When subtle is no longer subtle...

I found myself at a yoga lesson a couple days ago when my Chinese (and hence, supernaturally lithe) friend talked me into it. I don’t believe in yoga, or anything that is as subtle for that matter. If I need to contend that I am putting my body to a grindstone, I have to, well, put my body to a grindstone. So, lifting weights to a point where your arms cry out in pain or running till your lungs deflate are all good, but stretching your hands up over your head and focusing on your “center” – very dubious.

Reason why, since a mandatory second grade class (at a time I don’t recall having bones or joints that would hinder bending and stretching), my only encounter with the popular eastern discipline has been Crichton’s very elaborate account of how it changed his life. Since I agree with him on a lot of things already – writing science is more fun than doing science, it would be wonderful to have dinos back on the planet, computers are for dreaming, not programming — I thought I’d change my mind about yoga. Also, I was excited about any American additions and subtractions I might find (which in the case of food at least, seem to result in something entirely different and quite often more attractive). It’s hard to be creative with yoga apparently (how many ways and forms can you twist two arms, two legs and a torso into anyway?), because, turns out, except for the outfit and the very plush yoga mat, it hasn’t changed much in two decades and 10000 miles :)

I must admit that it was fun, though having put into it the diligence I put in everything else, I have ended up with a sore back and hip, making my daily two-mile run seem like a joke by comparison. And it has left me wondering just how dangerous subtlety can be (here, I resorted to old faithful: the method of thinking where the stretch-yourself-to-the-limit is purely restricted to the mental).

A high school English reading by the very eloquent G.K. Chesterton comes to mind. In “Worship of the Wealthy”, he describes the power of subtle flattery as opposed to blatant adulation. While flamboyance can easily be determined as false, a mild remark extolling a trait that may exist but is not necessarily as exalted as it is made out to be, can be very credible to the receiver, to the point of being dangerously misconceived.

I first noticed the perils associated with artful discretion when I was a newbie to the “American” way; the subtle manner in which professors divulge to a student that he is wrong particularly intrigued me. The student is left with the right answer, no doubt, but the professor has fallen short of stressing just how wrong his initial understanding was. While I am not a huge fan of the blunt “you’re wrong” I often received in response to my carefully crafted answers in Indian high schools (I stopped trying so hard in college ;)), I do think it allowed me to never make the same conceptual mistake again. On the contrary, this polite and gentle manner of evading criticism makes the student hang on to his belief for a dangerously long time, and usually requires three to four refutations, where one point-blank negation would have done the job. It is all good to have the person at the grocery store tell you how sorry she is that they don’t carry jackets (however stupid your assumption was that they do). But when you are discussing transcription factors that regulate the expression of important genes in the human body, a little black and white is in order. In grad school it could mean a hundred failed experiments, in medical school it could make the difference between life and death.

Religion is a topic very close to my heart because it amuses me a great deal; so let me drive home my point by putting it in the context of that holy realm. Despite the fact that most Indians grow up in pious Hindu families that celebrate many a pooja with pomp and splendor and go on a pilgrimage every few years, the younger generations tend to weed out this “belief system” as they grow older and wiser. I have hardly ever seen that happen with Catholicism, however; if you are born into a devout Christian family that goes to church every Sunday, more often than not, you grow up to be a human being that goes to church every Sunday.

Hindus seem to be able to purge themselves of this deep-rooted belief in religion because, quite simply, it is easy to dismiss stone idols of a hundred odd deities and richly dressed goddesses being bathed in milk and oil (note: this is by no means the essence of bonafide Hinduism, but has come to largely represent the religion in Indian society). Christianity, on the other hand becomes ingrained into the very soul, because it comes with no tangible motif to shrug off, no artless ceremony to look at with a skeptical eye, no ornate piece of decoration without a practical basis. The ratio of fanatical vs. moderate believers in Hinduism vs. Christianity speaks volumes. And I do believe, that had I observed enough muslims in my lifetime, I would have come to a very similar conclusion about the idol lacking Islamic faith.

So the next time you bypass a very obviously grease-laden pizza to go for the surreptitiously ranch-dressed salad, by all means, help yourself, but it might be good to remember that while subtlety may appear innocuous in all its tenderness, it is sometimes doing more damage than its loud and forthright cousin.

A good fendi imitation has to have near-perfect linings and seams to pass off as a bonafide -- the plaid cannot be slightly askew nor the tint a tad glossy.
In the case of the imitation fendi, toning down might help, in real life situations, however, you’re better off with a little extra sheen, because more often than not, they’re easier to scrape off…