23 March 22 at Boggini Park San Jose

Evening 5 pm

I went to Boggini Park , a 15 minute walking distance from home. It was evening 5 pm. Sunny day. Park has a large field and a few trees and some benches to sit.

I sat on one of them and started listening to Doreswamy Iyengar’s veene , probably a 50 years old concert. I imagine Iyengar ( seen him and attended a concert in Bangalore ,  a fine gentleman ) after a lunch and a  siesta and a coffee perhaps and  sitting in a verandah and playing ( though it was a concert and one could hear applause at the end of kriti ). It has that personal feeling. He must be sporting a long red namam on his forehead. It is still 5 pm or so and evening sandhyavandanam is still some time away. Veena sounds melodious, unpretentious and has an intimacy as if  he is talking to a close friend of several years. It invokes peace,

I keep looking at the far away hills. It has green patches but is generally dry. There are valleys between the hillocks where it is green, Looks lovely in the evening sun.

For some reason I recall Chamundi hills and also  a small hillock near Gavipuram where I used to go to watch the sun set. It has a tinge of melancholy. Bonde once offered a reason for this and I forget what. I feel all these belong to me. Not in the sense of ownership but of relationship.

From a different setting :

         Hills are alive with the sound of Music …….

I look out and see boys getting ready for baseball. First, warming up and then catching practice. No girls though. Even in San Jose no girls are seen playing in a batch of asian and a few white kids. A boy runs looking at the ball and catches it at the last moment, I hear a shout of joy. 

A dog runs across the field to catch a ball thrown by the man.I presume the dog is happy as it wriggles its tail.

I miss playing. I recall a young  boy called Vishwa . A sixty five year old memory. He was short but played well. His square drive and straight drive were particularly pleasing to look at. I also recall a narrow and long passage ( ‘  ooni ‘ ) where we played cricket. Only defense and straight drives were possible. I often wonder how I miss playing ( irrespective of my abilities ) any thing. Only chess remained with me, But the joy of a team game is gone.

A football is kicked and it soars into the sky. A child runs to catch it with shrieks of excitement.

Two young girls hug each other and remain so for sometime. Perhaps whispering that their friendship is forever.

I look out. A hummingbird keeps coming back as if it is dancing for me. I say hello. I wonder how delicate and fragile it is. But does amazing things. If I were to hold it in my hands it might tremble and even die of shock. Why does it dance and flies away?

My imagination soars. How am I or how any one is not equally transient, fragile, delicate.  

One moment here and the next moment gone,

I sat for one hour. I could see three or four elderly Indians on a bench talking and eating. Words of wisdom no one wants to listen to. No one to share their experiences .

I watched the movie War and Peace two days back. I have also read the book earlier a couple of times. Somewhere one of the characters exclaims how all acts are never  trivial nor  important. We indulge in acts  to escape life.  Life is eternal and he shouts in joy that everything is for him and he is a part of everything. Shankara must have felt like that. Aham brahmasmi.

There is a light breeze. Still I shiver a bit. I walk across the field. The soft grass and small weeds and unexpected ups and downs give me a tactile experience. Alternate shadows and sunlight make me feel cool and warm. What more does one want ?

Away there is a lonely tree all alone in its splendour. ( akelo chollo it says to me )

My mind is at peace and devoid of thoughts.

 Harikathe

I listen to a modern Harikathe, in cassette form, perhaps 25 years old. It brings back so many memories.  

Harikathe has been fascinating for me from a young age. I attended the first one when we came to Bangalore in 1958. We were in Chamarajpet which was full of ardent fans of Harikathe. Brahmins , generally salaried employees,  traders, working class, and ‘ ಇತರೆ  ಜಾತಿ  ‘  were fond of Harikathe.  There were old people, adults, teenagers and children.

My friends like Kittanna, Ramesha  were instrumental in kindling my interest. Kittanna's elder brother Kuppuswamy was too sophisticated for Harikathe and his younger brother Venkatesha was a sort of self declared intellectual and he would pick and choose. We had no such illusions about ourselves. Kittanna would come home and announce that Gururajulu Naidu would conduct a Harikathe that day.  It could be ನಲ್ಲ ತಂಗಾಲ್ , ಮಾರುತಿ ವಿಜಯ . ಮಾಯ ಬಜ಼ಾರ್ , ಬೇಡರ ಕಣ್ಣಪ್ಪ , ಭಕ್ತ ಕುಂಬಾರ , ರೇಣುಕದೇವಿ ಮಹಾತ್ಮೆ Generally it was in Dasa tradition but tales about Shiva were also popular.

 

Gururajalu Naidu -  ಗುರುರಾಜುಲು ನಾಯಿಡು - was one of the most popular Harikathe Dasas. But there were others like  ಅಚ್ಯುತ ದಾಸರು , ಕೇಶವ ದಾಸರು , ವೆಂಕೋಭ ದಾಸರು ,ವೇಣುಗೋಪಾಲ ದಾಸರು , ವೆಂಕಟೇಶ ದಾಸರು   --- Keshava Dasaru, Achyuta Dasaru, Venkobha Dasaru, Venugopala Dasaru, Venkatesha Dasaru …

 ' Pure ' Madhwa   Brahmin, ವೇಣುಗೋಪಾಲ ದಾಸರು   ,   untouched by humour always ‘ preached ‘ only at Madhwa Sangha and hence not popular. His audience were old women, often widows and very traditional elderly Madhwas.

 

But general audience for Harikathe were - ಬತ್ತಿ ಹೊಸೆಯುವ ಮಡಿ ಹೆಂಗಸರು,  ವಿಧವೆಯರು , ಹೂವು ಪೋಣಿಸುತ್ತಿರುವ ಮುತೈದೆಯರು  enquiring about juicy domestic happenings, mourning about bad times, misbehavior of daughters – in- law , today's dinner, coming ekadasi , ಕೆಟ್ಟಿರುವ ಕಲಿಕಾಲ , men discussing politics, younger adults  talking about movies and romanticizing and teenagers giggling...

 

It would start around 8 pm. Generally people would finish their dinner and come. There would be traders and more so shopkeepers who would listen for an hour or so and then leave for home for dinner.

 

Temple, Rama Mandir or any open ground were the places where Harikathe would happen. We would sit outside, sometimes on the road, on footpaths, on culverts, on branches of trees, on covered water drainages..  there was no dust, no hard surface, no discomforts in our world … everything was ok. No complaints. 

If you are sitting / standing a little away, not in the line of sight of Dasaru , you could  have the luxury of eating  ಕಡಳೆ ಕಾಯಿ.

Sometimes someone unimpressed by Harikatha would get into the temple for a darshan of God and return home  satisfied after ringing the bell loudly a couple of times  disturbing everyone.

Harikathe would be a concoction, delicious and ever changing, of story, music, jokes.

 

Some wanted the story to proceed without break.

Some would enjoy the singing.

Younger ones would wait for jokes.

 

It was a free and flexible format. One could add any song , any joke, any meandering, homilies, anecdotes real and imaginary and  ( very rarely ) sermons.

 

 

Time would merge.  Effortlessly we moved on from Dwapara yuga to kaliyuga ; Vedas to Gandhi ;  palace to forest to crowded streets ; Harichandra to Rama to Meera to Purandara dasa ; if Tirupati gets earlier pride of place than Kurukshetra so be it. A joke about a politician, current problems, price rise,  miseries of kali yuga ,  why even the corner store (  'I have to pay a debt of 4 annas to Mitra Stores – Bakery  ' , Dasaru would exclaim ),  songs of various types – could be a  ranga geethe, movie style song, may be from Kumaravyasa or Jaimini Bharata , some Sanskrit sloka to show the erudite skills  – all seamlessly would merge with Balarama, Krishna, Parvati , Narada, Indra...

Language, Kannada, would be old classic, modern one, colloquial  , sometimes from Bangalore, Dharwad or Udupi and sometimes embellished by Telugu, Tamil.

 

Tone would be irreverent in general although now and then ‘ ಶ್ರೀ ರಮಾ ರಮಣ ಗೋವಿಂದ , ಗೋವಿಂದ ' ,  ' ಹರ ಹರ ಮಹಾದೇವ ', ' ಶಂಭೋ ಶಂಕರ ', ' ವಿಠ್ಠಲ ವಿಠ್ಠಲ ಪಾಂಡುರಂಗ ' ( when the sponsor was a Marathi person)   would  energize not only the singer but also wake up everyone.  Would bring back the focus. He could add any dialogue and make the character speak that. At their best , Dasas were exuberant and innovative . They might have been poor and uninformed but on the stage they had to look authoritative, wise and at least slightly larger than life figures. I recall them with sympathy and fondness.

They ( Dasaru ) were not liberals nor advocated any social causes. They were traditionalists, conservatives within bounds of caste , religion and gender rules. Gururajalu Naidu is fine on the dias but no self respecting Brahmin would invite him for dinner at home. People of other religions or dalits did not exist in their ecosystem.

They tried to be as inclusive as was possible. Brahminism was not promoted. But general moral, cultural aspects like ‘ hadibadaya dharma’ ‘ Pativratha dharma’ ‘ honesty ‘ ‘ faith in God ‘ , ‘ Duty towards parents ‘ were touched upon ( ಪತಿವ್ರತೆಯ ಧರ್ಮ , ಹದಿಬದೆಯ ಧರ್ಮ, ಹಿರಿಯರಲ್ಲಿ ಗೌರವ , ತಂದೆ ತಾಯಿಯರಲ್ಲಿ ಭಕ್ತಿ, ದೇವರಲ್ಲಿ ಭಕ್ತಿ ).

 Social duties like cleanliness, helping neighbours, giving financial help etc were not the topics for them or for the audience. 

There was another side to them. They were poor, kind, polite people without malice towards anyone.  They never advocated any revenge, hatred or disrespect towards any one. Not  even annoyance could be seen if people were tight fisted. 

They worked hard during the ' season ' because come monsoon there would be no business whatsoever.

ಮಂಗಳಾರತಿ  time was a small break for the Dasaru but more importantly to get some collection. We might have heard  ದಾನ ಶೂರ ಕರ್ಣ  just then but most would hardly contribute anything substantial,  4 annas would be the limit.They would reverently accept the ಮಂಗಳಾರತಿ though.   

 I recall 

ಎಲ್ಲಾರು ಮಾಡುವುದು ಹೊಟ್ಟೆಗಾಗಿ

 ಗೇಣು ಬಟ್ಟೆಗಾಗಿ

         ತುತ್ತು ಹಿಟ್ಟಿಗಾಗಿ

         ... ನಾನಾ ವೇಷಗಳೆಲ್ಲ ಹೊಟ್ಟೆಗಾಗಿ ....

 

 

Most importantly :

ದೇವ ಬಂದಾ ನಮ್ಮ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ ಬಂದಾನೋ

Who said , We have to rise to the level of Gods.

No, Gods came to us. We did not have to go to them.

God would descend to us, sit with us after juggling for space, listen to jokes about Him, songs in praise, and even tolerate abuse ‘ ನಿಂದೆ ‘. 

This is a fascinating aspect about Hinduism if left undisturbed by modern devotees. In our world there is no global God, no global maximum or minimum. Always local maximum and minimum. There are multiplicities of Gods and in fact they get added or erased over time. They speak our language, our dialect and look like us. They are moody, cranky and difficult to please sometimes but become quickly mollified, They are friends, bosses, lords, lovers ( only if you are a woman ! ) . Harikathe would reflect these values and concepts. We as people could tolerate many idiosyncrasies   in our Gods but not amongst us. Often we were stupid, callous, uninformed but tolerant folks.

 

 

 Adda

 

This was in 1995 or so in TCS. I was heading the Engineering Services Group and our operations in India were in many places like Bombay, Delhi, Bangalore, Calcutta etc. We had a young and energetic Bengali working out of Calcutta . I wanted him to shift to Bombay as there was urgent work in Bombay and projects were scarce in Calcutta. He was reluctant. When I went to Calcutta I tried to reason with him but was not succeeding.

 

In the evening we went out for dinner and on the way I think I picked him up. A few meters from his house he pointed out a small circle . There was  a tree at a side with a round bench where people could sit. He said that is where he and his friends met almost everyday in the evening.

 

‘ We chit chat discussing, debating, arguing about politics, religion, movies , music and what not. Over Chai and smoking cigarettes. If I come to Bombay where will I find this ‘ Adda ‘ , he asked.

 

I gasped. He had a point. Life may lose a bit of charm away from here.

 

Now sitting at home due to Covid I definitely and more wholeheartedly agree with him.

 

 

Colonial Man

 

 

Probably in 1995 when I was in TCS. I had gone to London to meet one of our clients in Woking,  a few kms outside London. I spent three or four days there. TCS was not paying generously for Hotels so I stayed in a place called ‘ Little Holland ‘ , a home owned by an aged British couple. I was a paying guest.

 

The man ( I will call him John as I have forgotten his name ) was in his 70s and his wife perhaps a couple years younger or appeared so. Both became friendly. His wife once told me that she goes to Harrods once a year. I asked if it was not an expensive shopping place. She smiled and told me that once a year there would be discount days around Christmas. She would go around but really not buy anything expensive. At the end she would sit down and have tea.  Tea served in beautiful porcelain cups. She appeared so content reminiscing.

 

Now to the ‘man of the house’. John had gone to India ( Bombay ) during Raj days. Had some vague memories. ‘ Those were the days ‘ , he felt. He said that nowadays a lot of immigrants descend on Britain and life has become increasingly difficult for them ( Britishers ). I smiled and told him that they came and colonised us and had a gala time for two or more centuries, Now it is our turn. To my surprise he was not upset with me.

 

He told me in confidence that his son, a sales person,was trying to sell a European car to him. 

He said ,’ but I know better. I will always go for Japanese cars. They are efficient and economical . My son gets good commission selling European cars , But I won't fall for his sleek talk. ‘ The irony of Japanese dominance escaped him.

 

Later that day I met his son when I was chatting with his father. He asked me how I could tolerate him . He is such a bore he said.

 

After dinner John told me that he talks to Him everyday. I was confused.  ‘ With whom’,  I asked. ‘ God ’,  he replied without hesitation.

 

I was to leave the next day early in the morning. I settled the bill with the lady , said GoodBye . I told her that in the morning I would get a cab and quietly leave around 4 305 am .

 

Morning came. I quietly dressed and carried my suitcase down the stairs. To my surprise John was there dressed and waiting. His wife told me that he insisted that he had to drop me to the airport. I protested in vain. He drove me to Heathrow . wished me warmly on a good trip . I am not lying when I say that his voice was choked. 

 

I wondered for a long time ‘ How and Why ‘ of it. All I did was to  listen to him. Did  that bridge the gap of age, culture, race , beliefs !

 

I always recall his kindness.

 

 

 

Sandyavandana on Thames 

 

 

Infosys 1998. We were trying to establish a new Business Unit. We had a very capable Engineer ( earlier worked in L & T ) Mr Gopalan with us. He was an Iyengar tall and well built. He had a ‘ naama ‘ predominantly shining on his forehead. Had a good sense of humour. Hard working. He joked , when I had two accidents driving my car , that they were basically because of my slow driving. He was soft spoken but when he was behind wheels he became a demon. Such speed and recklessness I have not seen. He was a strict, extremely strict , vegetarian , non smoker and teetotaler. He was not willing to eat in the canteen because it also served non vegetarian food. I had a unfounded suspicion that he did not want to eat with non Brahmins too. I can not be sure.

 

I had to send someone to the UK to visit a client and pacify him. Gopalan was an ideal candidate as he had the right background. I called him and told him that he has to go to the UK for a week. He was silent. After some coaxing he said that he does not want to go. I reminded him that in the interview ( while selecting him ) I had specifically said that no one can insist or refuse an assignment abroad wherever it was. He agreed that it was so. Still…

 

I wanted to know why.

‘ I don’t eat outside ‘, he said. I said you could stay with Infosys chaps already there. ‘ They are not vegetarians ‘, he said. I will ask them to forego non vegetarian food for a couple of days. No improvement . He had become serious. Reluctantly he said he had to do ‘ Sandhyavandanam ‘. I said , ‘ what is the problem. Like people pray to Mecca from London , you could do your prayers’.

 

  ‘ Sir you do not understand. How will I recite :

 

 

jambu dweepe, bharata varshe, dandakaranye, godavaryah dakshine teere ……

 

in London ? ‘

 

I was speechless. Still I persisted.  ; Your career may suffer ‘ I said. He replied with equanimity , ‘ It is OK sir ‘.

 

I told him that  I greatly respected  his integrity .

 

He has retained fondness and affection for me. It is mutual.It became clear when I met him a year back. 

 

Temple for an Atheist

 

 

ISRO 1980 or so. I got acquainted with Compounder Satyanarayana as we were boarding the bus at the same stop. He had worked earlier with a famous doctor Ramarao in Chamarajpet. We used to go to Dr Ramarao for consultations . SoI knew him even before ISRO days.  Over many trips to ISAC often I would sit next to him. He would cover his mouth by hand and talk. Many times it would be difficult to make out what he was saying. He became more and more religious and his black ( and later black and white  ) beard and moustache grew wildly. And with his glasses on he was a fearsome sight for the new. 

 

He had inherited some land far away from Bangalore and he gave it away to a trust so that a temple / mutt / ashram could be built. He was a bachelor. He was collecting money for his temple. I gave him a substantial amount ( relatively speaking ) at least compared to others. In the name of my mother. He was very happy and would report the progress almost every day. He had no other interests . So I knew how a philanthropist  had donated money for the ‘ gopuram ‘, how the idol was getting sculpted according to Shastras, how it was blessed by some swamiji etc. I had no heart to tell him my lack of interest. After a few years the temple was complete but by then I had moved out. WhenI came back to Bangalore to join  Infosys he traced me and insisted that I visit the temple. Reluctantly I agreed. We ( my wife and I ) went there and the car journey took more than an hour. He was waiting. He made me remove my shoes , put some cloth around me and made me walk behind him circling the sanctorium several times. I was also holding a large fan  and waving it as he recited ‘ Datta, Datta, Datta ‘. Then we sat down and heard some more about the holy place. He had retired and settled down there. 

 

It was impossible to show any disbelief. In fact he would have laughed it off even if I had tried. His sincerity, honesty and integrity made me shut my mouth.

 

 

Scottish Humour

 

 

We made a trip to Scotland in 2014 or so. We went around Scotland on a bus journey. It was fabulous. In one of the towns we ( the entire group ) stayed in small hotels. Ours was a small one, with  decent , clean rooms. Breakfast was ordinary and I hardly had any other than coffee. I took two bananas with me. The manager / owner came and told me that I am not supposed to take it. It is only Breakfast and you can not take it for dinner, he added. I felt insulted and angry and left. Next day morning we were to leave. We checked out and I asked him for a Guest comments Book. He looked serious but brought it. My wife nudged me not to write. I wrote somewhat similar to this :

 

I have enjoyed Scottish hospitality so far and the trip has been memorable. But here I am exposed to another side of Scotland. The thrifty, in fact, fairly miserly nature of its people and to top it off the rudeness was simply unacceptable. The stay was comfortable but the treatment was bad. Not worth two bananas.

 

The owner was hovering around waiting impatiently. I closed the book and proceeded towards the bus. My wife was already inside and then I saw the man running towards me. I was a little perturbed but was ready for a fight. He came and took my hands and shook it heartily. ‘ Worth two bananas’ ,  he exclaimed and laughed merrily. I like your humour, he said. We departed with smiles.

 

No country for the old

 

 

It was 2012 and Sunnyvale. Mythili was an intern in Cisco and was living in an apartment. We stayed with her. She had no car. Used to take a tram to work. I used to go to a   Costco store - first a walk, then tram, then a bus . Buy something and return. The entire trip would take 2 - 3 hours. While waiting for the bus at Costco I met a woman in her sixties or more also waiting. She had a couple of  bags full of items. We chatted. She told me that she lived a little far and the bus would take approximately 45 minutes to one hour to reach her place. She was alone. I asked her why she could not manage these in the neighbourhood. She looked at me and after a short silence said that she comes all the way because this gives her some excuse to spend some time. It hit me. The curse of loneliness. I instantly felt a bond with her. It is the same everywhere. I was lucky that is all.

I helped her with her bags and wished her well on getting down.

 

 

 

Peace For our generation and after

 

 

I was in ISRO and it was perhaps 1990. There was a Russian ( Soviet ) visit and I was one of the people involved in the discussions.The discussions with my counterpart were rather heated. At one point he ( Ashtoshkin ? ) exclaimed something in Russian. Our translator Tarun Goswamy ( of Integration ) , my friend, was slightly upset and to cover it smiled weakly. Astoshkin was red in the face and got up and went to smoke. At first Goswamy would not tell me anything. After a lot of coaxing he said that the Russian said that  I was either an Academician or a scoundrel. To his surprise I smiled. After a while when I shook hands with Ashtoshkin and smiled his face became red.

 

In the evening there was a party at Barton Court. We had a good time over Vodka. After a few pegs a person , Russian , not in our group,  came to me and said ( he knew English )  that he wanted to talk to me. We went out to the balcony. He said that he was in a military tank for sometime in the war. Perhaps in Afghanistan. He said the only thing he was thinking of was about his family. Our children and grandchildren should live in peace, he said. Wiped a tear. I just hugged him. 

 

A Monk

 

In 2006 I went on a trekking trip . While returning in a junk jeep of world war 2 heritage we met with an accident. The jeep rolled back into the valley. Of the eight passengers one died. A few had injuries. It was extraordinary luck that we survived.

 

Next year I went again this time  alone. I wanted to revisit the place. I wanted to overcome any residual effects of the accident.  I also wanted to stay in Ralang monastery for two or three days. With some influence and luck someone I knew was able to persuade the autorities to let me stay. The stay was fine. I did not go out anywhere and ate and drank ( frugal ) whatever they gave. It was a monastery for training future monks. So many young children were there ( often sent there because of poverty ). I met a monk and chatted with him. In the course of our conversation he told me that he had to go through the last 18 months with no contact with the outside world. He would study, listen and pray or meditate. But no talk whatsoever. Silence. I asked him how he felt. He said that the last few months  were very difficult. The isolation almost drove him to madness. I asked him if it was worth it. He did not answer.

Evolution

Evolution


Pandemic has given me enough time and luck has given me ready access to knowledge and entertainment. I have been watching PBS DVDs on Evolution.

I have read about Evolution several times ( as I could not understand fully at first or even now ) . Articles and books by Jay Gould, Richard Dawkins, Wilson  and others were eye openers. It  is fascinating.

It is the story of life evolving from the beginning. Unity of life linking plants, birds and animals and humans of course. Just to imagine that Darwin ( others had also worked on different aspects ) could discover / propose a theory to explain the progression over millions of years is amazing, Sometimes I wonder if Evolution or its discovery - which one is more amazing !

If I hold hands with a rat ( say ) and keep going back in time we would meet rat's mother, grand mother and my own mother, grand mother etc . I and rat after many many generations will meet the common ancestor.  ‘ Great great great….. greatma ‘  both will exclaim.  We become distant cousins. In the same way if I and Hitler or Gandhi or Pele or Madhubala or Hawkins … walk back in time ,  we will meet the common ancestor in Africa.This unity of life ‘ truly stirs the soul ‘ as one narrator puts it. I recall a Sanskrit phrase ‘ Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam ‘.

I recall a poem by Dylan Thomas , titled , ‘ The force that through the green fuse drives the flower ‘ :

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.



Then there is natural selection. Random, small mutations leading once in a while to tiny features that aid in survival ; and these traits get passed on to next generation ( DNA ) and over time nature favours these. And new species emerge. Evolution does not need God to explain.  He does not find a place. Darwin’s theory of Evolution makes many ‘ truths ‘ held by Christians, Muslims or Hindus ( because of what  their sacred books say ) completely false. Where do we place God in this ? Did He create  the first single cell and said  ‘ Go ‘ and then promptly went to sleep ? In particular , personal, prayer hearing, healing, punishing , forgiving God is difficult to accommodate. The grand design evolves with out any purpose or direction and is amoral.

At first it is disturbing as it leaves us, humans , on no special pedestal and we feel lost. Then I remember that I have the company of fellow beings - thousands of species of  bacteria, insects, birds, fish, animals and countless varieties of plants. We are one. I look up confidently. It shakes us up, yes. I am left speechless, dumbfounded, yes. But  awe and wonder replace fear and isolation.

The place of Darwin with Newton and Einstein and such scientists is so obvious after yone watches this.

The videos contain simple explanations and dazzling insights.I keep telling any one who cares to listen ( not many though ) to  watch and if possible with family and youngsters.

Single Mindedness

I watched a movie '  Jiro dreams of Sushi   ' on Netflix. I thoroughly enjoyed it.  Even though I dislike 

watching slicing of fish, packing a live octopus, sampling of flesh etc. it was still a good one. 

  

There were many things that impressed me  in the movie. Well made movie.  It is not pretentious or patronizing.  No gimmicks. Simple and direct. A completely different experience. I wish someone would make such a movie on our chef, our food. We are a land of ‘ Nala ’ afterall . 

  

The restaurant Jiro owns serves Sushi. One needs to reserve a place at least a month in advance. They seat only a few people. And Chef decides the  menu. The cleanliness , the attention to details, level of customer care is unbelievable. For instance,  Jiro explains that they serve sushi of a smaller size to women compared to men. They place the dishes appropriately if you are left handed. Some customers said that they feel a little nervous and overwhelmed in his presence. It received Michelin 3 stars. It has been there for a long long time. 

  

They knead, massage, slice, squeeze, pat, fish. They stop short of talking to fish ( may be because they are dead ! ). The rice that they serve is cooked at   high pressure and later  ‘ aired ‘ and served (stuffed  inside fish ) at the right temperature. He goes to fish market ( never seen such a market as they show it in the movie. At once clean, hygienic and orderly ) . He samples the fish by pressing the flesh by his fingers. Tenderly at first and then a little harder. His rice dealer is special and sells him a special variety of rice. He refuses to sell it to a five star restaurant ( Hilton ) as he feels they do not know how to cook. Jiro feels that rice and fish are like soul mates and have to be matched. 

He feels a french Chef ( forget his name ) he met was the best in terms of sensitivity to taste and smell. If only he ( Jiro ) had it then he would have made even better Sushi. He also says that if Chef does not have better taste than his customers , how can he satisfy them. Also,  if he ( Jiro ) does not enjoy his preparation how will his patrons enjoy ? 

  

That reminds me of some ( perhaps all ) musicians enjoying themselves as they perform. Their enjoyment spreads like a sweet perfume to others. Or a cricketer on successful completion of a cover drive executed to perfection smiles. 

  

Jiro's philosophy of living to attain perfection, work , work, work ( he enjoys though ) , even dreaming of new ways of making Sushi is incredible. A single focus, sacrificing everything ( rather ignorance of everything else ) for his passion, not fostering ties with family  or friends has its romance. And it goes for long periods of time. An apprentice takes ten  years or more ! 

He takes no holidays. He feels miserable when forced to on account of national holidays. He feels supremely happy to return to work. I recall Basavanna's  saying  ' kayakave kailasa ' 

   

Sometimes I am attracted by such passion for perfection. Attraction may be the wrong word . It could be admiration . It reminds me of some musicians like Kishori Amonkar or Vilayat Khan or a Vasudevachar practicing at 4 am .  Intense, almost inhuman efforts  ,no smiles, single mindedness, rigid ... Not all can be fitted into this description. But that is what I imagine them to be. 

  

  ( I do not know where to fit in a person like Kittappa  ( SGK ) in to this narrative. He was a stage artist ( singer ) in20's and would sing fabulously on stage. (T.N. Rajarathnam Pillai who had recognized the talents of SGK said that it was only SGK whom he considered to be in the forefront in the field of singing, and no one else).  Several  encores were common.  Many admirers , often Vidwans , would want to meet him at the end of the show. Kittappa would panic ( this is the story. True or false does not matter )  and plead with his colleagues to tell him the Ragas of various songs he sang. He would be petrified to face Vidwans and not able to converse intelligently. He died at the age of 27 ) 

  

But by and large I do not prefer this ( not that I have such talent or passion ) pursuit of perfection throwing everything else to the wind. I prefer a relaxed life, or rather a life with diversified interests. In books, music, science, dance, movies, travel , friends, family, politics, history ... Not for me  ' one life , one goal  '  attitude. Also I want different combinations such as drink in one hand, the other encircling a loved one - wife, daughter or grand son; listen to Saigal when it is raining ; watching the sea or a glacier and reading ; eating a delicious food with a close friend ; awe struck at advances in science ; enjoying a movie,  sometimes completely insane; taking positions completely different from what I would have done a few years back … 

  

Not for me Steve Jobs’ advice ‘ follow your dream ‘ . One might have many dreams. Different ones at different times. One might follow a man/ woman ( literally too ), follow a career, follow a book, follow a movement , follow nothing and so on.  

  

I am not implying that if one is obsessed with a single thing it is less of a life. No. I admire them but will not adopt even if I could. 

  

I imagine meeting someone with a single focus . Could be XXXX. For what I know she / he may have many more interests than pretentious me . For a moment assume she / he does not, Even in my imagination I am timid and weighed down by the knowledge that she/ he is a great singer. I gather all my courage and ask her if she regretted not doing many other things. Like ? Have you read this or that ? Do you know what Darwin did or what weird things happen in Quantum mechanics ? Roamed in Himalayas ? Had any Gin or Vodka ? Cricket ? Romance ? Watched any movies recently ? 

I know that if I interview myself and ask such questions , it will be a great embarrassment. 

  

Do not get me wrong. I do not imply that my interests have to be the interests of others. Nor do I say an intense person can not have diverse interests . Nor I miss recognition of  my own limitations in depth and breadth. 

I just wonder if a single mindedness limits life ? 

I find it very interesting that Japanese ( may be some ) also admire ' wabi- sabi '. 

From what I read and to quote from Wikipedia :

In traditional Japanese aesthetics, wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete".

Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and appreciation of the ingenuous integrity of natural objects and processes.

It seems to contradict Jiro in many aspects.

I prefer that.

Tell me what you feel.