When the right one walks out of the door

Possibly it was a lesson every child had to learn, or possibly a lesson every teacher had to teach. In either case it came to this.
As we all stood up the teacher entered with a bunch of wooden sticks and put them on her desk. She went on to hand over a stick to each bench. None of my benchmates seemed to know what to do with it. I looked around, everyone seemed to be turning their sticks around, passing them back and forth. Evidently none of us did.
After she was done handing the sticks the teacher walked up to the front and with a satisfied smile on her face said,"Try to break the stick children."
Snaps were heard all around.
"Good", she said as she proceeded to bind the rest of the sticks into a bundle. "Now try to break this", said she as she passed it to the first bench.They couldn't. Then she smiled and passed it on the second bench. Of course they couldn't either. After everyone in the class had failed to break the bundle she asked,"What do you learn from this, children?"
We all looked at each other not sure what to say. The promptness with which she answered her own question however saved us from more queasy moments, "In unity lies strength!!! children, In Unity".
I forget his name, but he was a usually silent boy. He raised his hand and said,"How about "It is only the weak who seek strength in numbers", madam?"

Nepalese Art in Foreign Museums(II)- Philadelphia Museum of Art

Face of Bhairava

Made in Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

Malla Period (1200-1769), c. 16th century

Artist/maker unknown, Nepal, Kathmandu Valley, Newar culture

Mercury-gilded copper alloy repoussé with rock crystal, paint, foil, and glass
29 x 25 x 18 inches (73.7 x 63.5 x 45.7 cm)

1998-77-1

Purchased with the Stella Kramrisch Fund, 1998
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Philadelphia Museum of Art maintains a decent online inventory of their assets. To view Nepalese art housed at the Philadelphia Museum of Art go to:
http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/search.html
and search for "Nepal".

Nepalese Art in Foreign Museums(I)- Dallas Museum of Art

Pair of Guardian Lions
Nepal 1815
Bronze
Gift of David T. Owsley through the Alwin and Lucy Owsley Foundation
1997.139.1-2D
Dallas Museum of Art
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Manjushree,
Tibet or Nepal.
Gilt bronze and semiprecious stones
Bequest of Mrs. E.R. Brown,
1955.19
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Stele of Laxmi-Narayan
Nepal, 10th-11th Century
Gray Stone
Intended gift of David T Owsley
142.1990.3
Dallas Museum of Art
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Mask of Bhairawa
Nepal, Late 15th-16th Century
Parcel Gilt Copper and gemstones
Gift of David T. Owsley via the Alwin and Lucy Owsley Foundation
2000.322
Dallas Museum of Art
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Ghost???

Each person has their own idea of what the right thing is and each person thinks that their view is the point of equilibrium of all things. This idea of multiple middle paths so to speak is presented in the sculpture as the numerous balancing points it has. While each person's idea of the middle path is not entirely delusional, it definitely is far from the truth which is but one and which in that sculpture is represented by the point where all of the petals balance out. Further when a person who is comfortable in his own idea of the right thing sees another point further on in the sculpture and starts walking towards it, everything falls out of balance, the point where he had his nest starts to tip lower while the new point now seems harder to get at. The easier option for such a person will be to go back to his past and stay there while the one that takes him to another balancing point closer to the truth is a whole lot tougher.

http://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/60736.html?mulR=18085

Normals and Outliers

Endlessly we oscillate between ropes and gossamers, where lies the truth? In the highways paved for bumpkins or trails untrodden for pioneers? Ignorance floats plenty in the one who toes the spoor and likewise in the one who bushwhacks through cacti. But tell me you wouldn't walk a little deeper to get that shell, tell me you wouldn't jump through those roofs to get that kite, tell me you would trade the endless sea for the anchor. But why does one still long for home? Gravity? the weakest force with the last word. Water? the shapeless splash that levels all knolls. A friend told me once- round and round in circles we go, the truth lies in the center and knows. Elegant, poignant, but nothing more than another gossamer. Where is that center, in madness or triumph? In neither but in both is a genuine possibility? Love is all you need!! Will is all you need!!! Float around these kitsches like snowflakes on a December evening. May be the route to truth is not to straighten the frayed edges, not to walk along a line, not to idealize, not to rationalize, but simply to be, to stand content between contradictions, to be at the center of that circle. More gossamer. Enjoy your summer afternoons.

Fountain

The idea for this Warholian piece struck me when I was lying next to the fountain in Dallas Museum of Art.Things are as simple as the rise and fall of a fountain and just as enthralling.

Sixteen Queens Puzzle

The sixteen queens puzzle is a variation of the eight queens puzzle. Here is a brief description of what the eight queens puzzle is: You are to arrange eight queens in a chessboard such that none is able to capture another using a single queen's move. To try it out for yourself you might want to use the pawns as queens. For a detailed information on the puzzle see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eight_queens_puzzle

Now lets come back to the sixteen queens puzzle. What you need to do for this puzzle is pretty simple; you have to find two solutions of the eight queens puzzle in a single chess board. Bear in mind that it is not to say that none of the sixteen queens will be able to capture any other, that is impossible. Instead there are two sets of eight queens (white and black in the image) and any one queen of one set will not be able to capture another queen of the same set. Also bear in mind that if there is a queen of another set between two queens of the same set, the two queens are said to be able to capture each other, ie to say a different set is transparent to the set one is concerned with. Thus the only purpose of an addition set is to constrict the number of spaces availabe.

I did find one solution to this problem (see image) and am wondering if two is the maximum number of eight queens puzzle solution one can have in a single board? Further how many solutions are there for the sixteen queens puzzle?

Spare a Stick OR Spoil a Child

9^th graders, their young faces flushed with the nippy morning, stand up as Sharma Sir the Nepali teacher enters the classroom. It's the day for 'Sabdartha'(when the teacher asks for meanings of words from a chapter). As he points his finger to a student and begins his prodding, all eyes are downcast. Glances rise furtively as a student stumbles in her response.

"Okay Bhaju Ratna tell me the meaning of 'तिथि'".

Bhaju Ratna looks up at Sharma Sir, with a tinge of fear and guilt. He lowers his eyes and begins to stammer, "टिठी……टिठी…"

Sharma Sir admonishes him, "टिठी होइन तिथि".

"Huh!!!! टिठी…..huh……. टिठी".

"टिठी होइन तिथि भन्".

Bhaju is silent.

"भनेको सुन्दैनस्? तिथि!!! तिथि!!!!!..... तिथि भन्!!!"

Bhaju Ratna, by now scared our of his wits, gives it his best shot, the effort visible in his gaping mouth and startled eyes, "टि……ठी".

Sharma Sir, flushed furiously, walks up to the kid and grabs a lock of hair near his left temple and shouts, "तिथि!!!!! तिथि!!!!! तिथि!!!!!"

Bhaju Ratna lets out a cry of pain but still manages to reply, "टिठी!!!! टिठी!!!!!".

Sharma sir grabs the hair from both sides of his head and pulls them furiously as he threatens, "If you cannot pronounce तिथि tomorrow I'm going to uproot all your hair!". The only thing Bhaju Ratna is capable of is a silent scream.

As Sharma sir walks away, he adds indignantly, "I do not care if you hate me now. What matters to me is what you will think of me ten years from now".

 

I am sorry to say Mr. Sharma, but you have failed, and failed miserably. At least when I was in that classroom I used to think you had a point. But that was because I always did my lessons and had an impeccable standardized Nepali accent. But as I look back to that day now, I see an ignorant sadistic and self-righteous man.

I see now that a person's accent is just a cultural construct and to punish him for it is called cultural persecution. I see that you Mr. Sharma are just another agent of forced assimilation that has been going on in Nepal for centuries now. That you are the one who has marginalized ethnic groups for ages and you are the butt of the gun that has been humiliating the minority for centuries. But you don't realize it, do you?

I see now that you were the one who gave me the bogeyman that I am still trying to fight off. I see now that you were the reason why freedom was so hard for me to handle. I see now that you were the reason why it was hard for me to think of what I wanted when I did something. I see now that you were the reason why I developed an irrational hatred towards authority. I see now that you were reason why fear works better than reward for me. I see now that you were the reason why I had a tough time to figure out why one had to do something in life.

And I tell you now Mr. Sharma and I feel ashamed that I have to say it, that respecting cultures is more important than the marks you get in the SLC. I tell you now Mr. Sharma that creativity cannot flourish under fear. I tell you now Mr. Sharma that there is no bogeyman out there. I tell you now Mr. Sharma that desire for good is much powerful and lasting incentive than avoidance of harm. I tell you now Mr. Sharma that you are an anachronistic organism, a relic of the past.

I do not know what Bhaju Ratna thinks when he looks back at you now, but I, the student you never had anything but commendation for, think that you Mr. Sharma have no place in Nepal, if she is to ever move forward.

The Kiter Runner - Khaled Hosseini

I picked up this book to fill in the time between my computer's booting and rebooting after it had crashed. I was thinking it would be candy - books that you read as fast as you eat a candy and forget just as fast.

While there is no denying that this is a book of our times, infatuated with action and movements rather than the subtelities of life it would be gross injustice to lump it together with the Sheldons and Higgins. While the portrayal of Afghanistan through the various vagaries of time is commendable, what makes this book truly beautiful is the seamless weaving of an individual's dreams and desires with history.

The redemptive journey of the feeble Amir, introduces one to characters of different shades. When Amir shines his light on Rahim Khan, Soraya and others, it is palatable some time enlightening even. But when he does so on the three of the most black-and-white characters in the book- Hassan, Baba and Aseef, he is just setting of fireworks during the day. Does he ever truly understand Baba? When he says, "Less than two hours ago, Baba had volunteered to take a bullet for the honor of a woman he didn't even know. Now he'd almost choked a man to death, would have done it cheerfully if not for the pleas of the same woman" as though there actions are irreconcilable, while both the actions sprang from an adherence to truth. Amir didn't understand this part of Baba when they were fleeing Afghanistan. Did he understand him when they moved to the United States. While they warm up to each other in there, there is no evidence that he ever imbibes his dad's values. He betrayed Hassan out of fear of Aseef, but the fear was still there with him when he went to rescue Hassan's son from Aseef. Sure he did stand up to him this time, and that while being redemption enough for his actions, was not redemption enough for his soul. For he still feared Aseef and to fear something is to look up to it. A man who is sure of his path is not afraid, Baba wasn't neither was Aseef. 

Thus, Amir's is a journey from downright cowardice in both actions and soul to a path that is right and he thinks it is right, but still he doesn't feel its right. A pussy who finally learns to be brave, if there is such a thing as learning to be brave.

In spite of incomplete redemption in the main plot, this book is ultimately about hope. The hope that someday Amir will shed off his demons completely, the hope that the pomegrenate tree will again bear fruit and the hope that someday Sohrab's smiles will not be that rare.

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My favorite part :

"It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved wife's slain body in his arms.

...............................

...............................................

"Mashallah, Amir agha, Bravo!" He was beaming.

"You liked it?" I said, gettin my second taste- and how sweet it was - of a positive review.

"Some day, Inshallah, you will be a great writer" Hassan said.

.........................

"Well," he said, "if I may ask, why did the man kill his wife? In fact, why did he ever have to feel sad to shed tears? Couldn't he have just smelled onions?" "

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