses with fragile tempers and their frustrated employees, warring neighbours, henpecked husbands and their doubting wives, the head of a coalition government who is not sure if he will survive the next day’s confidence vote, the forgotten border sentry, whose only companion is a transistor stuck to his ear, not sure if he will survive the night and the average Indian labourer toiling away on a hot day, not sure where his next meal is going to come from…… They had all found a reason to cheer on an otherwise forgettable day. His exploits on the cricket field have done more to reduce the happiness threshold of the average Indian than any government welfare scheme to date.

To a nation that had started to become indifferent and bored with the predictable and unreal nature of its more famous escape route, the “Woods”, i.e, Bollywood, Tollywood Kollywood etc and its age defying heroes, a fresh and genuine piece of wood was beginning to swell their pride. Some, like the Magical Shane from down under, would vehemently argue that it’s a rapier that he had to contend with not just a piece of wood. To most ordinary Indians bred on years of submissive egos tending to view anything foreign as dominant and superior, a defiant young man had suddenly earned them the sole bragging rights. If Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa Vishwanath taught them to be defiant, Sachin took it another level higher and showed the thrills that come with total dominance. It was a journey that started with a 16 year old schoolboy whipping the daylights out of a fiery Aussie attack on a rocket launch pad in Perth, went through phases when the “White Lightning” felt as though he was bowling to a revolving door and the “Rawilpindi” express was consistently “diverted” through a million different routes to the boundary . Most of those who had to contend with this onslaught, bent in abject surrender. Some left with nightmares while others simply resorted to the most negative tactics known to try and keep him quiet. Through all of this, in both victory and defeat, his actions never failed to giver our much badgered prides that sense of levitation. If that famous last over when he snatched the ball from Azhar’s hand to bowl India to the most improbable victory had us jumping with joy, then his pain defying single handed effort at Chennai against Pakistan was a lesson on how to win even when you have lost. From defiant match saving efforts to impossible chases, he has done it all. He has taken cricket as a sport and a commercial vehicle to a different dimension both in India and abroad, yet remained the simple man that he has always been all through this. Cricket’s establishment as the common Indian’s obsession and favourite pastime and the subsequent filling of the BCCI ‘s coffers owe much to this man’s efforts both on and off the field. That is precisely the reason why it pains me , like it pains many others who follow the game, when half baked experts and a host of other fans with regional biases and ulterior motives, offer advice and sometimes even question his continuance comparing him with people not even half his measure.

Sachin isn’t my favourite cricketer by any measure. If I am anybody’s die hard fan, he is the uncomplaining Rahul Dravid. But if you follow Cricket and specially Indian Cricket, you cannot escape a bit of Sachin-Mania. An advertisement on TV read, “A hero is someone you can admire without an apology”, and by that measure Sachin is a superhero. He has had his fair share of failures, specially in the recent past. But Sachin’s persona is such that you cannot measure his commitment or his ability by a few failures. He has shown that to us recently. In 2004, after a long injury lay-off followed by a few off colour performances, Sachin scored a double hundred in Sydney, which Harsha Bhogle famously termed as the most uncharacteristic Sachin knock ever. I think that is where most people missed the truth. To me, it was the most characteristic Sachin knock ever. With everything, including his wearing body and abysmal form against him, he scored a double hundred without the flamboyance which you and I would like to associate with him, and that is precisely what makes Sachin the great cricketer that he his. That strength of character that enables him to mould himself to his own wavering abilities and be ever willing to learn and adapt when nothing is in his favour, is what Sachin is all about and it is this strength of character that will always make him stand out, irrespective of performance. You can never question his commitment to the Indian cricket team, whatever his performance maybe. With bat, ball on the field , in the nets or far away in a London hospital , his commitment never wavers a bit. I am sure he would be watching and cheering the Indians win, and he would not for a moment be threatened by a match winning performance from a youngster waiting to replace him on the long run. Sachin is well and truly beyond all that.

That brings us back to the same old question, is it time for him to hang his boots? The answer, to me is very simple. It’s a question that you and I or for that matter anyone in the ever growing list self-proclaimed cricket pundits shouldnt even dare to address, leave alone attempt to get answers. If any one has deserved the right to make that decision, it is Sachin himself, and knowing him, he will not delay the decision if and when its due. He knows what best he can do with his present abilities and he will always put the team’s needs in front of his own. You will never reach a situation when somebody has to start giving him hints or have a private “chat” with him. You will never find him arguing with the captain or the coach or crying foul to the board president or press. He would’nt do any of these, simply because he knows, more than any one of us do, that all this is simply “Not Quite Cricket”, and that is why he is not just a great player, he one of the greatest cricketers ever. And that is the reason why you and I should leave him alone. Remember the times when the line up faltered badly and Sachin walked in. We did not give up our hopes then since we trusted his commitment and ability, reassuring ourselves, “Sachin’s around, he will definitely try to do something”. I think we need to repose the same trust and faith in him, believing that, if he chooses to be around, he will do something. Till then, stop comparing him to all and sundry and leave him alone.

Like I said before, I am not a fanatical Sachin fan like my uncle, who believes that Sachin gets out only because some one walked in front of the sightscreen right at the moment and he is the sorts that would have to be restrained from cutting off people’s head should they ever attempt to criticize Sachin or question his commitment. But a fan of his I will always remain. I will always hope and pray that he fires, for the sheer joy of watching his blade flow. I will always believe for as long as he plays the game that he can turn a match around single-handedly, whether by paddling a Venom-spitting Warne turner against the spin to the fence or by bowling Inzy round his legs with a vicious leg break. For it is this very hope that has brought a smile to me a million times, every time I sought to escape the rigours of an otherwise hopeless day. His presence for as long as he chooses, will always be a boon to the game, just for the sheer brilliance of his cricketing brain. There is no end to the accolades that one can shower on his contributions, but the most unforgettable of them all came from my late grandmother. A strong character herself with a penchant to keep in touch with changing trends, she wasn’t the one to miss out family unions in front of the television, specially for a cricket match. While my acerbic uncle was vociferously ensuring that nobody moved places or switched positions while watching Sachin massacre a hapless Aussie attack on that famous night in Sharjah, she quietly turned to me and said, “I think that despite all the evils that happen around us today, there is some truth to the fact that all our ancestors have earned some good Karma, for India would not have been fortunate enough to have been blessed with someone like Sachin”. To me, that sums it all up. We are really blessed to have been part of a time when we could witness someone like Sachin at full flow, and we are fully justified in flattering ourselves into believing that as long as he chooses to be around on the cricket field, there is a miracle round the corner, waiting to happen.

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE WORST KIND

My Experiences with “Artificial” Intelligence

I just finished printing the final draft of my Masters Thesis. It is a 150 page blah-blah-blah on the applications of Artificial Neural Networks(ANN) in Real Time Tsunami Warning Systems. As I culminated my report wondering at the Marvels of ANN and AI, I cannot but overlook the reminders that life has consistently given me, that all machines are definitely “gifted” with some sort of “intelligence” on their own, and its mostly the vindictive kind. There is no denying the fact that all machines act on their own free will, especially the printer that you are so desperately trying to cajole into somehow eke out the last few remaining pages of the report that you need to submit by the end of the day.

The personal computer is an established villain. As the report and the associated deadline draw to a close, the processor will become slower and slower. Your image editor will automatically start distorting your graphs, thus establishing new corollaries, sometimes quite the opposite of what you have been trying to prove for the past year. The text editor will refuse to align the text the way you want it to, the fonts will keep changing their avatars and the page numbering will give you a new lesson in arithmetic. The printer is the worst of them all, A scheming little fella who plays the humble servant most of the time, but chooses the most inopportune moment to display his “right to self determination”. My lab has a Laser Printer who, I am convinced, is an incarnate of a striking Japanese shoe company worker. “When on strike, don’t stop production, just produce only left leg shoes” is the Japanese trade union adage. This bugger pretty much follows it to the word. When the submission fever hits the lab, he starts printing multiple copies of even pages, but ignores the odd pages. You therefore have no choice but to print one document at a time. If you think that was the end your problem, think again. After spitting out several blank sheets, he begins to “express” himself in his own unique language and you will now need a decrypter as good as the “Enigma” to decipher your thesis. When he finally does start printing, he remembers his ravenous appetite suddenly and starts gobbling your papers. No one told him that “Paper Jam” is actually an error and not his favourite processed snack. You are now wrestling with him to convince him otherwise, replying to his cocky noises with the choicest of swears. By the time that dawns on him, he is really furious and what better punching bag than that spotless sheet of white paper.!!!!. You realize that he now suffers from an extreme form of paranoid schizophrenia coupled with Multiple Personality Disorder, when he suddenly starts imagining himself to be this savage Shredding Machine. Ranting and swearing only makes things worse, emphasizing the truth that when you are faced with most ruthless of them all, Discretion is definitely the better part of Valour. So, by now you are on “all fours” begging him for forgiveness and you have shot out prayers to just about anyone who closely resembles the god of machines. If you are lucky enough to appeal to his kinder side, he might just budge. But then, not only is he intelligent but is also gifted with extremely sharp senses. After hours of standing and struggling, your knees wobble a bit and you just “look” for a chair to sit down and continue printing, and lo!, the nightmare starts all over again and will only stop if you stand up “respectfully” and feed him one paper at time. Not only are printers ruthlessly vindictive, they are fine actors as well. When the Maintenance man finally answers your desperate calls for help, the printer will never fail to embarrass you. You might actually fool yourself into believing that he has mended his ways. But just wait for the maintenance guy to leave and its Show Time Again folks!!!!
I used to own an Epson deskjet ( I should say, I used to think I owned him, until he put me in my rightful place) and he was the worst rogue. He did all that his distant cousin in my Lab does, and whats more, he even hit on my wife!!! After a nightmare on submission eve last year I cribbed to her and she obviously would’nt believe me. She comes home and operates him, and there you witness the nicest, kindest, most friendly device ever known to man. And whats more, he does that every time she “works” on him!!!! Now that’s potential marital discord for you.

There are some stupid people, specially in the scientific community who believe that with focused research, they can build machines with intelligence. You don’t need to do focused research to discover that!! Those who have a report to submit, beware, there is a savage and intelligent beast right on your desk, lurking very quietly like a Velociraptor, waiting to pounce on you.

Through the Whisky Glass

Please re-'read' this poem viewing through a glass with whisky/rum on the rocks....

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR AND THE HEAD IS HELD HIGH
(Piyo Sar utakhe!!)

WHERE KNOWLEDGE IS FREE
(Give free gyaan!!)

WHERE THE WORLD HAS NOT BEEN BROKEN UP INTO FRAGMENTS BY NARROW DOMESTIC WALLS
(get a high, show no bedh bhav , Johnnywalker or Mcdowels or Bacardi or Old Monk!!!

WHERE WORDS COME OUT FROM THE DEPTH OF TRUTH
(Bolo, dil kholke!!!)

WHERE THE CLEAR STREAM OF REASON HAS NOT LOST ITS WAY INTO THE DREARY DESERT SAND OF DEAD HABIT
(Think only when you drink, and you will find that reasoning the logic in a situation, even if there isnt any, will become a habit!!!!)

WHERE TIRELESS STRIVING STRETCHES ITS ARMS TOWARDS PERFECTION
(reach out to get a refill!!!!)

WHERE THE MIND IS LED FORWARD BY THEE INTO EVER WIDENING THOUGHT AND ACTION
(Thoda Pee lo, sab kuch chauda ho jayega, dil bhi , dimag bhi, sab kuch, sab kuch.........
aur.........
Chauda ho gaya, tho obviously 'action' shuroo!!!!)

INTO THE HEAVEN OF FREEDOM MY FATHER, LET MY COUNTRY AWAKE.....
(poorey desh ko Piloa!!!)
now you know what inspired Tagore....

Impostor Aiyer

There is another Non resdient Iyer on the Prowl by the Name "Jay Aiyer" and thats not me
But he does not belong to the the IRA(Iyerish Republican Army) since he is a Democrat trying to become Someone-of-Importance in Houston.
If any of you are in and around houston,please verify.
It shouldnt become another case of
"Houston, We have a Problem"!!!!!

Iyerish Republican Army

For those Iyers who wanted to join the Armed forces but were forced to tow the family line, here is a chance to have the best of both worlds.

The (dysfunctional) President, with his hands full,(His head can never be full!!!) in Iraq can heave a sigh of relief if he starts a new regiment in the US Armed Forces to be Christened the IRA or the Iyerish Republican Army. To determine probability of finding recruits for such an Elite regiment, refer to my previous Blog http://aiyeratthegatesofdawn.blogspot.com/2006/02/unbearable-likeness-of-being-iyer.html

This regiment will specialize in "Counter Terrorism."
How is that achieved?
At all Immgration "Counters" in Iraq, put an Iyer programmer. Since all Iyers Specialize in "Verbal" "Ballistics" and therefore "Terrorize" all and sundry with their cleverly crafted Jargon, the unsuspecting militant trying to enter Iraq will be shot down by a volley of words before he sets foot in Iraq. This in short is COUNTER TERRORISM.

The Iyerish Republican Army can always expect to get immediate help from the ever ready crack team RAF- Reddy Action Force, another New elite arm of the US armed forces, with a greater possibility of getting recruits.

The Unbearable Likeness of Being an Iyer

With due apologies to Milan Kundera, (there is a theory that Tomas, the perennially confused lead in Kundera’s masterpiece, was actually inspired by a Non resident Iyer by the name Somas alias Somasekaran, and if you are wondering whose theory that is, no prizes for guessing, it is mine!!!), this is an honest effort to fit a description to an Iyer.

Foreword : For all practical purposes, Iyer=Iyengar

The Iyer Job Using Probability Theory
Given a set of “equally” likely events, the probability that one event is “more” likely than another is true if the two events in contention are
a) An Iyer moves to New Jersey
b) An Iyer Stays in Chennai
Given a set of equally “unlikely” events, the probability that one event is “more” unlikely than another is true if the two events in contention are
a) An Iyer joins the Armed Forces
b) An Iyer stays in Chennai

Iyer’s theorem of conditional Probability

Event A = Person is an Iyer
Event B = Person works in the US

P(B/A)>=P(A) !!!!!!!!!

Given the Condition that a person is an Iyer, the probablity that he/she works in the US is greater than the probability that he/she is an Iyer.

Also
P(A∩B) ->1 as t-->2050 AD
The probablity that a person is an Iyer AND He/she works in the US tends to 1 as Time tends to 2050 AD.


The description of An Iyer is never complete without talking about his Food .

The Iyer Food : - Using Pink Floyd(A tool frequently used by several iyers as a substitute for and sometimes in conjunction with various forms of distilled barley water***!)

a) The Dark Side of the Dosa (read Moon) always tastes better when dunked in a Saucerful of Sambar(Read Secrets) .

For the only connection between Dosa and Moon, (its obviously a Tamil connection) please put yourself through the rather painful experience of watching Pratap Pothen and Radhika playing a couple of mentally ill lovebirds in "Meendum Oru Kadhal Kadai!!" The moon, my friends, ‘Kadavul sutta Dosai!!!’

The “Secrets” of the “Sambar” have been documented religiously by the ever so popular Lakshmi Ammal in her culinary treatise “Samaithu Paar” translated and published as “Cook and See” and has found its way to most modern day Iyer kitchens (specially the English Version).

b) A Momentary Lapse of Rasam (probably due to failure to buy MTR Rasam powder in time) can be made good by the Delicate Sound of Thalichi Kottina Kadugu sizziling on some freshly made thayirsadam. ("Pasi Konda Neram, Thallikum Osai, singara sangeetham"- Vairamuthu)

c) When all efforts to make good fail, call mom and say “Wish You were Here”!

***Note : For the inspirational effects of Distilled Barley water(or other Malts) on musical creativity, please listen to the genius named Maharajapuram Santhanam Iyer (not many of you know what his kooja contained I guess!!)

The Big Fat Iyer Wedding

There are only three possible Venues for the wedding
a) Chennai
b) Chembur (in Mumbai)
c) Bridgewater

a) Either the Groom or the bride have to be an iyer, but its more fun when they both are iyers
b) The bride(iyer or otherwise) will have to go the “Whole Nine Yards” (Not the Mathew Perry starrer, I meant the “Madisaar”)
c) Kids will appear from nowhere to climb onto the oonjal meant for the couple.
d) The couple’s so called viradham(Fast) is more than broken by every lady in the household who insists on stuffing them with Paalum pazhamum. 2 male kids will promptly get off the oonjal to try and catch the “Laddu’ like balls that are thrown around by the elderly women.
e) The attention will stay focused on the couple only till the “thaali kattu”, when the crowds will throng the dias. Within minutes after that, only the couple and vadhyaar can be seen, the rest including the parents will mysteriously vanish and will not be traceable until lunch.
f) No matter which family is involved, one “Ambi” mama and one “Mani” mama will always appear to bless the couple.
g) A pair of “cauliflowers” will be thrust into the hands of the couple at the time of the reception.


(To be Continued……………………………)