The amusing and the absurd - Part VII

There is a similarity between love and exams. In both, one is judged too quickly. Its funny that in the former we approve of it, in the latter, we don't :)

^:)^@My bro's status msg

Sriram

Is Quantum Mechanics ΨΦ?

Copyright: Sriram Sivaramakrishnan

I found the perfect reply :D

Sriram: stealing you status msg :)

me: :))

my pleasure

that's the idea in fact ;)

the propagate

4:05 PM *to propagate

oh,

did i show you my picasa pics?

4:06 PM Sriram: ur prev status msg?

me: yeah

Sriram: saw them

me: the langkawi island one

oh, good

Sriram: who did you go with?

4:07 PM me: with my soul mate

punctuate appropriately ;)

Sriram: hehe

4:08 PM me: :)

The amusing and the absurd - Part V

I remember thinking one afternoon while travelling in Hyderabad that ironically as the traffic continues its exponential increase in both numbers and chaos, I foresee the number of deaths by accidents only decreasing. The densities are so high that vehicles move at a crawl all the time, and I've found that even at one's maximum speed in such traffic, its easy to come to a grinding halt to avoid, say, the ubiquitous auto that juts its nose into traffic from the side after picking up a customer.

The little birthday surprise :-)

I'm past the stage when I have any wish to celebrate my birthday, or even let anyone know its my birthday. Its quite insignificant really. Nevertheless I had a special birthday surprise this year. It was so special, not because it was all arranged grandly, but because no one arranged it. I slept late at night and so awoke only at around 10:30 am on a lazy Saturday morning. I had to go to lab to finish some work that needed urgent attention. In a dazed and inertial way I moved about the house getting myself ready. At the perfectly insignificant hour of 11:16 am I left my house for the campus. Just as I stepped out my house and faced the road, a couple of students on bicycles passed by, one of them carrying an inflated balloon which said 'Happy Birthday!' :-) It obviously wasn't intended for me, and they just passed along by. But the incident was special because of its absurd impossibility!

The amusing and the absurd - Part IV

How ironic that the common principal problem of the Indian and American masses is the same - ignorance :-)

It is very interesting that two very different factors have led to the same problem. In India, the lack of education is directly responsible. In America on the other hand, the problem is a little more twisted. It comes from such an excess of freedom and protection, that all things external to the nation would make little dent in the conscious mind, unless one deliberately chooses to bother oneself with seemingly remote affairs.

The amusing and the absurd - Part III

I distinctly remember being amused when during an India-Australia one day match, Robin Singh plodded, and very literally too, to a 50 and then ended up puking on the ground from exhaustion! It was the probably the only time I'd ever seen him make an even slightly significant contribution to the team's score, and very probably too the only time that he scored a 50 in one-day internationals, and to celebrate that by spreading his joy(if the pun may be excused) made me sneer at his fitness level. Today, I just learnt to my utter disbelief that Robin Singh is India's fitness trainer.
:-)

The amusing and the absurd - Part II

The phenomenon of honking in India is amusing in its absurdity. In a country like ours, which reeks of short-sighted selfishness, it is obvious even to the most obtuse mind that a vehicle won't slow down or give way to another vehicle even if a knife were stuck to his throat. Such being the case, if a vehicle is seen to slow down in traffic, it must be obvious that the only reason it must be happening is that it is absolutely impossible, even theoretically, for the vehicle to move ahead. Thus, honking is least required in a country like India. In fact, it would be more comprehendable if people honked in the United States, where people are so generous in giving way, that it could easily drive an impatient man like me insane. Ironically, people rarely honk there and people rarely stop honking here.

The amusing and the absurd - Part I

It tickles me in its faint irony that most indian women make such fuss and fury about their virginity to ultimately be deflowered by a stranger.

Sagespeak for today.

Genius is 99 percent perspiration and 1 percent inspiration - Thomas Alva Edison.

My sagespeak: He for got to mention that the 1 percent inspiration is a pre-requisite to the 99 percent perspiration.

Advice.

Sage speak 1: Find yourself an illusion and cling to it.

Sage speak 2: Have an ambition, but make sure its impossible to attain, or else you'll only be disappointed.

Weird dream

The guy for whom I was a teaching assistant for one whole year was standing at one end of the boat, facing the inside of the boat, and staring long and hard at the the wood, as if trying to see through it, to gauge the depth of the waters. Someone was standing at the centre, I can't recollect who now, but I think it was his daughter. I was standing at the other end of the boat and facing him. Curiously, we were all standing. I had a premonition, going by the look on my former boss' face that he was going to commit suicide, with a stylish backward dive, head going first into the waters. No sooner had I thought this than he did just that. Then for some reason, as if our mission had been accomplished, his daughter and I dived into the lake and swam towards the shore, neither of us making the least effort to see what become of her father. So we reached the shore, and see that her father reaches too, a few minutes after us. I would've been disappointed by the sight had I been wishing to elope with that girl, but I didn't really care for her so I was unperturbed by the sight. Then I turn my head, and find Partiban, that tamizh movie actor, walking up to me. He greets me with much warmth as if we were long lost friends. Then he takes me to his humble home which is a dingy shack, but its on the first floor of an apartment, and so we get there in an elevator. Once in the shack I see his emaciated wife and her starved kid. Then we step out, and somehow the conversation comes to our take on life. I said something to the effect that I care most for myself and that others come only next. This made him turn no particularly different colour with fury, but he was very furious, and one could see as much on his countenance. He looked aghast and screamed at me, "You bastard! How can you say something like that. You must give more importance to the plight of others!" There was a man nearby, and strangely, he was holding a razor blade in his hand. Partiban grabbed it and came to slash it across my face with full force when I asked him to halt and appealed to his sense of justice by declaring it wasn't a fair contest if I didn't have a razor blade to defend with. The next scene happens in front of a vendor where he buys 15 packs of 10 razor blades each. Then he rips apart one pack and grabs a brand new Mach-3 and pounces at me. Naturally, I was scared to fight Partiban with razor blades, having no experience in the art. So I had to find a way out. This is when it occurred to me that what he was doing was pointless. So I reminded him how battle was ineffective, because one would lose and the other would win, physically, but neither would change over to the other's point of view. Fortunately, he did see sense, and dropped the razor blade idea. But somehow, I had been slashed once or twice during the course of my convincing him, and i bore some wounds. Anyways, he then took me past his shack on the first floor of his apartment to another shanty. It was just one room, bolted from the outside. He opened it for me. It was very dark inside for there we no windows. The light that streamed in through the door revealed to me some half-dead, naked human beings. One was an old grandma. Then I believe there was a marasmus-ridden kid, and a few other such repulsive looking creatures. I thought in my subconscious, "Argh, how bollywood like my dreams are", but the dreams continued. Then came the hilarious part. When I was in this shanty full of starved souls meant to evoke my sympaty for pity or concern or whatever it is, I had struck conversation with one of them. While I was walking back from the shanty I forgot that person's name. I tried racking my brains hard for it but couldn't recollect. So I turned to Partiban to ask what that person's name was. Now I suddenly realised I didn't even remember Partiban's name(he had some different name in my dream). So I stare at him, and he stares back at me. I try to think of a name so that I may address him, but I am completely at a loss. He just continues to stare at me as if he won't open his mouth unless I mention his name. And then because I forget his name, and he becomes like a statue unless I name him, I end up having no choice but to wake up and go brush my teeth.

Now my memory is beginning to trouble me even in my dreams! :(

The Gods are dying

Forget the masses, back then, even the thinking persons considered most elements of nature and the outer space as Gods because they never understood what was happening. Today the sensible man has no God to fall back on. Vast extents of outer space have been explored and there's theories to explain most of what is seen and even not seen so that we know its just a bunch of matter going around in meaningless precision. The elements of nature too have been reduced to equations. So much so that today's weather prediction systems are so accurate that one isn't sure whether those systems predict the weather or decide the weather. Just a few Gods of yesteryear are existent today, mostly supermen. And even they need scientific approval. Gone are the days when people just took for granted a christ or a krishna. Today, there are scientists carbon dating fossils and what not to check whether there really was a christ, or a krishna.

The Gods are dying. So why are you alive?

Time machine.

I was absolutely certain that today was Thursday. So certain that when my professor asked the senior RA if he's busy over the weekend, and he replied, "I've got plans for tomorrow," I blurted out, in a tone which suggested that i was accusing him of shirking work, "But tomorrow is Friday!" The RA and my advisor looked perplexed and said simultaneously, "Today is Friday!", and I was so absurdly sure of myself that i asked, a little amused, "Today is Friday?" and took out my cell phone to prove them wrong only to find, much to my mortification that today was Friday. "Oh, Today IS Friday!", I screamed, excited at the thought that i'd gained a day(meaning one less day of work) while the prof. and RA gave me blank stares much to my discomfort.

But the point is that it feels absolutely wonder to have gained a day! I still can't believe its actually Friday. I had a whole schedule of work lined up for tomorrow in my head, and now I realise I don't have to do any of it! This is perhaps the closest that any man has ever got to time travel!

Yippee!! \:D/

Geek joke.

Warning: Only for Materials Science/Physics students:

Why did the Materials Scientist throw the orange juice at his best friend's new shirt?
He was doing OJ(Auger) Electron Spectroscopy to determine the shirt's material!

:D

Name sake.

A typical application form in the US:

Last name, First name, Middle name.

:)

Free.

It was a Friday night and I felt strangely miserable. I had no idea why. But I knew if i stayed on any longer in my room i'd go mad. I knew even better that if i saw a familiar face i'd yell at him to get lost. Such being my state, i quietly stepped out my room, an hour after sunset, so that it was less likely i would be spotted. I decided to go up the nearby mountain. Alone. So I walked, briskly, to reduce the risk of being sighted, with head down, so that those acquaintances who are not familiar enough to call my name out loud, but would've said 'hi' nevertheless if they saw my face, can be avoided. After 10 successful minutes, I reached a thoroughfare I had to cross to get to where the mountain is. The walk sign was a loud red and I squinted my eyes. I paused and stared at the dull grey concrete. I tried to sniff the tar but I inhaled a cloud of smoke. The vehicles were speeding by with their monotonous hums. It annoyed me. So i looked up to my left and I was dazed by the brilliant headlights of a car. It enraged me so much i wanted to throw a brick at him, but i found nothing around me. It was still red. I fidgeted. "What if I don't wait for the walk sign to turn on and cross the road? The vehicles are moving comfortably fast." I should be killed i reassured myself. I might have inconvenienced the driver of the unlucky car that would hit me. But I was feeling sufficiently selfish then and this thought didn't occur to me. I took a short step onto the road when it was still green for the vehicles. My heart skipped a beat or two. "What if i don't die? What if i'm only injured?" Too much fear. I was ashamed of myself. I stepped back, just as a vehicle came and halted an inch away from my foot. The walk signed glowed, and I crossed. Now I knew I wouldn't meet familiar faces so I slowed down, that I may enjoy the walk. It was pleasantly warm. A slight sweat was enveloping my body. I took off my T-shirt. It would've been nice to walk naked I thought. But I feared the cops so i desisted. As I approached the moutain the surroundings were transforming. The odd enthuastic jogger was terminating his marathon. A couple was holding hands and entering a restaurant. Another was walking aimlessly. There were many cars. But none made noise. None moved. Their menacing forms were at rest while their owners fled to the thoroughfare i'd crossed five minutes ago, to enter one shop and another. In five minutes, life had altered. It seemed to have slowed down, from the chaos of that thoroughfare to this lonely street that led to the mountain. The mountain made a splendid sight. A big, black mound, against a dark blue sky. I could see neither the beautiful trees nor the cascading surface of the mountain. Just a huge dark triangle. It was my faith that held the mountain there. I knew it. It could just as well have been the triangular door that led to hell. At that point, I didn't care either way. So I walked on, untroubled. As I began the climb, all the cursed noise from the city subsided. Within a few minutes I could hear nothing but my own footsteps, making a sweet sound that resembled the jingling of a bag of sand. The malodorous perfumes of the genteel citizens was gone too. Lights, those blasphemous lights, street lights, car light, shop lights, even cell phone lights, all had disappeared. It was pitch dark. No moonlight even. Instead, i had the street light that scattered off the dust from the city. I felt pleased at the lull to all my senses. I glanced up to see the distance I had to walk to get to the top. It was still a good few miles away. I slowed down. I wished to savour every moment of this solitude. A gentle breeze blew across my face and I halted to communion with it. Suddenly, I heard something behind me, like the tinkling of bells. I looked around sharply, only to see some shrubs dancing in the wind. It must've been my imagination. But why did it produce a tinkle? My imagination must be queer I thought. But i'd never known it to be queer before. Its been ordinary at best. A thought then occurred to me that had never occurred to me before during the climb. What if there's someone on the way up, provided with no good intentions, but with a gun? I was seized by fear, that same fear which seized me when i had taken that short step on to the road and contemplated an accident without death, the same fear that seized me when i thought of cops imprisoning me, naked to satisfy my whim, but in the company of jailmates. I shuddered. I looked to make sure there was no one around, then I resumed my walk. I must get to the top I said to myself. "Is a man with a gun really so scary? What would he want? Money? Nothing else, right?" I put my T-shirt on. "Yes, money is all he would want." My eyes searched the shrubs and trees around me even as I walked, even as i thought. "Ok, i can give him my credit card. He'll take the cell phone too if he's clever. So i'll be poor. Is that such a bad deal? Perhaps not." My ears were pricked. Just the jingling of sand. I glanced upwards. Still a good way to go. "Would he hit me? Why would he hit me if I comply? Out of madness perhaps. I'll bleed then. That's not so good. Of course, I may not bleed too. But one of those places is worse." I grimaced. The wind died. My footsteps grew louder, and louder, till it seemed like I would go deaf. So I slowed down, in spite of myself, so that I could hear for other footsteps. My heart raced. I glanced down the hill. I saw a torch flickering. The light oscillated like a pendulum about him, even as he inched foward. I smiled at the thought that he must be thinking himself very clever. He was lulled into a false sense of security by the light surrounding him, but it must be a delightful warning for anyone who wished to waylay him. Poor lamb i thought, and moved on. Then I asked myself if i really had to move on? "I could just hastily run back down. After all, I am not even half way up. We'll leave that decision until later. For now, the heart's racing and it must race," I told myself. "It would be sad if he hit me. But what if he shot me? Why would he shoot me? Why am I asking such supremely logical questions of a man who might be insane for all i know? What if he merely bought a new gun, and wants to test it on me? Now that's more like a madman! Ok, so I die. Is that bad? Perhaps not. No, not really. It would make a few people sad for a few moments. And that's about it." I then remembered I had read somewhere that for every step we took millions of cells died and fell off our bodies. Cells are the smallest living organisms my biology book once told me. " I don't crumble to dust because one cell died, or, for that matter, even a few million. Even so, the universe will continue on its journey, and I would just be a cell that died, and fell off" At this last thought I chuckled. I imagined him shooting me, and my rolling off to the side of the track and falling all the way to the bottom of the mountain. The odd coincidence that even the falling off was accounted for in my parallel amused me. "So its not such a bad deal after all." I slowed down. I stopped. I turned around to look at the city. From a distance, the city had an queer appeal in all its well-lit glory. From within, it was hell. So it is with life too I thought. When viewed with detachment, from a distance, like a spectator from the heavens, your life, your past, all seem a fine spectacle, a remarkable phenomenon. But when you are living in the here and the now, it can often be unbearable. Just then I heard a quick shuffle of feet, my heart skipped a beat, but before I could turn towards the source of sound a huge, powerfully built man had come up in front of me from nowhere, and he was pointing a gun at me. I checked to see if it was new, as I had imagined. It wasn't. He was full of tattoos on his skin, and there were numerous piercings on his face, some in very sensitive regions too. He said what he'd been taught to say, "Gimme all yor maaney o' i'll shootchu!" "Sure thing." I said and quickly gave him my credit card. Somehow, I was not too scared. Yes, my heart was palpitating, but all that bracing myself for this had given me a strange strength. I gave him my college id too for it was useless to me now. "Shoot, I've forgotten to take money! That's most important." I thought to myself. But I looked at him and smiled as I replayed that odd choice of words in my head. "Why you smilin' at me you bastard? Don't play games or i'll shoot. Putcho fuckin' hands in the air!" he said, giving me a scorching glare. He seemed unsettled though, from my smile. His profession hadn't prepared him for that. "Take all you want my friend." I said and stared right at him. For the first time in my life, at that moment, I saw true fear. He looked as if it was I who had the gun pointed at him, in the midst of a vast plain field, and was saying, "I'll give you one chance to escape. Run!" He quickly bent to my pockets to see if there was anything left. But he kept looking up now and again with fear written all over his face. It was almost as if he were a little kid, placing his implicit trust in me not to do any harm. He found the cell phone. I thought he'd shoot me for not giving it. That was the idea of course. Or at least, hit me. Though that wasn't what i wanted. He took the cell phone and stood up. Then with the face of a frightened kitten, he stared at me with moist eyes. He punched me hard on the chin and i fell down to the ground with a thud. Blood gushed out of my mouth, and one of the teeth had cut my tongue. It hurt very sorely. "Don't call me a friend you mothafucker! I'm no fucking friend i say. Why did you call me a friend eh?" he said, and ran, just as in the picture I had painted in my head, as if he were running for his life, and I was going to shoot him down anyways, but some mad hope prompted him to run. I couldn't move. I knew I couldn't get home. But i didn't want to go home. The breeze seemed to be blowing again. I thought it had a pleasant odour to it. The stars were few as i looked up at the sky, but what few were there looked cheerful. I closed my eyes, and felt strangely happy. When i reopened my eyes, it was morning. There was blood on my chin, and my shirt was stained too, so i know it wasn't all a dream. The sun was blindingly bright, but i thought it looked more pleasing than ever.

The literal sense of humour.

I was wondering today, when is it that humans laugh. After much deliberation, it seems to me, who is so bent upon finding a small finite number of underlying causes for all these great mysteries, that the great thread that connects all laughter is the absurd. I think most humour originates from a sense of the absurd, be it slapstick or witty. Or any of those other genres mentioned under humour in social networking forums. I do not have the patience to take each particular genre and iterate my case because its hard for me, honestly, to break it up into so many genres. I think its essentially of two fundamental types. Those that involve the mind's processed response,i.e., post-thought. And those that are spontaneous,i.e., purely as a consequence of sight, like in the case of slapstick. In these two very fundamental types, i shall cite quick examples. When a man falls, what makes us laugh? I think its the absurdity of a fallen man. Just as we laugh when we see icecream on a friend's nose. Its just the absurdity of the sight. As for thought processed humour, one can find plenty in novels in the humour genre. But here's an instance: In 'The Pickwick Papers', Samuel Weller is called to the witness box. This is the sort of chap who is always in good humour. The attorney on the plaintiff's side wishes to quickly unsettle the witness. So he glares at him. The plaintiff begins:
'Now, Mr. Weller,' said Serjeant Buzfuz.
'Now, sir,' replied Sam.

Just the sheer absurdity of his throwing in that totally redundant 'Now,sir' was so hilarious it literally had me rolling on the floor laughing. I can cite many more instances to those interested in thinking about this seriously and discussing with me.

The reason i wrote this post, however, is that i'm not completely certain. I have a strong case for absurdity. But i was initially revolving around 'loss of dignity', i.e., 'humiliation' though the latter seems much too strong a word for what i wish to convey. And there might be something else that is a far better connect that i might've entirely missed out. If any one who reads this post has some other well thought out answer, i would be DELIGHTED to hear it and may be even discuss it if we can. Thanks!

Pronunciation trouble.

I have this Hindi speaking friend with a strong native accent in his English. He was describing the plot of his new apartment when he told what sounded to me like, " The masturbate room is awesome!"

:)

Height of joblessness at work:

Is when you start organising your spam into folders.