I am much older now, I can feel it.
Think of a pebble at the bottom of a stream. I used to be a pebble who is completely at the stream’s mercy. A certain strong current, a sudden undulation in the stream bed, and I would be uprooted, swept along till I tumble and fall. Then the painful process of taking root again in some place. Sometimes not so painful. Oh who am I kidding, it’s painful all right.
But now again, think of a pebble nestled in a place with a lot of stream bed vegetation! I can choose to move or stay. I can talk to the fellow pebbles in my area. I in fact talk a lot to the fellow pebbles, and we create quite a ruckus. It’s a lot of fun though… the ruckus adds meaning to my life, or should I say, moss to my crevices.
I seem to have discovered the tact and delicacy involved in letting life pass me by when I am a carefree observer, a mere pebble lying alongside a bunch of grass. I have also experienced the delight of letting some currents wash over me, and just, well, being. There is a comfort level, but nothing mundane or boring about it. It’s a comfort awash with all the excitement of moving around! A comfort born out of having cushions around that prevent large chunks of me from being ripped off; out of a certain niche I have dug for myself which allows me to grow and move freely, but which I control of my own volition, without external aid!
Somewhere inside is also the courage that if I allow myself to be swept again, I will be fine. That I am a nice enough pebble, with enough edge to dig myself a niche wherever I go; to make new associations and find my moorings in the strangest of stream beds.
I am 24. High time this happened!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thunder, lightning and lamp posts
The Gymkhana was bathed in golden twilight; a red gold sunset in the distance, robed in stark contrast with black cloud, visible through an intricate maze of tree canopy from the bridge. Everything about the ground seemed beautiful today; the beauty lent such a mantle to the gymkhana that even the outside traffic noise was effectively soaked up.
Jogging had never been so much fun. Silhouettes of trees, lamp posts, even that horrendous large building that looms above everything else on the horizon, the water tank… all beautiful, passing by in a rhythm punctuated by beating heart and racing pulse, each step falling in tune with the surroundings, to such an extent that my legs seemed to move on their own, with no effort of mine.
The change in colors cannot be described. Trying to put words will be an injustice, but I will still try. Myriad tints of every imaginable shade, from one end of the color palette to another, until all colors ran into each other and caused an explosion of happiness in the blood. As the colors faded slowly, an inky blackness crept in, dissolving each shape into nothingness as the night dropped, gently as a veil on the head of a beautiful bride. The change was so gradual, it almost seemed like the earth was rejoicing, in a bride-like manner, at the night.
Just as the darkness was almost complete, the floodlights on the ground came on! A fine drizzle – drops of black dye on the one hand, and molten silver on the other, swimming around as I cut through the spray. It seemed like an expostulation of a person’s life – a central well lit area around which we run, even though we may be in the dark!
Then came the power cut; simultaneously, the thunderstorm that was building soared in intensity! Running in pitch dark is something else. Shards of lightning almost split the sky into two, taking snapshots of the earth and almost frying it in the process! You could just discern mercurial puddles embedded in coral earth, shimmering and rippling as the light kissed them for a fleeting fraction of time.
Nice conversation with N...
Ploppp! Huge drop of water on nose - back to a rainfall of reality! Mad dash across football field! Splashing on squelchy mud until it seemed like no contact between feet and ground!
Nothing like a storm to leave you totally exhilarated!
Jogging had never been so much fun. Silhouettes of trees, lamp posts, even that horrendous large building that looms above everything else on the horizon, the water tank… all beautiful, passing by in a rhythm punctuated by beating heart and racing pulse, each step falling in tune with the surroundings, to such an extent that my legs seemed to move on their own, with no effort of mine.
The change in colors cannot be described. Trying to put words will be an injustice, but I will still try. Myriad tints of every imaginable shade, from one end of the color palette to another, until all colors ran into each other and caused an explosion of happiness in the blood. As the colors faded slowly, an inky blackness crept in, dissolving each shape into nothingness as the night dropped, gently as a veil on the head of a beautiful bride. The change was so gradual, it almost seemed like the earth was rejoicing, in a bride-like manner, at the night.
Just as the darkness was almost complete, the floodlights on the ground came on! A fine drizzle – drops of black dye on the one hand, and molten silver on the other, swimming around as I cut through the spray. It seemed like an expostulation of a person’s life – a central well lit area around which we run, even though we may be in the dark!
Then came the power cut; simultaneously, the thunderstorm that was building soared in intensity! Running in pitch dark is something else. Shards of lightning almost split the sky into two, taking snapshots of the earth and almost frying it in the process! You could just discern mercurial puddles embedded in coral earth, shimmering and rippling as the light kissed them for a fleeting fraction of time.
Nice conversation with N...
Ploppp! Huge drop of water on nose - back to a rainfall of reality! Mad dash across football field! Splashing on squelchy mud until it seemed like no contact between feet and ground!
Nothing like a storm to leave you totally exhilarated!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Two Gentlemen of Verona
by William Shakespeare
Act III Scene I
Also quoted in the movie Shakespeare in Love.
Context: Valentine is threatened with death if he continues his affair with Sylvia.
"...And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive."
A little excessive maybe, but one cannot deny the intensity of feeling and the sheer beauty of Shakespearean English! Sigh!
This is a little paragraph in the above mentioned play, and I thank the movie for bringing it to my attention.
Act III Scene I
Also quoted in the movie Shakespeare in Love.
Context: Valentine is threatened with death if he continues his affair with Sylvia.
"...And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive."
A little excessive maybe, but one cannot deny the intensity of feeling and the sheer beauty of Shakespearean English! Sigh!
This is a little paragraph in the above mentioned play, and I thank the movie for bringing it to my attention.
Friday, November 13, 2009
A room..
Very familiar.
But with certain nuances getting registered and enhanced,
Every which way I turn.
A streak of light
And I spot a half-open window.
Golden light streaming in,
Accentuating muted hues into an autumn meadow of color
I cant help but smile
With my heart upon my sleeve.
Every step toward the window,
Is treasured, measured, and more exciting.
A sudden breeze, bringing with it the smell of wet earth
A drizzle of water splashing my face;
I close my eyes and laugh in anticipation
Waiting to look out and see the view beyond,
but treasuring the suspense all the same.
But with certain nuances getting registered and enhanced,
Every which way I turn.
A streak of light
And I spot a half-open window.
Golden light streaming in,
Accentuating muted hues into an autumn meadow of color
I cant help but smile
With my heart upon my sleeve.
Every step toward the window,
Is treasured, measured, and more exciting.
A sudden breeze, bringing with it the smell of wet earth
A drizzle of water splashing my face;
I close my eyes and laugh in anticipation
Waiting to look out and see the view beyond,
but treasuring the suspense all the same.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Random and sub-conscious
Sometimes a random chance conversation can play around in your head till you are sub-consciously wondering about the crux of it, until some clarity emerges from a muddle of thoughts.
I had such a conversation recently, on asking a question. It freaked me out a little, because in a way I have chosen to do this asking questions business for a living. Here goes.
Research in most fields is fuelled by existing paradigms, to a large extent. There are large bodies of work that support the ‘famous’ theory. But once such theories are dethroned (for want of a better word), there is an equally impressive body of work against it. Stuff happens in a cyclical fashion. Just as the wheel of time goes around, so does the wheel of theories, it seems.
What freaked me was: as a young novice wanting to start somewhere, in what context do I place existing theories? Using them to frame the question you want to answer has an obvious bias. Take sexual selection for instance. Asking questions assuming that there is sexual selection in the system studied may color perception; you may end up reading too much into the behavior of that animal.
So how about throwing the theory out of the window and looking at data for its own sake? But I am not ok with that as well. I like a well thought out question, which not only has an expected outcome but also explicit alternate scenarios thought out a priori. A central unifying theme with little radiating questions.
I guess the way out is to base questions on existing knowledge and literature on the field of your choice, and then trying to make predictions for your study system. To go out and make these bold hypotheses based on literature reviews and reasoning that sounds logical to a few minds at least! Does not matter if you don’t end up seeing what you expected. Actually, it is even more interesting when expected patterns don’t pop up!
I had such a conversation recently, on asking a question. It freaked me out a little, because in a way I have chosen to do this asking questions business for a living. Here goes.
Research in most fields is fuelled by existing paradigms, to a large extent. There are large bodies of work that support the ‘famous’ theory. But once such theories are dethroned (for want of a better word), there is an equally impressive body of work against it. Stuff happens in a cyclical fashion. Just as the wheel of time goes around, so does the wheel of theories, it seems.
What freaked me was: as a young novice wanting to start somewhere, in what context do I place existing theories? Using them to frame the question you want to answer has an obvious bias. Take sexual selection for instance. Asking questions assuming that there is sexual selection in the system studied may color perception; you may end up reading too much into the behavior of that animal.
So how about throwing the theory out of the window and looking at data for its own sake? But I am not ok with that as well. I like a well thought out question, which not only has an expected outcome but also explicit alternate scenarios thought out a priori. A central unifying theme with little radiating questions.
I guess the way out is to base questions on existing knowledge and literature on the field of your choice, and then trying to make predictions for your study system. To go out and make these bold hypotheses based on literature reviews and reasoning that sounds logical to a few minds at least! Does not matter if you don’t end up seeing what you expected. Actually, it is even more interesting when expected patterns don’t pop up!
I watched the movie Perfume.
I guess one can call it well made, brilliantly crafted, edited in the slickest way possible; but cut all that crap out, there is but one word for it. Disturbing.
A true story of a murderer. The tag line said as much. But what puzzled me was two things.
One, the dispassionate narrative. The voice was disembodied, faceless, as narratives usually are (!) but why I am emphasizing this point, is because this voice was also devoid of all emotion. Almost robotic, with a hypnotic effect on the mind. Narrating ghastly events in grizzly detail – without emotion. Like the voices in train platforms and airports.
Second… The more disturbing fact - was my own absorption with the details. I always appreciate detail, but I never thought I would find such detail interesting. All the animal wax and the distilling was chilling, but it held me stuck to the screen in a kind of horrid fascination about what was going to happen.
A true story of a murderer. The tag line said as much. But what puzzled me was two things.
One, the dispassionate narrative. The voice was disembodied, faceless, as narratives usually are (!) but why I am emphasizing this point, is because this voice was also devoid of all emotion. Almost robotic, with a hypnotic effect on the mind. Narrating ghastly events in grizzly detail – without emotion. Like the voices in train platforms and airports.
Second… The more disturbing fact - was my own absorption with the details. I always appreciate detail, but I never thought I would find such detail interesting. All the animal wax and the distilling was chilling, but it held me stuck to the screen in a kind of horrid fascination about what was going to happen.
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