Is there another tide?

Is there another tide?
'Have waited for a long time,
The stills of dying sun-shines
Reflect a young me, passing by.

Wish I had a horse to ride
Along the beach, they call Paradise
And a gun tied to my seat
To wake up from the dream.

I see pages raining before me
And I chase with an uplifted spirit
Without fear, thoughts and anxiety
Is there another tide left for me?

Wouldn't I lose myself in its arms?
Rise with it to the imposing heaven,
Heel myself with the touch of life
And be thrown back down to die...

Till the next poem;

'Where is my mind?'

Hello time-wasting, self-destructing brilliant scholars of India! Welcome once again to my blog where you can safely spend the next few minutes of your fruitless existence in some bizarre hope of entertainment. I am a self loathing hypocritical narcissist. Well, you aren't, are you? Surely not! You are the blessed product of evolution whose grey cells are no better than scrambled eggs. Wait! Am I putting you off? Don't leave.....please.. I need you. You are my audience. Please listen to me...Please, I beg you. I hereby declare without a hint of sarcasm that this writer needs readers like blood needs the eighth element. How much ever full of shit you are, whatever disaster you cause through your observations, you are my reflection.

Do you want to hear a funny story? I live in a country where from our very childhood we hear about the great history of the pre-historic times- how the Vedas are the source of every knowledge, modern or ancient, how Mahabharata mentions nuclear weapons, how meditation allowed sages to live for centuries... a knowledge basket, as if the very purpose of being born was to be born in this country. Such values...such traditions, such benevolence, such violence, such deceit and such shameful portrayal of laws! Laws never change, so we must write epics underlining these 'values' to run a civilized society! Truly, the way to go, dear forefathers! Job well done.

We bask in the glory of our past and we worship dishonesty as the virtue of our existence. Take for example a premier research institute of India. The government has been kind enough to rain money on this institute in figures of hundreds of crores each year! Hundreds of crores, Each Year. Today, for some reason the same institute can't afford to pay its phone bills and electricity bills. Two days ago it threw out 140 temporary workers in a 2-days' notice. 140, fucking One Four Zero people made jobless in a day! Surely, something has been going horribly wrong here. But who gives a fuck, really! Our values have led to this day, haven't they? All lines coincide at one point. Power. Some have it, others don't. Those who possess it can lie, cheat and steal (I remember you, Eddie!) and strike off the names of those who don't have it. The funny cycle of reality. I saw this once before. I remember when all of a sudden the two best teachers of my school were thrown out without notice. I am watching the disgusting misuse of power once again!

I helplessly ask myself, what if Tyler Durden was right? What if God really doesn't like us?

How about some fiction now? There is a state in some country called I-NDA. The state is known as Filthy-United-Cartoons-to-Kill-and-Eject-Democracy-by-Useless-Painter or FUCKED UP in short. FUCKED UP is ruled by a drama-queen named Satota. Satota has many brothers, most of whom are either in jail or in hospital. Today I-NDA is a host to not only diverse cultures and religions but also a variety of Waves. Some prominent waves have names such as 'hawa-bodol', 'moody wave', etc. For some miscalculations that took place on either side, the central and state leaderships are now at loggerheads. If compared to a human body, in I-NDA, Centre would be the brain and FUCKED UP would be literally one of the sore middle fingers. The finger needs an antibiotic treatment and thus one has the medicine, a Central-Crime-Fucking-Unit (CCFU). I-NDA is also a terror-struck country with utmost hatred towards terrorists. To make matters worse, FUCKED UP also appears to have links with such culprits! In this fiction, I hope for a happy ending, Tarantino style. Blow up the motherfuckers to dust! It should be done in such an elegant and convincing way that it should evoke no pity whatsoever in the audience but a satisfaction so extreme that the theater should ring with deafening applause.

The End. Piss Off.

                 p.s. : 

140 people made jobless by those who themselves caused the deficit of money! So much for the Vedas.

A Ballad of Promises

The knife hit me and I died
And then flew a drop of my blood...
                I never saw it leave
                I never sensed it could
                Fade the pages of time
                And gather wings on road.

                It never mixed with dust
                It never held a sword
                In a never ending dream
                Formed a world of its own.

And then my darling stood on me
She took aim for one last time
I could see the trigger slide
And I looked into her eyes.

                Deep, dark, beckoning eyes
                A promise, another disguise;
                The trigger rolls back in time
                That bullet shall never fly.

You see my gun, o yeah!
And you know your last ride
I didn't choose the bullet
But the magic of surprise.

              You fall on your knees
              You look at me as if I've sinned
              But I never chose to be
              Just another memory.

So my love, here I leave
We part till we next meet
In some shady hut, some frozen street
I'll kill you as you please.

The N-Galaxy: Object F9

-Dad, can we land on the stars up there?

-Yes, son. We can.

-But grandpa said that it's impossible!

-Do you see that star over there? The brightest of our sky. There's someone who reached beyond that.

-Really?

-Yes. Would you like to see how?

As the eight year old kid nodded in awe, I carried him in my arms to my study. I opened my DVD drawer and smiled back at him. It was time for his initiation.

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

As human beings are we simply meant to reproduce and keep populating the planet or is there something worthy of being chased that we should seek, even if without answers, till one generation merges into another? Speaking in Christopher Nolan's language, we always have a choice. Nothing but our own actions determine our future. WE get to decide what we'll have. Surely a privileged class, aren't we? Spoiled with more chances than we can handle what if there comes a day when the choices are suddenly taken away? 

Voila! Welcome to the grandeur of Nolan Galaxy. This galaxy, like any true galaxy is mostly dark with dots of light scattered throughout in order to pave way for the signature of life - you know right what it is? - hope.

In this darkness we are asked repeatedly not to go gently. May be the creator never meant mankind to be gentle - hence the arrogance, ambition, wars and civilizations; progress manifested through layers and layers of evolution.

Oh you saw a man being trapped inside a Black Hole (Big term!) and then getting rescued as well! Stupid, right? But did you consider replacing science with hope and man with mankind? Did you even bother to think that there was a time when man would only know about killing wild animals for his survival? The man back then would not know that the moon was reachable but why would he care? You surely know where I'm getting at, don't you? O, the comparisons of past and future! Does it really matter whether the totem falls or not ? A Black Hole - something that doesn't even allow light to escape... Oooo...scary!! How dare the director allow a freaking human being to escape? Cancel, we must his artistic license! How dare he believe that a powerful conscience (Do not go gentle, remember?) can rescue humanity from the clutches of Ignorance? Film lovers, we are. At least, we claim to be.

I thoroughly enjoyed a film that took me back to my childhood when everything was assumed to be possible. But then, reality has served dust over dust over decades. A child's universe had long since decided to hibernate until someone docks at the relevant station and wakes him up, even him momentarily.

What is reality? The mathematics that we are able to solve, the lust for power, the moving life forms all around us, what exists in our textbooks - isn't our reality just what we believe it to be? Why is then an imagination, a dream not equally real? If your sub-conscious shows you images of you steering a spaceship or living inside the Sun, how can you even call it unreal? Doesn't just the choice of believing make all the difference? We speak of science, of Einstein, of relativity. What about the reference frames in the Imagination space?

Memento. Inception. Interstellar. The Choice is the reality.

Do I believe in the subsequent giant leaps of mankind? Oh yes, certainly. I'm probably one of the optimists, one of the "Greater Fools (for reference, watch The Newsroom, Season 1, Episode 10)" of this generation(- an interval along the time axis where the higher dimensions are neglected for the ease of calculations, for the laziness of the privileged!). 

 Edmund, eh? Mt. Everest, anyone? Can't we hope that our next leap at least takes us to the highest point, which is yet firmly grounded?

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

-I wish I landed on Miller's planet, Dad.

-Would you not be afraid of the waves?

-If I know when to take off, what's there to be afraid of?

I was about to say, 'An improper take off ,may be'. But I caught myself. I saw an optimist in him that I never was. 

-What about the Gargantua? Would you pay it a visit?

-Only if you come with me!

-I might have to leave for Edmund's planet.

-Then I'll either come with you or stay here with mom.

Someday son, I thought, you'd have to visit the Gargantua on your own! And then he asked the question of all questions...

-What's a sphere?

Fair is foul and foul is Shakespeare.

Hai apna dil to awara, na jaane kis pe ayega!

I have heard this song innumerable times; Dev Anand, with his andaaz wooing a more than beautiful Waheeda Rehman. By chance, I happened to see a link which read, 'Hai apna dil to awara (sad version)'. Now, I haven't seen Solva Saal (the movie, info for the hatke cinemawalas). So I was a little intrigued on seeing the link. Can a song that has always been associated with happiness and carefree attitude be also portrayed in an entirely opposite mood? Only then did I realise that it's how you sing that makes all the difference!

Well, that was the prologue AND it has absolutely nothing to do with whatever I'm going to write now.

I am a Senior Research Fellow of this blessed country- the sentence can be read with as much cynicism as one likes but it has been written with absolute conviction.

I am a  narcissist. I love myself. I am not necessarily selfish.

Recently there was an announcement by the Government of India about modified research scholarships. Well, in a society where money dictates the amount of respect for someone's work, this seems like a welcome change, doesn't it? I remember being asked by a person just after I had got into my PhD program, ' toder okhane basic research koto ta hoy?' The person I'm talking about teaches at some neglected college in my state. He never even went for his PhD. I was angry, a little disappointed even but I remember having replied with 'hoy motamuti'. Contrary to many people's beliefs, I do have some social values.

 Well, a few days later, a classmate said to me, 'Saha te kano thakbi? PhD ta gnaare mara jabe.' I was angry and I was extremely disappointed! I had my own personal problems to deal with at that time and I chose not to reply.

Time and again I have heard so many negative things about the PhD process. A good student once told me that PhD life is nothing but boring! I was dumbstruck. This made me wonder whether there is something seriously wrong with the process or is there a problem, albeit small, with the mindset?

Honestly, who cares? I love what I do. Personally speaking, amar dwara r kicchu hoto na! Precisely, there isn't anything else I ever thought of doing with my life. I love my life and I mean it. I value every single breath that I take. Sala ekdin morei jabo... tokhon ki chera jabe amar icche, anicche, akankha, bhalobasha diye? PhD life does not suck. It keeps me and many more like me Awake and Alive.

Simple living and high thinking, eh? I am yet to understand what 'high thinking' means. About 'simple living', well, there isn't anything to be said.

Talking about Physics, Interstellar is about to hit the screens worldwide. Unfortunately, everyone would be understanding time warps in a week. If only they understood that Pi had a great Life!

"Nothing is just... Nothing." Read, for reference, the prologue, again.

Is winter really coming?

Britter o-par

Dupure kheye uthe amar beriye porar abhyesh
Rod er ashirbaad-e moner asha bol pay
Chokhe apekkha ektu ektu kore byasto hoye othe
Halka bhoy er aanch buke kamaan dage.

Keshtopur-e niyom moto ekhon jibon cholche
Koto manush bus theke neme khal perote prostut
Dhulo, bali, hawa sob nijer niyom-e boddho/mukto
Sudhu buk-tai aj shitol hoye muchre ache.

Jodi hothat abar shei daak sona jeto
Pa jekhane nije thekei chhute chole jay
Jokhon prithibir uposthiti upekkhar soman,
Ek ek muhurto dekhay nijer amulyatar proman.

He Gotanugotik jibon;
tomar britter gayeo chidro ache jantam na.
Boro shunyer hawa
ebhabei meshe choto shunyer sathe;

Choto shunyo! Shunyo hoyeo bartaman.

Punye kon paap?

Aj ekla boro kobi

sobhyota gaye lagche na

soundarjo mekhe nite chay

shorir er protiti kona-y

uttap chhorate chay shantir bashay.

Bichaar korte chute elo ei sobai

Kobir ki shei adeem nesha chai?

toyakka nei; toke chay pranpone

keno chaibe na? kobi ki poshu noy?

Dupurer grihodahe toke chay

Raatrer sheetolotay toke chay

R(h)arer nasokotay toke chay

Snigdho chumbone toke chay

Rokter agnisrote toke chay

Deergho alingone toke chay

Osther barnanay toke chay

Tor premiker thoke jaoyay toke chay.

Sarboshantoh hoye ja ei kobibakhye

Lutiye de aboshisto naritwer sambal

Kiser tor laj? Kor churno mithya saj

Paaper chorom ponthe hok na punyo aj.

Anarchy's message

Listen, listen to the whispering wind
Streets are about to burn, they say
Remember the pages you once tore apart
The liquid walls are giving away.

Set your clocks for the sunset alarms
Covers are flying away never to return
Peacocks are celebrating the first fire,
The painted world and its golden sepulchre.

And yet, you scream on about your wishes
Wish you were aware of life's disguises.
Alike we are, yet you were too busy to see
Anarchy calls me now, is it the time to leave?

Shei sabdo ra...apatoto

Notun kichui kokhono bolar thakena
Ja chilo, ta thakar ageo jeno chilo
Achomka paoya asroy alga hashe
Jeno ghum bhangiye majhrate ulka-brishti.

Ami duto katha boli, duto lukiye rakhi
Nidrar obhabe bujhi jwala ek matro sakkhir
Ajosro odorkari sabde tader mukti di
Bartaman bhorche sudhu kichu itihasher chobi.

Tukro sabdo gulo tukro bhalobashar motoi hariyeche
Khnujte chaina r, dorkar o nei; biporit srote bheseche
Haate ajo agunti rekha dekha jay sudhu, proticchobi nei
Sedin o chilo na, jedin kopal chapre hatu jole hnetechi.

School palano baccha chele lukiye thake
Ei bodhoy meye tir chokhe pore galo she
Ice cream gole jay, kothin protikkha roj
Ek jholok dekhbe, keu jante parbe na.
Se kichui chaite sekheni, sarolyer tej chokhe
Ei prithibi sudhui tar, ek jon kei ta deoya jay.

In the mood?

Hoods and cloaks protect the neck
As bullets fly to equate payback
In the mood for love, you say
Having lost my leg, I could care less.

Stories, ringtones, pills and mistakes
Drifting in a space without a face
Counting backwards, time dilutes pain
Save your truth, strike another day.

The Phase Space

Hyperbolas near an unstable fixed point (FP) are super awesome! For an observer, the phase space cannot look anymore beautiful. They provide no bounds and stretch to infinities on all quadrants. But the poor, untrained physical world loves ellipses.  Small, closed objects with limited scope, these ellipses just end up constraining the philosophical output. Yet, the Royal Society has such an elliptic foundation that infinities, although powerful, are yet struggling to find admirers.

A few days ago, the unstable FP was sitting happily in his static position while a particle rolled towards it from the second quadrant. The particle, being close to its minimum, didn't want to move any further. The FP liked the fact that he had someone to meet after a long time. But he has seen many a particle along the same trajectory. They come, they leave. Nature's laws don't change. But unusually, this particle wasn't showing any intention of leaving. The FP knew that someone must have tampered with the action. The FP was now angry. No one messes with his phase space.

The mathematician looked at the screen with a cunning smile on his lips. Watching the changing phase structures with each change of parameters gave him a super-human happiness. He looked at his finger tips. He felt powerful. He peered into the screen. The equations have changed. The point has been tamed. An ellipse has locked it in.