Jane Austen and my Life...

The other day I had a chance reading of a saying on a book cover. It went something like this
Do not worry about the past.
Do not dream about your future.
Live in the present and enjoy the moment.
I was really excited about these words. This morning when I read the preface to the collected works of Jane Austen, I encountered the real Jane Austen which was quite different from the literary persona I had met in her novels. I felt really inspired reading about her past which was quite contrary to the essence of the saying which is quoted above. I feel that we should worry about our past, we should feel guilty about our past but we should not dwell on the past for quite long time. We should move on…
Like a roller in the ocean, life is motion
Move on
Like a wind that’s always blowing, life is flowing
Move on
Like the sunshine in the morning, life is dawning
Move on - (ABBA – Move on)
I am here reproducing the life of Jane Austen as I read in the book - The Complete Collection of Jane Austen . The persona who is behind all those great novels including Sense and Sensibility (which we Indians remember as Kandukondein Kandukondein starring awesome Aishwarya and terrific Tabu) is quite different.
Jane Austen, the modest, gentle – natured daughter of the rector of Stevenson...
Her short life could scarcely have been more uneventful. Apart from occasional visits to London, she lived entirely in peaceful rural or provincial surroundings, performing a seemingly uninterrupted round of domestic chores and polite social obligations. Few people in our modern age of rapid communications and strident media of mass entertainment could have hoped to achieve such complete, impenetrable isolation from the outside world.
What distinguished this girl from thousands of others of similar age, upbringing and social standing was the possession of uncommon intelligence and perception, and an even rarer literary ability which flowered into genius. The very seclusion which must have caused others to languish in boredom, and a few perhaps to seethe with rebellion was in her case a positive and indispensable asset. For it was in this unlikely environment that the young Jane Austen dedicated herself to writing, and produced six novels of manners as perfect in conception and execution as anything written before or since.
Her other occupations included helping around the house, sewing and needlework, writing letters, playing the piano and singing. She enjoyed indoor games, amateur theatricals and gardening and the occasional treats of picnics, parties and dances. Walking in the country, calling on sick friends, entertaining visitors, chatting with neighbors – doubtless each day was well –filled
Seated at her desk in the family sitting room, she created the world of the Dashwoods, the Woodhouses and the Ellliots, assumed a reality and a significance out of all proportion to ordinary world of Stevenson and Chawton.
Text Courtesy: The Complete Collection of Jane Austen

Love - Ideas for an audio monatge...

The word love can refer to a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes, ranging from common pleasure to intense interpersonal attraction. The diversity of meanings and the complexity of the feelings involved, makes love unusually difficult to define. The concept of love usually refers to a strong, ineffable feeling towards another person. Religions and philosophers have attempted defining love in different ways. It is easy to see love as bonding with a person or a thing. Love is like air it is everywhere but it is hard to pin point that this is it. Scientists say that the amount of love that a person displays is mark of his/her mental health.
I have roughly divided the idea of love into three – First one is Love, then comes romantic possession and finally it is attachment. The first type is more sexual in nature or the attraction is more sexual or it involves sex-drive and bodily measurements. It is physical and it involves fleshy thoughts. We have different variations of the same in our culture. The second type of love is romantic obsession. This type involves romantic passion. This is a much more serious type of love and many see it as a gateway to marriage. Physical equations are applicable here also, but they are minimized. The third stage is attachment and this bonding lasts forever. Scientists have discovered that the chemical involved in this third stage is Oxytocin.

Love and Human child.
To understand the idea called love, we have placed it in the context of the development of a human child. The child is born into a world of love and care. The bond between the child and its mother is hyper- glorified and is used as a central motive in creative arts.

We have plenty examples from the field of poetry, pop music, folk culture. The child is attracted to its mother for various reasons – comfort, protection, and care. As it grows the child shifts its attention from its mother to other things like toys, dress and other fancy, colorful objects. After this short fascination the child moves on to other objects as
Bicycle, Computer, PlayStation and other electronic gadgets like ipods and mobile phones. Once the child reaches the stage of adulthood he becomes aware of the ‘other’ who invariably will be from the opposite sex. This is also the stage where the child becomes more narcissistic i.e. spend lots of time in loving himself / herself. The boy or the girl starts making friendship with others. Some of these friendships may develop into a love relationship which may end in a marriage.

Idea Courtesy (Judy Cobb – The Best of National Geographic Magazine – Podcast)

Month of May, Movies, and Mayhem...

One habit of mine provides me with the much needed energy and enthusiasm to carry on in this world is the movie watching habit. I never miss a chance to watch a good movie. My movie watching habit is little in-depth and peculiar. After watching a movie I always make it a habit to do some research about the movie. I mainly depend on the Internet and that too, Wikepedia and Rotten tomatoes to satisfy my thirst for trivia on movies.
This month I have seen seven movies so far and most of them are infamous for their content and style. I watched two movies of Alfred Hitchcock, one from Stephen King, a documentary on Iraq and finally some other movies which really made me tense...
As I was signing in to post this blog I also came across a blog which seems to specialize in horror movies – see it for yourself at – http://www.finalgirl.blogspot.com/
Now to return to my world of movies and mayhem in the month of May, I will start with the Hitchcockian classics – Notorious and Rear Window. There was a hidden agenda when I bought these DVD’s. The first one had Ingrid Bergman in the lead. I was still under the influence of Casablanca where she had cast a scenic magic spell on me. So there were no second thoughts about this one. The second one had Grace Kelly in the lead. I have read the bio on her by James Spada and was waiting to watch her on the silver screen. So these two movies found their place in my movie kitty.

Stephen King is one of my fav authors and I have also enjoyed some of his screenplays – like Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile. The Mist is a movie adaption of his short story which had the same name. It’s a tale of a group of shoppers who are caught in a store. They cannot come out since the whole area is engulfed by mist which contains you-name-it –you- have – it-kind of monsters/creatures

I also got a chance to watch a documentary which showcased the failed plans of the US government in Iraq. No End in Sight examines the real cause for this failure and does it in a systematic way. A well documented documentary.

Talking about documenting takes me into the next movie which was really good coz it gripped me in a way that even today as I prepare the effect remains. Cloverfield is a movie shot using a handy cam and it shows (documents) the life of five friends and a monster which attacks their city. The whole movie is told from the point of the camera which I think is the back bone of the movie.

Activities of a Lifetime...

I began my teaching career without any pre-conceived ideas or notions. I was not influenced by Paulo Freire , Frank Mc Court or any other legendary practitioners of the art. I just started flowing like water all these years I have flowed in and flowed out through four different campuses. In all these four places my teaching life was filled with passion and energy. It started in Loyola in the year, 2001 and it continues till date.
Maybe it all started when I was a child, walking through the streets of Calicut. I made easy and quick rapport with people. Some of them were short lived and others exist even today. My parents were not quite happy with this tendency of mine. They like all other parents reprimanded me with the words of caution – NEVER TALK TO STRANGERS. My extra-gelling habit always became handy in my teachers profession. The only thing is that it sometimes it went beyond the limits and has led to many bad situations. The one involving the Rajasthan Episode and the other one involving the College Road remains stale and rotten in my memory.

At Loyola it was just the beginning… starting with newsletters me and student friends embarked on a journey beyond the classrooms. I really got the kick out of all these activities. As I write this blog, I am still counting the number of activities that I did in Loyola. If I arrange them first it was the class newsletters, then came the inter-class presentations, a lovely exhibition on world religion, the audio CD titled ADI, then the multimedia presentation titled – THE POWER OF ONE, audio-visual presentation based on Dominique Lapierre’s book – It was Five Past Midnight in Bhopal. All these projects were done through sheer team work and co-operation from my students.

When I came to MCC, it was time for action once again. Started with class newsletters and then into forming a club titled- Circle of Lightz. Under the aegis of this club, I did my first theater experiment based on the Diaries of Anne Frank. The play was titled as – Man – An Awakening. After two performances, one in the campus and the other one in Chennai city, the play and the crew became tired. The second theatrical presentation was based on Macbeth. Personally I liked this one because it was a small group and it was me who sponsored the whole project.

Then Libya happened. I felt little suffocated there. Conservative society. I cannot really blame them, I was a misfit there. Even though the situations were adverse I managed to bring out a newsletter titled – Humane writings… I think it was the newsletter that was published in the history of that university
Coming back to India, once again I plunged into action. Many of the projects are still in its formative stages. I will mention only one project which was completed – that’s the lab journal titled – CLL (Creations of Language Lab). Other projects are in the pipeline.

Divasvapna - Stage adaptation...

Music fades in (Enya – A Day without Rain)
SCENE ONE:
The stage is empty.
Gijubhai enters from the left, he is dressed in Kurta and is got some books in his hand and is wearing a glass. He is in deep thought and is walking up and down the stage. Sometimes he stands in the center of the stage and writes down something in a frantic way. He faces the audience and says…
I believe that education is not about text books and writing exams…
For me education is a system where the student gets a chance to learn by participating and involving himself in a creative way…
I had read and thought about this kind of a system in a great deal, but I have no practical experience. Only then, I thought, would my ideas get shape and form; only then would they mature Time has come for me to act… Tomorrow I will meet the Education Officer and talk to him about my dream…

He walks out of the stage:

SCENE TWO
On the stage there is a table and chair and the Education Officer is seated, he is doing some paper work on his table, books and files are scattered.
Gijubhai enters from the left.

GB: Good morning sir.
EO: (looking up from his work) Morning
GB: Sir, I need your help.
EO: What Help?
GB: I need a classroom in the local school to conduct my experiments in education.
EO: What? Experiments in a classroom? This is the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life?
GB: Maybe it is funny; I am fully prepared to take up the challenge. I have complete confidence in myself.
EO: It is not as easy as you think; It is not like writing an article. You are going to face real problems. Hope you are aware of that.
GB: I am sure that with your support and blessing, I will be able to achieve success.
EO: Ok, then…All the best Mr. Gijubhai… here are the text books that you have to teach
for this academic year.

Gijubhai walks to the left and stands facing the audience. He holds the text book in one of hands and smiles... (In a sarcastic way)

SCENE THREE:
Music fades in (Ishaans Theme)

Gijubhai is seated on the floor, he is surrounded by books and papers, in his hand he has got a writing pad he is busily preparing notes, reading books and scratching his head. He is so focussed that he doesn’t mind the passage of time
(To show the passage of time, the narrator/somebody else walk up, down the stage with a clock in his hand it will start with 10pm, 11pm , 12midnight, 1pm, and then finally ) after some time he starts falling asleep. He finally surrenders to sleep and lies on the floor…
(Music fades out)

SCENE FOUR:

Students on the floor, some are running around, some are throwing paper balls, some sleeping and some are fighting with each other. The bell rings, there is no reaction from the class; they are continuing what they were doing.
The teacher enters with a cane, and chewing paan. He looks at the class and shouts Silence – You idiots…Silence…
No response from the students – they are still the same…
Silence – you morons… there is still no reaction…
Teacher sits on the chair and throws the books on the floor after which he opens his paan box takes out a paan and puts it in his mouth. He yawns and settles himself to sleep seated on the chair. Students continue with their activities. Meanwhile, two students come forward, and look at the teacher walking around him. They try pulling his hair and moustache. The teacher suddenly gets up from the chair searching for the naughty ones. They both hide behind the chair. The bell rings, the students leaves the classroom. The teacher sits in the chair and continues to sleep... (not to be continued)

My World of Strategy Games

We would do anything to escape from the mundane (sometimes mediocre) existence called life. For some this exit happens through ‘colored water’ (some call it booze) for others it is through sucking on the fire at the tip of a cigar (holy smoke). Escapism later on can become an addiction. Maybe, IPL can be considered as the latest entry in this search for an escape route. Interestingly for me, my escape route has not changed for the past few years. For the past ten years I am hooked on to strategy games. When I was a ‘financial parasite’ (feeding on the money from my parents hard earned savings) I used to spend a colossal amount playing strategy games in internet cafés. Some café owners where magnanimous enough that they used to give me a concession as I was not online. The game which got me really hooked on was The Age of Empires and the series that followed like Age of Kings and Age of Kings – Expansion. I loved the game for its rich texture and animation. Earlier I didn’t have a strategy to play the game, but as I progressed through the game I started devising strategies to defeat my opponent. Similarly I used cheat codes to gather resources and to convert my units to destructive weapons. Cheat codes were so handy that, you played with a ‘sadistic confidence’. When I got my own PC, age of empires became a kind of obsession. If my memory is accurate, one night I played for 6 hours. The game itself is a result of much research and planning. Anybody who is curious to know about the history will find enough material here for a research paper. I have become – Attila the Hun, Joan of Arc, Barbarossa, El Cid, Saladin and I felt that I was fighting a real war in the real world. The fascinating part of the game is the CGI; the birds that fly cast their shadows on the terrain below. The monk with his scepter or staff, the paladin and the trebuchet – all add to the majestic nature of the game.

These days I have made some progress in the field of strategy games. I have started playing – The Rise of Nations. Another strategy game which has got more options and richness. The game begins in the Classical age and then progresses to Information age in which you can have a nuclear missile shield. It is again a fascinating game where you can learn about the new art of war. It also has got campaigns by Alexander the great, Napoleon and a campaign where you can take role of a nation and conquer the whole world.
Some other games which I have enjoyed are – Project IGI, Hitman, Medal of Honour, Corvette and NFS series.

Me, My Tales and the Olive Trees…

Foreword

My life in Libya was quite 'uneventful'. It is only after my return to India that I realized that how much of ‘Libyanism’ is within me. I had started writing this short story when I was living there. Once in India, the story became a kind of literary artifact, never explored, but the yearning to do so was there. So time just went by…and it is only after a gap of five months that I re-visited the story which is given below. This is only the beginning; hopefully I should be able to tell all the tales of the old man from the land of the Olive trees – Libya.

Me, My Tales and the Olive Trees…

I am an old man and I live in Tarhuna. The English word ‘old’ is too short to describe my age. I do not have any grudges against the English people or their language. If at all I should be angry, it should be against the Italians not the English. I was born here and all my life I have lived in this small town, surrounded by hills. I do not have much to do in this place except maybe wait for Death. If, you, my dear reader, had noticed a tinge of self-pity in my voice please note that it is not self-pity. It is the voice of a man who has experienced much, has realized much in his life. Old people quite often are misunderstood. Please forgive me if I am talking too much about myself. It is a long time since I have talked to somebody. I am grateful to this writer who made me the central character of this story. It is not that I do not want to talk to people. They simply they do not have the time to listen to me. After the death of my wife Fathima, Oh! She was my best friend and the angel sent for me from heaven. I stopped talking to people. I lead a life of a recluse and kept all my words and thoughts to myself. It was only when I met the writer who told me to share my life that I started to speak out. After the death of my wife I became more of a listener than a speaker. I really am thankful to God for providing me with two ears and two eyes so that I can listen more and see more. Whatever I heard and saw became a tale. I have always felt that the whole world is made up of tales and Tarhuna was not different. It had its storehouse of tales and here I am ready with my tales.

Interestingly the first tale is my own tale or rather it involves me. I do not want to start with the usual way of narrating the tale, i.e. Once upon a time there lived… whenever I listen or read something like this. I feel sad. I feel as if the story happened in a different time and space. I was not there. But, the tale that I am going to tell you is still alive; I mean the characters and the location. It is all around me and I see it every day. The characters are not fairy creatures and the place is not a fantasy land, so far away so unimaginable.

I am walking on the streets of Tarhuna. This place is very familiar but at the same time, these days, it has become strange and alien to me. As a boy, I used to run through these streets feeling the cool breeze against my skin. As a teenager I felt self-conscious and walked with a manly gait conscious of the presence of the blue-eyed ‘hoories’ around me. Now it was during one of these gay sauntering that I saw Fathima for the first time. From that moment she became part of my life and she made me spent sleepless, sweat-love filled nights, and finally led me to clasp her hands in marriage. My walks through these streets continued even after marriage. Fathima always had enjoyed walking and we made the townspeople raise their eyebrows as socially it was not a normal thing to do. Some of them even branded us as the ‘Walking Couple’. This habit of us continued, undisturbed, till the day when Fathima fainted and had to be taken to the house in a cart wheel. She was pregnant and soon gave birth to a child. A boy named Ibrahim, now I felt that Allah decided to make me happy and sad at the same moment. Fathima left me and Ibrahim was given to me.

I used to oscillate between these two feelings for a quite long time after that. Whenever I felt sad thinking about Fathima, Ibrahim would lift up my spirits and filled me with the re-assuring spirit to live once again. I am thankful to Allah for allowing me to draw only momentary inspiration from my son Ibrahim for I knew that he would not be there with me always. I like to compare to him to a wild horse that is just waiting for his time and space to surge forward, never to return.
Thus I walk the streets, alone, once again…
Now the reader should not feel that I have finished telling my story. I have taken enough liberties from the writer to say the tale the way I wanted it to be told.