Arrey Anand babu aap? Aayiye aayiye!

Tere bina zindagi se koi shikhwa
Is mod se jate hain
Rim jhim gire saawan
Aane wala pal jaane wala hai
Yaad aa rahi hai
Yaadon ki baraat
Churaa liya hai tumne jo dil ko
Chhu kar mere man ko
Jeevan se bhari teri aankhen
Zindagi ka safar
Hume aur jeene ki chaahat na hoti
Hume tum se pyaar kitna yeh hum nahin jaante
Manzilein apni jagah hain
Aap ki aankhon mein kuch
Dekha ek khwaab to yeh silsile hue
Yeh kahan aa gayen hum
Zindagi pyaar kaa geet hai
Kya hua tera waada
Meri bheegi bheegi si
Teri bindiya re
Tere mere milan ki yeh raina
Piya bina piya bina basiya
Meet na mila re man ka
O saathi re
Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai
Mere dil mein aaj kya hai
Phoolon ka taaron ka
Hoshwalon ko khabar kya
Huzoor is kadar
Na tum hume jano
Din dhal jaaye haay
Mere naina saawan bhaa do
Piya to se naina laage re
Tu jahan jahan chalega
Hoton se chhoo lo tum
Lag jaa galey ke phir yeh
Ek ajnabi haseena se
Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye
Jis gali mein tera ghar na ho baalma
Tujhse naaraz nahin zindagi
Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi
Nile nile ambar par
Zindagi ke safar mein guzar jaate hain
Yeh laal rang kab mujhe chodega
Hum bewafa hargiz na they
Phir wohi raat hai

Boards don't hit back.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

The crude art of taking offence.
or
How to get pissed off at anybody, anytime and come out feeling self-righteous and superior.

Genius is 99% perspiration. First and foremost, it is necessary to strengthen the fundamentals on which you will act on taking offence, in your spare time - *before an offence-taking situation arises*. Offence-taking par excellence is never a spur of the moment thing, and the actual taking of the offence is the final product, the coup de grâce, the tip of the iceberg for masters of the craft. The cherry tree has to be planted and watered and so on before a president-to-be may chop it down, or not, for historians to argue over. So get to work offline on constantly strengthening the fundamentals every practising offence-taker worth his/her salt ought to know, in order to rise from excellent offence-taking to superlative, and even beyond - to take some truly sublime offence:

i. Never work on resolving your anger issues. Bottle up your grudges and be a veritable pressure-cooker of venom waiting to spout.

ii. Strengthen your pattern recognition skills. Your skill or it's absence for sweeping generalization and identification with a kind may make the difference between taking good hot-under-the-collar offence and lukewarm offence. Or between taking offence at all or not for that matter. You'll see how this matters later in the post.

iii. Perform exercises that screw with your reading and listening comprehension. The reason for this critical inability will become clear below as well. Read a book backwards, or upside down. Read every odd numbered word, or even better - read words in the prime-numbered sequence. While listening to somebody, sing "If I were a rich man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum" to yourself. In a loop. Badly.

iv. Reinforcement: Once every week or so, set aside a half hour to go over a previous offence-taking experience. How would you rate the offence taken? Good? Mediocre? Remember, what is measured, improves. What were the circumstances? What would you do differently if you were given a fresh chance to take offence? What would you keep unchanged? Go back to the righteous indignation you felt then. Has it diminished subsequently? Do you still feel as superior? If not, why? Go after the details. What word or phrase specifically made you take offence? What colour was the underside of the dog that scratched disgustingly in the corner? The question words are your friends. Remember what Kipling said:

"I keep six honest serving-men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who. "

v. Prepare your comebacks. Few would contest the fact that the best part of taking offence is in the ad hominem insults you throw at the fellow that tickled your delicate underbelly. Prepare these in advance. This should not be very hard, since the more irrelevant your insults are, the more satisfying they're bound to be. For yourself. So "You say that because your momma's a goat!" is pretty good. If you want to be a bit classier (but less impactful), you may choose "... cuz your momma's a coat!" instead. Now, that has the added advantage that people may think you read Kafka in your spare time away from preparing insults.

Once you have equipped your arsenal, be on the lookout for occasions to take offence. Now, this needn't necessarily depend too much on the content of what somebody says or writes. Just choose your offender and go gung-ho.

The process needs to be as follows. Quickly pick keywords in the potentially offensive text that may help you label yourself and the offender. The sky is the limit for these keywords. Third-world, developed, coloured, non-native, red, blue, porcupine, concubine, young, old, monotheistic, toad-to-be-a-prince-upon-kissing, man, woman, feminist, misogyny, polyandry and so on. The idea is to pick a label that you may identify with, in your mind; but not the offender -- only in your mind. Now, dig into your deep anger reserves and dish out some vitriolic hatred. This is where your toil-by-the-midnight-oil training comes in handy. The key to taking fine offence is in the speed with which you go from labeling to generalization to cranking up the anger machine. This is exactly where your inabilities in comprehension will help. The more time you spend in understanding what was said, and the more you comprehend it, the less offence you'll get to take. So be swift and decisive. Now it's payoff time. Ready an ad hominem insult from your arsenal, customize it to fit within the labeling framework to make it sound related to what was said (but only ambiguously so to come off sounding intelligent), and fire! Go home with hard-earned high-quality righteous indignation for standing up for your beliefs.

Example: Him: "The Aerosmith concert was too long". Churn. Swirl. Whip. You: "That's because you are getting too long in the tooth!". Touché.

May you take some fine premium quality offence. May people point your way reverentially and say "There walks the taker of great offences!". May your friends be patient and your evenings grumpy. Om Shantih Shantih Shantih.

A Bhishma-Krishna centric perspective of the Mahabharata

Yatra yogeshvarah krsno yatra partho dhanur-dharah
Tatra srir vijayo bhutir dhruva nitir matir mama - Gita 18.78. (Concluding verse)

The Mahabharata consists of multi-layered plots and subplots, multitudinous complex characters. It spans multiple generations, and sometimes the entire historical perspective is necessary to make sense of the story arc. However, as everywhere else, certain simplifications are helpful in crystallizing key elements of the mythos.

At a microcosmic level, and an admittedly circumscribed perspective, the Mahabharata may be viewed as a showdown of ideologies of two main characters: Bhishma, the grandsire patriarch of the Kuru clan; and Krishna, the prime lobbyist for a new world order in the Dwapara yuga.

Bhishma was a stander-upper for the establishment, enforcer-in-chief of the letter of the law. He was unflinching in his loyalty to titular positions, and prefered to go down with the sinking ship of the Kauravas in the Kurukshetra war. His track record of adherance to his vows to uphold the prevalent dynastic values of the time are legendary, and contribute to his monicker.

Krishna was the mercurial iconoclast, impishly charioteering the course of events towards change, while vowing to not wield weapons in a war that, in a who-did-what-to-whom interpretation of the situation, wasn't his to fight.

This microcosmic rivalry plays itself out in the little nugget of an incident hidden in the mighty tome. Bhishma, the steadfast, who never reneges on a vow, vows that he'll make Krishna violate his. Bhishma relentlessly scorched the Pandava warriors - later in the Bhishma Parva, Sanjaya says:


"As regards Bhishma, his car was then his fire-chamber. His bow was the flame of that fire. And swords and darts and maces constituted the fuel of that fire. And the showers of arrows he shot were the blazing sparks of that fire with which he was then consuming Kshatriyas in that battle. As a raging conflagration with constant supply of fuel, wandereth amid masses of dry grass when aided by the wind, so did Bhishma blaze up with his flames..."


Krishna realizes that the Pandavas will not win the war as long as Bhishma is at the helm of the Kauravas. He breaks his own vow, and engages the Sudarshanachakra. At this crystallized moment highlighting the essense of belief-systems of the two personas, Bhishma lays down his own weapons, and is humbly eager to accept what's coming to him. In chessical jargon, he plays the player, and not the board. Krishna, on the other hand, is very much playing the board. If the situation demands his breaking yet another rule, he rises up to it.

Bhishma loves the map more than the topography. As a consequence, he champions a static application of rules, while his opponent stands for a dynamic reading of reality.

Mythos tells us that adharmis do not always come in weird hairdos, resounding laughs and Mogamboesque fashion-sense. Perhaps we lose messages hidden in our mythos. But then, maybe we are wired to cling on to stassis, until it is challenged and overthrown, so that we may cling on to a new brand of stassis.



The Ourorboros, attracted by something wiggly, chases it, bites it, and starts consuming what happens to be it's own tail.

Probably pathological.

And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
-- Iris, Goo goo dolls


I am lying down staring at the popcorn ceiling, about to slide into a comfortable sleep.

* N takes the stage in front of his illustrious peers: a bunch of know-it-all high-schoolers. N is the shy kind. Not given to bombastic pronouncements. This is a subject he has chosen from all possible ones. "There is", he says, "something that can be learned from anyone, regardless of their place. Take my driver, for instance...". I enthusiastically applaud his talk. It seems like a good thing to do.

* C has achieved a romantic understanding of an essentially classical concept: the distribution of loads on a structure. I am busy making my handwriting look good on my notebook.

* J illustrates the quantum states of the electron, employing analogies and anecdotes. It sounds really cool. I consider what I may say that'll sound cooler when I am in his seat the next year.

* I am climbing up the stairs in a familiar building of the hallowed institute. I wonder if I chose to push myself to study (I am terrified of what it'd be like to stop), or if the ball was set rolling earlier on my choices regarding studying (I am terrified of not having a say in the matter). These seem to be the only two options.

* "A poet once said 'The whole universe is in a glass of wine.' We will probably never know in what sense he meant that, for poets do not write to be understood. But it is true that if we look at a glass closely enough we see the entire universe." Feynmann is saying, with an avuncular grin at the camera.

* K is talking about his spirituality. He tells me to go to an open field, or the top of a mountain, where there isn't anyone in sight. "Then" he says,"when all else is quiet, listen to the residual, primordial sound that has always existed - everywhere, all the time, - as white noise...". He is very earnest, and I had no idea he had this side to him.

* Manni and Lola are lying in bed.
Manni: Willst du weg ... von mir?
Lola: Ich weiß nicht. Ich muß mich grad entscheiden ... glaub ich.

* The Buddha sits in the lotus position under the bodhi tree. He extends his right palm and makes contact with the ground, calling upon the earth to witness his moment of enlightenment. Worldly concerns cease to make sense in his momentary circuit of contact with the infinite.

* On the makeshift blackboard is a curve representing the diminution of marginal desirability of every additional piece of candy to a child. A is tutoring me. Sanskrit. "Ekam sat viprah bahudah vadanti (There is one Truth, but sages say it in different ways)" he quotes. He has a taste for the rhetorical.

I can visualize the phrase, and it is monochromatically grey. It disassembles without warning into an alphabet soup and restrings into a fresh pattern of a myriad colours, as I descend into slumber, into what feels like a pit not unlike the one the od'd Renton sinks into in "Trainspotting".

A reader (Sean) of 'The Dilbert Blog' posted this in the comments section today as "brain malfunctions". Quite funny, but I think it hasty to jump to the conclusion that these prototypes of reasoning fallacies are indeed bugs and not features of the workings of the human brain.


"Amazingly Bad Analogy
Example: You can train a dog to fetch a stick. Therefore, you can train a potato to dance.

Faulty Cause and Effect
Example: On the basis of my observations, wearing huge trousers makes you fat.

I am the World
Example: I don't listen to country music. Therefore, country music is not popular.

Generalizing from Self
Example: I'm a liar. Therefore, I don't believe what you're saying.

Total Logical Disconnect
Example: I enjoy pasta because my house is made of bricks.

Judging Things without Comparison to Alternatives
Example: I don't invest in US Treasury bills. There's too much risk.

Ignorance of Statistics
Example: I'm putting ALL of my money on the lottery this week because the jackpot is so big.

Irrelevant Comparisons
Example: A hundred dollars is a good price for a toaster, compared to buying a Ferrari.

Incompleteness as Proof of Defect
Example: Your theory of gravity doesn't address the question of why there are no unicorns, so it must be wrong.

Following the Advice of Known Idiots
Example: Uncle Billy says pork makes you smarter. That's good enough for me!

Faulty Pattern Recognition
Example: His last six wives were murdered mysteriously. I hope to be wife number seven.

Failure to Recognise What's Important
Example: My house is on fire! Quick, call the post office and tell them to hold my mail!

Ignoring All Anecdotal Evidence
Example: I always get hives immediately after eating strawberries. But without a scientifically controlled experiment, it's not reliable data. So I continue to eat strawberries every day, since I can't tell if they cause hives.

Inability to Understand that Some Things Have Multiple Causes
Example: The Beatles were popular for one reason only: They were good singers.

Judging the Whole by One of it's Characteristics
Example: The sun causes sunburns. Therefore, the planet would be better off without the sun.

Taking Things to their Illogical Conclusion
Example: If you let your barber cut your hair, the next thing you know he'll be lopping off your limbs!

Proof by Lack of Evidence
Example: I've never seen you drunk, so you must be one of those Amish people."

Did you feel while reading this that your reasoning patterns are above such speciousness? Do you also believe that you would behave differently from the subjects of the Zimbardo and Milgram experiments, under the conditions of the experiments?

I am walking outdoors next to my apartment complex, heading to the gym for a bike ride. I am wearing my tri-shorts, and a white T on top.

Two kids pass me by. Boys. One is maybe 9, the other 12. Somehow I think they are friends, not brothers. The older one says "Hi!".

Many men/boys pass you by in this part of the world, without recognizing your presence. Sometimes they look at you, but don't return your smile. Anyhow, these kids aren't like that. I'm glad for a moment. "Hi!" I say.

The older one reveals the reason behind his opening salvo. "Love your tights!" he says. The sarcasm in his voice is clear. The younger one snickers. I pass them by, a bit saddened.

I wonder what caused him to make that remark. He doesn't know me, I am just a passer-by. But he found it important enough to make that remark, by first making the effort to establish a short exchange. I think I attribute it to two factors:
i. His desire to reinforce his way of looking at things, his aesthetics, and to subtract mine, through a putdown. This perhaps, adds to his sense of confidence about his place in the world.
ii. His need to strengthen his influence as a role model to the younger boy - there was a hint of appreciation at the smartness displayed by the 12 year old, in the younger one's chuckle. It seemed this transaction upped the 12 year old's status within the little tribe of two.

The World plays chess, and wins

The World improved on its dismal chess record by beating GM Arno Nickel in this game: The World vs Arno Nickel

One of my favourite games of chess is Kasparov vs The World from 1999; Kasparov won. This game also made the young Irina Krush famous among chess enthusiasts, as she grew into the role of The World's most influential advisor for the game.

Korchnoi is interviewed on chess and genii. ESL questions and bad punctuation/editing make it somewhat hard to read:
Genii and wunderkinds

"wakt ne kiyaa kyaa haseen sitam
tum rahe naa tum hum rahe naa hum"

[What poetic injustice time has commited
You are not yourself anymore, I am not myself anymore]


It is there. Wherever you are, whatever you are. Throbbing. Reminding you of something inexplicably, annoyingly important. Showing you the soreness and nakedness of invisible wounds. Demanding a pound of flesh. It is relentless, ostensibly insatiable.


"bekaraar dil is tarah mile
jis tarah kabhee, hum judaa na the
tum bhee kho gaye, hum bhee kho gaye
ek raah par chal ke do kadam"

[Restless hearts met in such a way
As if we never were separated
You are lost too, I am lost as well
On walking a few steps on a common path]


It reminds you sometimes, of the rivers that you have stepped in. It also reminds you, that you cannot step in those rivers again. Tells you where you come from. Demands to know where you are headed. It can be quietened, however, satiated. But its exacting demands are ever morphing. Surprising you, and yet, in ways you could have anticipated. But didn't.


"jaayenge kahaa, suzataa nahee
chal pade magar raasataa nahee
kyaa talaash hai, kuchh pataa nahee
bun rahe hain din khwaab dam-ba-dam"

[Where we are going, I can't comprehend
We have embarked, but there isn't a pathway
Questing for what, is not known
Gradually the days fade into dreams]


It subsides, and when it does you know why. It raises its hydra head again. And you know why again. The nature of the beast lends itself to cultivation. It follows rules, and laws. Some that you know, and some that you don't. It starts out like an excoriating grain of sand in the soft flesh of an oyster. It has the potential to transmute into an exquisite pearl, presumably through unwilling, undesigned, yet meticulous craftsmanship and application.

It ebbs out, but it will always rise one more time. The splinter in the mind.

His signature.

He paced regally, the zenith of the arch
Beautiful as a greek god, an artist's dream
Gazing at infinity, oblivious to the tourists' march
Magnificently quiet, sans whisper or scream
Clad in fine, dark leather, disdainful his stride
Animated his demeanor, exuding vitality and verve
His stare intense, furious like the tide
Life throbbing in his every sinewy nerve

Defiant his swagger, like a stallion's-untame
Repeatedly he reined his mane-uncontained
Mounting with easy grace, he crowned the scarlet frame
Supremely in balance, in a moment time-unstained
Like an acrobat's, mesmerising, his back-flip
Like a shooting star, or a missile misguided -
he plunged, vanishing into a statistical blip.
Cars blazed noisily past the bridge, so prided

" Why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why, why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something, for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is, do you even know? Is it freedom or truth, perhaps peace - could it be for love? " - Agent Smith, 'The Matrix Revolutions'



My purgatory of the mundane

I bear the cross
of the middle path;
Sometimes I obsess
over the trees, and sometimes
the forest springs into relief,
for me
Have tipped my hat, to the good;
raised toasts to the devil
Drooled over form
and embraced substance
Have not drowned
nor floated - neutrally buoyant,
amidst unquiet waters
Having learned to hold dearly,
I never learned
to hold tightly enough
Longings rise from my heart,
without scraping its bottom.
I soar, but ducked under clouds
Icarus I am not, only
my wings are torched, seared like his.
Having torn down
inner constructs, eagerly,
am restrained
by walls without
I am king, and vagabond
in my imposed prison, fettered
by captive captors
Accursed,
forever denied me the simple joys
of the immoderate

Diwali celebrations Oct 13, 2006 at Club Oracle (Second half)
If you wanna watch me dance some :)

Credits to my coworker Chinmaya Hegde for capturing the whole medley on video!

Letting go

Undreamt dreams, unformed memories
Unsaid words, of what could be
Shards of the heart, desires frothing over
Wistful wishes, my fistful of sky
Tender imprints on my mind's canvas
I offer as oblation
into the fire within

Vlad the impaler!

http://www.kramnik.com/default.aspx

Check out some chess games played by interesting people:

Napolean vs. The Turk

Kasparov vs. Sting

Humphrey Bogart vs. NN

Einstein vs. Oppenheimer

Ooh. Groovy! Check out this fight that apparently Nigel and Gata had while kibitzing on the 11th game of the championship match on playchess.com. Very intriguing.

"Nigel Short (Observers): Gata, in our 1994 match you delivered a written protest to the arbiter accusing me of visiting the bathroom too often. Was that done to disturb me, or because you thought I had a desktop hidden in the cubicle?

Gata Kamsky (Observers): ask me something i can remember nigel

Nigel Short (Observers): I remember it well, Gata.

Gata Kamsky (Observers): all i remember is that you started talking to me during the game

Nigel Short (Observers): Yes, and the arbiter had overheard a conversation between your father and yourself immediately after the game. He told you to complain. You said that there was nothing to complain about. And yet within the hour there was yet another written protest about me cheating during this match.

Nigel Short (Observers): I guess Daddy had his way

Gata Kamsky (Observers): i would be careful with making assumptions

Gata Kamsky (Observers): back then i didn't understood your dirty psychological tricks nigel

Nigel Short (Observers): I was also accused of "looking at Anand too much"

Nigel Short (Observers): and what a pity that the match organisers failed to erect a wall on the stage , like you insisted that they must

Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel you had your chance against garry no?

Gata Kamsky (Observers): so stop complaining

Nigel Short (Observers): I do remember the death threat from your father, delivered in an extremely irate manner about 2cm from my face.

Nigel Short (Observers): you won that match by dirty tricks, Gata. And you know it.

Gata Kamsky (Observers): so talk to my father about it

Gata Kamsky (Observers): lol

Gata Kamsky (Observers): looks like a draw to me

Nigel Short (Observers): "Talk to my father"? Why not "talk to Danailov"? we can all benefit from hiding behind our henchmen

Gata Kamsky (Observers): nice try nigel

Gata Kamsky (Observers): trying to do others all work for you?

Susan Polgar (Observers): I think a $1 million match between Gata and Nigel is in order.

Nigel Short (Observers): they have relevance, Susan. It is the only time in my career I have accused of cheating. I was accused repeatedly. There are obvious similarities with the current match.

Nigel Short (Observers): the only thing that Danailov has not done is to physically threaten Kramnik with death

Gata Kamsky (Observers): i have no idea what you're trying to drag me and my dad back into nigel

Nigel Short (Observers): No doubt you would prefer to remember the result, rather than the manner in which it was attained, Gata.

Gata Kamsky (Observers): you mean your little dirty tricks ?

Gata Kamsky (Observers): we can go all day, you have your opinion and i have mine. So let's leave it at that

Nigel Short (Observers): It is funny, how you are the only person to have observed that I am a cheat, Gata. Indeed the protests and accusations went on even when you were 3-0 up. I must have been the most inept cheat in history.

Jon Levitt (Observers): I missed this argument..it sounds personal

Gata Kamsky (Observers): nigel

Gata Kamsky (Observers): i don't want to talk about it, but if you want to do something about this, we can settle this like real men, outside. I'll be waiting

Jon Levitt (Observers): a duel?

Nigel Short (Observers): Yes. That is exactly how your Dad wanted to settle it too.

Gata Kamsky (Observers): it is YOUR problem

Gata Kamsky (Observers): but your insinuations are insulting me

Gata Kamsky (Observers): so put up or shut up

Nigel Short (Observers): Your comments reveal a complete abdication of responsibility. A player is 100%responsible for the actions of his delegation."

A user posted this on www.chessgames.com:

"Monday 2nd of October 2006

Dear Vladimir,

Through absolutely no fault of your own, you have suffered the consequences of an unprecedented combination of unethical behaviour from your opponent and glaring incompetence, for lack of a stronger word, on the part of the Appeals Committee.

In spite of evidently unfair treatment, which has not only resulted in your being forfeited one game, but also being subjected to petty attacks and ridiculous accusations from the opposing camp, you have agreed to continue the match for the sake of reunifying the chess world. This is a very impressive decision. It testifies to your remarkable sense of honour and is worthy of your true status of World Champion.

Regardless of the final result of this match you have earned the deepest respect of your fellow Grandmasters and colleagues as well as countless chess fans around the world. Thank you for being a model sportsman in a time and place where so many circumstances turned against you. You deserve to win.

With unfailing support,

GM Joel Lautier (France)
IM Almira Skripchenko (France)
GM Viktor Korchnoi (Switzerland)
GM Laurent Fressinet (France)
GM Nigel Short (Greece)
GM Alexandra Kosteniuk (Russia)
GM Pavel Tregubov (Russia)
GM Pentala Harikrishna (India)
GM Yannick Pelletier (Switzerland)
WGM Sophie Milliet (France)
GM Lev Alburt (USA)
WIM Anna Hahn (USA)
GM Rustam Dautov (Germany)
GM Yasser Seirawan (USA)
GM Emanuel Berg (Sweden)
GM Helmut Pfleger (Germany)
WIM Olena Boytsun (Ukraine)
GM Vladimir Barksij (Russia)
GM Bartlomiej Macieja (Poland)
IM Maxim Notkin (Russia)
GM Alexander Baburin (Irland)
GM Tony Kosten (England)
GM Alexander Khalifman (Russia)
IM Ilias Kourkounakis (Greece)
WGM Natalia Zhukova (Ukraine)
GM Konstantin Landa (Russia)
GM Michal Krasenkow (Poland)
GM Boris Gelfand (Israel)
GM Alexander Huzman (Israel)
GM Harry Schüssler (Sweden)
GM Jon Levitt (England)"


It gladdens me to see this rallying of top players to offer support to Kramnik, and their unequivocal position in this matter. There is still hope for chess, after all.

Caissa defiled.

This one is for the billions and billions of those who read my blog and happen to be chess fans as well.

Today is a(nother) sad day in chess history, with a high-priest and master practitioner of the fine art stooping to base shenanigans upon finding himself trailing in the championship match in Elista, Kalmykia. The ugly details may be found here: http://www.worldchess2006.com/main.asp.

Turbid events no doubt will unfold in the hours and days to come. News media will have a field day wallowing in scatological situational comedy. Negotiations will be attempted to resolve the incredible deadlock. Some things may be fixed, and others will be irreparably damaged. However, as things stand, only one of the two contenders has demonstrated the dignity and moral fibre befitting a champion. Today I grieve for Caissa.




"Do nothing unless you must, and when you must act -- hesitate." (Isaac Asimov, Foundation's Edge)

"Ekla Chalo Re" (Walk alone) is one of the best known songs of Tagore. I don't speak Bengali, but luckily for me Tagore himself translated it to English.

"Jodi Tor Dak Soone Keu Na Asse
Tobe Ekla Chalo re
Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalore

Jodi Keu Katha Na Kai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Sabai Thake Mukh Firae Sabai Kare Bhay
Tabe Paran Khule
O Tui Mukh Fute Tor Maner Katha Ekla Balo re

Jodi Sabai Fire Jai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Gahan Pathe Jabar Kale Keu Feere Na Chay
Tobe Pather Kanta
O Tui Rakta Makha Charan Tale Ekla Dalo re

Jodi Alo Na Dhare Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Jharr Badale Andhar Rate Duar Deay Ghare
Tobe Bajranale
Apaan Buker Panjar Jaliey Nieye Ekla Jalo re"


"If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou of evil luck,
open thy mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou of evil luck,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou of evil luck,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone."

The audio may be found here:
http://www.calcuttaweb.com/gaan/rabindra/index.shtml


Far from being an inspired choice at a moment of reckoning, solitude is the only option for figurative forays into recesses of inner space. This existential actuality is neither epiphanic nor unremarkable. Neither reassuring nor unnerving. Or perhaps it is both. Perhaps it depends on what day of the week it is. Or on whether Schrödinger's cat is alive or dead.


And here is the first paragraph of Makhanlal Chaturvedi's "Pushp ki Abhilasha" (A flower's wish)

"Chah nahin main surbala ke
gahano mein gootha jaun
Chah nahin premi mala mein bindh
pyari ko lalchaun
Chah nahin samraton ke shav par
he hari dala jaun
Chah nahin devon ke sir par chadhun
bhagya par ithlaun"

"It's not my wish to be woven into the maiden’s necklace
Or be part of the lover’s garland
It's not my wish to be the wreathe for dead kings
Or the crown of deities grand"

(Translation's not mine)

The next paragraph is about what indeed is the flower's wish. However, I find what its wish isn't to be of more riveting interest.