in-between-sound-and-silence

In the last few days, I have managed to lay my hands on two books which did not fall within any larger scheme of readings I had planned for myself. The first one is an edited volume, The Short Story, which basically traces the form, content, and idea behind, well, short stories. And what better way to educate one by collating short stories of the masters themselves. So, yesterday, I hungrily devoured The Overcoat (Gogol), Hunger Artist (Kafka), and The Horse Dealer's Daughter (D.H.Lawrence).

While indulging in these works of art, my PhD doctorate student conscience, writhered from beneath informing me about the other tasks I needed to accomplish. Not in a mood for intense high theory, I started flipping through a book, Street Corner Society, which I picked up from a second hand bookstore. It looks and feels like a textbook of sorts. And that was my main apprehension about picking up the books. I do not want textbooks anymore.

However, as I allowed myself to engage with the text, first reluctantly, I found resonances of Gogol's Akakii Akakiievich and Kafka's Hunger artist in the brilliant rumination of a hesitant economist conducting ethnographic field work in a slum settlement.

The common man, the loneliness, the moments of exhilaration, the everyday as it is without any induced melodrama or romance is an essential part of the text. For me, through the text I could also excavate my initial forays into research, especially, in the slums of govindpuri. The author, William Whyte, constantly faces the dilemma of walking into people's house and intruding their privacy, questioning as to what gives me the right and the privilege to do so. I faced similar moments of doubts and dilemma in my entries.

Through these texts, however, I was able to find the common man in my works as well.

The common man in all its endurance and endearment continues the walk.

A few years back I wrote prose and poems and posted it to an online magazine. Most of them can be found here:

http://www.boloji.com/writers/triptachandola.htm

and let me add that most of them do not qualify any engagement. They were self-indulgent and half baked efforts only to evoke instant attention and emotion from those for whom these were directed. Needless to say, no emotions were evoked and no responses were heartfelt.

Though I am sort of embarrassed by these poems and prose, I do not intend to erase them. I would like to learn something from these.

The poems follow.
(Since the time of writing them I have called them, this, that, and the other over a period of time. So, for the moment, not attributing any name to any of the poem).

After the meeting with Anil at Radio Meow and his associates, a few weeks back I started a period of short but intense internship at the station. My intent was two folds: to understand the back end operations of a generic radio station and more importantly and specifically, to see Meow in action. I had been skeptical of the intent and execution of the station and Anil, gallantly, offered me to come, have a first hand experience, and then make my mind. In the process, I was also eager to contribute in any of the processes I felt confident about.

This, however, is not a post about my experiences at Radio Meow, which I will present and articulate at a different time.

After re-visiting the Open Directory, I managed to retrieve an article on the Politics of Open Source Licenses, which had its genesis in the writing of the open directory. I, first, presented this paper at a workshop held at Sarai on IPR.

Later it was published in a Finnish magazine, mediumi.
(The article can be read by following this link or just extending this post).

I recently met up with Mary and Gora. We sat around and till wee hours in the mornings discussed, thrashed, drank the ilugd days. These conversations rejuvenated me, immensely, and took me back to a time when I was completely engrossed in the free/open source movement and ideas. And not as a way of life as someone recently suggested. I believed (and still do, though the conviction to act upon it has been diluted with age and sustained interactions at ilugd) in the ethos of the movement with its insistence on openness and sharing not only as model for software development but larger political, social, and cultural systems.

The conversations made me nostalgic and I re-visited one of the texts, written five years back, I had started working on while at Sarai, for something called, The Open Directory. I worked passionately on it. It never got published or circulated in any of the public forums. While re-reading it, I could feel myself young and idealistic. The text is rhetorical in its resonance. I reckon something that comes with being young and idealistic. It is also repetitive. Also, the ideas are not very well framed. The intent of the text is more emotional than intellectual. However, I enjoyed reading it. In some ways, it has also encouraged me to participate more pro-actively in the free/open source initiatives at a local level. If I ever fail and falter again, I will just summon Mary and Gora for an alcohol-ladden night.

As of now, I could have edited ideas and concepts to make them seem far more mature and articulated than they are in this text. I, however, decided to retain it's, and through it my, innocent, inhibited, indulgence in ideas and ideas alone.