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The Philasaphee of Ze Vegabond Rock


The ultimate proof that you have arrived in life, I verily tell to thee, – is having your own Vegabond rock

What pray, might you ask, is a Vegabond Rock? At this point I adopt a solemn wise look and tell you a brief history behind the philosophy …er… philasaphee

For several years before and after 1920, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Harvey Firestone, and John Burroughs participated in a series of motor camping caravans, which have been described as the first notable linking of the automobile with outdoor recreation.

…But the party did not exactly rough it. No one slept on a bed of boughs or subsisted on fish caught in the stream. Separate sleeping tents, each with the occupant’s name on it, were provided … A dining tent about twenty feet square, set up convenient to the sleeping tents … A basic supply of food staples was carried in the kitchen truck … Frequently local people dropped by the camp with gifts.

…As the group moved along, headlines blazoned, “Henry Ford Demonstrates He’s Not Afraid of Work; Repairs His Damaged Car,” “Millions of Dollars worth of Brains Off on a Vacation,” “Genius to Sleep Under Stars,” and “Kings of Industry and Inventor Paid City Visit.” Columns were filled with stories and trivia about the famous quartet … The Vagabonds were accompanied by newsmen and photographers who reported each man’s every move and hung on his every utterance. Almost all of the newspapers in the country reported and theaters showed Ford, Edison, and Burroughs engaging in high-kicking, stair-jumping, sprinting, tree-chopping, and tree-climbing contests.

…Sometimes in August 1919, the four people carved their initials in a piece of rock which was named the vagabond rock … became the cornerstone of Ford’s manufacturing plant at Green Island, New York…

Jim recently saw a replica of that stone preserved in the ford estate museum in Detroit.

[… Adapted from the following sites http://www.henryfordestate.org/vagabonds.htm and http://www.hfha.org/HenryFord.htm ]

Sooo…? You sport a bemused look. These rich and famous guys etched their initials on a stone but so what? Can I not etch more than just the initial but my name and that of my whole family-n-friends on a piece of rock – and not just any rock mind you – in pucca white marble!  That way not just moi world arrive, but my whole family-n-friends would arrive (as they are always expected to in marriages and naming ceremonies – but that’s a different story! Thankfully!!!)

My solemn wise look starts to appear significantly more solemner at this. In fact it now bears a definite wise owlish resemblance as I utter the following pearls of wisdom –

Etch, no doubt you can, I daresay as well as the next person. Why, people are etching away entire mountains for the metal ores. Our esteemed politicians get their name etched every time even a Sulabh facility gets inaugurated. But is that the same thing as the Vegabond rock? 

The matter is not of etching, my young Padawan, (Jedi apprentice, not chi-chi)  - it is the love with which the etching is received by people – of your time and the future – which determines the degree of your arrivalhood.

Vegabond stone, not only made to be the cornerstone of a manufacturing plant with a replica of the stone being available even today in the Ford Estate Museum in Detroit; but also at the time this stone was etched – in a seemingly inane act  - it was widely celebrated by people - the media and the general Janta literally followed these people around where they went and hung onto their words and deeds. Not because they were rich themselves – but because they had the capability of making a difference to others lives – they truly were Geniuses. The same way, if Big B or Tendulkar, etched something I believe it would be equally revered – because of the amount of Joy they give to us. There can be no doubt that Big B has truly arrived. Just see the fan he has. Same goes for our little master blaster.

Coming back to the Vegabond rock – I feel it symbolizes the love of people of a bunch of geniuses who truly  had etched their names in people’s hearts. No doubt, it was also an well orchestrated PR exercise by these world-wise people. But the PR worked because they were celebrated on the first place. The piece of gray rock – the replica which I regarded reverently in the ford museum a few weeks back at Detroit represent a combination of all that.

Etch that well, my Padawan, and you shall have arrived…

http://www.henryfordestate.org/filesvagabonds/greenisland.jpg

Posted in Blogs, Uncategorized.

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By Jim – February 28, 2010


Miracles


“Adopted!” I fought hard against this word, willing it to stay in the inner recesses of my mind - not to come out.  In vain. It bubbled up like a repressed emotion into my consciousness and leaked out as tears, as I gazed at my daughter looking at me with bloodshot eyes, seething in anger. 
“Don’t expect to tell me what’s good Papa. You have lost it.” Summary of a long planned father-daughter conversation.

I didn’t recognize the young woman in front of me any more. True the face was the face I loved more than any in the world. One that to me represented love itself. My daughter, my angel, my pride. I knew every ex-pression that face had ever had - of happiness, of dejection, of elation, of concentration, of fatigue and of victory. Of the carefreeness of sleeping with head on father’s lap. My daughter, my angel, my pride.

My wife chided me of pampering her to the extent of spoiling her. But I knew that she knew that my little angel was my reason to live, as she was my wife’s. It was the will of the Almighty which brought her into our lives on a rainy night, alone and abandoned. A night to be thankful for the miracle that it had brought to our lives but to be never dwelled upon. The only time the episode was mentioned was shortly after our angel’s 18th birthday, when my wife declared the our daughter had the right to now.

For a week she cried and didn’t come out of her room, until late one night she came and held her Dad’s hand and pleaded - “Papa, please tell me it isn’t so”.

“Ma, you are my angel daughter and Lord has willed it. Does anything else matter. Your mom and I live only for you. Don’t you see that?”

Over a period of time she did. Only person that knew outside the family was her best friend Anirudh. Anirudh, we felt helped her come to terms with the truth. Gave her the strength. A few time we spied him hold her hand  and pretended we didn’t see. Secretly we hoped they would marry someday.

My angel made it to AIIMS with her natural elan. Father’s daughter I declared to all that would hear. Though as my wife pointed out, as a Chemistry professor at a Govt college I was nothing like a doctor, but who cared, the pride I felt as a father eclipsed anything that I could have achieved myself. Anirudh went to NIT Thrichy for a BE in Electronics. We could see that distance took a toll on the friendship and mention of Anirudh in her daily conversations with her mom reduced until it disappeared altogether. Anirudh who made it a point to visit home in his breaks for college even when our angel was away at the start of the course, slowly stopped coming. 

Providence however had something else in mind and Anirudh got a job in Delhi or perhaps took it knowingly. Destiny brought them professionally together as Anirudh’s company partnered with AIIMS on the use of nanotechnology in medical science, a field so advanced that its promise bordered science fiction.

My long domestic partnership however had started to fade. My wife was diagnosed with a malady of bone marrow that was was eating her away from inside. I knew that God had given me forty years with the sweetest woman and it was his will that my wife should go back to Him. My years of practice of spirituality did nothing to console me though. My daughter had ensured the best doctors in the field saw her mom. The answer was always the same - this was terminal.

She could perhaps live for a few months longer if her bone marrow was replaced immediately.

That night was the first time daughter and father had a row.

I insisted, with all insistence that I could muster in my sadness, that we did the replacement next morning. My wife and I shared blood groups so I could easily donate mine. Instead of agreeing and saying that she also would donate, (she also by a quirk of fate had the same group B+ as me and my wife), she just said “No”.

“No!! NO?! What on earth are you saying.” I raged.

“I mean Anirudh and I can cure her with the work we are doing Papa. Trust me”

“Angel, she is not your experiment. She is your mom, she is your mom…”

“And that is precisely why I want to save her Papa”

“Have you done it before”

“No, but trust me”

“What?! You wish to deny me the last few months together for you stupid experiment. Can you be any more thoughtless my angel? When you are at it, why don’t you do some of your brainy experiments on Dad too. Maybe they will give you an award.” I said bitterly, in a tone that I had never dreamt I would  ever use  with my daughter.

That’s when the thought that had never surfaced before assailed me. Would she
be so ready to experiment if she was our own? Immediately I hated myself but the thought lurked as I got the biggest shouting from my daughter.

Finally it was my wife who settled this by siding with her daughter. By then words had failed me and I stormed out.

One week later, Miracle visited us again. I was waiting with the rest of my family for 5 hours outside the OT when suddenly my daughter  ran out and put her arms around my neck and said - “Papa, the procedure was successful, the bots are doing their job. Mom’s going to be fine”.

So it came to pass that one year later as me and my wife were settling down for dinner that our landline rang - we knew only she called on landline. As my wife put on the speaker in the phone our angel screamed - “Papa, Ma. Our research has been blessed by Ministry of Health. We can offer it to everyone that needs it. Next month we are presenting our findings at Geneva.” After a pause she added, “I think I should marry Anirudh, he helped me save my  Mom. Love you, will call later.” And the line went dead.

For a moment we didn’t know what to do, numbly my wife and I looked at each other. Slowly we hugged and we cried. We laughed like children and We prayed. God had truly sent us a little miracle that rainy night.

I picked up one of the numerous picture frames of her that we had all over the house and kissed her forehead. My daugher, my angel, my pride.


Posted in Fiction.

9 comments

By Jim – November 1, 2009


The World, Hope and the Festival of Lights


The old Adam and Eve story may actually have been a true one after all.

Consider this:

Why are humans so obsessed with unhappiness?
Because they think they are smart.

Explain.
Other animals are not so hard to please. A fawn that just escaped the
clutches of a Lion can soon be seen horsing around. And the lion who
missed can be seen chasing an wildebeest.

What has Deers, Lions, Horses and Wildebeests have to do with Human happiness?
Nothing.They are introduced to show the contrast. These seemingly dumber
creations certainly appear to lead an happier existence.

So the dumber you are they happier you are?
Maybe. However this is only illusory intelligence. On attaining Real
Intelligence - Brahma Gyan or Divine Grace or whatever, the state of
happiness returns.

So Adams and Eves fall from paradise could be likened to becoming
more intelligent but at the same time loosing happiness as a constant
state of mind. One mark of godliness is Bliss or Ananda. So through
the act of becoming more intelligent they also were turned turned
away from the gates of paradise. They can only return when they gain
true grace of god.

Why celebrate Diwali?
Because Diwali is not just a festival of lights - it also a festival of Hope.
The lights represent not just the joy of Lord Ram returning to Ayodhya
but also of light of knowledge dispelling darkness of ignorance. And
therein lies the only hope for mankind so we celebrate this.

Happy Diwali.


Posted in Blogs.

3 comments

By Jim – October 15, 2009


The Commuting Dillemma


Each morning Jim was faced with the same Dilemma - which mode of transport to take to the office which was located at the other end of Bangalore.
 
Each alternative had its own charm - while Apparition was most efficient and fastest - the transition from home to office setting - was often too fast to his likings. All the more so because with advancing years Jim wanted his changes to be served to him slowly, preferably accompanied with a CR form.

Ditto for the Portkey, which had the added discomfort of making him feel like some thing was pulling him by his no-longer-insignificant tummy. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Portkey was designed by some ancient wizard with a poor sense humor and was distinctly uncomfortable after a heavy breakfast. 

Broomstick was the best, one could soar up like a bird, see the sprawl of Bangalore below, zoom over the clouds and reach the office feeling light as a feather. The only problem was that sometimes one of the millions of Bangalorean muggles - a few thousand of whom, at any instant of time in the day could be  seen gazing aimlessly at the sky - seeing a fella with laptop flying on a broom stick would perhaps raise some unnecessary hue and cry, drawing unnecessary attention.

Jim therefore traveled to office in his car. 



Posted in Blogs.

3 comments

By Jim – September 26, 2009


Mourning Jackson


The sadness I feel in my heart is palpable, a living wound, a pain that is not just emotional but physical. Since Friday morning when I overheard that Michael Jackson was dead, I have been shell shocked. At this age I didn’t know that the passing of an celebrity could affect me so much. But then Michael Jackson, whose musical talent and showmanship I truly idolized was not your garden variety of celebrity. He was the greatest celebrity the world has known or is likely to know. He was not just the King of the Pops - he was the Emperor. What hurts me so profoundly at a personal level - is how badly we, mankind as a whole, treated him, misunderstood him, and mocked him. Genius have their own idiosyncrasies and Lord knows that MJ had his. But in my heart I could never reconcile the dreadful things that were written about him. True or not, they finally took their toll.

This loss is personal and I mourn his passing. :(    

The outpouring of grief all over the world is so overwhelming. I wonder if he was so precious that his passing away has cast such a pall of gloom, why did the world not take better care of him. What is the point in having functions to celebrate him after his death when we allowed him to self-destruct, inflicted damaging blows to his psyche and hounded him till he became a recluse? No we didn’t give up even then. Why? Questions whose answers perhaps show a face of humanity that humanity itself is not ready to see.

All I know is that my own thoughts in the past few days have dwelled upon this legend as never before. Memories of his pictures seen in childhood, songs hummed and dances imitated flood the mind whenever it is idle. Perhaps I am grieving the fact that his passing is untimely and so unfair. He had so much more to achieve and to give.

Why did you go away MJ? Why?

In my mind the what-ifs clamour for attention, - what if after the Pepsi incident he found relief in faith and not pain-killers, what if he really found someone who he could love truly and someone who could love him back in return, what if his abused childhood was overshadowed by a happy family life, what if he had at least some advisors and managers who were not bloodsuckers… this list could go on but can never bring back the biggest phenomenon that we were priviledged to share the same timeline with.

I really do wish blessings of Lord Krishna on his soul.  


Posted in Blogs.

2 comments

By Jim – June 30, 2009


Thrill On — MJ


The untimely death of the legendary Michael Jackson has saddened me, like millions of his other fans, to the very core. MJ for our generation has been an integral part of our growing up years. In the farthest reaches of Indian North-East, at Itanagar, MJ represented for many of us our first brush with western pop music as an object of attention. Until the BAD album, we considered English pop music as something that only the Khasis of Shillong listened to or something that blared from the buses on cold days so that people could tap their feet and keep the blood circulation going. Nothing that had the depth of either Indian or Western Classical Music.

Then BAD happened. (I had missed the Thriller mania at the time it was released being too young to know what I liked).

BAD was a turning point in my adolescent life. If the sheer energy of the BAD music video enthalled me, the lyrics of “I just can’t stop loving you“, transported me to the different world with its beautiful lyrics and soulful music. The “Man in the mirror“, song opened my eyes to the real world. Indeed BAD changed our perception of Western Music altogether. My brother and I became instant fans of this phenomenon called Michael Jackson. Then started the highly satisfying journey of discovering his earlier works - The magic of Thriller - Off the Wall, even his songs from the Jackson 5 days. Voracious reader that both of us were, we read up every scrap of info on MJ we could find. Even today, I know almost every reported trivia of his early life. - Like how their family radio went bust and gave us the biggest star of music this planet has ever seen, stories from Jackson 5 days and stuff. Bro and I proclaimed our fanhood by putting up a lifesize poster of MJ in our living room. Though, my father, a great singer of Indian Classical style himself was initially skeptical - his natural open mindedness ensured that he could recognize great talent when he saw it and MJ adorned our living room as long as we stayed in Itanagar.

Over the years we have remained fans. The stories and controversies around him pained us at times, but we always felt that MJ would spring back and dazzle the world again with his brilliance. Perhaps destiny had something else in mind and we were deprived of having a giant in our midst.

I pray to Lord Krishna for bestowing peace to his soul.

MJ remains and shall remain one of the greatest figures in history of music.


Posted in Blogs.

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By Jim – June 28, 2009


Krishna He!

Adoration of Krishna is bliss absolute.

He Krishna,
Kruna Sindhu
Din-o-bandu
Vishwa-Pate
Gopesha
Gopika-Kanta
Radha-Kanta
Namastote.

Posted in Blogs.

4 comments

By Jim – June 12, 2009


Cry Havoc and Let Loose the Ants of War


Sometimes you don’t seek a war, but it is war that seeks you out. Suddenly the hand of destiny leads you on around a bend where you see War staring at you with a deadpan ex-pression and daggers in eyes. The realization that you are at war hits you suddenly like a squirt of colored water from a pichkari aimed squarely between your eyes and you just realize life isn’t going to be the same again, till the war ends. “Am I equal to this?” you ask, but know deep inside that the answer doesn’t really matter. As a certain Caesar has been know to say - Alea iacta est - The die has been cast.

The indications, the odd skirmishes, the sinking feeling that a resolute faceless enemy had set its sights at a peace that was yours and yours only to enjoy has perhaps been growing over a period of time. But a sense of denial perhaps prevented you from seeing the enormity of the threat. Until a day came when you came face-to-face with your war. A war with The Ants.

For a past few months, ants (big black ones with red behinds) have invaded my home and happiness. In the beginning it was the odd onesie-twosies that showed up on the bathroom walls, discreet; either ignored or casually disposed of with a whack of the slipper. Within days the numbers strarted to swell and these critters began venturing outside of the bathroom to the wash- basin area; and then onto the leaving areas of house. These sneaky critters are smart, they come out after 10 at night and are gone by day-break. If I was not an insomniac I perhaps wouldn’t have even know of this attack.

In couple of months, the numbers that now pays a nocturnal uninvited visit has burgeoned beyond what any householder can turn blind eye to any longer. Still the prospect of a full-scale war seemed far. It was felt that drowning them in buckets of water, putting white cements and putty into the cracks through which the ants come out would perhaps act as a deterrent. But the enemy has proven to be more resolute than that. For every crack closed, a couple more were discovered and exploited. The long black column keeps coming, keeps getting bigger. So now, there is no longer a choice, O Arjuna, the time has come to wage a righteous battle against the relentless onslaught.

The two army regard each other - silent, cautious and observant. On onside is the army of the invaders, hundreds upon hundreds of ants - intelligent, industrious, deadly. The other side is the army of the defenders, who are three in number - two aging computer engineers and their three year old progeny. The progeny of course is not a fighting resource, he is around to boost the moral of ol’ Mom and Dad, as they get ready to wage the battle royale.

The adrenaline rises to unheard of levels, and is not heard from anymore. Fear stalks every corner looking for something to scare and returns home dejected. Hark, the bugle sounds - nah! that was just the passing train but let us pretend it was a bugle.

Tonight we make merry, sing old forgotten Viking songs of Thor and Odin, sharpen our claws and fangs, write blogs at odd hours.

Tomorrow we go to war. An all out war with invading Ants.

Har Har Mahadev.


Posted in The War Series.

15 comments

By Jim – March 27, 2009


Lessons from Vijayanagar Empire


Indians would do well to leaf through the pages of history and see the state that our past disunity has always left us in. Starting from the early invasion of the Greeks, Huns, Turks, Afghans and finally the British, Indians have failed India repeatedly because of narrow differences that turned to lethal chinks in our Armour. Today again we seem to be drawn toward a votex of a whirlpool of strife by the narrowness of the politicians, their petty politics and votebanks. SP, NCP and Congress are not together to further any common cause, their arrangements reek of pure opportunism. The same way BJD’s ditching of NDA is not because Naveen suddenly understood the glory of secularism, he is just keeping his options open and perhaps this may turn out to be his biggest miscalculation yet, as the a father-son due discovered not so long ago, much to their chagrin. The voters don’t trust deserters. BJD has sadly failed to learn from history. Alas.

Our politicians, perhaps the last people of the face of this planet who could be expected to have too many intellectual pursuits, would do well to learn to from the fate of the glorious Vijaynagara kingdom. Under the able leadership of Krishnadevaraya, this Empire prospered like no other in contemporary history. At a time Babur was laying waste much of the northern part of our great land, here was a ruler that had the might to strike Babur’s Mughal tail all the way back to the desert hell-hole that he had come out of. Unfortunately such a confrontation never happened, and Krishnadevaraya died before he could find an able successor; his equally able son having died of some disease before he could be crowned. Krishnadevaraya, left behind a prosperous Kingdom, a valiant army sadly in the hands of inapt successors. Surrounded by petty Nawabs and Sultans, Vijaynagara soon fell under their collective onslaught. Folklore has it that army of vermin sacked one of the most spectacular city that Medieval India had seen for months on end, till all that was left were the ruins of Hampi. If you have not visited Hampi, please do. Few pages of Indian history, few stories of empires lost would move you so much. We Indians have a lot of learning to do from fate of Vijaynagara.

It frightens me to think, that India seems suddenly poised it a similar brink. Surrounded by enemies, the forces that have come to the fore as contender of power are either a party that has ceased to be driven by the lofty goals that helped it play a significant part in India’s Independence and have descended to appeasement as a state policy; or a hotch-potch of opportunists of all hues across the land called the Third (class) Front. The one collection that with its many failings still speaks of a strong India and united India suddenly seem isolated. And that’s exactly what frightens me the most. Have we all been suddenly condemned to a collective blindness? Let’s pray not.

India is a land of miracles, and when people wish, Miracles happen. One just hopes that they see the danger that the country is passing through and get the right people back to power.

Vande Mataram


Posted in Politics.

6 comments

By Jim – March 10, 2009


Quantum of Immateriality


A common theme in Asterix comics, is the philosophical pronouncements of Roman legionaries after a good round thumping from cheeky Gauls - Usually pictured with candles around their heads, some skinny legionary can be heard complaining - “Join up, they said! It’s a man’s life, they said!“  I, suddenly, feel the same way about knowledge - “Keep learning they said! There’s no end to knowledge they said“. Well, whoever they were, they were downright wrong! Turns out that knowledge today does have an end. And herein lies a new theory and I call it Jim’s Unsearchability Principle and it goes thus:

(Drumroll and sounds of Trumpet, and while we are at it why not some birds chirping and angels singing also yaar!!!)

And now the theory:

“Quatum of human knowledge is today restricted to the  search results page of a  web-search engine like google or yahoo. If the result doesn’t show up what you are looking for, well it doesn’t exist; pretty much like the name of Geriatrix’s wife, it just doesn’t exist“.

So what might it be that has put me in this  advanced state of mind? Well I was turning the good ol’ net upside down trying to find out when can an overhead variance be called material and when immaterial. I came up with zillions of pages expounding on how to dispose a immaterial variance by adding or subtracting from COGS or when it is material how it has to be prorated over a bunch of weird looking numbers, so on and so forth. But on when can I safely call a variance immaterial - Zero, Zilch. So I conclude that this funda doesn’t exist within the realm of normal human knowledge and must require supernatural powers. CAs of the world probably use some black magic to point at an assorted collections of variances and say majestically to some poor variance - I proclaim thee, O insignificant overhead variance, that thou art immaterial. Go and spend your life meditating on thy immateriality. With same arbitrariness perhaps they would point to a more lucky one and  say “Thee with a orange colored Direct Labor Cost figure - I like thee - so from hereonforth thou shalt be material.”

Has to be that, for I am yet to see a science here.


Posted in Philosophy.

6 comments

By Jim – February 26, 2009