Monks and a Starlet in the City of Angels

The sunlight was warm and the skies clear. I walked along the path of a well-landscaped garden built around a man-made lake, lead by latter-day monks, some dressed partly in orange and others in casual business clothes. We stopped at three different locations to meditate, in this lovely Santa Monica shangri-la. My favorite spot was the front of a docked white boat, through which one could see the tall palms across the lake. Direct light burst gently through the clear windows, and white room was aglow with spiritual energy and silence.

I won't reveal the identity of the monks (nor the name of their organization), for whom I developed a great deal of respect for with each passing minute, because I'm sure they would rather remain anonymous. They spent each moment with us, completely focused on us, never letting their attention wander. They explained the history and relevance of each building and monument on their premises, with intense devotion. We saw an ancient Dutch windmill; observed photographs at a museum which highlighted events from the life of their guru; sat in meditation halls for both adults and children; fed some swans, ducks, turtles and fish; and finally ogled at the beauty of the Pacific Ocean. At one point, we were served tea, delicious goat-cheese sandwiches, and biscuits as if we were long-awaited guests in a small English town.

Two evenings later I went out for dinner with my college friend, Marc, to a Japanese restaurant on the "Sunset Strip." From our host and waitresses to the female customers around, we were surrounded by beautiful women. One of them, apparently a starlet, wearing a silver-scaled tight dress, did everything to attract attention. Every time she got up from her table, all heads would veer in her direction. When her limousine drove up, she posed like a model or actress on a red carpet, much to the delight of every male around. A group of older men, caught her attention and tried to chat her up. I was quite fascinated by this aggressively extroverted and exhibitionist culture.

It's amazing that two such diametrically different cultures thrive so close to each other.

A Gentleman's Travels through the Americas

That's what Paul Theroux's The Old Patagonian Express should be re-titled. I was enticed to buy the book after hearing the famous travel writer speak at a book-reading in Bombay. I even got my copy autographed. However, I was as relieved to have finished the book as the author was to leave Argentina for Boston, at the end of his journey.

His journey is rather placid - just short trips on and off the train. To make matters worse, today we have been spoiled into thinking that all worthwhile travel experiences are extreme ones. For 75% of the book he drags the reader through what he sees as hopeless countries with hopeless people. He hates the poverty, the illiteracy, the weather and the crumbling infrastructure and governments. At times I fancied putting the book away. But then I remembered all the books that are lying half-read on my bookshelf and how piqued I feel when I see them staring at me like little Bombay street urchins, saying, " What did we do to deserve this fate?" So I trudged on.

My friend Shivjit had heard enough of my complaining one evening, and went straight to a Canadian couple sitting next to us at coffee shop for their opinion. One of them read a few pages quite carefully and said that it may not be the best book in the world, but Theroux was a good writer, and that the book was filled with subtle humor. I trusted her judgement and decided to trudge on with the book.

The author is frank that he prefers order over adventure and he writes, "It was not enough for me to know that I was in uninhabited altitudes; I needed to be reassured that I had reached a hospitable culture that was explainable and worth the trouble." He was comforted by the European feel of Argentina, after the the rugged landscapes of Bolivia and Peru. Ironically, during my own travels to Peru I was enthralled by the very same desolate moonlike landscapes. Of course my trip was far shorter and I traveled quite comfortably. So it's not right to compare the two experiences. But I loved the diversity of the continent, the different topographies, the history and culture. The travel through thick forests was a dream come true for me.

Theroux redeems himself a little with his decriptions of his meeting with the great Argentinian writer Borges. They connected immediately and each meeting was a delight to read about. But it's going to be some time before I think of picking up another book by him.

As Clear As Can Be

This past week, despite the searing heat and pollution, the skies have been very clear. One can see far out into into the sea from my apartment window. Bombay is surrounded by hills on the mainland and islands, often hidden by haze and smog. The morning light is wonderful. Anyone know anything about the island in the photo?

Manil Suri and the Mathematics Of Fiction

I went to hear Manil Suri, a mathematics professor at the University of Baltimore, and the author of The Age Of Shiva and The Death Of Vishnu, speak at the USIS auditorium earlier this week. The basic aim of his lecture was to reduce his audience's anxieties towards maths. At the outset, this phobia of math isn't too much of an Indian phenomenon. It's an issue the west may be facing more acutely. However, it was still an engaging talk.

He started off by explaining Fourier Analysis. On a basic level Fourier Analysis is the breaking down of complex wave patterns into simpler wave forms, called "basic functions". He likened this process to "deconstruction," a word that was in vogue a few decades ago amongst philosophers and critics. For example, the sound of an orchestra, can be broken down into the wave forms of the component instrument sounds. Colour can be broken down into light waves of red, green, and blue. He then took a leap into the world of folktales. He spoke about a Russian scholar who studied over 100 Russian folktales in the first quarter of the 2oth century, and broke them down into 30 "basic functions." There's a website where you can ask the computer to put some of the 31 parts together, and a completely new story is written by a software program. The beauty of basic functions is that they can then be re-assembled to make a new new form. Imagine applying this concept to Bollywood films, Suri joked. That would be a bit boring wouldn't it? He did admit that modern fiction couldn't be analyzed so easily.

Another interesting concept he spoke about was the process of counting. What is counting? It's merely the assignment of a series of number to a series of objects. When you count, you are bringing various completely different forms to the common platform of numbers.

He's on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBS_cNHvnBE. He's presenting a lecture called Taming Infinity. I still need to watch it myself...