Tomichan Matheikal's blog

Blogging is just about twenty years old.  Though the word ‘blog’ was coined in 1997, there were just 23 blogs in 1999.  The figure leaped to 50 million by the middle of 2006.  That was a phenomenal growth, no doubt. The most popular ones among the early blogs dealt with politics.  Slowly every subject under the sun made its appearance in blogs. I would become a Yogi Aditynath if I decide what bloggers should write about and what they should not.  I would be the last person to go around burning blogs or anything at all that does not suit my taste.  However, I would certainly expect at least one thing while visiting any blog: it should give me something , something worthwhile. Once blogging became popular, just about anyone became a writer.  Even illustrious poets like Shelley could not find publishers initially. Shelley paid for the publication of his first book. Bernard Shaw who won the Nobel Prize for literature published many of his plays himself.  Many books which became

The new Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, Yogi Adityanath, is someone who has given an entirely new dimension to the word ‘yogi.’  People like me belong to a period which saw yogis as ascetics, people who dwelt in a world of spiritual contemplation, who established a profound relationship with the entire universe based on understanding and compassion.  But I realise that the universe has undergone a sea change. We have a lot of yogis, babas, sadhus, and what not, along with their female counterparts who have redefined the nomenclatures . Take our latest hero, Yogi Adityanath.  He has been elevated to the highest post in the state though a traditional yogi would not have touched such a position with a barge pole.  His supporters in the state shouted slogans such as: “If you want to say in India, you have to chant ‘Yogi, Yogi.  Those who refuse to say it will not stay in India.”  So we have an entirely new yogi who is dividing the nation into two clearly disjoint groups: pro-Yog

A fairy tale without fairies Once upon a time Babas were confined to hermitage and holy things.   Those were the days of fairies and mermaids, tree nymphs and water sprites. Then one day a disease called sickularism entered the forests and rivers.   Sickularism spread like wildfire or plague or TV ads.   The fairies and mermaids fell prey and died one by one with apparent vengeance.   They became extinct.   So did the nymphs and sprites.   The Babas were starved of nymphs and sprites.   So they migrated in search of the steroid of inspiration.   Political slogans spiced up with the right measures of patriotic herbs and nationalist leaves and cultural roots brought them ecstasy and heavenly bliss. The bliss spread like an exhilarating amrit and the nation became spiritual.   Sickularism was declared the national disease.   Schools were converted into ashrams in order to deal with the national malaise.   Textbooks were rewritten.   The new knowledge intoxicated the