Inside a silent mind

2006-12-30T21:49:00.000-08:00

Moments

Hello, how are you today? Come in.

I took a seat. I sat crumpled up like a ball on the seat. All this demeanor, for what?- I thought. I wondered why I was cowering away from him like that. I just took relief from the fact that I was the most incompetent unconfident moron on the face of this planet. My timorous nature has often lead people to interpret me as an obedient and decorous man. Yet, few took it for arrogance, weirdness, and eccentricity.

I thought I will leave by 3-he said. He smiled. I saw two or three of his teeth, misaligned. My smile is worse though.

I have thought about a topic for your thesis. I think you must have read my mail.

Yes was all I managed for the reply.

There is very little study on the travel to work attributes and their influence on teleworking. I suggest you start out by reading about this from the literature. There is a lot of literature out there on teleworking. However, you may start by reading potpourri paper. Wait, potpourri is it, or…

He sat and thought for a while twisting his chin with his hand. I thought that there probably cannot be a person named potpourri though it is a perfectly legitimate word in the dictionary. I concluded he must be some sort of poppuri or something. Could be a Telugu guy, for all you know. You couldn’t ask him for it meant inability. You should never ask silly things to big shots was an aphorism at the back of my mind.

Yes poppuri and Patricia’s paper also. The paper by me and Pat you can find in my webpage-he continued.

All that thinking gave me the time to open up my bag and remove out my only book.

I have mastered the art of maintaining a focused and attentive countenance while remaining as inattentive and unfocussed as one can be. It’s all in the eyes and the forehead actually. The angle of inclination of your head counts too.

To be honest, it is not that my recklessness is deliberate. My effort to shield it is deliberate though. I try hard to concentrate and fail. I fail and fail and then act.

I noticed that he had brown eyes.

In fact, Pat mailed me regarding this. So the possibility of adopting teleworking or not can be studied and then the frequency can also be studied. While adopting teleworking is a yes or no kind of a decision, the frequency is ordered.

He went on to explain me this and I understood it too. I then mentioned that frequency comes into play only to those who actually adopt teleworking. I said this so as to say something. Yet another strategy I have mastered. It turned out to be an excellent observation. Now, that is a rare thing though.

Good, I think we can employ nested logit model for this. But we will try unordered binary mnl. That is more sophisticated. Hmmm…this is very exciting…wait let me mail Pat regarding this.

He turned to the other side and started writing a long detailed mail to Pat.

I sat motionlessly for a long while. When I was confident that his concentration reached a level where he was no longer aware of my presence in the room, I breathed easy. I looked around. I looked out through the window.

It was raining heavily some time back. Now it wasn’t. There was a small windmill rotating over a building. I figured it couldn’t be a windmill as it was too small. It could be a miniature model or something I thought. There was an anemometer to its side, an instrument with rotating cups to measure the velocity of wind.

I wondered why windmills were always fixed in a particular direction. I pictured an innovative wind mill which used something like that anemometer to sense the direction of wind first and then align accordingly to ensure maximum output. I concluded that it didn’t make sense somewhere, else such a thing would already have existed. I always keep thinking of such silly innovations.

Out in the distance, through the window I saw the stadium. It was empty now. I remembered how we went to see the stadium during a match, a few months ago. The atmosphere was electric and filled with orange color then.

Just in case he was still aware of my presence in the room, I had to act busy. I took the pen in my hand and started to fill out the page behind the current page of my notebook through punching holes. I filled about three holes blue before the ink started to smell nauseous and I had to stop. I concluded that ink in US smells bad too.

The whole of his room was ordered. All the journals, books, course material, assignments, all documents, all labeled, all arranged, all referenced. He was a great man. He was the best in the business and he knew it. I deeply admired him and the aura around him at that moment. I looked at him and he was all immersed in the mail. I figured a snapshot of the place at that particular moment of time, with the thought processes of both the brains revealed. His brain would show all the rays of thoughts focused, concentrated in one direction, aimed towards one goal, perfect, untarnished and immaculate. Mine would show rays distributed like a glowing bulb, in all directions, all over the place. I smiled at myself.

There were a pile of papers in an open wooden container labeled “in” and a similar container with papers labeled “out”.

He hung all his certificates on one wall, framed in costly wood. There were many. Above all of them right in the centre was his undergraduate degree from the Indian Institute of Technology Madras. The one I obtained was very similar to it. Below it was the degree bestowed upon him by the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. It was a huge certificate I thought. Below it was that of Northwestern University. It was smaller than that of Virginia Tech yet bigger than the one from IIT Madras. The man had gone places and done things, I figured. I realized that the order of certificates was not the order of his favorites, as I first thought, but the chronological order. To the left of this column of certificates were two certificates from ASCE and a wooden plaque with something written on it which I failed to decipher. Among other certificates and awards conferred to him was a certificate from the University of South Florida. I failed to make connection with this certificate.

Below this huge gamut of certificates and awards were a few paintings by his daughters. One of them said Happy Fathers Day. I remembered a close friend of mine who also made similar hand made greeting cards for her parents. She said it meant a lot more than purchased cards. She loved her parents a lot. I knew that. I ventured on her memories for a few minutes.

There was an Australian flag above the racks containing all the books. I remembered that he would visit Australia for four months next summer.

His board was not erased since months. There were random strings of letters here and there which, probably, only he understood. Amidst the maze of letters and numbers I recognized 8 9 and 7. Then I discovered all the other numbers too. Then that board also seemed organized with bulleted points. Nothing was unorganized actually.

Then, Ipek came into the room suddenly. I stopped looking around and went back to my clear, poised, concentrated visage.

I want to take the presentation that we looked at before- she said.

Her distinct Turkish accent was very evident. She gave me a smile, leaned over the table, over my book, grabbed the print of the presentation and left the room with that smile. She always smiles. She looks good when she does. After she left I looked at my book and discovered that her brief rendezvous left a strand of her hair on my book. I took it in my hand and examined it closely. This strand of hair is in some way related to Turkey, I thought. I kept it back on the book.

There were three very colorful umbrellas to one side, near the door. I wondered why he had three umbrellas. I pictured a very rainy day when, somehow, his daughters and his wife entered his room totally wet in the rain with those umbrellas in their hands. I figured they left it there for some reason and never took it back. They probably had too many umbrellas at home already.

As I observed all this, I got the idea that a nice blog was underway and then I quickly turned a page and started to note down everything I saw. My notes ran thus:

Stadium --> full -->we attended

windmill, cups rotating.

Look busy

Stacks of ordered paper, books, in-out.

Certificates-lined up --> IITM, Vtech (big) , nu(med).

Which order? Order of grad.

2 --> ASCE

1 USF ???

Ipek --> Hair --> Turkey

3 colorful umbrellas

Aarti --> greeting card --> Pu

Aus – flag

9,8, other nos. on board.

filled holes --> ink smelled.

US ink smells too.

While I was writing all this down, he moved a few times as if to talk to me. I quickly put that page away and came back to the page in which I previously was.

He finally finished the mail and turned towards me. He was very sharply looking into my eyes with his brown eyes. He had the firm face of a great scholar. The look of a hard-working genius was written all over him. I was cringing with guilt for all that I did while he wrote the mail with total concentration. He was a man of fame. He was a man of achievements, awards and laurels. I was so small he had to look at me through a microscope. He was so big and so far away I had to look at him through a telescope.

He then went on to explain me a few more things with a clear one-pointed consciousness. I struggled to gather what he was saying. My mind was working on the lines that I have written above. He wrote a few things on my page. I let him write on my book like a patient lets a doctor operate on his body.

OK? Is that fine? So read all the papers I have suggested and you will get a good start.

Yes-I managed, as usual.

So, I am going to meet your former guide on January 9, 10 and 11. Do you want me to tell him something? How you are liking the place, how your studies are going on …anything?

He probably wanted me to tell him that I was happy and satisfied here or to ask for his regards or something like that. My mouth was thoroughly zipped and I struggled to get words out. I wanted to tell him how much his favor meant to me, how much of good his recommendation letter did to me, how indebted I am to him and all that. I managed to squeak out one sentence. “He has given me the greatest gift ever.”

Is it? Interesting-he said.

In fact, I will mail him. He is coming here for TRB also I think.

Is it? Very good then. Ok, have a good day-he said.

Ok. I smiled and walked away with a myriad of emotions-happiness, sadness, excitement, curiosity, and satisfaction.

Life can be exciting, full of small thrills and small joys. These moments, these small moments of joy, that is what we should live for. This is what should give us happiness and satisfaction. Small things add up to great joys.

2006-10-17T22:40:00.000-07:00

Awlrawk's Footnotes

Room no.23.

Entry passage.

2 steps, left turn, 3 steps, right turn. No hesitation.

No hassles entering the hall-level 12.

Perfection-level 14.

We can do better than that. A lot.

Enter the hall.

Welcome to the hall of show. Yet again.

Tree 1. Advance in slow steps-level 9.

Observe surroundings with only slow eyeball movement. Still body-level 6.

Merge into the tree. Climb the tree. Hide behind a branch. Camouflage-level 7.

Obtain and secure viewpoint from tree. Confirm camouflage. All set.

Attendance-about 150. Composition-fairly uniform.

Begin study. Know your enemies-level 15.

Folded hands, nodding heads-kids of level 1 listening to a moron.

Moron probably level 5, describing skills of level 8. Kids are fools. So are morons.

2006-10-01T17:36:00.000-07:00

Untitled

The actor, ever so fervently involved in the play, suddenly realizes. He becomes conscious of the fact that he is currently on a stage and in a play. The argument that he was zealously making, the cause for which he was fighting, his wife, his children and all the folds of worry on the forehead suddenly vanish. He gets a jerk, looks at the audience, looks at his colleagues and in a confused gaze, just sits down on the stage, right there, right in the middle of the play.

Gentle and cool breeze touched their bodies as they discussed. It occasionally carried away the words. There was a faint smile on both the faces which indicated that they really had no problems in life and were having this discussion just for its own sake but not yearning any fruit. They were joyous, they were saintly. Often times it happened that their discussions were vague and without any direction. There was really no structure but just ideas.

Actor? Play? Stage? What are you hinting at?

Hmmm…Forget it. Tell me, if thought could speak what would it say?

Well…Can you give me five minutes of silence? I will contemplate and get back to you.

Yes, sure. Take your time. We have all the time in the Universe.

And so five minutes of silence followed. He then spoke…

I am thought. Pervading out of physical, spatial, temporal and chronological barriers, I am thought. Pure thought. I don’t reside in human bodies; I cannot be closed inside heads. My extents are inexplicable, my actions-inimitable. No power can inhibit my presence; I have always been and always will be...

You drench in me and discover. My every miniscule gives you joy. I offered you the universe, I offered you the dimensions. You comprehend when I ingress you. Darkness furrows you in my absence. I am why you live-I am thought-pure thought.

I break the barriers of conservation-I am creativity. I am intelligence. The genesis of your every idea is with me. I play. I trick-you fall. I confuse-you confess. I teach-I make you learn. What you learn are my seeds. I am thought-pure thought.

I am your senses, I am your world. What you know, what you think you know, what you call reality-is me. The blue hues of sapphire, the scarlet tinges of sunset, the fragrance of the feminine, the incense of the divinity, the taste of elixir, the touch of muslin-is me. I am your emotions. The love of your heart, the enmity at the core, your happiness, your remorse, your wrath, your lust-is me. You feel what I make you to. I am thought-pure thought.

What is reality? It is what I trick you to believe. What is reality? ME. I am real and the rest are my manifestations. Your concepts, your ideas, your senses, your emotions, your life, and your universe-all my creation. What is reality? ME. I am the only reality of the universe. I am thought-pure thought.

Well…I enjoyed it thoroughly. Very powerful statements you made.

Thanks. Now tell me what the mind is and how it functions. I’ll give you five minutes too…

And so another five minutes of silence ensued. Then, the other person spoke…

Says the mighty mind…

There is no I. We are there.
We are a gang of disparate yet limitless consciousnesses coexisting in the confines of a limited temporal physical body, constantly and passionately involved in debate.

There are but geniuses - artists of all flavors... writers, fighters and wildlife photographers. Spiritual thinkers and vulpine womanizers. All amongst us, all locked up in the confining space of his body.
And we all crave for that SINGULAR moment when we win.When we own.And then the whole wide world is open. We see through his eyes, we smell through his nose. We hear through his ears, we taste through his tongue. We touch.

We Transcend.

And so you see him see, smell,hear,taste and touch the world around him...but its one of us.

And yet, claims the superconsciousness of the Ego...

THE VICTORY IS WHEN YOU KILL 'EM ALL

That was very thought provoking. Thank you very much.

Do you really feel that our senses give us the right image of the world around us?

Our whole world, us, the people around us, the objects, everything could just be the fake inputs of our senses. The instance of an external intelligence that of another human surrounding us, could still only be a trick of the inputs. It is possible that your execution centre and its funny input sources can be the only reality of the universe. This conversation that I am having with you could just be an input your ears and your eyes are giving you, as if I am sitting in front of you and speaking to you, it could all be false. It could all be a trick…imagine…Now you can claim that you LEARNT many facts today and that you didn’t know them before and hence it could not be a false input and that I do exist. What if?
What if I say that you already knew everything that there is to ever know and you realize that you know everything slowly as the false inputs of a WORLD around you, full of other people and that you have a body yourself and that you are one among them and that you live in this Universe. The death of an external human being only implies the termination of input data from that source or regarding that source. It does not mean your end. You are the only reality of the universe, you are your execution centre… think about it… The learned never teaches…the learned only knows that he knows.

Hmmm… but can you tell me what “time” really means?

For this I won’t require time.

The word “change” owes everything to time. Time is THE only means of accomplishing change in the universe.

Is time like a river that flows? What do we mean by the movement of time?

The whole of realizable Universe can be described successfully by the concept of “events”. Like a series of pictures that stand in a line, we tend to associate an incrementing real number to every frame (event) arbitrarily. And with this notion originates the concept of “before” and “after”. By convention, the “after” event has a higher time value than the “before” event. We have been used to measuring this time with the aid of a singular repeatable event, like say, the tick of a clock. Every time the clock moves, we increment our arbitrary measure of the flow of time by one. It all seems troublesome because we have life, we are alive, intelligent and inside the picture.

So what was it again about the actors and the play?

They looked at each other for some time, laughed out loud, got up and went for tea.

2006-10-01T17:35:00.000-07:00

TIME- A CONVERSATION

(The following can be read as an entertaining conversation between an amateur physicist and his friend. Please note that the statements made here need not be true as the physicist himself is an amateur and these need to be understood as his own ideas.*)

We were in a playground. My friend had a stone in his hand. He said he could throw it up at an angle of 60^o to the ground with a velocity of 10ms^-1. After a few calculations I told him that the stone would rise to about 3.823 m above ground and would take 1.766 seconds to come back to ground traveling 8.828 m horizontally.

After sometime I asked him, “Was I predicting future?”

And hence started the dialogue…

What is time?
The word “change” owes everything to time. Time is THE only means of accomplishing change in the universe.

Is time like a river that flows? What do we mean by the movement of time?

The whole of realizable Universe can be described successfully by the concept of “events”. Like a series of pictures that stand in a line, we tend to associate an incrementing real number to every frame (event) arbitrarily. And with this notion originates the concept of “before” and “after”. By convention, the “after” event has a higher time value than the “before” event. We have been used to measuring this time with the aid of a singular repeatable event, like say, the tick of a clock. Every time the clock moves, we increment our arbitrary measure of the flow of time by one. (I was beginning to have a smile on my face as I was dragging him into difficult times. He was now searching for tougher questions for me.) It all seems troublesome because we have life, we are alive, intelligent and inside the picture.

What do you mean? Me, my home, my life, my continuous life…how can you say that they come in bits and pieces? I see it as a continuous flow.

Though it sounds that time has to be, in principle, continuous, at the quantum level, time has a resolution. We cannot describe events beyond a particular interval of time. Nature is a careful genius. It shows, but it doesn’t show all. Rather, it could be its own flaw that it can’t show to its own creation. (I was bringing in philosophy to please him)

Why should time move? Why not remain static?

Now that we have our Universe, by default it will try to “STABILIZE” itself. Note that the word stabilize here is very vague and needs further description. Let us define an abstract quantity X which needs to be stabilized. I am very careful here by not defining the quantity X mathematically and by not mentioning what the operation “stabilization” is. It could be maximization of X, minimization of X, integration of X, etc.

I can only say… U = STABILIZE (X) .

Now, U requires time; this is because, we need to alter X to alter U. We need to change X until U reaches the value of STABILIZE (X). We need to approach that value. By default, there will be a flow, a flow in the right direction, a correct method that will happen which will ensure that (U - STABILIZE (X)) is tending to 0. Many physicists believe that X is entropy of the universe and that STABILIZE is the maximization function. The entropy of the universe keeps on increasing. Time now gets a direction. The “arrow of time”, as Stephen Hawking puts it, travels in the direction of increasing entropy. Time WILL stop (to please you) when the entropy of the universe reaches a maximum and there cannot be any increment whatsoever possible. The requirement of a moving time will be over then.

I disagree. You are only using vague mathematics to fool me. You are not even defining your variables and functions accurately. Your analysis lacks mathematical rigor.

My friend, I have always used the example of the potter and the sheet metal worker to describe math. The potter makes a pot. The metal worker makes a sheet to cover the pot. The potter makes a more complicated shape. The worker sweats even more, and with much effort manages to cover up the surface of the pot with the sheet. THE METAL WORKER SHIELDS THE SURFACE OF THE POT METICULOUSLY WITH HIS SHEETS. The mathematician describes the universe with his math. (I was now feeling victorious having downsized the mathematician.) Do you think that all atoms of a radioactively decaying metal sit together and then calculate the exponential variation and then say to each other, now, two of you decay, now ,three of you decay? Do you think that the earth, owing some credit to the dear mathematician, calculate its path and deliberately travel in an ellipse? Do you think the Universe functions the way the mathematician says? In fact, it’s the other way…Says nature to the math man…with your inefficient tools you try to describe me. The metal worker tries to cover the pot…

Don’t confuse me with what math is. Tell me if our destiny is already determined.

We don’t realize that most of the equations we know in physics require time though they don’t incorporate it explicitly. For example, the famous Newtonian gravitation equation does not have time in it. This doesn’t mean that gravitation is independent of time. Gravitational effect is not felt instantly infinitely all over the space. The effect requires time to propagate through space. Hence, all the things that can happen in that time need to be taken into account in order to completely describe the equation. We need to take care of every possible variation. Imagine, the time taken for a drop of water falling down in a busy street. The breathing patterns of all the people in the surrounding alter the velocity and acceleration of the drop, the humidity in the atmosphere, the air friction, the air velocity, the air composition, the tsunami hitting the coasts of Chennai, the desert storms of Dubai, the possibility of someone destroying the drop in between, so many so many things can change it. If you could determine the behavior of every single human being, if you could tell why a particular person did not breathe at a particular instant but did at the other, if you could, in principle determine every variable, which are definitely infinite in number, you could have a deterministic evaluation of the time. You could then, be predicting future. If the inefficient sheet metal worker succeeds to stop approximating and learns to completely cover the pot avoiding the conventional methods and approximations, if he can REALIZE the cover rather than practically and unsuccessfully try and cover it, then, the Universe can be completely described. If mathematics can completely model deterministically, the human behavior and every other thing that can ever happen, then it can be possible to describe the future. The number of variables involved, the level of complexity involved, the amount of effort required to realize it all is so exceedingly high that it is better, as earthly mortals, to understand the future as a completely unpredictable, unknown territory and only expect the best as U approaches STABILIZE (X) .

We have established the probability theory and the chaos theory very well I suppose…

Comfort from the lack of knowledge? Measure of ignorance? What is the name of your theory, Mr. Mathematician?

I am totally lost. Where do we stand, as humans?

Now that is a good question. We have to orient our discussion towards the next interesting topic…reality. What is reality? (I somehow loved the way I asked this question). The persistence of an object in time… is it a way to identify REAL objects? The fact that if an object ACTUALLY existed there or not “AT THAT PARTICULAR INSTANCE OF TIME”. Now, time is not absolute, unfortunately, as the Special theory of Relativity puts it and this destroys the very concept REALITY. The next thing to realize is that the entire math, all the science, all the understanding of the Universe is happening in our brains. The fact if the drop is actually falling in the street can only reach the thought execution centre (brain, for short) through the limited input of our senses. The execution centre resides closed inside petite boxes called “self” or “individual” or “human being”. All our conception that we live, we have a home, we have a life, we live in a galaxy called the Milky Way can all be false data fed into the execution centre by the inputs (for fun, or for some unknown purpose). We can only say if a box present in front of us is ACTUALLY there or not only if we could come out of our self, take in an input other than the senses of vision, sound, taste, touch and smell and then analyze. If we could confirm if the way we receive information into the execution centre is the way it actually is, then that actuality can be the reality. The car analogy works pretty well in this context. The life we lead is rather like traveling in a car. We maneuver the car (we move in the world) and we see through the windshields (we see with our eyes) , etc. We can only tell about the road we are traveling on by looking through the glass, our input is limited to the input of the car. If we could step out and SEE…

Think about this…

What if I say that you already knew everything that there is to ever know and you realize that you know everything slowly as the false inputs of a WORLD around you, full of other people and that you have a body yourself and that you are one among them and that you live in this Universe. The death of an external human being only implies the termination of input data from that source or regarding that source. It does not mean your end. You are the only reality of the universe, you are your execution centre… think about it… (He had enough). The learned never teaches…the learned only knows that he knows.

* Note that this is a very clever way that the author uses to establish his ideas and at the same time run away without claiming responsibilities in case any data is erroneous.

2006-09-23T00:18:00.000-07:00

I am not going to tell you what I know.
But if you ask me, I will tell you.

2006-09-20T23:33:00.000-07:00

Awlrawk's Footnotes

coming soon...

to a blog near urs...

2006-09-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

The object of desire

Pink. Pink is the color of desire, of lust, a craving... an obsession. A wanting. As you close your eyes and meditate on it, there is a small burning sensation in the stomach, not pain, but a desire, a wanting. The mere imagination of possession brings satisfaction, happiness- weightlessness.
A sweet fragrance. The aroma travels right inside and works its magic. The taste must have been sweet, the sweetest sweet. The sight was obsessive. Streams of pink were flowing, pure pink- it was the highest degree of craving, an addiction. The nerves were pulling. The limbs became weak. It was difficult to stand. There was a strange sensation all over the body. Down the throat traveled the fragrance and the taste.
Next came blue. Brightest blue. Illuminated blue. Strange bright blue. Hypnotic light it brought. It traveled up the brain, spread all over the head and left me numb. There was absolute silence all over. All the commotion, all the clatter, all the violence, all the disappointment, all the sadness was answered for.
And then the fingers went cold. Memories were haunting. Memories of possession. The object of desire. All the golden moments shared, it was obsessive. I craved for it, I couldn’t live without it. There was great discomfort without it, restlessness, the heart was pulling. Right from the centre, the core, the hub, there was something that was coming out. An obsession, a wanting, a craving.
Experiencing it with closed eyes, waves of pleasure traveled right out of the body, great pleasure, and immense pleasure. I went out of consciousness. I dreamt. I was flying across the blackest black backdrop. And then I saw the colors. All the bright colors, the sweet sounds, and the taste- unforgettable. The experience was inexplicable. I was in paradise.
I could see the four walls when I opened my eyes, I could see the forest, the green forest, the paradise when I closed my eyes. I was lying down on solid ground and then it became liquid. I was slowly sinking down this thick viscous liquid. I went deeper and deeper still. I closed my eyes and remained. It was not fast, it was not disturbing, and there was no hurry. Slowly we went, gently. It was greatly comforting. I was forgetting. I was forgetting all the sadness, all the disappointment, all those failures, all the problems. I was slowly sinking in the sea, the thick sea. The liquid flowed gently over me. I lost sight. It was all dark. The aura was no more. Next I lost the smell, the aroma was no more. Next I lost my ears. I could not hear the liquid flow over me. I must have lost taste. Then I lost the sense of touch. No more feel of the sea. It was all silent. No motion, no commotion. It was all over. Just thoughts remained- thoughts of satisfaction, of happiness, of contentment. The object of desire. The idea of possessing it. The obsession it brought- the craving. It was all over.

2006-09-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

It was the water and the splashing waves that I looked upto most rather than her. Waves formed, traveled, dashed and roared all at once. The wind blew like I was in a wind tunnel. And then, she came.

With a smile she sat next to me. We sat silently on that raised wooden platform that encroached into the waves' property. We sat on the edge and our legs from knees to heals lay hanging in the air-inviting the waves. Wind blew continuously.

"I have been thinking about you for the past few days".
I wondered how it was the Moon's gravity that actually caused the waves. I reminded myself that I had to learn to surf sometime soon. I also remembered that there was a Surfer's Journal.
And then I realized that there was someone next to me trying to talk. I looked at her and smiled.

"You are very likeable".
I smiled again, this time looking into the sea. I wondered where I could end up if I dived straight down and swam in a straight line till I found land. I figured I could miss the Andamans and end up in Indonesia or some place near that. From my knowledge in geography and cartography i pictured that at one particular angle i could even miss Indonesia and end up in Australia or better still- Antarctica!

"But I don't know if I really love you or not yaar".
I noticed subtle folds on her forehead. They were the symbols of deep thought and worry. Her eyes were deep and a small shade of sadness was evident. But it didn't sound like real worry. My thoughts now focussed on the relationship between thoughts and forehead folds. The mind does silly things. People put their tongues out while pouring water into a glass. People bite nails, people pop knuckles. The mind is really not as efficient as it should have been. Nevertheless, it manages to work. It could seriously consider some improvization now. It was about time. Our computer technologies and cell phone models evolve so fast they should put the mind to shame. They do evolve out of the mind though.

"I think any girl will like you yaar. You are very good. Any girl will fall in love with you also".
I smiled. A huge ship was sailing in the distance. I admired man for having managed to float such a massive object. I admired space for having managed to contain the Earth and everything for so many years now. I tried to picture how far 2 million light years actually was. That was how far Andromeda Galaxy was from us. It was our immediate neighbour. I kind of liked it when i saw its pictures a few times.

"But i don't think she can feel so for long. Anyone who falls in love with you will come out of it soon".
The breeze was carrying away her words but i managed to make out the statement. Sound was really just a longitudinal wave propagating in the air with compressions and rarefactions. It was a pity that it required a medium for travel. It meant that evolution didn't consider man making it to space. Evolution was either conservative or underestimated us.

"I don't know yaar. I just need more time, please".
I heard the word time somewhere. That word always took me deep into thoughts. I thought time was the only means of establishing any sort of change in the Universe. Someone told me that time was the means that carried information continuously. I always questioned the requirement of time.

2006-09-13T18:07:00.000-07:00

Lehangooga and I : The reality

1)Who/what is Lehangooga?
2)How is the above question related to the ultimate question?

Let's make an honest attempt to answer these two very important and fundamental questions.
Shall we start first from the ultimate question?Well, the ultimate question has always been simple... "What is all this?"

All the philosophers over the past thousands of years who have landed on this crazy planet in the sub-urbs of our Average Joe galaxy have tried to answer this simple question.

What the heck is all this?

There seems to be some hidden deliberateness in why we don't generally ask this question. It is as though we are being cheated. We were programmed to "generally" not ask such things. Then why do a strange few spend their whole lifetimes searching the answer?

After getting so fine-tuned to getting up in the morning, having a cup of coffee and heading to the office , why should one ask the question? Well, the ones who actually search the answer will ask you back-First of all, why are you getting up every morning and rushing to your office?
YOU are leading your life, YOU are going to your office, YOU are working. Well, what the heck is all this? Why is all this happening?What am I? Why can I think?

A group of people were thrown onto an island. There were a lot of pebbles and lots of paper cups in the island. Soon, people got used to the island by putting the pebbles in the cups and then throwing them back and picking up another pebble and so on. A strange few however, reclined themselves to finding out where was it that they were thrown. When these people asked the rest of them why they were playing with the cups, they found it to be a strange thing to ask. Are you crazy? What do you mean why? This is me, this is what I do, this is how I live. I put pebbles in papercups. They also shot them with a barrage of other questions like- why are you not putting pebbles in papercups? How do you think you can live by not putting pebbles in papercups? why do you search for the answers for questions which cant be answered?And so on...

2006-09-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

Lehangooga and I : The Story

If I would ever get stranded on some desolate island in the remotest corner of the world with only one companion offered, then it would most certainly be her. For I would be complete with her, even without my Raymond's suit. If one could, with craftsman like precision, cut out everything from my life except her and do the same to her too, neither of us would miss a thing, for we formed a system, a closed system. The jargon in which we spoke, our gestures, our system of nomenclature, and our humor, all made people wonder if we inadvertently crash-landed onto this planet from deep space. Some others wondered if we were furtively connected with mysterious invisible cables. While in a group, I would suddenly make a statement completely out of context, which would be more like a radio signal I was flashing in the air, and she would be the only one who would receive the modulated signal at my frequency. She would then reciprocate with a gesture or statement of recognition and that reaffirmed our stand. So, the fact of the matter being that I loved her company and she loved mine, I contemplated on why it was so. The result of that contemplation is this document.
If I ever felt like a magician, a black magician to be precise, it was when she was around. Often times I was able to carve out future like a meticulous sculptor, the way I wanted it. Wanting her company, I would camp at a convenient location, not for long though, it would be a transient wait. For, she would come. Just ten meters straight now and then a turn to the left. Another ten meters straight and I am waiting for you. These would be my telepathic instructions, and she would come. She would walk at a brisk pace, which would slowly become a leisure stroll as she approached me. Simultaneously, a smile would start to germinate on her face, a smile, which would culminate in my presence. Was she shy or was it a shade of guilt? Probably it was a last minute beautification. She would stand bravely in front of me, her hands over her hips and her head slightly tilted to the right and she would then ask if we could go for coffee. I always wondered whose line it was. I thoroughly enjoyed walking with her to the cafe. She would walk pushing along her bicycle and I walked freely. Sometimes, I pushed her bicycle for her. We were the world.
If, for some unknown reason, my sense of smell were to be removed forever and if I had one last opportunity to smell, then it would surely be her. The sense of smell is supposed to be closely connected to the memory part of brain, which is why familiar smells so often remind us of memories of places or things or incidents. She smelled like happiness. She smelled like perfect satisfaction. When with her, I made it a point to stay close to her and smell her often, for those were the elysian moments. It was not the perfume, it was her. She smelled divine. I also, for another unknown reason, made it a point that I never told her how good she smelled. Perhaps it wasn't a very good thing to say to a girl that she "smelled" great. What complemented the smell was, without doubt, the voice. It wasn't a perfect voice at all. The beauty of her voice came encrypted in that imperfection. It was there to notice, if you cared enough. And surely enough, I did care. The voice used to reverberate inside my head for hours together after a meet and I could not think or do anything during that interval of time. Yet, it wasn't an inconvenience, it was a pleasure. There was a subtle stress in the way she uttered every word. A tinge of worry accompanied it and it created loads of sympathy and shades of liking deep in the heart. She was magical. She was mysterious.
If I were ever allowed to freeze time forever, I would freeze that moment in the library when I held her hand in mine. She was comfortable with me. She trusted me. She would allow me to touch her. I remember how, at the library, she gave me her hand for examination. And I held it in both my hands, for it was a precious thing to hold. It was intimate. It was warm. We were close to each other, physically and mentally. And I examined her hand closely. People tend to have curvy semi-circle like white markings at the start of their nails. She didn't have them. Also, the skin below her nails was pale. Very pale. I told her that it was unusually pale and I took her hand even closer. And she watched me closely, with her chin resting on her hand and her hand resting on the table, while I held her other hand, right next to her, close to my face. I placed her hand above my right hand and with my left hand, I continued my examination. I went finger by finger, pressing each finger at the joints and then pressing them near the nails. Her fingers were soft. They were like wheat dough or fresh bread. For every press, I felt strangely ecstatic waves pass all over my body. That was when I regretted the fact that humans had only five fingers. All this while, I had the pleasures of the smell adding to it. If this would last for a hundred million years, and hundred million more, I would still not be tired of it. Yet, it was I who gave her back her hand and ended it. Probably she felt all those sensations too. Probably she wanted more too. Yet, I cherish them today because they ended soon and hence form a golden memory. Probably she cherishes those memories too.
If I were to describe her on a small piece of paper, the text on that paper would be something similar to the text that follows. In the glow of the dark while the gentle night breeze carries her lingering perfumes to me, and drenches me in her aura, and while she looks into my eyes with an innocent smile, I take her into my arms with a warm hug and make her sense the comfort of staying with me. I show her orion and Taurus and those deep sky objects. As she gently falls asleep in my arms, I caress her gentle soft cheeks, which are absolutely smooth, like the sand dunes of a hot desert. I am greatly satisfied when she is in my presence. The sheer flow of emotions as I look at her face has shaken me for eternity. I remember those magical moments when I inserted a strange sense of wonder telling her tales of the outer worlds and the remote sense of fear in her face instantly turning into a golden sense of comfort as she held my arms and put her face into me. It is miraculous how close we got to each other. The gentle laughter she produces and the sound it produces is rather like the flow of a river stream amongst those grey rocks. And her smiles are carried to me by those gentle winds. As the full moon glows, so does her face and perhaps I could keep looking into her the whole night without the very concept of sleep. She is perfect. She is pure. The sweet scent which I can smell when I am close to her face tends to make me insane with ecstasy. I would like to do that a million times and still want to do that. Truly spectacular it was as we spent magical hours by the seaside without speaking a word. Mere presence gave us the joy of life. Oh! How I thank God for having given me his best gift.
If you asked me about the most confusing day of my life, i would tell you about that day. She had her bicycle and i was walking. She started riding it ans asked me to sit at the back. Now how would you handle the situation of being asked to sit at the back of a girl's bicycle on a hot sunny afternoon in a certain south Indian city? You can, for once, handle the situation by accepting the invitation. Yes, that is what i did too, though after a long session of my hesitation and her persuation. And so when i rebooted my consciousness that fine afternoon, i found myself hanging on to one end of a girls' bicycle with this girl in the driver's seat. She was , for some unknown reason , particualrly fresh and happy that day. It was sort of uncomfortable, i must admit. I did mention it to her that it sounded like female exploitation on my part. She was somehow keen on having me at the back of her bicycle. And then started the events. She saw that i was not comfortable and asked me to hold the seat. Now, since she is already sitting on it, you know what happens next when i place my hands there! And exactly at that moment it started raining. Well, what do you know, she had an umbrella. She asked me to open it and hold it for her. When i held it, she complained that i did not cover and asked me to move closer and hold it over her shoulder. And i held it on her shoulders as it rained. We were again close, the moment was intimate. I wanted to speak out and tell it all to her. Then something happened to her and she lost control. She rid onto the mud nearby and lost control. To avoid the cycle falling on me and i falling over her, i got off. We both were speechless. We were close. I looked at her. She possessed me at that moment. I belonged to her and she belonged to me. This was my moment. Now i had to speak out. And then came Lehangooga. He took her hand, made her sit behind him in his bicycle and rode away to the horizon.
If there was one place i wished to go to, it was the horizon.

2006-06-18T12:54:00.000-07:00

Lehangooga and I: The Poem

Lehangooga and I.
We were happy.
We gelled.
We were always together.
We did everything together.
Lehangooga and I.

2006-02-26T12:27:00.000-08:00

I am Thought

I am thought. Pervading out of physical, spatial, temporal and chronological barriers, I am thought. Pure thought. I don’t reside in human bodies; I cannot be closed inside heads. My extents are inexplicable, my actions-inimitable. No power can inhibit my presence; I have always been and always will be...
You drench in me and discover. My every miniscule gives you joy. I offered you the universe, I offered you the dimensions. You comprehend when I ingress you. Darkness furrows you in my absence. I am why you live-I am thought-pure thought.
I break the barriers of conservation-I am creativity. I am intelligence. The genesis of your every idea is with me. I play. I trick-you fall. I confuse-you confess. I teach-I make you learn. What you learn are my seeds. I am thought-pure thought.
I am your senses, I am your world. What you know, what you think you know, what you call reality-is me. The blue hues of sapphire, the scarlet tinges of sunset, the fragrance of the feminine, the incense of the divinity, the taste of elixir, the touch of muslin-is me. I am your emotions. The love of your heart, the enmity at the core, your happiness, your remorse, your wrath, your lust-is me. You feel what I make you to. I am thought-pure thought.
What is reality? It is what I trick you to believe. What is reality? ME. I am real and the rest are my manifestations. Your concepts, your ideas, your senses, your emotions, your life, and your universe-all my creation. What is reality? ME. I am the only reality of the universe. I am thought-pure thought.

2005-10-01T09:06:00.000-07:00

Finally, blogging and me are one single phenomenon. I will blog here to slowly let out the vast interiors of this strange mind. Let me begin by that singular concept that struck me hard in my adoloscence . That was when i was completely unaware of the concept of the Universities, the Great studies, the Internet, the Journals, and all the literature to publish and patents to protect. I only knew about my theories. I was not informed as to how Newton or Einstein were famous but they were famous and that was it. And as i struggled, these were my observations...

How I struggle to understand and document this world of ours. Is it not strange that whatever I try to document or observe or infer is already a work of a great man somewhere who did some work eons ago and was lost in the sands of time? Whatever I try to do, to understand the world we live in, to confirm what REALITY really is, has already been done before. They have written books, papers and volumes of literature. They have coined wonderful technical terms for them already. And as I slowly unearth what I can, they laugh at me and say, well this has been thoroughly researched, lad. Try something new, something creative. They thought about all this while, say, having coffee or something on a lazy evening. So it seems.

Strange that we always live in NOW, the latest time that can possible be. The last possible time that has occurred till now is NOW. And now has piles of work above you, all the thousands of years on it waiting just for you. You do something and they come out shouting, this has already been done. Now has this huge WALL of history and any thing you do has to be an addition to this wall and any addition has to be made to the top of the wall only. So, firstly you should reach the top of the wall and then make something new over there. SIMPLE. And your “eureka” moment, when you make that giant leap to reach out to the top with a brilliant idea is only an insignificant and inefficient attainment of altitude, merely negligible, unimportant and unnecessary.

A big breakthrough is almost impossible, they say.