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Of envy in self and others
“This only grant me, that my means may lieToo low for envy, for contempt too high.” Abraham Cowley, Of Myself. Mill called envy “the most anti-social and evil of all passions”. Be it so for him. And for Bacon “it is the vilest affection and the most depraved”. Some even called it ignoble, mean and miserly;… Continue reading
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On an Examination of the Living Dead
The Master of Hell, dreaded by the Gods, sends his man to fetch a soul. The Messenger of Death is well built, tall, dark and exactly looks like the one he should be. He is as old as the one living since eternity and as young as the one who is still to live till… Continue reading
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The New Myth of Sisyphus
Gods have now decided to promote Sisyphus to Level-2. The good news is that there is no mythical rock. Only pebbles. There are innumerable pebbles in the valley. All he is required to do is to count and collect them to the mountain-top, praising the glory of the Gods and thanking for their mercy. This… Continue reading
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From Barthes
The bastard form of mass culture is humiliated repetition: content, ideological schema, the blurring of contradictions—these are repeated, but the superficial forms are varied: always new books, new programs, new films, news items, but always the same meaning. ― Roland Barthes, “Modern,” in The Pleasure of the Text Continue reading
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Crusoe
After years of solitude, he returns home His soul is empty, yet full For the warmth that he craved alone. Crusoe goes to the familiar corners Only to find it is only he who craves The rest of them live amidst oneself, Or friends, brothers and fellow strangers: Each feigning to feign his coldness In… Continue reading
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Deja vu
Is it deja vu, Sickly re-run of a mediocre play Or anomaly of memory Confronting yet another routine day? A delusion of mortal being Recollection of the daily seen Is repetition a cosmic deja vu Like God’s dream of me recurring for years Who perhaps mocks at our sick souls Glued to purpose of dreams and… Continue reading
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From Baudelaire
You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it–it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk. And if… Continue reading
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Evening Metro Ride
I meet sad people. Very very sad people on my way back home from office. These people are angry too. But they are not with the government. People angry with the government are a different lot altogether. I shall talk about them later. But this lot I am talking about is angry for nothing.… Continue reading
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The Will at Forty
Reason is no poetry Nor syllogism a poem. Feeling looks for verse, Like will needs a body and a birth, And a curse for infinite passion. But when passion has eloped with your hair And you ask yourself Is it too early to take stock of the frame in terms of the fragments of those lost… Continue reading
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Prime Time Public Intellectual
In 1940s and 1950s, the Public Intellectuals were mainly “academics versed in ‘soft’ human sciences”, who used to take clear stands on important contemporary issues. Then they were replaced by ‘bloodless academicians’ with elitist jargon participating in de-grounded bombast. The engagement with actual persons with flesh and blood took the backseat. As a result, the… Continue reading