Life, Dreams and Reality -- Sohel's Blog

Naive? – A Poem By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) November 9, 2009 Hear me out Oh beauty and truth! May I stand as cool Or utterly uncouth Hear me out Oh deceived! Oh dishevelled brute! Your bullets and bombs Blast bones, cut veins And arteries Open like flowing river Of blood Splattered on the wall Of concrete or straws Where trail of hands Smear the last thread Of yearn Hear me out Oh fantastic! Oh clever prick! Staged killings Even shed real blood Snuff out life of real Someone’s brother, husband Son and daughter Rest in the coffin, in open graves Or strapped in hospital bed In the name of piety Or is it flagging false Of dying dread? God, Allah, Adonai, Bhagwan, Jesus Christ and eternal Buddha Hear me out! Oh the all mighty! Lord of the universe The creator of animals and serpents In abundance, in treachery Bring down your wrath Bring down Monster pollute Stop staging The very real death Hear me out Oh naive idiot! Begging you Don’t shoot!...

For a relatively novice player like me, the following chess moves looked really wonderful. Look at the board setting above. 1.....d5 The above moves by black piece was done so that black bishop in f8 has clear access to a3 in later move that shows an example of thinking a few moves ahead. The above seemingly careless move by black entices white to take the un-protected pawn in d5 by its bishop in c4. 2. Bc4xd5 Now look at the next move by black. 2......Qf6xc3 3. bxc3 3.  ......Ba3 and check mate! In the above, white King does not have any move because it cannot move in c2, b1 or b2 as these were all covered by black bishops, and nor there any other white pieces that can protect the king. I find these few steps shows an excellent example of planning a few move ahead in chess. The above technique was first applied by Samuel Standidge Boden in 1853 in a game against Schulder, though there was a variation of it played in Horwitzh-Popert game in 1844. Wiki h...

Another song by Buffy Sainte-Marie.

A song written many years ago but rings true to these days. 

This a heart breaking story of a boy who believed that he could do anything. Link: http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/10/04/greene.wyatt.sunflower/index.html

"...we are part of a superorganism, a hivelike network that shapes our decisions. “A smoker may have as much control over quitting as a bird has to stop a flock from flying in a particular direction...." Here is one more excerpt: "How does network contagion work?.....Partly, it’s a kind of peer pressure, or norming, effect, in which certain behaviors, or the social acceptance of certain behaviors, get transmitted across a network of acquaintances."  And there is explanation using evolution, "During the early stages of human evolution, selective advantage was probably conferred on those individuals who lived in social networks and could share information about food or predators. The primatologist Robin Dunbar has argued that the human brain evolved to its present size to keep track of a network of 150 people..........As among primates, those humans who are best able to manipulate social networks to their advantage thrive, and that ability may be genetically...

No One By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) September 27, 2009 He built the largest building Pyramid of concrete and granite Middle of envious kryptonite No limit and no holding She traveled the world in eighty days And nights like Jules Verne’s story Getting love, endless glory Her passion weathers rebuke, dismays The group of four astronauts Gone and returned from landing moon Walking the vast empty space swoon Conspicuously bail outs Lifted their souls from purgatory Of economic depression Right into wilful oppression Hell fire in Friedmanite gory No one was spared from judgement Of threshing laughter and jeer Economics voodoo’s clear Acceptance, sheer fraudulent No one spared! No one dared To croak words Of sanguine flare Market goes up Market goes down The gloomiest clown Drowned in speculative burp

This article published in the New Scientist this week is engaging. I have not read any of the writings by Kim Stanley Robinson before. The Guardian writes that "Kim Stanley Robinson, one of the greatest science fiction authors writing today", therefore giving the writer's name a respectable meaning to me. Robinson attached the Booker Prize juries for not selecting any science fiction novels, and especially this year, when five short listed novels are all historical fiction. Here is a snippet of Robinson's argument from this article, "This is important, because you need the literature of your time. You can't get the meaning of our life in 2009 from historical fiction, nor from science alone. Novels serve us, and are treasured, because we want meaning, and fiction is where meaning is created. Scientifically minded people could perhaps conceptualise novels as case studies or thought experiments, both finer grained and wider ranging in their approach to meaning...

Reflection on Harmonium – a Prose Poem By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) September 12, 2009 Once it used to be the lifeblood of a musical lore. Once it used to lighten up the room with impeccable tune playing the auditory dance with a classical voice of a singer. Pumping the below in one hand, and the other to play the plastic covered black and white keys, harmonium player raced the musical field like a man in a battle. Striking the keys with force, pulling and pushing the below with vigour, matching the tabla player’s fierce tempo in bayan while leading the singer’s vocal to crescendo perfecto. Now as it lies abandoned, replaced by glittery synthesizers and digital gizmo, harmonium’s last breath extends: not giving up! Not giving up! Unlike its brethren accordion, you don’t have to strap it on your chest. Unlike the cousin violin, you don’t have to place it on your shoulder. No bow is needed. No feet pump is required. Harmonium, the maestro, sits in a forgotten corner of locked up clos...

Classroom By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) September 12, 2009 A rainy and cold morning Of waning summer. Boys and girls Wearing the blue sky uniforms Reading the poetry of Tagore. The classroom looks serene. In the blackboard Imprint of white chalks Measuring the rhymes and similes Dissected stanza’s rustic glamour. The teacher with neatly parted receding hair And large spectacle hanging from nose Is pacing from one corner to another Reciting the pleasing poem in soothing voice. The boys and girls are following the teacher Each word, each pause and tribulation Bouncing off the rhythmic lyric Shouting and murmuring the opening words: “It’s the morning! Open the Door!” (Bhor Holo! Dor Kholo!) A rainy and cold morning Of waning summer. Boys and girls Wearing the blue sky uniforms Reading the poetry of Tagore. Dedicated to the Bangla and English literature teachers of University Laboratory School at Dhaka. Inspired by poem Memory...

Slippery, Silvery Fish By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) September 11, 2009 I had no sense of dying I had no sense of the God divine Or the screechy scream of a slaughtered Negated swine Water was filling up my lungs Was I wheezing? Coughing? Can one cough while drowning? Silvery fish were swimming by, But the river, down there Cold and shady Impish bungs A boy of year two Even death seemed an escapade My flailing fingers grasping thru Water charade The swarming fish Slippery as they were Sinking as I was In the depth of that murky swish Of waves looked jovial While water filling up my lungs Twirled tongue, not trivial I looked up Splintered rays from heaven Slicing the shadow of a dingy boat No stethoscope, no white coat Someone grabbed my shoulder The right one, Trembled, deaden And pulled me up There I was On the boat In cradle of patriarch Beside sobbing matriarch Coughing and wheezing All the rive...

The Mosquito Coast By Paul Theroux – a Book Review By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) July 25, 2009 How paranoia can grip and strangle the lives of a family, where imposed fear, albeit hyperbolic, but made real sounding with constant uttering, are deftly told by the author Paul Theroux in this story of adventure, inventions, pain and scavengers. Tones are dramatic in the Mosquito Coast, especially, the grim episodes surrounding the demise of ice maker, are unforgettable. When facing the invasion by the “city boys” with guns, the “fadder”, Allie Fox, the chattering and towering central character of this marvellous book, tries to protect his sanctuary built in jungle of Honduras. Here is an excerpt: “See, around here, if there’s no rain, there’s nothing to eat. Ask anyone. We’re down to our last provisions. The ants are all over the place. Our river’s turned into a creek. The next time you come, things will be different.” “Where are your Zambus?” Father wrinkled his nose. “Probably...

Toast By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) July 5, 2009-07-05 Here is a toast, burnt and toasted Crumbled edges Look like granular hedges Here is a toast, charred and boasted Silence brings half empty glass Meandering hobo’s pointless return To crumbled edges Look like granular hedges Here is a toast, charred and boasted Burnt and toasted Morning cacophony, glaring alarm clock Bring back half filled glass Mineral of fluid Rancid exodus From flocking crass In the greenest of the greenest grass Heaps of dying beetles In morbid warfare With robust ants and bugs of fiddles Here is a toast, burnt and toasted Crumbled edges Look like secular pledges Here is a toast, charred and boasted Before galloping molars Disintegrate granules of toast Into mashed and muddy coast Here is a toast No more No more

Rest in Peace By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) June 25, 2009 Neda, rest in peace. Michael Jackson, rest in peace. Farah Fawcett, rest in peace. Ali Akbar Khan, rest in peace. Ed Mcmahon, rest in peace. Rest in peace In tranquil unknown of hollow “seventh” sky Or heaven Where bullets or bombs do not strike the innocents Moon like crescents And sun of oblivion Dangle in wrangling flare In other dimensional singularity Deaths do us apart From world of nostalgia And horror Too specific Too corroding To sing or muse For brick by brick laid out And choreographed abuse From hellish junta And diffused freedom Neatly branded As grail holy Holy moly! “Beat It” like it is the end “Beat It” like “Time to Pretend” Rest in Peace In wholesome, glorious abyss

Rock By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) June 21, 2009 As if the earth weren’t round The ocean weren’t blue As if the sky has changed Into pale greyish hue Tumbling once Tumbling twice Tumbling so many times Like scurried mice Walking into thunder Splattered drops of rain Deafening blast of silence Brings in zodiac chain As if the Mayan Calendar ends In prophecy foretold As if doomsayers’ 2012 doom Secrecy too bold Ticking clock Freedom knock Sea of protests in Persia Guns and bullets, Useless For raging rock

What makes Obama different is his ability to speak truth, acknowledging history, but the urgency to moving forward: "All of us share this world for but a brief moment in time. The question is whether we spend that time focused on what pushes us apart, or whether we commit ourselves to an effort – a sustained effort – to find common ground, to focus on the future we seek for our children, and to respect the dignity of all human beings.. It is easier to start wars than to end them. It is easier to blame others than to look inward. The Holy Koran tells us, "O mankind! We have created you male and a female; and we have made you into nations and tribes so that you may know one another." The Talmud tells us: "The whole of the Torah is for the purpose of promoting peace." The Holy Bible tells us, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." The people of the world can live together in peace. We know that is God's vision. Now, that...

Here are a few excerpts from an Interview with Steve A. Balmer (CEO of Microsoft) published on New York Times: "....if you really want to accomplish anything, you have to be committed, motivated, tenacious and smart about what you do. I’ve come to believe that to be a great leader, you have to combine thought leadership, business leadership and great people management. I think most people tend to focus more on one of those three. I used to think it was all about thought leadership. Some people think it’s all about your ability to manage people. But the truth is, great leaders have to have a mix of those things. if you really want to get the best out of people, you have to really hear them and they have to feel like they’ve been really heard. Finding the right balance between optimism and realism. I’m an optimist by nature, and I start from the belief that you can always succeed if you have the right amount of focus combined with the right amount of hard work. So I can get frustrat...

Can prose depicts the depth of pain better than poetry? There may be debate to be settled, but the fact is poetry touches the heart, brings in humane perspective in cadence and rhymes, even a translated poem can stir a rigid soul. A few lines of poem written by an Afghan poet unravels the continuous blood and death saga in the land where wars and violence seem to have no end in sight. I'll ask you in the presence of God, That in order to go to heaven Why did you orphan my children? Why did you widow a sick woman? Why did you kill the son of an old lady? Why did you kill the only brother of a weak girl? Ahmad Fawad Lamay Here is another example from Pasto poet Zarlasht Hafeez describing "burnt hearts", "tears" and "sadness": "The sorrow and grief, these black evenings, Eyes full of tears and times full of sadness, These burnt hearts, the k...

A new administration is in place, replacing the old tactics of fear with reasons for hope and peace. How truthful ans sincere these gestures are from Obama and his government, only future events and responses will reveal. James Wood is a gifted writer whose book reviews and critiques are widely embraced as contemporary gems in the midst of tabloid referenced information overloads. Here are a few of his observations, answering to readers' questions, delineating the remarkable similarities between George Orwell's 1984 and immediate past Bush groups of brazen hawks. "Do you think there is any similarity between the government’s use of language in “1984” and the use of language by George W. Bush and his Administration? Dennis Cohen Rereading “1984” and the essay “Politics and the English Language,” I was struck by the new relevance of Orwell’s analysis. Think about how the kind of political euphemism that repelled Orwell has become rampant in the last few years—“collateral d...

The world cannot have enough of Susan Boyle, it seems. Network interviews with top most journalists, cover face in magazines and newspapers, these all came like thunderstorm for this seemingly unassuming woman. Tom Bergeron ponders the sad mechanics of these sudden adulation and very possible abandonment in a short while when another epic drama, or trauma grip the world attentions from pure entertainment: "Ms. Boyle’s experience seems to suggest that people are willing to overcome their prejudices and see the world anew. But those same people can turn back into snarky snobs just as easily.....The truth is, more often than not we look only for what we expect to see...........The real problem is that too often we don’t have the courage to sustain wonder". Article Link: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/25/opinion/25bergeron.html