Category Archives: 07 – Under a Bowler Hat

Jostling With Ethics -1- : Finding the Roots

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When and where did I format my conceptions about ethics? How and when was I convinced that right and wrong have to be adjudged, right is to be adopted and the wrong shunned? I do not think I was ever lectured about ethics. Yet, my parents managed to transfer their value system into my subconscious so well by the time I left home that I seldom had any difficulty of choice in real life. How did they manage this transfer? This is a mystery that I have not been able to solve. Read the rest of this entry

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Jostling With Ethics -0- : Finding A Definition

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I have often struggled within my self to answer a question: Is my behavior ethical? The first impediment in finding the answer has been to find the definition of what is ethics. The dictionary told me that ethics is a set of moral principles that govern a man’s behavior. I found myself no wiser be cause I then had to define what is moral. Morality I was told is the ability to ascertain between right and wrong. But, is not right and wrong subjective terms dependent upon environment and circumstances? Read the rest of this entry

A Very Small World – 7 : Chiku weds Ramesh

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Archita Mehta was at Kalakshetra with my daughter Swagata (who is known popularly as Mishti). Archita was known to her friends as Chiku. Mishti and Chiku grew to be close friends, close enough for Mishti to learn Gujrati and Chiku to learn Bangla to a high degree of fluency. Slowly, her parents also got to know us. Leena and I found the Mehtas to be friendly. Usha Kant Bhai Mehta was deeply immersed in history of arts and craft and was engaged in research and publication in that field. Sadhana Ben was a dancer herself, specializing in folk songs and dances from before her marriage to Usha Kant. They were clearly an artistically inclined family. I presume they also found us to be worthy of their friendship. The two families grew close together. Read the rest of this entry

Remembering Kukke Suresh

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Like last time, the telephone call came from my son Subir.   Like the last time, the news he conveyed was sad.     ‘Daadi Shastri has passed away’.  ‘Daadi Shastri’ for Subir meant the mother of Kukke Suresh and Grand mother of ‘Bubba’ Aishwaria.    She was in her nineties and ailing.   Such passing is inevitable but that does not make any such happening any less sad.   It also revives the memories of other such sad moments:  like the last time. Read the rest of this entry