I am a Mad Writer

I start this narrative with a lie that I am a writer. I am not . At least I am not sure about it. What makes me say so?

Like the quintessential inquisitive young adult I got to my computer and typed in the words "Define: Writer". The result was eye-opening. The first link said, a writer is "a person who writes books, stories, or articles as a job or regular occupation." Hmm... retrospect. Being schooled in a typical school with typical teachers and typical (read: boring) academic curriculum, this thought never crossed my head. I used to write essays on mundane topics like "the impotence (er. importance) of discipline". One night, while downing my seventh cup of coffee fumbling on words, googling (again!) fancy sample essays while cursing the teacher and the clock (which again smiles and says 2 hours to deadline) I break-down. Introspect. What am I writing, why am I writing? Does writing simply means- using a system of more or less permanent marks used to represent an utterance in such a way that it can be recovered more or less exactly without the intervention of the utter-er. Ha. I laugh at this definition which in turn mocks me. What do I do now? Google again. I say motivate me Google, and like the rising sun Google shines forth this quote:

"Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.”—Enid Bagnold

Almost brought a tear to my eye. I exclaimed to myself yeah! there is a metaphysical realm to it. it not just a mere conglomeration of words! It is to create a flower out of cacti. So with the keyboard in front of me and a new blogger ID, I the toiling vintner, shall grow words for grapes as they grow on adverbs and metaphors that so they can then be turned into the sweet (and intoxicating) wine. Wait ... rewind, retrospect.

“The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.”—Samuel Johnson

Damn, I didn't do that! I have to be a reader first. So I march to the library and pick up "Moby Dick". Crumbling under the weight of its sentences (and the sheer mass of the book) I set it aside. As Nathaniel Hawthorne said "Easy reading is damn hard writing." Its easier said than done. Anger. Failure. Resentment.

Somehow I got on with reading the works of the greats and the not so greats. I got myself a Goodreads account and then the critic in me started rating the greats. All is well now that I've read a lot, I can write - I thought. And life has been thus, living this lie.

Being as writer and being a good writer are two entirely different things. So what makes one a good writer? Reading and writing a lot. Agreed. But you do need someone to tell you: “You suck” in your face (or on some major social forum).

But then again what gives a person the right to judge others? Not going into the ethics of it, we need writers to judge writers. Theoretically every person must have read a lot and written a lot to judge a person who has done the same. So that’s where other writers come in :

1. To provide judgmental (hurtful) commentary

2. to provide more stuff to read.

This is how I see myself in the milieu of writers today, on the keyboard I slog

I do still wait for some comments perhaps from some anonymous surfer who laid a casual eye.

As the day passes by I chuckle to myself "Writing is its own reward, Sigh."

Going by definition, I am a bard too. Kidding. I am a confused writer, the Mad Hatter. Am I a writer? Do I want to become one if not, then? . I’m troubled to answer I must admit. I’m afraid I will burst into flames at some point if I do. I’m afraid I will fade into obscurity away if I don’t. I’m uncertain if I must become selfish in order to grow into who I want and need to be. But I do know this silent solitude in me is the only thing I've known for years. And I do not wish to watch it go.I need inspiration, motivation and feedback. Arrgh... breakdown, rebellion,, apathy. I am what I am, an agent of chaos. I like being confused. It makes writing interesting. It lets me live in a different world amongst the eccentric characters away from mediocrity and mundanity where everyday is full of promise and well madness. After all
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

Simply because I haven’t got a clue, nor do I give a damn.


Credits: Snoopy, Calvin, Mad Hatter

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I can get no “Satisfaction”

The photograph is old, low quality, black and white (not by intention but by design) and well...  Priceless. We see four people playing musical instruments. A person is singing into a mike and two more are positioned to record the instruments, one on a boom between the musicians and another in front to a nearly five foot tall amplifier. On the floor behind the amplifier a technician looks for guidance from the small group of men huddled in front of the stage. The stage is set up for a musical concert with lights, amplifiers, cameras and evidently, audience. The word “Circus” is written on a banner overhead. Circus? But where are the tightropes, the gymnasts, the elephants and surely the people on stage look like junkies, hippies...er... rockstars rather than clowns. This “Circus” is The Rolling Stones' TV special entitled The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus ( Recorded on 11 December 1968).‘ The project was originally conceived by Mick Jagger (Singer,The Rolling Stones) as a way of branching out from conventional records and concert performances. Jagger approached Michael Lindsay-Hogg, who had directed two promos for Stones songs, to make a full-length TV show for them.



The band playing was a one-time English supergroup consisting of John Lennon(multi-instrumentalist/vocalist,Beatles), Eric Clapton(guitarist, Cream/Yardbirds), Keith Richards (bassist, The Rolling Stones) and Mitch Mitchell(drummer, Led Zeppelin) that Lennon put together called “The Dirty Mac”. In the picture, we see the singer, John Lennon singing into a mike and looking away with a peaceful demeanour. Eric Clapton , and Keith Richards are strumming their guitars and Mitch Mitchell is drumming away.





So how does this photograph depict or remotely call on to expertise?

Well, the fact that the members are multiple Grammy winners, inductees in the Rockand Roll Hall of Fame (with Clapton being inducted 3 times); era definers, legends...(to cut it short “Gods of Rock”). Seeing John Lennon, Eric Clapton and Keith Richards on stage together should give one an idea that something magical is about to happen. This concert indeed seeded the formation of a super group-”The Dirty Mac”. Which perhaps answers our inquisition into context of the photograph, the explanation to which, lies ahead. Colvin’s idea of “practice makes perfect” and “no substitute for hard work”, “deliberate practice” and “adopting a new mind-set” is reinforced by the fact that the members, who are accomplished musicians, became so only after years of hard work. For example, Eric
Clapton started from an early age of thirteen. “He preserved his practice sessions using his portable Grundig reel-to-reel tape recorder, listening to them over and over until he felt he'd got it right.(Clapton 2007, pg 22)”[1]. He is also known to have broken strings mid-concert.  The Beatles' producer, George Martin, tells how Lennon "had an inborn dislike of his own voice which I could never understand. He was always saying to me: 'DO something with my voice! ... Put something on it ... Make it different.(Coleman 1992, pp. 369–370.)” So we can  clearly see that even this legend was not blessed with an innate musical voice. In the words of  biographer Barry Miles, "Lennon simply shredded his vocal cords in the interests of rock 'n' roll.(Miles and Badman 2003, p. 90)

Expertise or Godlike?

Experts are portrayed to embodiment perfection. They are not supposed to be challenged and are prodigies that are sent down by God. We see that Eric Clapton was compared to God's image in the episode "Holy Crap!" of season two of That '70s Show.(You will have to watch the episode to find out) But when we look deep into the lives  of these gods, we find their imperfect mortal forms perhaps similar to the ones in Greek Mythology. We see the amount of time and devotion that these people had to give in. Under the veneer of stardom and fame we see hippies and junkies who love their music. We do find that this fame coupled with the fiery urges of youth develop into arrogance, ignorance and indulgence into worldly vices. One question that comes in my mind after reading these articles on “talent‘ is that how are these “tips” relevant in those times to today's public? As Colvin states, “those extra steps are so difficult and painful they almost never get done.( Covin, last paragraph)” But what motivated, say, Eric to pick up his guitar?

These authors (Colvin/Coyle) seem to ‘upvote’ the concept of “Tabula Rasa‘(theory that  individuals are born without built-in mental content) , it does not seem true. Therefore, the picture is black and white not by intention but by fate. It oozes awesomeness  and expertise par excellence. It motivates to practice harder, do what you love - as the title  suggests (which is actually a song by The Rolling Stones) . The “Circus” is clearly that level  which is reached at the very end of ”Stairway to heaven.” (Led Zeppelin, 1971). So as I listen to  “Yer Blues (Beatles, The White Album)” and write this piece, I can definitely say (and many would

agree) this photograph is the manifestation of expertise itself.

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The "tip" of Talent

*The following is a critical review of  Daniel Coyle's, The Talent Code: The Sweet Spot

Daniel Coyle (2009), The Talent Code: The Sweet Spot (chapter one of part I: Deep Practice)

     Are prodigies brought down by storks or are they forged in the fires of determination as the assiduous hammer of practice strikes the Persistent. Widely believed to be a ‘sent-down-by-God’ kind of an affair, talent is supposedly innate. But if this be true, how is it that we find individual talent coming out in numbers from similar socio-geographical backgrounds? Are the Gods too fond of their patron?

“Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.” -Stephen King

    In his cultural myth-breaker, ‘The Talent Code’, author Daniel Coyle goes a step ahead and clearly claims that -Talent isn't born, it's grown. In the focused excerpt, we find the author emphasizing on the presence of a “sweet spot” which requires “deep” practice to bring about expertise.

       The author starts by narrating his journey across the varied geography in search of talent “hotbeds” which he describes to be similar to the voyage of Charles Darwin (The English Naturalist who went around the world and later gave his theory of evolution). He too was in pursuit of finding similar evolutionary amongst the so called ‘hotbeds’ or “Chicken-wire Harvards”. He then goes on to state the similarity in his observation that "talent" is "the possession of repeatable skills (Coyle, 11)”, and there is a particular thought process and routine which much be undertaken to sharpen one's skill. He draws our attention to the “split second” variations in the cogitation of these prodigies, stating that this change is due to deeper practice- where one struggles on the edge of one’s ability thus ends in learning from one’s mistakes. He goes on to cite Robert Bjork (chairperson UCLA), stating that "One real encounter, even for a few seconds, is far more useful than several hundred observations (Coyle, 18)" and the fact that the human brain has infinite potential and the more the number of obstacles we face, the more we learn.


     Further he goes on stressing on the importance of deep practice by giving the example of Roosevelt's “ Airmail Fiasco” which was solved by Edwin Albert Link, Jr.’s unlikely Blue Box device which trained the pilots Link's trainer permitted pilots to practice more deeply, to stop, struggle, make errors, and learn from them. During a few hours in a Link trainer, a pilot could “spend hours inhabiting the sweet spot at the edge of his capabilities in ways he could never risk in an actual plane. (Coyle, 24)” The Air Corps pilots who trained Links were no braver or smarter than the ones who crashed. They simply had the opportunity to practice more deeply.
 Coming onto “ Brazil secret weapon”, the authors unveils Brazil’s secret in form of futsal - football’s poor cousin- which produced some of the greatest footballers of all time.

       The author’s emphasis on the presence of a “sweet spot” is brought out wonderfully through the tapestry of examples given, though the actual definition is not very clear. We are told that “There an optimal gap between what you know and what you're trying to do. When you find that sweet spot, learning takes off.(Coyle, 19)". But as to how to find this mystical edge (so that we can take this leap of faith?) is still hazy. He just goes to stress upon the need to deep practice ad nauseum (which is rather ironic given the subject matter focuses on concentrated practice and not mere repetition).

     The concept of deep practice seems to be derived from Kolb’s theory of experiential learning(Theories of Group Process,1975).  Kolb's research found that people learn in four ways with the likelihood of developing one mode of learning more than another. As shown in the 'experiential learning cycle' model above, learning is:

• Through concrete experience
• Through observation and reflection
• Through abstract conceptualization
• Through active experimentation.

This is exactly what Coyle describes as deep practice.

           The only commendable aspect of the given article was the variety of examples and instances which presents the idea in a simplistic way thus allowing the most casual reader to imbibe his ideas with ease. A good takeaway from this book is the fact that “Having fun” isn't the primary goal of people who want to get good, though they find what they do pleasurable on some level (or at least necessary) and push through all the difficulties and challenges. The cognizance of the author does not seem to be path-breaking.  It avoids becoming just another syrupy self-help book by stressing the importance of hard work and dedication, but it doesn't bring too many new insights to the table.

References:

"The Sweet Spot" by Daniel Coyle

Wikipedia: "Insight learning", "Airmal Fiasco".

http://www.brookes.ac.uk/services/ocsld/archive/theories.html

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The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Sight, a brilliant and disturbing short sci-fi film by Eran May-raz and Daniel Lazo, imagines a world in which Google Glass-inspired apps are everywhere.

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Flying Still

"Flying without feathers is not easy; my wings have no feathers." 

                                                                                          ~Titus Maccius Plautus

Continuing with my crazy obsession with flight,  here's SmartBird - a flight model of an artificial bird that’s capable of taking off and rising in the air by means of its flapping wings alone.  The wings not only beat up and down but twist like those of a real bird — and seeing it fly leaves no doubt: it’s a perfect technical imitation of the natural model, just bigger. (Even birds think so.) Its wingspan is almost two meters, while its carbon-fiber structure weighs only 450 grams.

But this is just a robot, what if human could flap their own wings and fly like a free bird, into oblivion? 

Here is a model devised by Douglas C. George:

Its been man's obsession to fly since he first set his eyes on the mighty creatures who awry of the world, spread their wings and soar,

"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. "
                                                                                                              ~Leonardo Da Vinci 


Source:  www.ted.com

http://www.dcgeorge.com/ProjectFalcon.html

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On Wings Anew

"Though Minos blocks escape by sea and land.

The unconfined skies remain

  though Minos may be lord of all  the world

his sceptre is not regnant of the air, and by that untried way is our escape."

                                                                                                                     Ovid's Metamorphoses

Such were the words of Daedalus, the father of Icarus, spoken as the two of them sat, trapped in a tower by the evil king Minos of Crete. Daedalus saved them by creating a set of wings for both himself and his son using the feathers of birds. According to the Greek mythology, he was actually quite successful, except for the tragic mistake of binding the feathers together with wax, which melted when his son flew too close to the sun.  Symbolic. Refering to Indian mythology and the epic saga of Ramayana, we see the villain, Ravana, abducting the Sita in a chariot with wings. Dramatic.

From biblical angles to the mutant in X-Men, man has always wanted wings. Earliest experiments to mimic birds failed rather comically and Leonardo Da Vinci’s designs remained on paper. But there was a breakthrough and two brothers finally got it (W)right. Thenceforth came the era of the giant birds of steel. The airplanes today have a fixed wing system but the future seems to be more flexible.

A curious cat purring lightly at a bird, lunch, slowly it moves toward the winged creature with the stealth of a trained predator. As it gets closer, the features of the bird get sharper. But wait, the cat is confused, still it attacks and instantaneously the bird takes flight. In flight the steel joints glisten, the cleverly concealed eye for a camera captures everything. The terrain has been mapped, the unheard conversations recorded and it’s another successful mission for our ornithopter.

There is a stereotyped view that hovering bird is a prototype of a plane.  The prototype of a plane is a kite. The difference is obvious: kite is staying in the air due to overcoming of the air drag, while the bird relatively to the air – with its wings fixed – is always going down.  As hinted above, an ornithopter (from Greek ornithos "bird" and pteron "wing") is an aircraft that flies by flapping its wings. Designers seek to imitate the flapping-wing flight of birds, bats, and insects. The mechanics inside is divided into flexible wing mechanics and flapping wing mechanics and goes on to add various principles like low Renyolds’ number flight dynamics. Not going too technical here,

One may say - why all the hustle, where is the advantage?

·         
Vtol i.e. vertical landing and take- off: I don’t need to explain this to the gamers out there but for the “lesser” kind here it is.  Imagine no runway!  VTOL allows the craft to operate from a diverse array of airfields, using less space to get airborne unlike CTOl where one has to use a runway to gain enough momentum to take off.

·         Lighter, far less complicated: It works on simple wing design. Unlike airplanes and helicopters, the driving airfoils of the ornithopter have a flapping or oscillating motion, instead of rotary. As with helicopters, the wings usually have a combined function of providing both lift and thrust. Theoretically, the flapping wing can be set to zero angle of attack on the upstroke, so it passes easily through the air. Since typically the flapping airfoils produce both lift and thrust, drag-inducing structures are minimized.

·         Capable of long time loitering and hence great for surveys and stealth missions.

·         Finally the element of surprise, camouflage and to say a more natural feel in a sense.

·         Understanding the real birds a bit better

·         Maneuverability which the steel giants defiantly lack.

These are few of the many advantages that an ornithopter has over the conventional aircrafts we see today.

What are people in practice doing?

The Colorado Division of Wildlife has used these machines to help save the endangered Gunnison Sage Grouse. An artificial hawk under the control of an operator causes the grouse to remain on the ground so they can be captured for study.

In 2011, AeroVironment, Inc. announced a remotely piloted ornithopter resembling a large hummingbird for possible spy missions.

In 2008, Schiphol Airport started using a real looking mechanical hawk designed by falconer Robert Musters. The radio controlled robot bird is used to scare away birds that could damage the engines of airplanes.

In March 2011, scientists and engineers at the Festo Bionic Learning Network introduced a robotic SmartBird, based on the motion of a seagull. The SmartBird weighs only 450 grams and is controlled by a radio handset. On video, its flight appears remarkably realistic.

Today’s aircraft have nowhere near the agility and precision of nature’s best fliers. “Bats are different from most animals—and from most engineered materials—because they have very flexible wings that offer a lot of interesting aerodynamic properties,” says Kenny Breuer, a mechanical engineer at Brown University. Patrick T. Mather and his team at Syracuse University have created a material with a similar quality: The polymer chains line up to make it stiff and stable in one direction, but 12 times as elastic in the other. Five to 10 years from now, such a material could allow the wings of small unmanned aircraft to flap by expanding and contracting, which would enable planes to fly at slow speeds and pivot precisely during surveillance missions.

So that was the past, the present and now how are these toys going to invent the

future?

In the Dune universe created by Frank Herbert, an ornithopter (or 'thopter) is a type of aircraft that is one of the primary modes of transportation on the desert planet Arrakis. Herbert describes ornithopters as "Aircraft capable of sustained wing-beat flight in the manner of birds" in his 1965 novel Dune.  The craft achieve takeoff primarily though the beat of their wings, with jet power assisting in propulsion and stabilization. His ‘thopters and carryalls were used for transportation, spice harvest, with maul guns could be used in combat and also for space travel.

That was Frank Herbert’s world we have our own:

·         Integration with swarm robotics: Imagine, Thousands of crows pick up litter everyday across cities everywhere across the world, but are they crows?

·         The flapping mechanism of the bird is similar to that of fishes while they swim. In the future we may have biomechanical submarines disguised as sharks, whales or whatever tickles the designers’ imagination. These can be used for mapping underwater terrain, under water tourism, military and what not.

·         With advancement of technology one may even even try to recreate extinct birds and dinosaurs in order to study their flight behaviour.  Going a bit into fantasy, throw in a flame thrower and viola your very own dragons!

There are endless applications of this fascinating concept. Our imaginations may be restricted now, but one can let go and end up creating something worthwhile.

 Lastly, making a rather bold comment, airplanes are too mainstream. The future belongs to amphibots, ornithropters and to the ones who give wings to their dreams.

 “A bird is an instrument working according to mathematical law, and it is within the capacity of man to reproduce it.”

                                                                                                                      Leonardo Da Vinci

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Happy new Year

*Posting after a long time, sorry guy.

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Happiness IS in your head

With mirth they seem'd be laughing
but had a smile seared instead.
With pain abraded and sadness in place,
Is happiness in your head?


with heads held low and stinging rays of hope
faith grows heavy as lead.
The coal is wet and the brazier grows cold,
Is happiness still in your head?

The urge to do is done away with
the pyre burns and the forest, in dread.
The vision goes bleary and senses askew
Happiness can't be in your head.

Will the fog fade and the obscured sky be clear?
When will the the truth be told, the petitions be read?
Will the promises ever be kept, them songs be sung?
Happiness is in your head?

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Sins of Fathers

*Following signal was received today, estimated to be some 100 years old.*

Signal: SOS-9845-β. Encoding: Morse 109.3.4

Day 234, 1056 another ‘morning’ and Solaris our artificial sun (a complex array of lenses set by the 2^nd Council to mimic the sun) shines above us in the gloomy Sector-6 of the Infermum Terra.
Let me begin by giving you a brief description of Infermum Terra (Hell Earth as coined by Mark-1 of the First Council.)
After the great nuclear holocaust of 3052 A.D. which wiped nearly the entire biosphere- the ambition of few surface dwellers became the burden of the new subterranean. As the dwellers corrupted the God Particle (Higgs Boson), the Old Gods showed their wrath. The scientists then were trying to find a new sustainable source of energy and the scientists now are trying to sustain.
The new ‘Hell Earth’ is… well hell. The surface now is barren. If the much fabled satellites could exist, they would say that the terra looks like Mars, rusty and devoid of life. Nothing green ever grew or can grow, the yellow death star kills all with its merciless radiations yet we somehow harness it to grow ambrosia-ic fruits and vegetables (given off as prizes in the Coliseum). Vestiges of the mighty towers and dry rock are all that’s left. Only cockroaches roam the Earth. Records mock the mighty creatures by describing them as being a few centimeters long. Ha!
We Hypo Sapiens live in pressurized dome shaped chambers in the ill-planed city. There is a central library- which harbors the records of the Old and words of the Wise, the Council and also the school. There are small cultivation centers, a defense base but the major part of the sector is covered by the great generator and the Coliseum. The great generators are the lungs of each sector. They regulate the flow of oxygen, electricity and control Solaris.
The coliseum is the main center of sadistic pleasure- the only type available. The new sky is made of territe, an alloy which is highly lustrous, malleable, and impenetrable evens for cockroaches but at the same time over exploited to rarity.

The Hypo Sapiens is a mere shadow of the mighty Homo sapiens who ruled the surface. The hypo sapiens are weaker (due to unavailability of calcium and vitamin D), smaller and subordinate in every cognitive sense. Our bodies are merely 4ft now and have grown bony with longer hairy appendages. The skin has turned pale and hair grey. Our eyes can no longer bear light and we wear special filtered goggles. The world is no longer multicolored but a mundane shade of blue and red. We are a rather glum lot possibly because of lack of serotonin, a mood regulating hormone. The only improvement as such was our refined sense of hearing. It’s Evolution, in a sense.
The sexes can no longer be told apart and hence our names carry a symbol of our gender. The beautiful flora and fauna is now extinct. Tigers and elephants exist as folk lore; the only fauna left are snakes and insects and flora in form of fungi. The major sources of nutrition are now ARE these ugly creatures. The power of speech is almost lost. The common language is spoken telepathically, modulated-demodulated via special earphones (invented by Jacob Bell of the 5^th Council). The child- as a couple was allowed only one (to keep in sync with the supply and demand of resources) - had a bright future if it got into cultivation – cool water, serenity and respect. Else it was the post of generator engineering- muck, oil and 12 hours of toil, or worse- a gladiator. The Terra has not seen a renaissance of the social sciences in ages; there are no painters, poets or funnymen. The only joke is on us as the Council says. Every Thursday the Dic-tator plays that torturous noise called rock music, a stern reminder of his authority.

Sector-6 is also one of the major hotspots for the cockroach attacks. They cannot be killed as such and are just warded off by the special aerosol created from the rotting carcasses from the Coliseum or sometimes with the help of ‘volunteers’ (the brave who protect our greens.)
The volunteers were, what the Wise called zombies- the lot so exposed to radiation over time that their cognition was beyond repair and conscience, dead. They were the puppets in the hands of the Dictator.

The major problem is sanitation. Earlier they used to flush the wastes underground, but now we dump it up there. There still are inter-sector wars. What evolution couldn’t teach us is harmony. And the dogs of war are always on the edge pushing on to break free, usually hungry (literally!).

We still use the same old technological setup as set by the earlier councils. We are too dumb for innovation or perhaps too nihilistic. The only morbid sense of pleasure is drawn from the Coliseum where we watch our own kin kill each other in metal suits.

We had lost contact with our colony on T-1764 centuries back after the great radiation storm of 73 and no contact could be established ever since. We do wonder whether the humans there would be like us or not, would they be happy to have left us to our fate or whether they evolved to fit the model of future humans as the Old dreamed of, because we didn’t.
Whose fault was it? Well, man is the architect of his own fate. As for us we are no more alive but not dead yet. We may soon be dead but every day we wake with a dream of rescue by our colonial kin. That’s why we live on, for a better future as we send this signal every day.

So if any form of life out there gets this message please help us! We are on the verge of extinction…

……………………………..………!!!ERROR!!!...............................................................

………………………….***MESSAGE INCOMLPLETE***……………………………..

This was my submission for the 'science fiction' writing category.

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LINE OF DISTINCTION OR LINE OF SYMMETRY?

*This is a piece written by a friend of mine, Shehzad Hathi. Hope you like it!

The narrow line of distinction between men and women has widened immensely over some periods of history. In the ‘Chaos Theory’, this may be described as the ‘Butterfly Effect’, where a little error transforms into a huge one, owing to further calculations performed with that error. A very striking instance of this fissure is the patriarchal society.

‘So dark the con of man’- the anagram of Madonna of the Rocks would have incited the ‘The Da Vinci Code’ readers (especially the feminists). Although there have been rebellions against the unjust society, people have wondered: did women ever have a Renaissance?

Now I have a question that few would have pondered upon. Do you
seriously think that due to patriarchy, only women have suffered? Why do you think men are always found at higher risk of a heart attack on an average? Why are stricter punishments awarded to boys than girls at school? Why the hell should soldiers who fight on fronts be mostly men when we have heard stories about fierce Amazons in the past? The answer to all these questions and many more is patriarchy. Therefore, every man must loathe patriarchy as much as a woman does.


By talking about all this stuff, don’t think I am downplaying the evils of patriarchy that have tormented women over generations. What I am suggesting is that equilibrium is beneficial to both parties. Therefore, I must warn all men and women to stay away from male and female chauvinistic ideas. Those who find female chauvinism an alien concept must remove some seaweed from their brains and get updated.

A question that intrigues me is that why are so many feminists bestowed with an inferiority complex. While they must report crimes meted out against women, they must also encourage women to emulate epitomes and that, is not actually happening. For example, I know people (women, I mean) who don’t know anything about (and don’t actually care) Indra Nooyi, Chanda Kochar or Hillary Clinton. While this is pardonable, what is not pardonable is that they do not think that women can be like those mentioned above because they have hardly ever known women like those in their lives. So while it is quite easy for us to discuss stuff like women should fight for their rights, we may not realize that there are people who don’t know a thing about their rights. Therefore, if you are going to fill their minds with pessimistic junk like human rights abuse and so many women falling prey to those abuses, you are just cementing their age-old myths. Let us consider an analogy. A slave in Virginia is told every day that s/he is enslaved. Slavery is a gruesome inhumane crime! But it is like hammering on cold iron. Instead if s/he is shown that other slaves are fleeing to Ohio, your job is done.

The idea is that self-realization and self-motivation is what we want. You know what, making special laws for women rights violation is also an acceptance of the yoke of patriarchy. Why not just consolidate human rights laws because then we are treating the two sexes as equal. While the need of the hour is to provide special laws for protection of women rights, in the long term, every feminist must seek to curb those laws and not elaborate them. This should be considered as attainment of symmetry.

PS: The article is not obsessively optimistic. While it does not negate the plight of women, it is an antidote to pessimistic feminism.

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The Tree

Over the hill grew a mighty tree,
Seeded by the Gods themselves.
Nourished by the Mother, growing free,
taken care of by the little elves.

Its trunk was strong,
Green were its leaves, deep were its roots.
A myriad of animals doth throng,
To taste its heavenly fruits.

It sheltered creatures of a variety wide,
Even the outcasts that did flee.
Like the mischievous snake that there did hide,
Also, did the humble bee.

On an ominous day, came on metal horses, 
And claimed the forest to be theirs.
They hath used chemical forces,
And stole the golden fruits from its rightful heirs.

Greed! they took its fruits to sell,
Killed her residents there,
Wounded thy mighty Belle!
And winter doth come now, rendered Her bare.

Alas! the tree was  barren,
It bore no fruits.
Its leaves had fallen,
And withered were its roots.

It stood then like a ghost of the night,
its bark grew hollow....
suffering from blight.
nothing could bring it back, even Apollo....

The love that nourished her was lost,
Greed had taken its place...
But at what cost?
It doth rot away then, leaving no trace...

The Gods showed their spite now,
For mercy they did beg.
Many a seeds they then sow,
But the Gods doth segue.

Drought and disease took many a soul,
The city bell no longer did chime.
Men of greatness died without extol,
Tis' the dying Bard's rhyme.

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Euro Cup 2012

As the skies of Kiev were lit up with spectacular fireworks and the Olympics stadium painted in red with the Spaniards frolicking with the silver cup, it was the end of yet again the end of a memorable season of good football.

The defending champions and world‘s best thrashed the Italians 4-0 to win the biggest final in 52 years, while favourites like Villa and Puyol missing the match.  It was achieved with David Silva and Jordi Alba scoring two in the first half and two in the second, one coming from the much meme-d Fernando Torres- the recipient of the prestigious golden boot (not the one to leave a print). Safe to say Italy got served with a cherry on top

The much favoured (personally) Germany choked out in the semis yet again, after dazzling form all season and a great show in the latest edition of the world cup. With big wins like 4-2 over Greece, they succumbed to the Italian 1-2, a bitter disappointment in the hearts of fans all over.

Portugal too, with hotshot Cristiano Ronaldo was sent packing in the semis by the La Rojas themselves. A stumbling penalty shootout, with Spain winning 4-2.

The best match came from the Portuguese as they beat Denmark 2-0 with an 87^th min goal from Silvestre Varela ending Denmark’s euro dreams, exciting stuff.

The seasons set net footnotes in history as Spain became the first ever to retain the euro cup and Vincete De Bosco became the only coach to win the world cup, euro cup and the champions league.

And with the on field theatrics, suave passes and critical goals from the eminent players and Mexican waves the whole tournament was exciting enough to claim the life of an 26 year old Chinese  guy, who died trying to watch all euro cup matches for 11 continious days

.

Still, this edition did justice to the world’s favourite game, leaving fans satisfied and Poland –Ukraine’s coffers a bit fuller.

                

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The Dream in Shades

I woke up in a land of Dreams,

No, not the one with a fairytale theme.

T'was a dark desolate place, where the devil doth roam,

Where on profanity, lust and greed doth men clomb.

There was no one but me shadow as a friend,

As I roamed about this emptiness - hungry, tried à wits end.

Suddenly the air chilled, sky darkened and my shadow flew,

A fiend appeared with crimson eyes and skin a deadly shade of blue.

As the monster looked me in the eyes,

I knew it was Fate in disguise.

The life I had lived flashed moments apart,

Quanta of emotions exploded in my heart.

I said - "If this be the end i don’t want thee,

The ferryman will have to leave without his fee".

I struck the beast hard never realizing His plan,

It was me that died as It was slain.

Everything was blurry as I opened my eyes,

I didn't have glasses on, I realized

I put them on to see a familiar scene,

A ransacked room and a bright LED screen.

I had dozed off playing the Game,

Stuck on some level - what a shame!

Realizing - such similar is the strife,

Call it a game, Call it Life.

                                                          ~suggest a title...

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