The world as I see it

Examining our commitment towards liberty - John Stuart Mill revisited

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 07:36:00 +0000

India celebrates its 63^rd Republic Day this year on 26 January, marking the anniversary of the implementation of the Indian Constitution. As citizens we must reflect upon the constitutional rights and liberties guaranteed to us by the law of the land. The Preamble to the Constitution states clearly that India will secure “LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship”. But one must beg the question if the country is still true to these foundational institutions. We are now living in uncertain times where the promises of free speech are steadily but surely violated: our voices on the Internet is being stifled and any opinion that is deemed “inflammatory” or “offensive” are hastily shut up with the clumsy explanation that the very fabric of national integration may be destroyed. Difference of opinions, especially in a theological context, is feared to be a harbinger of unrest and invites threats of terrorism. The recent controversy of Salman Rushdie’s freedom of speech rights being vulgarly gagged shows how the threat of violence pervades even the most fundamental rights of expressing one’s opinions; even if they are polar in nature to that held by the majority (or a minority). It is in this context that an essay written by British philosopher John Stuart Mill in 1859 is worth revisiting. This brilliant essay examines the extent of society’s hold over the individual and assesses the important, but not often discussed ideals of social and civil liberty. Although these liberties can be considered as forever present in societies both ancient and present, it has to be constantly reviewed and discussed, even at the risk of splitting opinion amongst the populace. This essay illustrates how words penned nearly a century and a half ago still holds such relevance to societies and democratic governments of present.

Liberty as a means of fending off despotism

Liberty means the protection of the people from the tyranny of those who rule over them. In ancient times, the people were ruled by one individual or several individuals who were bestowed the position by virtue of being conquerors or by hereditary right (save for the Greeks). The rulers were in essence, double-edged swords: their power could be used to fend off enemies or could be directed at the proletariat. Thus to prevent such machinations, the people sought to limit the power exercised over them by the aforementioned rulers in two chief ways: political liberties were granted and if these were violated, retaliation was justified and by the means of constitutional checks and balances (introduced subsequently as democratic frameworks replaced existing regimes).

But as the ages passed, the ruler no longer occupied a position antagonistic to the position of the people who he ruled over. Rather the people wished their masters be appointed and removed solely at their pleasure and so the above concepts of liberty had to be suitably revised. A democratic set-up assumed that the people needn’t be protected from themselves, but over time the individuals who assume power may no longer be representative of the individuals who elected them to office and may come to represent only a majority rather than being all encompassing. Therefore among other societal evils, the tyranny of the majority is one to be wary of.

Social tyranny and its influence on liberty

However society itself- the collective rather than the individual- can tend towards tyranny and manifest it in manners besides elected political officials. Social mandates can be imposed on society with negative consequences because it will try to penalize the individual whose ideas and rules of conduct deviate from those deemed acceptable by the majority. Thus social tyranny can be equally formidable or more so than political tyranny as the former seeps into the finer details of daily life. A limit must therefore be discussed and drawn such that collective opinion does not encroach upon individual opinions and preferences.

But what exactly is this is limit and how is it drawn up? The author believes that the question is yet to be correctly addressed. He then says that guidelines that deal with human conduct are often dictated by personal opinions rather than by hard reasoning. Indeed, one’s own opinion is often the golden standard of judgment and one sympathizes with beings who share that worldview. But if these individuals decide the rulers, do they not also impose on individual liberties, vicariously, through the government they create? The author simply states that the interference of the government is “improperly invoked and improperly condemned”.

The essay tries to point out that the reason for imposing control and coercing the individual or in essence interfering by means of physical force, legal penalties or the like is for self-protection. The only occasion where power can be exercised forcefully against the wishes of a member of a civilized community is in order to prevent harm from befalling others. The author however has a different opinion for societies that are still ruled by barbarians and opines that the principles of liberty do not apply in a time when free and equal discussion is nonexistent. But once such a society comes of age (even if it was guided by the hands of a despot), compulsion is no longer viewed favorably, save in the case of protection of others.

Freedom to be yourself

The introductory is concluded with what liberties are granted for the individual. They include the liberty of thought and sentiment, the absolute freedom of opinion on all areas including moral or theological, the liberty of living one’s lives as one sees fit without impeding the lives of others and also the freedom to unite with other individuals for any purpose (whilst adhering to the caveat of not inflicting harm upon others).

To truly summarize the essence of the introductory and to whet the reader’s appetite to pursue the remainder of the work (available freely online), I quote Mill:

“No society in which these liberties are not, on the whole, respected, is free, whatever may be its form of government; and none is completely free in which they do not exist absolute and unqualified. The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Each is the proper guardian of his own health, whether bodily, or mental and spiritual. Mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.”

5th Winter School of Immunology

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 19:13:00 +0000

The Gods will offer you chances,

Know them, take them.

....

you are marvellous
the Gods wait to delight
in you.

- Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart

Indeed they did.
Imagine being invited to scenic Jodhpur to meet 49 other immunologists from all across India to discuss your work and to get to know one another. Now add to the mix that there will be seminars on cutting edge science that's being done in labs as we speak.

The labs of Harvard and Yale Medical School and UCSF, I mean.
Now as the icing on the cake, the faculty from these institutions themselves arrive to teach us a thing or two about immunology and take our questions and sit with us at the dinner tables to laugh and talk the night away.
It seems surreal, but it's true. I just came back in a daze of disbelief, wonderment and inspiration that I've met some of the best immunologists in the world today and also that I got the chance to meet and talk to some of our country's future stars in the field.

What Christmas is all about

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 12:19:00 +0000

Tony Piro, the comic’s artist is donating a dollar to Doctors Without Borders for every 500 views that this comic gets on his website. That’s between now and the New Year. So in the spirit of helping those less fortunate than us, let’s all pitch in and share this comic around. The whole Internet divided by 500 is sure to amount to a lot of dollars!

Click the pic to see it in full-size.

200

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Everything begins with an idea or a powerful suggestion. The invitation to co-author on Archaeopteryx87 came in the same way, when I visited Vyaas after the conclusion of our mutual weekend tuition classes. We made a pact: I would introduce a light, playful facet to the blog and occasionally post a rant or two about things that grind my gears, while Vyaas would handle everything from the origins of the Universe, the seemingly strange phenomenon of quantum mechanics and the rare introspection on social issues. In other words, we would be two opposing entities in terms of concept and thereby bring to the blog a fresh perspective and continually inspire the other to keep the effort going. Now trust me, co-authoring is not as easy as you think it is. You are given a chance to collaborate and by that, you can make or break the blogger’s reputation and risk undermining his/her writing trend. You have to be careful about the topics that you post about. Politics, religion and essays about sexuality are taboo but can be accommodated if they are well thought out and well argued. But as constraining on creative and writing freedom as this may seem, it gives you a chance to share the blogging responsibility and explore ideas and areas never ventured into.
Sometimes Fate (visualized the same way as the Eternal Footman, only with additional malice and contempt for human existence) tosses you an inspirational bone. Somewhere into the third year of my undergraduate degree, I happened to subscribe to Ashwin Bala’s “The Untitled Stories”. A fellow classmate in the Chemical Engineering Department, Ashwin wrote poignant (and sometimes so maddeningly cryptic that its meaning had to be teasingly extracted after multiple readings) pieces of flash fiction, that it inspired me to follow suit. Since then I’ve written a handful of flash fiction pieces that have received praise from close friends and family. Then one fine day, I stumbled upon Metazen- an online magazine that published short fiction and poetry by imminent and upcoming authors. The storytelling style was convoluted and the ending was unpredictable. Some of the stories followed me for days. This inspired me to write better, improve my vocabulary and try brave new styles. I have been turned down several times, but an encouraging e-mail from their editor has kept me going. However, I did manage to have a minor victory or two: a piece has been published each on Wufniks, Nanoism and most recently on Dfuse. Blogging also brought me an opportunity to see my work in print and I thank the publishing companies for their kind consideration.
But that is where we part way with the other bloggers. I note that some bloggers are slaves to page views and search engine hits. They abandon a constrained writing style or ideology and write about everything under the sun with the intent to crawl up the Google search list’s top pages . Current news, polemic about politics and the acting world form the primary fodder for these individuals and they target the readers who share the same opinion regarding the above. They advertise tirelessly; filling up social networks and micro blogging services with their Bit.ly links. They goad you to read and to re-tweet their posts. Perhaps this is a way to boost readership,but I’d rather my blog be spread through word of mouth and be pleasantly stumbled upon rather than tripping up people. Then there is an obsession with website ranks. People flaunt their Indiblogger and BlogAdda scores like they’ve aced the Board exams. They fail to read and understand the writing on the wall: your blog can be quite awful and still score an 80+ because we aren’t allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of the ranking system. So while it’s indicative of your writing prowess, it shouldn’t be hailed as the golden standard of judging writing skills. The simple reason I write is because it’s liberating; it serves as an outlet for words and ideas. While it’s definitely a human need for people to want others to read and comment on their work, that shouldn’t shape the way you write or the reason why you write what you do.
We’ve had just under 21,000 views from our inception and just 21 or so subscribers to our blog feed. This achievement is paling in comparison to the views that other bloggers receive, but we like to write and allow readers to find us instead of the other way around.
Thanks for reading our 200th post.

Christopher Hitchens 1949-2011

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 15:44:00 +0000

Our lives are the sum of experiences: personal and vicarious. Our existence is a complex pastiche of memories and achievements; a beautiful portrait guided by the hands of our parents, our teachers, mentors and strangely enough, by our arch nemeses too. However, we always learn and seek wisdom and inspiration from those we have never met; or are desperate to meet. Perhaps they have answered a burning question we’ve had since as long as we can remember; or have put effortlessly into words that which always remained a foggy,mercurial Will’o-the-Wisp in our heads or simply confirmed in writing what we’ve felt all along and too afraid to say.
That individual to me was Christopher Hitchens and he passed away today from complications of oesophageal cancer. A brave journalist; his reporting has touched upon subjects who in conventional media have held a lofty reserve of immunity. One such individual to face the journalist’s camera was “Mother” Teresa. An brilliant investigation led by Hitchens as showcased by uploaders on Youtube, it shows the pathetic conditions inside the houses of supposed healing at Calcutta. The elderly and the infirm were brought there to be paraded to outsiders; the latter witnessing the merciful nuns bringing solace and comfort in the former’s grim last days. But Hitchens blew that illusion to hell and revealed the healing houses were really Teresa’s warped theological interpretation: God’s love had to be earned by suffering.

“I personally want to ‘do’ death in the active and not the passive, and to be there to look it in the eye and be doing something when it comes for me.” - Christopher Hitchens.

Hitchens was also an antitheist and one of the Four Horsemen of the New Atheism movement- a movement rooted in the conviction that religion is detrimental to the progression of rational thought and that everyone deserved a chance to look objectively at evidence and learn for themselves the wonders of science instead of being blindly herded with the rest of the flock. Hitchens had many a lively debate regarding the evils of organized religion and debated many apologetics including Dinesh D’Souza and even the odd politician (Tony Blair) at the Munk Debate. He compared Heaven to the dictatorial regime of North Korea: where everyone must sing praise and hail a holy father figure for all eternity without daring to complain.
“Hitch” as he was called by his friends and admirers, was a walking compendium. His library at home is covered from wall to wall with books ranging from American history, classics and religious texts (the better to debate apologetics with). He was a great admirer of George Orwell and any fan of Hitchens can see Animal' Farm’s and 1984’s influence in many of his essays. Hitchens was a masterful orator, an extremely learned and skilled writer and his razor sharp wry British wit charmed his friends and stunned his opponents. His death is a severe blow to most of us, but surely his peerless legacy is preserved and immortalized in every printed word and in every word he has uttered. It may seem to be the night’s darkest hour, but we must take solace in the fact that his legacy will help inspire millions to pick up their pens, question their Gods and ultimately emerge into the daylight of clarity.
Thank you Hitch, for everything.

Mayakkam Enna- Dhanush's tour de force

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 08:34:00 +0000

It's been a long while since I've gone to see a Tamil film. There are several reasons really, which range from fanatical and unruly movie goers, who boo, catcall and whistle at inappropriate moments to over-the-top, larger than life action scenes and crass humor. But I heard many good things about this movie: the songs were really catchy, the debut of actress Richa was an excellent one and most importantly that it highlighted Dhanush's versatility with regards to donning any role.

The audience,oddly,were disciplined during this heartwarming scene.
The whistles and catcalls ensued during the lead up to the kiss. Oh well, can't win them all.

SPOILER ALERT: If you have not watched the movie, please do not read further. What follows are my thoughts and impressions of the movie. But if you don't mind spoilers or want to agree or disagree with my interpretations later, do read on.

I find it interesting that Yamini (portrayed by Richa) is attracted to Karthik's (played by Dhanush) rash personality. She showed a clear distaste to him in the opening scenes on the beach, but within an hour in the movie, she's doodling pictures of him absentmindedly in her office? Really?
The two lady friends that Karthik has seem to be purely background characters. They appear at the beach scene, then at the forest resort and one last time towards the end of the film.
Dhanush is the master of epic facepalms. There are just a handful of scenes where he doesn't execute the perfect WTF? moment. That little peeve aside, I simply loved the scene on the beach where he confronts his idol photographer; who then proceeds to screw Karthik over after he has stolen Karthik's work and presented them as his own. Kudos to Raviprakash for portraying in his character, the very soul of cruel sadist. In the end, I expected him to apologize for his actions on live television, but it's just as satisfying to see that Karthik wins out. Dhanush's acting style changes completely after his character suffers a head trauma after falling off (the second?) floor building. The scene where he sits alone on the couch staring blankly ahead in the low lit living room is a true testament to the director's choice of lighting to emphasize Karthik's mental condition.
Special props to Richa for playing the role of an icy, yet pragmatic woman in the first part and a grief struck, loyal wife in the second. The scene where her character is abused after participating in a photo-shoot was chilling, but the true KO comes when she wipes the blood stained floor after Karthik violently shoves her aside. All her frustrations are seen when she impotently scrubs the floor and the director dedicates a full minute to her melancholic screams. Powerful stuff.
My only beef with the film is perhaps the anti-English sentiment. Tamil films are known to be embracing of Tamil culture and language and discourage too much of English (words and cultural references) from creeping in, which I believe is fair enough. But there were a couple of scenes, which seem indicative of a hidden frustration among Tamilians about the English language and with those who speak it well. These English speakers- they are labeled as "Peters" (another word for you to learn after you Google "Soup Song"). Metallica's Nothing Else Matters is played at the Beach scene, with the gang humming/half-spluttering the lyrics. For a man like Karthik who hangs out with friends who listen to a lot of English music (and possibly speak it themselves), he seems to show a lot of anger towards Yamini when she speaks to him in English. Perhaps the worst part was when Karthik attacked the bridegroom at the wedding. Drunk as he was, he accused the bridegroom of being a "Peter" just before he smashed a (liquor?) bottle over his head, leaving the bridegroom a bloody mess. Karthik cold have leveled any insult from the Tamil or English dictionary before that act, but "Peter?" Is he that pissed off at people who speak English? And just to be clear, I am not a fan of Kolaveri Di. It's simply doggerel and has survived only because of people's ability to identify with a heartbreak and perhaps of the catchy background music. The lyrics however are disgraceful and truly facepalm- worthy.

All in all, Mayakkam Enna is an excellent film that features an excellent cast, wonderful acting and some great songs. Highly recommended viewing.

Birthdays

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 07:00:00 +0000

Back then, and I mean over a decade ago, the last week, or maybe even two leading up to your birthday would be marked with a little countdown. And the birth date itself would be circled furiously in an orange or red sketch pen with oodles of exclamation points as though to emphasize the already obvious. By then the invites would have already been sent out and the party would have been planned right down to the last detail. There would be colorful crepe paper adorning the ceiling and the actual cake itself would be this thing of sugary, icing laden wonder in the form of your favourite caped crusader. The Nintendo NES would be overheating at this juncture; unable to cope with the fifteen odd kids desperate to kick ass on Legendary or Excite Bike (never press B, it causes the engine to overheat!).

Probably the only game to have a password cheat for the first level.

The game on pause, the ceiling fans switched off, and the lights turned off for good measure, the cake; lit with candles and glowing in the dark like a star to guide lost sailors, makes its way to the hallway. The cake is cut, candles are blown out and the kids sing a mangled, unorchestrated version of the birthday song (which is copyrighted I hasten to add) and there are enough rounds of Coca Cola to go around. The kids hand over the birthday presents, play one more game of Spartan and head on home. After the euphoria wears off, the presents are opened and reveled in. And of course, you get to wear your birthday outfit to school on the day and ditch the class you hate most on pretext of distributing candy-a sort of reverse Halloween, to the other teachers in the staff room, with your best mate in tow for the ride.

Nowadays, birthdays are far less remembered by yourself and the others around you. It's come to a disappointing low, that unless you're on Facebook; where your details are plastered across for everyone to see, people take it for granted to forget. And gone is the enthusiasm. You dread the day you turn a whole year older. Every birthday seems to weigh heavily on you and demands thorough introspection: What did you do to warrant merit this past year? Did you do any of the things that you wanted to do by the time you are your age? And most importantly: There are scores of people out there at your age who have gotten so much more out of their lives than you ever have . And needless to say the birthday parties of today all seem to be seeking a legitimate excuse to get borderline drunk and amble back home to nurse the impending hangover. Gone are the days of innocence, when we enjoyed waking up in the morning and running amok all over the house screaming, "It's my birthday!!"

Today we are reminded that we are losing time on our goals and ideals, that another year has come and gone silently, our responsibilities and our heartaches abound and that our friends (save for the closest), have moved on with their lives and the parties of yesteryear can never be replicated. Every birthday is a sobering wake up call to what we still have to do. The only saving grace is that you get pampered by your folks at home and a card to where ever in the world you're living, that says in Hallmark words :
"You're my little baby and I love you very much, sweetheart. Happy Birthday"

Last minute tips for the JLPT N5

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 07:27:00 +0000

Well, it's just two weeks to the 2011 Japanese Language Proficiency Test at Chennai. Before we get to the tips, a quick word of advice:

Don't forget your hall ticket! Also bring along one item of photo-identification, preferably your passport. I'm not sure about PAN cards and the like, but with the passport, you can't go wrong.
You cannot bring any hand-bags or backpacks into the hall, so leave them outside, in the hallway, at your own risk.
Absolutely no mobile phones to be carried on your person! That means, NO mobile phones at all! Not switched off, not in vibration mode or silent mode.
Wear a simple, no nonsense watch for the exam. No alarms watches, mind. If your watch vibrates or so much beeps, you will be ejected from the premises and your exam invalidated. Borrow your grandpa's watch and leave the high-tech chronometer at home. :-D
Bring your own writing requirements: an eraser, a couple of HB or No.2 pencils and a pencil sharpener.
And be at the exam premises a good 15 minutes before the exam is scheduled to begin. Once the listening section begins, you will NOT be allowed inside.

By now you should be clear with both sets of kana; be able to read simple sentences in Japanese and also clear on the 700 odd word vocabulary.

Some last minute tips:

Don't waste too much time practicing old N4 papers; instead familiarize yourself with the layout of the N5 and be prepared for the type of questions expected in this examination. These include identification of correct kanji from options that include incorrect but similar looking kanji that has a radical or a stroke missing/different, rearranging a jumbled sentence and reading comprehension.
Visit the Meguro Language Center website and download some of their earlier "Grammar and Kanji that appeared in previous exams" pdf files and see if you can answer them.
Try purchasing or reading a copy of Minna no Nihongo I: Honsatsu on the Scribd website. This will help immensely in reading Japanese preparation and also for polishing grammar. There are around 24 chapters, but getting through 15 or more should be sufficient.
There is no easy way to prepare for the listening section. But be absolutely thorough in counting, telling time in Japanese, as well as adjectives and verbs. Usually there will be red herrings where we might hear the word for "tall" and hurriedly select the answer, when ctually the speaker would have said, "tonari", indicating the person standing near the tall person. You could download some free episodes from the absolute beginner series of the JapanesePod 101 podcast to get a feel for the language. I would recommend that you get the episodes via an RSS feed as opposed to subscribing for free on their website- you WILL be spammed otherwise.
Finally a quick and easy way to revise (assuming your reading speed and accuracy are up to speed) is to flip through the latter half of Teach yourself Japanese by Helen Ballhatchet (available at Landmark stores in Chennai and elsewhere). The text is in romaji, but that's a small price to pay when you have so little time to revise at the end.

All the best for the exam!

Astrology: Darkness in the Age of Light

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 07:12:00 +0000

I see so people today utterly convinced that the stars have something in store for them and that special folks with the ability to interpret and predict the future exist. Welcome to the world of astrology- probably the most pervasive and intellectually dampening pseudo-science today. Astrology believes that the sun and the planets, not to mention other stars and their respective positions are of tantamount importance in determining what kind of a future you will have. Let's break down a few points and ask ourselves a few questions.

How does it work?
Astrology, in all its flavors (Western or Eastern) gives no scientific explanation as to how the planets and stars influence the lives of the mortal. Is it gravity,mass perhaps? Without a sound, scientific basis, there is no foundation at all. So needless to say, anything further built on it is nonsense.

"The charts look so complicated"
The charts have many squares and loads of numbers and annotations in them. "They look so complicated and intricate, they must be some truth to it!", one would think. No. It would be the same as believing an actor in an energy drink commercial , decked in white lab coats and spouting absurd terms like "Nutrient Mineral technology".

Science sounding, but not science
Many pseudosciences including astrology tend to use scientific sounding terms which may seem to lend credence, but in fact do not make any sense at all. Terms like energy, waves, quantum and such are scientific terms, but mean absolutely nothing when used in context of reflexology, reiki or other pseudosciences.

"But that prediction came true!"
Pure statistical chance. Also remember that the claims made by the astrologers are still very much in the realm of possible occurrences. Think about it. If an astrologer says your child will become a doctor, is it not possible to become a doctor? Is it so ridiculously improbable that the child will not become a doctor? No, of course not. If the astrologer says, something like Alien autopsy scientist at Roswell and then that happens, even then we need statistical proof before we can link correlation and causation. Which brings us to....

"My lucky shirt"
On days you wear your lucky green Nike T-shirt, you seem to have a great day. You see a pattern emerging. And so one day you declare that the correlation ( good days and lucky t-shirt) must be caused by wearing the T-shirt. WRONG. Many intelligent people make the mistake of attributing causation to an event when it really isn't so. You didn't become a doctor because the astrologer said so. You probably wanted to emulate your childhood role model or perhaps you had other noble reasons to do so. Just because you happened to fulfill the prophecy (detect sarcasm, people), doesn't mean the prophecy was real to begin with.

It's just that you happen to remember only the good days when you had the shirt on and be hazy recalling good days that you had without the lucky shirt, you're guilty of confirmation bias- wherein you recollect events that reinforce your ideology and neglect the ones that threaten that standpoint. This is also a good reason for why religion has stuck around for a long time. People tend to ignore the bloodshed, rape, genocide and misogyny in their holy texts that would normally sicken any person and stick to ideas that reinforce their belief in that deity or ideology.

A few thought experiments if you're still not convinced-
The case of identical twins- If time and position are really everything, why are the lives of twins so different, when it should really be the same, astrologically speaking?
The case of the camel at the zoo- Hypothetically speaking, if I were to provide an astrologer with data like latitudes, longitudes and other relevant data, he must be able to tell the future. What if I were to tell him that I just gave him the birth details of the camel at the local zoo? Will his prediction of the candidate going to medical school still hold true or will I have to tell the camel that his chances of becoming an orthodontist are slim?
Why do astrologers disagree? If you give the same chart to two, three or N number of astrologers, each of them come up with a different outcome. Why is that so, when the basic given data is the same? Of course astrologers hasten to add that they use corrections, different methods and that the astrologer is not a "true" astrologer. Kind of like a catholic abhorring a protestant and whom both accuse Mormons to be untrue Christians.
Show me the math!- The astrologers have no scientific basis of proving what they say. If someone gives you something delicious to eat and doesn't reveal the recipe, how can you be sure of what you just ate, was what he said it was to be? And even if they come up with vague explanations of "houses" and "charts", they hold no scientific backing. At the end of the day, the exact reason as to why the stars affect us is not disclosed!
It applies to everyone- The horoscopes in the paper for Scorpio applies equally well to a Libra or any other horoscope. How exactly is " Your boss will have a surprise for you", or" be careful with finances" specific exactly for people born between September 18 - November 22 and not for those born between November 23 to January 7? And think about it, it's kind of racist in a way to club people with established characteristics based just on their date of birth?
You think you know your Sun sign?- The Earth wobbles like a top. Therefore the sun rises on your birthday in a different constellation that what you'd imagine. So you're not really a Scorpio and if you thought you were sexy and enigmatic because of that, guess what, you aren't.

We are advanced life beings with an amazing plethora of information at our command: we have sent Man to the moon, we have invented nuclear weapons and we are closer to understanding and combating deadly diseases. Yet, the curiosity to see the future trumps all reason and common sense and we are slaves to irrationality in all its forms. We must arm ourselves with critical thinking and educate others about the same. It is difficult and ego-wrecking for someone who is a slave to astrological influences to admit they're believing and investing in Grade A bullshit. But it's something worth pursuing: to view all of life through skeptical lens.

A Waste of Scientific Curiosity

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 17:20:00 +0000

I took the science stream in school for a simple reason: I did not want to miss out on the knowledge of how the world works. I had questions that I needed answering. Physics would allow me to understand how the world worked, how planets revolved and yay verily how indeed the Universe itself is expanding rapidly; with the galaxies accelerating away from us as we speak. The night sky in the distant future would be devoid of stars and if humans lived on, we would never be able to confirm the Hubble effect, because light would have to travel such infinite distances to reach us, that it never would. I wanted to learn why water was a great solvent; how it could 'consume' anything, but not effectively destroy it. I wanted to unravel the mysteries of the elements, understand the chemical reactions and see how chemistry ruled over our lives. And finally I knew I wanted a career in biology, because the cell; the single most elemental component of a system was in its own right, the most complicated thing known to human kind. Even today we continue to find new cell pathways that continue to baffle and surprise scientists. Certain types of cells protect and some cause autoimmune disorders. There are so many checks and balances to ensure smooth cell reproduction. And most fascinating of all, there are still living fossils to this day that have remained unchanged over millions of years and there are bacteria that can be frozen in time,only to be revived later.

I have friends who regretted taking up the science stream in the 10th grade.
I have University acquaintances (I dare not say friends, as we've never shared anything of a bond from 2005-09) who probably curse the fact they took an intensive course in biotechnology when they only wanted to duck into an business course or turn themselves over to the coding giant that is TCS and CTS. I've known valedictorians from the biological field give up four years of hard work and enter the hip world of B-schools, where every picture henceforth is in black, imitation Armani suits with huge fake smiles plastered across their faces.

The last four years were to them, simply a mistake; a temporary lapse of judgement. And let me tell you one thing, they may have financial security, but they have sold out their scientific curiosity.
And that's a darn shame.

Edit: @Seeker of Truth: I would like to point out at this juncture that scientific curiosity is somewhat innate and to some extent environmentally induced. Everyone is curious as to how something works, but it depends on the individual as to to what measures he uses to answer a question. Some of us may be just satisfied with just asking someone for the answer and never verifying; some may look up Wikipedia; others read journals, but many others just shrug their shoulders and go "Who knows?". See, from a pragmatist's point of view, they see these as facts that they should accept and not read into any detail "Planets go around the sun, salt dissolves in water and we evolved from apes". As far as your query goes, our parents, our teachers and professors should constantly ask us to challenge our existing notion of the world around us. Never take anything for granted. And needless to say we live in an age where the sheer amount of knowledge available in print media and online affords no excuse for people to say they can't find the answers. Initiative is the key. We should encourage our youth in the universities to start science blogs and write something about which they're passionate about (I'm sorry that this cliched word crops up). More scientific magazines in our school's libraries including Popular Mechanics. And of course, good ol' shows with explosions, babes and science- Mythbusters!

@Prateek: Look, mate,you can be practical, but why did they take the course and then decide to do an MBA or code? Did they not read the market before they joined? Did they not know that big companies like Biocon or others may/may not show up and may not employ all 250 people in the Department? At the end of the day, I would like to be in the field I'm interested in. I don't diss these folks who took the fork in the road, but some of them paid a price: they ditched a subject they honestly loved all for the sake of temporary monetary security.

Empowering

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 20:10:00 +0000

Tell me- what would you do with 5000 rupees? Would you invest it wisely or piss it away?

Would you hide it from your husband who wreaks of alcohol and abuses you in a drunk stupor while your eldest son watches impotently? The bruises tell a story of what happens when he finds your secret stash; the money you saved up from the government aid that was given for when your youngest was cruelly taken away by a careless truck driver. A case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or rather at the right place at the wrong time. In death he has given his mother a new leash on life as far as finances goes, but his father simply drinks away the money that his scion's fatal encounter with the eternal Footman brings.

Tears flow unabated down the slightly puffy side of the maid's face. The swelling is prominent. Sort of like watching a bleeding, weeping aubergine. I wince at the thought. Here, standing before me, is a woman beaten and broken. Figuratively and literally. She is uneducated. Addition and subtraction are the best she can do. She is illiterate and cannot read or write much. It is a life that most of us would cringe at imagining, when we take reading and writing for granted. The System has left her far behind, while it boats of its "best and brightest" in its hallowed halls of learning. The System boasts the numbers of the Democracy, but its voice is still muffled.

Tomorrow,I will pay for her passport-size picture to be taken. I will help her fill out the forms and open a bank account for her. I will aid her in safe guarding her hard earned money. I will teach her how to sign her name if needed. I will help her to take her life back into her hands and give her some semblance of control.

I will empower her.

The Salesmen

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 17:15:00 +0000

Zen and Hatchet sat outside the cafe for a change. The blood red Dog Star in the dusk sky was suspended in place while Crescent was rising from the horizon. Dusk on Late Earth was indeed a sight to behold. The waiter arrived with two cups of pale, watery liquid and placed them on the table with a flourish and vanished as quickly as he came.
Zen knew that his partner and friend wasn't the talkative type, but there were rumors going around the office and he needed intel. Nixon punched his employees, over-worked them and used language that would make a Neptunian sailor look like a saint. And that was when he was in a good mood. The Federation was denied funds and Nixon had to let people go. Zen was a worry wart which was ironical, given the origins of his name. While he was ruminating over what an asshole their boss was, Hatchet had already started drinking. Zen, in a hurry to catch up with his friend, started choking on the white beverage. Hatchet nodded disapprovingly.
"Forgot your taste capsule I take it? I don't envy you."
The last coffee had been brewed almost twenty years back. Since then, capsules were manufactured that were added to a watery base- they used the drinker's memories of coffee to simulate the taste. Zen now knew two things: that the next generation would never taste coffee because they would have never tasted the real deal and that the "coffee" tasted like diluted white adhesive without the capsule.
"Bob has twenty four hours to pack his things and leave the Federation. And I'm sure more people are going to follow suit if sales don't pick up." said Hatchet.

Zen swallowed hard, but the "coffee" didn't do well to remove the taste of adhesive from his throat. He had barely managed to sell a neural prosthetic arm. With the arm you can lift half a ton of Ultra-Osmium without breaking a sweat. But if there's one thing that hasn't changed over the centuries: people are still testosterone driven dicks when it comes to the price tag. At this rate, he was going to follow in Bob's shameful footsteps.

"Zen could have well been drinking adhesive straight from the bottle. He glared at Hatchet with utter contempt."

Perhaps Hatchet was having bad luck too. Hatchet wasn't exactly known for being serious. If taking the piss could have a mascot, it would be him hands down. But he had a glint in his eyes.

"I sold an Opteryx Retinal complex" he said smugly.
Zen could have well been drinking adhesive straight from the bottle. He glared at Hatchet with utter contempt. An Opteryx Retinal Complex! It was one of the priciest objects on the catalogue! It would taken a lot of smooth talking and a lot of money to get that baby sold.
"Congratulations." Zen spluttered awkwardly. Thoughts of Nixon parading Hatchet in front of the office tomorrow came to mind.
Poor Bob. Poor Zen.
Bye Bob. Bye Zen.
Arrivederci, au revoir and sayonara.
"Told him that it allowed the user to see colors more intensely and sharply. Told him to think of seeing the world like a 1620p HD television, only hundreds of times better. Yeah, at first the human thought it was expensive, but when I threw in the surgery and installation for free, he was sold."
Zen looked over the rim of the cup with a look of utter disbelief and disgust.
"You.... sold an Opteryx to a human?"
"Yep. Got the contract signed and all."
"Hatchet! That is for exclusive use by the Martians! A mere human can't endure a Retinal complex! His brain will be fried from the sheer enormity of sensory input. He'll bleed to death from his eyes, for chrissakes!"
"That may be the case, but guess who's not getting fired tomorrow?" said Hatchet, leaving the table. He carelessly dropped a few Defrancs as a tip for the waiter.
What a bastard, thought Zen. But as even this thought registered, it was replaced by a primal, desperate urge to know the perfect sales pitch Hatchet used to convince a man to buy something that would ultimately kill him.

Mylo Xyloto

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 12:25:00 +0000

It's no Rush of Blood to the Head if that's what you're hoping against hope.
What it is, is a departure of musical styles, inspiration, genre and album art from when they exploded onto the music scene in 2000 with Parachutes.

Their previous album Viva la Vida was named after a painting celebrating the July Revolution. The title was poetic and resonated strongly with the overall theme. But Mylo Xyloto is indeed a strange name for a pet gerbil let alone your magnum opus. Chris Martin wants it pronounced /ˈmaɪloʊ ˈzaɪlətoʊ/ and when Stephen Colbert quizzed him on its origin on his October 20,2011 edition of The Colbert Report, a clearly amused Martin pointed heavenwards and said it to be derived from the randomness of the Universe.

Without batting an eyelid, Colbert remarked: "Chris, are you high?"
To which Martin responded cheekily, "I'm 17% high."

This is a concept album, meaning that all the songs and the artwork is inspired by a central theme: in this case it's the White Rose intelligentsia movement against Nazism in Munich. But come on, at the end of the day, you need a eye-catching album art for the sleeve. What we get is a motley of loud, abrasive colors and graffiti with the album's name written on top in a large, intimidating capitol font.

This album sees Coldplay moving into a completely new genre: electro-pop. The lyrics are quite generic and seek to infuse a playful positivism with each listen. The trademark "Whoa-oh!"'s get thrown in and the songs look like they're handcrafted for maximum anthem potential in a crowded stadium or arena where the crowd can clap and "Whoa-oh!" with the band at live concerts. Paradise seems like a good example of this.
"Para-para-paradise. Oh-oh-oh-a-oh-oh!!!!"

Every Teardrop is a Waterfall is equally peppy and Martin stretches out the words for full sing a long effect. Princess of China features a roped in cameo from Rihanna and while usually Rihanna's sultry and suggestive voice adds a touch of Radio Hit magic, their voices on the same track didn't quite jive. Add to the fact, that centrist fans are already irked by the departure in musical style must be bemused over roping in a mainstream pop diva. But Coldplay didn't sell out; they simply wanted a female singer to sing the parts of the female "character" in the song's story. Remember when I said that the album is a concept work? The story is a "Romeo-and-Juliet"-esque tale of two lovers who throw caution and societal reproaches to the wind and dare to find each other against the odds. Awwwww.....

But there are some excellent songs that exhibit Martin's beautiful voice, namely Up in Flames and Up with the Birds. I only hoped that their album would have more songs like these than pop-heavy ones.

Final thoughts: Coldplay as a band have evolved from their beginnings in 2000 and in 10 years they have bravely and successfully explored different areas of instrumentation and style. While this has kept some fans happy and attracted new followers for their courage to explore new horizons, it has disillusioned other fans who feel that the band has moved too far away from its roots; that which inspired the classics Yellow, Clocks and The Scientist. Or perhaps Coldplay has the confidence to experiment because of its unwavering fan-base.
Reflecting on the lyrics of Major Minus-

"It's just us against the world

And we just gotta turn up to be heard"

Christopher Hitchens' reading list

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 17:54:00 +0000

I had intended to write about the books that I'm reading currently but something caught my eye on the Nirmukta website and I had to share it.

The Hitch is back after many months!

One of the greatest journalists of our time and a vocal critic of organized religion and its evils, Christopher was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and later revealed he was extremely ill backstage on the Jon Stewart Show.
Earlier this year he lost his speaking voice and so couldn't attend the American Atheists Convention and had to deliver a letter encouraging the "heirs of the secular revolution" to keep up the walls of separation of Church and State that President Jefferson enshrined in the Law of the Land.
But to a man like Christopher; a man who is passionate about speaking his mind and "hitchslapping" his debaters, the reality of losing his voice was far more depressing than his impending visit by the eternal Footman. This is evident in his Vanity Fair Column:

"Deprivation of the ability to speak is more like an attack of impotence, or the amputation of part of the personality. To a great degree, in public and private, I “was” my voice. " - Unspoken Truths, Vanity Fair June 2011

Christopher was awarded the Dawkins award by Richard Dawkins himself in Houston, Texas. And he graced the occasion because he was doing better and even spoke to the audience gathered and took questions.
But it was the question posed by an eight-year old girl by the name of Mason Crumpacker that Christopher really was taken with. She simply asked the man,

"What books should I read?"

Hitchens then asked the girl and her mother to meet him after the event to talk to personally. And true to his word, the man; frail from chemotherapy and sickness, spent a good amount of time asking Mason the books she read (Harry Potter and Phillip Pullman) and suggested a few books himself.

Here's the list!
Richard Dawkins’ Magic of Reality
Greek and Roman mythology- Robert Graves
Satirical works and all works of Shakespeare
Works of Geoffrey Chaucer
Ayaan Hirsi Ali
PG Wodehouse (“Sunset at Blandings”)
David Hume for philosophy
Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities.

Here's hoping that Christopher will have many more years ahead of him and will inspire us with his wit, wisdom and charm. For the world will truly be a darker place without the Hitch around.

The story of how I did every conceivable thing on the planet- EXCEPT meeting your Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 19:25:00 +0000

CC By ND 2.0 Alacoolb

Ladies and gentlemen, this will be a rant about a once beloved show that introduced us to lovable, quirky characters and the story of their lives- all while examining the premise of how the narrator meets his wife; aka the mother of his two children.

If you are going- "Oh Jesus, he's not gonna bitch about a show no one takes seriously anymore is he? That's so lame."- I partly agree with you and will excuse you until the next post. But for those who stick around, I rant because the show clearly is about two seasons in over its prime and it has jumped the shark. "Jumping the shark" - is an idiom that is used to describe the irreversible decline of a popular television series. Once a series "jumps the shark", it's dying and no amount of epinephrine can jump start the show to its former glory. And we can also sense the lack of interest in the show as it progresses- a friend of mine so OBSESSED with the show, that every conversation starter was "Do you have the latest episode of HIMYM?" followed by the whipping out of a flash drive, now asks me with an air of disbelief if I'm still watching. And once an audience tires of the show, they should just put it out of its misery. HIMYM is one of those shows where the writers have teased us into watching just so that our curiosity can be sated once the Mother character is revealed. We're dragged through season after season where often pointless stories of every other character are vivisected into oblivion, while the show's central premise is barely addressed.

At the start of the show the focus was clearly on Ted Mosby; the man who believed in true-love; who quoted poetry; believed in destiny and who lovingly remembered the events that led to meeting the woman of his dreams. I really wanted Robin Scherbatsky to be the one, I honestly did. They shared a strong chemistry and that worked really well on screen. Cue in the lovey-dovey couple who knew they were meant for each other from the beginning and a dysfunctional sex maniac who actually stole the show despite his disgustingly shallow view of women and relationships.

Now, Ted Mosby has turned into an annoying and whining architect and has dated almost as many women as Barney Stintson and STILL hasn't gotten any where close to finding the one. To the point that every time some woman is shown dating Ted, we know that she isn't the Mother and that she's going to dump Ted, marry someone else or quite possibly commit suicide at the end of the season. Stella was probably the most disliked character on the show. And why did they even introduce Jennifer Morrison as a ditsy hippie love interest? She gave up House MD for this?

Robin Scherbastsky was a woman who knew what she wanted: a strong career before love. At the start of the series she commanded a sexual prowess that was alluring. Now, she's dated Barney of all people and in the latest episode, Kal Penn ( House MD redux?)- it looks like she'll date just about anybody and that's just so sad for Colbie's character on the show. We lost a strong, independent woman.

"We're dragged through season after season, where often pointless stories of every other character are vivisected into oblivion, while the show's central premise is teasingly addressed." ________________

Lily and Marshall are well...still Lily and Marshall. They are possibly the two characters on the show who I liked throughout because they're quite made for each other. The credit card debacle, the DOWISATREPLA incident and the bring-Marshall-his-spare-pants incident- were all pure gold. They did get trying on one's nerves at times- the accented "You son of a beetch" and the over the top routines, but all in all, they are still the backbone of the show;
probably the only adults in the group.

Barney Stintson. While I guiltily and ashamedly admit my love of his misogynistic antics in the beginning of the series, I was a little pessimistic when he was going to settle with Robin of all people. I love that that the writers are trying to make Barney grow up and be a man but the addition of Nora in the previous season who suddenly becomes a serious love interest for Barney is too hastily done to warrant belief. And he was willing to dump her because she hadn't seen Star Wars? How juvenile can you get?

So where does this leave us? We have seen the evolution of the cast of happy-go-lucky New Yorkers from their simple beginnings to where they are today. Marshall and Lily are married and are expecting; Ted is still looking for love, a yellow umbrella, that hot chick's even hotter room-mate whose ankles alone are proof of her existence; Robin has hit rock bottom in love and Barney is trying to grow up while still having commitment issues. These may as well be the stories of our own lives: how we lost what's precious to us; our first child with a loved one; the trials and tribulations of following your dreams and striking it big in a sleepless and unforgiving city and the adventures of rediscovering love,friendship and family at every corner. Heart warming isn't it?

That's all well and good, but I don't give a rat's ass about all that anymore- who's the MOTHER, god-dammit?!

The Books of Christmas Past

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 20:34:00 +0000

J.R.R Tolkien da morto by bluinfaccia under CC BY 2.0

Books.

They're more than just bound sheets of paper; they're the living, breathing imaginations of countless writers and poets who've changed the way we look at ourselves and our world. Mythical lands, fantastic,outlandish characters and despicable villains are never too far away in children's books while torrid love affairs, racing plots and assassination threats by shadowy organizations abound in novels for the adults.

When I was a kid, the library was the place I was always looked forward to visiting. Our school library was in a part of the main building that overlooked a small tributary of a rather unpleasant river. The library received little sunlight even during the harsh Indian summers and had a dank and musty overture; reminiscent of a medieval dungeon. But probably the appeal lay in the almost hidden away little room, a little to the left as we made our way into the library. It was filled with history books about historical figures; about C.Rajagopalachari, Gandhi and Nehru; it had wonderful, colorful atlases and large globes with faded colors that revealed distant and unheard of lands (Reykjavik, anyone?), but most importantly you could have a moment's solitude with the ancient wooden shelves that housed these tomes of knowledge: a sort of private moment between a novice; thirsting for enlightenment and a sensei mastered in the ways of the world. The moment lingers in my memory even today as I remember flipping through the yellowing pages; its distinct aging fragrance wafting in the still air. I couldn't completely grasp the gist of what was written in many of the books, but I was content to know that one day that I would be able to take these down from their high shelves and settle down into a chair and immerse in them.

"...you could have a moment's solitude with the ancient wooden shelves that housed these tomes of knowledge."

________________

As children we read Applegate's Animorphs series and some of us, including myself, got our hands on the Everworld series. I was (and still am) a voracious reader and I remember reading Bram Stoker's Dracula and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit back in the eight and eleventh grade respectively. It is of course a guilty pleasure to admit that I share Christopher Tolkien's birthday and am an alumnus from the institution where his father- the incomparable and illustrious J.R.R Tolkien, held a professorial role in the School of English Studies. I can say with great conviction that my appreciation and command of the English language was guided by the invisible hands of these and many more great authors. The hours spent in the library at BRV during my formative years was without doubt crucial in developing my love and respect for books and their authors.

Of course, I'm still reading now, but my taste in books has changed markedly; the choices reflect my (ir)religious and political inclinations. I also read slower than usual; mulling over the words of the author, sometimes wondering if he used just those words for a purpose. So what kind of books do I read now?
That's for another post- The Books of Christmas Present.

There'll be some math...

noreply@blogger.com (Vyaas) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 08:22:00 +0000

Over the years I've compiled a mental list of favourite physical phenomena, each of which I'd like to discuss in the coming weeks. Before that though, I'd like to share a thought.

While investigating a phenomenon, one would like to base their findings within some logical framework. That framework should pass the test of unambiguity. A language of sorts. In science, that language is mathematics. It can be intimidating to the uninitiated because it is sadly always conflated with complexity. A phenomenon doesn't become any more complicated because of an equation. On the contrary, it becomes simpler. An equation is invariably a sum of terms or combination of operators of/on quantities. These are mere packaging strategies to compartmentalize cause and effect. Ofcourse, a knowledge of what each of the terms in an equation signify is crucial. I will employ this theme of passive quantification in future writings.

After "figuring" it out, we should be able to simplify our arguments according to who we're talking to. ACCORDING to who we're talking to. I cannot stress this enough. There are different levels of understanding and rationalizing something. So for instance, I cannot speak about ergodicity to an undergrad engineering student who is still grappling with the second law of thermodynamics, but I can still get the idea of irreversibility across using Carnot engines, splattering eggs or economic recessions.

So we'll try and keep things simple in the following weeks, but not simpler. Sometimes a simple analog will not exist. That's when your intuition stands conflicted, but only because you've never seen such a thing before. And that's perfectly normal.

Bye-bye Sparky

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 20:19:00 +0000

Sleepy Eyed by skycaptaintwo. Used under CC BY 2.0

Jim has on that repulsive plaid shirt and the suspenders that barely keeps his pants on. He calls out to me and suggests we go for a walk. A suggestion in name only. I have no right to refuse. He gets the collar out and I reluctantly let him latch it around my neck. He gets the shotgun and loads it with buckshot. We're going duck hunting, though I honestly don't have the strength in me to fetch the kill. I'm old enough in dog years. How old, you ask? I don't know. My memory isn't what it used to be. But I'm ancient even by human standards. It was indeed a long time when I used to fetch the paper, chase the ravens that perched by the window sill and sleep at the foot of Jim's bed.

We reached the deep of the woods. The pines around us stood solemnly; towering giants that cast ominous shadows on the ground. The sun was setting in the sky and daylight was fading quickly. I squinted to adjust my old eyes to the light. Why the hell would Jim drag me all the way here to hunt ducks after sunset? It didn't make sense. Behind me Jim was loading the shotgun with buckshot. The sound sent a strange chill up my spine. And finally the truth penetrated the fog in my head and I knew what was going to happen next.

"Behind me Jim was lading the shotgun with buckshot. The sound sent a strange chill up my spine."

________________

I started to run; it was no use, my old legs wouldn't save me from the buckshot a mere fix feet away, but I had to try.

“Bye bye Sparky. You were a good boy”, I heard Jim say and after a pregnant pause, a single shot was fired and I hit the ground and the pain made me feel more alive than ever even though it was killing me. I could feel the warmth of the blood around and the smell of it made me sick. I tried to crawl away but Jim was right behind me to get one last shot in to seal the deal.

And right after the bastard shoots me twice, he drops the gun and starts sniveling like a child.

I never did understand Jim and I don't think I ever will.

Goodbye Mr.Jobs

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 05:32:00 +0000

Steve Jobs 1955-2011

"No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true."

The world has lost a great human being who has achieved so much in over five decades that only few of us can dare to imagine. He was a hard taskmaster and expected the best from the people who worked for him and let his products and ideas speak for themselves. We bid farewell to the man whose brainchild revolutionized the way we listen to our music, perform our computing and call our loved ones on a mobile phone.

update

noreply@blogger.com (Vyaas) — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 07:00:00 +0000

First of.
My condolences to Nikhil on the loss of his grandfather. He was a very special person in Nikhil's life; evident in the way his eyes would light up before cherishing an anecdote or two with me on any given rooftop. Stay strong bro. Most people can only contemplate having such a healthy relationship with their grandparents.

Secondly.
I think I'll blog again. The reason I'd stopped isn't apparent any more. I will return to writing physics and slightly less controversial political commentary.

Thirdly.
Nikhil has done an excellent job with the blog while I was gone. He has taken it farther than I would have ever imagined. While my writer's block was becoming more of a writer's coma, he stayed disciplined and dedicated to this writing exercise and now has a book to his name. Readers take note. Good things happen to passionate, hard working people. Do not confuse this hard work with hard work though. This perceived hard work of Nikhil's is really play to him. So by work hard, I mean play hard.

Lastly.
I am a PhD student now and I love what I do. I pursue science and I am at peace with myself. I get a stipend for reading and practicing physics. For me it is the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to peer into the workings of the universe and derive the thrill of discovery every day, more importantly self discovery. I'd like to preserve in writing, if not share , some of this awesomeness I pretend to understand. Since I'm practically coming back from the dead, I'd like to start small and try to pull off a weekly posting. As always, I encourage discussion and feedback. I was reading some of my past posts earlier today and couldn't help laughing at how childish I'd been. I guess we're all like that. We grow up.

I'll leave you with this pic of a young Max Plank, taken 22 years before his great revelation.

Dashing eh?

In Memoriam

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 15:30:00 +0000

Photo by Kankan, used under a (CC BY 2.0) licence.

The blood in my veins freezes every time I hear my mobile phone go off. For two days I’ve been expecting the call from my mom confirming the worst. I expect to pick up the phone to hear my mother’s distorted voice from a seemingly faraway place, uttering the words I dread to hear. I imagine myriad voices in the background: my grandmother’s wails of despair, my mother’s incoherent words mixed with sobs, the nurse whose sensitivities are numbed by years of service trying to usher my family out of Intensive Care and the doctor who dispenses hollow platitudes in a vain attempt to assure that my grandfather is in God’s hands now.

I imagine the sea of faces, both familiar and not, visit our domicile to give their condolences. Grandpa would lay in his iced casket- a mute spectator-to the throng of relatives, friends and neighbours who would linger over him, shedding tears and consoling my aggrieved mother. My uncle would have to steady his heart and heed the instructions of the scholars schooled in the traditional wisdom of commending souls to their creators. There would be elaborate rituals involving sandalwood, holy ash, silver vessels and water. There will be womenfolk crying silently into their saris. I too would be standing in the corner observing the grim proceedings and holding my mother’s hand whilst holding back my tears. The time would come when Grandpa would have to be carried out to be “witnessed” by all, one last time. The assembled gathering would place grains of rice near his mouth as a token of respect before he is taken away and his ashes subsequently liberated to the very womb of Nature itself- the ocean. After which the unbearable silence of the household would trigger memories of immeasurable sadness for years to come.

The ringing of the phone brings me back to reality.

I pick it up and I listen.

Oh no.

Oh no.

The Death of a Goldfish

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 16:47:00 +0000

Image by Jeff Chin under CC-Attribution-No Derivative Works licence.

Sadness is an upturned goldfish in a fishbowl, glistening gold in the morning sun.

Sadness is evident from the tears that flow down Millie’s face as she discovers Mr.Goldy lying still in the water.

And sadness is of course my inability to bring her fish back to life. Explaining the specter of death to a six year old child is difficult. Just yesterday, she was feeding the fish and tapping gently at the sides of the fish bowl to make him do a trick.

Today, he lies lifeless; locked forever in the illusion of performing the trick she wanted so badly to see.

Millie runs straight into my arms sobbing inconsolably; a deep hacking, guttural sound that comes from the deepest part of her. The sheer raw pain echoes in that cry and her tears flow unabated like torrential rains. All I can do is to pull her close to me and make gentle soothing sounds and hope that my little six year old daughter’s heart won’t break.

‘It’s alright’, I say again and again, repeating the phrase like a mantra while rocking her gently back and forth. She refuses to look at Mr.Goldy .

‘We need to say goodbye to him’ I say.

"...the poor dead fish buried in a musty white box a few feet below the moist, dark earth."

‘Don’t wanna’ she replies in between short gasps.

‘You want what’s best for him right?’ I ask. She nods her head silently. ‘Good girl’ I say and kiss her on the cheek gently.

We look together for a box to bury Mr.Goldy in. I find the white shoebox in the cupboard that came with the brown suede shoes that I’m wearing. I look at Millie and she makes a sad face, but a burial is the best way to go. Millie gently scoops out the goldfish and puts him into the box. I go to get my spade and I start digging in our backyard. When I think its deep enough, the neighbor’s black cat appears ominously in my field of vision.

I dig another couple of feet.

We both place the box tenderly into the shallow hole I'd dug and after a grim moment we lay Mr.Goldy to rest. I step back after piling on the last bit of black dirt into the hole, which is now a grave.

You were a good goldfish. It was just your time to go.

Millie's eyes cloud up and she sobs gently but does her best to hide her tears by wiping them away with the backhand of her pink sweater. I kneel down and put my arm gently around her shoulders and pull her in close and we mourn silently.

“He's in a better place, Millie.”

It’s what anyone would say.

Millie looks over the fresh grave and then into my eyes and addresses me in her most vulnerable and innocent voice- “Really, Dad?”

I regret it already.

I tear my gaze from hers and stare at the grave; the poor dead fish buried in a musty white box a few feet below the moist, dark earth.

Cold, unfeeling and lonely.

And for the life of me, I cannot bear to look into her sweet black eyes and repeat my filthy lie.

Block

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 19:10:00 +0000

It appears that I have a temporary case of writer’s block. I do have a piece on hand, but I want it absolutely perfect before I post it here.

That, plus the internship and studying for the Japanese certification exam isn’t helping the writing process.

So excuse me for a bit while I seek a bit of inspiration from Nature, the people around us or a glass of Jack Daniels.

Fun with Spiderman memes

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 11:47:00 +0000

If you’ve not seen these before, they’re a real hoot. There was a Spiderman animated series back in the 1960’s but the animation was terrible, the plot was horrendous and for all purposes it was a low budget, badly drawn train-wreck. Perfect meme gold.

The meme essentially consists of a Spiderman screenshot with a Bold Impact font that exploits the image. There are plenty of good screen captures here and there are online meme generators. Or simply use Photoshop if you have it on your PC or Mac. Font size 48, all caps and in bold gives the best results!

And voila, here are some of my creations.

Gokulam Magazine- 10 years back!

noreply@blogger.com (Nikhil Rajagopalan) — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 17:49:00 +0000

I was fishing around my book rack when I discovered I had a few pages of Gokulam Magazine dated 1999!
And to my glee it was a Undir Family story! I thought that I might upload a page just for the sheer nostalgia.

The Undir Family stories were always special to me. I remember one issue where the Undir family won an all expense paid trip to a luxurious hotel, Brother Undir had too much room service and had a stomach ache, while the rest of the family had a swim in the pool on the terrace while it was drizzling!