Day 3- On Enid Blyton, the extended transferred epithet and religion

If I had to name just one person I spent most of my childhood with, that would be Enid Blyton. I remember spending whole summer months letting myself get sucked into her world- with flying cars and pixies and adventure lurking at every turn. In the early years I even wondered how it would be if all my toys came out at night and had little fights or skated on soap.

Anyway, there was one story (one of my favorites) about a boy who sees an enchanted book at a store. The book opens from both ends- each tells a different story. Both stories are about the boy's own life and what his future would be like. On one story, he makes his choices based on ambition- spends more time at his business, is often cruel etc. On the other- his choices are based on family and love, and though he doesn't make too much money, he is content.

As a kid reading the story, it was obvious which side to pick- the kind side. But you see, that's the problem with the stories kids are told. They have not one inch of the gray that fills real life, or to use the cliched phrase, they are too black and white. Anyway, that's not the point for today.

The thing I really want to highlight is how authors tend to bunch qualities together. In this story, for instance, the boy (when he grew up, that is) would not only spend too much time at business, but would also be mean to his customers and get angry all the time. Then the reader's mind would almost automatically associate the making money with the other "bad" qualities of being cruel, when in fact it is possible for a man to make money and still be a good person.
In contrast, if you pick a story like "Atlas Shrugged", there are the people who make money and sound cruel but are actually kinder through their actions. But there, Ayn Rand also has some fictional associations- like the fact that the smart people are all blunt, arrogant AND successful, while the villains are all not just evil and people-pandering but quite stupid; or the fact that all the "good" people speak the same kind of language and anyone who uses any amount of subtlety in their speech is some sort of conniving villain.

I see this as a very interesting literary device. It is very close to the transferred epithet in the sense that the effect (or our judgement) of one quality is actually transferred on to others. Which is why I want to call it the extended transferred epithet. But the reason it is interesting is because it is also very very powerful.

Take these verses, for instance..

"But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death."

"Know that a king who heeds not the rules (of the law), who is an atheist, who is rapacious, who does not protect his subjects (but) devours (i.e. mistreats) them, will sink low (after death)"

The first is from the Bible (Revelation 21:8) and the second is from a translation of the Manusmrithi (Ch8, Topic17, Verse309).

In both cases, a set of negative characteristics are combined with the "faithless" and the "atheists". Of course, with most religions "faithless" is bad enough to warrant prosecution- it is often considered evil by definition. But the subtle propaganda that lets religions persist, especially in the age of technology and information, exists in these places- in stories where the villains are evil AND non-believers, where the books proclaim that the faithless are also always immoral (conveniently skipping over the faithless moral human being). Religions are not only full of these; they are so prevalent that most people tend to actually believe them (like believing all faithless people are also immoral). Which is why I said it is a very powerful device.

Anyway, let me finish off today by saying that I think the extended transferred epithet is a beautiful literary device. It is convenient and powerful. But that's precisely why one should be wary of it.

P.S: There may be a real name for this literary device. I tried looking for it but couldn't find it. So I came up with my own name for it instead! :P

Day 2- The flaw

You might wonder why I skipped the last five days. Well, that's what today's post is going to be about.
--

In Shakespearean tragedies, the main character often has one major flaw. In some ways the entire plot is about how that flaw affects the character at different points in his life, ultimately leading to his death (thus leading to the term 'fatal flaw'). When I used to read Shakespeare in school, I often wondered why the character was never able to overcome his fatal flaw- it was so obvious to me that all his problems were a result of this flaw, that I thought it should have been obvious to him (aka the character) too.*

As I grew up, I realized that flaws do not work that way. The flaw is a flaw often because it is so much part of the person's personality that he does not even notice it or because he is not able to overcome it even if he wants to. I do not want to get into the discussion of whether this means the flaws are innate or not; just that often they are close to insurmountable. Then, as an intelligent (or reasoning) individual, it becomes our duty to look for such flaws within ourselves. Of course, this is easier said than done. The true flaws are the ones that are bound to hide beneath layers of purported reason, and usually ones we would hate to admit.

So the reason I am writing all this today is because I realized that my fundamental flaw is "losing interest after starting". 

Let me explain. I am usually passionate about new ideas, new activities, and definitely new challenges. However, at a point where the challenge seems workable, or I can see a "path to success", it ceases to become interesting to me. That does not mean that I never finish anything I start, just that often it is out of necessity or a sense of habit or commitment than out of an interest equal in magnitude to what I had when I started. Now this stuff has been obvious to me for a while now, but somehow I did not see it as my "one big flaw". However, once I started thinking about the number of things I have started but lost interest in, it became pretty obvious to me that if I were in a Shakespearean tragedy, lit students would be discussing how "losing interest quickly" led to my demise, and then would silently wonder why I did not see it myself :D

Anyhow, now that I have realized it, I have decided to basically "eat the frog" for every thing I take up. This one month challenge included. And that means, I will try to actually finish this challenge successfully :)


--
*Reminds me of a recent "Flash boys" quote- "When something becomes obvious to you, you begin to think that somebody else must have already thought of this."

Day 1- Confessions of a born grammar snob

I am an almost-a-grammar-snob. I'm not half as annoyed by bad pronunciation or poor vocabulary as by bad grammar.  You see, I am in love with grammar (mostly English, but where my knowledge is sufficient, Tamil/Hindi as well). I love the fact that sentences should be written in a particular way to make sense and writing them differently would change the meaning. I love all the rules that go into that process and can spend hours (in reality just minutes, but that doesn't quite have the same effect as saying 'hours'!) debating a minor grammar point.  
However, I do not usually try to correct people's grammar unless I know them really well. Not to say that bad grammar doesn't irk me (it drives me up the wall really), but I don't want to come across as picky or rude. And sometimes, I think it is just pointless. It is part of my general "let them be" philosophy.

Anyway, one of these days when I was talking to someone, I ended up making this statement- "The most beautiful thing about language is how it evolves. We look at 'Sense and sensibility' and think one thing, when in fact Austen meant to say 'Sense and sensitivity', which sounds completely different to us." (Reminds me of my watching the old Fountainhead). 
Notice I said 'evolves'. That is one beautiful word. It is like a river that takes things in as it flows- forever accepting and rejecting, and yet growing with time. It is not just 'grows' or 'changes', but 'evolves'. Slowly. Beautifully. Almost imperceptibly. 

And then I caught myself. Am I not contradicting myself here? How could language evolve if everybody followed the existing rules? Where would the change come from?
For sometime, I thought I had just been a prude (or an elitist) with double standards. You know, the kind that thinks- "When Shakespeare does it, it's the language 'evolving', but when some regular Indian IT support guy does it, it's murdering the language and hacking its limbs." But then again, that's not true either. I often try to draw a line between colloquial language usage and grammatical errors. To me, "prepone" is ok. "Can able to" is not. "Lol" is ok, but the infamous "entry from backside only" is not. I justify it to myself as- 'as long as the meaning is retained, it's ok'. So maybe I am not that bad a snob after all. 

But wait, maybe I am. After all, this line I draw, like most lines people draw, is arbitrary. And subjective. Why should "lol" be ok when "can able to" is not? "Can able to" may be ungrammatical but most people can understand it if used in a sentence. So why should I frown? And what people in one region or country might understand is completely different from what the rest of the world would.  I am definitely being a bad snob there.
Maybe it is just one of those instinctive things. Something I am conditioned to for too long to give up even if I think I should.

Anyway, in sum, that discussion made me realize I should be less reproachful of people with  bad grammar. And the funny thing is that, apparently, I summed the sentiment up pretty well in a poem I wrote when I was in high school- "Is not every 'wrong' note the beginning of a new song?"  


--
P.S: I have been avoiding writing for a while- mostly because I was busy and writing seemed to be a luxury that I could not afford. (Aside, I did in fact waste a lot of time watching meaningless TV, but maybe writing takes more effort than that.) Anyway, now that I have some time upon my hands again, I am thinking of going back to the one post a day routine. It takes a lot of time, but maybe it's worth it.

Whew!

And today is the 31st post of the one-month challenge.

Whew! On one side, I can't believe I actually reached this point- I often thought I was definitely going to give up. On the other side, I can't believe I wasn't writing everyday a month ago and I'm almost sorry it's over (I don't have an excuse to force myself to write everyday anymore)! Talk about habit formation! 

I won't say I enjoyed every minute of the journey. I didn't. But it was like a good workout. You hate it because it kills you while you are doing it. And yet, you feel very good afterward because you survived it. There were definitely days when I'd rather have slept than written. And yet, once I finished the post, I felt very good. And there were times when I didn't know what to write: when I would just keep thinking, 'What next?' At other times I could think of lots of topics but none I wanted to write about then. (That's when I realized why I shouldn't blame newspaper reporters for writing poorly once in a while).

The good thing is this exercise got me back to writing regularly, and has made me write more concisely. It has also made me read a lot more, and more importantly, made me realize yet again that I can find time for something if I want to.

I also got some good feedback both on the blog and on fb (and also on chat)- thank you for that! It really encourages me to go on.

One small technicality. Some of you might have noticed I actually started the challenge on June 5th. How is it a "one-month" challenge if I took till July 18th? Well, by the end of the first week itself I realized it's impossible for me to write weekends, mostly because I am outside then. So, I skipped all the weekends and tried to make it just weekdays, thus changing the 1 month-challenge to a 31-weekday challenge. Ya, it's not optimal, but I really needed the weekends.
For that matter, I tried to think up topics one day before and give teasers, but that didn't work either (partly because I ran out of topics and partly because I know how much time I'd have the next day.)

For those of you who are reading this the first time (or) are not sure which posts to read in this one month, I have some I'd like to recommend in decreasing order (because they are the ones that I convey what the blog's about, and also because I enjoyed writing them the most I guess)- What's with all the marrying, Chennai express and stereotyping, Rajinikanth, Colors- A terribly tiny tale and Laura- a short story. If you want the ones that were popular by pageviews or by comments (other than the ones above)- you might check I shouldn't be here, The Unspoken and The Roman Catholic Hindu actress...

Well, thank you and keep reading and commenting.. And let's hope that my writing spree lasts...

Laura- Part 3 of 3

(Continued from Part 1 and Part 2. And part of the one-month challenge.)

Maybe it had been too good to be true and that's why Laura stopped turning up for tennis. The first few times, I waited for an hour. Then I stopped waiting. I tried to reach her, but she wouldn't respond on phone/email/nothing. I asked someone I knew in architecture and he said she was attending classes though she did miss one or two. “She does look a little pale”, he added.

I was very angry with her. What did she mean by not responding? Maybe she got tired of me. Maybe she got busy with Mike. Did he say pale? Maybe, maybe… I didn't let myself think about that.  Maybe it was just a game she was playing- to see if I would talk to her on my own. Sometimes she did crazy cute things like that. Well, if it was a game, I wasn't giving in. I wasn't going to ask her.

But maybe I should have gone then. 

******************
I stood there, shell-shocked.

“How did it happen?”

“It looks like she slashed her wrists”

“Do they know why she did that?”

“Nobody knows. Some say it’s because the guy she loved rejected her. Some say she had been looking dull for a few weeks now. Sad and lonely. Seems she spoke to many people but wasn't close to anyone. Except one guy. Maybe he’d know.”

I could feel something tugging at my heart, Something knotting in my stomach.

“Didn't she leave a note or anything?”

“Most kids who commit suicide do, but she didn't. No message to the world. Not a single word.”

“So it could have been…” I didn't finish my question.

“No the evidence is quite clear. She slashed her own wrists. Period. It’s sad. Such a beautiful girl. And so young too.”

That day, I didn't think whether I could have done something to prevent it. I didn't wonder whether I had guessed wrongly about Mike- maybe it was me. Or whether her decision was even prompted by love.* I wasn't filled with regret about not having seen her in the last few days, nor any burden that I let someone’s life slip through my fingers. I didn't think that God was punishing me by taking her away. 
I thought these things a million times many days later. Over and over again, my mind going through every possibility, with no trace, no hope of an answer. 

But that day, I didn't think anything- my mind was numb and frozen. I couldn't stand there any longer. 

I just walked away.

__END__

*Edit 1: Added this line because it was part of what I had thought from the protagonist's perspective, but somehow missed conveying. Thanks to my friend whose question indirectly prompted it... 

Laura - Part 2 of 3

(Continued from Part 1. Part of the one-month challenge.)

Just when my mind began to build villas in the air (I never liked castles), I realized Mike was sitting right behind me. Mike is a very cool chap from the physics department- very smart, tall, wears glasses and still manages to look cool, not nerdy! He plays for the best rock band on campus, is considered to be the most popular man on campus, and though no one would say no to him, he is single. Some say it’s because he doesn't find anyone to be good enough for him. Anyway, I saw her and then him again. And that was when the whole point of sitting opposite me struck my slow, stupid head! I just turned to see Mike. He was buried in his book. Well, suffice it to say that her sitting there like a dumb doll without batting an eyelid really got on my nerves and I decided to leave.

***********
I was walking with her to the tennis court. A few days after the library incident, I had run into her again while playing tennis. She had been watching the game (and Mike wasn't around) and it looked like she was waiting for her game partner who hadn't turned up. So, when my partner decided to leave, she asked if she could play with me instead of him. No, I  don’t think she liked me or anything. She just badly wanted to play. And by god, she played well! It was an awesome game. At the end of it, we decided to play more often. Now we play 2 or 3 times a week, and even if she weren't the drop dead beauty that she is in tennis clothes, I’d love playing with her- she’s darn good!

After the game, we have coffee together. And she talks. When Seo-yun talks, I get bored and my mind drifts away. Or I end up watching her more than listening. It is tiresome to hear girls talk. And they talk endlessly. But somehow, when she talks I am all ears. (Oh, I forgot to mention- I asked her name the first time we played tennis. Laura.) I also observe her a lot more than I do Seo-yun. I notice every tiny movement of her fingertip, every little shadow that falls on her, and drink in every inch of her beautiful face. Yet, I also listen to every word she says and it’s as if my mind’s capacities have doubled.

But even after all the listening and observing, I can't figure her out. Sometimes, she is like a tomboy- waiting for adventure, jumping over fences, thinking up pranks. And sometimes, she is just a girl who is animatedly talking but is prettier than any painting. Sometimes, she is the demure shy woman, and sometimes she is a small child who I must protect from the big bad world. Sometimes she is a nerd who knows too much and is too good at her work. But sometimes she is just a good friend who will stand by me, come what may. She is like a mystery that changes every minute- a book whose pages I can keep turning for eternity.

Does she love me? I don’t think so. I think she is still in love with Mike. But I don’t know for sure. She talks a lot but never once lets me ask her very personal questions. She doesn't avoid them- she just makes me forget that any question ever existed. It is as if there is a line around her that you don’t cross, and yet it isn't she who drew the line. But I can’t say that there isn't a tinge of hope in the corner of my heart.

Do I love her? I have no idea. There are times when I feel I am head over heels in love with her. And there are times when I think that I am just overcome by attraction. At other times, I feel an overwhelming affection - if it were the end of the world, I'd still want to spend the last minute with her and protect her from the coming end.

Wasn't I dating Seo-yun, you might ask. Seo-yun is my real life love. She is a reflection of me. She looks pretty, but is not particularly ethereal. Laura is a dream- her reality is too magical for me. If you dream of a perfect woman for years and then you see her, you badly want to live with her but you can't. Laura is that kind of a dream. Too real and too pretty to be mine. She can be wanted, but not had.

Anyway, I was happy with the way things were. Of all the guys who would love to talk to her, I was the one who did. In fact, I am sure she has a long list of friends, and it's good enough that I even get the amount of time that I do. This was probably the best it could have been. In fact, it was almost too good to be true...*

(To be completed...)

*Edit 2: Again, something I thought I had conveyed, but looks like I didn't. Edit 1 is in Part 3 by the way!

Laura (Part 1 of 3)

Today's is the 27th post of the one-month challenge. As the finale, I thought I will write a short story in 3 parts. This is based on a real-life story I heard from one of my former colleagues. The characters and incidents are partly fictitious, but the main incident is real. I had started this very long ago, but as I wrote the last few parts yesterday, I was also inspired by this video for some of the description.
***************

I don’t really have a very clear memory of the first time I saw her. Not a photographic memory, at least. But I can still remember her aura (or whatever you call it) and the general feeling she evoked in me. She was jumping over a fence actually, and it was a little too high even for her long legs. That was Prof. Sharma’s’ garden, a shortcut from the cafeteria to our classes, which we didn't use because, as I said, it was Sharma’s garden, and you don’t meddle around with Sharma! She was wearing some kind of denim shorts, and a pale green T-shirt I think. Pale green or pale blue? Or was it light chocolate? I don’t remember that very well- I told you I only have a vague memory. But I remember I could smell a faint whiff of perfume from where I stood. And that I was standing across the street wearing my jacket over some blackish shirt, and dark grey jeans and sneakers, holding a few books. Not a great chap to look at. But passable, I hoped.

I didn't have so much of a crush on her, or anything like that, but I just... well, I wouldn't mind it at all if she would notice me. Also, I kind of liked her energy. You just had to glance at her, and you would feel a lot better. You know... cheerful, bubbly and all that. She wasn't smiling really, but it was as if the whole air around her was singing with joy. She looked like she was waiting to discover some new adventure lurking around the corner; like she thought reality had no room for sorrow! Well, while I was thinking thus, she had jumped and walked across and vanished in no time, (not remained frozen in the air like in the movies) and I was still standing there, a little awestruck. Or bowled over. And my mind full of the memory of the perfume, I walked away.

It was just that day. After a few days, she was out of my mind, and I was dating Seo-yun anyway. I think someone mentioned her name as something or the other, but I always remembered her only by her perfume. And that feeling she evoked. In any case, I heard she was doing architecture and that she was very good at it. If only she weren't that bubbly, she would have been a nerd. In any case, that’s all I found about her, my circles being vastly different from hers (I was always with the electrical engineering guys, and literature girls- because Seo-yun was doing French literature). Besides, we had tests, exams, Seo-yun’s PMS and ensuing fights, Saturday nights, alcohol, movies, and soccer-- enough to keep a man’s mind busy.
***************

I was supposed to be deciding my research area, and was trying to decide between cognitive radios and transistor-lasers. Both were pet topics of mine, but in quite different domains, and I didn't know which to pursue. So I was spending a lot of time in the library reading, in the hope that somehow the odds would suddenly tip in favor of one of the topics.

On one such day, while I was reading some radio routing book, I noticed a sudden vibration in the atmosphere. (OK. I admit that’s an exaggeration!) No points for guessing who had just moved to the chair right opposite me! I continued to look into my book as if nothing had happened. Though I did steal a few quick glances. Nice pink T shirt, denim shorts again- those cute, really short ones. And awesome skin, a touch of pale pinkish lipstick, and... well, let’s just say she was stunning. It was hard for me to turn to page 453.

It was an hour maybe, and after a lot more glances and nsfw observations. I was trying to solve some equation of sorts, and of course, that was difficult with her around. I just wanted to talk to her. Nothing else, mind you. Anyway, I looked up to catch her staring at me. I was a little embarrassed. Or maybe, a little surprised. Her cheeks were just a shade too pink. The bubbly aura was gone and replaced by a demureness, almost an innocence, which strangely gave her an angelic beauty. And she was looking at ME!

(To be continued...)

The Roman Catholic Hindu actress

I actually started a post about NRIs and India-ranting. But midway I read an interview excerpt and decided this was more important to write about. But before I get to that, answer this question:

Which religion do the following celebrities belong to: 
a) Javed Akhtar 
b) Daniel Radcliffe 
c) Kamal Hassan 
d) Stephen Hawkings 
e) Angelina Jolie?

(We will come back to this in a while)

******
The footnote I read was an excerpt from an interview of Milkha Singh about 'Bhaag Milkha Bhaag' and the question was "How do you feel about a Muslim actor playing the role of a Sikh?"
This question was wrong at so many levels- why should a Muslim actor not play a Sikh? Wasn't he "acting" by definition? How did this question even have any significance?

But what really bugged me was the fact that they called Farhan Akhtar a Muslim. For anyone who doesn't know- he is an atheist. He was also brought up an atheist. Javed Akhtar was born into a Muslim family but declared himself an atheist. (Some sites say Farhan's agnostic, but he is definitely not 'Muslim'!)
And no, he is NOT a Muslim atheist. Nor is Kamal Hassan an Iyengar atheist. Or George Carlin a Roman Catholic atheist. In fact, they are all just plain atheists. One might argue that they all belong to the same religion (I am defining religion VERY loosely here). So going back to the question I asked at the beginning- Javed Akhtar, Kamal Hassan, Hawkings, and Radcliffe are in fact united by their religious beliefs or the lack thereof. (Angelina does not subscribe to any religion.)

Now I can hear someone think- "How does it matter? It's a minor mistake. If he were not an atheist, he would be a Muslim!". It matters because this statement is equivalent to saying- "If I were not born Hindu, I would be a Christian". or "If I were not born an Indian, I would be Chinese". That's a ridiculous argument because if you were not an Indian you might have been an African or American or Eskimo or a hundred other things. Just because Farhan Akhtar's grandfather was a Muslim, it does not mean he is one. Also, saying he is an atheist Muslim is a contradiction in terms.

Which brings me to the real issue- why should people be identified based on their religion? Do you identify people based on their favorite beverage or favorite color? Religion is a far more personal choice than that. If you judge a person based on his religion, you might as well say "All people who like the color purple are violent maniacs who mistreat their women." or identify people as- "He is a Diet-Coke drinker.","She is a strong believer of green tea." , etc. Religion is a more important choice, but it is still a personal one.

Ok. If you really want to judge people on their religion, so be it. But why judge them on their ancestors' religions, when they have expressly said they don't follow it? Calling someone a Muslim because his grandfather was one is like saying "Your grandfather hated pani puris. So you must hate pani puri too".  It reminds me of Dawkins writing- 'That's all fine. But are you a Catholic atheist or a Protestant atheist?' Well, I hope you can at least see how ridiculous this sounds. It is hard for most people to look at atheists as non-religious people. I know I also used to identify some popular atheists by their former religion. It is too easy a trap to fall into. Religion is an easy way to categorize people- have them in neat slots that you can generalize about. But most often, we tend to get carried away by the slots and forget what it really means.

So, let me state it here. RELIGION IS NOT SOMETHING YOU BELONG TO AUTOMATICALLY because your parents do. RELIGION IS SOMETHING YOU DECIDE TO FOLLOW (or not) based on what you want to believe about certain questions. And the next time you see an atheist, don't classify him/her into a religion based on his/her name, family, or place of origin. 

Preferably, try not to poke into their religion at all.

P.S: I forgot to mention- the Roman catholic Hindu actress is Julia Roberts. Born a Roman Catholic and currently practicing Hinduism. 

The Unspoken

I have wrote of sorrow, of joy and nature, 
Of the little girl that smelt beauty in soap cartons,
Of sunsets and valleys filled with roses,
But never did a tide befall my heart, as today-
A tide of words, of you and of love,
Of an emptiness that bade me to speak yet sealed my lips
Of the debris of castles I had once built;
Of a dream once dreamt that would never come true
But still dreamt and re-dreamt-
Alas, if only we could live in our dreams!
I wish to write till the words form a passage to enter your heart,
And yet the word-souls refuse to take lives;
Maybe our love was destined to be,
Not just unsuccessful, but also to remain unsaid!!

(I wrote this poem very long ago- I don't know why I never put it up!
And this is the 25th post of the one-month challenge I gave myself!)

Why time doesn't move while reading textbooks

You know how time flies when you are simply lazing around or watching a movie? But when you take an advanced physics book and read, it feels like hours even though your watch shows only minutes since you started reading? Or you might remember the meme which says- Sleeping in the morning: 7 am->sleep for 5 mins->8am; Sleeping in class: 1pm->sleep for an hour->1.05pm. (Couldn't find the image. if someone finds it, let me know).

I always thought this is something you think but not really a biological phenomenon. Though, now that I think of it, how can there be a phenomenon not based on natural science? Anyway, I never thought someone would study and try to explain this. But I read this post today and it looks like we might be getting close to understanding why this happens.

The basic premise of the post is that our perception of time is based on what the brain tells us i.e. there is no special faculty or organ by which the body measures time. So, the brain infers the passage of time based on information from the other senses. Now, when we are doing something new or complex, say solving a system of DE, the brain has a lot more work to do and infers that a lot of time has passed.  This is also why time slows down at important crucial moments- when your brain is trying to process as much sensory information as possible. Whereas, when you are doing a familiar task, the brain has much lesser work so time seems to fly.

Great explanation, huh?

But wait.. it still doesn't explain some things. When you are not doing anything and are bored, you usually feel that time is moving slowly. Your brain can't be working too much at that point- in fact, it is not doing much work at all. Similarly, when you are very busy or racing against a deadline, time flies past without you realizing it. Don't these seem to contradict the article's premise? 

The only way (that I see) to resolve this contradiction is to negate or extend their premise. I'd guess that time perception in the brain also depends on attention i.e. how involved you are. The more focused you are on something, the faster time seems to get. And when you have nothing much to focus on- it seems slower. Maybe the attention part is also a lot of work for the brain.. Anyway some time perception neuroscientist has to validate my theory and unify these. Right now, it's just something I leave you to think about...

In any case, the idea about time perception was cool, right?

I shouldn't be here

(This is the 23rd post of the one-month challenge I gave myself!)

While I was at Georgia Tech, I participated in a survey for female students, intended for high-performing women who were not completely satisfied with their achievements. (Turns out that was in September! How time flies!)

Think of yourself (or if you are a guy, get into the shoes of a woman you know very well.) You are a high achieving woman- you went to a good college/grad school and performed excellently. Or work for a reputed organization and are regularly lauded for your work. And yet you feel that you don't deserve it. "I'm not smart enough for all that, I don't know why everyone says I'm good- I am doing well purely by chance". 
When someone praises you for a good job done- you think "I have done nothing at all. I just got lucky that whatever I tried worked". And when you get a salary hike or a promotion or a new offer, you are scared to tell people- you know it's superstitious, but you feel that telling people is going to screw it up. In fact, you feel that you have just been lucky so far and are going to fail tomorrow. Sometimes, when you are overwhelmed by a task, you imagine you are going to fail and be the laughing stock of the office. When you see a  small problem you can't fix, you think "I can't do this. I'm such a fake."

'I shouldn't be here.'

Well, THIS feeling is called the impostor syndrome. (No, I am not starting a series on different syndromes. I promise.) I was surprised they have a name for it, because some of these feelings are pretty common.

At first, I thought many of this is simply perfectionist behavior. But then I asked one of my friends (a guy) with about the same qualifications as me to fill the survey. And guess what- he did not feel any of the things I mentioned in the last paragraph. He was worried about details, didn't think he had done anything great with his life (common for any ambitious person), but he didn't think that the praise he got was undeserved. He had never once felt he had got anywhere by chance! Contrary to that, most of the women I know admit to having felt one or more of these things at different points in their lives.

Anyway, like a true grad student I read a paper which tries to explain why this syndrome is more common among women. The short explanation is that many women achieve a lot but grow up hearing that they are not good enough (or not hearing that they are good enough) compared to the men around them. This creates a subconscious low self-evaluation that keeps nagging them even when all the evidence points otherwise. The explanation sounded a little roundabout and sort of Freudian to me. But then, with no other explanation available, I will have to accept this I guess.

In any case, after all that reading, I began to consciously notice whenever I felt any of these things and try to push out such thoughts from my head. Which is why I decided to write about this for all the women out there. It is easy to think you are going to screw up and everyone's going to think you are an idiot. But the more you pump in confidence into yourself, the more you will appreciate yourself AND have the world appreciate you! 

If ever you think 'I shouldn't be here', just remember- you wouldn't be wherever you are if you didn't deserve it! In fact, the 'I shouldn't be here' is true in a different sense- you shouldn't be here because you are better than this. You can get ahead of 'here'. And you very much deserve to!

The Ayn Rand movies

As promised yesterday, I'm here writing about the movies I was watching. Since both are movies based on Ayn Rand books, most of the post may not make sense unless you have read the books.

The first one: Atlas Shrugged- Part 2. It has a pathetic rating on IMDB and is said to be worse than Part 1, but I had to watch it still, didn't I? Surprisingly, I liked Part 2 much better than Part 1. As an independent movie, it's not even average (bad graphics is one reason). As a movie that explains Objectivism, just so-so. But as a movie that somehow showed characters close enough to what I had imagined them, it was pretty awesome.
For part 1, I had thought that the characters didn't have what you imagined them to from the book. And the whole idea of setting this movie in the future seemed stupid. But in part 2, there were some points where I thought it was a good idea. You relate more to the characters because they live similar lives and speak similar language (like using tablets and saying 'asap'). But I didn't like Dagny in Part 2- she was too emotional, didn't have the right amount of confidence AND showed too much cleavage. In fact, what's with all the women in the movie? An inordinate amount of cleavage, even for a Hollywood movie. Maybe somebody thought this abstract philosophy stuff puts people off, so lets make it up with some low necks. Honestly, it made the movie a little weird-looking.
Anyway, I liked most of the other characters- James Taggart (who I think makes a good Peter Keating), Ken Dannager, Lilian, Cheryl. I was not completely happy with Fransisco, but there was one moment in the movie when he said "Isn't money the root of all evil? I have decided to stop being evil" and it made me laugh. For that moment alone, I think he wasn't a bad choice at all. But I LOVED the guy who played Rearden. He was awesome! Just the right amount of sarcasm in his smile, just the right level of confidence and laughter in his voice and perfect expressions in his eyes. And for him alone, I'd say I love the movie.
There was one thing I noticed about the movie that was minor but irked me still. When Dagny waits outside Ken Dannager's office, she thinks that she COULD open the door, but she doesn't and she notes that all that's stopping her is 'civilization'. I love that moment in the book. In the movie she actually pushes the door open, and that bothered me a lot- not because they weren't true to the book, but because that one action betrays the rest of Dagny's character so much.

Anyway, I still love the movie for Rearden alone.

After that, I saw 'Fountainhead'. It's a black and white movie and the screenplay was by Rand herself, so I thought she would stick to the book. To my surprise, she didn't. While there are no character breaches in this one, the plot is changed a great deal. Some of it might have been for length, but it appears to me that when the movie was made, they couldn't show an engaged woman being someone else's lover or getting a divorce etc. Which messes up the plot badly. I could also see the difference in acting styles (compared to now). Maybe it was that but I wasn't too impressed by any of the actors- least by Roark.
And it led me to think about how interpretations and imagination change with time- what Rand saw in her own novel is not good enough for me today! I also realized how changes in movies (compared to the respective books) sometimes annoy me. It may be because I have imagined something and what they make is not as good as what's in my head. Or maybe I hate the parts where I feel the changes don't fit the essence of the plot or characters. (Like Dumbledore shouting out incantations and waving his wand too much. So so un-Dumbledoreof him!)

The other thing is that because I have read these books, my mind fills in the info for everything that's not in the movie. Which means I have no idea whether people who haven't read the book got it or not. And that makes me a poor judge of the movie. 

But well, I'd rather read the book and imagine the story first before I see it. So, its a minor loss I will have to take I guess..

Does taking photos take from life?

(This is the 21st post in the one-month challenge series. This topic is one I have wanted to write about for a long time. Reading this article finally gave me the push to write it!) 

For some of you this title might feel weird- especially the way I have phrased it. So, let me explain.

A long time ago, when you had to actually have film rolls in cameras to take pictures, most people would take very few pictures of their vacations. Then you had to develop the picture, keep it in an album and you would take it out only once in a few years to cherish the memories. Then you got the digital camera with which you could take nearly unlimited photos (limited only by memory- but you could use multiple sd cards; and battery- which also you could have spares for). Even then you would store those photos on CD/DVDs, and see them once in a while. Then came the deluge of devices- handhelds, tablets, ipods, almost anything with a battery and an on/off switch could take photos (and most of them boast 3-5MP cameras!) Every device manufacturer tried to pack more and yet some more camera features- better sensors, higher resolution, filters and more filters; the phone/tablet may be lousy, it may even stop working after a year, but your camera should be the absolute best! Also came along facebook, flickr and instagram. You could not only take unlimited pictures but could put them up online for everyone to gape at. And that's when the problem began.
In a mad mad rush for likes and comments, people started filling the digital world with photographs. When you go to a beautiful place, you (and me included) think of taking the best pic to put up. Does standing here look better? What if I use this filter? (I haven't used any filters so far. The most editing I do to a pic is cropping out strangers from it.) But you see the point- people want to take photos more than enjoy the destination. Or to put it better, I quote this brilliant line from the article above- "My first thought at a pretty sunset--where's my phone?"

Which brings up the question- Are we so much into digital storage and instantaneous shots of facebook-induced dopamine that we have stopped to 'live'? 
(Click on Read more for more...)

RIP Google Reader

I'm back from the weekend and am literally forcing myself to post. So I might just take the easy way out and rant my way through this post. 

About 4 years ago, I started using Google Reader as recommended by a friend. Before that, I didn't spend too much time on the net - at least, not on regular reading. Google Reader brought me to a whole new world that I had heard about but never participated in. I got some blog recommendations (nanopolitan, KrishAshok) and found some on my own through Indiblogger. I also looked up DesiPundit which led me to an entire list of people whose writings I love- greatbong, Shenoy, and CoconutChutney.

One day, I was looking at a Calvin Hobbes comic on the net and I suddenly realized I could subscribe to Daily Comics. That started a whole folder in my Reader- Calvin, Dilbert, Abstruse Goose, xkcd, PhD Comics. I resumed my Coffee-with-Calvin ritual. (I used to read the daily calvin on The Hindu while drinking my morning coffee when I was at home. Once I subscribed to C&H on Reader, I started reading Calvin with my afternoon coffee at work.) Google Reader was one of the tabs always open on my browser.

And today, as a last time effort, I read Hallucinations on Reader this morning. I was just hoping in the corner of my heart, even then, that the guys at Google would finally see sense and let Reader be. Well, considering they are the guys who gave us G+ AND tried to integrate G+ into every good feature until it turned annoying- I should have known better. Midnight today, Reader went out of existence.

Seeing the page say "Thank you for stopping by", it almost feels like one of my best friends died.

So, dedicating today's post to one of the sites that opened me up to the world AND made me spend a lot more time online than I ever would have. To the site that enlivened my coffee breaks through the years. And the site that gave me a lot to write about...

RIP Reader! RIP....

(Update 1: Added links to all the blogs mentioned, except the popular comics!)

The colorful symphony (a short story)

He

The cold water caressed my skin. Eyes closed, I let it wash me blue, like a long slow song. I opened my eyes and saw her- a wallflower among the pretty roses. 

She was not particularly beautiful, 'passable' was almost a kind adjective for her. And no, she didn't have any peculiar charm. She was just another girl. I could see even from a distance she was a little headstrong compared to the other pretty, cute women. A headstrong wallflower- she was an oxymoron. A little like me. For some reason, I liked her.

I had met her only a few days ago, in an artists' convention. She talked with conviction, pride shivering in her voice. She didn't seem to care that nobody else cared as much about what she said. About new techniques for using new tools. About meaning in art. I confess I wasn't listening too well either. Her voice was sweeping me in an ocean of colors- hazel, peach, calm sky blue.

There definitely was something about her!

I went back to my spot on the shore and picked my paintbrush. I was going to compose a melody in color. A slow song, filled with love, calling out to that lady. The first few notes close to each other, just the same notes playing with each other. Then slowly rising, slowly with the chords still on the lower scales. And then the violinists taking over- higher, higher. And finally, back to the melody. The painting was of the sky and the waves, with just a hint of a woman in the distance..

I wanted so badly to run to her and tell her that she had changed my life. She had made the invisible thrushes sing and the spring flowers bloom in winter. Well, for all the poetic dreaming I could go on with- I was scared.She was too smart for me. Too bold. She would definitely slap me. Or say, "I am disappointed with you!". So, I stopped myself and focused on the colors with the song in my head.

Maybe all that love was meant to be converted into musical paintings... And besides, ......

**************************************

She

I moved the umbrella to my side because I hate the sun shining in my eyes. The sea was beautiful. Vast. Silent. I love silence. Which is the only reason I come to the beach. I don't have a beach body. I hate getting into the water and feeling inadequate in front of everyone. But just watching the plain sea and no people- bliss!

I was at the beach that day because of a guy. He was an artist too, like me. And he seemed to understand what I was saying- at least some times! He wasn't great looking, though he looked good enough to me. But was he witty! Just thinking of him made me smile- me, who had forgotten to smile in years of struggle with my condition. My mind kept jumping to all the funny things he said, as if it was a separate entity out of my control. Well, well. I guess I am an idiot too- like everyone else.

Maybe I should go talk to him. He cannot possibly be rude to a woman. But then again, nobody likes women who pursue too much. Maybe I should let him be. I know too well no one likes women who argue, think, rebel and generally behave like men do. And he was just a normal guy. 

He walked out of the water and took his easel. I could see the colors clearly- he wasn't too far. As he painted, I could hear a song in my head. It was a romantic song, but sort of a symphony too. Somewhere it seemed to be calling out to a woman. Oh, well. He was probably calling out to one of those pretty blondes hanging there. One of them always hangs out with him. Maybe his girlfriend. Or maybe he just secretly likes her.

No, I wasn't jealous. So what if she had the perfect tan and body like a sculpture? So what if her blue eyes were the dream of every man around? To hell with men, anyway. I went back to listening to the song (in my head, of course. He wasn't singing- it was just the way his colors sounded in my mind!). 

I guess I got enough of him from his art anyway. Besides....

********************************

He and She

Besides, which normal person would love ME after they knew I had synesthesia?

__END__

(Note: Synesthesia is a rare mental condition where different senses are sort of cross-wired in the brain. Synesthetics can hear colors, smell sounds etc. I am not sure if there is a color->sound synesthesia though there is definitely a sound-> color one. So, this story might not be strictly scientific. Artistic license I guess. Hope you liked it! :) )

Chennai Express, stereotyping and cinema

About a week ago, I saw the Chennai Express trailer and posted it on fb with an equivalent of- 'The only reason why Chennai Express can be this bad is if Mumbaikars are taking revenge on us for the Tamil movie Mumbai Express'. The two-minute trailer had about two million mistakes. (My Intel Media days make me say: That should be ~694 mistakes per frame! Ya, I know I am using my hyperbole license here.) 

Anyway, almost every Tamilian I knew was aghast. Even some non-Tamil south Indians were shocked. THIS was not how we were. (The most glaring mistakes included using Kathakali to depict Tamilians and showing goons threatening with knives that are actually used for harvesting- which no self-respecting goon would even touch. And I am not even going to start on the accent :-/). 

But then, I thought for a few minutes- aren't "North" Indians misrepresented in Tamil movies? From the assortment of "Singh"s who speak unbearable Hindi to Mallu women in blouse and mundu (tied in a way that I have never seen any Mallu woman wearing in all my years in Kerala!), Muslim men always with beard and cap and talking Hindi-mixed Tamil- the list is endless. And you might have noticed the stereotyping in Hollywood as well- Chinese accents, French romantic men, rude Germans, Indian women with jingling jewelry, and it goes on.
If you know me, you might be tempted to ask at this point- didn't you miss TamBrahm stereotyping in Tamil? I was actually saving the best for the last :P From the earliest time I can remember of watching Tamil movies, I have always wondered why Brahmins were sooooooo misrepresented in our movies (Hindi and Tamil alike. Hindi- Hum hai rahi pyar ke, Shaktimaan (the series), Malini Iyer (don't remember the name) are a few off the top of my head!) What did we ever do to the world to be stereotyped so poorly? With all my interaction with Brahmins, I have met too many "normal" people to believe that everyone uses Brahmin accent at work and with non-Brahmin friends. It is almost like somebody picked a stylised accent from a century ago and decided that anybody who is a Brahmin in a movie should speak that archaic accent. (I know some Brahmin guys who look awesome, speak flawless English AND are very intelligent. Which is the exact opposite of the typical thayir-saadam Ambi types in movies!)

So, am I saying that just because we have so much stereotyping in Tamil cinema, it's ok for Bollywood to stereotype us? Well, it depends.
The idea behind having a stereotype is that it is easy for the audience to fill in some gaps and make inferences. Also, it often makes humor very easy- an effort-saver if you are unable to think up good jokes. Which is fine if the audience understands that this is a stereotype used for a joke and not carry the stereotype home.
But there are two caveats to this. The first is that- even some very good movies have stereotypes.  When an otherwise sensible movie has a stereotype, it clashes with how realistic the plot is. It ruins the movie for people who know the stereotype, it spreads the stereotype for those who don't. 
The second is that- unfortunately movie watching usually triggers the emotional circuitry of the brain, but not much of the cognitive circuitry. (There are some MRI studies which show brain activity in the medial temporal lobe, but almost none in the frontal cortex.) What this means is that the audience is emotionally involved with the movie, but not usually thinking. So when a stereotypical character is bad or stupid, the audience is angry or frustrated along with the protagonist, and might potentially carry that frustration back home. (This is just my inference, not part of the study!) So you see, the stereotypes are not harmless comedy at all! 

At this point, I am sure someone is thinking I am creating a mountain out of a molehill. I used to think so too, until I faced some typical racist comments from people around me- From "You are a South Indian so you don't understand Hindi" (which pisses me off because I have read more Surdas and classic Hindi literature than many people who comment), and "You are a TamBrahm so you love curd rice", to "I am surprised you are not mean. Are you sure you are a (*insert any group I belong to here- Indian, Tamilian, Brahmin, Iyengar, whatever*)?" When someone says that, I have an instinct to say "You racist *#*^$%*". But instead I swallow and say "You were wrong about (*the group*) then, weren't you?"

I know that stereotyping doesn't originate in cinema. But because cinema is such a powerful medium, it might be worthwhile to cut down the stereotyping.

As for Chennai Express- it is still an unforgivable stereotyping attempt because it seems to have only racism and almost no humor. But then again, when did I start expecting good cinema from Shah Rukh?