Friday, May 30, 2014

Genome


We do not comprehend our lives as we live them, in terms of societal connectivity, the environment, not to mention our own domestic and interpersonal situations, let alone those arising from different cultures, different countries and different civilizations on our shrinking, wounded planet. We do not understand our deaths.

Yet the thirst for comprehension of life's origin, and the entire gamut of scientific discipline, works to find out its chemical, physical and perhaps mechanical functions. At the same time, we want to ensure that our discoveries are presented, and bring cultural revolution, in our own individualistic, didactic ways.

Those involved in the search, with great qualification or insatiable curiosity for understanding, can come out with theories and what would appear to be supportive evidence and proof, which gets altered or enhanced by some other so-called truths, at other places and by other seekers.

Hence the search of more than a millennium brought the knowledge of DNA. In the recent past this knowledge has led to the desire and ability to create DNA in the laboratory, even though such an empowerment has led to apprehensions, ethical and legal questions, outrage within religious communities, charges of blasphemy in tinkering with God's work and plan, and so on. 

And now it is the genome. And then, do not have doubt, something else beyond it, ad infinitum. The purpose is questionable because the goal is eternally shifting: no matter which point man reaches, he wants to seek another point, the cost notwithstanding. At worst, if not condemnable, perhaps in the long run, in terms of absolutes, the effort, although seemingly fascinating, is futile.

---------------------------------
Charu wrote:
Strands of DNA swirling in, perhaps, a red primordial soup, a bolt of lightening and resulting fire all but end in futility not unlike the last word of the write-up; unless of course, soup happens to be 'Cosmopolitan' with lemon zest garnish.

my reply:
One Cosmopolitan with lemon zest garnish, coming right up, for the lady.
--------------------------------
Bhashwati wrote:

Decoding Genome

The strands that bind
The genes that define
A marvel to unravel
A spectacle to behold…
The flaming dance of life
Encircling generations  
Bequeathing tricks and traits 
Of conscious life
Through unconscious transfers 

About the composition I don’t even want to know what you did to whom. It is enough that you caught in a frame the music of the spheres and the dance of life.

The colours for me embody all the elements bound in a dynamic dialogue.  It is a mesmerising spectacle. 


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Baby Doll



every wakeful moment
a curiosity and a discovery

Safety


How safe is life: essentially human, because it is the only form which is conscious of itself, that it is born, exists and expires.

And because of humanity's unending exponential evolution, how much more or less endangered have all other forms of life become?

In fact, they have more chance of survival than humans, because their genes have no other agenda than to adapt, to live on.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Mother



1910 – 26 August: Anjezë  (Agnes) Gonxhe Bojaxhiu was born inSkopje, now in the Republic of Macedonia.

1920 - She left home at age 18 to join the Sisters of Loreto as a missionary.

1929 - She arrived in India, and began her novitiate in Darjeeling.

1931 - She took her first religious vows as a nun. At that time she chose to be named after Thérèse de Lisieux, opting for the Spanish spelling Teresa.

1937 - She took her solemn vows, while serving as a teacher at the Loreto convent school in Entally, eastern Calcutta.

1946 -  She experienced what she later described as "the call within the call". "I was to leave the convent and help the poor while living among them. It was an order. To fail would have been to break the faith." 

1948 - She began her missionary work with the poor.

1950 - She received Vatican permission to start the diocesan congregation that would become the Missionaries of Charity.  Its mission was to care for, in her own words, "the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone."

1952 - She opened the first Home for the Dying in space made available by the city of Calcutta (Kolkata).

1979 - She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, "for work undertaken in the struggle to overcome poverty and distress, which also constitutes a threat to peace.”

1980 – She was awarded the Bharat Ratna.

1997 – She died. 

After Mother Teresa's death in 1997, the Holy See began the process of beatification. This process requires the documentation of a miracle performed from the intercession of Mother Teresa.

2002 - the Vatican recognised as a miracle the healing of a tumor in the abdomen of an Indian woman, Monica Besra, after the application of a locket containing Mother Teresa's picture. Besra said that a beam of light emanated from the picture, curing the cancerous tumor.

2003 – She was beatified, the first step towards sainthood. A second miracle is required for her to proceed to canonisation.
-----------------------
The above was gleaned from Wikipedia. It does not reflect my views on religion in general, Christianity of any persuasion, or the processes they pursue and impose, with belief or otherwise, on multitudes of interconnected rituals, the recognition of miracles, and the process of canonisation.

Living in India, and specifically having spent in Calcutta the years which formed my intellectual systems and the confines which would guide obstinately my existence, I was aware of her being there. What I want to convey is that there did arise in me admiration bordering on worship in humility, which included small symbolic acts by me of charity and succor. However, my admiration was not unmixed. Later, many doubts about the definition of good and evil, and what motivated either, arose as more and more questions took possession of my mind. Mostly I did not find objective and absolute answers. I live a life condemned by doubt.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Parting


gate 
humble this one
not to be confused with the hallowed
haughty Arc de Triomphe
the Gateway of India
or other ceremonial such

mostly unmanned
silent witness
to conjunctions partings
comings and goings
simply passing
or passing away

------------------------
Anonymous wrote:

There is a quiet acceptance of the wear and tear that existence puts one through. The colours ash brown blue grey are all so dignified in their resignation, no breast beating on decay and decline nor any sign of futile struggle. I thumb.
----------------------------
Charu wrote:
Timeworn, rusty and rustic yet obeying to converge or diverge as per request.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Triplets


tucked in

restful
after the bedtime story
happily ignorant
of print and electronic media
or a state of the art
world


--------------------------------
Charu wrote: "And unaware of forks and knives to give them nightmares! It is a great picture."

Anonymous wrote: The colour choice of Triplets is so appealing and the image of creatures snugly swaddled so reassuring in a time of harsh hostility.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Post Mortem



post death 
a sleight removing
the mask of life
demise
end of life

except lifeless complex atoms 
randomly creating or destroying 
other environmental lifeless matters
 
feelings cease 
knowledge anxiety fear hope desire 
disappointment hurt hunger rage 
laughter levity pleasure sensation
craving gratification

all but all cease
nothing but nothing
exists as non-existent

nice 
except that even the knowledge
 of its nicety 
relief succor
even craving for nicety
 also has ceased
because all feeling has ceased

because whatever remains 
dead and decayed 
and disintegrating 
ceases to feel and know

perchance life and then 

nothing into nothing

Friday, May 16, 2014

Palm Fissured


or more?
has it only been fissured
or damaged, devastated
or is it destroyed beyond
restoration

Monday, May 12, 2014

Back to the Womb

\
(1965)

MY JOURNEY
INTO TIME
BACKWARD THROUGH MY MIND
TOOK ME TO
FORESTS OF CLOUDS
WHICH BECAME DARK
AND RAINED
ON THE WEEDS THAT
INDOLENTLY SWAYED
IN THE LUXURIANT GREEN BREEZE

AND AS IT BECAME DUSK
I HEARD MY MOTHER
CALLING OUT FOR ME
FROM AFAR
BEFORE I COULD HURL
THE LAST PEBBLE IN THE POND
AND FRIGHTENING A FROG AWAY
UNKNOWINGLY MADE RIPPLES OF MUSIC
I DID NOT WAIT TO COMPREHEND

THE COMPLICATED MAZE
CLEARS INTO THE TRANSPARENT INNOCENCE OF
MY CHILDHOOD
AND AS I THINK
OF ALL THE WISDOM
OF DISILLUSIONS ACQUIRED
I RECOGNISE THE UNSULLIED PAST
OF LANGUID TIME
BEFORE I TRAVELLED INTO
THE FUTURE OF DEHUMANISED PRESENT

AND I CLOSE MY WEARY EYES
TO RUN BACK AGAIN INTO
THE ONE TIME OF MY DISSOLUTE DAYS
WHICH I CAN RELIVE WITHOUT REMORSE:

THROUGH THE DENSE TREES
AND MARSHY CLEARINGS
AND SHRILL CRIES OF EXCITEMENT
OF PLAYFUL MISCHIEF
AND ENDLESS CAPACITY
TO MARVEL AND WONDER
AT EVERY SMALL SEARCH
AND DISCOVERY

THEN I HEAR MYSELF
CALLING OUT FOR ME
IN HELPLESS WISH
IF NOT TO BE ABLE TO
RETRIEVE MY LOSS
TO RETAIN AT LEAST
THE DESIRE AND ABILITY
TO LIVE WHILE I LAST
WITH NOSTALGIA

Sunday, May 04, 2014

Stream of Consciousness


The title of this picture is a lie, even if half in jest and half metaphor.

The truth of the matter is that consciousness, especially human, is extremely volatile and turbulent, only accidentally and transiently at peace, restful, harmonious by proxy or exhaustion, and not by its own nature. The picture is too gentle, almost soft, almost musical, and has a flow which is insanely unaware of the storms ahead.

The title is a dream, fantasy and wishful thinking. Given the awareness of the life in which we are all entrenched, perhaps this unrealistic, jarring note becomes forgivable.

I have not forgotten, and must remind those who chance upon this picture, that as much as 90% of our conscious activity is motivated and activated by the limbic part of the cerebellum, or the small brain, and is therefore in the clutches of our subconscious. Very little that we humans do is from our conscious knowledge, but is guided or most frequently, misguided by our subconscious. My picture above may be one such escape.

-------------------------
Hemantha Kumar Pamarthy wrote: 

Saaree Raat Aahein Bharta
Pal Pal Yaadoon Mein Marta
Maane Na Meri Mann Mera..

Thode Thode Hosh Madhoshi Si Hai
Neend Behoshi Si Hai..
Jaane Kuchh Bhi Na Mann Mera..
Kabhi Mera Tha
Par Ab Mera Na Hai Yeh...... :-)

Courtesy: Aseem Ahmed Abbasee for the Hindi film 'Table No. 21''
-----------------------
Charu wrote:

If the picture is wrongly labeled as 'Stream of Consciousness', on purpose, even in jest or otherwise, and if the Unconsciousness is really this flowy, then I am willing to stream away in it.

My reply:

It’s not flowy, it is stormy. As I wrote in my post, “The truth of the matter is that consciousness, especially human, is extremely volatile and turbulent, only accidentally and transiently at peace, restful, harmonious by proxy or exhaustion, and not by its own nature. The picture is too gentle, almost soft, almost musical, and has a flow which is insanely unaware of the storms ahead.”

Do you want to float away in it? Be my guest.

Friday, May 02, 2014

River, Giver



I was 15 (1951), and was crossing the Hooghly River from Dakshineshwar to Belur Mutt, Calcutta. We were four or five classmates, and I was much pampered captain, monitor.

One of my friends had a newly-bought Arriflex double-lens reflex camera, and he didn't know how to use the levers for aperture, shutter speed, distance, and speed of the film (which was at that time denoted in DIN, as opposed to ASA, which took over in the '70s). I did not know what double-lens reflex meant, or viewfinder, or SLR.

My attention was mostly on the majhi, the owner of the boat, and his son. They were rowing us diagonally across the river, a distance of about a mile, for Rs. 4.

I was poor, my school education coming from scholarship and free books, and also love and respect from teachers and headmaster. I have often wondered, as I have grown up, if I really deserved so much that I received from them.

Coming back to the journey and the camera and the friend, he wanted me to inaugurate it by taking the first picture, and to tell him, not about the mechanics, but about how and with what in mind, or in my eyesight, I composed my pictures, especially since I had no camera of my own. I started explaining balances, sky, water, and took two or three pictures. This is one of them. 

The reason for my writing this introduction is less about the quality of the picture, the ability and objectivity to judge which I have lost; but mostly because of the fascination that engaged me during that journey, about the lives of the father and son. They had a little home on the boat itself, with a hanging hurricane lamp, a hookah, and some cooking pots and pans, but most importantly, there was contentment on their faces. I envied them then; I still envy them, not to mention how much I rue having lost that time of my life.


Woh kaaghaz ki kashti
Woh baarish ka paani


-----------------------
Bhashwati wrote:

Two sons and a mother.
Static and dynamic
Angles and curves, 
Wood and flesh. 
Force and flow
Toil and ease
Time and life
limbs and oars
Of bonds and bondage
a moment an eternity
pause, continuum
breathe cease
Sthitpragya
------------------------------------
Charu wrote:

This is a lovely picture apart from being nostalgia inducer. 

I look at the picture and see how the oily lithe dark bodies of rowers are captured. They glow. Father keeping an eye on the son and son watching father's back literally and perhaps figuratively. There is a sense on son's face that he is doing all okay by his father. It drips with care between them. 

Oh, Calcutta! (not the movie, I am sure)

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Sliver of Coal


worth its mass in gold
perhaps more utilitarian
for unceasing usage
and servitude to mankind
than the much secreted
seldom displayed
but held in reserve 
for an archaic system of barter
gold

incremental in value as oil
taking a million years in the making
but used as fast as it goes
so much of human life depends
on one or the other of its forms
mindlessly believing
in its commensurate renewal
carbon monoxide carbon dioxide
and the central part of entire organic chemistry
coal