Earth's hum or the Thinny?

Scientists Track Down Source of Earth’s Hum

Hmm, reading this, all I could think of was the thinny... not in a cave or in the middle of the desert but in the ocean floor.... How would you go to the bottom of the Pacific to traverse the macroverse you may ask.. well there in lies the fact that nobody has... yet...

The Cancer Solution

Sometime in the not so distant future, humans are losing their battle against cancer. They are looking at possible extinction of the human race in under five years at the rate of cancer spread. Doctors world over get together and decide to screen patient’s DNA for the cancer gene mutation; screening without the patient’s consent or knowledge. A person going in for his/her annual physical gets his/her blood drawn and is screened for the cancer gene. If the mutation is found, the doctors under a false pretext of requiring a “procedure” render the person infertile; snipping or tying up depending on the case. They make this irreversible as well and sort of leave a calling card as an ID why the procedure was performed. This ensures that the person does not distribute the genes to their offsprings. In case the person goes to a fertility clinic as well, on looking at the calling card, the person is given some vague explanation and turned away. The gene dies with the person. The handful of humans left are healthy and can guarantee healthy spawns. Problem Solved.

Inhumane? Absolutely. A good story line? Possibly. Could cancer be, by natural evolution, a means to get rid of the not so fittest and substitute with a better race? May be.

Death Magnetic

Hetfield sums it up for all of us Metal Heads........

Need more and more

Right now and ever after

Need more and more

Metallica FTW FOREVER!

From a Scion xA*

* King’s fans will know what this means ;) If you don’t then boo to you :OP

Whoa, my last paper (?!) was published March 2005 about legging it on the Indian roads. This one here has graduated to the 4-wheeler. Where’s the 2 wheeler one may ask. My near and dear can probably regale you with funnies about my experiences with that. There is only a certain level of self-deprecation I engage in and my 2-wheeler (read cycle) traumas are far too humiliating even according to my standards to be recounted here.

So, driving in the US. I prefer the side-roads to the highway. Yes, highways take you from point A to point B faster but they can get boring. No amount of heavy metal or shock-jock shows on the radio stations can relieve you of the boredom. I prefer the side roads myself; more laid-back and enjoyable. One main drawback (?!) of side roads though is the traffic signal(s). In these days of camera monitored traffic signals one has to either be super rich to afford to pay the tickets or plain suicidal to run ‘em. I am neither and more often than not the signals I cross would’ve stayed amber for about 3 seconds when I go through. I’ve always thought it takes a certain measure of courage to do that and that leads to my paper here.

Assumptions made:

The test group for this paper is very very small – read 1. I don’t know what the mentality of the other driver is, I cannot speak for their analytical tactics as to how far is too far for them to make it across successfully and finally I am not taking into consideration those jackasses who

a. Haven’t heard of a blue tooth headset and are yapping away on the phone with glazed over eyes.

b. Haven’t heard of alarm clocks, get up late, run out with the face they were born with and end up driving while putting another face on – a younger color, coordinated face.

Observances are based on 2 scenarios:

1. The subject is in the first car waiting at the signal – The Courteous
2. The subject is in the last car to cross the signal before it turns red leaving behind (1) above – The Brave

Case 1: The subject is in the first car waiting at the signal – The Courteous

Approaching a signal light, when I am 50 feet from it, I make up my mind. If it stays green when I am about 50 feet away then I am crossing the intersection come what may. In my 7 months of experience driving, this has come up as a safe threshold to make up one’s mind. I will still cross the intersection when the light changes to amber when I am at the threshold because I am going at 50mph and in 50 feet I would’ve beaten the signal, do the math.

Talking about lights changing while at the intersection I have to confess a quirky practice of mine; I associate the lights changing with whatever I am wishing to happen. By wishing I mean serious stuff, not things like ‘I hope I get that handbag’ or ‘I hope whatever I cook comes out edible’, no, but more serious stuff like ‘I hope my brother comes to the US’ or ‘I hope my husband gets an office with a view’. All too often I’ve noticed myself holding my breath when crossing hoping that the light doesn’t change for as long as I can see it and associating that with the fact that whatever I am hoping for will happen without any hindrances. Green light from God if you may. Corny, I know, but driving alone, with only your thoughts for company, stranger things happen.

So, going back to the 50 feet; say the light becomes amber before the threshold, I decide to stop and I think a couple of time I’ve caught the driver behind me shake his head incredulous at the fact that I didn’t make it. Did he have a view of that SUV waiting to make the left turn across us? Did he have a view of that truck already making a right turn from the side onto our lane? Would he still think I am lily-livered if he had a view of all that? May be may be not, who cares? My point is the driver in the first car at a signal is not a coward. He/She would have had his/her own reasons for not braving the amber and more often than not it’s out of courtesy and not cowardice.

Case 2: The subject is in the last car to cross the signal before it turns red leaving behind (1) above – The Brave

When you see a car being the last in a string of automobiles, would you think the driver is a slowpoke or would you think the driver is brave? I wouldn’t call the driver slow. Being the last car in a string means those cars just got through an intersection and the last driver beat the light to cut across making him/her brave. He/She is also brave in the sense that the driver crossed knowing fully well the guy ahead of him could brake suddenly – which happens all too often owing to a long line of traffic stopped at the next signal and stretching all the way to the one you just escaped. Say the guy in front of you brakes just as you cross:

1. The bad thing that can happen is you risk leaving a long tire rubber deposit on the asphalt. Yeah, your heart beat shoots up and your system gets a big shot of adrenaline.
2. The worst? Well, let me just tell you it’s not the tire rubber deposits the EMT’s will be rushing to the emergency room.

So, next time you see the last car, do no smirk at the bloke rather try to recite a silent prayer for his/her soul. They like to live dangerously and yeah, they could be a little rude too.

As an aside, while on the topic of braking, I saw this sticker on a guy’s truck that said “I brake to piss you off”. I quickly changed lanes when I got close enough to read that.

Conclusion:

Having now presented Cases (1) and (2), what is the conclusion? Was there supposed to be a conclusion to this paper? Were we supposed to decide which approach is the best?

1. Beat the light (and hence the system) or acquiesce to the light (and hence the system)?
2. Extol bravery or encourage courteousness?
3. Are you even interested :OP

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhh

Of dark rooms…….

Dark room, half open door; what’s behind that door? You know it’s your closet, but what do you really “know”? Lighted rooms are all on the same plane but dark rooms transcend to an entirely different plane. That door could lead anywhere and God forbid, it could lead to nowhere. That door could keep things out when closed; it may let things out when open. Did I just see an appendage creep around the door edge? No, that was a trickle of water down my shower stall, or was it? Camouflage.

I am afraid to close my eyes; closed eyes are an invitation to allow observation. What if I open my eyes unexpectexdly? Am I going to see a face outside the stall? A body? May be, may be not. I let my eyes wander else where but keep the door in my periphery. Apparitions are supposed to reveal themselves to you when viewed askance. Wait, what was that? Another trickle? I wipe the stall door. Water gathers again. I give up trying to "believe"nothing’s there.

“Come in to the light” I said, “Come in to the darkness” IT said.

Pennywise Lives

Pan's Labyrinth

From Misc

Two words, "WATCH IT!"

IT'S MAGIC! Not often does a movie come by that just somehow appeals to that particular part of your person, scratches that particular creative itch, satiates that particular hunger of the senses. "Pan's Labyrinth" is all that and much much more!

http://www.panslabyrinth.com/

Words cannot convey the extent to which this movie moved me, a review of this movie may follow, it may not, but do let me know if you fell in love with this movie after reading this.

Bugs Bunny-Hill Billy Hare

One of my most favorite cartoons ever :O))

Brahma

The Macro verse

An eerie silence fills the landscape, it pervades through every nook and cranny; every little crevice; it occupies all of the skies; it even consumes the empty spaces betwixt and beneath the skeletons.

(Imagine a bleak frozen landscape heaped with bones, no standing buildings, trees all burnt and withered, all sooty and dusty)

Only two things disturb this muteness albeit in different corners of the world. One - the faint rustle of a silk drape, the other – a nauseating and grating noise of metal on metal. Where the silk rustles, a faint music seems to break through; a music surreal and out worldly. The kind, hearing which, if there were life, it would flourish. Where the grating walks the earth, there is only stench and if it were possible the skeletons and the dead trees seem to shrink even further into the all consuming shadows.

(Imagine a very bright light walking amongst the shadows, you cannot see the figure properly because its after all divine, the other, imagine furry legs in metal armor, plodding across and over bones, turning them to dust)

Brahma stops on His way, He radiates a divine light and the hungry darkness that surrounds Him gobbles it up. ‘This place looks like an abode for children’ He thinks. There are no standing buildings but amidst the rubble He could scry the small bones. He detests the fact that He has four heads and also the fact that He cannot close His eyes. Gods are not allowed even a single moment of shut eye lest the world loses its life and light.

(Imagine a pair of eyes alone in the foreground with the broken down buildings and small skeletons in the background, the eye should be brimming with tears and the only colors would be the faint radiant pink of the skin around the eyes and the faint blue of the tears. Of course there is a ball of light around but not extending to the background)

All He could look upon was death; death of all things living; death of all colors; death of laughter; death of innocence and most of all, death of his most favorite creation – MAN. MAN did have his faults, yes, but it was a personal triumph to see him straighten up from an ape to his current form. To weave evolution into the threads of his offspring, to see what His potter’s hands had made come to.

(Imagine a couple of frames of desolate, wretched landscape; throw whatever creature’s skeleton you fancy)

They say small setbacks in the plans made by divine powers matter to them not, but, for the “CREATOR”, anything that spells the death of His loved ones means another rip in his Godly all encompassing soul.

(Imagine a really sad form bathed in soft light, you cannot see the face yet but you can see from his body language)

So, why is He on earth? Why is it that when this time Gods walk the earth there is nothing but death and devastation?

(Imagine many feet, glowing with light walking a trail of the same landscape, may be a couple of swords or what they call the “Gadayudhams” or "Mace"in hand)

The ‘Pralaya’ (Armageddon) has come and gone and its time to begin creation again but isn’t there an obstacle to that now? Unmindful of the hulking shapes in the dark waiting to smother whatever is created, Brahma begins His music.

(Imagine a huge flood and a great ball of fire, its not clear what caused the Pralaya but u can probably think of some of the same hulking shapes in the background, not clear but just shadows, the place where it says he starts his music, that should be very captivating and a bigger frame)

Shave my legs and call me Betsy!

From now on, till I lose my interest or thread (“again”) I present my take on the graphic novels scene. My work’s organization has been inspired in part by the execution style of “SinCity” and in part by the Virgin Comics project of a few acclaimed Indian and other Asian creators.

This concept of “Brahma” though has been taking form in my head even before I stumbled across the said Virgin Comics project. Would probably be around the time I was reading the “Sandman” series.

I am no sketcher so whatever pictures I have in mind appear as italicized announcements after every call out. I also don’t want this to take a typical comic layout grid of 3X4 or any such format. It would be a totally haphazard organization (an oxymoron if any!) of sketches on a piece of paper.

Some of my favorites (this list is by no means complete):

Here’s the website for Virgin Comics: http://www.virgincomics.com/
Check out their “Ramayana 3392 AD”. They make Indian mythology look cool :O))

Here’s the website for "Sandman": http://www.holycow.com/dreaming/
The Sandman series is a part horror, part fantasy graphic novel that is very inspiring and very very original.

Here’s another one of my favorites, the “Bone” series: http://www.boneville.com/
You have to read it to see how funny this whole series is. An example, a character, Big Johnson Bone on being confronted with a rather unbelievable scenario says, “Well, shave my legs and call me Betsy!” The inspiration for the post title and a line that cracks me up everytime I come across it!

And on that hilarious note I present “Brahma”.

Phobias uncovered

The more that I venture out with my life in this here Americas, the more I am beginning to realize that I have many more things that I fear! For the longest time I thought my only fear was of the Invisible Man, but off late I am beginning to realize there are other fears as well! Fears that leave me cotton mouthed and foul tempered. Fears that wont let me close my shower curtain or close both my eyes while soaping up my face. Fears that make me clutch the God’s medallion around my neck looking for comfort when I hear ‘noises’. Fears that make me recite my favorite God’s chants hoping that would drive away the evil. Fears that accelerate my heart beat that I hear the pounding of blood near my temples. Fears that somehow draw fuel from other submerged memories of ghost stories and monster tales. The latest additions to my ever growing phobias?

Objects may be closer than they appear:

Consider this. A lonely, long winding road hugging the hills - a great wall of rock to your left and chest high weeds on the right beyond which lies a sheer drop to the ocean - night time drive in a car with friends who are fans of the horror fest “The Grudge”. The visibility reduces to a diverging cone of light originating from the headlights. No idea of what lies beyond the comfort of the light, vague shapes that suddenly jump at you when hit by them, vague shapes that turn out to be a gargoyle shaped rock or some eerie pattern woven together by the weeds that dissolve into their individual strands on being hit by the lights. How can you be sure that you will only see a rock or weeds? What if something that is monstrous beyond vocabulary steps out of the weeds? A thing half-rotten, flesh the blue green of decomposition, fanged teeth stained rust with blood of numerous victims past, a thing attired in something that could have been any color but has faded to a greenish gray of rot. Would your sanity stay with you even for the span of time that it would take for two blinks of your eyelids after witnessing such a sight? But then again, don’t you think insanity is a better option than being sane under such conditions? Would we have that luxury though?

Next up: “Better a landlubber”

PS: the friends that I mentioned have been coaxing to make me watch “the Grudge” (for their satisfaction, their names are DJ, Shaani and Sanju Baba) They agreed to all my conditions of taking control of the remote control, watching the movie in broad daylight and bringing my lame ass bead filled fish pillow! (I was never much of a soft toy person but this is somehow just the right size and has just the right consistency! I don’t miss the small pillow that I used to have back in India any more) but I am yet to watch it! I don’t think I’ll ever!

Miscarriages?

Ideas that have been taking shape and might or might not see the light of day or the perusal of a kindred heart :O?

1) Wirelessly transmitted diseases.
2) Freakishly real video games with a malignant code written by a disgruntled employee unlocking which death would only look like a boon.
3) A microwave that not only cooks ur food but also cools it down to the right temperature
so that its ready to eat right out of the oven and no more burnt toungues or spat out
food or watery eyes (of course all these reactions with reference to temperature of
the food and not the quality!)
4) Disposable yet cheap "unmentionables". After weeks of laundering my clothes, I am
pretty sure this would be a very good business proposition ;O) Better yet if there is someway to make all the wasted toilet papers into the said unmentionables :O?

1 & 2 have the potential of becoming either a short story or a novella - I can hear Jeeves and Mal snigger :O< - 3 & 4 are 'probably' good business ideas, I need capital though :O?

PS: "Pennywise Lives!"

The Booger Chronicles

Jeeves and myself, apart from the usual bickering and bullying that we do, also indulge in some so called "in depth" mail conversations. My previous post on Time Travel was one such. We realized that some of the things that we discuss are infact quite good either from the philosophy point of view or for its sheer comic value. Although GMAIL does offer a lot of space that it almost feels beyond limit and hence removing the necessity to delete any mails, we figured that if we "chronicled" the entries onto a blog we might have a good laugh later on about our banter OR realize that we didnt entirely waste our youth after all! So, here goes, The Booger Chronicles ......

http://theboogerchronicles.blogspot.com/

Why the name? Well, more often than not we keep ragging each other about ze booger snack amongst other noxious and/or odorous emissions but we figured it would be crossing a certain level of indecency thats too much even for blokes like us if we call the blog by any of those colorful albeit inappropriate - mildly speaking - names ;O)

The Lord of the Flies

“Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!” said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. “You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?” – Chapter 8, ‘Gift for the Darkness’, The Lord of the Flies, William Golding.

The Beast, the man. The veneer that separates us from the animals is very very thin indeed!!(my friend Jeeves, had this to say about the veneer, “yeah the veneer is very thin !! Dangerously thin !! But you know what, the very thing that makes this veneer thin is the veneer itself !! Well I guess its like saying you are going to die because you are alive :/ !!”) The animals don’t hunt for pleasure or the blood lust, but for us? The hunt is as much pleasurable or at times even more so than the feast after! The red rage that descends over us at times that we care a damn about the implications, the haze that makes the analytical portion of our mind take a hike giving in to that animalistic craving, that urge to annihilate and sheer and tear and rip apart the focus of our displeasure. What makes us keep that in check and what makes us lose it and blunder away into savagery and butchery?

The book says that its society that acts as a leash on our barbaric behavior and once we know that we are not under the watchful eye of a “better” we resort to “uncivilized” behavior. Take picking your nose for example. It is considered impolite and extremely disgusting to do that in public, but in the confines of our bathroom or elsewhere in the house, if nobody is around, don’t we go a’ digging up the canals in search of those moist greenish morsels? Give the piece a once over, studying its texture and consistency before wiping it off on the underside of your chair or your bed?

This is how it all starts.

When left alone in the absence of a society, given a chance to come up with a social structure of our own, do you think we would still adhere to those “quintessential points of living well” that is imposed on us by some blokes who think they know how to lead OUR lives? If there were one such in this imaginary island, don’t you think he/she would be the first to be sacrificed to the “Lord of the Flies”?

The name “Lord of the Flies”, insects that we associate with filth and rot, taking on a place of worship with the boys is a symbolism in itself. Giving us a hint of what to expect when the society, as we know of seizes to exist. The ease with which the hunters adapt to the forests. Critics say that the first successful pig hunt cemented the rift between the two warring factions, but for me it was the killing of the sow with her little piglets nursing at her teats. The first one was more of a fluke and the hunters just wanted to kill the pig and be done with it. But, with the sow, the hunters were getting more pleasure out of the bloody act, they realized that they were enjoying themselves, that’s when they understood the power that they had to take a life, and the way that they take it. Nothing explains this better than Roger’s double sided stake. That stake up her arse and the way it is described in the book,

Here, struck down by the heat, the sow fell and the hunters hurled themselves on her. This dreadful eruption from an unknown world made her frantic; she squealed and bucked and the air was full of sweat and noise and blood and terror. Roger ran round the heap, prodding with his spear whenever pigflesh appeared. Jack was on top of the sow, stabbing downward with his knife. Roger found a lodgement for his point and began to push until he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch and the terrified squealing became a high- pitched scream. Then Jack found the throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands. The sow collapsed and they were heavy and fulfilled upon her. – Chapter 8, ‘Gift for the Darkness’, The Lord of the Flies, William Golding.

I must admit, you could almost feel the resistance against the stick as Roger leans on it and the walls of her entrails tearing apart giving the stick the right of passage inch by bloody inch. You can feel it both as the stick and as the sow and you know what? It seems probable and in a right frame of mind, feels fine. There are theories that this particular paragraph has some sexual connotations too and the satiation that the boys feel after, given their adolescent frame of mind, goes on to partially prove it.

The thing that perhaps hit closest to home for me was the theft of Piggy’s glasses. Piggy - myopic, clever, sensible and the only one with a slight hint of the adult conscience in the group. In many of my previous posts I’ve voiced my fear of the “blurry” and never was the fear more alive than when I was reading the part where Piggy was crouching by the rocks while Ralph was talking with Jack. I keep imagining how Piggy would have felt about the device that executed his death. He would have heard nothing but the rumbling of the rock, he could have made out a vague shape trundling down, but did he realize the enormity of the rock or the lack there of? Was myopia a boon for him that he couldn’t see his death, or was it a curse because his imagination was running wild with fantastic visions of torture? Did he see the haziness of his death in tones of gray in front of his eyes or in gaudier shades of crimson in the clearer eyes of his mind?

At least it was a swifter and quicker death as compared to Simon’s. Simon, the taciturn introvert, the one with the nose bleeds and the stage fears, the boy with whom the Lord of the Flies held his palaver listed in the beginning of this post. The boy who perhaps came close enough to really understanding the Beast and who had to be killed for the same reason. Did the Beast, which was actually the collective barbaric conscience of the group of boys, cloud the judgment of the ones atop the mountain such that what they saw was “The Beast from the Air” and not Simon? Did the conscience see the boy as a threat to its indulgence and existence and hence had to expunge the same? Is it possible for the unconscious self inside each one of us all to somehow make the conscious part of us myopic to what really is and show what really isn’t, which can be construed as a threat?

The “littluns”, the nonchalant way in which they are handled throughout the book, how they are likened to the piglets, and how easy a target they make for the hunters, how the big’uns taunt and tease and hurt the littluns. If the boys had not been rescued by the naval ship, if Ralph had been killed and beheaded as planned, wouldn’t the hunters have turned cannibalistic eventually? Finding it easier to run down and kill the kids, finding their human screams more satiating than the inhuman squeals of the pigs and finally when all the littluns have been “sacrificed” turning on each other and butchering each other when at last nothing remains in the island but the Beast itself, bloated, having had its fill of the fear, the rage, the madness, the butchery and the violence, gloating in its victory and plotting its next move.

Can we stop this Beast?

Undo the Past

1. Once, on traveling with my granny in a bus, I had the window seat and my granny the aisle one. Somebody called me from the other side. I spoke to the person and settled back into my seat. When my granny asked me what it was about, I replied rather harshly “None of your business!” in my native tongue. It did sound very harsh! I must have been in my 4^th standard then.
2. Being very mad at my mum one day on some very silly thing that she wouldn’t do, I was mumbling something and she asked “Say what?” and I yelled back at her “Why don’t u get a hearing aid for that damned ear!!” Only in my mother tongue it sounded abominable. I must have been in my 6^th standard then.
3. My brother – 6 years younger to me, used to have his lunch with me in my class during the initial years of his schooling. We usually sat opposite to each other while eating. One day, while he bent down to pick up his food, his hair accidentally dipped into my bowl, which I was holding in my hand. My friend exclaimed, “ Yew, how are you going to eat that?” I got upset and pinched both of my brother’s legs so hard that it turned black and stayed that way for a week! He was only a kid for God’s sake! I must have been in my 8^th standard then.
4. That day I was late returning from my computer class. My dad had gotten worried and had taken an alternate route searching for me. I came home just after he had left and never bothered to go after him and bring him back home. He came back 45 minutes later and I never even bothered to apologize! I know he was very hurt by that. I was in my 2^nd year of college then.

I know, undoing the past is out of the question. All I wish is for a chance to go back and apologize!

Scariest Monster Ever....

Personally, I would say that “The Invisible Monster” is THE scariest one ever thought of. My justification? Well, say you had a “visible” pet monster (what an oxymoron!), you could always think up of some way or the other to get away from its three arms, the spiked belly, the fire emitting ass or the revolving eye! You could think of tangling up the arms or stuff the belly spikes with your pillows till the tip or plug that ass up and run for cover to save yourself from being coated with ectoplasmic slime. As for the revolving eye? Come on, I thought of so many escape routes, can’t you come up with one?

Anyway, back to our guy. How can you get away from something that you can’t see? Given, that you could throw a package of flour on the thing (given again that you had enough control over your arms and didn’t end up coating yourself with the batter, a toasty snack for the fiery wind breaker perhaps!) But what if the chemicals that went on to make the thing invisible had some how made it non-stick too? What if there was no shimmering around the monster as usually reported in the reel life? What if it levitates two feet off the ground so you don’t see the foot prints? What if it did not smell obnoxious? What if you couldn’t feel it but it could rip you apart? What if it were reading this post over your shoulder? Would you know?

An eye for an eye

Its ironic that a few days ago, while discussing the India-Pakistan situation, I told my American friend Kaipo, “If that nuclear missile button were under my hand, I wouldn’t think twice before depressing it and completely annihilating the country!” Verbatim. I told him that Pakistan is literally bleeding the country and it wouldn’t do if we sit twiddling our thumbs thinking “This will go away as long as I just keep issuing statements and maintain my peace!” I told him that there is no justification to what Pakistan was doing because it was a part of India as well and hence it has no claim to anything that it boasts as its own. I told him, infact India would be right in usurping Pakistan as its own. I quoted the Indo-Pak war of the 1965, how India won the war and how we should have taken in Pakistan as a 25th state or whatever the number was back then and be done with it.

Now, after Munich, after Spielberg’s shot at trying to explain both sides of the equation, I wonder. However heinous a man’s crimes, at the time of dispensing what we think as righteous punishment, the movie tows the line that humanity does peep in and what must have been a satisfactory deliverance of justice is completed with a pang of remorse. I would say that this sentimentality is the bane of human society. How can you look at a monster that so systematically plans the execution of a bunch of people and still try to put a human face on him? Does destroying scum make you a killer? Weeding is what I call it.

The Gandhian way of non-violence has lost all of its premises except for the name. It is more of inertia, a reluctance to precipitate any face off. The politicians to consolidate their political standings, the commoner to just keep going as they are as long as the effects of terrorism do not start intervening their lives. But what is happening in Kashmir? Does anyone really know what is going on in the minds of these people? Have they gotten used to violence as their way of life so much that they don’t even bat an eyelid at any explosion?

So, these terrorists, engaged in jihad for whatever ideals, how do they convince themselves that taking these many lives is going to help? I would say that this decision making is made simpler because they are taken as a part of a “MOVEMENT”! A collective conscience that somehow assuages the guilt that would otherwise have racked the person if taken single handedly. Even attacks are planned with groups and back-up groups. If any one person develops weakness the movement is quoted as an argument to make him/her swallow personal feelings and carry out the destruction. So when it comes to a question of killing this said group, should we be bothered with the fact that they actually did it for the movement and hence do not bear any responsibility? Aren’t these the people that form the movement and hence to dismantle the movement the individuals HAVE to be killed. True that some innocent lives will be lost in the process but in terms made famous by the US military advocates, Collateral damage is an unavoidable evil in any war.

An eye for an eye makes the nation blind, true! But better blind and vindicated than sighted and wronged.

Narita Boilovers

All through the flight travels over these 2 days (15^th and 16^th of January 2006), during landing, I kept having this feeling, probably coz I read “Fight Club” but still, I kept thinking, there’ll be a thud and then the aircraft will either veer off the runway and ram into the terminal buildings or just keep ploughing on until stopped by some natural landmark which would again lead to total annihilation!! The song that I thought of as closing credits in this grand fuckaroo that I call the motion picture of my life would be “Die die my darling” and for those of a softer twist of music taste “Crash and Burn you are not alone!!”

Talking about Fight Club, if Palhuniuk is so much against all this post modern concept of commercialization and in your face marketing that makes u feel that u need all those armors of designer clothes and accessories to face this corrosive world, why would he let his publishers print the book with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton on the cover? Heck, why did he even sell the book? Wouldn’t it have been better off as a blog? Then again, yes, publicity is limited in a blog but isn’t the first rule of fight club “You do not talk about fight club?” Writing and not believing in what you write is probably right up there in the vilest of sins because if you aren’t true to your thought you are doomed for the rest of your life to lying to yourself!! If you can't be true to yourself you lose your worth even in your cognizance and in that case doesn’t your cognizance in itself become a pretense? Your attempt at proving to the world that you are somehow better? Then again, why would you want to be better? Why do u need that comparison? Why do u want to be compared and weighed and rated and ranked? Why don’t you just do what u like and love and be done with it?

Is there such a thing called present?

-"YES" says Jeeves, "NO" says me!

All this started after me watching “12 Monkeys”, especially by the fact that the younger Bruce Willis sees the older one back from the future getting killed right in front of him. This was a mail chat that Libu and myself had regarding this.

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 8:05 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

hey! i was thinking abt 12 monkeys today and i have this theory:

say, u are time travelling and go to the past, if some person living in the past sees you then you go down as a present event in the past time isnt it? then it means u are history for the future time from which u came! which would in turn mean that in the future from which u came there already exists a record of that past which means u didnt time travel any way! makes sense?

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 8:16 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

:)) Oh yes it does : ) ....me and johnson were talking about this for harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban, the time turner funda !!! Only think I cudnt put it in words as well as you did :D !! I tried writing about it, but it all turned out so drab that i left it.....

If you dont have such a record you couldnt go back in time, coz a footstep you put in time, will always trigger something which in turn will trigger something and in the future the chain reaction is ultimately bound to result in something big or miniscule (I believe in symmetry) ! So if theres a present then theres a present for it and a future....well if this mean that either time travel is not possible or that theres only the present and no past or future (dont think thats possible though!)

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 8:26 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

u know? this question about only the present and the absence of past and future, i've once read a story, dont remember the name or the author, think its arthur.c.clark though. anyway, in that story this airplane somehow breaks through the space time continuum and arrives at a point of voidness. there is nothing around, its just void! then they see that like a kids building block or something, the time is built around them, subsequently the past get erased. its like a stage where the props are dismantled and built again. so, this basically negates the theory of time traveling as there is no past that u can go to as it has already been destroyed and no future u can go to as it hasnt been built yet.

yes, we do have history of the past but as we do not have any history of a person of future time traveling we can either say that time traveling hasnt happened yet (stephen hawking's argument) or the traveler from future has indeed gone down in history only that as we say he has been recorded it is not time travel anymore, he became an existence at that time and hence seized being a stranger from the future.

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 8:43 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

wow..i will try to get that book !! Yep it is certainly interesting...you know I havent read a brief history of time...sigh...yes !! earlier I used to have a sort of mania that any good book I know of, I will read it only once I buy it ;), but now since I have to pay for the books I buy, I sometime do get over this mania ;) !! Well brief history of time was one of those books...and later on i jsut got onto other things and missed it completely....I should get it some time soon and read through it....

Yep that does make sense and it works if the person is travelling into the future too : ) !! Well then it could also mean that we keep travelling back and forth between the past and future to make the present a function of time (which it is !!!) and whats more each recorded event in the past is a "present" !! Hmm.....that doesnt make sense because the present is dependent on the past and not a standalone instance....hmm...

lady you have just distracted me entirely from work !! Not that iam complaining :D !

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 8:51 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

:O)) this has been eating my head since y'day (quite sometime infact but i could verbalize it only y'day) and i knew that without discussing this out loud i'll just be running around in circles!

each recorded event of the past is the "present" only if u travel back to that instance, otherwise it is just fact that may or may not have transpired .. but that branches over to truth and fiction!

but it isnt necessary to keep travelling back and forth in order to make present a function of time. it already is, immaterial of whether we choose to travel or not. time is a vector and so far as we know can only travel forward but then again at this instance in time it is constant. every second is a constant and we can only extrapolate about the next second or refer to facts about the previous second! does that make time constant and not a variable as we have only the present instance (or unit of time) to work on at any given point?

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 9:46 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

Had a project discussion !

If present is a function of time and time can only move forward then there is no past, we keep recreating the past(which is present) with each moment and then in the next moment come back to the present. Then there is no concept of future or past :D !! We are just living in the present and what we believe should not be the present, we label as future and past depending on the various sensory signals that we get. Hazy coz, how do we "sense" what is the future and what is the past ? Especially as we have no concept of past or future only the present. Then that mean everything that happens is the present and that there is no thing called a future till we reach it ! I think Iam going around in circles :-/ !! Hmm......

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 9:56 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

that does make a lot of sense dude! if u say something happens, u immediately commit it to past! u realize that something is happening only after the moment has passed. say i am typing this mail, i realize that my spelling is wrong only after doing this. does this mean that our sense of understanding and realization is all based on the past and not on what is currently happening?

another example, real life event, say u r witnessing a game, by the time u realize what is going on its already past! u understand only after it has come to pass, does this mean there is no present or that time has no meaning in the present?

(i think i am contradicting myself!!)

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 10:49 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

Yes, I believe it is so. I have read that our reactions are based on experience and logic. For logic you require experience. And for experience you need sensory perceptions, i.e sense.
Time certainly does have a meaning in the present, else our sensory perceptions wouldn't mean anything. Hmm....a sinless world it would be :). Since that is not the case, time should have meaning. And what is the effect of sensory perception ? The future or the present ? Hmm..should be the present. Well then we get away with everything according to how we perceive things. So that we can say that there is no future only the present !!??

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 11:21 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

see, even this sensory perception, whatever events are happening at the present unit of time as such do not have any meaning or cause or effect. only after it has come to pass do we understand what has really transpired. our sensory perceptions are also delayed reactions, be it by a nanosecond, but still its a nanosecond into the past!

the future, we dont know anything about that, so there is no way for our perceptions to act on the future, the present as explained does not give us any explanation to what is currently happening as we do not have the ability to gauge events as they happen,it should have completed for us to know what it meant. so only in the past time has any meaning at all!!??

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 11:34 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

Well that basis is very relative because response times vary from person to person. and yes response is always a reaction so a delay does exist. But then we need to define what past is. Because, if time has meaning only in the past, then what happened a million years ago has a meaning. When I do not know what happened a million years ago, how can I say that Iam raising my hand(or whatever) because of what happend a million years ago and not because of something that happened a nanosecond before ??

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 12:55 PM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

that is exactly why whatever truth or history that u read u always take it with a pinch of doubt unless u were directly involved. even u being a spectator to some event does not convince u as much as it would have if you had been involved in that event.

if u are talking about evolution and such, that is still a hypothesis, nothing has been proved yet and the missing link is yet to be found. if u think just what ur life is, what u've been doing and what u know is concrete, then u'll have defined the past in ur perspective! and henceforth whatever u do is still adding on to "past" because it has already passed. the more i think of it the more i feel that time has no meaning in the present as there is no such thing as present, there is no way u can define present! the present is just another entity that is elusive as nothing that we do or feel can let us experience present! we are creatures of the past! however quick ur reflexes are it is always instantaneous and "as a result of" or "due to" and never "co-existing"

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Wednesday, October 19, 2005 4:25 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

Iam not okay with that. Suppose you are going to smell a flower, and you suddenly wrinkle your nose in remembrance of another stinky involvment with another flower. Thats coming from the past. But when you inhale deeply because the flower has a nice fragrance, its the present. You say its the past, coz a nano second has passed. But I did rather think of present as an action-reaction pair. Else like you said, I agree it doesnt have a meaning.

Becuase even if you consider something that is past it does not have a meaning unless you associate a reaction to it. You smell a foul smelling flower, you wrinkle your nose. You cannot accept the past as only smelling the foul flower, but also the "wrinkling" of your nose.

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Wednesday, October 19, 2005 4:38 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

Hey one more thing, what I meant about defining the past was actually quatitative. I meant, fix a limit like, past is so much time before the present :D ! And use that for everyone irrespective of their instincts or reaction speed e.t.c. !! But yeah it didnt seem like a good answer, so the action-reaction pair..

From: Swethambari Seshadri
Sent: Wednesday, October 19, 2005 8:25 AM
To: 'Libu Balakrishnan'

when u say action and reaction u already commit the action to the past as u cannot have the action-reaction to occur simultaneously! so by the time u realize that the flower smells good the action of actual smelling has passed and the fact that u realize u've smelt the flower to know the fragrance becoomes past and ur reaction once u realize has become past too. but i guess if one gets into this mode of arguing that every reaction is delayed and that the realization abt the reaction itself is delayed one totally discredits the present!

(and i am fresh running out of anymore arguments as i think both of us have reached the situation when we keep talking abt the same thing over and over! change of topic u think?)

From: Libu Balakrishnan
Sent: Wednesday, October 19, 2005 8:51 AM
To: Swethambari Seshadri

yeah i guess...coz i cannot take it that the present does not make sense ;) !! Hmm...anyway will sit on it for some more days....

Zonkabudullahs

- Their triumph over the wax solvent

This is but a small incident in the increasingly adventurous lives of the “Zonkabudullahs” - the creatures that live in our ear wax. In this world that is becoming increasingly aware of the necessities of cleanliness and the increased number of specialists who take care of the tip of your mane to the nail that you cut off your toes, these ZonkaBudullahs are living a very precarious life indeed. Many have perished in those tidal Debrox or Murine waves - famous earwax solvents - or under the mighty sweep of the cotton bud or the suctioning thingy that the ENTs use. They have adopted to survive the shampoo washes and the heavy metal music. In this world of jetsetting travelers, they’ve even perfected the art of managing varying pressure levels. They’ve learnt many survival techniques to weather the yawn, the burp and the gulp. They wouldn’t outlast the Debrox or the cotton bud or so we thought.

This is the story of a band of ZonkaBudullahs that live in one such ear - a hairy ear one at that; a zonkabadullah’s heaven, a lover’s nightmare and an ENT’s one more reach towards his shaver!

Characters:

Mo Waxze - Cool Dude
Ohr Wachs - German Immigrant
Waximillian Cera - Chief, right ear
Gluttunous Waximus - Commander
Mezhugooni - Lose gun
Cesara Cera - Chief's daughter, Mezhugooni's girl friend
Keri Hairystotle - Scientist
MAN/Ray - The owner of the ear where these ZonkaBudullahs are living
Beethovax - Chief, left ear

Refer to the diagram of the anatomy of a human ear at the end of the narration. There is a name guide too at the end.

Scene 1: Ohr Wachs and Mo Waxze listening in on a telephone conversation from the outer ear lobe. A pretty precarious place for the listeners. The latter doesn’t mind but the former is pretty shook up. He is there only because his wife nagged him into it.

***********************

MAN: OK doc, 1430 it is. I sure hope the ear clears away by then so you can carry on with the examination. See yea later doc.

Ohr Wachs: *GASP* you hear that? He be going to the Doktorr! Ach Gott! What is going to happen now? Herr Wachs be planning on buying ze 13 holed perambulator for junior! I was about to brung her ze beautiful sediments that haf been so nicely developing near the Tympanic.

Mo Waxze: Oh bother! You knew dat da brother was expectin' some trouble. That why we on eaves droppin' duty dude! No need to panic yet. The appointment in’t until nex' week!

Ohr Wachs: But you hearrd him. What he meant by “clear away?” He is getting ready to drown us in Debrox he is. And that don’t wait till next week in’ t it? Ach Gott! I should haf stayed in zat pillow. I could’ve been alive in that at least.

Mo Waxze: You forget dude? Dat thing was squeaky clean! You forgot da state you were in when we hauled your sorry nether side into dis 'ere neighborhood?

Ohr Wachs: I remember and appreciate it too, truly, but malnutrition is much better than drowning in Debrox.

Mo Waxze: Oh bother! Listen up man, we gotta go inform da Big W about dese 'ere developments. Da sooner we decide what to do da better.

Ohr Wachs: But what can we do? Nothing but pray to the Gott to see us through till the end of the canal!!

Mo Waxze: Come on, pull yourself together man. Lets go, hurry up!!

Scene 2: Waximillian Cera aka the Big W's chambers. A high level meeting has been called to sort out the issue.

***********************

Mo Waxze: Dats da report chief. We be lookin' at mass annihilation - look'd da word up in a dictionary an' been repeatin' it lest I forget - in under 7 days unless we do somethin' 'bout this soon.

Gluttunous: But what can we do? Eat and be merry. Enjoy these last few days of your lives and die with a brave face on. No need of rationing food supplies anymore. Indulge yourself because the day of the reckoning is upon us and may God have mercy on our souls.

Waximillian: Enough Waximus. I rue the day I appointed you as my commander. Only those damn labor laws that you so well promoted are prohibiting me from firing your sorry arse!

Gluttunous: mumbling under his breath

Waximillian: Enough of that. Now, fellow budullahs, I believe our venerated Keri Hairystotle has a plan to see us through this predicament but it involves considerable risk and the sacrifice of at least 2 of our budullahs's lives for this cause at the extreme. Keri?

Hairystotle: Huh? Yes, yes. Marvelous. Thanks Cera. I have been working on this "Project Noah's Ark" ever since my entire family was wiped out in a Brine invasion. For those of you who don't know what it is, warm brine was used for dissolving wax in the olden days. That fateful day, I had a brief fight with my Pa and ran away from the house. I took refuge in a particularly dirty appliquéd part of a pillow and that’s when the nightmare happened, only it was real. I still wake up with their cries ringing in my ears at night. I still remember that the last thing I told them was "I hope you die!" I’ve never forgiven myself after that. I dedicated my whole life as a penance for what I did.

I wanted to make the ZonkaBudullahs as invincible as possible that even the mother of all Debroxes wouldn’t harm a single hair on our kin . And believe me gentlemen and lady, I’ve succeeded.

I had to undertake a lot of perilous treks into the forbidden regions beyond the Tympanum and into the weird structures of the Malleus, Incus and Stapes. I’ve wandered the Eustachian Halls, got lost in the honeycombed Mastoid, slid down the Cochlear slides, battled the seas of the Labyrinth, waded through the forests of Corti and finally arrived at the promised lands. I wouldn’t hide my pride in saying that I’ve found deliverance my fellow Budullahs and with some help from a fellow brave blob and some contraptions that I’ve designed, we can survive his catastrophe and go on living.

(applause)

Thank you. So, this is my plan. We begin this exodus tonight as we have heard from reliable sources that our MAN here hasn’t been to the pharmacy yet to buy the solvent. We begin the process by first evacuating the ladies, the kids and the elderly. Cesara Cera here has volunteered herself for this first phase. They would carry only as much food as they can and some valuables that they desire to retain. The second phase would contain the rest of the Budullahs and need I say that they will be loaded with as much food as they can in order to help us survive till the next non toxic wax build up.

After much deliberation and caucii, the route has been thus planned. I’ve mapped the territory as much as I can and left behind markers wherever possible. So, the first batch takes the ear canal down to the Tympanum. Thanks to our MAN's earlier pin experiment, there is a sight tear in the Tympanum, which we can use to our advantage. This proves as a con for us too. We have to rule out a simpler and approachable refuge behind the Tympanum because obviously some of the solvent can seep in . So, past the Tympanum, we come to the precarious slopes of the Eustachian halls which we should totally avoid unless you want to slide down the walls and slowly drown in a cess pool of mucus. Instead we have to scale the peaks of Malleus, ski down the Anvil and thus reach the Cochlea and the semicircular canals via the Stapes. Now, here we have 2 choices. Either take the route into the semicircular canals - the horizontal one for ease of stay - or wade into the Cochlea and hide amongst the forests of the Corti. Both have their own pros and cons, and infact at this point I would have to let the budullahs' better sense to guide their path. There is no way that the solvent can reach us there.

Now, to the contraptions. Thank the almighty that we are not cursed with the sense of smell! We would have been long extinct if we were able to smell this dung heap that we call MAN, unfortunately we cannot smell the delicious "rice-bran-wax" either. But under the current circumstances, we must count our blessings. So, that rules out any masks for solvent smells which I am told is pretty heavy for the MAN too. But we should take care of the pressure factor. Remember that past the tympanum, the pressure near the Stirrup increases about 17 folds and not even our cultivated ability to adjust to aircraft pressures will help us there. So, I’ve devised a special suit using what is known as the Capstan Principle. For those of you who are interested, this suit has inflatable tubes and cross stitching in the garment which can be used to tighten the suit against the budullah's body thereby counteracting the expansion of gases and fluids of the body. I gleaned this information from this documentary that the MAN was watching about the MAN's mission to some place called the MOON where the altitude causes too much pressure. Using the population poll results, I’ve been able to manufacture as many suits. They are made of the ear buds that are found in the MAN's earphones. We must count our blessings yet again that our MAN works in a call center and listens to music when he is not at work giving us ample time to pillage the ear bud.

Second, adhering to the path. In order to keep from getting lost in the labyrinths, apart from the map of the region, I’ve developed a device that taps on to the electric signals passing along the auditory nerve and thereby helping us stay aligned to the path of the nerve and thus not wander off. Remember, the entire journey ought to be taken along the path of the auditory nerve except during certain detours near the Malleus and near the approach to the Cochlea.

As for knowing the time to come out hiding, Mezhugooni here and myself have decided to stay back and warn you off once the danger has passed by transmitting some pre-decided signals via the tympanum, our very own "war drum". As for our safety, I’ve designed some solvent resistant suits created from the dead skin cells scraped off the epidermis, as you would have noticed that the MAN's skin suffers no damage from the solvent. We have also designed some barges with boards that we managed to salvage when our MAN slept on his table once.

So, there it is gentlemen and lady. A foolproof plan that has been planned meticulously. For those of you who are concerned, we have warned our cousins in the left ear too about this situation and they have decided to follow our methods of escape. Beethowax there is in charge of operations, and being a fellow scientist, has designed the contraptions for his Budullahs too based on the specifications that I gave him. All this of course was transmitted via the Tympanum, long live the Morse Code.

Waximillian: Thanks Keri. There you have gentlemen and lady, the best plan I’ve ever heard and an example for generations to come about the Budullahs that overcame the Solvent! We shall now disperse, we have a lot of things to attend to. May God guide you gentlemen and lady and may he see you through to the end of the canal and beyond as is the current case.

Later that day, phase one of the plan is complete, after a rather passionate parting between Cesara and Mezhugooni of course. Phase two is underway. Hairystotle and Mezhugooni have decided to accompany the Budullahs till as far as the tympanum. They've decided to lodge themselves at the niche between the tympanum and the ear canal. Mo Waxze had done one last reconnaissance run to the outer lobe and had gathered information that the MAN has already been to the pharmacy and that he was going to flood the ear with Debrox soon after he gets "lucky" with his date. How one could ever go out with someone with such a hairy ear was everybody's doubt. You get weirdos everywhere!


Scene 3: At the niche. Parting of ways.

***********************

Waximillian: I don't know what to say Gooni and Keri. All I can do is pray for you.

Hairystotle: Godspeed gentlemen. See you in the about the longest two days of our lives!

Mezhugooni: Goodbye Mr. Cera, give my love to Cesara. Tell her I am marrying her when I see her again.

Waximillian: Son, do you remember? You are speaking to her dad?

Mezhugooni: Sure, I do. Who better to deliver the news to her? Ciao Chief!

Waximillian walks away with the rest of the gang shaking his head.

Hairystotle: That was swell Gooni, you really like living dangerously don't you. If it were not for the present situation, you'd have been breathing through your stomach for the rest of your life.

Mezhugooni: If it weren’t the present situation, I wouldn’t have told him Hairy! Come on, lets get going, chop chop!

They scale the tympanum using the cotton strings that they managed to weave with the cotton plugs that the MAN used to cover his ear with while sleeping. Apparently he didn’t want any insects to get into his ear. Poor soul, he didn’t know a colony of them was living inside already!

They lodge themselves at the niche and start waiting. Soon enough, there comes a huge roar, sooner than they had expected in fact.

Mezhugooni: I should have taken that bet with Ohr Wachs! I knew he wouldn’t get lucky! Our Ohr Wachs is ever the romantic, he was pretty positive that this would be IT for our MAN here!

Hairystotle and Mezhugooni braze themselves for the first wave of the solvent. They are both clad in their epidermal suits and have their barges ready. And voila, the first tidal wave comes in. They count up to 10 gigantic drops of the stuff and almost heave a sigh of relief. That is how much the MAN can use for a ear, but unfortunately, to add a dramatic twist to the story, our MAN puts in 20 drops of the stuff thereby drowning the entire canal, not even the niche is sufficient protection for the brave budullahs. Although they do have the barges there wasn't any space for them to use the barges. They then decide to take a plunge under the solvent and reach for the tear in the Tympanum.

Mezhugooni: What do you mean drag the barge along? What are you? Out of your mind?

Hairystotle: But I’ve spent most of my life in building these contraptions and I don't want to abandon a thing that I’ve taken so much pride in building. don't you see we may never get cardboard to build the thing again?

Mezhugooni: But what use will it be if it serves only like a Viking’s boat in his funeral? Who knows? You may get a chance at a piece of cardboard again someday. Come on, save your breath. We need as much of it to find the tympanum's tear and squeeze through.

Hairystotle: Alright, alright.

Both take a huge gulp of air and dive down. Luckily both of them remember their positions really well so that soon enough they come to the place where they knew the tear was, or so they thought. The wax alongwith the solvent had become a congealed mass and the going was tough enough, but they see that the tear has been clogged shut. They grapple with the rudimentary pick axes that they have and manage to squeeze through. Not without casualty. Because, Hairystotle in a hurry to swing his axe accidentally rips Mezhugooni's suit. Thank heavens that they were in a gelatinous mass and not the actual solvent. The mass seeps into Mezhugooni's suit but doesn't do as much damage as it would have done if it were a liquid. It cripples him a bit though, somehow he grits his teeth and pulls himself through the tear followed closely by Hairystotle. On the other side, owing to the stupidity of the MAN, there is a droplet of solvent left, luckily the rest had slid down the Eustachian. Mezhugooni grits his teeth, pulls himself out of the puddle and manages to find a level ground near the Malleus. Hairystotle keeps profusely apologizing but Mezhugooni shuts him down with a rather grim statement.

Mezhugooni: Aw man! We left the chow back there! Can you believe that? What are we going to do now? The wax buildup has been polluted, its toxic and unfit for eating, what are we going to do doc? What are we going to do.

Hairystotle: Not now Gooni, not now. Let me take a look at your skin, I need to see the damage. Besides we are not hungry yet. Let me think of something. (looks at the wound) Ah, not as bad as I expected, the solvent was congealed and so it couldn’t spread much. Count your blessings Gooni. You will still hurt, am not downplaying that, but it isn’t life threatening. Now, let me see, during my recent trek here, I had deposited a wad of wax somewhere nearby. Not foreseeing something like this, but, ahem, I stashed it away so that I wouldn’t have to show surplus during the rations appraisal. I had just acquired a harvest of "rice bran wax" - very rare indeed in our Caucasian MAN as it is available in only an Asian ear - anyways, not even a calamity of this proportions would make me share this horde. You just wait here son, I'll be back in a jiffy.

So, as the story progresses, Mezhugooni and Hairystotle have a sumptuous meal of the famed rice bran wax. Hairystotle didn’t for once rue the fact that he had to share his booty with Mezhugooni. Even though he had told him that the wound wasn't fatal, Gooni was beginning to look ashen and he was becoming feverish. He needed all the energy that he can spare, hence Hairystotle feeds him almost 3/4ths of the wax supply. Gooni gets delirious but soon enough becomes quite. His body was fighting the toxic substance and it was winning. Soon enough, they hear a soft "whoosh" and all of a sudden they are dazzled by a white light.

Hairystotle: Looks like the bud has come and gone. We've passed the first hazardous phase, now we have to wait for the doctor visit till we sound the all clear!

The rest of the day and the next one passes uneventfully. Mezhugooni snaps out of the illness and is getting restless. He wants to venture into the ear and see for himself as to how the other Budullahs were doing. Only Hairystotle's extreme persuasion skills hold him back. They spend the time in talking about each other's lives and where they intend to go after this issue tides over.

Mezhugooni: I am going to be the chief, man. One day Waxi has got to retire!

Hairystotle: Is that why you are after Cesara?

Mezhugooni: No man, that’s not it. In fact I had even given up on the thought after I met her, it is she who keeps that flame in me alive. She has a whole bunch of things planned for administration and governance. I think I'll let her be the chief.

Hairystotle: But, don't you know Gooni? Hereditary politics are not allowed here! The person should be at least twice removed from the current office holder to be qualified!

Mezhugooni: So who said Cesara was the chief's daughter?

They both burst into a laughter. And so the chatting goes on. Soon enough the date and time of the appointment arrives.

Scene 4: The ENT explores the MAN's ear with his otoscope.

***********************

Doctor: Looks pretty good in there Ray. Squeaky clean in fact. One problem though. Your ear drum has a small tear in it. Been doing something stupid Ray?

MAN aka Ray: Ahem, sorry doc, I don't know what I was thinking! The other day I had this pin in hand. My ear was itching terribly and I just put in the pin and started poking around! Only when I had a sudden pain did I realize that I had done something stupid.

Doctor: You of all people ought to have known better Ray. You work in a call center supporting the world's largest hearing aid manufacturer! You ought to know.

Ray: (sheepishly) Yeah, am sorry

Doctor: No no, not at all. Look here Ray, its you who is hurting now, so why sorry? But anyways its just a small tear. It should mend on its own. But come in for a check in a couple of weeks if you still feel some pain. I'll put in a paper patch which should take care of it.

Ray: Sure Doc. Say, I pay so many visits to you, don't I get even one visit free? Come on!

Doctor: Now now Ray, don't mix business with personal life. Go on, pay your fees and get going, I have a huge list of hairy, waxy ears to look into (quickly) No, no, no, excluding yours of course!

And so, the threat has come and gone. Mezhugooni who feels pretty strong now transmits the message to the other folks using Morse code that the danger has passed. Hairystotle is a bit weak though because he had given most of the supplies to Gooni. But fortunately the latter spots a fresh formation of the wax very near the mouth of the wax glands. He brings some back, they find that it is not toxic and this time Hairystotle gets most of the share. Soon enough they are joined by the rest of the budullahs. They climb back out through the tear to the outer side. Most of their settlements have been destroyed but at least all the ZonkaBudullahs are alive. They have the man power to build more houses. Hairystotle and Mezhugooni are awarded well for their bravery. Mezhugooni gets married to Cesara and they live happily ever after. Well, happily at least till the day when Mo Waxze came running up the canal shouting -


Mo Waxze: He be goin' to the doc again! This time bugger tore the tympanum from the left side!

*************CURTAINS****************

Reference:

1. Anatomy of the ear:

2. Name guide:

Ohr Wachs - German for ear wax

Cera – Spanish for wax

Mezhugoo – Tamil for wax

Cesara - Spanish for long haired

Keri – Greek for wax

Evolution or experiment?

There must be some reason why dinosaurs are extinct. I am watching “Jurassic Park” and it got me thinking. There is no way that our present human edition or any that preceded this could have co-existed in a single world with those creatures from the said age. Them being that intuitive, smart and thick skinned, there is no way that a symbiotic relationship could have existed between the sapien and them.

True that we have a lot of wild animals in this version of the world too and we survive only by means of our scientific ability and technical advancements. But tell me this, if you were living in constant fear for your life and are continuously relocating, trying to get away from the dinos, would you have had the frame of mind or the goading to make any advancements in the said fields? True again, that our primitive man had many animals to encounter and fight over too, but nothing that a sharpened rock and brawn could not take care of. He had enough time and the predilection to invent the wheel. Pick him up and put him in the Jurassic era, what wheel?

Look back at all those ages and they all look like various versions of a system trying to perfect itself for optimum performance. One age is radically different from the other. Yes, it did happen over many millions of years, and yes, paleontologists have unearthed fossils to prove the exact lineage of the current human, but why didn’t we have any animal as ferocious and as intensely dangerous to us like the dinosaurs?

How did these dinos get completely erased like the formatting of some disk? Just the ice age did the trick? Then what of the single celled organism which fathered us all? How are we to believe that all that we know and extrapolate from that knowledge that we so gain are true? What if its just part of the great hoax?

Sound like the experiments of some mice?

New Project

Although i do promise that I'll finish "Jardine Trinket", here's a new one I've been working on.

http://dimens10n.blogspot.com/

* Shank’s (night) mare!

This paper talks about the mentality of the pedestrians on road when tackled with the problem of overtaking a stationary bus. The paper talks about the various options, scenarios and problems with each option and the psychology of the pedestrian when confronted with such a choice.

Assumptions made:

This is true for those Indian pedestrians - or peds in short - in one of the many suburbs in any of the cities. This also applies only to those suburbs that do not have a footpath for the peds to walk on. Also, as the sample group that I’ve considered is only for Chennai suburbs, I believe further improvisation would be required to make this global!

Some basics:

The people who travel by the Metropolitan Transport Corporation, MTC in short - still PTC (Pallavan Transport Corporation) to some – must be aware of the concept of “Staging!” To the uninitiated, the concept of “stage” is tied up with the ticket charge. For a particular stage which corresponds to the distance between two not necessarily successive stops say the ticket charge is Rs. 2.50 for the immediate next one the charge increases by 0.50 paise or something. So, needless to say, the conductor ought to dispense away the tickets to all those who board the bus in Stage 1 before he reaches Stage 2 lest the government is swindled off that 0.50 paise! So, if the crowd is excessive, the bus is stopped somewhere in between along the side of a road so that the conductor can wiggle his way through the crowd and dispense the tickets.

The theory:

This, as explained earlier, concerns neither the bus nor its passengers but those peds who ought to get past the bus to proceed on their way. Me being an avid walker, I’ve been studying the mentality and the methods that the peds follow when confronted with such a slightly capsized metallic hulk of a bus on their way. On reaching the bus the peds go through a brief emotional struggle as to which side of the road they should take. The bus is stopped by the left side of the road so that other commuters can get by. So, now the ped has to decide whether to take the inside route and brave the foot boarders who have got off the bus and soaking up some of the hard-to-come-by breeze or go by the outside route and brave the traffic. We’ll take this argument case by case.

Case I: The ped has decided to take the inside route

Case I being what it is, the ped comes across the below problems:

• If the ped belongs to the fairer sex, she has to withstand the cat calls of the foot boarders who consider that ogling at women peds on foot from such a vantage position as the footboard is a protocol that ought to be strictly followed!
• A ped of any sex will mostly have to traverse an obstacle course with a regurgitating cow chewing the cud, a couple of dogs, lots of vegetable refuse from a nearby green grocer’s, discarded make-shift utensils from an “aatu kaal” soup road side eatery, a sewage that is miraculously always brimming with water even when the city is suffering from an acute water shortage and so on and so forth acting as obstacles.

The problems being what they are I still can maintain that people who come under this category are passive and unadventurous people whose only bout of adrenaline powered rush would be when the aforementioned cow flicks its tail at them or when the dogs snap at the ped’s ankles! They don’t mind dirtying their pant cuffs or saree edges or their footwear.

Case II: The ped has decided to take the outside route

This poses the below problems:

• The most important problem or might I say disaster that could occur would be the “liquid missile” which somehow finds your shoulders or worse your crest in its projectile path. The said liquid missile being a crimson colored, highly fragrant wad of saliva which as per common law will be ejected out the window when the probability of it splattering some poor soul is remarkably high.
• The oncoming flood of traffic with many an enthusiastic autowallahs who race across as though their tails were on fire, the unruly truck drivers who think they are riding a bicycle and not a truck, the Mahindra vans that are stuffed full with people and then some flitting across the map, other MTC buses, cycles coming the wrong way and fellow peds who come from the opposite direction.
• The driver of the said bus himself starting the bus and banking slowly towards the traffic leaving the ped in the middle of the road, giving him/her the opportunity to scrutinize the tires of the bus closely.

I’ve noticed that those who belong to this category can be called adventurous, speedy, cleanliness minded or downright suicidal depending on how they tackle the problem.

1. Peds who on reaching the derriere of the bus take the outside route after a cursory glance up and down the road are adventurous. It takes about a fraction of a second for them to calculate the distance traveled multiplied by time factor to determine the velocity of the vehicle behind them and they leg it to the front of the bus if they rate the possibility of over taking the stationary bus without splattering the asphalt with their innards high! They can also be called speedy.
2. Those who don’t tackle the obstacle course designed along the inside route of the bus can be called cleanliness minded. They take their chance and brave the wad of saliva than walk in the above described mire. They are sometimes called people with their heads in the cloud, mistaking the fact that they hold their heads high to spot any window seat passenger getting ready for a mighty “snort and eject” procedure. The fact that they would probably step on an already ejected wad should also not be missed. But there are those people, they brave it all!
3. The downright suicidal do not bother for a cursory glance to check for speeding vehicles and just walk the walk daring the drivers to hit them, maul them or at least abuse them. I’ve noticed quite a lot of galoots who do this mistaking foolery for bravery.

Further info:

For the curious, I take the outside route with a cursory glance at times, always hold my head high and shake my fists furiously when the driver takes off without a cautionary honk! The reader can argue that the ped should infact walk facing the traffic and not the other way to avoid all this, but then again, the butcher shops that lie on the other side of the road forms another topic for another day!

Note: The writer is a very patriotic Indian who is not making fun of the current condition of the country, comparing it with any firangi country just for comical value. The writer is also not a dumb spectator to the ongoing soiling of the environ and tries to practice what she preaches.

* The tickling incubus!

She woke up with a tickling sensation along the base of her spine. Well, you can’t call it waking up; she wasn’t able to move a muscle. The tickling was almost unbearable and she was reminded of her childhood days when her dad tickled her pink when he was in a good mood. Initially she would come over with a case of giggles but when her dad kept up the pace of the action she would start feeling scary, that he wouldn’t stop vellicating and that she’d definitely laugh to her death. What would start off as an effort to humor her dad in his occasional good moods would morph to one of mortal fear; a feeling that her dad was still being mean but as people mistake a laughing child for a happy child would go by without rescuing her from his clutches. A novel method to satiate his meanness perhaps.

She wanted to swat whatever it was that was troubling her. She was almost sure that she had been dreaming of some astral being in her room. As she usually slept on her side, it wasn’t long before she made the connection between the being and her current predicament; that it was some poltergeist that took pleasure in tickling people to death. She had read somewhere that when a person sleeps his soul or life - or whatever tosh you want to call the state of being alive - apparently leaves his body and floats at about 3 feet above the same. It rushes into the body when the person shows some sign of awakening. This, they said, explains why a person wakes up with a jerk at times. Let alone a jerk, she was not even able to speak. That horrible sensation of hypersensitive nerves telegraphing the brain about their current state of uneasiness, the brain trying to move a muscle or two so that she could turn around and squash the eager torturer underneath or at least make some noise in order to give some auditory let up to her fear, she could picture it all. Yeah, she thought too much!

She wasn’t much of a psychology buff but she had read Freud’s dream theories - his postulation that dreams are a way of expressing your repressed longing - never sat well with her. Most of Freud’s theories were centered about sexual desires and symbolism. Well, she had never wanted to make love to a ghost and even if she had she couldn’t think of her current quandary as ectoplasmic copulation! So, at least Freud’s offhand comment that “Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar” ought to hold good now. She had been reading something about a spooked house or something; this must be an aftereffect of that! Funny how in broad daylight you can laugh at the spookiness of a story or a movie but at the dead of the night you are paralyzed with fear at the slightest sound or a shadow flitting across the walls of your room, a shadow that breaks the pattern tattooed on those walls by your streetlights. She decided then and there, although she can’t keep off horror books, nothing can stop her from having some comic handy; she would read the comic when her eyelids get heavy so that she would go to sleep with the picture of Cacofonix strung from a tree or Hobbes wondering about his tail. Yes, that should do it.

Following such tangential thoughts it took her awhile to realize that she could move now, no more tickling, no more thoughts about “rigor mortis”, dreading that it had set in with the exception of one of the foremost criteria still left unfulfilled – the loss of life! She immediately turned on her back to squash the bug, ah! Now it seemed more likely, yes, an industrious bug or beetle rubbing its mandibles about her back, yuck, yes, but definitely not as mortifying as a spirit!

Eventually she made another sojourn through the world wide web to find out that among the various stages of sleep, during the REM (rapid eye movement) sleep which principally means that the person is dreaming at the moment, a sort of amino acid, glycine, is released which paralyzes a person lest he or she starts carrying out the activity that they are currently dreaming about. Well, she attributed her episode to some such over enthusiastic glycine release that had paralyzed her for a moment even after waking up. Yes that did sound logical, logical of course till her next encounter with the malicious tickler!

* J'ai découvert Proust

I've discovered Proust! His Remembrance of Things Past is perhaps the best book I've ever read and am still in the first volume! The below link is an e-book format of the translated text! My french is way too rusty making it nigh impossible for me to make sense of the original "Á LA RECHERCHE DU TEMPS PERDU" - Marcel Proust..

http://www.nalanda.nitc.ac.in/resources/english/etext-project/proust/proust.html

Although I do realize that there is no comparison between what he has written and whatever rubbish i dish out frm my comp, for those who think that my sentences are long and i use too many commas and hyphens, take that!

I should also confess that I stumbled upon this while trying in vain to see if my blog is listed in any search engine :O(

I happened upon this particular blog:

http://jonsjailjournal.blogspot.com/

Where a mention about Proust and a few examples to demonstrate his astonishing "gift of explaining" were furnished. I found this journal an interesting read too.

* Ostrich Mentality

Have you ever had those nights when you are pretty sure that there is a presence in the room, more often than not sharing your bed? Every small sound in the room magnified, the scratch of a frigging calendar sounding like shuffling steps – although the yet unproved hypothesis that ghosts are not uniped/biped/triped/any-ped for that matter never once crossing the big wad of jelly that you call your brain!

What would you do when the shadows on the wall begin to look like all those caricatures that you’ve mentally conjured up to symbolize a monster or two? Rather than rising up to fight the demon with a pillow fashioned as a sword – well, you can improvise here – we end up imitating an ostrich in times of its stress or scare, it buries its head under ground, we bury ours under our blanket, coiling up, an outsider would sort of get an idea that you’ve become an invertebrate all of a sudden – per chance the monster is interested in drinking up that cerebrospinal fluid with a pinch of fear to taste! *shudder*

Have you ever noticed that this fear mostly strikes when we’ve got up in the dead of the night to empty that dratted bladder or perchance fill it up? The house which in daylight seems not so big to fit in your dresser and corner table, assuming the proportions of a rambling manor in the night, the short walk to the loo or the water dispenser seeming fit enough for a half-marathon.

You can’t even turn on your bed lamp to read, what if the monsters get attracted to the light, waiting just outside the sphere of light, ready to pounce and unzip your guts on turning off the lamp? No, the best way to ward it off would be to cover yourself from head to toe, curling up into something resembling a poked-at millipede, waiting with bated breath for the apparition to pass away unnoticed, reciting the name of God at least a hundred times, praying that the being – or is it not? – to glide by leaving you unheeded, but have you given this a thought? What if they are mind-readers? If you can believe in such astral beings then why not go the whole hog and assign all conceivable powers to them starting from a pair of tangible shanks right up to a cognitive ability capable of mutilating your thinking and being?

That leads to another question, why are they most of the time feminine, with long unbraided hair which look badly in need of a wash and conditioning? Why always in a black attire with black rimmed eyes and each tooth shaped to resemble a stake? You know? We ought to start making an honest attempt to change this appearance first, and then probably use “ridikulus!” to turn the phantasm into a joker! But thinking about it again, don’t these jokers look scary themselves with their bloody grin and out of the reality clothing? Confession - Am positively clown-o-phobic!

* The trinket has moved on!

Well, considering the spurt of growth that the trinket has put on, I've moved all the Trinket pages to

Jardine Trinket

Please visit and pass on your comments and yeah, do not forget to leave behind some of your happiness either!

"May the great Gumba illuminate your path to the end!"

* May your days be long upon this earth

Time is a face on the water. Time can heal, time can mend. It is the antidote to suffering and pain, parting and misery.

Pain and sorrow are but a few grains in the whole desert called life. There can be an occasional oasis, but you can’t deny the desert. Love is but a mirage that eludes you. Whatever time you spend looking at it is all that you get to bask in its glory. On reaching the place you are left with a huge disappointment, this great lump in your throat that hurts like a bastard. You feel that your eyes are getting hot and you tilt your head up, lest the tears find a terrain they like the best. If let flow, they become perennial in their nature and all but drown you in their briny presence. But, human kind is about survival. It’s about trying to find the next mirage. No matter how many disappointments you face, you know that there ought to be a water source some place! So, you go hunting. You never forget your first sighting of the first mirage, but neither do you stay behind in that place, hoping that it would rain one day and you’ll get your water.

People move on, the first step is the toughest, it hurts like hell. You are ready to wallow in self-pity and go to the extent of fading away from existence. But, understand, you are what you think you are and events have a way of arranging themselves depending on what you think about them. Believe, believe that the darkness will end and the sun will once again rise to warm up your cold limbs, believe you are better than all of this, believe that there is a power that created you and believe also that it has given you enough strength to tide over the current things. Believe in who you are and do not wear your heart on your sleeve. Believe that “THIS TOO WILL PASS” be it happy or sad, good or bad!

PS: "May your days be long upon this earth" and "Time is a face on the water" are quotes from Stephen King's "The Dark Tower" series.

* Additions to Murphy's Law!!

• The stray polythene bag will always find your leg to wind about!
  
• When you really really have to use the loo, someone would go before you and would take a long time to get out!
• You will always miss your train or bus by a whisker and they are always empty whereas the train/bus that comes next would be awful crowded!
• You will always have a bad hair day when you are having a client visit and you want to look good that day!
• Any photo oppurtunities at work would be on your worst dressed day!
• The day you want to leave work early would be the day you get more work to do!
• A team lunch would be on a day when your stomach is upset!

* Space-Time warp

Quite simple, all we need is 3 times 14 TeV of energy!

We know that a person standing in front of a mirror with another mirror in his/her hand can witness infinite reflections. Making use of this infinite reflection, you can open up a portal is what I am trying to convince you people into believing. Light, at a particular angle of motivity should be able to do the trick; there in fact would be a band along a central value, which would correspond to the present. Depending on the variation of the angle you can decide as to from where you want to enter the wormhole and go to what time. Up along the band means ahead and down means behind. This I am suggesting on the theory that a person need not enter the wormhole only at its throat, he/she can enter it from elsewhere, provided he can create a warp enough to pass through.

We know that energy is non-destructible. A theory holds a belief that all the radio/TV transmissions that we’ve ever beamed are still bouncing off in space and an advanced ET technology can home in on these signals, follow it up like a mutt on a scent and reach destination: Earth.

Given this, we know that what we see in the mirror is the reflection of light waves bouncing off us and for all purpose of generalization, is lost in the multitude of waves bounding off. So, what if we succeed in containing all these waves bouncing off the mirror surface into another smaller mirror which would reflect back again, using a combination of convex and concave mirrors, albeit under controlled reflection? * *

For this we may have to device a hybrid variety of a mirror, which should be placed under controlled conditions with the facility where this is being done free of any substance that can absorb the EM waves. So probably we’ll have 2 mirrors, one a 2D rendering of the traveler, the other in the form of a suit molded to the traveler’s physique (this in order to restrict external reflection) with the radius of curvature so large that it is almost entirely flat. The source of external illumination should be placed along the principal focus of the mirror, and needless to say, at the focal point of the mirror. Probably then, this controlled reflection would reach such an increased magnitude of focused energy, that the photons would be too compressed (there is a theory that says photons cannot be compressed, they only annihilate and recreate themselves!) With the appropriate amount of energy on this ball of matter we could curl up the strings of the basic particles (by the belief that all particles in fact can be traced to the squiggles of a string, with length of 10 raised to the power of -33) leading to a space-time warp. Well, all this is a given provided we can generate as much as quadrillion times the energy of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva (whose energy build up is 3 times 14 TeV – 1 Tera electron volt, TeV = 1 million million electron volts ).

Read this article about the Theory of Everything. It’s a great read!

http://www.firstscience.com/SITE/articles/kaku.asp

But this brings me to a logical question: For argument sake, let us assume that we succeed in devising a way for space-time travel, we do know that we cannot change the events that have already happened, we cannot alter events, so, say we travel forward by 1000 years, say, given that we cannot alter events, wouldn’t we be dead already? Einstein’s theory of relativity says that a person traveling in space with the speed of light does not age, also, the link above postulates that the river of time forks into 2 and whatever you alter would be the history or future of a parallel existence. But that still means we are altering the events of another person, how can that be possible?

**Concave mirrors, light incident along outer rim, direct to one point in the middle, if a convex mirror at this point with appropriate angle of incidence, can reflect back the light to outer rim of concave, this will go on endlessly, but heat is also generated, so, that would explain the loss of energy, this has to restricted.

* Why can’t cockroaches be ET’s?

Self proclamation -> not a very good effort, but heck, no longer an unfinished one! but read the last article!!

Our basic theory to look for oxygen breathing bipeds (this in itself is a faulty logic that only humans are cognitive in their assessing ability) in near earth like planets is FUBAR. There is a story by Arthur. C. Clarke, where in he puts forward the theory that the extra terrestrial is a cloud of immense intelligence, and on performing a genuine KT with some professor, the professor suffers a hemorrhage and collapses. With the amount of destructive energy sources and weaponry that we’ve been using, 2 things can happen,

1. The ET’s get repelled from us either out of revulsion or fear of us blowing up our own planet. The time as we measure may not work for them. In Hinduism we say that for heavenly beings, what would be eons for humans would essentially be the blink of an eye (supposing they have one!!) So, at the rate at which we are progressing we may end up blowing up part of the world, with the radiation spreading its creepy fingers for others to be maimed and pass on the deformity in their genetic make up, thereby leading to abolishment of the entire race, except of course for the cockroaches, planet earth may be free of humans in half a blink of their eye!

2. They get attracted to us like moths to a light and end up using us and our power sources, mayhap without our knowledge. An ET with such an intention would never show up in its true form (always assuming that they have a tangible physical form to go along that is, however, there is such a theory that they are shape shifters assuming the shape of a highly acceptable person or our worst nightmare whereas in reality they are nothing but a cloud or energy!)

Also, there is this theory going around that life form in this planet was seeded by beings from elsewhere (no guarantee that they live on terra firma or underground, they can be vagabonds, galactic nomads, moving between universes, seeding here, reaping there!) What is to stop the theory that we are in fact microbes going about our measly duties while these so called nomads observe us through their positron microscopes (assuming that they have in fact garnered the antimatter energy) But this leads us to another question, all our theories of physics and mathematics have been postulated by rules and laws that govern our earth, what is the proof that these can apply to other parallel planets or universes where the equations can be different? Where the basic constants of our hypotheses could in fact be variables?

So, back to the point of the cockroach, well, we do know that they can sustain high levels of radiation without showing any trace of mutation or hurt, they have never evolved from their insectile selves ever since humans cared to experiment with their fossils or their real life counterparts. So, why can’t a cockroach be ET? I don’t mean to say that they are intelligent, but come to think of it, I think they are intelligent. They’ve understood long back that survival is the only need and not the underlying question as to what lies at the root of this entire life thing. What do we achieve by all this relentless digging and researching and increasing hostility? Everything seems so futile.

* A day in Jurassic Park - 8th grade!

**This was an essay that I wrote when I was in my 8th grade. I've just typed as is from the yellowing piece of paper that I've been hoarding! No edits/cuts, am especially fond of this because I won the first prize for this, an Oxford English Dictionary!**

A Day in Jurassic Park

Steven Spielberg’s fantastic film “Jurassic Park” has created a great sensation in us which resulted in my dream. I saw the film the previous day. The next day I had the following dream. I thought that if it had been real, oh! Terrific. The big dinosaurs I saw in my dream were of many kinds. The T-Rexes, the chiprodactors, the Styracosauruses, the Velociraptors etc. Now time for me to explain my dream to you.

As soon as I slept that day I was transformed to the Jurassic park. I landed in the park with the help of a parachute. I was a representative of the department of archeology of our school! (what? Department of archeology? Don’t mind it, it’s just a dream). The landing was itself a terrific experience for I landed beside T-Rex’s cage (Thank god I didn’t land inside it!). It was feasting upon a gigantic yak. I felt guilty as I am a vegetarian. There I met Uncle Borough (don’t mind the short form) who was the owner of the park. I felt like the dinosaur (T-Rex) was gazing at me and was fixing dates to prey upon me. I asked Uncle Borough to take me to the main quarters. We went to the head quarters and had a sumptuous breakfast.

I was feeling sleepy but I was reminded of my duty. I went with uncle into the fascinating park. The first visit was to the cage of velociraptor which threw a preying look at me. The next programme was taking photographs. The dinosaur which gave me a beautiful pose (a pose which the best of the best models cannot give) now ran and hid itself behind a large bush. To explain scientifically, it was “Negatively Photographic!” With great disappointment I went to the next cage. It was chippu’s (chiprodactors). He was a harmless little chap. He gave me beautiful poses. In the park I also found the 90 feet tall diplodocus and 2 and a half feet tall comsognathus. After a whole noon of both terrific and pleasant experience I had a delicious lunch and I went to sleep.

I dreamt as if T-Rex was gobbling me up. I started and got up (i.e., in the dream I woke up). I thought I would make a last attempt in taking photographs of the velociraptor. I asked Uncle Otto (oof! The short form changed, sorry!) to take me to his cage. Thank God he was now not scared of my camera. When I was about to take the photographs I heard a familiar voice saying “Hey Swetha, get up! It’s 7’o clock” It was my mother. It was time for me to retreat from the fascinating world. But what to do, I had to.

* Another one that I was tooling around with! (but read the last one!!)

So, what does the second term of Bush in his White House tell us? That America is the next kingdom, where the “Sun never sets”? Although, we have to appreciate the modesty of these people, they haven’t gone the whole hog and usurped the invaded countries as a part of their nation, the 52nd and 53rd state perhaps. The US of A’s election mandate is quite clear. “You keep fighting Mr. Bush, we are behind you, after all only the Americans are civilized people with the right to live, never mind what the cost is, both in the physical as well as logical sense of the word”.

The media, the quintessential example of what Arundhati Roy quite aptly called “Free if you Agree Speech” is selective in sieving the reports coming in from Iraq or elsewhere. The same terrorism that the USA swore to abolish from the face of earth is a partisan of the Pakistan Government. But again, do we deserve a better treatment? Do not think of me as non-patriotic. Mend your internal strives before commenting about the externally encouraged terrorism. Cross border acts of violence and usurpation are terrorism, but when internally things happen, they are hindutva/riots instigated by the minor community. That too, the reports differ from news agency to news agency depending on whose payroll they are in. Needless to say these are all doings of the politic and if nothing else, we’ve learnt the concept of “DIVIDE AND RULE” well from the old Empire (watch it, old Empire, the new Empire lies a lot to the south and west of the older one!)

Be it the Babur Masjid demolition, Gujarat riots, the Maoist insurgency, the Veerapan fiasco, name anything and all you see behind is a political party reaping benefits. It is not a people movement, everything is biased and we’ve become a very selfish lot indeed. Our country is bleeding internally; festering wounds are being raked even deeper by the so called political leaders, all for personal benefits. To marry off their son/daughter in an event sponsored from the state treasury perhaps, or save up all the money for their half a dozen kids from almost quarter a dozen wives each. You know, if we have complacent people, who have to choose the lesser of the 2 evils, what is democracy then? What is the advantage to the people? They are not bothered, they vote for the lesser of the 2 evils only so that the elected party can even out on their evil-index by being in power. By the time the next election roles in, obviously the opposition has fallen lower in the quotient.

Take anything for that matter. Take reservation perhaps. Everybody knows that most of the caste certificates are hoax, students of well off families get to “study” (I beg to differ on this count!) in good colleges whereas the really deserving dalits and adivasis are being made to drink from a separate set of glasses and not wear footwear while inside the village and now they are asking for reservation in the private sector. How long would it be before a leading supporter of a coalition government start pushing on this and the ruling government wouldn’t have any other option but to bow to the pressure and relent.

So, why am I talking about all this? What can I do about all this? Is refraining from the whole process of election, which is by right for us to exercise, the only way? Then again, wouldn’t people with fake IDs use up those too?

* Morti

Quel est son nom? (My maiden effort at blogging although cannot say the same about writing though .... here, my first complete work!!)

As he lay there, slowly bleeding to death, his mind had quickly done a rewind of his memory and was rushing through all those happy things (which were pitifully few) all those torments (quite a lot that he could have done without, which were also in part due to his over-imaginative mind!) the in-betweens, everything, but he was hardly aware. He was like an underdeveloped person who, sitting amid the bustle of a busy street with all its comings and goings, is hardly aware of the world moving on without him, gaping wide eyed at all those small things that we think are inconsequential but of which we were aware of once in our childhood (the fact that these kids are a whole lot smarter and contended than us is another topic for another day).People circled around him, somebody administered CPR, somebody called for an ambulance, somebody puked. He was unaware, and slowly as his life force ebbed away from him, his parting thought was, “Anywhere but here, please god, anywhere but here!!” He was 20 but the lines on his face announced anything but. He was dead, at last. Don’t pity him for his early death, yet. One of my favorite authors had this thing to say about long life, “You may never know whether it is salvation or damnation” or something like that. Same goes for an early death. It is not always an “unfinished business” with favorite haunts or spooked family and friends. You don’t have to spend some 100 years living to become worldly wise nor do you die an innocent waif if you manage to live only for one quarter of the century or lesser.

Life needn’t always be brutal in a physical sense. I know that many people would agree with me if I say mental health is far more important than limbs. Am sure a quadriplegic with a positive thought process would be more contended with his/her life than a limbed counterpart, but again, I may be wrong. Denial, loss or disappointment (any or all of these) may drive a human to a point of extreme decision, however inconsequential the original event was. It is all about aggravation of spirit and it might as well be the last straw on the camel’s back. So, what is this aggravation business?

Searching for the light switch in a dark room, with your finger traversing the otherwise unknown terrain of your switchboard is an event, to actually have a lizard/centipede/a stray plug wire caress the back of your hand is aggravation. The point of extreme decision comes when this aggravation is accompanied by wind buffeted curtains, your coat hung on a hanger billowing in the same draft. You know? I have a confession to make here. People who are short-sighted suffer more from this excessive imagination syndrome than normal people, because you have to imagine a lot of stuff when you are alone in ur bed, your vision blurry, frozen stiff due to some apparition (the thought that it might be ur curtain never once crossing your mind, add to it the shadow of a branch from a tree outside and leaves …. enough enough) your spectacles some 2 feet away from your reach, but you just don’t want to break that charm, once you move, the figure would also move, somehow, it may see this movement as hostile and would take up matters in its own claws (gulp!) and proceed for a slow and painful disembowelment! I digress.

Back to our protagonist, he had a pretty uneventful childhood, growing disillusioned by the day, not the apple of anybody’s eyes, always the outlier where in general behavior was benchmarked against that of his cousins who were thought of as saintly by his relatives but if truth be told, they were anything but!

He was not an underachiever but neither was he a prodigy at that. He grew up, went through the process of living his life with such a lack of gusto, that when he passed by, you can’t help but notice his lack of exuberance that is characteristic of the boys of his age. He was like an embroiled thundercloud, which rather than bursting into a torrential rain, is going to implode into itself and get lost in the great void. But few pitied him. That at least salvaged his pride. Sometimes, pity towards a person hurts more than ignorance towards the existence of such a person.

He was sure that he’ll get an answer to his question “Why?” It would be like the enlightenment of the Prince from Lumbini. He read a lot. They say what you read reflects on what kind of person you are. They lied. He could read whatever orbits into his path, anything. But did that make him a romantic? A sadist? A philosophic? A carefree human? A deeply disturbed person? None of the above, all of the above.

He was just going through the proceedings of living, on a collision course with destiny that would cut his life brutally short.

There is nothing called unconditional love! It’s all in the percentage of wanting split between either parties. Some people give a lot while taking little in return and vice versa. And need I say that in relationships, this split of percentage is never equal but is always complementary such that the mathematical doctrine of a percentage is maintained but is never found to be in equal proportion? He was a giver, he was a very generous one at that, but people who understood him were hard to come by.

He had many friends, but not all of them at the same time. Every split from every friend was doubly painful than the previous one. He was like a fly on the wall, never contended with whatever place he was currently, scuttling about, always in search of bigger and better eats. He was always flitting from one bar to another, one town to another, looking for “the person” but always in vain. All that was left was despair about his life, the futility of the whole exercise, the near zero probability of never finding answer to his “Why?” was slowly seeping into his mind. He knew who it was, vaguely, but unfortunately that person was long gone.

That night he was in a bar, savoring his beer, thinking of nothing, thinking of everything, as usual alone, tuning out the boisterous party going on to celebrate the birthday of some person. There were a lot of cat calls, lot of whistling and “hurrahs!” Suddenly, silence, he could see the people’s lips moving, some of them were clearly shouting. He couldn’t hear anything, he felt like he was standing along the coast of an ocean under the influence of a low pressure trough. All he could hear was the grinding of the waves, but no, wait, he could hear a wailing, calling out his name. He was astounded, nobody has ever called him like that except for his sweet mom, but she was dead, died of a heart attack when she was 39 and he 17. A difficult age to lose your mom, heck, any age is difficult to lose your mom. She was calling him, he looked up, saw her across the street, waving at him. He knew then, this is it, this is when I know. He rushed out, unmindful of the bartender’s yell about the unpaid beer, unmindful of the birthday party he unsettled quite a lot of people from their stools, one of them suffered a prolapsed disc and another, a shattered elbow. He ran, his feet felt like they were running through taffy, he was scared, thought that he could never run fast enough, his mom’s wails would taper away to the nonsensical babble of the traffic or people, he didn’t know which was what! He ran, cleared the bar, crossed the pavement in a single stride and set foot on the road; he never knew what hit him. He wasn’t bothered about the pain neither did he know that he was shouting, not in pain but in vain. Shouting for his mother, asking her to wait, that he is coming, just a minute, sorry that I am tarrying but some stupid old man with the reflexes of a sloth had hit the breaks a bit late. I am coming MA! And close on its heels, “Anywhere but here, please God, anywhere but here!”

And somebody else asked, must have been the bartender (its hardly important), “I’ve seen him around for almost a month now, say, what’s his name?”