Musings of a deranged saturday mind

I was out in the party. Saw a million women around . Most of them pretty, lively, and smart. Dancing to the beat. How do I go and speak to the "one"? So I look for a familiar face. Find them. And spend the evening with them. They are cute. Funny. Sassy. Time passes by. Midnight clock strikes. I am half-drunk. Look for the subway back. And I Take it. Two girls sitting next to me. Two strangers. One was sublime. The other lost. But trying to be funny. She was gazing an empty bottle. The bottle was rolling on the floor - from me to her and back. She smiled and said, "It's not me." "You are giving me ideas," I quipped. But hmm... not interested. I was fixed on the other girl. I saw peace, quiet, and a face that was telling me a long story. Asking me to fill in the words. What's lurking behind those soleful eyes? Is she lonely? Is she looking for love? Is this love? How can that be? No, may be just a wanting to love. But huh! How do I go and tell her that? So "I was sitting in the fence". Her station came. She got off. My jorney continued. To my empty bed. I write this. I kiss this. Oh! well I might just go and kiss the air.

"I always dreamt of being ...." - Oh Crap!

"I had this dream to become an movies star." I am so sick of hearing people saying such things. "Ever since I was a kid I thought that's what I will become." Remember Ellen in this year's Oscars - "I always wanted to host the Oscars." You guys - give me a break, will you.

If only people could reach to where they are just by taking a flight in their dreams. Dreams are not enough. I had a dream - of becoming a mango. I ran and ran and ran -- more than I ever thought I would. Yup! Trust me. And guess what? I turned to be an "apple". Should I say now - I wanted to be an apple? Liar. Seriously, I am tired of hearing this. If only life ran according to the - ever-since-I-was-a-kid-I-had-a-dream way. Loads of BS that at best drives me nuts in mae of giving some vicarious pleasure.

Yes, I may have fallen over the cliff and have become cynical. Maybe as some might think that I simply don't "get it" and still don't get it. Fair enough. Here's the truth. I never had dreams. I did loads of daydreaming bunch of them, and I still do. But to imagine that they will become reality - boy, let's not kid myself here. I do hope something somewhere somehow I'll get close. Hope is much more abstract than my tangible daydreams. Daydreams like: driving at 55 mph during the rush hour in the Beltway. Singing along with the Stones to rock the world. Getting a seat in the ariplane next to sexy girl. Writing something and seeing The New Yorkers and Vanity Fairs running behind me. Whoa!

What I have become and where my life is headed -- I don't have a clue. How I have arrived at this point -- I don't know how it happened. Merely a series of random accidents. I can't retrtace my steps. I can't find my back. I have no control of how things happen. I don't know what things will be thrown at me in future. All I do is hope that I can duck, may be swing myself, and deflect it in a way that's not that bad for me. For now, I can dream that I can always go for hitting out of fence.

Vegetating

My mind has been vegetating for the last few days. I feel like a sloth. It seems like one of the dull patches when the weather, and lunch deli all seems to be consipring to make my head heavy and sleepy. I wake up, go to work, keep glaring at the screen - emails, NYT, and Dow Jones. Lunch, and more of the fluorescent screen, drive back, gym, dinner, and sleep. Run that ten thousand times and there goes my life - my future. Of course I know that not true. Yup! I have plans! I began by reading my own stuff that I posted over the last few months. Gosh! some of them seem to be great, but large part seems to be utter garbage. Reminds me of some filmaker who said he finds his own work intolerable. I can now see his point. I sound so preachy, at times boring... oh! man! I can't go further. So it is good that my mind vegetates for a while. A rested mind and body will be good. That's what I hope.

Coming home to The Namesake

In the last few days I realized that I cannot escape myself from “something” related to the movie “The Namesake”. It has been a common topic of conversations among my friends. Even last week, when I crisscrossed the nation on a Jetblue flight from DC to SF and back, there were trailers shown in one of their “36 channels of Direct TV programming”. Quite repeatedly, in fact. So, what’s so? Nothing much. Actually, I was browsing Barnes and Nobles today and even picked up the CD. The checkout girl thought the movie has been released – to which I quite solemnly replied, “not is DC, only in SF, LA, and NYC.”

It was a little more than a year ago when I read the novel. I don’t know why I picked it up. Probably, I heard a note somewhere that Jhumpa Lahiri was a good story teller. In some of her interviews, she seemed honest and genuine. Before that I was not so keen on reading about novels or stories on identity conflicts and the whole subject seemed quite trite and boring. In a way, it was too close to reality to even think about it. But, things were a bit different this time. The novel was compelling and riveting. It hooked me on right away. Thank God, I picked it up on Friday evening, which meant I did not have to qualm about dropping the book aside – and worry about going to work the next day. And so page after page, I read on – under my bedside lamp in one corner of the world – my then home in town in North Carolina.

It was as if in some sense my fears, agonies, crises were being depicted and being underscored. I felt – if it were possible for the story to go on and on without an ending. It finally did end, and I did not like the ending. It was well - what's the answer - too ????? for me. I wish it never happened that way. Will he find happiness? It was all the more bothersome because I was living into the character most part and in the end I did not want to end up like that. I did not want to be another addition to long list of forlorn looking-for-peace human beings housed in the richest country. And then I looked my own self and could easily detach myself. I had company then.

What a twist of fate? Within a month – a storm blew away my marriage and I was in face of the earth left thinking that I was “destiny’s child” again. As I resurrected and reconstituted myself in the last year through multitude of travels, relationships, and explorations, I still seek my home. I see myself running towards the horizon grasping for something that may be nothing but “hope” itself.

While the movie will open in my city in the next month or so, I believe I am going to love the ending too. In the last year, I have sensed that it is possible to have a happy life without a happy ending. I appreciated real freedom to sense, perceive, and feel one with myself.

Many people believe - What we don’t want to see in life we love to see it in movies and novels. This novel does not meet that expectation. And may be that’s what so great about it. To understand that hope as an object can be as strong a reason to live as what is actually hoped for. One year later, I find myself not to be so different from Gogol. Searching and set-out to discover the world. Living into a life where journey and destination have collapsed into a nebulous cloud. “The End” never happens here. There is no silver lining. Remember Tagore’s masterpiece short story “The Homecoming”? - about a confused, vulnerable teenager at the crossroads of childhood and adulthood who finally gets to come home - the eternal abode called death

I don't want to die so soon. I care to enjoy this journey - coping with my changing identity, changing contexts, and a changing home. Yes, I am driving towards the horizon - an endless cycle of life.

Arranging Marriages through Blind Dates

During my undergrad existence I remember - to get a to get a blind date you really had to be a stud! One had to belong to a different league altogether . With a geeky look, nerdy characteristics, and paunchy belly, I was located in a different dating planet. Fast forward a dozen years and things have become quite the opposite. With Shaadi.com, match.com, eharmony.com, etc., turning out to be the most prominent (or only) platform to meet someone, blind dates are becoming the rightful way to keep my life going on tracks to take me somewhere. The more I get used to this concept, as alien as it may be, I can't think much different from what I feel in an arranged marriage. Can anyone tell me what's the difference? Even if the platform is a podium to get introduced and then catapault that inital meeting into a full blown romantic relationship - preferably culminating in a marriage, I can't quite agree it is same as a typical "love marriage."

Relationship starting off through any of these platforms do not have an organic seeding. You start off sipping through the vanilla latte in Starbucks because knowing fully that you are tolerating each other because you want to get married - and not necessarily you just want to hang out - with no strings attached - without the need to go anywhere, accomplish anything. How different is then such a meeting from those engineered by parents in initial stages of arranged marriage. Looks like the dynamics that propel an arranged marriage discussion runs these "blind dates" too. A hit or miss. To get a second date requires a stronger doze of initial chemistry which is in quite contrast to the way typically people fall in love. More often than not, love strikes in unexpected quarters and worse, it may not strike in the first meeting. How many times, I have fallen in love with a person, after knowing her all too well, with whom I practically dont remember the very first meeting. But once I am in it - I am attracted, not to mention, waltzing in the conversation with her.

So is chemistry over-rated? How about just giving it a shot anyway? Or, if it's just that speck of attraction - a huntch that - she may be the one. Who knows what works?

Slow cooking in relationships

Faire de la bonne cuisine demande un certain temps.
Si on vous fait attendre, c'est pour mieux vous servir, et vous plaire.
Good cooking takes time.
If you are made to wait, it is to serve you better, and to please you.
Menu of Restaurant Antoine, New Orleans

I read this when I came across The mythical man-month which was a book written several years back on managing large scale software development. Is this applicable to relationships too?

I have been wondering how critical attraction between two people needs to be. Chemistry, connection... I keep trying to understand - experientally as well as intellectually. The concept seem to lie farther and farther. Maybe, the less I try to figure it out, the less I will struggle. Maybe I will get it. Wishful thinking! Defeatist resignation! Regardless, the question is how about those relationships that grow over time. People say that's the way trust works. Is trust more important than chemistry? Does one feed into the other? Do some people fare better than the others? Can I learn? I don't know. Looks so much fuzzier.

I wish I get attracted to someone soon. I would let the "slow cooking" take its time to role out a solid relationship. Then, I guess I will have posterity to back up and prove that I fulfilled in delivering chemistry, connection, and what not. As of now, it simply does not exisit.

Nurse the Curse

Start afresh. A new beginning. My close friends who in all honesty keep boosting me. Without getting into the details, a new beginning is never the same. In fact, with every broken relationship there is something ugly that creeps in. Or, may be something is taken away.

It all began last year - on this date as I worked my way into single life. A couple of quick flings later - where am I now? No more goose flesh or racing heart. Not anymore. Beauty does not touch my skin easily. Only the eyes - perhaps. Aweful! Mellowed spirit tries to find love and avoid contempt. LOL!

Learning from The Lion King

"It's good to be the king. You lie around all day. You have two beautiful blond wives, much younger. They do all the work. When they take too long, you cuff them away and chow down on nice chunks of meat served rare. Hmmm, then it's time for (yawn) nap No. 4. If a new gal comes into town, you can take her in. The wives may howl, but that's too bad. What are they going to do, find another king?"

...I don't know a man who directly or indirectly won't aspire such a life. Well, that's the claim made in one of the recent Stephen Hunter's column in The Washington Post.

I am doing a typical Washington thing here, taking few quotes out of the article and I am just about to beat the hell out - as best as I can. Now to maintain full disclosure, the above quote is about from the review of the 3-D version of "The Lion King." Life is really good for the lion king. No doubt about that. But the writer does give a sexist spin to it -- making the remark that how pro-male and anti-women lion kingdom -- which he then insinuates -- applies to the enitre men species -- including human beings.

I agree. I won't deny it. I won't even argue because I dont have a different point of view. I really don't. All I want to say -- yes! the lion deserves it.

This is where I have some trouble with the article. Hunter does not talk about what the lion has to do to get there. In other words, this is a life that the lion creates for himself through years of blood and sweat. The blondes he gets don't have to deal with all this stuff. This applies to men too, not just "men lions" In some rare circumstances, men do get to live like the lion king.

So what does the lion go through? First, when a cub grows into adosclecence, he is driven out of the pride to fend for his ownself by the dominant male in the family. He then groups together with other males and forms a frat boys society. Teamwork and cooperation tides them through as they start mating and producing cubs. Then, the dominant male fights out and chases the rest away and forms his pride. Well, this is the short version, but we can easily get the gist. Not much different from the human life. And if that's so, for all the blood and sweat, and the fact at each of this step you could have got killed or destroyed, it is a reward that in some sense measure up.

Will someone reward the male lion in me with such a life. Just kidding! Else, will be disheartened.

Against solitude

Two distinct traits: Its one thing to find love and its another to keep that. And these two traits are so distinct in itself. It's almost like the difference between a "miner" of love and a "collector" of love. Imagine the difference between the coal mines of PA and the collectors of Upper West Side. Good miners are good in finding hot babes. Well, let's just say they pick up women in a heartbeat. Good collectors know to keep them for a long long time - till death do us apart.

And there are some like me. Not a finder, not a collector. God help them. What do they do? Where do they go? Here's what they do - when the others are screwing they write a mini-thesis about solitude.

I recently watched Bergman's TV series called "Scenes from a Marriage." Simply put - his best work to me. Timeless, orginal, and portrays real aspects of life that makes me feel - every minute was worth it. There is a discourse where the man talks about loneliness and that we are all lonely. We are alone in this world. That's the truth. Rest is illusion. We don't want to be lonely but we try to comfort ourselves that we have a family, a work place, a community, etc. - all to just foolishly comfort ourselves in this make-belief world.

Ultimately, the sooner we learn to live by myself - the better off I'll be. The protagonist - the man - keeps explaining to his divorced wife. The wife calmly listens and says - she does not agree with him. She calls him having a defeatist attitude, which she will not buy into. It's like learning to cope up with sea sickness before taking a ship rather than taking a plane because it may crash.

I was so much like the man in the Scenes from a marriage. Trying to comfort myself - by rationalizing my loneliness. Truth be told - it is absolutely vacuuous. Activating my creative and logical juices in my brain has never comforted my heart. But interstingly enough, it makes so much sense - at time. So much so - I was walking talking thinking that is the truth. It fitted my situation so well. The woman in the TV series - thankfully - was able to relegate this "truth" into an opinion worth rejecting.

There may be some truth to loneliness being the ultimate truth of life. But that does not help me. I hate to be alone. Someone dear leaves me and I miss that person. What's my ticket out of loneliness? Travelling, photography, writing? Elusive it may be, call it kiddish, but I need to explore, expand, and feel free. Goodbye my rationality crutch for now - until I need you again.

Ganguly

How many times sports personalities become icons as turnaround geniuses? As a kid, cricket was my religion - so much so my primal instincts told me that I was destined to be a cricketer. Taking a departure from Schopenhauer's "Man can do what he wills but he cannot will what he wills", I became something else. Well, that was on a lighter vein, but today something really hit me.

I am awed and inspired by our own Ganguly. We have heard stories about Wilma Rudolph, Jesse Owens, Jordan, and not to forget Jamaica's Bobsled team among many others who overcame adversities and became role models for life. Management pundits frequently draw examples of teamwork, passion, commitment, and focus from sports. So whether it is Joe Patterno's "good practice and not just practce makes one perfect" or the Ali adage of "I am the greatest", sports have filled us in pushing our own human limits of "higher, faster, and stronger".

Ganguly with his recent performance has redefined human endurance and the mental strength required to "swim against the current". This figure of speech may be hundreds of years old but in modern world it is no easy deal. With big money in cricket and media's lethal destroying power, "current" is a loaded word. And to put into the context, that he came from a super rich background, with loads of cash and from Calcutta where his prestige was still more or less intact - why did he have to come back? What is there inside him that told him - what triggered that? His will? Perhaps. But where is that will generated? Okay, let's stop right here because the answers may be as diverse as human imagination (Schopenhauer says will is not in his control anyway). But let's look at a smaller aspect. Let's presuppose that his will was there. We dont question where it came from. Let's look at that he delivered what his will wanted. Now - How many times do I even do that? I want to do this and that and yada yada yada. And then give up. Sometimes I do smal stuff and then feel I am a champion. For the big stuff, I give up and say that I changed my mind.

Ganguly's performance and this turnaround is exemplary. If I followed my will once and became a cricketer, I would have looked at his cricketing skills. But that does not preclude me from appreciating the gift he has has given now from his endurance, commitment, and proving his metal. Something more pervasive and far-reaching than his copy-book cover drive. And that is how to face life amidst adversity, being loyal and honest to one's dreams, and silence the naysayers with your work.

Why I avoided talking about secularism

Life encompasses not what I choose but also what I avoid. So long I have been skirting and consciously avoiding to write anything on this topic. For long, I have curbed my biggest weakness and that is my enthusiasm to avoid cynical subjects. I can sum up this whole issue in one sentance (will be generous enough to add an extra one) - why refute something that does not exist. Remember John Wood and his Book against God - where that fella wants to write a dissertation to prove God doesn't exist which his friend points out - how he can be against something that does not exist. The same thing applies here on a different context - secularism. In sum, I hate to spend ink on refuting it because I don't think it exist in any discussion. Maybe, except in academia, where everything under the sun is given an existence. And for a good reason. Yet, the current trends in recognition in literary circles does indicate something that cannot be ignored. In the past few years, we got Naipaul and Pamuk winning the Nobel; and another just waiting at the doorstep - Rushdie. All of them have been vocal about their views to the extent where their work and personalities have unified. Each of them is as much an activist as writers.

My personal wish is to keep exploring this area and see why academic circles are so enamored by this discussion and what theories they propound. Right now, it seems that there is quite a lot of intertwining and collapsing of multiple ideas that are at best correlated. Needless to say correlation is not to be consfused with cause and effect. For example, take Pamuk. His activist agenda infuriated his right wing leaning government folks earlier this year and was arrested. Now, he spends most of his time in Columbia lecturing about secular ideas. Embedded in the whole episode is the fact that he can do so in a country like US, which by many is not considered a secular nation. There is strong evangelical ethic that runs through the country. Now, changing tracks a little bit - why are these folks or the intellegentia consider secular ideas as a good thing? I don't know. Why get so hung up on it? Turkey for example, had its share of drinking the Marxist juice a generation back (after Ataturk era) and many (including Pamuk) may belong to that breed who think with the global demise of Marxist following - the secularism baby is getting trown out with overall Marxist bathwater. The end result - increase in fundamentalism. This pattern is quite pervsive including factions in India which has seen an upsurge in growth of fundamentalism through BJP and others.

This may be an interesting aspect to analyze, but let's revert to my earlier question why promoting secularism is so high on some people's list. My immediate response is why care? Ultimately, how a society moves towards greater recognition of private property rights determines its prosperity. The development of frameworks for law enforcement that recognizes such contracts is another component. The fact that men and women are partcipants in commerce and trade without any kinds of discrimination. The same applies to people across religions and faiths. And the way this is possible is through growth of markets and expansion of channels for distribution of wealth. Included also are incentives for production. It can be very easily correlated that America's condition in terms of freedom enjoyed by her citizens compared to other countries rests more on these factors than on secular ideas. It is only recently Merry Christmas is being coined as Happy Holidays which in daily life is more about political correctness than anything else. It's not quite the same way in other parts of the world. How may places in the world do you have a place like Columbia where you have a Bhagwati, a Spivak, a Jeff Sachs, a visiting Pamuk, a Glen Hubbard... That's what America is for you in a microcosm.

So let's wrap up for now. I believe the thrust on secularism is overrated. It does not give a whole lot argued this way or that - anyway. Reminds me of a Zen koan - where the dad tries to show his kid the moon by pointing his finger and the poor little kid keeps looking at the finger thinking that's what her dad wants to show. The moon remains elusive. Dad keeps trying but nothing works. Running after secularism is like keep looking at the finger and never being able to see the moon. The moon will be visible in promoting free enterprise, innovation, seeking opportunities to create wealth, and effective regulation that keeps negative externalities at bay. Until then, I don't mind enjoying either Pamuk, Naipaul, or Rushdie. They are no doubts some of the best minds of our generation. But will I be sweat what secularism is and what it is not. Probably not.

The way we live now...

I borrow the title from Susan Sontag's short story that appeared in The New Yorker several years back. The story was written for a different context - a young man dying of AIDS - so on and so forth. The essence however, was the way their friends behave. "Customary" visits and shows of sympathy, grouping together and putting usual feuds in the back burner for the time being - all for the sake of friendship. Oh really? Not quite. The story upheld utter shallowness and exposed the mockery of modern living without actually making a mockery of it. Call me a cynic, but with Holidays and Christmas bells just ringing, I can't help thinking this.

I am in New York City and the whole day I have spent watching two movies - "The Last Temptation of Chirst" which I saw finally because Martin Scorcese's signature was on it. I did not like it. The second one I had seen before, "Scent of a Woman" which needless to say is watchable many many times. More relevant more apt to "The way we live now"

While flying the shuttle today morning, there was a couple standing in front of me. A middle aged man, pretty round in figure - wearing pants that reached almost over his chest, glasses that made him look like a salesman. And he was behaving like one - that too a cheap one. "What are we getting them? Russel Stover or Walt Whitman? Godiva? Oh my God! Just then my eyes rolled over to take a sneek peek at a Godiva packet peeping out of large Nordstrom bag. Hmm... the argument went on. The man won't stop. "What did they give us last year? A $20 pack. Why are we spending $45 for them." The wife mumbled some explanation and soon realized that it is better not to mess (or it is futile) to explain the male species on domestication beyond a certain point. With a all-too-obvious-you-wont-understand look on the face, she dismissed herself from the chitty-chat to fetch some morning coffee. I was left wondering, early on a sunday morning, which also happens to be Christmas eve, with bag loads full off goodies - where in the world are they going. Friends? Relatives? It did not take a minute to stereotype this couple within the context of archtypal modern day living. It is Christmas time and you have to be with your family giving and receiving gifts - whether you like or not. It is Thanksgiving - you have to eat the turkey. It is Christmas time again - so run around the shopping malls to pick up the sweater for uncle Bob. Oh! big uncle Bob - is becoming bigger every year. Last year he broke our chair, this time I hope he behaves soberly.

I see most of us walk around searching for relatives and friends who are lost for the rest of the year, because Holiday spent alone is crazy. Same as those friends who came to visit the AIDS patient in Sontag's story. You dont like it but we do it because our title is that of a friend. There may be some, however, who have braved each year, and live a bit differently than we live now. For them, it is not the make belief world created by goodies or anything else. It is about the spirit that embodies the happy days spent in the past, and rejoicing what others feel at this time. Looking around I may find one or two. I'll look for them in the same street where Sontag tread and wrote "The way we live now"

Dealing with ultimate certainty

A couple of posts back I spoke about how incapable we are when it comes to dealing with uncertainty. We all venture in our own ways in dealing with it - striving to transform all uncertain elements into sure and certain outcomes. Yet, when it comes to dealing with the ultimate undertainty it is beyond any sane piece of mind. I am talking about "death". What is it? Is there any way I dont have to face it? Will I live long? Of yeah, I have heard you saying many times, "I dont want to live long, old age is a curse - yadayadayada." Come on, give me a break. Deep inside, everyone desires to live long. So how do I deal with it. Every time I board the plane, I feel scared. Last time, I was flying from JFK to SF and there was this guy next to me who started doing crazy things like standing up, calling on cell phone while the plane was about to take off. Man, I was scared for a moment. At that time, I feel statements like, "I dont want to live long" are such loads of crap which befits a shallow living room conversation over a glass of Merlot. But when life throws instances of mortal fear - all phoniness goes out. One thing that I have learned, it is to accept the truth that really sets one free - and it is the fact that I am so scared of death and hate to face it really means that I love my life. And I am much better accepting that and live it just the way I love it.

The last month to go ...

I have never been so eager for an year to end than this one. Does New Year really brings new hopes, joy, resolutions, and new beginnings. I wish it does! Or, let's at least believe that. I am at my last leg in San Francisco, and truly I am convinced that after visiting and staying a considerable time is many places - this city is the best in the world. I was in Las Vegas and LA over Thanksgiving, visited the Grand Canyon, which I thought was a nothing but a big hole in the ground. There are some who look at such stuff and keep wondering how nature created something like this. They see mounds of rocks jutting out as temples or the smiling Buddha. Reminds me of the Woody Allen joke - (paraphrasing) "Someone pukes in the Carnegie Hall and others look at it and find art in it." Anyway, anything static, unchanging in human years timeframe is just as good as looking at a picture. I love things that change. A moving river, changes in people's costumes, etc. etc. I really hope this year ends. I think I have had my share of upsets - failed relationships, Adcom rejecting my application after iinterviews, and so on ... But the most important part of this year, was I really felt the gift of true friends - people who have selflessly taken my venom and anger, shared my pain, and directed me in a way that kept me from disintegrating. I have come to know interesting people and visited many new places. Each of these places, will have a sweet sad story to say. I may be visiting these places again, hopefully in a happier setup - but it will never be the same. I will breathe the air that will string in the memories of this year - making me a bit forlorn. I hope that will allow me to cherish and enjoy the day that is still to come. What goes down has to go up. And maybe 2007 will be the year to go up. At least there is no harm in hoping ...

The joy of Physics

Lately, I have resurrected my high school interest in physics by reading Feynman’s lectures in Physics. It was back in my high school days that I used to marvel at my friends collection of those prized 3 volumes that I could not afford. Today, I own them. And I adore them. In those days, marveling physics was one thing, but Feynman himself was a personality extraordinaire. His model was something to admire and impossible to expereince. Almost akin to being a fan of a movie star. While traversing through several units of space and time, since then - I have come closer to the genius in my own right - meeting people who knew him by his first name. During challenger investigation, his thrust was to keep away from blaming the management and culture – the easiest segment to blame when you are too lame to come up with a scientific explanation. By the way management and culture was the root cause found for Columbia’s disaster that led to the faulty foam design. Feynman once pointed out (I am not 100% sure), the failure rate would be 1 in 50 for space flights – way below what NASA thinks now. Based on the track record, he was not wrong. Just that we are too scared to think that way.

I believe there is something innate in us that disallows us from accepting the intrinsic possibilities that may cause us pain. As an engineer, who frequently gets involved in mission critical systems, I find dealing with proabilities of failures and success on a daily basis. Yet as a human being how little we are tuned to accepting "chance" and "uncertainty" as real components of reality. As an anonymous quote goes, "Maturity is the ability of enduring uncertainty." It seems all our value systems, our push for inventing new things, believe in religion and God - all seem to geared towards creating certainty. Even Einstein nodded his head with the probabilistic treatment of quantum physics - saying "God does not play dice" to determine the motions. Consulting a psychic or praying for a better future all seem to be ways to peek into the future. I sometimes wonder, if I had kept noting or had a dime for everything that I expected and what really turned out - and I be brutally honest - the gap will be quite enormous and I would saved a fortune. May be God does play dice. May be there is no such thing as certainty. And no one really cares, beyond we mortals. It is all about estimating the chance of survival and happiness. How about doing minor rephrasing of statements like - "If you study, you will get a job, and you will be happy." to "If you study, there is higher CHANCE you will get a job, and there is higher CHANCE you will be happy." Well someone else may propose "If you are happy, CHANCES are you will get a job, and CHANCES are you will study." But whether the "being" drives the "action" or the "action" drives the "being" is a separate philosophical question. For now, it's the joy of physics - the innate notion that everything can be explained through its laws.

The significance of being insignificant

I was in a Barnes and Noble browzing. In the magazines section, I found them showcasing Esquire magazine - styleguide for men. Sifting through the pages, I feel a kick inside my stomach saying, "This is the benchmark. Do something." And this sudden urge creeps in that how I can increase my net worth and get inside Forbes richest men issue - year 2025. I understand relying on my job in "just over broke" in billionaire terms. What are other ways of earning? Stock market is Las Vegas for me without the girls - just another slippery slope that I don't understand. So what's there for me. Education myself more? But does that guarantee anything? And so this is how my day goes. Night falls. My living room turns into a paradise - Horowitz playing the Motzart piano concertos and a glass of rum, reading the NY times, an empty plate where the remants of lamb curry and bread ... and a dim lamp. Life seems to be complete. Call it complacency or satisfaction, call it resignation or contentment - is like beauty - lying in the eyes of the beholder. For now, a day goes by and a night. May be I will get back to wealth creation models, but for now the Hyde loves to forget Dr. Jekyl in me.

Suiciders don't need the law

Yesterday while driving to work, I heard an interview on the BBC that some dude in UK has started an international campaign to introduce a law that will incriminate individuals who may have caused someone else to drive into committing suicide. I do feel sorry for this guy who is in rage after her sister committed suicide because her husband would give her a hard time. I do feel bad for him and is most unfortunate that someone had to take her life. But pass a law to incriminate someone?

Wake up dude, this is 21st century. If your sister could walk out of this world and could not walk out of her marriage then that’s no excuse. Too bad! People will commit suicides, the common reason being that the pain of life itself exceeds the pain of death. In most cases, these people are pushed beyond any form of conventional sanity. I say that because under sane conditions people want to live. Whether it is through the explanations of the physical universe, economic theory, or theology – at least on this ground there is a commonality. Medicine strives to increase life expectancy and so does the monk who is chanting in his tree house. So much so, religion even talks about everlasting life in another world knowing fully well say as you may death is inevitable in this life. So, well - construct another world and who cares if I add the extra bonus whether I get a thousand virgins to do lap dancing. Said in another way that’s what we all want – life, enjoy, and gratify our senses. You and I are looking for a life to live – this world or anything else. But those who commit suicides have gone beyond all these rational, normal, and sane understanding of our universe. And if someone is drawn to this ultimate act, how and more importantly, why do we hold another responsible. No one buys an argument that any situation can be such that suicide was the only option.

Many may argue that it may be so. An unmarried girl getting pregnant in a north Indian village may take her life thinking that she wont be able to carry on with her social stigma. In this case, whom do you punish – the boy who disowned her or the society. Since the society does not have a phone number nor an address, you punish the boy. But is this fair? Were not both of them partners in the same act (assuming everything was consensual).

This guy’s claim and efforts are bogus. Suicide like abortion is a fundamental right as a human being. We do not have any control over our birth, we have limited control over our life – the way it goes, but death – we have complete control. Not that every one of us are taking our lives, but the fact that I can helps me tide over life’s many sorrows, despair, and agony. And when in those dark corners of my thoughts, the thought that I can take my life creeps up like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, it is indeed redeeming. I then finally manage to say, “No, not yet. I can go few more of this pain.” Death will come anyway. As in Bergman’s Seventh Seal, the protagonist says, “…I am playing chess with death.” Yes, we all are playing chess with death. If someone wants to resign and walk away, let her do so. We all will be check mated anyway. It’s just a matter of when. So dude, get on with your own life, and channelize your anger and grief to something more meaningful. You and I will follow your sister soon, so why does it matter if she did it by herself.

Pamuk wins the Nobel

I am so happy today. I woke up and read Ohran Pamuk won the Nobel. For one, it is amusing because unlike other Pamuk's admirers, I am rather a late entrant to this group. But more importantly, I can at least console myself that I was lucky to fall in love with his writing before the recognition arrived.

It's been a while since I posted last. With activities galore keeping me occupied, I had all these millions of ideas racing in my mind without actually penning them down. But no more waiting. I am simply so happy. Happy to the extent of almost falling over my cerebral cliff when another voice comes and interrupts and asks, "Why are you so happy about? Do recognitions really matter? Pamuk himself said it doesn't earlier this year in an interview." Well, truth be told. It does. We are all humans and being humans we are in our inner self like children always hungry for acknowledgement. Now, you may ask if he gets the Nobel why am I happy. I am happy because in some ways a Nobel to him validates me. It validates my sense and spirit of appreciation, it recognizes the fact that what I have so fondly loved is also loved by a recognized institute. I feel being a part of a larger whole.

So much for that but what has made him so special. My first encounter with his work has been Snow and admittedly, I have not read much of his other stuff apart from his interviews, reviews in New Yorker, and so forth.

"Snow" touched me deeply. His protrait of Ka - a rather solemn, solitary poet living in a rather politically charged small towm. How he falls in love with Ipek, a divorcee, and how his typical male idiosyncracies destroys the trust that Ipek gradually began to develop. The human dynamics especially the underpinings in a man's behavior and his inherant incapacity to understand the progression of a woman's sentiments is simply amazing. It touched me to my bones. The apparent confusion that seems to baffle so many men (as I have known from my own life to those of my friends) is inspite of "doing everything" - somehow you cannot win a woman's heart. Not completely. And this where Pamuk so intricately weaves these emotions from different perspectives - almost running the subtle changes in human heart in slow motion. Beat by beat.

Quite ironically, it has baffled me and remained a mystery why so many women fall for men who are prone to trouble, or running their risk of their lives - activists who may be jailed, or criminals who may die. More personally, I have felt on numerous ocassions why linear, non-trouble makers, boy next door hunts perpetually for true love. In Snow, through Ipek's love for Blue, inspite of Blue's radical and potential life threatening circumstances. Ipek says how his compassion for people was genuine and how dedicated his love was that he braved all the risks to visit her. I guess these things matter for the heart. Again subtle remarks like - ..(paraphrasing) "men are given to verbal abuse do so to show their lover how much they love them." Well, only to find out later that woman's love has completely dried out.

Snow will remain as one of my most touching novels. In those long nights laying in my studio looking over the SF skyline - between the large open space, my little voice, and the world that Pamuk was able to weave gave me a "second life". Absolutely moving and solemn experience!

Puja Time

I just returned from the Puja Weekend. It took 6 seasons to finally make it to a Durga Puja in US. Now, I can say - "I have made it." It was fun. And it was really special and divine. It was the presence of ... and I leave it at that.

Some rumblings

In today's op-ed in the Times, David Brooks writes about Louann Brizendine’s book, “The Female Brain.” I have not read the book yet. But it is quite coincidental how lately I have run into conversations with people, I have encountered exactly the point he makes. That people by and large are trying their level best to honor ancient stereotypes and appreciate gender differences. Now, one group drinks the religious juice and sermonizes what Jesus said. And another group looks into science and combinations of chemicals and hormones to prove that women are nurturing and caring and what men are, and by its very design they are meant to be behave differently. My take is this social change is a part of a process. People have simple gotten sick and tired of the mavericks starting from Freud to the hippies of the 60s who propounded new ways of living - either by altering your own thinking or by altering your environment. I don't care much what the instrinsic truth or validity of such studies. What matters is whether it works or not. The philosophy and pschychology that gave rise to feminism and other weird ideas have not provided happines and have failed. So let's try something different. And a generation later we may find something else.