Nondescript filmmaker

When I got married, I had a tough time calling my father-in-law dad. My father had left an iconic impression in my head. He may not have been the perfect man but a hero nevertheless. His demeanor, his simplicity, his calmness, his soft-spoken nature, his reluctance to be heavy-handed with his children, the warmth and comfort in his embrace, his consistent truthfulness were precious for me. At 59, he died too young for me to seek critical advice in my life. It left a deep hole in my being. So when faced with the prospect of calling my father-in-law 'dad', I couldn't do it. I couldn't see him in my dad's space. And, he didn't like the idea of me calling him uncle. A few times he asked me why I wouldn't call him dad. I tried to explain what my dad meant to me and how difficult it was for me to call him with the same name. It didn't cut any ice with him. And, I could sense that it was causing him pain. That was not my intention and I knew I had to work ...

It's going to be a short post... I think. If you're an Indian, who grew up in my time in India, chances are that the word Maya would be part of your primary articulation.  But that does not imply it was discussed, debated or shared seriously at any community forum-family gatherings, school, neighbourhood, religious community or amongst friends. People around me understood Maya in the western and materialistic sense as an illusion. Like others my introduction to Maya were through the Indrajal comics, where you had plenty of mythologies and stories of magic among others. For example, a king cobra's hood appears above the head of a sleeping man and he is declared a king. Now comes the magnificent trick of the Indian mind. It wasn't real but it happened in the story. So did it happen or not? For me, it both existed. I suspect the West doesn't struggle or deal with such paradoxes. Santa Claus either exists or he doesn't.  Maya , I believe, isn't a w...