Write home about

I watched quite a few uninspiring movies, traveled a bit - even to Madurai which usually at least inspires a blog or two, but haven't found anything to write home about. It is the dilemma of a blog that is sort of neither here nor there. My blog is not intended as an update of what I am doing on a particular day or week to my friends, nor is it the Bridget Jones's diary equivalent. Though I could potentially write it as the latter - we do share one thing in common. Nevertheless, I am unable to fight the ennui that engulfs me from time to time when it comes to blogging.

Anyway, 'The Hindu' newspaper today took an interesting diversion from convention that I thought was worth blogging. The broadcast media stuck to conventional coverage of the demise of Bal Thackeray. So did all the western media with their predictable epithets. 'The Hindu' had the editorial - A troubling legacy' and an article 'Why I can’t pay tribute to Thackeray' that were interesting in its lack of sensational adjectives and in its objective commentary despite the time of publication.

Salute to Mary

One of the TV channels flashed the headline - Hail Mary!  And Rajyavardhan Rathore said it right - what a story - woman, married with kids and from the northeast.  I think north east aspect is especially worth noticing. It was quite touching to watch her family celebrating.

On a busy news day - Curiosity on Mars, Gurudwara shooting and Anna disbanding his team, the news channels covered the story with remarkable and unusual sensibility.  Same thing can't be said about the Gurudwara shooting though.

Got reminded of the great Ali.

Covey

I attended one of Stephen Covey's lectures many years ago. After some clever videos and nuggets of wisdom, he opened the floor for questions. And that's when the real fun started.

It was readily apparent Covey was not one of those speakers who would preface their answers mindlessly with 'great question' or had high level of tolerance for anything in the name of question.

There was quite a clamour as many from the audience ostensibly wanted to ask a question. The mic was frantically passed around and many distinguished looking men and women stood up and spoke. But as it happens many times, they were not really questions.

The surprising part was Covey called it. He said, not once but repeatedly, looking the person in the eye, "Sir, I am opening the floor for questions. Not assertions, not comments, not arguments, not opinions disguised as questions. Please step up only if you have a question"

Every time I attend a conference when invariably there is at least one person who does the above, I think of Stephen Covey.

10.129

Was very excited this morning at all the coverage Higgs boson was getting. My faith in popular media is restored.

It inevitably reminded me of the Rig veda, particularly the Nasadiya sukta [10th mandalam]. This verse is the most appropriate salute to this moment, to the eternal quest that nameless whoever of the Rig Veda and the scientists of today share. 


'Who really knows? And who can really tell? When it was born and where this creation come from?
The Gods came after; Who then knows when the universe first came into being?
That out of which this universe came, perhaps it held it firm perhaps it did not,
He who looks down from the heavens only he knows or perhaps not'

Ah, the romanticism of Physics.

Slow track

I am much stuck by the fact that I have been blogging for ten years. I have moved, changed jobs, travelled, gone through so many ups and downs and through all that I have blogged. Yes, some years it was just a lousy single post, but still I am thrilled. 

I never imagined this point. It makes me wonder what is it that I am not imagining about the next ten years. Ten years seemed such a long time then. The next ten years does too, but the quick passage of the last ten and the blogs seem to solemnly remind me to choose well what I want to do.

The unconformity of the Cliffs of Moher that I visited last month reinforced this point. 

Slow down, relish that is the theme of the times for me.