Tomichan Matheikal's blog

An individual’s behaviour (“strategic conduct,” to be more precise, as phrased by Anthony Giddens, sociologist) is based largely on how s/he interprets his/her environment, or the reality around.  But what is reality? How real is my laptop?  The ancient Greek philosopher (to start with our ancestral wisdom) Plato would say that the idea of the laptop is more real and this particular laptop. Ideas are more real for Plato than particular concrete things. Modern science will tell me about the various components that make up my laptop which in turn are made up of atoms which consist of subatomic particles which are made up of more fundamental particles!  Which among all these is real? This post is a sort of continuation of my previous one titled Truth is Beauty .  I think we cannot speak of truth unless we tackle the issue of reality. People see reality differently.  Hence truth too varies according to people.  For most people the scientific world of atoms and suba

Manik Sarkar The poorest chief minister in India is Manik Sarkar of Tripura.  His total assets amount to a meagre Rs250,000, according to the accounts submitted by him to the election commission.  He has been the chief minister of Tripura 3 times.   When he filed his papers to the election commission in 2008, his total assets amounted to Rs13,920.  The amount rose to lakhs (!) this year not because he fished in the troubled waters of politics but because he inherited his mother’s house whose value is placed at Rs220,000.   It is a tin-roofed house, the usual ones you’ll find anywhere in the state. Mr Sarkar does not own a car.  His bank balance is Rs9720.  He had Rs1080 in his pocket when he was filing the papers to the election commission.  Mr Sarkar’s monthly salary as chief minister is Rs9200.  He donates the whole amount to the party since he is a genuine communist.  The party gives him a monthly allowance of Rs5000.  That’s communism.  I’m not an advocate of pov

“What is truth?” Pontius Pilate, the Roman procurator, asked Jesus.  The Bible [John 18:38] does not quote Jesus’ answer.  We don’t know whether Jesus chose to remain silent or Pilate had no patience to listen. Nineteen centuries later, the Russian novelist Mikhail Bulgakov extracted an answer from Jesus.  “The truth is,” tells Jesus to Pilate, “first of all, that your head aches, and aches so badly that you’re having faint-hearted thoughts of death.  You’re not only unable to speak to me, but it is even hard for you to look at me.  And I am now your unwilling torturer, which upsets me.  You can’t even think about anything and only dream that your dog should come, apparently the one being you are attached to.  But your suffering will soon be over, your headache will go away.” [ The Master and Margarita , Penguin Classics, 2007, p.24] Bulgakov’s Jesus goes on to advise Pilate that he would do well to go for a stroll, maybe in the gardens on the Mount of Olives.  “The trou

I love my school. Though it is changing colours. The green is changing.  Into cream. And I know it will change soon from cream to some other colour the colour of the Hegemon The process is under way The gate looks like a prison BLACK Are we keeping students out with all that black? I wonder.

Courtesy: The Hindu My wife and I are celebrating our 17 th Wedding Anniversary today with sambar.  Sambar is a good dish when Chicken Manchurian is outlawed by the institution in which we are working.  We are law-abiders.  I liked Rahul Gandhi’s speech at the Congress Chintan shibir or whatever it is called.  Poor fellow, I thought.  He has a vision.  He wants to take the power from the wicked old people who have amassed enough and hand it over to the youth who are struggling to make both ends meet.  I wanted to thank my wife for tolerating me for 17 years.  She would have enjoyed a chicken dish.  I donned the senile turban of worn out traditions and said, “My love, thank you for bearing with me for 17 years.    Please bear with our institution for a few more years.  I’ll feed you karimeen (a fish that is likely to become extinct) to your heart’s content …” Rahul Gandhi came in between.  With his tears.  His past.  I felt sad.  So much feeling, so many emotions.

Courtesy: The Hindu The literary world is celebrating the 60 th Anniversary of the first performance of Samuel Beckett’s short play, Waiting for Godot .  It was first staged on 5 Jan 1953 in Paris.  Though it has no plot in the conventional sense, it went on to create history in literature.  It established a new convention in drama called the Theatre of the Absurd .  True, dramatists like Ionesco and Arthur Adamov had already written plays in that convention in 1950.  But Beckett catapulted the genre into limelight. Estragon and Vladimir are the two major characters in the play.  They are beggarly creatures waiting in a desolate street for someone called Godot.  But they are not sure whether they really have this appointment, nor whether they are in the right place.  They don’t know why they are waiting for Godot.  In fact, they are not even sure of their own names.  While waiting, they indulge in seemingly meaningless conversation .  They talk about the two thieves

Teacher is a parent away from the parents.  Today’s Hindu editorial demands better teacher training institutions.  The editorial thinks that lack of qualification has led to deterioration in teaching.  I don’t agree. The plain truth is that lack of remuneration has led to the deterioration. Quality flocks to where the money is.  If money is the ultimate value in society.  We are not living in the ancient days of the Gurukala when gurudom was the noblest position in the society.  Guru was god.  Guru possessed all the knowledge and hence the power. Today knowledge is not power.  Money is power today.  Does India want good teachers?  Pay them – that’s the answer.  Otherwise, change the system based on economy. At any rate, who is a good teacher? Let’s forget the economy and ask that question. A good teacher is one who has a passion for learning.  One who has a passion for learning will keep learning his subject and that passion will automatica