Meaningless

I have been trying so hard for the past few days to convey something to you. It is something that sits in my mind and reminds me of it ever so often. It is something that comes up from the back of my head during every conversation, every new thought, every repeated thought as well.

While it is easy for me to think of it and know that it is true, it is hard as hell for me to tell. Because the thing that I want to communicate is about this means of communication itself. As inefficient as it can get, I know it, think it, feel it, but man made words are so inefficient that I cannot communicate their inefficiency to you.

I bet you did not get this. Cause I told you, words are TRULY meaningless. I know you will not agree.

The Treat

The end of each day
Brought new hope
The end of each hour
Brought more waiting
The end of each moment
Brought more impatience



Impatience, waiting, hope
For what the next day would bring
For the excitement
For the discoveries to be made
For the joy of something new
For the contentment



It was a great treat
It was a world where
She could enter for a few minutes
And feel the tension
Like being on a rollercoaster
No. Even better.



Every morning brought a new one
Something she rose early to wait for
Every morning in the fog
The delivery boy brought a newspaper
To her doorstep
And she could do her favourite ..
Sudoku!

People? Pigeons?

How lonely you can be in a crowd
When they are pushing, jostling, shoving, yelling, cursing
When they are everywhere
Trying to go somewhere, ending up nowhere
Like a pigeon - fluttering its wings, not knowing where to go

How alive can you feel
When they leave traces of their existence everywhere
Just traces of existence
Nothing more than that
Like a pigeon - "trapped" in a room though its doors are open

The poor chap made into my workplace today and could not find his way out, in spite of our efforts to shoo him out through our various windows and large door.
"He", if He really is there, has a twisted, convoluted sense of humour. Nevertheless I had a laugh, thanks.

Beautiful Mathematics

I met a person recently who told me that he was doing a PhD in Mathematics. I always have had awe for people who are researching in Math or Physics. Having read stories of physicists and mathematicians who were glorified by war efforts to build "The bomb" and all the frenetic activity that went with it, I always have wondered if the people of the present generation have much to offer that will take the whole world by storm like Einstein and others did in their time. Does anyone today, have the opportunity to capture the imagination of the entire world, with theories that would destroy the theories that we have held to be true for a few hundred years?
What does this Math PhD guy do really? I regretted asking the question after I saw how uncomfortable it made him. He mumbled a few words about how "research in Mathematics is never really with an application in mind. You know, you have some math... and... you work around with it you know... and see what you get from it.." he trails off. I am still listening expectantly. "You know, you can work with it for years and never really get anywhere..". Then he goes on, "You know, math is full of axioms, so we never can say if we are getting anywhere by accepting them". His voice trails off again. Then I got his point. He thought I was too stupid to get it in technical terms.
"So it is more like free thinking? You turn axioms out of your mind and try looking at things differently?", I asked. At my mention of 'free thinking' he jumped. He excitedly says that is so and that it was free thinking without being bothered about applications. "More like art for art's sake?" Yes he says, beautiful Mathematics. They have trouble getting funds for their work. No one can explain why beautiful Mathematics is important. That is if you can explain to someone (especially people who are in charge of supplying funds) how math can be beautiful in the first place.
Then again, isn't Mathematics our feeble attempt to understand a universe that has so many mysteries? We take pleasure in knowing that there are some numbers that seem to resonate with the universe and occur everywhere - like pi. There are others that we will never understand, never feel and never be able to imagine like infinity. Yet Mathematics is our only tool aiding us in hope of understanding the universe - a means to find order in chaos, an attempt to structure and organize life. Almost like religion that is based on strong beliefs, passed down from generation to generation, and little else.

Incoherence

Headphones throb, head sings.
Speech blurs, sight slurs.
False dreams feed real fires
False fires burn true drives
Gossip marathon is won again
One marathon is a lot of gossip
Too many characters to the drama
Too many dramas to the character
Science is the only refuge of the dreamer
The dreamer is the only hope of science
People sense and make no blabber
Sleep dangerous is extremely deprivation

Go get more sleep

This blog

Today I gave a fresh look at my prized blog. I wondered why I had started writing in the first place. I re-read many posts trying to find a thread, trying to find what the blog can be classified as. I have kept out personal details of any kind here. Unless you know me personally, you wouldn't even know my name from the kind of anonymity I keep up. I have not named my occupation. I have left an inkling of what I have been educated to be. So the blog leaves out these important details that have to be filled in every form and letter - considered to be most essential to your identity. Yet, the blog is filled with an essence of who I am, even if it does not convey every aspect of who I am. At the end of this session, I am appalled at the amount of information I give away to a reader who would care enough to read into every word that I have said here. I have taken pains to keep out my identity on the net and yet I have ended up telling you so many many things. It tells me so many things about myself, about my evolution as an individual. But all this is only because I think I know myself. I wonder what it tells somebody else.

Tempest

It rose and it fell with the fury of hell
It roared and it thrashed. It soared and it crashed
The force that drove it - seemingly infinite

It hissed and spat. Then it rolled out flat
It sat so quiet, the end of its riot.
The force that had driven it - was it spent?

Force of such kind, akin to that of your mind
When it gains the right bent, can never be spent
There it does roll -limitless

Flying high

He felt so proud
Soaring above everyone else
He looked back down at me
He felt safe up there

I fed some more cord
He soared a bit more
He went with the wind
With the wind he swayed

The colours adorning him loud
So he could be seen far and wide
He strayed as far away
As the cord in my hand allowed

I watched amazed
At the heights that he can soar to
At how he swam the skies
How with the wind he played

I was standing aground
He looked so high
That was when I saw a sight
That woke me up today

While the kite in my hand
Soared imagined heights
A bird passed it by
Dressed in soft, pastel shades

I dropped my precious cord
I did learn something new
Why when you can flap your wings
Why tie yourself with cords

Spread them out and fly away. That is what real flight is.

How to make the world a better place?

Just introduce to every human, ultimate joy, by showing him the results of his productivity. Not grades. Not monetary benefits. But actual results. Show him the houses where the tiles polished by the machine he built are laid, show him the people who enjoy the food that he helped grow and produce. And that, my good people, will make every man better, happier and healthier.

What's with your language

Vowels go into the dustbin. Spellings get kicked out the back door
You play with the capslock button like you did with the neighbour's door bell
The question mark gets your concern. You don't want it to be lonely
So you put a dozen of them together.
To make it more jolly add a couple of exclamations. Weave a string or a garland with them
Invent abbreviations as you go. Or maybe create expansions for meaningless strings of consonants.
Originality? Or a mask to cover the lack of it.
Laziness? Then why write at all!

Language was invented to communicate, not to flabbergast people and leave them frustrated enough to write out rants like these.