Musings

On his diurnal morning pilgrimage to work, sometimes his eyes were wide awake to register happenings around. Today was this day.

There was a girl with coffee, spilled coffee on her snow white sneakers, which were current haute couture of this generation.

She tried to erase the coffee marks using a tissue, for what were white sneakers sans their white glow?

He sat surrounded by daily commuters, mostly engaged religiously to their smart phone screen, among cacophony of apps and data. A bright shaft of sun illuminated their plebian shenanigans, revolting against their machine, and trying it’s best time get their attention off the artificial lighting, and all it got was squinted eyelids in response.

Michael Chabon had been his constant companion for almost two weeks now. The book, though short like a novella, was ” a natural excuberence and extravagance of Chabon’s writing is matched by his dazzling wit”, as Sunday Telegraph has noted.

It provided a certain solace and nutrition to his senses starved of prose & verse, but abound with automation tools and career/soul searching

The metro moved through stark contrasting world on either side, as seen through its windows. Greens of Dover juxtaposed to cemented high rises, on opposite windows.

They descended at Buona Vista. A diffident Chinese teen, adjusted his coiffure subconsciously, while passing by cute European teenagers. For such was Singapore, a complex amalgam of coutries and continents, merging in this giant 740 square kilometer cauldron of dreams, identities and life.

“One north ”

And thus began his work day.

Advertisements

Consciousness & quantum physics eh?

They sat around coffee mugs, and probably that discussion came from how gen Y differ from Gen-X, in sense that have Gen-Ys have shorter attention spans, with a affinity for video games.

– Probably its just the brain wiring, neurons firing.

Manu suggested having seen that last episodes of documentary by Dr Eagleman, where scientist were trying to make a digital copy of a human brain , which currently stores data in Zetabytes = equivalent of amount of data currently existing in the world. [1][2][3]

Another set of scientists were making artificial brain, but the obvious question that pops up what will you do about consciousness ? ”

P said , “we might be having parallel universe right here, next to us. Have you given it  a thought ever that there exists a possibility that you have a quantum counterpart. Quantum physics have this theory of entanglement, where two subatomic particles revolve in opposite directions, to balance.”[4]

Manu : “ahh I have heard of that one, but isnt it subatomic. So you are extrapolating it to human existence”

“Ya, so thats why in religious books and sects its said for example dont harm others, coz if you do then in parallel world it hits your counterpart, and things get disarrayed there. For same reason probably Gods have a way of things to keep balance between humans and their world, and hence each religion has set of practices.”

“Seems plausible”

“Bu then there is a problem to this, whenever a single being gets ahead in path of evolution, say Buddha, and then tries to change mind of humanity, he will end up failing. In the sense because collective brains > 1 single enlightened brain. And history is an example of this.”

“that’s an interesting thought..”

“I heard it from an indian guy, and he wrote a book which goes by name exits of great man or something” [5]

“Possibly when we say moksha, it might be the case that we need to attain salvation not just for one person. Getting an individual salvation is impossible, only by going together can humanity reach salvation.”

 

 

 

Reference

[1] The Brain http://www.pbs.org/show/brain-david-eagleman/

[2.1] https://science.mit.edu/research/faculty/seung-h-sebastian

[2.2] https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/mit-neuroscientist-discusses-quest-reserve-engineer-human-brain/

[3.1]  Synthetic brain https://www.theguardian.com/science/2009/jul/23/synthetic-brain-project-consciousness

[3.2] http://bluebrain.epfl.ch/

[4] Quantum Entanglement https://futurism.com/physicists-take-one-large-step-towards-proving-quantum-entanglement/

[5] https://www.amazon.com/Graceful-Exits-stories-Tibetan-Buddhist/dp/1590302702

When you hitchhike …

 

DSCF63691. Do not lose heart if no one stops. Remember pain of walking with 15 kgs of load on back  is much more than that of  getting rejected

2. Thou shalt not covet big SUV’s and wish , but they have so much space !

3. I wish this old couple thinks I am their lost son.

4. Do not dally your arm in a half hearted way, full straight and perpendicular.

5. When frustrated keep on moving. I finished 42 kms , this 10km would be done in a jiffy.

6. The scenery , yes , distract yourself observe highlands, see those carefree sheep, happy and clearly not backpacking or hitchhiking.

7. Take in the look from other lane cars, the sympathy in their eyes for my poor self.

8. After 1-2kms , realize you did not check which was the right way ? confirm with only person you saw in last thirty minutes.

9. “Portree that way, aye.  Say 10-12 miles ”
Reply with an scottish ayes , “Aye, bus ?”
“Aye, bus stop near church”

10. Church ! Now is the time to conjure up your faith, remember school days, remember morning prayers you did for 52 weeks * 14years of St. Johns and St. Mary’s.
“Our father in heaven
Give us today our holy hitch hike !!

11. Again out goes the hitchhiking stance. Confident, smile on face, cap down, and arms perpendicular and determined.
Oh ..car is giving parking dipper.
Is it stopping for me ?
Yes it is.
“Hi can you drop me to Portreee”
“Sure why not?”
Hallelujah !!

12. Now chat, this and that , what did you cover, how you ended up being in Skye from Singapore.

13. You’re from Glasgow ? I was there like yesterday . Great place .

Ahh, you guys are actually Polish ? I have a friend back in Singapore from Poland, (should I throw in that Polish vodka anecdote too ?)

What a coincidence , your husband is wearing same watch as me (Garmin fenix ) Wow, does he runs.

Finally the driving force behind the wheels speaks ,
“yeah man i tried getting into London marathon this year, but the lottery system man. It fills in so fast.”

 

 
Voila Portree, here you are.

Isn’t today summer solstice ?

At least now I can think bit straight.  That two kaya butter toast, and savoury salty taste of butter (that health conscious like me miss) , is nothing less than heavenly. Coffee is below average, but will sustain my diurnal caffeine habits.

The point running in my mind is

  • Am I wasting my time ? Where is the fucking dent that I gonna make in the universe ?
  • Should I travel to London again ? Now that I know name of at least 3 Burroughs, thanks to Assassins creed game.  Lambeth, London City, Westminster, Whitehall. But the visa lasts 5 more months and tickets are around 1000 bucks.
  • I guess the pricing takes travelling to London , out of equation. Sigh. Some clarity in life.
  • The gym hours ! Where is the promised core, it is there I tell you, you just need to do chipping like Michelangelo did for his initial sculptures. Meh.
  • I think the current countenance of mind , can be blamed on the inheritance of a loss, the book is not exactly gloomy, but it is not a happy one too.

 

On indoor climbing day #5

  day #5
Climbed all small auto belays, except black 6b and Green 6b

Tried full wall red auto belay
gave up 3 more holds from top

Bouldering :
– Tried black one again, foot stepping is bad and very amateurish
– Tend to get both legs on same hold
– Difficulty switching between legs when going up
– Still using too much upper body
– Need more flexibility with legs
– Include rests ?? [http://www.rockandice.com/rock-climbing-training/attack-and-defend-tips-for-resting-rock-climbing]

Longing…

He closed his eyes, and all the universe started
contracting. Like someone pressed rewind and everything was rushing back to big
bang days.

 

  An electric impulse went off, up his spine. Somewhere behind
the stage of his mind, his to-do list was waiting to make an appearance. 

He wanted to chuck work, and head to Indie film theatre in
island. All his recent cinema trips, were marked by stupid,  abysmal movies. Even much awaited Amitabh
Bacchan and Farhan , on screen shenanigans with 64 squares of chess failed to
impress him. As Raja Sen said it was meant to be a thriller, but somewhere the
scriptwriter forgot that, and audience were left with longing and hope that
something will happen now, and will give movie that oomph character that they
paid for. 

Now the cinephile in him longed for good old Godfather on
a big screen. 

Myth of Sisyphus 

Rising,tram, 4 hours in the office or factory, meal, 4 hours of work, tram, meal, sleep and Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday according to the same rhythm. This path is easily followed most of the time.

But one day the ‘why’ arises, and everything begins in that weariness tinged with Amazement.

‘Begins’ this is important, weariness comes at the end of mechanical life but at the same time it inaugurates the impulse of consciousness.it awakens consciousness and provokes what follows.

What follows is the gradual return into the chain or it is the definitive awakening.

– Camus, The myth of Sisyphus 

Other days he would have given himself apt reason to smile at himself, the narcissistic one. And may be even pat himself for where he has come to.

The smile spread across his image from back window of rented uber, and he tried to remember when did he swipe right, rather than a bored non-chalant left. Or perhaps in desperation of getting his probability corrected. He was some sort of competitive now, but he always hated that feeling of being on the losing side.

Through the sad sordid days of getting drunk and barfing, to seclusions sought in lonely mountains. The mountains echoed his thoughts and empathize with him that he wasn’t alone in his longing. 
He happily remembered walking under the shadow of colosseum proud of himself for having seen it. And then when he travelled back, it was another old Monument. Like that in Sarnath from his hometown. For having so used to, it lost its significance. 
He held on to his soul, reading it in ikea lamp yellow light. It was still there, alive and happy after so many days. Still young.He would have made Pindar proud for sure 
“o my soul, do not aspire to immortal life, but exhaust the limit of the possible

Trippy with Beatles

Trippy
Lucy shudnt be in the sky
With diamonds
I picture myself in a train
In a station
But it’s urban utopia
Or dystopia
Tired face
Tired of their monotonous
Job
Lifestyle
Show me some spark man .

She is not a girl
Who misses much
Holland village
Remnants of boozing at bar
That fine Japanese
Single malt .

What is happiness
Arre it’s a warm gun rey

And now blackbirds
Are flying
How I missed them
Ob la di
Ob la da

The truth – short story

“You first said you want to go to library and now you want to go this way.”, came the vexed reply in tamil with a shade of broken English from the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper himself was as historic as the place was, with a set of pale eyes whites of which were dirty, a face marked with wrinkles and scars , and a tumor like affliction in mouth. One could have categorically placed the contenance as uneasing if not scaring.

He reiterated the clichéd getaway lines,
“Tamil terima, anna. I am new to this place.”

The mellowed gatekeeper reluctantly guided him in, getting his sign on visitor’s register.The place smelled peace, and was achingly charming infused with shreiking silence. A cool quiet that felt intangible in the hot summer afternoon. But here it was, and he was already feeling blessed, and yes he tried to feel the nature like a gaia theorist with his eyes closed. There were different kind of vibes in ether.
It was all green on both side of dilapidated asphalt road, with no sign of human inhabitation. Long grasses with jutting blades tried to engulf the horizon. The buildings were ancient, and a gardener was clearing the brown grass with a motor-blades. The humming sound sounded sinister, foreboding of lurking secrets. He listened to the sound made by his footsteps as he continued his non-chalant stroll.

An ancient building loomed in front, there was a huge wooden placard at the gate declaring “There is nothing higher than truth”. He pondered on the veracity of the statement as he circled the main atrium of building twice. Like a planet wondering why it has been encircling sun since eons.

He ushered without confidence into the secretary room, from which he could hear hushed tones. Two elderly ladies were chatting behind two huge mahogany desks. Each desk had a IBM desktop computer-neatly wrapped under transparent sheets, as if they were too precious to touch. The sound of rusty typewriter mingled with the creeking of ceiling fan.

“So are you a healer?”, the younger of two asked breaking the eerie silence.

“Healer?? “, she definitely didn’t meant the psychic healer, it cant be. But that was what she meant, to the boy’s utter amazement.
“May be I am clairvoyant, may be. A bit. Not sure”, that was his till-now-kept-secret thought. Although he had shared it with few of close friends who would have an understanding of it, else it was pretty secret.

She went on to explain the roots of organization handling him some centeneary pamphlets 19 years old. The older of two lady continued her recee on his face suspiciously.His contrasting clothes gave him away, old navy capris with red converse sleepers. It was like Bill Gates attending Ku-Klux Klan meeting in a tuxedo.

“If you have enough karmas, you will become a member. Do not worry about it”. A strange reply, coming in this age. But then it was very pertinent with the atmosphere. He would have laughed over it, if someone would have said that in CCD or at Mocha. But this was coming from a secretary of an international office of Agnostics.It was like a movie scene, where the protagonist finds an old haveli, having the answers to all strange things happening to him. Like Harry finding Dumbledore, or Frodo finding Gandalf.

He came out more unconfident as before, with a red and a purple pamphlet.He sat there on a solitary bench beside the green shrub under the banyan tree, and started reading through the pamphlets with a rapt attention. He was lost. A sudden tinge at his calf skin caused by an unwary ant brought him back to the cement bench beside the green shrub under the banyan tree.

“Do you have a light?”
He noticed a girl in early twenties, she looked of south Indian descent, with big deep set eyes, he would have named her Meenaxi.
She had an olive complexion, and looked stunning yet enchanting in deep v-neck tank top with a fitting blue denims .He caught a whiff of her perfume, and a twitch in his heart told him that he was already smitten. She held a smoke elegantly between her delicate fingers.

“Do you have a light?”, she repeated carelessly.
“Umm…ahh….well no”.
“I suspected that, you look like a kid.”, followed by a tinkering mocking laugh. “But kids don’t visit here”.
“Oh my gosh! You are reading about death, kid”, she glimpsed on the pamphlets.

The noun quoted was now confused, whether to continue his sublime mesmerisation or retort to quip.
Choosing the second, he retorted, “I was until you interrupted me”,

“As life is interrupted by death”.

He mused on the depth of phrase and clevage at same time, balancing the conflicting thoughts.

“A human tends to propogate this theory, but death is a continuation, not an interruption.”
“Hmmm. So are you a celestial being? Huh! How come you adjust in this human world”.
“Believe me, it’s very tough.”

Was that a sarcasm or banter. Sarcasm, he concluded.
Meenaxi was now smoking a unlit cigarrette making brilliant smoke rings. She adjusted herself on the small bench, and ‘kid’ twitched to the corner.Universe was already laughing behind his back.He could have closed his eyes and felt her human aura, deciphered the aural colour he saw and made things easy. But he decided to play it human, it was getting interesting.

A faint breeze touched his nose, unconsciously closing his pupils.He felt the wind on his physical body.He wanted to fly on this zephyr.
As he was flying a realisation dawned upon him, there was no human aura in close vicinity.He concentrated hard on the darkness, trying to locate the luminous aural colors. No. They were absent. A pang of pain in his pupils ended his effort,and he came back to cement bench beside the green shrub under the banyan tree.
Opening his eyes he studied his neigbours face. doubting his amateur visions. She smiled back as if acknowldging his cognizance and challenging his abilities at the same time.
“It’s tough naa?”
He was taken aback. This was second time in a day when his secrets came out of cloak.
“What is tough?”, he fumbled.
“Adjusting in this human world, as you said”.

He was flummoxed.
She stood up, still holding the cigarrette- now a crumpled piece. She glanced at the unburnt stub and threw it dexterously with her two fingers. The tabacco stub made a boomrang motion before crashing among the long grasses with jutting blades.

“Remember there is nothing as the whole truth”, she turned around looking the kid in eyes. And was lost in darkening darkness of dawn down the asphalt path.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑