My Kind of Nationalism

…the feeling of joy when, as students, we received news of the defeat of Indira Gandhi after the dark days of the Emergency; the sadness that enveloped us when we heard of the demolition of the Babri Masjid; the exhilaration we felt when M. S. Dhoni hit the winning six to seal India’s victory in the World Cup; the great sense of satisfaction I felt when I read and published Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy or P. Sainath’s wrenching stories about India’s poorest districts; the awe I felt when I first glimpsed the most beautiful lake in the world, the Pangong Tso, in Ladakh. Underpinning all this was, of course, the decades of learning and doing, the friends, the family, the shared history and heritage. As with the good stuff so with the bad. The anger I felt over all the things that bothered me was keener when they had to do with India than any other place on earth. No other country could provide that feeling of belonging. That was my nationalism; it was the sense that I was an integral part of something much larger than myself which no one could take away from me, not now or ever. It was a concept, it was a tangible reality, and in its most abstract form it included every Indian, known and unknown, in the best possible way.

David Davidar, On Nationalism

Our Extended Minds

Machines are great at brute calculations. Humans are good at creativity and intuition. The future should not be looked at as a battle in which humans are pitted against machine. It is more likely to be a fusion band with electric Guitars, Tabla and Sitars.