The Ingular Doctrine

As I was going through the latest huffpost couple of days ago, my eyes caught attention on an ad about the latest attempt by Microsoft to unseat Google - Bing.com. 'You are defined by the choices you make' - said the catchphrase. An intelligent but simple ad, much better than the Seinfeld-gates attempt which reeked of antiquated humor.

From then it was a predictable journey wherein I began thinking on length, breadth and height of that statement. I looked back and thought of some choices made by me and people I intimately know and pondered over their implications over future. And there in, immersed in the pool of those interluding thoughts I realized the fallacy in that statement. I am of course talking about 's'. Now I know some may say 'Not Again'. 'Not another war with another alphabet'. I know you may also throw your arms up in the air and say, its a simple alphabet, what harm can it possible do, Leave it alone. But as I have mentioned previously, DO NOT EVER TAKE ALPHABETS LIGHTLY. I know its used everywhere, heck I am using it right now in my words as I speak. But see the thing is... the thing is... s is only as good as long as WE control it. Its a whole different ball game when s starts to control us. See, I believe that the world would be much of a simple place if there were no plural (do u notice, i have cunningly removed s in the end?).

Choice and Choices

Chance and Chances

Car and Cars

Imagine. You had a piece of bread. Any intelligent man would know what to do. Eat it.

Now imagine, you had breads. You can eat one or may be two or three. But what do you do with rest of them? Do you store them? Do you share it with your incessantly annoying brother? A whole Pandora's box opens up with so many options, and so much processing required. As I say if you gotta think over something, you better outsource it to the call center in Delhi. Do you see what I am talking about? I eventually would need a call center to tell me what to do with that bread. All that nuisance just because of an extra s.

The power of one s has been befuddling me. And there in lies my core belief - that all good things come in singular. War has habit to become Wars but there is only one Peace- no Peaces. May be people won't kill or deceive each other if they knew that they had only one choice of being good. May be we won't waste paper if we knew all that paper comes from just a tree.

Now I imagine there will be these radicals who will voice that its this s and that the gift of choosing is the greatest gift bestowed upon mankind. To them I say 'you are wrongs'. I know these people will argue that all species make choices but none can process information as eloquently as us humans and its this processing which makes our daily mundane life a tad bit different tomorrow from what is today. To them I say again 'you are wrongs'.

Here is my argument: The Universe spiraled into what it is today because it had only one choice. It had to bang in a big way. What could it do? Burst like a pop-corn. That is for wimps. What kind of starting would that be? It would be so simple that even a caveman could write a book on origins of our universe. Then where would all our नाड़ा theorists (string theorists) go??? Could there be any other choice other than nuclear fusion to make stars, galaxies and our milky way (suck up nuclear fission!). Does black hole have a choice in deciding whom it should eat and whom it should spare? Answer to all of these is of course a resounding NO.

Then why must we not follow what our billion year old wise universe has been telling us. Why must I decide every morning when I wake up: should I apply butter or fruit jam on my Sara Lee 100% Wheat bread?

No I don't fault you for believing that having options is a good thing. It is because we have evolved ourselves to believe that way. And that is another problem given birth by s - Evolution. Single cell bacteria evolved to multi-cellular organisms, which evolved to make fish, which evolved to make amphibians, and the dinosaurs, then the big G (the God) realized 'holy crap, I ordered humans not dinosaurs', so he sent an asteroid to clean bowl them over. And then he put up a new bid and apes formed which evolved into humans.

All this because Evolution had choices. Now imagine if it had not gone that way. If DNA had only one choice to decide our fate. We would be like Mr. Phillis Dexter

Mr. Phillis Dexter

Would that be so awful?? That we all humans/species look like him. There would no fights, no ego problems, everyone would be Mr/Mrs Universe. We would be living in a Utopia. And is that not what all aspire for?

But I know people will not realize the gravity of this situation. They think s as simple and harmless. People who have played 'finding the word' in a map would appreciate that sometimes the most difficult word to find is the one which is 'just there' - big, bold and even italicized perhaps. We spend our time to find that word hoping it has been perhaps written in font size 7, and that is why is invisible. But No. The brazenness of that cunning word lies in hiding itself in plain sight. That is exactly what this s has been doing. Sitting silently and watching the world ruin itself.

If it were up to me, I would urge UN to ban s from the world. You wake up one morning and all words with s gone. Puffff. Just like that. Try speaking following lines

Mom, can I get ome ugar for my milk??

Excue Me, you hould not take your hoes in temple. It i acred.

And in forms you will have to fill 'Ex: Male/Female' (now would that not be interesting question to answer :D)

Wa it too hard?

I know its a long shot. The way s has penetrated in our daily life is so deep that we might never be able to free ourselves from its slavery. But we must rise against the tyranny and hegemonic leadership of s. At least at the minimum we must immediately stop it use in all suffix. We might need to retire it before it retires us and substitute it with some different alphabet. Perhaps a Q or a Z. Both of them have been under appreciated in our culture. May be its time to bring them to limelight.

But until then, may I be bold enough to pray for you to live life one choice at a time :) And may that choice be easy to make....

War of Months...

Long long time ago, came the twelve months together

and promised to form a year, to live under the same banner

Some had odd no of days and some were happy to be even

They shared different seasons under the same skies and heaven

Pain or pleasure come what may

would be distributed in equal say

With time the months of odd

grew odds with months of even

Because of the extra day they thought they had

they thought they had to endure pain more bad

They formed a group headed by the July

a month of rains they thought could rely

Evens had no choice but to choose the June

a month of summers they thought was more attune

In an open meadow one fine sunny day

they met under a tree with swords drawn and made of clay

June tried to reason with July

We are all the same, parts of same tribe

You think you have an extra day of pain

but for us evens its same pain compressed in 30 days

We feel more fraction of pain everyday

the same which you feel in 31 days

But July wouldn't listen.

Months of odd made fun and ridiculed

the months with less than 31 days

July found an August company who came handy

with a chocolate cake and candy

Accused June and ones with 30 days

of playing a difficult game and eating ruffles lays

The months of even stunned and amazed

This turnaround befuddled them and left them in haze

Months of even reminded the odds of times they had

that each month followed the others no matter how bad

But months of odd laughed and said it was all in good sense

and so they went different ways beyond times fence

A year got split in the two

February was lonely as it was at times even and at times odd

so the evens took it under their umbrella broad

thus now we have months without Junes summer breeze

without July's cloudy skies

Without Decembers cold winters

And without April's springy surprise

Evens looked, shook their head and went on

Looked back couple of times

and saw months of odd in celebrations

happy in the clan of extra days they dined in their mansions

Then after a time long gone by

times that paled those sunny skies

the months of odd talked once again but of being slain

of fading echoes and ankles with sprain

Standing with new company, they muttered about autumn frost

It was a choice involving more than a stamps cost

If only they could see what others had to sustain

They would have not killed the very dreams

they had promised to nurture and maintain

and the year would still be together

but saying all this is just is vain

a year, a month are just another piece of a long chain

Seasons of spring, winter, autumn and summer

will return and bare earth will touch the feel of rain again

I, Robot and I want a diaper

Time and again I have tried to put this very clear that I am a 'dreamer'. And yeah yeah I am not the only one. Yada. Yada. But I take the business of dreaming more seriously than anyone else (except John Dorion). I have fought more ghosts in my dream to put ghostbusters to shame. I have rescued princesses more number of times than Prince of Persia and I have reveled in more cheesecake than which can be churned by The Cheesecake Factory. Not only that, I have single handedly won every major Nobel, Grammy, Oscar and Victoria’s Cross than a mere mortal is allowed to boast of. Just other night I won an Emmy for playing Mr Garcia, the horse rider. Its a show in which Mr Garcia rides the horse. No other character or dialogues, just Mr. Garcia and the horse. And - listen this, recently I lived inside my apartment for 14 consecutive days and survived on drinking, eating and schmoozing on dreams alone. Survive that Bear Grylls!

Nevertheless I had yesterday what I would call pointe-de-zenithio of my dreams. It was one of those dreams, which when you have you never want to wake up. And I wouldn't have woken up except for the minor case of bladder emergency. Two parts of brain, two ears, two eyes and one bladder? Remind me, I need to make a backup storage unit to rectify Gods mistake.

So here is what happened:

The year: 2018.

I had just finished my book and national bestseller "I, Robot and I want a diaper". It was a soul searching and gut-wrenching story of one robot who got tired one day of leaking grease from its arm-pits and decided to rebel against its makers for right to poop more gracefully. Stripped of its dignity it had no choice but to stage a dharna in front of World Nations Head Quarters (Lonavala, India). And for rest what happened you can read on your own. (You can pre-order copies from Amazon.com, all that money will go into charity to make my palace in Central Park, NY).

It had been on National bestseller list for 10 straight months and had even put Rowlings never ending saga of 'Harry potter' behind (Yeah, by 2018 she had made Lord Voldemort alive again - and for the 4th time! Harry and Hermione had sort of a one night stand and their love child became the next wizard to fight Voldemort.) This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life. I knew it would come. And it did. The phone rang. I picked up. And yes - this was it.

'Hold on now, you are so close.'

Yes, I had just been called for an interview with none other than Stephen Colbert to discuss my book! Now SC or Steve as I love to call him is not a mere mortal sir. He is a rare combination of beauty with brains. Of spectacular eyes with moustacheless machomism. And he delivers. Faster than FedEx, DHL or pigeons of world war 2. He is more than a cultural icon. In fact on my desktop, he is the only icon.

Steve is a legend. His roast in 2006, his numerous moments of head-butting, tongue twisting, word wrapping have made him more powerful than Dalai Lama, Popes and Garfield put together. And I, his greatest living Indian fan had been preparing for this 'Lakshya' my whole life. This ladies and gentleman was the actual reason for me to write that book. Years of strategy learnt from 'Apprentice' had finally paid off.

My thrillness knew no bounds! To be on the sets of Steve, was going to be the greatest eve of my life I had set to achieve!

I am now on the sets of 'The Colbert Show' and as it happens I would be interviewed by Steve in last 10 mins. I am trembling and sitting there I am wondering if there is earthquake and if there is why the hell everybody is not being evacuated. Oh no, its just me. I prayed lord to give me strength and courage to face my hero and check if I had my handkerchief in my upper pocket in case I can’t... hold myself back

Wooooo.... Wooooo... Yey... Yey... Rise ladies and gentlemen... (Stephen does his routine to reach the desk of the invited speaker). And then he comes and sits across that famous polished hard wood desk bought from Ikea for 1o0$.

SC: Now ladies and..

Me: OMG! OMG! OMG! (Shrieking manly and uncontrollably)

SC (suddenly startled)

Me: OMG... steve... I am here... its you... dude, is this real?

SC (startled n continues): Yeah, and ladies and gentleman tonight we have a special guest who is going to speak on the agony of being a robot whose rights to poop were taken off before he was born. So Sir, why should we be concerned off...

Me: Stephen, how do you do it? I have been watching you for 15 years now, and I cannot imagine I am sitting right across my idol, my hero, my santa claus. I have a room plastered with your greatest moments.

SC: Well Dr Anand, I appreciate very much but as I was saying

Me: Stephen, can I hold your hands??

SC: Excuse Me?

Me: Yeah... I want the memory of this moment to last forever. If Deathstar now decides to implode our planet, I want this to be the last memory on this planet earth before I join you in heaven. I'll be your screenwriter, copyrighter, Xerox boy or even your co-desk-sharer if you want.

SC: hmmm... well sorry I already gave the spot of accompanying me to heaven to my first screenwriter. But lets go on, what is this book about? How did you get inspiration to write this?

Me: Fine. We will come to my proposal later... to be honest, it isn’t that one day I got hit in head and decided to write something. Its just that I watched my girlfriend Candella11A and we talked about certain...

SC: wait a min! Candella11A?

Me: Oh right, yeah my girlfriend. She is a class A robot. She feels somewhat hurt if I mention that she is not human. But we have been together for last three years now.

SC: Oh, so you are one of those interspecial couples. How did this happen?

Me: Well, it was sort of a chance meet. I was walking inside a major Science Exhibition couple of years ago, when I accidently bumped into someone. When I looked at her, she was simply the shiniest, glossiest thing I had ever seen. I knew it right then that we have to be together. And then I helped her get up, and put back her batteries where it should be and that’s how it all started. Next day I went her home with an Energizer AA set and apologized and she graciously put them behind her eye sockets. Her Laser eyes glimmered with a shine equivalent to 10 Saturn moons on a starry night that day.

SC: So three years and still going strong?

Me: Yups, pretty much. I wake up every day, fill her up with Penz Special Grade Oil first thing in morning and in between we chat, sms from time to time and I even monitor her from my office using a webcam. Just the other day I surprised her by bringing the newest i6400 core processor from Intel.

SC: But why her??

Me: Well many reasons. Unlike female homo sapiens, she doesn’t argue, doesn’t waste money, no drama, no anger and she doesn’t get hot - even when I hide her Cooling Unit. And she does the best job in the whole world in ironing my pants (I stand up and show my wrinkle-free pants to the audience). See... See not a single wrinkle anywhere! What more can a guy want?

SC: hahaha, ok. Fascinating. Do your parents know about it? how did they react to it? And what about next step?

Me: It was hard at first, but now they seem to understand. And we haven't thought about it yet, but we might go for IVRF (In-vitro Robo Fertilization). You know science has come great way, now next gen robots have ovaries inside them. Candella11A is of last generation so she didn’t had any, but we are talking about it. Let’s see.

SC: Ok. so what about this book...

Me: Forget it Steve... Steve can I ask you a ques? What hair gel brand do you use? I have tried so many, but I just can’t get mine to look as slick as yours. And what about your eye frame? What do you use to polish those silvery frames? BTW, I am your biggest Indian fan you know that?

SC: Laughing. Oh that can’t be true.

Me: Seriously, see I have been waiting for this moment my entire adult life or at least since I met you on my Philips 32 inch TV. Now would you tell me what brand of cereals you use for your breakfast? How about a lunch at my place? Candella11A cooks an awesome shaahi paneer.

SC (laughing): You sir, with your awesome awesomeness have just Stephened me on my own show.

Me: Hey Stephen, I just stephened you. Don’t I get a cool nickname for doing that?

SC (laughing): You meathead, I declare you my greatest Indian fan possible.

Me: Meathead? Me! yaiyyyyyyyy

and then yaiyyyy cut short for the bladder emergency :(

Disclaimer: All the stuff mentioned above is a surreal hypothetical stuff. DO NOT PRINT IT AND INGEST IT.

For the Übergeek

Fascinated by Tattoos?? I am not really fond of piercing your epidermial cell line for funzies, but I admit seeing the following article I am having other thoughts.

Check this

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/loom/science-tattoo-emporium/

Here are some which I liked

Einstein vs Newton

Schroedinger's Equation

Before DNA

If I have seen further, it is only by standing on the shoulders of giants

And my personal favorite: A Pi in my heart

A Kitchen side story

Dear Bhindi Masala,

Adios!

You might find it strange that instead of greeting you welcome first, I am bidding you with goodbyes first. Adios is however not a simple straight word for me and shortly madam you will know why.

Let me refresh your memory. We met at a party where we had spent an entire lunch sitting on the same luncheon table. I know we barely had spent much time over then. But you have been running on my mind ever since then. Stupid as I am, I should have taken your phone number.

I was brought in by the chef and served hot at 2:20 PM. As I waited to be devoured to what looked like a very hungry crowd in front of me, I had subscribed myself to the worst fate imaginable. I knew soon the pitch forks will be raised, and if I am lucky enough my heart will be pierced by a spoon and piece by piece I will become a piecemeal lunch for the one with the overgrown moustache and the lady with too much of red lipstick. But that then is purpose of everything created by our creator. Perhaps you are thinking that I have developed the bout of philosophy in my dying moments or I have become mad because the too much zeera has been sprinkled over me.

Do you know that our journey had started together long before we met at the lunch table?

You see, I was getting a dressing down on the opposite counter when you were being washed, cleaned and sawed. I had freshly been culled and had just been stripped off my dignity right in front of you. But you were too busy with your own private matters so perhaps you missed to watch a chicken get sloshed and waterboarded. In that room, oddly called 'kitchen' everyone I know has died. I guess it was my time. So we were set on the opposite corners, ready to be bludgeoned by our creators. We crossed each others path once a while. I saw that man who looked at us and glowered with his yellowish black teeth and uttered 'Mast khaanaa banega aaj saheb ke liye'. I do not trust people with yellowish black teeth and so don't condemn me when I say that, that character looked far more sinister and suspicious to me. What were his intentions? Is he going to put us in tandoori or he'll make us drown in excess of taree. We would soon find out. I saw as he started the fire and massacered onions before putting them on the pan to do sauté. I looked at you and if my spine had not been ripped off, it would have sent shivers down all the way through it. You looked so vulnerable, so innocent, doll like. As I was pierced right through my heart and crucified on the grill, I saw that man holding your pan in his hand and saying 'sarkaye diyo mirachwa, tadkaa lagey'. As he prepared to put salt, degi mirch and turmeric powder in that tadka it shook me that soon madam, you will be introduced to all that fiery heat. Little did I realize that my own tadka had just been prepared and I will be immersed in that whirlpool of smouldering, boiling taree. Our fates had been tied together by some divine will it seemed. As it happened with me, I saw it happening to you. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I cried, desperately howled, but my voices drowned in the background music of 'aeeeeeee huzoooooooor... tera tera tera surooooooooooooooooor". Everything it seemed was simply against us. I saw you become soft and tender under all that heat. I saw you bend and break under it. I saw you becoming silent eventually. Is she dead? Is she alive?

I couldn't find out because I was apparently ready and so taken out by the cold hands and put into this kadhaai. Put on a plate. They even covered me with a cover dish so that all the steam of my torment may not find a way to escape. Perhaps they were afraid of UN. Or of Media. That I am a distant minority undergoing suppression in hands of overlords would have attracted likes of Mayawati. But no. The cold hands of those kitchen makers are far too strong with ties too sinister. Nevertheless I had no choice but to sit on that lunch table alone and wait for my fate. I wondered though what happened of you.

And then you were brought in. In a Golden round bowl! Madam, I had never seen a vegetable dish look more delicious than you. What an amazing transformation! Sitting next to the salad plate, you were covered with green peppermint leaves with sprinklings of tomato and fresh onions. Could you have looked more beautiful?? I could see the dal makhani eyeing your thunder and suffering diarrhea of jealousy. Somewhere lying in all that taree, my heart skipped few beats. And the aroma! For first time instead of cursing the guy with yellowish black teeth, I marveled at his mastery to create such a fine piece. It was pure and simple art. I tried to hide my pouch belly and fatty overcooked piece of hurriedly cut square pieces. Sitting next to that beautiful masterpiece I felt too hideous.

And then it began. The most memorable trip of my life. Dont be coy. We were brought together occassonally by that unstoppable power of spoon, mixed up together, piece by piece, and gobbled up in one slow motion sometimes with chawal and sometimes with roti. Sometimes we fought for more space on that spoon. And ofcourse the times when you and I were completely lost in one another with our salts and pepper intermingling in the taree. I could not have wished to be consumed in a more fashionable way. We knew it could end. But there was a hope that may be they would order a second serving? A third? Who knew of the future? Maybe they will keep on ordering and it would never end. But then also, would they even finish this serving? Who knew?

But as you now are aware of, there was a twist in the fate. It appeared the rest of us would be taken 'to go' and on different destinations. And hence the requirement to write this letter.

Madam, whether others know or not, but I am the lone witness of whatever happened on that lunch that day. And I assure you, that lunch meant more to me then all the taree and condiments put together.

Hope you keep your spices hot and tomatoes fresh.

Adios!

Yours sincerely

Malaai Tikka