Archive for July 21st, 2013

Bad Karma?

Have you heard of a Tantric Yogi who drowned in the Ganges in the city of Varnasi? He died and he was reincarnated as a wooden oar. Every time the ferryman slaps water he will say,’Take this, you damn villain. Didn’t you kill our Yogi?

One day the Yogi said, ‘Oh brother you are doing fine, It is nice to see for once I can make another sweat from exertion! Keep moving.’

What it is to be an Indian? One has to find out for oneself.



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Pen Portraits-Sergei Eisenstein
Sergei Eisenstein (1898-1948)
film director
Despite his career frustrated by many reasons beyond his control Eisenstein ranks as one of the most influential artists of the 20th century. Through his films, his vivid theoretical writings and a wide cultural experience he shared as an artist and as a pedagog his impact goes farther than any other. Luckily for him he found cinema in its unlettered state of a cross between drama and a peepshow where the novelty was moving images against cheap painted backdrop. His groundbreaking Strike (1924) still has vitality and extravagance of the avant-garde; Therein you see how he assimilated wide range of cultural influences from Chinese theater, fairground and Freud. The Battleship of Potemkin a reconstruction of an incident in the 1905 revolution, which combined realism, drama through cinematic means- and documentary style reporting transcended realty of an event (that was chaos to anyone who lived to experience it). What Eisenstein did was to assemble various events and meld them into a feel of reconstructed reality through montage. This film established his reputation worldwide. Thereafter he completed only one film Alexander Nevsky(1938). He could complete only two of the three part grand operatic bio-pic, Ivan the Terrible(1942-1946).

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Samuel Beckett-1906-1989

Irish Playwright, Philosopher

Out of Beckett’s small output of works Waiting for Godot has achieved a cult status and has been seen as a morality play of the 20th century.God or Godot is waited upon but in reality what is holding him up while the world is convulsed by man’s inhumanity to one another? God rubs salt on the wounds of man whose carefully built bulwarks of intellect has crumbled along with faith while a strident march of  science and technology muffles murmurs of celestial host as stuff and nonsense. Existentialism of the Post WWII had brought in, as could be imagined, two  forms of theater,- of the Absurd and of Cruelty. Man according to Beckett aches for oblivion and Godot is a play that took pulse of man’s despair. Remove hope of salvation what have you got? We live in a world of instant gratification. No wonder Beckett is definitely dated.


With the Millennium generation despair is not of a cruel god. Man is a consumer despairing of credit that has dried up all too soon.

Samuel Beckett was born on April 13, 1906, in Dublin, Ireland. He had a distinguished academic career  with two years in Paris (28-29) where he first met Joyce. Without elation or bitterness he lived through two decades of neglect and two decades of fame. As James he  also remained his own man totally dedicated to his art.

During the 1930s and 1940s he wrote his first novels and short stories. He wrote a trilogy of novels in the 1950s as well as famous plays like Waiting for Godot. In 1969 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. His later works included poetry and short story collections and novellas. He settled permanently in Paris in 1937. He died on December 22, 1989 in Paris, France.

Trivia: James Joyce conceded of the younger expatriate,’I think he has talent’. Joyce had  toyed with the idea of him as a prospective son- in- law and  also used him as his secretary while writing Finnigan’s Wake. James’s eyes had gone near blind by then.

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God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches you by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly – not one. ~Rumi

Wide awake to commune with Thee

I know dreams are real:

While asleep

My poor husk of  desires all bound in

A shroud of  ever present:

One curls around pillows and the world

Is tossed between day and night.

(No winding sheets can hold

dreams that seek their level.)

Oh God is it a dream imagined

Or the Now in  her finery

Set out to deceive?

One is a dream too real for this hollow globe

On which fate must decide one way or other.

The other is a gleam that must shimmer or

grow dim with each hour lost in

a dust storm that has strayed from its appointed path.

Athwart awake and asleep

Feeling or thought over

Which state is real or false?





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