Latest news with #Gilgamesh
Deccan Herald
24-05-2025
- Politics
- Deccan Herald
Deepfakes of Digital Kurukshetra
In a telling moment from a few weeks ago, US President Donald Trump, when challenged in a televised interview, insisted that a digitally augmented photograph showed gang tattoos on the hands of a deported asylum seeker. When journalist Terry Moran objected, Trump snapped: 'Why don't you just say yes?'.That question – equal parts demand and deflection – reveals the deeper malaise of our time. Misinformation is no longer accidental. It is strategic. It is not just the domain of trolls and fringe conspiracists. It now emanates from the highest governance offices, dressed in certainty and powered by all of us, there is an ongoing battle with misinformation. In this environment, it is essential to understand that information is different from data. Information is data with context. Strip data of context or place it in the wrong one, and it becomes something else altogether – misinformation. This distinction can be understood through a simple framework: right data + right context = information; right data + wrong context = misinformation; wrong data = falsehood – whether due to misinformation (ignorance or error) or disinformation (intentional deceit)..This distinction is often blurred, even by respected thinkers. Yuval Harari, for instance, refers to myths, narratives, and fabricated content under the term 'information'. But without context, we erase the line between knowing and believing when categorising everything as information. This conflation of truth and narrative is not new. It echoes across civilisations, as in epics like Gilgamesh and the Mahabharata. The context is that these are epics that must be studied as such. They tell us how civilisations grappled with questions of duty, power, mortality, and meaning. Some events or characters may have a historical basis. But to present them wholesale as history, without critical examination or supporting primary sources, is to misinform. The mistake is not in the data but in its category. Presenting myth as myth is a cultural understanding. Presenting it as an empirical truth is a Mahabharata itself contains an example of misinformation. On the battlefield of Kurukshetra, the aged warrior Drona could not be defeated in combat. Krishna advised the Pandavas that Drona's spirit would break only if he believed his son Ashwatthama was dead. Bhima kills an elephant named Ashwatthama, and Yudhishthira, known for his unwavering commitment to truth, is responsible for delivering the message – 'Ashwatthama is dead,' and then he adds under his breath, '...the elephant.' Drona hears only the first part. Dejected, he lays down his weapons and is subsequently the data is correct. An Ashwatthama has indeed died. But the context is withheld deliberately. The result: misinformation. And the consequences are is one of the earliest and most profound illustrations of truth used deceptively (an ancient deepfake) – not by falsifying the fact, but by manipulating the listener's interpretation. In a way, it is the prototype of today's misinformation, where half-truths circulate with powerful effect, often amplified by the Ashwatthamas take the form of deepfakes – real people, convincingly mimicked; of phishing emails, eerily tailored by AI to your tone; of voice-cloned calls and videos, shared without verification. Human malice scripts them. AI amplifies them. Even sharp, technically sound individuals fall prey, not because of ignorance but because of misplaced trust in what looks and sounds guard against this epidemic, we need to nurture two capabilities: triangulation and intuition. Triangulate everything. Use multiple primary sources; look for assumptions – clarify what a belief is versus what is verified; read beyond headlines, seek nuance; build cognitive resilience, the truth is rarely a single are no longer passive recipients of information – we are participants in its creation and curation. Our responsibility, therefore, is not to be Drona, accepting statements without probing their context, or to be Yudhishthira, letting the pressure of outcome dilute our commitment to truth. Let us counter misinformation by developing a deep understanding of data and context.
Boston Globe
21-05-2025
- Boston Globe
Can a river be a person?
Macfarlane starts off small. It is 2022, and the local spring is running dry. 'Has the water died?,' his young son asks. It's a query that will recur throughout this book. But by 'If you find it hard to think of a river as alive, try picturing a dying river or a dead river,' he notes. 'This is easier.' Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Related : Although it may be the logical next step, the author takes a greater leap in his choice to use anthropomorphic grammar. Instead of saying, for example 'a river that flows,' he writes, 'I prefer to speak of rivers who flow,' treating rivers and other bodies of water as if they were people. Macfarlane's smooth prose doesn't often rely on this construction, but it is jarring at first. For readers who accept the conceit of the book, however, it is part of the package, and this grammatical anomaly, initially off-putting as it may be, becomes as smooth as a river stone over time, in part through usage and in part thanks to Macfarlane's copious quotations from indigenous sources who do the same. Advertisement The personal explorations chronicled in the book are equally adventurous. Although the author starts with the spring near his home in Cambridge, England, with detours to other bodies of water, including the Mississippi, the Arno, and the Ouse, the bulk of this book is centered on explorations of three threatened waterways, in the company of the locals who know them intimately and are fighting for their preservation. The first of these adventures has him hiking through the mountains of Ecuador's steamy Los Cedros forest. He and his colleagues are tracking the area's namesake River of the Cedars. Like the other waterways of this watershed, such as the Puyango-Tumbes River, it is being polluted by the residue left by gold mining. His next great adventure takes him to Chennai, India, where the Adyar has essentially been killed by development and industrial pollution that also poisons the air around it. The final journey involves kayaking through the Mutehekau Shipu Basin in Canada, a strenuous trip that sees him bleeding from black fly bites and capsizing in 'a welter of white water' in life-threatening rapids. Related : The scholarship underpinning these adventures is impressive. As Macfarlane undertakes each journey, he casually references both history — citing, for example, humanity's 'drive for control' over rivers, begun more than 5,000 years ago on the Yangtze — and literature, from Gilgamesh on, as well as current environmental legislation, such as the Whanganui River Claims Settlement Act of Aotearoa (New Zealand). Throughout, he weaves in personal stories of activists and beliefs from riverine cultures as far-flung as India's Idu Mishmi and Canada's Innu, building a foundation for his case that is both deep and broad. Advertisement But it is the author's language that takes the biggest leaps. Macfarlane is a lyrical writer, his prose packed with alliteration and imagery, much of it connected to rivers and water. But while the overall effect is hypnotic, at times his metaphors are strained. 'I'm pierced again by hope and futility: the two streams of the waterfall,' he writes. And not all his imagery hits home: 'the mintcake-white hyperbolic love-token of the Taj Mahal' is as over-ornamented as the structure it seeks to ridicule. Coupled with the copious references, the result is dense and can be hard going. However, for all these missteps, this is a profoundly beautiful and moving work. Watching dragonflies in India's Vedanthangal bird sanctuary, which has been polluted by the industrial giant Sun Pharma, he notes, 'the sunset has slaughter in it, and spills scarlet onto the vast clouds massing inland.' Elsewhere, a butterfly passes, 'a scrap of silk on a 500-mile migration,' and 'a golden plover cries like rain.' By the time we arrive, with Macfarlane, at the thundering gorge at the mouth of the Mutehekau Shipu, we are ready to 'hear speech … tumbling out of this mouth,' which the author translates in a breathless, elegiac roar. We are ready to go with the flow. IS A RIVER ALIVE? By Robert Macfarlane W.W. Norton, 384 pages, $31.99 Advertisement Clea Simon is the Somerville-based author most recently of the novel " ."
India.com
08-05-2025
- General
- India.com
Timeless Treasures: 7 Of The Oldest Libraries That Still Hold Ancient Secrets
Anaika Sohal May 07, 2025 It was destroyed in the 12th century, it contained thousands of manuscripts on philosophy, medicine, etc. It dates back to the 8th century and contains some of the oldest known medieval manuscripts of all over the globe. It was established in 1602 and is considered one of the oldest libraries in the world. It remains a working library and an essential part of Oxford University. It dates back to the 7th century and it includes the epic of Gilgamesh. It's a part of a Christian Monastery which has existed since the 6th Century and contains a large amount ( second highest) of codices and manuscripts in the world. It was founded in 859 AD and it contains Islamic texts, scientific manuscripts and philosophical works. It was founded in 1475 and contains rare manuscripts. Read Next Story
Observer
19-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Observer
An artist's bold reimagination of the Epic of Gilgamesh at Stal Gallery
Stal Gallery opened its latest exhibition on 13 April in Muscat, presenting 'Gilgamesh: Symbols and Connotations' by acclaimed Iraqi artist Dr. Sabeeh Kalash. Held under the patronage of Engineer Saeed Al-Saklawy, President of the Omani Society for Writers and Literati, the event brought together artists, writers, and cultural enthusiasts for an evocative evening where ancient myth met contemporary vision. The exhibition runs until 22 April. Rooted in the cultural wealth of Mesopotamia, Gilgamesh: Symbols and Connotations presents the world's oldest epic through a strikingly modern visual language. 'This exhibition unfolds the timeless Epic of Gilgamesh through the expressive strokes of a contemporary brush,' Kalash explains. 'Inspired by Mesopotamian heritage, the works portray Gilgamesh not merely as a legendary king, but as a universal symbol of humanity's eternal search—for meaning, friendship, transcendence, and immortality.' An artist's bold reimagination of the Epic of Gilgamesh at Stal Gallery Each painting offers a poetic exploration of key moments from the epic: Enkidu's creation, the battle in the Cedar Forest, the Great Flood, the serpent, and the quest for eternal life. These themes emerge through symbolic forms, abstract compositions, and layered visual metaphors that invite deep reflection. Kalash's artistic vision is as personal as it is historical. 'The inspiration behind Gilgamesh: Symbols and Connotations was born from a profound connection to the cultural legacy of Mesopotamia—the cradle of civilisation and my ancestral land,' he shares. 'The epic offered a timeless mirror reflecting the essence of human existence: the struggle with mortality, the thirst for knowledge, the power of friendship, and the eternal quest for meaning.' An artist's bold reimagination of the Epic of Gilgamesh at Stal Gallery What sets this collection apart is how Kalash treats the myth as a living narrative that still resonates today. 'Amidst the noise of modern life and the fragmentation of identity, Gilgamesh emerged as a symbol of continuity, introspection, and resilience,' he notes. That introspection is tangible across the canvases, many of which resemble ancient ruins brought to life—etched with bull horns, faded inscriptions, and fractured forms. One piece features a kneeling, blue-hued figure caught mid-transformation, surrounded by symbolic orbs and grids. Another overlays winged beasts and warriors with stamp-like motifs and vibrant colour, echoing the epic's chaos and complexity. 'The creative process was fuelled by personal experiences of exile, longing, and the search for belonging—parallels to Gilgamesh's own journey of loss and discovery,' Kalash reflects. 'Each canvas became a meeting point of memory and imagination—a conversation across centuries.' An artist's bold reimagination of the Epic of Gilgamesh at Stal Gallery Dr. Sabeeh Kalash, born in Baghdad in 1948, is one of the Arab world's most respected contemporary artists. He holds a PhD in Contemporary Art History from Sorbonne University in Paris and has taught at leading institutions including the University of Baghdad, Yarmouk University, Al-Mustansiriya University, and Sultan Qaboos University, where he chaired the Art Education Department until 2014. His work—shown in over a dozen countries—is widely recognised for exploring themes of memory, mythology, and identity. In 2020, he received first prize in Oman's international art competition on the COVID-19 pandemic. An artist's bold reimagination of the Epic of Gilgamesh at Stal Gallery Presented at Stal Gallery, known for fostering cross-cultural dialogue through contemporary art, this exhibition offers more than an artistic reinterpretation—it is a thoughtful excavation of meaning and myth. Gilgamesh: Symbols and Connotations reflects the enduring power of storytelling and the timeless relevance of the human journey. The exhibition is open to the public until 22 April at Stal Gallery, Madinat Al Sultan Qaboos, Muscat. Visitors are invited to step into a world where memory and myth converge—where the figure of Gilgamesh walks again, not through ancient clay tablets, but across canvases alive with colour, symbolism, and emotional depth.
Telegraph
29-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Take a historic trip down the A1 with this brilliant book
'The road' has ensnared the imagination of storytellers since writing began. The oldest story ever written tells of the travels of Gilgamesh; Homer's Odyssey reunites wandering father and son; in The Pilgrim's Progress, Bunyan describes the journey of a soul. Roads are magical things. It can be no surprise, then, that the Great North Road – otherwise known as the A1 – has captured the imagination of Rob Cowen in a book which has been years in the writing. Ten years ago Cowen published the original and generically hybrid Common Ground, about his exploration of the edgelands around his new Yorkshire home. The North Road also begins in Yorkshire, with Cowen housebound with the arrival of a new baby. Exhausted by sleepless nights and bone-deep tiredness, Cowen is frustrated by his inability to write. When his father comes to visit, he suggests Cowen visit the nearby earthworks at Bainesse where 12 miles of the A1 are being upgraded. Cowen sets off, trowel in hand. He wonders whether there'll be a story in it. What he finds is a body, buried in mud, which has lain undisturbed for perhaps 1600 years in 'a treasure trove for the archaeologist; a minefield for the road builder'. The team of archaeologists, working ahead of the diggers, have unearthed what appears to be a Roman cemetery. But this is only a fragment of what lies beneath the surface: among the 'emotive detritus', there's 'pots, combs, coins, bones, bits of cavalry harness, children's toys, spearheads, hammers, keys and lucky charms'. For Cowen, what emerged that day was both a creative awakening and a fascination for the road itself. And when an inscription on an old family photograph reveals that Cowen's great grandfather, a self-made man with the restless energy and shifting fortunes of a Dickensian hero, had once lived on the Great North Road, his subject becomes apparent. By the end of his life, Cowen's great-grandfather had gone south, enjoying the genteel delights of Hampstead village (and in his sociable way, often in the company of what was then the world's highest-paid movie star, Elizabeth Taylor, and her husband, Richard Burton). Cowen sets himself the task of travelling, often on foot, the entire length of the Great North Road from London to Edinburgh while at the same time uncovering what he can of the life of his entrepreneurial great-grandfather. But The North Road isn't just a family history. Cowen is interested in every aspect of the road: what lies beneath the surface; who built it and when; who lived alongside it; marched to battle along it; was hanged by it; who worshipped at its wayside shrines. Cowen slips with ease from traveller to historian, naturalist to ghost hunter. At times he slips into fiction, giving voice to the dead who mark his way, and, at one point, to the genius loci of an abandoned pub: 'I watch the maid hurrying down the passage and the yarrow, ragwort and elder colonise the car park. I see the boy with a pikestaff too big for his hands walk past the door with his eager face. I hear the fiddlers and the horses. Rooms disappear; the walls pour with rain. My voice is the sighing of collapsing floors.' There's also, at times, a tonal and visual relationship to TS Eliot 's The Four Quartets, felt in Cowen's awareness of the cyclical nature of things – buildings go up, come down; folk are born, pray, make love and are buried; war follows peace and peace follows war. The road becomes an apt metaphor for our living and dying, as well as the imprints we leave for those who follow. And as a reader we come to feel, with Cowen, 'the way the road can shift set patterns and our ways of thinking and being. The way it seems to erase and remake who we are.' This is an astonishing book in its scope and vitality. It's one to relish and revisit – not least because at its heart is an exuberant love song to both the living and the dead. The North Road is published by Hutchinson Heinemann at £22. To order your copy, call 0330 173 0523 or visit Telegraph Books
