Notebook Chaos

Checkmate!

2013-04-21T18:06:00.000+05:30

To battle is ingrained in the very DNA of life. From the smallest microorganisms to the largest mammals, to the multitudes of marine creatures to avian life; each species, each individual, is locked in a battle, every day, for the entirety of its existence. A battle for survival, to eat or to avoid being eaten, to exist for just a while longer. The earth, then, is a vast battlefield, with innumerable duels taking place at any given instant.

There is one species that excels at battling. Humans, after all, won the battle against all other life forms decisively. They used their superior intelligence to vanquish even the largest, the fastest, the most ferocious and the most poisonous of beasts. But, having vanquished all other types of life on earth, what would the restless battling spirit that is so ingrained in all life, ask of them? Battle a more worthy foe, of course. Each other.

Over centuries the craft of battle was honed, through countless massacres and righteous victories. To capture power, or to gain freedom, to protect, or to oppress, for glory or sacrifice. Whatever the cause, the art of battle remains the same.

What did they learn?

That victory is seldom won on the battlefield. Instinct, courage, strength and valor can only get you so far. Against a worthy foe, they're merely the price of entry. That a battle is not won by luck, even when it seems so. Luck is a lie the ill-prepared tell themselves. The victors, however, know, that it has nothing to do with victory.

Patience is a virtue, even in battle. In the heat of battle, when adrenaline is pumping through the veins, even a slight opening seems enough to warrant an attack. But the opening could be a ploy. Set up for just that reason, to tempt a headlong attack only to realize the strength and organization of the opposition, but by then it is too late.

Sniffing out a weakness takes a trained eye. Confirming the weakness to be genuine and not a ruse, involves thinking several steps into the future. Failing to distinguish a real weakness from a carefully set trap would lead to certain defeat.

Sacrifice is a powerful weapon. When used judiciously, it can entice an opponent into making a move you were prepared for. Forcing your opponent to do what you want him to do is often enough to let you launch an attack on multiple fronts. The enemy is torn between protecting it's different flanks, and that indecision, that doubt, is enough to grant you an advantage.

In every battle, against every foe, there is a narrow window of opportunity, the perfect alignment of your forces to launch a lethal attack. It doesn't come often, but if you maneuver wisely, it will come eventually. And when it does, attack then, on multiple fronts, with all your might, relentlessly, to finally overwhelm and claim your victory.

And the final lesson? That you win the battle not by vanquishing your opponent, but by defeating your own weaknesses. Only then do you earn the right to call out in triumph, "Checkmate!"

Sea Walking in the Andamans

2013-04-04T17:42:00.000+05:30

I stand on the sea floor, off the coast of North Bay, a small island near Port Blair, the capital of the Andaman Islands. Facing a coral reef about 20 feet below the water surface, I am surrounded by hundreds of fishes, from tiny Nemos that nestle among the corals to large foot long grey ones gnawing at my fingers and jostling with each other for a morsel of fish feed. I experience near weightlessness, with the heavy air helmet I'm wearing pushing me down so I stay on the sea floor. Walking is a slow deliberate process, and I step gingerly on the shifting sand floor, trying to keep a firm footing, while minimizing the amount of sand I kick up in the water.

Corals come in numerous shapes, sizes and colours. The ones here were orange with finger sized and shaped cilia. Nestled among them you find dozens of fishes and sure enough, as had been promised, there was Nemo, the orange and white striped clown fish. How strange that it was unaware of what a celebrity it was, its species known and loved by these large strangely shaped clumsy creatures that kept showing up, blowing bubbles as they paused and pointed excitedly at them.

The most fascinating were a school of hundreds of synchronised translucent rainbow finned fishes that moved in impossible unison. Each was tiny, no longer than a finger. Yet together they seemed to be part of an inseparable whole. All of them glide upwards now, across me, at an angle of 45 degrees when suddenly they all swing around in a startling instant and head towards me, head on. None touch me, or at least none that I could feel. I might as well have been a rock in their path, to be calmly avoided without taking much notice. Yet the experience was surreal, passing like a ghost through a wall, but one of fishes. Who was their leader and who were the followers? The answer was obvious. No one and every one. Such was their instinctual trust in one another, such a surrender of their self to the whole, that every movement, even every twitch of one, any one, spread through the mass instantly. As a wise man once said, know when to lead and when to follow.

The diver along with me brought out a packet of fish feed. Suddenly I couldn't see the coral right in front of me. So many fishes swarmed into my view, completely obstructing it, several brushing past my outstretched hands and scraping my legs. There were so many of them, the largest about a foot long, and so close, that I couldn't see my hands. I did feel the rough scales and perhaps a few fish teeth against my fingers. Watching them fight with each other, I couldn't help contrast them with the docile swarm I had encountered just a while ago. Cooperation versus competition. Go with the herd or fight for your space?

I climb out of the water, grateful of the firm ground beneath my feet and elated at the experience. I sped my way back on a boat, with the wind in my hair, sand in my feet, the sun in my face and a smile in my heart.

The Ride

2013-03-03T18:24:00.001+05:30

Time stops, only space rushes by. A confounding of the dimensions or is it a trick of my senses? Hours pass by in the guise of minutes, or were they minutes that seemed like hours? Perhaps it was the wind, now pushing against me, making me feel it's strength, and now racing alongside me, unfelt, as if hiding before another gentle ambush. Engulfed by it, I slice through, sometimes silently, and sometimes with a roar that drowns out the world. As it passes over me, some seems to pass through. Through my skin, a swirling mass of untamed desire mingles inside me, stirring emotion, mixing with the adrenalin pumping through my veins.

A blur of space rushes past, barely seen, scarcely remembered. The earth itself seems in a rush, spinning and turning, making its way through a celestial expanse. I resist, refuse to be swept along; an impossible task, yet one that must be done. The wheels keep turning. The growl of the engine, guttural and low, ready to spring into a roar and thrust me forward at the twitch of a muscle.

The clouds understand my desire. Shifting shapes, while hurrying along. The crimson sun imbibing them with hues I don’t know the names of. Shapes that bring back a flood of childhood memories. But they bring more than that.

The first drop is surprising, the second, a nuisance, till the clouds surrender and relinquish their contents. It’s pouring now, and I’m soaked to the bone, yet I ride on. Others have paused, hiding under bridges or shop facades, leaving the road empty for me. Where it had been pleasant before, there is now a nip in the air and a lingering chill. I zip up my jacket, and proceed all the same.

The smell of the earth now hangs in the air, rich and fertile. As the rain water seeps through the parched earth, it releases fragrances locked beneath the surface.

I reach my destination, but my journey does not end.

The fate of the world

2012-11-05T17:54:00.003+05:30

hangs in the balance again. And most of the world has no say in it.

The US elections matter to a lot more than just US citizens. While most of the US President's job would be to focus on ensuring the prosperity of the US, the rest of the world usually comes out as collateral damage. To a large extent, the severity of the efforts to tackle climate change, the probability of irresponsible wars and reckless financial disasters along with much else are all dependent on who wins these elections. The stakes could scarcely be higher.

And both the candidates - Obama and Romney - have their flaws. But Romney and the conservative right seem so regressive in most things that matter to the world, and indeed, even to much of the US, that it is a wonder that the race is still too close to call. But it would be foolish to discount the threat of this bunch getting to power again. Bush, for all his proven incompetence, got elected twice.

I hope Obama comes out on top, not because he'll get most policy decisions right, but mostly because Romney would wreck a fragile global economy, probably cause more wars with his US supremacist views and stifle any sustainable energy businesses. And also, because throughout the campaign, he and his team have lied through their teeth and shifted their stand repeatedly. And mostly, because of my frustration with 'anti-intellectualism' that seems to be the mantra of the Republican right. Complex problems require careful analysis and strategic solutions, than their delusional machoism.

Mathemagic

2012-11-04T13:31:00.001+05:30

A graphic novel on the philosophy of Mathematics? A friend pointed out the existence of this unlikely book, titled 'Logicomix', and I just had to get it.

Based on the life and work of Bertrand Russell, the book views his mathematical pursuits as arising from events in his personal life. Orphaned at an early age, Russell turned to mathematics to find answers to the reality of existence. He became obsessed with the methods of creating mathematical proofs using logic, but as his understanding grew, Russell eventually became dismayed at the realization that much of mathematics rested on unproven axioms. This began a lifelong quest for the logical foundations of mathematics that would be in harmony with reality.

The book introduces a number of other eminent mathematicians and philosophers that were contemporaries of Russell and gives a layman's perspective into their complex works. Here's a few of the star cast of geniuses:

Cantor: Invented Set Theory and spent decades creating a mathematics of infinity. He was an outcast of the then mathematical community which viewed his work as a threat to the existing mathematical establishment. Was confined to an asylum and treated for severe depression for much of his life. He described the existence of orders of infinities, where one set of infinities was larger than another.

Hilbert: A polymath who led the movement to create a complete axiomatic foundation of mathematics. The pursuit, however, was later shown by Gödel to be impossible.

Russell: The protagonist of the the book, he showed the contradictions in Set Theory through self-referential propositions (Russell's paradox). Cantor's set theory, extended by others, postulates that any definable collection is a set. In layman's language, Russell's paradox can be presented as follows: A town has a single barber, who shaves those and only those men in town who do not shave themselves. Who shaves the barber? This seemingly well-defined set leads to a contradiction that destroys naive set theory. An even simpler statement that illustrates the contradiction "This statement is False". (If it is, then it's not and if it's not, then it is). He also gave a more than 300 page proof for 1+1=2.

Wittgenstein: A philosopher and student of Russell. Claimed to have solved all the problems of philosophy. His Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus is considered a masterpiece, though I have to admit I've neither understood its thrust nor made a serious attempt to do so.

Gödel: While the rest of the mathematical world had bought into Hilbert's idea of creating a complete system of axioms which could logically test the validity of any conceivable hypothesis, Gödel showed that this was an impossibility. His two Incompleteness Theorems, published when he was 25, show that for any logically consistent set of axioms that can prove arithmetic, a proposition can be created that can be shown to be unprovable. The ability to fully appreciate his work would require decades of training and high mathematical aptitude. In its absence, it is useful to consider what people who satisfied this criteria said of him.

"Kurt Godel's achievement in modern logic is singular and monumental - indeed it is more than a monument, it is a landmark which will remain visible far in space and time. ... The subject of logic has certainly completely changed its nature and possibilities with Godel's achievement." —John von Neumann

Like many mathematical geniuses, was mentally disturbed for most of his life, and died by starving himself when there was no one to taste his food, which he feared was poisoned.

And so the book subtitled 'An Epic Search for Truth', ends with a humbling realization that mathematics, and more generally logic, cannot answer every question that can be asked. But this realization is to be used with caution, as many specialized results are abused and exploited by those who do not understand it fully, to make assertions to satisfy their own agendas and beliefs. I do not presume to understand the complexity of many of the ideas listed above and consciously resist the temptation to extrapolate them here.

At some point in the future, I intend to read 'Gödel, Escher, Bach' to explore some more of the mind-numbing complexity of the relationship between logic and reality.

The Fisherman and the Suit

2012-07-07T13:26:00.001+05:30

There was once a fisherman who was fishing in a pond. Another man, in a suit, was passing him by, but stopped. He looked at the bucket of fish already caught by the fisherman and the wooden stick with a string at its end that he was using to catch the fish and decided the fisherman needed to be helped.

"Old man, why do you fish with a wooden stick?", said the suit.

"What else should I do?" asked the fisherman.

"Why, you should take a boat and a fishing net and go out into the middle of the pond to catch fish.", said the suit.

"But I don't have either a boat or a net."

"You can buy them."

"But, I don't have the money."

"Come, I'll lend you the money." offered the suit.

"But how can I row the boat and fish at the same time? I'll need help."

"I'll loan you the money to hire a few people."

"And then what?" asked the fisherman.

"You can catch a lot of fish!"

"And then what?"

"You sell it in the market and repay my loan"

"And then what?"

"You take another loan and buy more boats and fishing nets and hire more men."

"And then what?"

"You can make a lot of money!"

"And then what?"

"You can build a big house with a garden by the pond." said the suit.

"And then what?" asked the fisherman.

"You can sit in the garden and relax!" cried the suit.

"What do you think I'm doing now?" smiled the fisherman.

Follow the Laggard

2012-07-05T17:28:00.001+05:30

Came across an interesting strategy deployed in sailboat racing while browsing the book 'Art of Strategy' by Avinash Dixit & Barry Nalebuff. In a two boat race, the best strategy for the leading boat is to mimic the moves of the trailing boat. In this scenario, any change of wind that can speed up the trailing boat, will also have a similar effect on the leading boat, thereby enabling it to maintain its lead.

This sort of turns the idea of leadership through innovation on its head.

I remember a quote by Sean Parker about myspace that said basically the same thing, "There was a period of time where if they (myspace) had just copied Facebook rapidly, I think they would have been Facebook"

What this seems to suggest then, is that the onus of innovation is on the upstart. This has been the case in the technology space. This makes the extraordinarily successful innovation by the likes of Apple a little less remarkable. They had to be blindingly original because if they were not, no one would have heard of them. Apple, of course, was not entirely a start-up, but after decades of declining performance, Jobs’ second-coming at the firm was effectively a new start.

This also says something about the prospects for continued success for the likes of Facebook and Apple. Innovation by them, as impressive as it was, is the price of entry for a start-up. But now that each is a market leader in its domain, would they find it harder to innovate? Should they, instead, change tracks, to actively imitating innovation by others and replicating? That would seem to be the ‘rational’ choice.

The markets seem to agree, at least for Facebook. The most hyped up IPO in history turned out to be a dud, largely on fears that the wellspring of innovation at Facebook would run dry sooner or later. Facebook, to their credit, do seem to have realized the change in strategy that would be required. The over-the-odds payments to acquire some innovative start-ups like Instagram is a sign that they realize that they might not be able to out-innovate the competition forever. Following the laggard just might save them.

Power Trick

2012-06-26T02:34:00.000+05:30

“Power resides where men believe it resides… it’s a trick, a shadow on the wall… and a very small man can cast a very large shadow”

- Game of Thrones, George R. R. Martin

An intriguing take on one of the most persistent and powerful desires of men - to possess power, over resources, over other men, over destiny itself.

Most sources of power are formal, either explicit or implicit contracts of authority, with money, rights, ownership or tradition giving them their legitimacy and, in many cases, acceptance.

But while most would be quick to list accurately and exhaustively those that have power over them, what is often unappreciated and unrecognized, is one's own power. Power to choose, to think, to decide, to act, to change.

The Arab Spring, is a case in point. An uprising of unprecedented scale, it was sparked by one man's refusal to accept his powerlessness. The act stirred the long suppressed desire of millions to snatch a bit of power over their lives that was their due. A simple realization that change was possible, was within reach, if only they believed it was.

But what if power is completely invisible? They can't see it, they can't feel it, they don't know it exists. The illusion of freedom persists, yet it is nothing more than an illusion. Wouldn't that be a neat trick?

Note: Opening quote is from the second season of the majestically epic saga that is the Game of Thrones. For those who don't know, Game of Thrones is an HBO show based on George R. R. Martin's fantasy saga, 'A Song of Fire and Ice'. Think of it as a new Lord of the Rings but with far more complex characters, each of them with more than a few shades of grey.

Future

2012-06-22T23:29:00.000+05:30

How far ahead can you think? A hundred years? A couple of hundred? Five hundred? A thousand? At which point, you probably agree, it starts to feel a little unrealistic. This future-blindness, as I call it, is perhaps an intrinsic part of human nature. We’ve evolved to think of life in terms of a human lifespan. Most of the human population, at any given time, would be hard pressed to trace their family history beyond a few generations.

So, what would life be like a thousand years from now? Of course, assuming we don’t blow ourselves up, and the planet doesn’t freeze over, or a comet doesn’t strike. How much farther would technology take us?

Machines would probably do most of our physical work, and possibly a great deal of what we consider mental work today. How far would artificial intelligence have developed? Would there be a difference between artificial and natural intelligence? Would machines have the ability to innovate and be creative?

Almost surely. Rise of the machines, if you think about it, is almost inevitable. Consider this case: Creativity, in a sense, is an unexpected interlinking of ideas to create a novel, hitherto non-existent system. What makes it rare is the very limited computing bandwidth of the human brain and a similarly limited memory. There is a fairly limited amount of information our brains can store, the contrast becoming clearer if you compare it with how much a single individual does not know. So, human creativity comes from using a limited amount of information and arriving at a novel pattern of interlinking them. While the first is a function of memory, and is quite certainly going to be sooner or later exceeded by artificial memory, the second, involving generation of patterns, is a function of computing power. The functioning of the human mind is still a long way from being understood, so it is hard to compare it with existing computing capabilities. But with progress in computing power following the exponential Moore’s Law the past few decades and which is expected to continue for a few more, doubtless, artificial computing power will start approaching that of a human brain.

With substantially larger memories and as much, if not more, computing power, future machines will inevitably be better at generating novel patterns. But the final step of the process still remains. How do you identify a creative pattern? In some cases, where problems are defined, and the properties of the solution can be derived, future machines would have all the resources to arrive at novel solutions satisfying the solution properties. But in the rest of the cases, where the objective of the creative process is simply to create, and not to satisfy predefined parameters, the question of how creativity will be identified still remains. Would such creativity, without human involvement, qualify as art?

The future, as it turns out, is not only hard to predict, but is even harder to fathom.

New Blog

2011-06-26T18:18:00.004+05:30

Its been a long while since I posted anything here. I've recently started a new blog on the socio-economic development of India and the world. Some of the topics I hope to cover are:

Microfinance as a poverty alleviation tool
Right to Education Act - challenges in implementation
Food grains policy - why food rots in govt. godowns while the poor go hungry?
Choices the poor make - how whats rational to them is irrational to us
Notes from the field - my experiences from interacting with social enterprises and the Bottom of the Pyramid population they serve

For those readers who are interested in such topics, feel free to hop on to www.thesocialsectorblog.blogspot.com. The purpose of the blog is not just to disseminate ideas, but also provoke thinking and generate discussion. Do join in!

Course correction for Microfinance

2010-10-31T15:39:00.004+05:30

Microfinance has been a buzzword in the past few years and mainstream opinion of it has largely been positive. While it has been around in different forms since decades, in its current avatar, it has been championed by Muhammad Yunus who, along with his Grameen Bank, have become the face of microfinance ever since winning the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007. India too, has borrowed and adapted the concept, as an important means of rescuing people from being part of the largest poverty stricken population in the world.

But a lot has changed in the past few weeks and the current microfinance crisis in A.P. is a wake-up call to all the stakeholders in this industry. India has one of the largest and fastest growing microfinance industries and a lot is at stake. For those not familiar with the developments, a quick backgrounder: A. P. is the hub of microfinance activity in the country and Hyderabad it's 'capital' with most of the major microfinance institutions (MFIs) having their head offices in the city. It also has by far the maximum number of clients and penetration within the state. However, the state government has issued an ordinance to curb alleged excesses committed by some MFIs that are purportedly the cause of a spate of suicides amongst MFI clients. Excessive interest rates and coercive collection practices have been blamed and the ordinance grants the state power to strip any MFI its license to collect loans. This has led to MFIs being unable to collect repayments for their outstanding loans, with politicians and other vested interests promoting mass non-repayment amongst borrowers. This could destroy the admirable credit discipline that borrowers have historically shown and cripple the industry.

If you've read Muhammad Yunus' book or interviews where he talks about his inspiration and motivation for starting microlending, you'll realize that it seems like money is the only thing required by the poor. It is as if they have the means, knowledge and access to generate sufficient income and a small amount of cash is the only missing piece of the situation that has billions stuck in a poverty trap. Microfinance, by providing that sole missing element completes the picture and everyone lives happily ever after.

Or do they?

Having been engaged in doing secondary research on MFIs in the past few weeks, I've realized how little is known about the end use of the loans lent out by MFIs. All the lenders are aware that their money needs to used for income generating activities and not immediate consumption by the borrowers, so that over the long run, they are able to own and produce enough to be able to raise their standard of living. However, this is the poor and extremely poor we're talking about, for many of whom the next meal is the most pressing concern. We've seen such a scenario, though milder, play out earlier. Remember sub-prime mortgages? Runaway consumption facilitated by easy credit? Is it too hard to imagine that when access to easy credit could induce irresponsible consumption behavior by a literate middle-class, the same would not happen with an illiterate and desperately poor? There is anecdotal proof that multiple lending is present and in some areas widely prevalent and that is just inviting trouble.

In my view, the rapid growth and acceptance of microfinance as a vehicle for good is partly due to its apparent simplicity. But there are several other missing pieces of the puzzle of poverty that are being inadvertently ignored. Skills enhancement, financial literacy inculcating investment & saving discipline are all critical pieces without which any permanent upliftment is impossible. That is where the big gap now lies that needs to be filled by someone. To be fair, some of the more enlightened microfinance operators have realized this need and moved away from offering just credit towards more holistic services required by the poor. (See Basix, that has moved from being just an MFI to becoming a 'livelihood promotion' institution) But unfortunately, such instances of enlightened management are relatively scarce in an industry that has experienced explosive growth over the last few years and resulted in a windfall for the most aggressive ones. The SKS IPO, a topic of heated debates on its own, has shown just how much of quick wealth can be made by MFI promoters and is it not reasonable to expect that some of the new entrants do not have similar ambitions?

The case of suicides by poor clients in the wake of harassment and coercion at the hands of MFI recovery agents is a tragic wake-up call for all. This scenario could and should have been seen and prevented, but individual greed always initially trumps collective conscience. But now that everyone has been temporarily stung, it is my hope that the government can provide an effective and much needed regulation (not in its current draconian form) that brings back the mission with which MFIs working for poverty alleviation ought to work.

A Case for Optimism

2010-10-06T09:44:00.002+05:30

My last two posts have been on existential angst and a fruitless pursuit of happiness. It is only fair that I balance it out with a little optimism, not just for the sake of it, but because there is a case for it.

For as bad as the global economic, social and political situation might currently be, it is still the best time to be alive on planet Earth. And things will keep getting better. Fifty years from now, we will live in a different world. To get a glimpse of that future take a look at the commercial below and read the Millennium Development Goals.

The eight Goals are:

All this by 2015. And that is certainly a case for optimism.

Happiness

2010-08-19T18:33:00.004+05:30

I need to write. Writing will make me happy. Writing on a blog will get me comments. Comments will make me happy. Replying to comments ensures people return to my blog. That will make me happy. Having 100 followers of my blog will make me happy. I have 96 followers. I've had 96 followers for several months now. New people are not reading my blog. That makes me unhappy.

The post that I share on Indiblogger gets promoted by many people. That makes me happy. I removed my last post after sharing it. Many people promoted the post that did not exist. That makes me very unhappy. I should stop blogging. Maybe that will make me happy.

I have other followers. Every other day I get a new follower on Twitter. It doesn't make me happy. I am being followed by a growing number of people I've never heard of. Why should that make me happy? Why do they add me when they don't even know me? Does it make them happy? Why would they be happy following me if they don't even know me? I don't tweet.

Maybe tweeting will make me happy. But isn't it like blogging? Isn't it just blogging without the effort or skill? Why would that make me happy? I don't like twitter.

I don't think any number of comments or followers will make me happy. I need to write for myself. Writing for myself will make me happy. I need to do everything for myself. Only then will I be happy. Will doing everything for myself make me selfish? Can a selfish person ever be happy? Is there anyone who is not selfish? Is there anyone who is happy?

I think listening to music makes me happy. I wish I could make my own music. That would make me happy. But I don't have any musical talent. That makes me very unhappy. So many musicians don't have any talent. But they make music and that makes me unhappy. I hate music because it makes me unhappy.

I like football. Watching football makes me happy. My team has not won anything for a long time now. That makes me very unhappy. I hate football because it makes me unhappy.

I like art. Discovering art makes me happy. I don't understand modern art. No one understands modern art. New artists only create modern art. That makes me very unhappy. I hate art.

I like thinking. Thinking makes me happy. Thinking makes me find faults. Finding faults drives away the happiness. Thinking leads only to conclusions. Conclusions don't bring happiness. I hate thinking.

The Cliff

2010-08-05T12:57:00.005+05:30

Do you know what it feels like to jump off a cliff? No? Let me tell you.

But let’s start from the beginning shall we, and the beginning, in this case, as in all cases, must always start from the base, from the ordinary, and the commonplace. Because doesn’t every story worth being told begin there?

Now you’re at the base, going about your daily business, when once in a while, like everyone else, you look up in the distance to see the cliff, towering, powerful, solitary, and wonder what it would feel like standing there on top. How far would you be able to see and what would your field of vision contain? When you looked down at where you are now what would you see? Would you want to share that view, the beauty and the splendor of it all, with everyone you knew? But these thoughts enter only an idle brain, and your busy life scarcely allows you the luxury to let a thought linger too long before you banish it hastily in favor of action.

Except that for some, it is not that easy to banish such thoughts. For them, a thought once thought is impossible to shake away. Like a silent ember, the more they wish to blow it out with a whiff of logic, or a puff of reason, the brighter it burns. All the reasons it can't be done only serve to fan the flames of desire. I am one of those unlucky few.

Over time, the idea of the cliff started growing in my mind, threatening to usurp all the territory that had been hitherto governed by logic. I began having dreams in which I was on the cliff, and imagined a multitude of worlds that could only be seen from that vantage point. It had become my very own stairway to heaven.

Only if you’ve been consumed by such a desire yourself will you understand what I’m trying to convey. Ambition is the brother of love, both the children of desire. Both the siblings are impossible to express, yet irrepressible when felt.

So, there was only one thing left for me to do. Drop everything and against the well-intentioned advice of everyone, set upon the long arduous journey to the top. Any journey is marked by struggles, obstacles and its difficult moments. I had prepared myself to face all of those. What I hadn’t prepared for, and hence what hit me the hardest, is the loneliness. I never thought I was the sort that needed company to feel comfortable, nor did I ever seek validation from others to judge if what I was doing was right. In fact, having been used to a life of fighting my surroundings to retain my independence, it was slightly unnerving to have freedom, absolute and complete, thrust upon me. This lack of a constant struggle to preserve my freedom was, in some perverse way, hindering that freedom. I learnt that it is sometimes better to have people who oppose you, than have no one care at all.

Persist I did, and I reached the top, as if there was any other possible outcome. Achieving what I had long desired and struggled for was a strange experience. The euphoria, the pleasure, perhaps even joy, all mixed into an indistinguishable surge of emotion. Then the tidal wave that threatened to drown me with its intensity passed over and I found myself washed up, alone, on the shores of purposelessness. ‘Now what?’ the voice inside me screamed. Except to run towards the edge and jump.

P.S. 1: The cliff is metaphorical. The jump signifies renunciation.

P.S. 2: Apparently, the theme of the piece has a well-known name. Existential Angst.

Invictus

2010-07-22T22:49:00.001+05:30

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Curse of Nike!

2010-07-07T23:15:00.004+05:30

Watch Nike's 'Write the Future' commercial that was released before the World Cup. Hard to pick who among the ones showcased was the biggest flop. Was it Wayne 'no-goals' Rooney, or 'Il Capitano' Cannavaro and his whimpering Italians. Or maybe Ribery of the Les Miserables, or Ronaldo 'the sulk'. Of course, Ronaldinho and Theo Walcott didn't even make it to the Finals.

Amazing coincidences, don't you think?

Ek Alif

2010-06-26T17:14:00.004+05:30

Here's inspiration, in the form of a soulful rendition of Baba Bulleh Shah's immensely deep poetry. Lyrics and translation (picked from the web) follow.

Parh parh ilm te faazil hoya
(You read to become all knowledgable)

Te kaday apnay aap nu parhya ee na
(But you never read yourself)

Bhaj bhaj warna ay mandir maseeti
(You run to enter your mosques and temples)

Te kaday mann apnay wich warya ee na
(But you never entered your own heart)

Larna ay roz shaitaan de naal
(Everyday you fight Satan)

Te kadi nafs apnay naal larya ee na
(But you never fight your own Ego)

Bulleh Shah asmaani ud-deya pharonda ay
(Bulleh Shah you try grabbing that which is in the sky)

Te jera ghar betha unoon pharya ee na
(But you never get hold of what sits inside yourself)

Bas kareen o yaar
(Stop it all my friend)

Ilm-oun bas kareen o yaar
(stop seeking all this knowledge my friend)

Ik Alif teray darkaar
(Only an Alif is what you need)

Bas kareen o yaar
(stop it all my friend)

Ilm-oun bas kareen o yaar…
(Stop seeking all this knowledge my friend)

Allah Sayyaan Allah Sayyaan
(God is Greatness, God is All)

Nee main jaanaa Jogi de naal
(I shall follow the Jogi {ascetic/Sufi})

Jo naa jaane, Haqq ki taaqat
(those who deny the strength of Truth)

Rab naa devey us ko Himmat
(God does not give them courage)

Hum Mann ke darya mein doobey
(We have drowned in the river of Self)

Kaisi nayya? Kya manjhdhaar…
(the boat and the flowing waters do not matter)

Bas kareen o yaar
(stop it all my friend)

Ilm-oun bas kareen o yaar
(stop seeking all this knowledge my friend)

Allah Sayyaan Allah Sayyaan
(God is Greatness, God is All)

This, to me, beautifully expresses the difference between chasing knowledge and finding wisdom. If you know how to think, even an Alif is enough. If not, then all the degrees in the world aren't enough.

World Cup Breaking News!!

2010-06-07T00:23:00.004+05:30

News just coming in from the training camp of the Netherlands football team has sent the entire nation into a state of frenzied expectations. Long been regarded as one of the best teams to have never won the World Cup, this dramatic turn of events has thrown the pre-tournament betting odds for a toss. It can now be confirmed that all the major bookies have listed The Oranje as odds on favorite for the title. This despite the injury scare to the mercurial match-winner, Arjen Robben.

We can now bring you reactions to this breaking news from the players and coach of the team themselves:

"We knew we were a great team with some terrific players. But to win such a tournament, you need something extra. This news has convinced us that we have what it takes to win the World Cup" - Wesley Sneijder

"I was worried if I could go the whole tournament without injury. Now I have no doubt" - Robin Van Persie (Van 1)

"This news makes it unnecessary for me to motivate my players. I can see the belief in their eyes" - Coach Bert Van Marjwik (Van 2)

"Though I'm not sure why I'm the captain, this news makes me feel like I already have one hand on the trophy" - Captain Giovanni Van Bronckhorst (Van 3)

"We Vans wanna win it for the fans" - Van 4, 5 & 6

"I'm not a Van, but I feel like one" - Dirk Kuyt, who was as usual, clueless.

Meanwhile, rival teams have reacted with shock and awe at the sudden news. While some tried to put on a brave face, others were more honest about their feelings.

"I'm glad I'm not the captain anymore" - John Terry

"At least now we have a ready excuse when we get dumped out in quaterfinal" - Frank Lampard

"It's almost a relief that I won't be starting any of the matches" - Thierry Henry

"But they still can't stop me. From diving" - Christiano Ronaldo

"Overcoming Maradona was tough. This makes it impossible" - Lionel Messi

So here it is folks, the news that is sending ripples of joy across the tiny nation where it is legal to fly, and shivers of foreboding amongst all others. I will be supporting the Oranje!

Victory

2010-05-09T22:50:00.002+05:30

To win. To be called a winner. To not be amongst the vast majority of non-winners that mankind is comprised of. If you haven't won, have you necessarily lost? A question none of us want to face. And so we all want to win.

But what does it take? Everything. A deceptively simple answer, yet a potent secret. A well-known secret, like so many others in life.

Along the way, there are defeats. Not once, nor a few, but necessarily several. Large soul-shattering ones, and small repeated nagging ones; both kinds testing your resolve, again and again. But there is a silver lining. That they do more than test you. They teach.

It is a peculiarly human trait. We can know from the examples of others, but we only truly learn from our own lives. So every lesson must be found in the debris of failure, every dream must have its roots in the depths of defeat. Everything else is transient, superficial, an idle wish that will be extinguished in the violent gusts of fate.

The pursuit of victory is ennobling. It is a purging of yourself from the seduction of the mundane. Sacrifice is essential. It is only in the giving up of the valuable that you let yourself know that which is most valuable. But isn't that the hardest thing to do? Not really. Not when you know you're on the right path, towards the dream that keeps you awake at night. And when you are, every sacrifice along the way is easy.

Isolation

2010-04-07T02:20:00.002+05:30

Break off all contact. From everyone you know, from every place you frequent, from everything familiar. Be alone, devoid of concern for any other, bereft of care, unaffected by affection, untouched by expectations, your own or anyone else’s. Live in the moment, in your skin. Breathe in, breathe out. Sense and respond. Think. Think a lot. And deeply. But seek not answers. No, that trap is all too seductive. Seek not answers to questions asked of you, nor answers to questions you wish to ask others. No, no answers now. Only thoughts, just ideas, bereft of purpose or design.

Shield yourself from the incessant bombardment of your being by the debris of other’s feelings. It takes practice, to be unmoved, to be indifferent, to be free. But only when you’re free from the clutter of an ordinary existence, can you learn to hear your own voice, discover your own self. Unlearning a lifetime of experiences, overcoming influences, to seek that which existed in yourself from the beginning, that which you doubted even existed, but that which makes all the madness worth it. For you are not a social animal. You are only an animal.

Assumptions are foolish, predictions are untrue, and explanations, useless. The truth is arrived at by consensus, by an invisible, unobservable referendum, on every issue, for every belief. Accept, if only to cease the onslaught, to declare a reluctant truce in the relentless meaningless battle. Because that is the only way they will let you be.

The company of people is addictive. To feel more than your singular self, to never feel lonely, to never feel at all. To drown out the unfamiliar uncomfortable voice within. To not have a single thought of your own. That is the only way to convince yourself that you are happy. Till, if you are unfortunate, you find happiness is not enough. The guilt of your happiness will gnaw at you and the smiles become harder and harder to smile. The effort of acknowledging everyone around you will drain you. Of the capacity to think, of even the awareness of its need. Embrace that fate. Or, break off all contact.

Hepburn - Incomplete

2010-03-03T20:55:00.005+05:30

Trying to make a version of the classic Hepburn picture. It is very much a work in progress. The mouth clearly needs reworking. I'm yet to decide whether to include her hand and whatever it is she's holding in it in the original picture. But considering that I'm already worried about the amount of effort sketching her hair will take, I'll probably end up skipping the hand.

Any suggestions on how this should turn out? Any other flaws you can notice? Comment away..

Arsenal-ysis

2010-02-25T01:22:00.001+05:30

A tough sequence of matches for Arsenal ends with no surprises. A horror show by Fabianski against Porto in Champions League makes for an intriguing return leg. Earlier, comprehensive defeats at the hands of United and Chelsea brought another Premier League season built more on hope than ability to an abrupt end. Victory over Liverpool was expected and duly achieved, and much depends on how many points the other two, Man Utd and Chelsea, drop over the remaining games. But I, for one, believe this Arsenal team, like all the others in recent seasons, has far too many weaknesses to come anywhere close to a title challenge. That they are still in the top 3, and have Man Utd and Chelsea in their sights, is a testament to Wenger's managerial ability. But that is also where the problem lies.

The old adage 'Good is the worst enemy of great' comes to mind when describing the Arsenal sides of the past few years. They've been too good to become great. Built with a modest budget, which is dwarfed by that of most teams in the top half of the EPL, while servicing the debt of an expensive stadium, Arsenal have stuck to their policy of developing home-grown talent. Buying teenagers has been the modus operandi of Wenger, blooding them into the first team and sticking with them despite many failures. I can't count the number of players who, when they first played for Arsenal, seemed so horrendous, that it was incredible they could be playing professional football at all. Yet, in the past, this unique approach to building a team paid rich dividends, with players like Adebayor, Flamini, Hleb going from virtual unknowns to reputed performers at the highest level. Turning ordinary players into good ones is commendable, but a great team is not made of good players alone. It needs to have a few good ones that can develop into greats. Past Arsenal teams had these by the dozen. Viera, Henry, Pires were all good players with potential and went on to become Arsenal greats.

As I see it, Arsenal has problems in four areas. Forward, Midfield, Defense and Goalkeeping. Everything else is good. I'll start in the order of the place they take on the pitch, because I really can't judge which of the problems is more (de)pressing.

1. Forwards are needed in any football team

This basic axiom of football is being flouted with abandon by Wenger, with potentially disastrous consequences. His failure to bring in any sort of striker in the January window could be one of his most questionable ones in the recent past. How he felt the team could go on without a single striker playing up front, with the makeshift deployment of the talented yet diminutive Arshavin, to face title rivals and expect to win, is a mystery. Sure, Arshavin can score goals and very good ones at that. Yet, he is no match for the tall and bulky central defenders of any team and Arshavin himself said as much. In his spell as a striker, he scored less than he did from midfield and made a far lesser impact on the game in general. In addition, he got battered physically and now joins Van Persie on the treatment table.

So why didn't he buy someone to lead Arsenal's attack in January? Because of one Nicholas Bendtner.

You know you have a problem when Bendtner is called upon to save the day. The Dane has been on the fringes of the Arsenal first team for a long while, and his every performance has exposed his questionable technique and lack of composure in front of goal. Yet, it is he who is championed by Wenger as the man who can provide the goals. A bad first touch, inability to dribble and a tendency to sky every shot are too many faults for a striker to possess. Yet he is tall and strong and young. And these are qualities that form the basis on which Wenger hopes to turn this profligate player into a player worthy of wearing Arsenal colors. It is a feat he achieved with Adebayor, turning the giant with terrible technique into a fearsome striker capable of momentary brilliance. Alas, his lack of loyalty and greed eventually led him to richer pastures where one wonders if the excess of striking options will ever let him make the forward position in the team his own.

Outlook: Chamakh's move seems to be happening, and I am tempted to believe reports of his summer move especially because of a non-arrival this January. Why Wenger decided to sacrifice a perfectly good season, with a chance at silverware, so that he can get the player on the cheap for next season, beats me.

2. Weak little kids can't be defensive midfielders

Arsenal has plenty of attacking midfielders. Fabregas and Arshavin are world class, as is a fit Rosicky. Nasri, Walcott and Diaby though inconsistent, have potential. None, however, can fill the defensive midfielder slot left vacant by Flamini. Wenger shouldn't have let Diarra go as easily as he did. We are now left with baby-faced Denilson with strength of schoolboy to fill that crucial position that lets all the creative playmakers flourish. It is a job he does with considerable ineptitude. Weak in the tackle and a limited passing range, he is everything you don't expect in a Brazilian. Song is being groomed for the role, but as of now, he doesn't have the presence to ably perform in that role.

As a plus in the midfield, Rosicky has looked sharp after returning from his long injury. Strength, passing, vision and shot, all seem to be reaching top levels once again. He can only get better. Walcott is going to be a question mark, and he'll need more than a solitary good outing against mediocre opponents to convince me he is improving at a respectably trajectory.

3. Back from the grave defensive back-ups

I shudder to think what would happen if a day comes when Sol Campbell and Silvestre combine in the center of defense. The former was done and dusted, playing in not the Premier League, not the Championship, not the League One, but in League Two! And if you believe in miracles and the legend of the phoenix, he is back scoring goals in the Champions League for Arsenal. But soon enough, played a big role in the goal giveaway that followed.

While Vermaelen and Gallas are good together and have managed to stay fit (touchwood) for most of the season, there is urgent need for a solid back or two. Especially since Gallas can have only a season or two left in him.

4. Goalscoring goalkeepers

When your goalkeepers are more prolific than your forwards, something must seriously be wrong somewhere. First, Almunia set the example by pulling in Nani's harmless cross into the goal. Then Fabianski, eager to impress and outdo Almunia to become the Arsenal number one, scored much more emphatically against Porto. And if any doubts were left about his ability to create a goal from a non-threatening situation, he proved it by eagerly picking up Sol's backpass. But the blame for the error, for putting an underprepared goalkeeper lacking temperament into a pressure Champions League match must lie with Wenger. Goalkeepers have the ability to work behind the scenes, never hog the limelight, but yet play defining roles in the title challenges of any team. No team has every won any title with a suspect goalkeeper. All attempts to do so have resulted in failure, and this is a fact Wenger should have recognized by now. Almunia is not good enough. Fabianski is far from being ready.

Predictions:

Premier League: Third Place. They'll be close to second, and well away from fourth. I just hope that Wenger doesn't call it a 'good' season and maintains the status quo, team-wise, in the summer.

Champions League: Depends on the draw. A semi-final would be great though it seems unlikely.

Short Story: 'The Psychopath'

2010-02-05T22:33:00.005+05:30

This is written as a guest post ~~demanded~~ requested by Nikita and you can find it here on her blog. After several ~~threats~~ gentle reminders from her, here is the result. A word about Nikita first. She is a great inspiration to all us ordinary bloggers who live in the hope of the day when we too can get others to write our posts for us. For this piece, she has given the first line as a prompt. The blame for the rest of it lies solely with me.

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As she fumbled with the keys, partly because the biting cold had numbed her hands and partly because of his piercing gaze, she could feel her mouth going dry. After several nervous seconds, she managed to insert and turn the ignition key, and the roar of the engine broke the heavy silence that had hung in the air. She flicked on the car lights and pulled out of the parking spot. As the headlights shone on him, he started moving to his right. To her horror, she realized that he had his own car parked nearby and had no intention of letting her get away. She had to get out of that deserted parking lot fast.

She recalled the newspaper headlines in the last few weeks that described the horrific murders of young women. There had been five of them in the last three months. All women like her, single and alone, found dead with evidence of brutal rape and torture. Strangely, the police couldn’t find any trace of DNA left behind on any of the victims. A serial killer was on the loose and the police were clueless as to his identity.

For the past week, every news channel had aired countless psychiatric experts describing the prototypical serial killer. A psychopath, they said, had neither conscience nor empathy, the very qualities that let humans live in social harmony. Without them, he becomes a predator, ice running through his veins, capable of acts of extreme violence, without as much as batting an eyelid.

This ordeal had begun over an hour ago. She had noticed him first in a clothing store where she was shopping. He didn't seem particularly interested in clothes. When she saw him again in the shoe store, she became suspicious. After she had caught him glancing towards her a few more times, she began to get worried. There was no mistaking his intentions. She had begun running towards the parking lot. It was a move she would regret.

As she sped towards the only exit from the parking lot, she realized she was trapped. He had already blocked off that exit with a car. There was only one thing she could do. She pressed hard on the gas and rammed into the stationary land rover. The screeching tyres and the crunching of metal were the last sounds she heard before passing out.

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She woke up with a splitting headache. The throbbing in her head was overpowering. She tried to move but couldn’t. She was tied up, to a steel chair, in a dark room, with a single overhead lamp. The light from it stung her eyes. Gradually, her entire body started registering pain. And with it, the memory of her predicament came flooding back. The man, the chase, the parking lot, the car crash.

She heard sounds outside. The door swung open and her captor walked in. He pulled up a steel chair, sat across her, and slid a bunch of photographs towards her. They were pictures of the mutilated remains of the five dead women. She took a long time to look at them. She would not be intimidated. She looked up at him, straight in the eye, no hint of fear in them, and spoke in an unwavering voice, "You will never be able to prove that I did this."

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A story, a poem & a missed opportunity

2010-01-08T16:58:00.007+05:30

Here are my entries for a prestigious B-School competition. They served their purpose and got me to the next round and I eventually reached the finals. But an unavoidable clash of exam schedule and event dates forced me to skip the final round that is going on in IIM-C right now.

In this part of the contest, I had to pick two out of five pictures and write a short original piece of fiction based on it. Here are the pics and my write-ups.

Picture 1

The Story

It has been over a century since he had last killed someone. The memory of that day still made him shudder.
He had killed many times before, but he always chose his victims carefully so that he would not be haunted later by any stray pangs of remorse. He tailed his victims for months on end and only when he was convinced that their life of unrepentant crime and depraved debauchery had set them on the road to eternal damnation, only then did he move in to hasten their demise. But that night he had let impulse get the better of him. He picked her up on the street certain that this crack whore, had she been in her senses, would thank him for ending her miserable life.

It was only when he read in the papers the next day that a pregnant woman was found dead and bloodless did he realize that he had taken not one life, but two.

A century of grief filled remorse, starvation, isolation and repentance had shriveled him up to resemble a cold dead corpse. He would’ve suffered endlessly, the agony multiplied by the absence of the possibility of the sweet release of death.

Till one day he found a way. An old homeless drunk stumbled across him and fell dead in the dark alley. Before he knew it, he was kneeling down beside him and had sucked all his blood before the body could go cold.

And so he now waited by the bedside of the terminally ill, waiting for them to die.

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Picture 2

The Poem

The secret we share,
I can no longer hide,
It is not fair,
To everyone we’ve lied.

Come out with the truth,
It is the only path,
Fear not their fury,
Or an invisible God’s wrath.

We have not chosen,
Our heart’s forbidden desires,
Why must we deny,
What our love requires?

You love me,
And I love you,
And while I profess,
You’re afraid to confess.

For it is love between us,
As commonplace as any other,
Yet the rarest thing there is,
Between one man and another.

When you can feel it in your soul,
Who can tell you it’s not true?
When it brings a smile, makes you whole,
Why wish that they approved?

Short Story: Far Away from Home

2009-12-29T00:10:00.007+05:30

It had been a cold dark day, one of many in the recent past. I looked out of the window and watched the last remnants of daylight fade slowly away, dropping the already sub-zero temperature outside even lower. It has been over a week since I had last stepped out.

It didn't matter how many layers of clothing I wore, the cold outside still swept inside through the seams, bored through my skin and sucked out all the warmth from within. First the fingers go numb even through the thick insulative gloves, as the body tries frantically to keep the core body temperature up and gives up on the non-essential extremities. Then your toes feel as if they're in contact with ice and walking becomes harder and harder. Your breath vapors start condensing on your lenses and you try to wipe them clear with your frozen glove clad fingers. By now, you're aware of the audible chattering of your teeth as the insides of your mouth start becoming dry. You can feel your tongue grow cold and stiffen so that you only mumble when you try to speak. And finally, the shivering sets in. The cold has now completely penetrated through the layers of warm clothing and the muscle tissues begin to vibrate with increasing amplitude trying to generate heat by expending energy. If you don't find a warm shelter soon, your entire body will start aching. And even if you do enter a warm place, it'll take several minutes for the shivering to stop and the feeling to return in your limbs again as the body temperature rises slowly.

Which is why I haven't been out in over a week. Nothing much to see and do outside either. When I first arrived here not too long ago, everything was fantastic in its uniqueness. Every rock, every structure, every sight seemed ethereal. The other-worldly quality of this strange place seemed strange and wondrous. Now it just makes me homesick.

Home is far far away, worlds apart from this inhospitable place. It is a place with sunshine and laughter and cool breezes across open spaces. It's been a while since I've heard laughter.

Everyday for the past few weeks, I've stood right here pressed up against this window at right about this time looking out at the distant horizon. For as the sky slowly darkens, a thousand brilliant stars come into view and I almost feel how the planet beneath my feet glides through the dark immensity of space, silently and irresistibly in motion, going around the distant giant ball of exploding gas.

I watch familiar constellations come into view and finally, the moment I wait for, no, live for, everyday is here. Amongst the hundreds of twinkling stars in the distance, there rises from the horizon a steady light, brighter and truer than all the rest, with a faint blue tinge.

That is home, and I am the first man on Mars.