Everyday we learn something new

Question: When in a relationship is it right to say this to a girl?

I am an addict. I get an intellectual boner everytime someone challenges me with an insightful argument or a troubling paradox and the perverse pleasure I derive from finding an answer is truly orgasmic (and to extend the sex-talk, while the answer is the pinnacle of pleasure, I wouldn't trade it for the act of searching).

Answer: Never. Apparently.

Desert Palms

I know you were never mine to begin with. Not that you are something to possess. (Maybe that was the problem). Anyway, I know you weren't mine (and I yours). Yet, I feel like I am losing you. Water running through my fingers.

Perhaps, if you were beyond becoming another's, above all possessing, an ideal that one only aspired to reach (as I thought you were), then my self-esteem wouldn't have taken such a hit.

Drip. Drip.

Desert Palms.

Dry Arid Lifeless.

I sat and I thought what has already been thought

How do I know anything? Can anything be known?

I take it as a given that I exist. That is my starting point. The world exists in relation to my own existence. That is the world is what I see and percieve it as. It follows then, that without sensory information there is no world. Having defined my existence and its relation to the existence of the world - without me there is no world, I proceed to question the existence of God. Since my primary assertion is of my own existence, nothing exists before me and nothing exists after me. And god if he does exists, then exists outside my own existence since he is supposed to be always there.

If, on the other hand, we question our very existence, and proceed to say that questions need not make sense or have answers, we are basically saying that nothing can be said with any certainty and this does not lead to a better understanding of anything. Basically it is not saying that nothing matters (meaning is what we ascribe, so things need not matter), which is an acceptable position to take, but that nothing exists.

What is the proof that I am not living in the Matrix?

Stance

I have given it a thought and this is where I stand on the following issues.

I
support gay marriages
oppose the death sentence
believe abortion is a personal choice
disagree with the notion that economic inequality is a necessary evil
consider the separation of religion and state vitally important
denounce war
believe climate change is real as is evolution
reject the relation between truthfulness of an idea and the desirability of said idea
embrace the idea that it is better to have one's eyes open to the squalor around than to close one's mind and live in the Matrix
and
I definitely definitely love Jon Stewart's Daily show.

What does that make me?

Am I right or am I right?

Can a wrong right a wrong?

To Care or not to

For someone who doesn't care, I care way too much.

Schrodinger's cat

Open the box.
Let's see if the cat is alive.
If he is,
let us beat him to death.
You and I.

Knowing

I know. I know that I shall never again meet anything or anybody who will inspire me with passion. You know, it's quite a job starting to love somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment, in the very beginning, when you have to jump across a precipice: if you think about it you don't do it. I know I'll never jump again...

....
But I probably will.

Is that resilience? Or plain stupidity?

Naked silence

Enemy

Fear is not my worst enemy; hope is.

Theory of plasticity

Plastic plants make me sad
I wonder why
I sit and I ponder
I wonder because what else is there to do

The reason, I think, is constancy
It's life is bare, devoid of change
Maybe.
Or maybe it is choice that it lacks.

Maybe it is because it cannot
soak in the sun, or shiver
in the cold dewy winter mornings
Or wither and die

Something about its choicelessness
tingles my melancholic bone. Maybe.
But then, rain makes me happy and
has it any choice about its falling.

Have I written this one before?

I seem to be in a lot of déjà vu moments
Think there may be something wrong with the Matrix.

Godard-speak

When we talked,
...........................I talked about me,
.........................................................you talked about you,
..............................................................................................when
we should have talked about
...........................................each other.

Everything and Nothing

There was no one in him; behind his face (which even through the bad paintings of those times resembles no other) and his words, which were copious, fantastic and stormy, there was only a bit of coldness, a dream dreamt by no one. At first he thought that all people were like him, but the astonishment of a friend to whom he had begun to speak of this emptiness showed him his error and made him feel always that an individual should not differ in outward appearance. Once he thought that in books he would find a cure for his ill and thus he learned the small Latin and less Greek a contemporary would speak of; later he considered that what he sought might well be found in an elemental rite of humanity, and let himself be initiated by Anne Hathaway one long June afternoon. At the age of twenty-odd years he went to London. Instinctively he had already become proficient in the habit of simulating that he was someone, so that others would not discover his condition as no one; in London he found the profession to which he was predestined, that of the actor, who on a stage plays at being another before a gathering of people who play at taking him for that other person. His histrionic tasks brought him a singular satisfaction, perhaps the first he had ever known; but once the last verse had been acclaimed and the last dead man withdrawn from the stage, the hated flavor of unreality returned to him. He ceased to be Ferrex or Tamerlane and became no one again. Thus hounded, he took to imagining other heroes and other tragic fables. And so, while his flesh fulfilled its destiny as flesh in the taverns and brothels of London, the soul that inhabited him was Caesar, who disregards the augur's admonition, and Juliet, who abhors the lark, and Macbeth, who converses on the plain with the witches who are also Fates. No one has ever been so many men as this man, who like the Egyptian Proteus could exhaust all the guises of reality. At times he would leave a confession hidden away in some corner of his work, certain that it would not be deciphered; Richard affirms that in his person he plays the part of many and Iago claims with curious words "I am not what I am." The fundamental identity of existing, dreaming and acting inspired famous passages of his.

For twenty years he persisted in that controlled hallucination, but one morning he was suddenly gripped by the tedium and the terror of being so many kings who die by the sword and so many suffering lovers who converge, diverge and melodiously expire. That very day he arranged to sell his theater. Within a week he had returned to his native village, where he recovered the trees and rivers of his childhood and did not relate them to the others his muse had celebrated, illustrious with mythological allusions and Latin terms. He had to be someone; he was a retired impresario who had made his fortune and concerned himself with loans, lawsuits and petty usury. It was in this character that he dictated the arid will and testament known to us, from which he deliberately excluded all traces of pathos or literature. His friends from London would visit his retreat and for them he would take up again his role as poet.

History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of God and told Him: "I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and myself." The voice of the Lord answered from a whirlwind: "Neither am I anyone; I have dreamt the world as you dreamt your work, my Shakespeare, and among the forms in my dream are you, who like myself are many and no one."


-from Jorge Luis Borges' Labyrinths

What's cooking?

It is always an enriching experience seeing an Engineer cook. What makes one an Engineer is a different thing. Not everyone with a piece of paper that says they graduated with a Bachelors in Engineering qualifies to be called an Engineer. They are atmost engineers. Well! I am talking of this breed of 'engineer superiori' a.k.a. Engineers whose lives and the air they breathe reek of engineering. I have the misfortune of having surrounded my life with engineers and Engineers (and very few of the other endangered species).

I meant to talk of an enriching experience, so forgive me my circumlocution. It all began when I was at this friend's place, and believe me when I say he is a rank exhibit of Engineers. With a capital E.

My friend offered to cook for me to showcase his cooking skills. Apparently, he wanted to convince me that he was ready to get married. I usually enjoy cooking and would have offered to help but seeing how much it meant to him, I let him cook and satisfied myself with the role of the observer.

What struck me the most immediately was the preciseness of his cooking. If the recommended ratio of rice and water was 1:2, it was "1:2". Water was measured to an accuracy of plus/minus 5ml. Allowances would have been given to the hardness or softness of the water but for want of reliable data about the variation of quantity of water to the hardness of water (imagine an excel chart with hardness on the x-axis and quantity of water on y-axis with coloured dots throughout). It was better to be on the conservative side and use the standard specifications. 'City of cooking' might be used as a proxy for the hardness value but day-to-day variation of water quality were unaccounted for.

Another important factor affecting the ratio is the quality of rice. Recent literature survey points out, there is a dearth of measures, qualitative or quantitative for the quality of rice as related to water required to cook it. Region-specific and brand-specific measures are at best ad-hoc alternates. At this point, no other factors were known to affect the ratio in a significant manner. These are ascribed for future research work.

Next, he was emboldened by the unqualified success of the 'Rice experiments' to try out a Gulab Jamun mix. And I think it was around this time that it stopped being funny and became sad.

The readiness of sugar syrup was measured by the viscosity of the aforementioned syrup. Loose definitions of "as thick as oil" are severely frowned upon. There are oils belonging to a wide spectrum of viscosities and the precise nature of the oil is paramount to preparing required consistency. Cook for five minutes meant... wait for it... yeah! you guessed it right, cook for 300 seconds. When time reached 290, his hand was in position, on the knob to avoid any time lag. Similarly instructions on the packet require that the dough be fried at 165 degrees. Since there were no reliable temperature measuring devices in the kitchen (since, after about 80 degrees, hand was not a reliable device and returned only a totally inadequate "unbearably hot" response), a small quanity of dough was dropped into the frying pan. If it became golden brown, it meant that the oil was ready. However, maintaining the heat at this precise temperature poses a problem. Keeping the stove ON would, obviously increase the temperature but it is believed that the loss function due to the transfer of energy to the dough would compensate for it. The exact setting of the stove knob has to be determined empirically, depending on the diameter of the dough balls and the number of balls simultaneously fried.

At the end of the day however, I have to admit, the food was delicious.

To all Engineers... you make life livable.

Death is the road to awe...bah!

I am a new man today. I died yesterday. Or is it more appropriate to say that I was killed. The knife went right through me. She was gentle. I felt no pain. I am a new man today. Death as an act of creation. I dodder towards tomorrow. I am fine but for the dead man on my shoulder. Rigor mortis has set and his vice like grip on my neck is getting oppressive. I am fine. Really.

New look

I am Alone under the Starry Night, old and decrepit. Must learn to play the guitar. Then I can be an Old man playing the guitar, alone under the starry night.

Philosophy of End

All good things come to an end
All bad things come to an end
All things come to an end.

Statutory Warning

Nobody is allowed to pity me but myself

Void Love

There are unspeakably many voids that I have not meditated upon. What does this mean? What would we do? How does it change everything? Are we ready? Will we ever be? The emptiness is of no consequence. Several things have not been thought about, several things are not known. For what can knowledge achieve but label, define, theorize and describe. Immersed in this regression, apparently not that uncommon among Homo sapiens, I unbuild everything that I painstakingly built. I imagine and I fear. I imagine and I fear. Can all my life amount to nothing? Had it come from nothing? Many nothings that can stand atop the head of a pin. I wonder. I wonder because I see nothing but the here and the now. No past nor future exists. Just me, you and that which I feel. This pain where my heart once was.

It did not seem wrong or even insidious. But how would I know. It was never thought of. It just is.

Love.

p.s. Many words in this aren't mine. I found them here and there and strung them together. But the emotion is mine. Only the emotion is.

Quick Tale: Multiverse

She and I lived in separate universes now. She was blissfully married and I was happily single (or was it the other way around). Our universes grew apart after the Big Bang of her marriage. We were kind of an item until then. And we hadn't met since. We were continents apart too and there just wasn't a chance. I have slept several nights wondering how it would be when we met next (nights were when the two universes seemed closest). How and when. I didn't have long, cosmically speaking, to find out.

She is in my arms and I love the way her head fits into my chest. Her ears concentrate on the sound of my heart like a caveman would listen to the ground for approaching danger. Love Love. Love Love.

They belong together, these disparate universes. Surely their separateness is an illusion. They stare at voids where eyes should be and turn away for good measure. We share an awkward smile that reads unstated understanding. We belong together and yet we touch each other and walk to our own quantum universes. It cannot be. The laws of physics cannot take it. Will not allow it. No. Certainly not. That will be the end of everything. We belong together, in our parallel universes.

S' mobile

My battery got fucked
The sex, apparently was electrifying.

Barathi

"Paartha idathil ellam unnai polave paavai theriyadhu dhi"
I hate Barathi for writing that. He stole it from me.

A lone wolf

Sometimes I feel totally alone, like there is no one in this world. When that happens, I react very strongly to it and act like I don't need anyone, thereby distancing people who do care and who actually are 'there' for me, which not so surprisingly ends up reinforcing my initial feeling of being alone.

Evasion

Thinking is man's only basic virtue, from which all the others proceed. And his basic vice, the source of all his evils, is that nameless act which all of you practice, but struggle never to admit: the act of blanking out, the willful suspension of one's consciousness, the refusal to think - not blindness, but the refusal to see; not ignorance, but the refusal to know. It is the act of unfocusing your mind and inducing inner fog to escape the responsibility of judgment-on the unstated premise that a thing will not exist if only you refuse to identify it, that A will not be A so long as you do not pronounce the verdict "It is." Non-thinking is an act of annihilation, a wish to negate existence, an attempt to wipe out reality. But existence; reality is not to be wiped out, it will merely wipe out the wiper. By refusing to say "It is," you are refusing to say "I am." By suspending your judgment, you are negating your person. When a man declares: "Who am I to know?" he is declaring: "Who am I to live?"

(I think Ayn Rand wrote that. Found it on the net and am thinking about it. I am a certified Evader and this is like a slap on my face. Hoping to find a valid counter argument. This is going to be a slap-fest)

A scary bedtime story

My cousin has a son. He is three years old, give or take a month. He is a sweet kid. A little hyper but children these days are like that. Must be the sugar. I was sixteen before I ever stayed up till 10. A rare occurrence that happens on the eve of exams. Otherwise I was an early to bed, early to rise kind of child. Anyway, this three year old nephew of mine couldn't be made to sleep before 11. Typically, it involves my cousin asking, cajoling, pleading, begging and then shouting, yelling and finally making it up with a bedtime story. The bedtime story she told her son (did I tell you he is three) was this:

You know what happened today? There were several motorbikes parked outside my office. And you know there are lines within which one must park their vehicle. But today, many bikes were parked haphazardly. And then the police came. They came with a big tow truck. And they towed
away all the bikes that weren't parked properly. One of my friends' bike was towed too. And the policeman said that he had to come to the station to pick it up. So everyone whose bikes were towed away went to the police station.

At the police station, the big policeman asked these people for their licence and Registration papers. He asked all TamilNadu registered vehicle owners to wait a little longer. And you know the friend I was telling you about, his vehicle had a TN plate. So he was made to wait and then the policeman made him show his hands and bet him with a big stick. He made him say that he would park properly henceforth. And he bet him again. It was painful and my friend started to cry. The policeman bet him till his hands bled. Only then did he let him take the bike home. So, will you park your bike properly?

The rendition ofcourse, was interspersed by threats of the policeman coming to pick up kids who refused to sleep. I swear to you I am not making this up.

What does this tale tell us? What moral lessons does the kid learn from it apart from one has to park their motorbikes in the allotted area? Perhaps, we learn that we must change our plates when we move states. (And we wonder why people are prejudiced!!??)

Granted that not every bedtime story has to have a moral or something. But what happened to the good old Snow White and the seven dwarves? Or the Tortoise and Hare or the Crow and the clever fox?

The real question however is... what are we doing to our children?

Quick tale: Slim Pickings

I was heading out and would have left the library but for the strange request from a thin reed like boy. I overheard him asking the librarian to suggest a book and the librarian reeled out a few titles that he ought to check. The boy seemed unconvinced and went on to leaf through random titles. I felt compelled to help the boy find an appropriate book.

I approached him and offered to help. 'What kind of books have you read? What do you enjoy? I'll suggest something similar'

'I read David Copperfield and I want something like that. How about Tale of two cities? Do you think it is deep. I want to read a deep book because one is supposed to read deep books. David Copperfield was deep. I learnt a lot from it. I want something like that,' he breathlessly spoke.

'Tale of two cities is a fantastic book. And I am sure you will love it. You should read Oliver Twist too'

'What is Shakespeare?'

'Shakespeare was a British dramatist...'

'No no, I know that. I meant how is he? Is he good?'

'Yes, he is considered by many as one of the greatest writers'

'What does he write?'

'Well! He has written a wide variety of books, ranging from comedies to tragedies. Have you heard of The Twelfth Night?'

My sales pitch on Shakespeare had clearly no effect and my customer was walking away. So a change of strategy was called for.

'How about Indian authors? Have you read R.K. Narayan? He is wonderful'

'Yeah!' he replied unenthusiastically, 'I have read him. English teacher, Financial Expert. It made me sleep. I want something more... I don't know'

'You should read Waiting for the Mahatma. It is one of my favourites'

The boy obviously didn't think much of my taste. 'Hmmm. But the book is so old.' It was an old copy, dusty hardcover and brown paper. It was evident that the boy was looking for a book that not only was a good read but would appear to be one.

The book evangelist that I was, I was undeterred. 'I will find him a book that he approves,' I told myself.

'Why don't you read Jefferey Archer? It should be here somewhere. Ah! Here it is. You could read 'Shall we tell the president?' or a 'Not a penny more, not a penny less'. They are intelligent and thrilling. You will like them'

'But they are so big. I may never complete them'

Sigh! The book should look new, sound intelligent and be thin. And yes, not by an Indian.

'Why don't you start with a collection of Short stories then? Take this one.' I handed him a copy of 'To cut a long story short'. It wasn't too fat, it wasn't too thin. It was just right. And new. And there were so many colourful volumes of Archer in the rack. Archer was good. One can always feel proud about reading an Archer.

'Thanks. This looks like something I can read'. He beamed a thanks and I left.

I sit at home wondering if he borrowed the book and if he liked it.

Belief

There is a celestial guardian angel looking after each one of us. All living beings reincarnate. Heaven and Hell are places you go to after death.

I could cry myself hoarse on this subject and it would make no difference. I know. I actually tried it. Had this discussion (we'll steer clear of the 'Argument' word) with a friend and he was fully convinced that all the above statements were true. Needless to say, I didn't. We were posing as rational beings and therefore the weapon we used was logic.

It is said in the Vedas that we reincarnate. Vedas are ancient. Vedas also tell us that they are divine revelations to seers and they are the truth. If Vedas are true, then we must reincarnate and since their truth is self-evident (because if it weren't true they wouldn't have written that it is true, right?), we must reincarnate. Aah! Beat that.

My friend's line of reasoning was that it was impossible to refute with any sort of evidence that the statements were indeed false. Therefore they must be true. Q.E.D.

I am reminded of the case of Bertrand Russell's Celestial teapot.

If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is an intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time.

Giving enough credit to my friend, he understood that this may be a sticky wicket to bat on and changed the rules. We no longer parried in logic. His new argument was that it was a matter of faith. These ideas were beyond the grasp of logic or reason. In fact logic and reason are obstacles to the proper understanding of it. Translated loosely, heaven exists if you think it exists. Isn't it amazing that mere thinking of something can conjure it into existence?

I don't think my friend should be allowed to have it both ways. Either it was a matter of faith and he just believed it and I didn't. If he cannot articulate why he believes it, he should not expect me to articulate why I don't. Or believing such things were a matter of logic and we could both trade arguments for and against and arrive at an understanding.

The problem, my friend was kind to point out, was that by questioning I lose all chances of finding out. Why can't you just accept it, he asked me. His charge was that I was not open to both possibilites. I plead guilty. I will stick my neck out and say that though it is possible that there is someone up in the sky looking after me, that I will reincarnate after this lifetime and that I may be deep fried in a huge pan of oil for such blasphemy, I think they are improbable.

Lankan conflict

“There is no easy way out of the spiralling morass of terror and brutality that confronts the world today” – Arundhati Roy

Every attempt to kill a terrorist, unfortunately involves accidentally killing hundreds of innocent bystanders as well. And for every hundred innocent people killed, there is a good chance that several future terrorists will be created. But one has to make sure that the right kind of innocent people are killed. Not the innocent innocent people from across the border. I mean, people would know about it then. Indians are good at math. They can count their fishermen. And who knows, India may develop a spine overnight and decide to intervene. Demand a ceasefire, impose sanctions or something. That can’t be allowed to happen, can it?

The Sri Lankan Navy has put in place an “underwater defence system” on their side of the border and they want the Indian Navy to warn Tamil Nadu fishermen not to stray in and get blown apart. How nice of them!

There is another not unimportant reason for the sea mines. For the Tamils on the Indian side of the Gulf of Mannar, there is definitely a sense of solidarity with the fighting Tamil separatists. But solidarity can only get you so far. This is a world ruled by its economics, not emotion. I think it is more as a business opportunity that the LTTE is appealing to the Indian mule. The supply lines through the mainland are strangled and the Tigers have to depend on the sea for rations. Rice, fuel, money, other essentials. Maybe even ammunition. So by installing sea mines, the Srilankan Navy was choking all life lines to the LTTE.

The only other alternate to the Tamils’ demand for complete statehood is the complete annihilation of the Tamils. A separate nation for Tamils is unpalatable for the Sinhalese and political suicide for anyone suggesting it. Not going to happen. Genocide of that scale is uneconomic. A PR exercise that SriLanka is ill-equipped to handle. Their national budget is perhaps less than the money Hillary spends on her presidential bid. Given the international watchdogs, human rights activists and scores of other people who have nothing better to do, not economic at all. But the LTTE is a different issue. The SriLankans can piggyback on the already well established propaganda of “Fight on terror”. LTTE is a terrorist organization and terrorism is bad. Nobody can object now. Nananaana. I mean, there are a lot of skeletons in that cupboard and the international community will not want to open it. With the LTTE, which has been the muscle behind the separatist movement, gone, there will be peace. Peace at any cost. What about the remaining Tamils you ask. Oh! Well… they can be non-entities. An inconvenience that they can live with.

The other side

The Test series in Australia has been very newsworthy and so much has been said about it in both the news media and the web that I didn’t want to add on to the colossal amount of junk. But a chance conversation with a friend has prompted me to break my silence now, especially since the controversies have sort of cooled down and we have won at Perth. Of course that the friend had promised me that at worst it'll get me a couple of hate comments, but no one will "blacklist" me or googlebomb my site has helped.

I personally, enjoy the brand of cricket played in Australia and was disappointed with the way the media blew the Sydney test out of proportions and the hamhanded way that the BCCI (and need I add, the Indian media) handled the case.

I feel that there were several separate issues and since they happened at the same time, people put them all together. Bad umpiring (awful if it will make you feel better), racist remarks (it is a different debate if said remark was racist or not), chatty Aussies and jubilant-after-the-victory Australian players are all unconnected issues.

Before you all scream traitor, let me add that I do believe that the test should have been drawn and it was unfortunate that the Australians went home winners. Unfortunate not unfair.

We hear about behaviour unbecoming of a sportsman. That is definitely bad for the sport and I will not make the mistake of defending it. But the question here is if the behaviour of the Aussies broke the codes of the sportsmanship.

Clarke’s catch (which replays showed as grassed) could be a genuine mistake and Benson checking with Ponting before declaring the batsman out was only in accordance with the captain’s pact (and not because Ponting is the new fourth umpire who trumps all decisions taken by the other umpires as mail forwards seem to suggest). Again, I cannot stress enough about the debate on walking. In International cricket it is now standard practice for batsmen to not walk unless he feels personally obliged to do so. It is not disallowed. The same is true of excessive appealing or chatting on the field, even making remarks to disturb your cool.

The way I see it is that there is a region of allowed sportsmanship and a border separates it from 'unsportsmanship'. Australia gets its aggressive edge by playing closer to the border but always on the sporty side. Take soccer for instance(football in the rest of the world), Australia lacks the class of Brazil or France and there is a lot of pushing and shoving on the field but the players know just how much pushing is allowed without getting the referee’s whistle. Like any Optimisation text book would tell you, the optimal solution lies right on the border. It is quite strategic, if you look at it. (It is a different issue that India tries to ape the aggressive play of the Aussies and end up straying into the bad territory – Sreesanth being case in point).

Harbhajan is an excellent cricketer and I like him but the stance that the board and the team have to take is not blackmail but justice. The BCCI, as I understand had not given one statement saying that it believed Bhajji to be innocent and that he had not made a racist remark. There was nothing about having a fair trial. Nothing like we will accept the verdict if he is proven guilty. They simply went into overdrive and announced that the tour was in jeopardy if Bhajji was not cleared and the ban lifted. Cleared, not given a fair trial. (Kudos to ICC for showing some backbone)

Harbhajan may or may not have said the things that he is alleged to have said and even if he did he may not have meant it as a racist remark. There may be inadequate evidence. Or he may have said it under provocation. But that is not what we are bothered about. He is beyond reproach and pure and is the victim here. The Board will protect him at all costs. What nonsense!

Parallels drawn with Muralitharan are downright stupid. He was the victim of a hostile umpire and maybe even racial abuse but Harbhajan was not the quarry but the hunter. We, of the subcontinent do not hold the monopoly on racism. And the abuse case on Hogg, is clearly a sign of “But he did it too” that I will not buy from kids in my block let alone professional cricketers.

In trying hard to not look at this controversy as an Indian cricket fan, I may have strayed to the other side. My post is perhaps not objective and readers need not remind me that the Australian media itself criticized its cricketers. All I am trying to remind my faithful readership is that neither the Indian media nor the cricket-lover has been even remotely objective and they could do so much better. For the love of the game.

If there was a God?

An important question has resurfaced since the passing of my neighbour (refer previous post). Put simply, the question is, ‘If there was a God, how do you explain such a death?’ The question begs some elaboration.

Death in itself is inevitable. It is just as natural as birth and essential for the balance of things. So, a similar question with regard to, say my 85-year-old grandfather who died of old age may not be pertinent. To a certain extent, even heart attacks and cancers are explained off as an outcome of our lifestyle: the food we eat, the kind of work we do, pollution, stress, etc. But how does one explain a death at a New Years party?

Shockingly, one of my friends held the view that it was a punishment (by God?) for abandoning our cultural values. But we’ll not digress.

Let us examine the facts: Anand was in hospital for a week and discounting all conspiracy theories, was under the best medical care possible. His family spared no prayers for his recovery. A few well-wishers in the apartments organized special prayers each day: chanting Vishnu sahasranamam and arranging for special offerings in the temple.

My point here, I rush to clarify, is not to belittle the goodwill shown by everyone. It is in fact, my very point that all these prayers were sincere and the goodwill genuine.

Our assumption (or if you are uneasy with that word, faith) is that there is a benevolent Almighty God who listens to our prayers and if our prayers are sincere (reasonable and not selfish) he grants them.

So why did he not recover? Their prayers, I am sure were (unambiguously) for a speedy recovery. The normal explanations of ‘Your prayers weren’t fervent enough’ or ‘Your faith wasn’t strong enough’ are hollow and inadequate.

There is a trump card up His sleeve and I have received them a few times in my time. For instance, the girl I was fervently hoping to marry got married to someone else. Or the college transfer I was counting on was denied. I was told that it was all for the good. God had a special plan for us that we do not know and cannot know (but it is all good baby). Our disappointment is based on an ignorance of what is in store for us.

Tell that to Anand’s parents. Try that ‘It was for the good’ argument on his sister. Whose good are we talking about here? What could possibly be a good outcome for his bereaved family? Oh no! there is a different card for young deaths. That is called, ‘Those He holds dear, He calls them back soon’. Who signed up for that, not Anand?

There is another card that infuriates me more. That is the Karma card. Maybe he was a nice bloke in this life but what about his previous lives. (More on Karma soon)

Brings the oft repeated doubt… if God is benevolent, then he is not omnipotent or he would have intervened (I wish I could and if I could I would but…) or he is omnipotent but not truly benevolent, choosing his intervention based on a rigid set of conditions (oops! Sorry but you were 5 short of the critical number of prayers required to qualify) or simply His whims (Nothing too weighty before coffee please. Not a morning person).

So, my question is very simple. Is there an explanation? A reason or higher purpose for this wasteful death. I cannot find one justification that passes muster. If the right answer exists, I do not know it. However, if my question was to be framed as ‘Is there a God?’ (a God who willfully participates in the daily running of the universe and fiddles with the fates of humans), my answer seems evident.

New Year

2008 hasn’t begun well. Not well at all. The Chennai Savera accident and the Marriot Mumbai incident are not my idea of ushering in the new year. For the uninitiated, here is what happened:

Chapter One: Hotel Savera, Chennai

It is not midnight yet and the real celebrations have barely begun. College-goers and software professionals have only just got to the dance floor to shake a leg. The dance floor is a wooden stage atop the swimming pool. Don’t ask me who’s idea it was but it sounded like fun. Fun until the stage collapsed and the hundred odd partyers fell into the pool. The hotel staff are unprepared for the emergency and despite their best efforts rescue operation takes far too long. One person is dead, several are injured and two are in critical condition. The two in critical condition are dead now, after I began writing this post. One of them, Anand, is my neighbour. A lad of 20. (I share my grief with his family and other mourners but this is the time for choler. Sorrow can wait)

Chapter Two: Marriot, Mumbai

Same time, similar celebrations and the countdown is over. Two girls are molested by a mob of 70-80 men. Their escorts are manhandled.

Chapter Three: Afterwards

The day after, the National Newspaper (as it claims to be) does not print the name of the hotel in their miniscule news article. Why, I wonder. Tamil dailies and some radio channels are insensitive enough to suggest that the partygoers deserved it. Partying to welcome the New Year with alcohol and music is against our cultural ethos. It is an evil wrought on society by westernization and high-paying software jobs. Therefore, these people; these delinquents brought it upon themselves. Paid a fortune for it in the bargain. The way to avoid getting injured in party accidents is to not attend parties. The same way that the way to avoid road accidents is to not use the roads. Staying home (preferably in front of the tele) is the assured way to a long life. (And what a life that would be)

Is there an increase in safety awareness and emergency preparedness? Who wants that! The ones who died, died because they went to a party. Were drunk. And dancing. This is a lesson to all youngsters. Stop partying. Stay home.

When will we stop blaming the victims? The other chapter hasn’t a better ending. Columns are written on how if women dressed provocatively and went clubbing, drank alcohol, one can’t help being molested by a horde of pea-brained men. They invited it upon themselves. How can 80 men be wrong? It was the woman's fault. Or, maybe it is not her fault but the way to stop such incidents is for women to not put themselves in such situations.

The same song, a slightly modified version is played here. This is not right according to our most noble and ancient Indian culture and is precisely the reason why bad things happen. Ladies, stop partying. Stay home. And be properly dressed. Head to toe is a good start. A couple of extra layers wouldn’t hurt.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!