Tooth fairies, fantasy and dasavatharam

I know I haven't been writing for a while. Blame it on a super hectic month followed by an India trip followed by an even more hectic month and then the holiday season. Anyway, I wrote this post before leaving for India, but couldn't get around to putting it up. So here it is.. Also, hope to write about the India trip soon.. We'll see when I get around to doing that..

I read this post on Hallucinations about a conversation between 2 six year olds about tooth fairies- one girl knows they do not exist and the other doesn't. It made me wonder what I really thought about fairies and stuff when I was a kid. Very early in life, my mom told me Santa Claus was just someone I know dressed up with a fake beard. And my dad told me that the people you watch on TV are just acting (that was because I would get way too depressed seeing characters die or get hurt on TV!). I remember reading way too much Enid Blyton (I think I read everything from the Red story book to the Book of pixies) and trying to imagine that my toys could talk at night. It was fun to imagine, but even then I knew it wasn't true.

The fantastic things I truly believed in then were quite mundane. Like the fact that there is a supernatural power watching your every move and waiting to restore the balance in the world. Or that good begets good. That if you keep hoping, everything will turn out alright. They are nice to believe in as a kid. Sometimes, even as an adult. It is nice to do your part and assume that "there is somebody who made you and cares for you, and who will help you if you do the best of what you can".
But as I grew older, I decided that these ideas were as fantastic as the idea that tooth fairies exist. That the reason to do the right thing is not because you will be rewarded in the end, but because the doing is itself the reward.
Funnily though, I admit that the made up sentences(or ideas) work. Telling yourself not to give up because all that hard work has gotta pay back does give you enough confidence to last the last mile. (You see what I did there? :P) When you have been back-stabbed or are generally cynical, telling yourself that good begets good motivates you to go on doing good. So you see, even though I think these sentences are made up, I use them all the time. 

Then, the truly amazing thing about all this is not the fact that I realized as I grew up that these ideas are made up, but how these conflicting ideas can co-exist in my head (and in the head of the kid about whom that author was writing). I can drown hours in imagination, I can tell myself confidently that it will all work out in the end. And yet I know these are just sentences I am making up. (To some people, this might smell of hypocrisy. But maybe I will write about my justification for it some other time).Anyway, that reminds me of the Tamil movie Dasavatharam. There is this conversation in the end which beautifully sums up all I have to say about the co-existence of rationality and fantasy.
 
The translation goes this way-
Asin: Why do you say there is no God?
Kamal: I am not saying that God does not exist. I am just saying it would be wonderful if he did.

Let them be

(Statutory warning: This is one of the posts that I warned you about on the other page. Long and serious- so if you don't have the stomach for it, go eat a doughnut instead.)

The day I wrote this Today (I actually wrote this post a couple of months ago, but never got around to publishing it), I was reading an article about women and forced parenthood when I came across a line that sums up pretty much 90% of my beliefs. I suddenly realized I have never written about my core philosophy so I thought this is a good time to write it down. I am sorry if it ends up sounding like I am moralizing or advising- by the very nature of this philosophy, I can't be.

The idea is:
"People are different and need different things. Society (and we, as a part of it) should support this premise without judging them on it. But only as long as their 'needs' don't harm other human beings".

To me that much is obvious. But just to explain, think about what you would do in the following scenarios..

The rat race of fun and the meaning of life

Courtesy: http://www.cafepress.com/ironydesigns/923434
You can get this on a T-shirt there.

You know how people say you must live for yourself- live by your own standards, don't worry what people say, stick to your principles blah de blah. By now you probably know I am quite the supporter of that ideology. It's your life and you get only one chance at it etc.

That being said, it is quite hard to actually stick to it. Especially in this day and age. (I am sure millions have said the same thing about their day and age, but anyway.) There are too many things available for us to do, travel is a lot more affordable and convenient, more activities are open to people, and above all information about everything is at your fingertip, quite literally. As an obvious consequence, there is too much of a competition to DO things.

"Oh, you went to Yosemite this weekend, I flew to this obscure mountain village and drank this amazing drink they make out of trees that only grow in that region. It's a once in a lifetime thing. Everyone must totally do it." Gone are the days when I could just watch the Sun TV Top 10 movies on Sunday morning and think that my weekend was done.

The worst part is that I didn't even realize I was caught in it till I read this article. Unknowingly, subconsciously, I had joined the rat race of "fun". Which wasn't half as much about fun as about posting your pictures on Instagram. Unknowingly I began to think of weekends as lists of things to complete and places to visit rather than plain sleeping time.

Anyway, reading that article made me realize that the things I want are really simple- like looking at the stars, taking walks in the morning, and of course, popping bubble wrap. They involve almost no money and yet are priceless. They may mean nothing to most people, but so what.

So, I decided to write this note to self, just so I don't forget: 

Remember bubble wrap. That's all there is to the meaning of life.

(Oh, and now that I have found mine, good luck finding yours! :) )

That surreal stroll

In the early hours before dawn,
When the world seems to be holding its breath and
waiting, waiting with pinkish grey skies
yet more beautiful than the miracle its waiting for...

I walk along this solitary lane,
the moon glowing away on one side
and the light breaking at the horizon,
listening silently to my heart's music..

I think of the beautiful moments in my life,
Catching the sunset on the silent shore
Chasing the moonlight till my eyes sore
People. Places. Words. And some more.

I think of you and the long conversations
The world that seems rosy in your presence
Flowers, spring, rainbows, sunshine.
And yet all we have are our thoughts
And that precious space where your mind meets mine.

I'm half asleep, the air's a tad cold.
But I walk on, with your ideas like a hand to hold.
Trying to preserve this moment in my head
To look back on a day when we shall be old;

I know on that day we shall not remember
We shall walk on- just another couple
vanishing in the anonymity of life-
dying but not dying, like a piece of ember.

The jarring noise of familiarity
Would choke that space we treasure now
And then we would wonder how
we ever thought we knew love.

Yes, some day we shall grow old
and the magic will be gone
The flowers would droop, the rainbows will vanish
And it would be dawn.

But maybe it doesn't matter
that this treasured moment doesn't last-
We may forget and we may breed contempt
We may move out of the past-

Just to know I had this minute
- this sacred moment before dawn
when I was waiting in excited pleasure
contentment. joy. desire.

That life had given me this one instant
that the ennui cannot snatch away
That I could feel the magic of love
the idealistic romance that poets say

Just to know I had this minute
it does not matter what price the future demands
Just to have known this surreal headiness
it does not matter that there will be dawns..

Raga

The bittersweet lingering of filter coffee in my tongue

and the incessant noises of a hot humid Indian city

are all I remember of our first meeting-

the other memories washed away

by the dirt and grime

of daily life.

For long I had not noticed you enough
to even take you for granted.
But unknowingly I searched
for you in song after
song, in vain.

And many years later, our love rediscovered

you stood before me like Lord Krishna*-

your innumerable faces glowing

with inexplicable grace.

I had thought you were a mere construct,

To force order in the random, to impose

the strict boredom of regularity.

But now I stand before your infinite greatness

unbounded by notes but binding.

Today, I discover you as the universe-enveloping

Consciousness.

--

Note:

1. This poem is about my discovery of the beauty of raga(m)s in Carnatic music. Of course, I am treating the concept of raga(m) as one entity here, which might be arguable. But in tribute to her beauty (or should I say their?), I have tried a new rhythm/meter :)
2. I dedicate this poem to the many many teachers who have tried to force some essence of music into my unrelenting head. Especially one of them who taught me enough to inspire this poem and who played a major part in my experience of the beauty I just mentioned. Thank you!
3. *The reference to Lord Krishna is the scene where he takes vishwaroopa(m) in front of Arjuna on the battlefield.

Infinity

"Oh, what does it matter? It is like infinity + 1" , I said involuntarily.
"What do you mean- infinity + 1?" 
"Well, infinity +1 would still be infinity. It's an incremental change. Doesn't change a thing in the world", I went on.
And then my friend stumped me by quoting one of my own favorite lines- "But it made a difference to that one!"
"Inspiration story wise, I love that line. But mathematically speaking infinity+1 cannot be bigger than infinity. It just doesn't work that way."

Sparing you the rest of the conversation, let me get to my point. Infinity is really a fascinating idea. When somebody tells you- we are in an infinite cycle of birth and death (theologically speaking, or speaking of physics), I immediately think "But when was the first time you were born?" It's a chicken and egg problem- if I want to tell myself the universe is infinite I wonder how it all started. But if I try to reconcile that it is in fact, finite- then my mind goes "But what was there before it all started?" Well, it looks like I'd never get it. Maybe it is not just unknown but unknowable (ya, now I am an infinity agnostic :P)

Anyway, when I spoke of infinity+1, I spoke like it's any other number. Which, of course it isn't. When someone says God has infinite powers, they don't mean he has 9^(9^9) powers or something. They usually mean endless. There is just one infinity. And it's endless. All-encompassing. At least that's what I thought of infinity until yesterday... Yesterday, I happened to read a little about Modern Set Theory and cardinal numbers, and then I realized, infinity is not just a concept of endlessness- there are infinite infinities in this world. 

Wait, whaaa? 
(Click on Read more for more)

Free will and all that

(This is the 9th post in the one-month challenge series)

Ya, I know I am back on the boring philosophy track. I don't know why I am a big fan of philosophical questions. Maybe because of this (-that comic was just awesome!)
But anyway. Getting to the topic.

Think about what makes you do what you do. If you never thought about it, it might be a hard question. For eg., I know I love coffee. But why do I love it? I might say it's because all the adults in my family drink start every single day of their life with coffee. So much that, in my mind, waking up is inextricably linked with smelling coffee and hearing the tap-tap on the filter. Followed by a family ritual of drinking coffee and discussing different things. If I think back, some of my earliest memories involve morning coffee. I remember it used to be quite a tantalizing thing in my childhood because my mom wouldn't let me have it and yet all grown-ups could. But I digress. My point is that I can trace my liking for coffee to something in my childhood- Positive reinforcement* from people I implicitly trust as a kid and a lot of Pavlovian conditioning.

Au contraire, I could ask my myself why I am an atheist. This might be the millionth time I am mentioning this but I grew up in an orthodox household. Religion is everywhere in our home. God is mentioned about a million times daily. And I was never sufficiently disappointed with my life to give up on God (like many atheists I know did.) Considering I think of life on very promising, cheerful terms, it is a wonder I ever changed my mind. In fact, I distinctly remember arguing with my atheist friend on why believing made sense. Also, almost all of my friends are theists. Not particularly religious. But theists. Almost all the people who have inspired me- my parents, teachers, relatives, famous people- are again theists.So, you see- almost nothing in my environment could have led me to stop believing. And yet, with some help from the 'God Delusion' (and myself) , I changed my mind at some point.
But if you look closely, you might say it's because I used to read a lot (not so much these days) and am influenced by good books. I am also quite interested in science and biology and debate. For each of these I could again go down a track of why I am interested in that particular thing, but you get the idea. You can pretty much nail down my supposedly contrary behavior to something in my environment.

"Wait", you tell me. "Not everything I like can be traced back to the past. It is too naive to do that. Taking your own example, there are many households with a morning coffee ritual but not all their kids become coffee addicts. Surely there is something innate in me that makes me like some things and be good at some things". Obviously. There is your genetic makeup which plays the other big role in making you who you are. Kids who grow up in the same family often turn out to be complete opposites. (Though there might be SOME influence on environment also there!)

Fine so far. Most people would agree until this point that most of their behavior comes from the genetic makeup or their environment. And as you might have guessed, the real question is- is there something beyond all that? (I am not even going into the argument of religion here- even when I was a theist, I never thought God would bother with the everyday minuscule details of trivial human lives.) If there were another individual who had the same genetic and environmental conditions as you, might he/she act differently? Or, as individuals, do we act completely based on these two factors, or is there something we can choose to do randomly beyond all of our past? In short, is our fate predetermined or do we have free will?

I hate to end abruptly, but because this is a long topic for discussion, I leave you today with just the question and a small note- I used to be a big fan of free will before. However, a course with one of my Top 5 teachers ever, a book by Baum and this amazing man made me change my opinion...

Hope to continue on that later..

*I use the term loosely here.

7 things to live for..

In the dead of Dead week,  7 things that make me believe I'm NOT better off dead.. (Why 7? Because 7 is a number magical enough to be the number of Horcruxes a dark wizard makes. Or maybe, as George Carlin might say, to prove that it was not made up!)

1. Tiramisu (And cheese cake) When people said chocolate was the food of Gods, I guess they hadn't known this recipe yet. 
2. Nagumomu
3. Sunrise. Anywhere in the world.
4. Elliots beach at 5 in the morning. Goes with the last one, but the air of Elliots, the sound of the morning walkers and the Laughter club, the waves crashing on the shore and knowing I can walk back home to some hot coffee with The Hindu is a special piece of heaven.
5. Calvin and Hobbes
6. Filter coffee (in davara tumbler)
7. Air conditioning. No, Seriously.

Things that almost made the list but didn't quite:

1. Abstruse Goose (and Dilbert and PHD comics) 
2. Kathrikai podi karamedhu (Brinjal fry made with dal) and Thengai thogaiyal. Not together, though.
3. Gobhi manchurian (Or the Gobhi masala + Veechu at 3rd dhaba <the Raju Anna one>, NIT trichy :D)
4. Nachos and cheese dip (At PVR, Bangalore). Preferably while watching a good movie with Smrithi and co. Potato Chips. Chocolate. Gulab Jamun.
5. Butter. In any form.
6. Ayn Rand
7. Science (non linear dynamics, evolution, neuroscience, comp arch)

 I am making this list because Dead week is inherently depressing, and I hope these shall help me see the silver lining. Also, maybe because Gargi Nanjanath's recent fb post reminded me to be thankful for some things (in case I end up not doing so). 

And I guess, anytime in the future when I get very depressed, I will look back at this list.

By the way, it might look like some of these things can be grouped up. But I think that each item on the list is special enough to have a place on its own.

What can an atheist look forward to?

I must admit that sometimes being an atheist is hard. (The only thing harder than being an atheist is being an agnostic- and I hope I will write about why that is so sometime.... ). Especially when things go wrong. You cannot believe that ultimately good will triumph- even if you have put in all your efforts into something, nothing really stops anything from going wrong. No, I am not trying to be defeatist here, but the truth is that believing something good will happen out of the blue, or that there is something that rewards hard work is still belief in the supernatural- just without the baggage that God is forced to carry around most of the time. Anyway, when things are going bad for you, you cannot simply pray to some supernatural power and hope that he will set things right. You cannot believe in any sort of essential fairness in the world. If there is any law that governs life for you- it is survival of the fittest (which is a different form of fairness, in my opinion.. But anyway..) and then maybe the laws of physics. But these laws cannot provide solace- you simply cannot hope that Newton's third law will slap that guy who was mean to you at the store this morning. 

The other problem is- what ultimate goal do you have? Most religions advocate some kind of heaven or salvation- something to look forward to. To work towards. There is no such goal in atheism. We are simply insignificant chemical specks in a vast universe that may or may not have its own agenda. We are products of our genes which are simply fighting for their own "selfish" reasons. (Yes, I am oversimplifying things here- but the details aren't particularly comforting either..) We do have some role in modifying nature- we can and have affected it in many ways, but that is not something you can work towards. Nor is it something you can look forward to, because many of these changes will have a sizeable impact only long after you are gone. Yes, many atheists find joy in serving the poor and improving life conditions of the underprivileged- so much as to say that service is their God. Unfortunately, not everyone can feel that. Some atheists can work for improving life conditions of others, but cannot see it as their goal (Objectivists, for example). It is like saying- "I like making people happy, but I cannot live for it". So then, what CAN an atheist (like me) look forward to? Is there anything at all that can be labeled the "joy of being an atheist"? (Click on "Read more" to continue..)

Stop and Stare

I miss reading. I miss the feeling of being caught in the magic of a different world created by a writer. I miss the wait for the plot to unravel. To me every book is like a beautifully wrapped gift, and I love the process of cutting open the ribbons, tearing the paper and discovering the beauty of the present inside. More than the present, the element of surprise.. And then the reverse engineering process of "I should have seen this coming". But more than any of that, just the idea of the different world and the ability of someone to keep u there.

And I miss falling in love with the characters. I cannot love any real person as much as I love John Galt. Or the little prince. (Look, he has gone to sleep!) Somewhat lesser, Sydney Carton. Maybe, one can only conceive of a perfect person. But that's beside the point. From Tariq to Bartimaeus, from Severus Snape to Rahel and Estha and Velutha, from Dorothy to Elizabeth Bennet, why, even Uriah Heep to Madame Defarge- each character has almost been alive in some way in my life- how could I forget any of them?
For someone like me, who can almost get high on reading and whose dream paradise is just a huge library (like the one the Beast gifts Beauty in "The Beauty and the Beast!), this is bad. I do watch a few TV series and movies here and there, but really, they are a little superficial to me. They can never captivate me like the feel of paper. And the image of the different world playing in my head. (Maybe because I get to pick the faces! :P)

So why am I writing about this now? Two reasons. One, Georgia Tech has robbed me of my novel reading time. I was definitely reading more in Bangalore, even if not enough. And here it is not just that time is limited, but that I know reading any novel is going to make me feel guilty tomorrow. And then I think if all of it was worth it. If you think about it, giving up Khaled Hosseini to read HLA papers sounds like a bad deal. The bad part is I do enjoy reading tech books (Quantitative Neurophysiology was simply fascinating!). But somewhere deep down not reading much fiction kills something in u that is lively and creative and optimistic. Grad school makes u analyze and over analyze and draw graphs for everything. And make a Zipf's law out of an otherwise enjoyable reading of Moby Dick! (One of my recent examples include thinking of drawing a graph out of heating times and pause times while making gobhi 65!). While the thinking is all good and everything, it makes you too prone to making mathematical models of everything. Over-sensible. And less open to the miraculous possibilities of the world. It makes you forget that statistical probability is still a probability- that something might be 99% improbable and might still happen. That probability vanishes at the moment of the occurrence of the event. Or maybe it is not grad school! Maybe they are signs of growing old! :( Anyway, I miss the slow pleasure of novel reading on lazy afternoons (and early mornings! ;) )

The second thing is I somehow miss the good books. I know I am talking like an old woman here, but for some reason, lately, I have found too many books not worth being called that and becoming so over-popular that it has become too tedious to find a good book. Of course I haven't read all the good ones. And of course, there are many good ones. But for some reason, the quality of general reviewing has somehow gone down, especially for Indian writing. Anybody who has seen a Bollywood movie seems to think he can write and that is such a disaster. And I am not even going to start on the Chetan Bhagat syndrome here. Maybe it is because Sujatha died! Point being, I need to find some reviewer who reviews books sensibly or find a good author whose books I haven't finished.

But the second point is kinda minor. The first is the one I am more concerned about. What I really wanted to do with this post was to remind myself (and others like me) to stop rationalizing too much. To read good fiction once in a while. Classics. Novels. Stories woven by master narrators. Watch plays (I missed watching "Rent" :( :( :( ). Listen to symphonies. Listen to Ganesh-Kumaresh. Watch some Bharatanatyam performance. Walk in the mornings watching the sky turn red.  

Stop. And stare. 

P.S: Thanks Srinath for pointing out the typo on Bharatanatyam. Though if you ask me, considering that it is a Tamil word, maybe we should spell it as Baradanattiyam :P

The tinge of hatred

There are times when I don't love you.
There are times when my feeling is almost close to hatred.
No, not anger. Hatred.
But only close, and I hope never there.
And yet how could life ever be complete in your absence
how would my existence make any sense?

I sometimes wonder what I would do after you are gone,
Instinct says I should go along,
but the rational me would say just go on.
But again, how could I go on in a world without you,
who would I rejoice my little victories with, who would I cry about my failures to?
No. I am not dependent, I am not tied,
And yet I am all that and more.

The surge of affection I feel this minute-

A blind urge to protect you from the world's cruelties,
and make sure you would never be gone..
Yet, who am I but a mere spectator, a tool in the hands of an unending cycle
An evanescent dot in the vast universe- bright one fleeting moment, gone the next?

and how could two mere dots feel such an unencompassable emotion?

Yet, if you were to go, there would be a gaping hole
Not a mere dot that vanished, but something in me gone forever.
Maybe because, for all my rationality, it is this that makes me complete-
the love, the reason for the love and

the tinge of hatred.

P.S: 1. I haven't posted for long and there are quite a few posts in my Drafts- hope they see light of day sometime. Sorry, readers! Sorry, myself, too because I had almost forgotten the joy of writing..

2. This poem is dedicated to the many people I have loved, respected, been inspired by and who have made my life complete (even, if I hated them for some moments!). There was a time in my life when I used to think it didn't matter, but with time I have realized I was naive then, and that, like Dumbledore so often says, love is the most powerful magic in the world. I know that sounds like a Bollywood dialogue, but really, that's what I felt the moment I started reading this article- The value of the people I have got, and how my world would crash if they were gone...

The right answer....

A few days back, I was in a situation where there was a problem in my project team, and I had a choice to make- which would affect whether we would remain a team or not. It was the kind of complex situation anyone would hate getting into, because all the alternatives in front of you are equally good and bad. And I was thinking this through so much, with the desire to make the "right" choice. The choice that I wouldn't be guilty about later on. The choice where I would be fair to everyone concerned. And so on...

I was just wishing there would be someone in this world who would resolve that issue for me. Who would give me an answer- the "right" answer and with the reasons it was right.

It reminded me of the school days when- whenever you had a question, you could just  ask your mom/dad. And they would always have the right answer.. From why do aeroplanes fly to what should I do if my best friend stole my pencil. ("Tujh ko sab pata hai na ma"). And then the stage when I had an implicit blind belief in my teacher. If the teacher wrote a 'z' with a line across it, that was the only right way to do it. I remember having argued with my mother over such things (though I don't remember exactly what). But the idea was that the teacher ALWAYS had the right answer. And it was unthinkable that she could be wrong.

Of course, by the time I was in secondary, I realized that a lot of primary teachers had had no clue what they had been talking about (Especially with respect to some serious questions in science). But I thought that maybe "they" did not know, but somebody else did. Somebody else "should" know the right answer.