The Eternal Optimist!

With the desperation of an alcoholic searching for a drop of whisky, I searched my peanut sized brain for a drop of information. The instrument of terror they call ‘question paper lay before me. It well deserved its name. It put my very existence in question! The questions posed on international relations started pushing me to the precipice of frustration. Like a pirate looking for the key to his secret treasure, I made some futile attempts at searching that chit I had hidden in my pocket only to find that it was stolen by the guy behind me. One suspicious look from the supervisor foiled my hopes of getting any external help. To regain my composure, I then did that deep breathing exercise Baba Ramdev shows on TV and decided to confront the paper with whatever miniscule knowledge I had. Compare and contrast the Realist and Idealist traditions in the study of international relations. I answered as follows Realism is a peculiar view of the world defined by the assumption that the interna

I had always thought that studying the Indian defense policy would be great but the reference books brought out the picture of a defense policy in shambles. If we try to point out that the whatever the policy is, is dismal, there has to be some policy to start with. For the first 15 years after independence India had no tactical activity at all and as a result, no defense policy outline. India’s first Prime Minister Mr. Jawaharlal Neharu had a weird logic of his own. Pakistan according to him was a manageable threat and as of China, China and India were both age old civilizations with friendship dating back centuries! He saw no reason for China to attack India. It might be due to the influence of Buddhism or even the Bhakti movement and the likes of it that there was a considerable lack of strategic thought in the Indian culture. The art of warfare was never given the attention and the dignity it truly deserves. The Neharu regime kept up this tradition in its wishful neglect of the mil

“So how many meters of saffron cloth should I order?” “What? You’re going into Chinmay mission? Did someone ditch you? Are you heart broken? ...” These were the kind of reactions I got from my family and friends when I decided to join a camp organized by Chinmaya Mission at Zambavli in South Goa. People looked at me with sympathy as if I was going to die, go away forever. What was the camp about? I did not really know. Why was I going there? Well, the company of ascetics would certainly be bearable than my mom’s chiding over my addiction to TV and the internet! Eat what they offer, hear out what they have to say and sleep as much as possible. Some minor misunderstanding with my parents had disturbed me a bit and I just wanted to be at peace. The last post I wrote is what I told at the selection interview for the camp. I had no idea that my guesses will come absolutely true! Gautam Buddha once said, “What we are now is the result of what we have thought. What we will become w

Summer has come yet again and as always has brought with it, the memories of my childhood. I remember the summer vacations I spent with my cousin Sushrut and grandmother at her place in the village. Those were the best days of my life. Grandmother had a garden complete with mango and cashew trees and our servant Vassant would pick lots of cashew apples for us. There was a huge porch where we would play wrestling, cricket and football. We quarreled a lot over who gets to play with the pet dog. Grandmother would then take us to work with her in the garden. When she asked us which plants we would like to plant, I planted cotton for that would give her cotton for her ‘lugdem’ and Sushrut chose chilly for grandmother grew her cooking chilly in her backyard. She loved trees and she loved children. She never lost her temper with children Our morning would begin with sound grandmother’s prayers; a breakfast of kanji and a drink of the traditional Goan Ambil after this, we wrestled and raced i