As I stroll through a forest with trees tall
I feel like inside a medieval cathedral
with vaulted ceiling and spacious hall.
As I soak in the fresh air,
get lost in the dead silence -
I feel the same eternal peace
that comes from the burning incense.
I feel your presence
I feel a peaceful solitude.
As I walk on a lonely beach
with the cool breeze up on my face,
As I see the surf breaks into thousand mist
and the seagulls soar high -
I feel your grace the same way
when I kneel down to pay my homage,
to show my love at your shrine.
I feel your presence
I feel oneness with you.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
December 14, 2008
Quotations from some famous Indian personality
- One individual may die for an idea, but the idea will, after his death, incarnate itself in a thousand lives - NSC Bose
- A nations' strength ultimately consists in what it can do on its own, and not in what it can borrow from others - Gandhi
- If we exert ourselves with determination, no obstacle, however formidable, can stop our progress - BC Roy
- I have a vision for India - an India free of hunger and fear, an india free of illiteracy and want - Vajpayee
- Think big, think fast. Ideas are no one's monopoly - Ambani
- If you want excellence, you must aim at perfection. It has its drawbacks but being finicky is essential - Tata
- My success will not depend on what a or b thinks of me. My success will be what I make of my work - Bhabha
- Thinking should become your capital asset, whatever ups and downs you may come across in life - Kalam
- It's the mental discipline that sets one apart. The ability to think differently and to generate energy in the right direction - Tendulker
- To be successful in life what you need is education - Munshi
November 25, 2008
Birds of Paradise
My favorite flower - Birds of Paradise.
Meaning: Freedom, Magnificence, Good perspective.
Most commonly found in an orangish yellow with shades of blue. Here, I sketched a lesser seen variation of red with shades of green.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
November 10, 2008
A Throw
This sketch depicts my fascination with geometrical shapes, particularly linear, and my the obsession with the color blue. In color psychology, blue signifies many things, among them are peace, tranquility, cold and depressive, and loyalty. This, too some extent, describes me well.
I called this sketch 'a throw' for two reasons: first, this is throw-away stuff, output of my solitude, therapy for my restlessness. Second, this could be a design for a throw in a contemporary home.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
November 5, 2008
On witnessing history
Yesterday, I witnessed the unfolding of a new era in American history. My heart elated in joy once the results were final.
Deep in my heart I had hoped for such a moment. As a non-US citizen, I am not eligible to vote but, as a permanent resident, the outcome does matter to me. I don't mind admitting that I was one of those non-believers who didn't think that this country was ready for a non-white president. I shared that sentiment among my close quarters. My opinion was based on how some of my quite sophisticated white friends would hide their biases under the guile of conservatism or by pointing to lack of experience of Obama. If this is the attitude of the Ivy-educated man, how the mass is going to react, I thought.
Einstein always maintained that imagination is more powerful than experience. I wholeheartedly subscribe to that theory. I am glad to see that imagination came out victorious over experience. Imagination to dream over experience of tradition! To paraphrase him again, insanity is when one tries the same thing and expects different results. Why would someone, who in his own admission voted with Bush 90% of the time over the past 8 years, be a better choice to lead us to hope and to a better future?
The country needs a leader who is cool, composed and collected, who comes across intelligent, articulate and visionary. I think Obama can bridge the gap inside and outside the US and provide the thought leadership that is badly missing. This is one guy who understands the Leadership Law of the Inner Circle, that a leader is only as good as the lieutenants he surrounds himself with. Obama has definitely surrounded himself with some very smart individuals.
History has now been written. So, many years from now, historians will sit down to analyze how did this happen. Yes, analysts will cite several factors - selection of Palin as VP candidate, financial crisis, frustration of people with condition of healthcare, so on and so forth. But who can ignore the ambition and determination of this young man, the meticulous planning and orchestration of a campaign that is nothing short of textbook?
Yesterday, the USA and the world saw the dawn of a new day. I hope this is just the beginning of another phase of the long march that started 40 years back, right here in Memphis, my adopted hometown (at least for now); another step closer towards natural justice and equality, towards universal acceptance of people by people for who they are despite the external appearance. Obama can be the icon of hope, example of human possibility, and the wings on which dreams of the next generation and generations to come, here and everywhere in the world, can take flight.
Coincidentally, last night, as history was unfolding right in front of my eyes, I was browsing through a book of quotes of Dr. King without whose ‘I have a dream’ Obama’s ‘Yes we can’ would not have been scripted. It is even more coincidental that, for a personal project, I have been researching Pete Seeger lately and, more specifically, We Shall Overcome, a song that has essentially become the anthem of the national civil rights movement. It was a magical feeling to hear the theme we shall overcome as Obama delivers his speech. Or am I also dreaming?
I have a list of heroes. People whose personal feat and contribution to the human society inspires me. Yesterday, I added one more person to that list. I came to graduate school in this country with two suitcases, 980 dollars in my pocket, a dream and a determination to fight out my way. I survived grad school, despite all hardships and obstacles, due to an indomitable can-do attitude. Unfortunately, somewhere on the way complacence kicked in. I started giving in to mediocrity; the fighter in me took a sabbatical. Before I realized, 10 years had gone by and (to paraphrase my favorite band Pink Floyd) I missed the starting gun. I had drifted away from my original dream; I had come to accept my lot. But after yesterday, Obama's election to the Oval office will serve to remind me that when the world turns all odds against me all I have to do is say "yes I can" and go at it. Thank you Mr. President-elect for re-instilling that belief back in me.
Less ...
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
Deep in my heart I had hoped for such a moment. As a non-US citizen, I am not eligible to vote but, as a permanent resident, the outcome does matter to me. I don't mind admitting that I was one of those non-believers who didn't think that this country was ready for a non-white president. I shared that sentiment among my close quarters. My opinion was based on how some of my quite sophisticated white friends would hide their biases under the guile of conservatism or by pointing to lack of experience of Obama. If this is the attitude of the Ivy-educated man, how the mass is going to react, I thought.
Einstein always maintained that imagination is more powerful than experience. I wholeheartedly subscribe to that theory. I am glad to see that imagination came out victorious over experience. Imagination to dream over experience of tradition! To paraphrase him again, insanity is when one tries the same thing and expects different results. Why would someone, who in his own admission voted with Bush 90% of the time over the past 8 years, be a better choice to lead us to hope and to a better future?
The country needs a leader who is cool, composed and collected, who comes across intelligent, articulate and visionary. I think Obama can bridge the gap inside and outside the US and provide the thought leadership that is badly missing. This is one guy who understands the Leadership Law of the Inner Circle, that a leader is only as good as the lieutenants he surrounds himself with. Obama has definitely surrounded himself with some very smart individuals.
History has now been written. So, many years from now, historians will sit down to analyze how did this happen. Yes, analysts will cite several factors - selection of Palin as VP candidate, financial crisis, frustration of people with condition of healthcare, so on and so forth. But who can ignore the ambition and determination of this young man, the meticulous planning and orchestration of a campaign that is nothing short of textbook?
Yesterday, the USA and the world saw the dawn of a new day. I hope this is just the beginning of another phase of the long march that started 40 years back, right here in Memphis, my adopted hometown (at least for now); another step closer towards natural justice and equality, towards universal acceptance of people by people for who they are despite the external appearance. Obama can be the icon of hope, example of human possibility, and the wings on which dreams of the next generation and generations to come, here and everywhere in the world, can take flight.
Coincidentally, last night, as history was unfolding right in front of my eyes, I was browsing through a book of quotes of Dr. King without whose ‘I have a dream’ Obama’s ‘Yes we can’ would not have been scripted. It is even more coincidental that, for a personal project, I have been researching Pete Seeger lately and, more specifically, We Shall Overcome, a song that has essentially become the anthem of the national civil rights movement. It was a magical feeling to hear the theme we shall overcome as Obama delivers his speech. Or am I also dreaming?
I have a list of heroes. People whose personal feat and contribution to the human society inspires me. Yesterday, I added one more person to that list. I came to graduate school in this country with two suitcases, 980 dollars in my pocket, a dream and a determination to fight out my way. I survived grad school, despite all hardships and obstacles, due to an indomitable can-do attitude. Unfortunately, somewhere on the way complacence kicked in. I started giving in to mediocrity; the fighter in me took a sabbatical. Before I realized, 10 years had gone by and (to paraphrase my favorite band Pink Floyd) I missed the starting gun. I had drifted away from my original dream; I had come to accept my lot. But after yesterday, Obama's election to the Oval office will serve to remind me that when the world turns all odds against me all I have to do is say "yes I can" and go at it. Thank you Mr. President-elect for re-instilling that belief back in me.
Less ...
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
October 28, 2008
On this Deepavali Night
Let the Festival of Light
remove all darkness from the soul –
each individual’s and collective mankind’s.
Let the Radiant illumine the mind
with power to dream, will to change
and resolve to do what’s right.
Let the light nourish the body,
to fight demons inside and out,
to stand up against all plight.
Let even the smallest diya bring
warmth of the thousand suns to a grieving soul
or that wretched shivering in the cold.
Let the array of lamps lit the way
to health and happiness,
to peace and prosperity.
Let on this very Deepavali night
remove all darkness from the soul –
each individual’s and collective mankind’s.
Let the Radiant illumine the mind
with power to dream, will to change
and resolve to do what’s right.
Let the light nourish the body,
to fight demons inside and out,
to stand up against all plight.
Let even the smallest diya bring
warmth of the thousand suns to a grieving soul
or that wretched shivering in the cold.
Let the array of lamps lit the way
to health and happiness,
to peace and prosperity.
Let on this very Deepavali night
and always,
be in the light, be that LIGHT –
be a ray of hope to those astray.
This is my prayer for you and me!
Note: In the spirit of full disclosure, this prayer is influenced by preaching of Swami Vivekananda.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
be in the light, be that LIGHT –
be a ray of hope to those astray.
This is my prayer for you and me!
Note: In the spirit of full disclosure, this prayer is influenced by preaching of Swami Vivekananda.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
October 27, 2008
Tuesdays with Morrie - Part I
Very recently, I read a comment on Arpit Shah's (Arpit was a summer intern in my department right after his graduation. Now he is a friend, colleague, and an aspiring young writer) on Facebook. His comment was related to death. NeedIess to say, the comment bothered me a bit. Later, when I got an opportunity to talk to him about this, I learned that his comments were his reaction to a book that he was reading. The book is titled Tuesdays with Morrie. I have borrowed the book from him. but before I read it, I wanted to reflect on my own thoughts on the topic. As I read through the pages, I will be adding commentary to this article.
People say that when someone loses a near one, time eventually heals the wound. But does time really heal? I think not. I'm not sure if the scar left by death ever heals. Time is very cruel - it robs us of our memory. In the same manner the winter morning mist obscures the beautiful view across a lake or the dark cloud blackens an otherwise perfectly blue sky.
Have you observed how dust accumulates on a book on the shelf left for long? Somehow I think time steals us of our most prized memories in a similar manner. The fading of the memories lessens the pain.
Or do we get so busy with the rigors of our daily lives that memories of the deceased slowly fade away from our memory? Whatever it is, I don't think that pain of separation caused by death can be eased. The memory just stays in the "backshelf" of one's mind only to be sparkled by triggering events. In Tagore's poem 'Hathath Dekha' (Bengali for Sudden Encounter) the central character of the poem, when asked by his former girfriend after a sudden meeting in a train compartment after decades if there was anything left from their past, so eloquently put it that all the stars of the night live in the deep of the daylight. I am eagerly waiting to read Morrie's lessons after dealing with a terminal illness. To be continued. . .
People say that when someone loses a near one, time eventually heals the wound. But does time really heal? I think not. I'm not sure if the scar left by death ever heals. Time is very cruel - it robs us of our memory. In the same manner the winter morning mist obscures the beautiful view across a lake or the dark cloud blackens an otherwise perfectly blue sky.
Have you observed how dust accumulates on a book on the shelf left for long? Somehow I think time steals us of our most prized memories in a similar manner. The fading of the memories lessens the pain.
Or do we get so busy with the rigors of our daily lives that memories of the deceased slowly fade away from our memory? Whatever it is, I don't think that pain of separation caused by death can be eased. The memory just stays in the "backshelf" of one's mind only to be sparkled by triggering events. In Tagore's poem 'Hathath Dekha' (Bengali for Sudden Encounter) the central character of the poem, when asked by his former girfriend after a sudden meeting in a train compartment after decades if there was anything left from their past, so eloquently put it that all the stars of the night live in the deep of the daylight. I am eagerly waiting to read Morrie's lessons after dealing with a terminal illness. To be continued. . .
October 16, 2008
Reflecting on Durga Puja 2008
This year's Durga Puja is behind us. It is the biggest celebration among the Bengali people. It has evolved from being a religious festival to a socio-cultural phenomenon - a time for joy, fun, and merriment. A time when gifts are exchanged, people get new clothes, travel (because schools and offices are closed) or make capital purchases for their homes with the bonus from employers.But Durga Puja to me has always brought in mixed emotions. I am always disturbed by the striking contrast of the affluence and extravaganza with which it is celebrated, particularly in and around the metropolitan Calcutta, now Kolkata [the name changed after I had left the country; I find it difficult to say or write Kolkata. I still prefer Calcutta, my birthplace, the city where I had spent my formative years, the city where I moved from childhood to adulthood] and the stark poverty. So much of pomp and grandeur and yet, right outside the glamour of the mandaps [these are temporary structures put up to house the idols of goddess Durga and her four children] is darkness - both real and symbolic. One has to be blind not to see this or be desensitized not to feel it.
Two days before this year's puja, the Nano project [India's effort to come up with the USD 2000 car] moved out of West Bengal. This could have been Bengal's pride. People associated with the project lost their livelihood; some lost all their savings/investment, and most importantly, hope. Mind it; this happened right before the puja - the day when most factory workers typically get their bonuses and do the last minute shopping for their eagerly waiting kids. That one piece of new cloth brings in so much joy. I cried at the plight of these people. I could empathize with these people. I know suffering, the pain of starvation, the indignity of going home empty handed, the misery of deep loss. I only wish Mamata [the political leader behind the failure. Her name is a misnomer. Mamata in Bengali means kindness] had some kindness.
My dada (the Bengali word for elder brother) sent me an email greetings for the Puja. He rightly characterized the changes in puja celebration these days. The smell of the "Shiuli" flowers (quintessential autumn flower was so common even in the city during this time of the year when we were growing up) is gone. Pizza and pasta have taken over Moghlai Khana (Bengali for royal dish from the Moghul period!?) that we used to savor during the puja days with our pocket money. Globalization and call centers have increased the divide between the rich and the poor. Competition among the local puja organizers is so intense these days that the organizers spend millions of dollars for a simple plaque, for bragging rights for the entire next year. Traditional mandap set-ups are replaced by novel themes representing current world events and trends. Innovation and creativity in material selection (e.g. rice, caps from Coke, etc.), lighting, and every aspect of the celebration. Yet, right outside the puja premise, there may be a poor kid in his tattered clothes sucking on a Popsicle stick thrown away by someone else. This also must be a theme - my dada sighed in his note. Not that this doesn't happen every day but it doesn't get so strikingly exposed. This is what so tormenting, heart wrenching about Durga Puja.
We celebrated Puja in Memphis in our own way - the "Twenty-Twenty" equivalent of Cricket. Life in the fast lane (or is it so? do we small-towner NRIs love to think) forced us to squeeze five days of puja into one and that too after the actual puja is over. Convenience of weekend rules! Idiosyncrasies (where the priest won't do the puja) and availability of rental space all adds to the planning challenge. Despite that, we had fun. And to allow time for the ladies to show their latest acquisitions (Saree and ornaments) there was a "break" between the daytime puja and the evening event. We even had an evening cultural program for the local Bongs to showcase their talent and to claim that they are still in touch with the Bengali culture, often at the cost of completely alienating the audience. It is high time for some of these long time performers to retire. [By the way, why can't we learn from Bengal's pride Sourav who declared his retirement from International Cricket on the day of the Ashtami (8th day of the puja)?]
Since, Durga puja is a time to spend with your family and friends, a deep void in our lives re-surfaced. Moments like these, times of celebrations like this revive the memory of gifts that are lost forever. One craves for that piece of one's heart that is carved out with no treatment known to mankind to heal.
Top right is my reflection in Bengali of how the puja break this year was spent. Click on the image to get a more legible version.
Less ...
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
September 23, 2008
Knock, knock in Playa del Carmen
Very recently, we visited the Mayan Riviera. Travelling with us were my friend Anjan, his wife Bitasta and their 3-year old daughter Adrika. She calls me jyaja which is derived from jyethu, meaning uncle in Bengali. This poem is about our interactions in the morning before we would head out of our hotel rooms. Here it goes.
The morning after the ruin visit -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
"Mayan ghost," replies a tiny voice,
"We are all Mayan ghosts
except jyaja - he's a doggy!"
We go up and down hwy 307
looking for Xcacel.
Green sea turtle, green sea turtle -
Where can we find you?
The very next morning -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Sea turtle.
Our Mayan ghost is now a sea turtle!
Next stop. Xcaret.
We sample the Mayan theme.
The next morning. Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Spider monkey.
The turtle turns into a monkey.
Every morning the same routine -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Mayan ghost to sea turtle
Sea turtle to spider monkey.
Innocence and imagination
of a little girl -
Part of my Mayan Riviera experience.
Footnote: the ruin referenced here is Chichen-itza. Xcacel (pronounced Ish-ka-cell) is a Sea Turtle Conservatory. Xcaret (pronounced Shcaret) is an ecological theme park.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
The morning after the ruin visit -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
"Mayan ghost," replies a tiny voice,
"We are all Mayan ghosts
except jyaja - he's a doggy!"
We go up and down hwy 307
looking for Xcacel.
Green sea turtle, green sea turtle -
Where can we find you?
The very next morning -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Sea turtle.
Our Mayan ghost is now a sea turtle!
Next stop. Xcaret.
We sample the Mayan theme.
The next morning. Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Spider monkey.
The turtle turns into a monkey.
Every morning the same routine -
Knock. Knock.
Who's there?
Mayan ghost to sea turtle
Sea turtle to spider monkey.
Innocence and imagination
of a little girl -
Part of my Mayan Riviera experience.
Footnote: the ruin referenced here is Chichen-itza. Xcacel (pronounced Ish-ka-cell) is a Sea Turtle Conservatory. Xcaret (pronounced Shcaret) is an ecological theme park.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
September 12, 2008
Intersection and Interval
Last evening, I attended the Levitt Shell Concert listening to Bill Evans, Grammy winning saxophonist. It was an incredible experience to listen to a Miles Davis alum in his Soulgrass concert. The name of the concert was befitting as his music interlaced with traditional bluegrass style is really soul searching. His bandmates were also fascinating performers creating an evening of liberating music from multiple genres - jazz, bluegrass and funk. He even did an improvization where his saxophone leads were matched by the violinist. Almost like what one will find in any India classical performance called Jugol Bandi where the lead instrumentalist and his/her accompanist go into an impromptu co-creation.
While physically there, my mind was travelling and I was reflecting upon my life. Intervals and intersections are my favorite time and place respectively because they represent enormous possibility. While there, I jotted the following lines on my Blackberry that I titled "Intersection and interval." Here it goes. . .
At a crossroad -
do you follow your head
or listen to your heart?
Down on the ground -
do you wait for a helping hand
or bounce back on your own?
Your destiny -
do you leave it to chances
or are you making a choice?
Are events in history shaping you
or are you going to shape history?
Where are you heading? Where? Where?
Is your life a destination or a journey?
When dreams are shattered
don't rescind -
dream even bigger,
reach out for the stars!
If promises are broken -
don't withdraw into your shell;
forgive and forget,
love even more with renewed vigor.
At a crossroad -
don't just obey your mind
follow your soul!
While physically there, my mind was travelling and I was reflecting upon my life. Intervals and intersections are my favorite time and place respectively because they represent enormous possibility. While there, I jotted the following lines on my Blackberry that I titled "Intersection and interval." Here it goes. . .
At a crossroad -
do you follow your head
or listen to your heart?
Down on the ground -
do you wait for a helping hand
or bounce back on your own?
Your destiny -
do you leave it to chances
or are you making a choice?
Are events in history shaping you
or are you going to shape history?
Where are you heading? Where? Where?
Is your life a destination or a journey?
When dreams are shattered
don't rescind -
dream even bigger,
reach out for the stars!
If promises are broken -
don't withdraw into your shell;
forgive and forget,
love even more with renewed vigor.
At a crossroad -
don't just obey your mind
follow your soul!
************************
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
August 9, 2008
The Triumph of Human Aspiration
The opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics was a spectacular statement by the Chinese people. I was awestruck by the planning and execution, and, most importantly, by the power of human creativity, imagination and by a country's insatiable drive to dominate the world. Everything was so exceptionally masterminded, so flawlessly executed. No detail was overlooked, nothing was left to chance.
The number 8 happens to be very prosperous in Chinese culture. It is interesting to note how meticulously everything was chosen around the number 8. The show started at 08:08 on 08-08-08.
Several of my friends later described this event as an example of immaculate execution, some cited this as a classic case of Chinese ability to mobilize human resource, but, in my humble opinion, this is a fairy tale of victory of human imagination, triumph of human aspiration. Mixing their ancient culture with modern technology, the Chinese people simultaneously showcased their rich heritage from the past and their desire to dominate the future.
The director of the show demonstrated an uncanny mastery in symbolism. Every theme was carefully chosen to depict certain aspect of the Chinese culture, to showcase its prowess and to make a bold statement about its future.
The “bird's nest" is a befitting architecture from that perspective.
Who could have imagined such a syncopated orchestration of so many drummers - drumming a 5000 year old instrument discovered only 3 years back? The pattern that was formed by the drummers was also visually pleasing. [On a lighter note, the formation could be an inspiration for the next chocolate square design - with caramel on top. Chocolate makers of the world - are you paying attention?]
The spirit of the games – harmony – was well represented throughout the evening. The formations - I later learned from a Chinese professor - represents harmony in Chinese characters. The 57 kids donned in traditional outfit represented as many ethnic groups in China. Depiction of the Ming dynasty – a period in Chinese history when China used to be very open - was used to exhibit openness. A scrolling giant LCD screen used as a canvas for a century old art form was a statement in modern innovation and engineering. Both the painting and the way it was created were mind-blowing - what a creativity, what an imagination! Similarly, a show in the "city of kites" couldn't be complete without a kite show - here the Chinese touch was the human kite. The fact that the Chinese invented the use of magnetic compass in maritime passage was well showcased when hundreds of performers created the shape of a boat.
Such symbolic messages were abundant throughout the celebration. Even though there were solo performers, each performance had a large support cast. The message from a collectivist culture was amply clear – individual success depends largely on group. The handover of the Olympics' flag to military personnel implicitly expressed the confidence and trust placed in the nation’s army and its military strength. The resounding statement feels like "nothing is going to happen under my watch." [The director of the show must have watched A Few Good Men! :-)] No wonder China is now a voting-member of the UN Security Council.
The parade of the nation was also unique. Rather than following the traditional alphabetical order in which participating nations come out, the order was based on the number of strokes it takes to represent a country in Chinese language. When the Chinese contingency came out, by having the 9-year old earthquake survivor next to NBA’s Ming, China sent out a strong message. A bright future lies ahead of the country if one of its 9 year old can demonstrate such personal leadership in the face of such adverse calamity.
Lastly, the erection of the Olympic cauldron (the commentator on NBC did mention that it wasn’t there even 30 minutes before the torch was going to be lit) proves modern China’s engineering prowess. And the way the final torch bearer approached the cauldron was so creative and original.
I find symbolism in the "One World One Dream" slogan as well as the “You and me” song. China wants to embrace the open market, wants to capitalize on the “One World” created by globalization.
Needless to say, I enjoyed every bit of the opening ceremony. This would be a hard act to follow for the future Olympic Game hosts.
Returning to my own backyard, I hope our leaders exhibit similar open-minded, imaginative forward thinking. I truly believe that such a great feat was achieved by not saying "we can't do it", "no one has done it before", etc. but by asking "how we can do it?" and then by working collectively towards a solution. That's the Chinese difference. That's the lesson I took away from the 2008 Beijing Olympics - victory will belong to those who dream, the world will belong to those who try to scale new heights.
Less ...
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
The number 8 happens to be very prosperous in Chinese culture. It is interesting to note how meticulously everything was chosen around the number 8. The show started at 08:08 on 08-08-08.
Several of my friends later described this event as an example of immaculate execution, some cited this as a classic case of Chinese ability to mobilize human resource, but, in my humble opinion, this is a fairy tale of victory of human imagination, triumph of human aspiration. Mixing their ancient culture with modern technology, the Chinese people simultaneously showcased their rich heritage from the past and their desire to dominate the future.
The director of the show demonstrated an uncanny mastery in symbolism. Every theme was carefully chosen to depict certain aspect of the Chinese culture, to showcase its prowess and to make a bold statement about its future.
The “bird's nest" is a befitting architecture from that perspective.
Who could have imagined such a syncopated orchestration of so many drummers - drumming a 5000 year old instrument discovered only 3 years back? The pattern that was formed by the drummers was also visually pleasing. [On a lighter note, the formation could be an inspiration for the next chocolate square design - with caramel on top. Chocolate makers of the world - are you paying attention?]
The spirit of the games – harmony – was well represented throughout the evening. The formations - I later learned from a Chinese professor - represents harmony in Chinese characters. The 57 kids donned in traditional outfit represented as many ethnic groups in China. Depiction of the Ming dynasty – a period in Chinese history when China used to be very open - was used to exhibit openness. A scrolling giant LCD screen used as a canvas for a century old art form was a statement in modern innovation and engineering. Both the painting and the way it was created were mind-blowing - what a creativity, what an imagination! Similarly, a show in the "city of kites" couldn't be complete without a kite show - here the Chinese touch was the human kite. The fact that the Chinese invented the use of magnetic compass in maritime passage was well showcased when hundreds of performers created the shape of a boat.
Such symbolic messages were abundant throughout the celebration. Even though there were solo performers, each performance had a large support cast. The message from a collectivist culture was amply clear – individual success depends largely on group. The handover of the Olympics' flag to military personnel implicitly expressed the confidence and trust placed in the nation’s army and its military strength. The resounding statement feels like "nothing is going to happen under my watch." [The director of the show must have watched A Few Good Men! :-)] No wonder China is now a voting-member of the UN Security Council.
The parade of the nation was also unique. Rather than following the traditional alphabetical order in which participating nations come out, the order was based on the number of strokes it takes to represent a country in Chinese language. When the Chinese contingency came out, by having the 9-year old earthquake survivor next to NBA’s Ming, China sent out a strong message. A bright future lies ahead of the country if one of its 9 year old can demonstrate such personal leadership in the face of such adverse calamity.
Lastly, the erection of the Olympic cauldron (the commentator on NBC did mention that it wasn’t there even 30 minutes before the torch was going to be lit) proves modern China’s engineering prowess. And the way the final torch bearer approached the cauldron was so creative and original.
I find symbolism in the "One World One Dream" slogan as well as the “You and me” song. China wants to embrace the open market, wants to capitalize on the “One World” created by globalization.
Needless to say, I enjoyed every bit of the opening ceremony. This would be a hard act to follow for the future Olympic Game hosts.
Returning to my own backyard, I hope our leaders exhibit similar open-minded, imaginative forward thinking. I truly believe that such a great feat was achieved by not saying "we can't do it", "no one has done it before", etc. but by asking "how we can do it?" and then by working collectively towards a solution. That's the Chinese difference. That's the lesson I took away from the 2008 Beijing Olympics - victory will belong to those who dream, the world will belong to those who try to scale new heights.
Less ...
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
July 18, 2008
The Power of Words
The other day, my friend JJ forwarded me a link for a short film titled "The Story of a Sign" and suggested that it is a must see. It is a Spanish language short film that won the first prize at the 4th Annual Short Film Online Competition at Cannes Film Festival 2008. And she was right.
Very moving indeed! I cried – not only because the story is touching and but also because I felt a certain kind of pain of incompleteness. A pain of not being able to live a purpose-driven life. A purpose exemplified by the way this guy in the movie changed the old man's afternoon. A purpose higher than my daytime job.
Words have a wonderful way of touching other people’s lives, of transforming others. When I was young, in our composition exams in India, one of the popular questions used to be: Expand upon the thought "A pen is mightier than sword." Truly, the way the director used the pen in the film, showed us a partial glimpse of the letters scribbed by the young man, brought home the meaning of this old phrase so much better. If I were to take the exam again, in a multimedia world like today's, I would be showing this movie to expand upon that thought. The transformation of the old man's afternoon - the over-pouring coins into his pan - is no less than a "tipping point" (to borrow from the title of Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference.") Same feeling, expressed differently, did it for the old man.
So many revolutions have been ignited by flaming writings. So many freedom fighters during India's struggle for independence had given their lives, moved by the hypnotic power of the two Sanskrit words "Vande Mataram" (translation: bow to thee mother.) Transformational!
Often I wondered if the gift of oratory separates those with success and significance from those drowning in mediocrity and obscurity, separates the leader from the followers. Don't know for sure but the director Alonso Alvarez Barreda made me think again. Hats off to this young filmmaker.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
Very moving indeed! I cried – not only because the story is touching and but also because I felt a certain kind of pain of incompleteness. A pain of not being able to live a purpose-driven life. A purpose exemplified by the way this guy in the movie changed the old man's afternoon. A purpose higher than my daytime job.
Words have a wonderful way of touching other people’s lives, of transforming others. When I was young, in our composition exams in India, one of the popular questions used to be: Expand upon the thought "A pen is mightier than sword." Truly, the way the director used the pen in the film, showed us a partial glimpse of the letters scribbed by the young man, brought home the meaning of this old phrase so much better. If I were to take the exam again, in a multimedia world like today's, I would be showing this movie to expand upon that thought. The transformation of the old man's afternoon - the over-pouring coins into his pan - is no less than a "tipping point" (to borrow from the title of Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference.") Same feeling, expressed differently, did it for the old man.
So many revolutions have been ignited by flaming writings. So many freedom fighters during India's struggle for independence had given their lives, moved by the hypnotic power of the two Sanskrit words "Vande Mataram" (translation: bow to thee mother.) Transformational!
Often I wondered if the gift of oratory separates those with success and significance from those drowning in mediocrity and obscurity, separates the leader from the followers. Don't know for sure but the director Alonso Alvarez Barreda made me think again. Hats off to this young filmmaker.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
July 15, 2008
The Eye of a Photographer
This poem is inspired by a series of photographs I saw in a catalog that best exemplifies what the eye of a photographer looks for, who a photographer essentially is. Photography is a passion of mine and I agreed with what the images had to say. This effort is a result of my appreciation of that body of work.Please click on the image for a larger view.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
June 15, 2008
To My Son on Father's Day
How I wish you were here.
When I wake up this morning I would rather -
prepare you breakfast than take flowers to your grave,
learn together the birds in our backyard
than hear their chirps at your final resting place,
answer your zillion innocent queries
than be tormented by the dead silence of the night.
I prayed to God, before you were born that, unlike me,
you can become whatever you chose to be.
Little did I know you wanted to be free!
I remember your tiny fingers wrapped around my index.
I wished I could hold your hands as you take your first steps.
I was to protect you, provide for you, till you become self-reliant.
But the odds were against us.
Now, you are my little guardian angel.
I wanted you –
to do things that I couldn't,
to go places,
to be pure, and perfect.
Above all, I wanted you to have fun –
play soccer in the rain
or go camping with friends.
In my mind's eyes,
I have seen you score your first goal.
I see your little arms going up in jubilation and
your eyes searching for us in the stand.
So many books I read at night
but, can I ever read you one and kiss you goodnight?
Many such dreams that I had woven have withered.
I am sad, and at times mad -
what is father's day without you?
But, I thank God for giving you –
my best gift ever -
for you gave me the joy of fatherhood.
My misfortune didn’t let me fulfill my role.
I know you are in a better place now
but, in the dark of the night, as I write this,
I can't suppress my timid desire -
I just wish you were here!
_______________________________________________
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
When I wake up this morning I would rather -
prepare you breakfast than take flowers to your grave,
learn together the birds in our backyard
than hear their chirps at your final resting place,
answer your zillion innocent queries
than be tormented by the dead silence of the night.
I prayed to God, before you were born that, unlike me,
you can become whatever you chose to be.
Little did I know you wanted to be free!
I remember your tiny fingers wrapped around my index.
I wished I could hold your hands as you take your first steps.
I was to protect you, provide for you, till you become self-reliant.
But the odds were against us.
Now, you are my little guardian angel.
I wanted you –
to do things that I couldn't,
to go places,
to be pure, and perfect.
Above all, I wanted you to have fun –
play soccer in the rain
or go camping with friends.
In my mind's eyes,
I have seen you score your first goal.
I see your little arms going up in jubilation and
your eyes searching for us in the stand.
So many books I read at night
but, can I ever read you one and kiss you goodnight?
Many such dreams that I had woven have withered.
I am sad, and at times mad -
what is father's day without you?
But, I thank God for giving you –
my best gift ever -
for you gave me the joy of fatherhood.
My misfortune didn’t let me fulfill my role.
I know you are in a better place now
but, in the dark of the night, as I write this,
I can't suppress my timid desire -
I just wish you were here!
_______________________________________________
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
April 14, 2008
February 16, 2008
Night on the Island
Please click on the image to the left to get a legible copy. [Note: I haven't yet figured out how to over come this one limitation of the site to post work in a foreign language.]
This is a translation of Pablo Neruda's poem Night on the Island from the collection The Captain's Verses. I translated it while relaxing at a local bookstore before Valentine's Day and read it to my wife on Valentine's Day. Later, while I was visiting my parents in India, my dad's friend, poet and professor Sushanta Basu changed few words to make it somewhat palatable.
Some learning happened while he was going through my writing with a professorial touch. He commented that translation is not an easy thing. Then he quoted a very famous Bengali poet Buddhadev Basu as saying that translation is like a French girl - if she is good looking then she isn't following the rules of normal social conduct, if she is, then most likely she isn't attractive enough. The same principle, according to him, applies to translations of poetic work. If the translator is trying to stay too close to the original, s/he may lose its poetic essence and the translated work becomes a prose. The key is to maintain balance.
Later that evening, my uncle Sona Kaku, who is a poet and member of a poetic society in south Calcutta, told me that I should concentrate on writing original than trying to translate. However, Pablo Neruda being one of my favorite poets, I decided to post the translation that I did to kill time even if it may have lost the poetic brilliance that the original Spanish verse may have portrayed.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
This is a translation of Pablo Neruda's poem Night on the Island from the collection The Captain's Verses. I translated it while relaxing at a local bookstore before Valentine's Day and read it to my wife on Valentine's Day. Later, while I was visiting my parents in India, my dad's friend, poet and professor Sushanta Basu changed few words to make it somewhat palatable.
Some learning happened while he was going through my writing with a professorial touch. He commented that translation is not an easy thing. Then he quoted a very famous Bengali poet Buddhadev Basu as saying that translation is like a French girl - if she is good looking then she isn't following the rules of normal social conduct, if she is, then most likely she isn't attractive enough. The same principle, according to him, applies to translations of poetic work. If the translator is trying to stay too close to the original, s/he may lose its poetic essence and the translated work becomes a prose. The key is to maintain balance.
Later that evening, my uncle Sona Kaku, who is a poet and member of a poetic society in south Calcutta, told me that I should concentrate on writing original than trying to translate. However, Pablo Neruda being one of my favorite poets, I decided to post the translation that I did to kill time even if it may have lost the poetic brilliance that the original Spanish verse may have portrayed.
© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar
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