Tomichan Matheikal's blog

What did life mean to the millions of people who awaited their death in Hitler’s concentration camps? Any day, not too distant, they could be gassed to death. Their bodies might end up in a corpse factory [ Kadaververwertungsanstalt] that converted human body fat into glycerine and soap. Becoming toilet soap cannot be the meaning of anyone’s life. What did life mean to Hitler himself and his accomplices who ran the camps? Murdering millions of people cannot render anyone’s life meaningful. Hitler saw himself as the saviour of Germany. Eliminating the Jews was part of his messianic mission. The mission was the meaning of life for Hitler. But what about his victims? Viktor Frankl was one of Hitler’s victims. His mother, wife and brother were murdered by the Nazis. Frankl survived the horrors and brutalities of the camps and wrote the celebrated book, Man’s Search for Meaning . Meaning is what makes life bearable even in a concentration camp, even in the face of death. Even suffe

Humility is not in my DNA. I was hopelessly vain until some benevolent people in Shillong decided to hammer my ego on the anvil of humiliation. The Mastermind [the name I gave in my memoir, Autumn Shadows , to the person who masterminded the whole strategy] made me a personification of shame. I became so ashamed of myself, my ego was so much pulverised, that I had to leave the place just out of the survival instinct that keeps organisms keep going even when they know they are worthless in the larger picture that really matters. [Matters to whom? That’s a question I’ll take up in subsequent blogs.] I left Shillong with a fragmented soul. Nearly two decades have passed after that flight and life has taught me a lot of lessons in those decades. Unfortunately humility has not been one of those lessons, it seems. Somebody in one of the many WhatsApp groups to which I belong more by necessity than choice was generous enough to tell me that in that group to which I never wanted to belo

I asked a group of students to submit the topics of their speeches for a programme that the school was organising. One of the students asked me if she could choose the topic ‘Don’t be a follower’. I looked at her in surprise and she was baffled. “What a coincidence!” I said. I was at that time reading the first chapter of the book titled Mastery by Robert Greene. The page I was reading was about the social pressures on every individual to conform, to be a follower. This social pressure is a counterforce to the vital force within each individual which urges him to nurture his uniqueness to fruition so that he will be the master that he was born to be. Greene’s thesis is worth paying attention to. Each one of us is preciously unique. There is no other individual like you; there never was and never will be. Your Life’s Task is to discover that uniqueness, nurture it and bring it to fruition. It’s as natural a process as a seed growing up into a plant and then producing flowers an

Archangel Michael In Christian mythology, Archangel Michael is usually portrayed with a sword. He is the Commander of God’s security forces. I was under the impression that the warfare in the Christian divine milieu was over long ago when God and Satan agreed to draw the Line of Control between Heaven and Hell and each arrogated to himself his territory. Myths are interesting particularly because they tell us how our forefathers understood good and evil. God is good and Satan is evil. Heaven is the abode of goodness and hell is the place where people like me will reach. One of the WhatsApp groups which I quit yesterday condemned me to hell because I question the evils perpetrated in the name of myths called god and satan. One member in that group invoked the archangel Michael to come with his sword and chop off my head. Not as bluntly as that. The honourable member posted a prayer to Michael to eliminate the enemies of the church. I am one of the enemies. The Catholic Churc

Mr S K Sharma with Sawan students at Premdaan Photo courtesy: Mr S K Sharma My evening walks in Delhi invariably took me by the gate of Premdaan, an institution run by Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity. Premdaan stood just a kilometre from Sawan Public School where I worked as a teacher for 14 years. Both the school and the missionary institution stood on the side of the only road that connected the metropolis of Delhi with the rural outskirts of Bhatti Mines. I met Krishnan during one of those walks. He was the gatekeeper of Premdaan. He looked a tough person caught in a fragile body: he was less than 5 feet in height and extremely attenuated. Many encounters and casual conversations during my regular evening walks created an unusual bond between Krishnan and me. “How did you reach here?” I asked him once in Malayalam, the language that both us spoke fluently. He grinned showing me his irregular teeth many of which were missing. “It’s a long story,” he said. He ha

I rely heavily on reviews before buying certain things especially books. I also make sure that the reviewer is credible enough. Popular newspapers and other publications usually provide reliable reviews. There are some bloggers too who can be counted on for balanced reviews. Reviewing anything is an art. Let me confine to books here. I have reviewed umpteen books a few of which were written by my friends and acquaintances. Let me confess that I am more objective and balanced when I review books written by people who have no personal connections with me. Friendship does tend to make me more lenient in my judgments. I try my best to be fair and balanced even in such cases; diplomacy helps. I give an overview of the book without letting out the essential secrets. If you’re reviewing a novel, you need to stop after arousing the enthusiasm of the potential reader. In the case of non-fiction, the review can go all out and summarise the book if need be. I look at the theme(s)

There are facts and there are opinions. Facts can be verified while opinions can be disputed. That water boils at 100 degrees Celsius under normal temperature and pressure is a fact. Water will boil at that particular temperature whether it is in Hindu India or Muslim Pakistan, Trump’s America or Kim’s Korea. No sane person will bother to question such facts. If I say that Narendra Modi is the best Prime Minister India has had so far, that’s just an opinion which cannot be verified the way water’s boiling point can be. There are still a lot of Indians who will argue that Nehru was the best Prime Minister India has had. Which other Prime Minister of India possessed his kind of knowledge and intellectual acumen? There are those who pitch for his daughter who after all bifurcated Pakistan into two nations and sent shivers down the spines of both with the nuclear explosions in Pokhran. You can bring in a lot of facts to defend your opinion. Facts are not enough to convince pe