It gets curiouser and curiouser!

Sunday 9 March 2014

The tale of a ‘booksmith’

Once upon a time, there lived a ‘booksmith’. On the lines of blacksmiths and goldsmiths, a booksmith is a person who forges and makes things out of books. He is a person who spends more time with books than with people. They are the best friends he never asked for. Other people constantly wonder how the booksmith is always comfortable being alone. But he rather likes being in the company of a mind than a person. He finds his bliss in books. He worships writers and the long walk to the library is his pilgrimage. Still upon this time, there lives this booksmith. This is the simple tale of his lifelong romance with books. It could be you, it could be me, it could be anyone, and that is the whole point of being a booksmith.

I was always a curious child; Passionate and inquisitive in a certain manner. I was that weird kid who pesters his dad to get him more books than chocolates. I wouldn’t bother reading School Curriculum but books were my brain fodder. It was Tamil Magazines that first spurred my interest in science. I still can’t forget how I used to cut out the most interesting nuggets and experiments from the magazines and paste them on a note making a magazine of my own. I grew up without Google; hence books were my only source of knowledge. Google is like an elevator. It is faster and easier, agreed. But that doesn’t replace all the staircases in the world. Books are my staircases; they can take me up or trip me down. But they are always there for me, awaiting my journey.

Being curious, I always ask questions: to parents, to teachers and to friends. There was an instance in high school when I was uncomfortable with the idea of ‘pi’ being irrational. The number pi was both infinite and non-repeating. I thought: How could a number go on forever? Who has programmed the decimals that follow 3.141? How is this seemingly mysterious number connected to the fates of any circle of any radius? I asked this question, in a quite persistent way to my teacher who put off my question and also numbed me down by telling I was wasting precious class time. I was forced to give in to the system but I didn’t give up my hope for better prospects. Sometimes later I had the good fortune of learning under Prof.Ravi Sankar who welcomed the spirit of questioning. He quoted Carl Sagan” There are naive questions, tedious questions, ill-phrased questions, questions put after inadequate self-criticism. But every question is a cry to understand the world. There is no such thing as a dumb question”  and suggested us to read his books. I then tried Carl Sagan’s books and heard his voice speaking clearly and directly inside my head.

 In his novel Contact, the protagonist Ellie is in a similar situation of getting ridiculed by her teacher for asking a ‘stupid question’. I could relate to the character, empathize with her and learn how she handled such situations. She ended up being an astrophysicist. She might be just a fictional character, but she inspired me that it pays off to be curious and inquisitive. And it did. I never stopped my quest towards knowledge and continued asking questions until I got an answer. And that passion to read, that spirit to always learn more, got me into Research Science Initiative- a summer research program at IIT

                 To me, Science isn’t just a repository of facts and definitions. It is a way of thinking. There is a way to approach science and I learnt it, surprisingly, from reading the Harry Potter books. The following is a paragraph from Harry Potter 6.
"Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost" said Snape. The whole class looked around at Harry, who said, "Er--well — ghosts are transparent". "Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent."'
Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle. Several other people were smirking. Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid —" "A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Snape. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth, and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent. "
"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'"
There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave the class.
What Harry Potter suggested is how one should approach Science. He makes a simple but careful observation on whether the creature in question is transparent or solid, based on a physically well defined parameter and makes a deduction from that observation. It is a decision based on experimental observation and not definition or mere hearsay. To me, that is the essence of scientific method.

I write mostly Tamizh poems. I’ve aced the poetry competitions, recited my poems during Independence and Republic day celebrations in school. Strangers have congratulated me on my choice of simple words in poetry. But writing has never been easy for me. It is a struggle I am willing to take. Sometimes I just sit alone in the night and think of all the anguish in my heart and truly wonder if anyone will ever want to make sense of all that I am. Writing is my way of discovering myself. If you give me an ear, I’ll give you a voice. If you give me your heart, I’ll give you a poem
How has reading books made me, me? Passionate readers can’t resist the temptation to try their hand at writing. They want to weave magic with their writing; to paint a picture with words and to convey thoughts with their expressions. To give back to the world of writing that has given them so much.
                                                                                              
If I had not read Bharathiyaar, Vairamuthu or Gibran’s inspiring works, I could never have put words to paper. If I didn’t read, I could never have written.                                     Great short stories kindle the creativity in me. I read a simple short story by Kalki about two friends who get separated due to the politics concerning a village election. The story sunk in my heart, and stuck in my vision for so long that I wanted to adapt it and look at that world all for myself.

I wrote a script adapted from the short story with the necessary additions and modifications while also acting in the skit which went on to win the university level skit competitions. Writing is a hard climb, but in the end, the view is great. It gives me a satisfaction like no other. Now, if I didn’t read, where would I go looking for inspiration to strike me?

Tamil books connect to me on a more personal level than English books. Ponniyin Selvan and Sivagamiyin Sabatham are literary gems. But such great pieces of literature remain largely unknown to the Tamil Audience. I have taken it as a personal mission to translate at least 5 Nobel Winning English Books to Tamil and popularize the existing Tamizh works. That is a booksmith’s bound duty.
What goes into good writing? What makes good writing great?
I remember from a childhood magazine Chutti Vikatan, of a slim, chudidhar wearing Maya Teacher with a magical flying carpet who can take us to places beyond our wildest imagination. She took us to Jurassic Age showing dinosaurs, took us to junkyards and took us to free space. The writer’s success remains in making the reader yearn to belong to the world the author creates. The writer’s success lies in painting the picture perfect visual in our minds. I still remember Maya Teacher and still crave for her adventures in the magical carpet.
Great literature classifies as art. Art should disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed.  And art should bring about a transformation.
Everyone remembers ‘The Christmas Carol’. Ebenezer Scrooge is a character that is etched in the permanent memory of all people. His name has now come to mean a nasty, anti-social, mean, miser. Nobody could ever forget how he snapped the idea of celebrating Christmas as “humbug” and how he has the capitalist mentality of not caring for workers and how he shows apathy for the homeless by asking “Are there no workhouses?”. It takes three ghosts in the same night to bring about his miraculous transformation.

On the surface, it may seem like a morality tale modeled on the template of Aesop’s Fables. But the ability of a writer to bring in deeper layers and different levels in his writing is his most supreme achievement. Scrooge stands for the typical capitalist entrepreneur whose obsession with money outweighs the need of community and family values. And people like Scrooge are the exact people who Karl Marx stood against. Marx must have had Scrooge in his mind
when he wrote Das Kapital, and Communist Manifesto while suggesting a social revolution to abolish such meaningless capitalism. That is what a good piece of writing can do: it can create unforgettable characters, it can enable thinkers, and inspire generations. While Marx saw communist revolution as the only solution to the problem, Dickens considers the human aspect, that people are capable of change. The Christmas Carol is a tale of redemption and is proof that the pen is mightier than the sword.    
            Books open up the human mind for possibilities. They prepare the human race for what’s coming. Their imaginations have fueled the drive of scientists, philosophers and thinkers. A simple example would suffice. Alice in Wonderland was written before the advent of  

Quantum mechanics and Relativity. And the newly discovered scientific principles defied common sense. Moving Clocks tick slower; faster objects get lighter; and it was quantum mechanically possible for a particle to be at two places at once. How could scientists accept such logic defying scientific truths? It was Alice who taught them to believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast. And they trusted that the universe is much richer than our everyday experience would have us believe. The scientists came down the rabbit hole to find the wonderland of Relativity and Quantum Physics and accepted the truths even when they didn’t make sense outside the wonderland.
 In a world that is so stressful, so cruel and so boring, books are the sole provider of pity, comfort, happiness and love. Books can work magic. It has the power to transform people’s lives. Books are time-travel devices. I have lived with Raja Raja Chozha, took in the same air as Gandhi, Shook hands with Steve Jobs and even walked amongst fire breathing dragons. If that isn’t magic, I don’t know what else is.

Forever upon this time, there will be a lot of booksmiths. It could be you, it could be me, it could be anyone, and that is the whole point of being a booksmith. While the whole world is busy waging wars, these booksmiths will transcript their tales and make peace with the piece of parchment they read. And they will live happily ever after.


Monday 3 March 2014

G.O.D


Light was rushing in to fill the darkness in his eyes. That was when he realized that he was falling down. His physicist instinct couldn’t resist the temptation to calculate: From a height of 100m, at the rate of 9.8 m/s2 he would hit the ground in exactly 4.517 seconds. As expected, he hit the ground with a loud thud. What he didn’t expect was that he would survive such a deathly fall. It eluded even the physicist’s brain.
John was wet with his own sweat. He felt a deep pain through his spine, but he got over it quickly. To his surprise, he wasn’t wounded by the fall. He stood up and observed the landscape he was in. It was a mountainous terrain but he couldn’t recognize the place. Infact he didn’t seem to remember anything at all. Except for the physics that he studied and cherished so much, he didn’t have a clue about where he was or how he ended up there. It was as if he was put on a brand new world with just his past identity imprinted on him. He looked around him and found a person wearing a blue robe, walking away in the distance. He ran to catch up with him.
“What is this place?” John asked him.
“The village name is Shokam” came the reply.
John was absolutely sure he’d heard the word before but he didn’t know any place that existed with that name.
“I’m Sorry Sir! I’m completely lost. I’m hungry too. Do you know a good place to eat?” John asked.
“I am lost too. Do you see any ants swarming by?” he said.
“Yes. There.” John pointed his finger in the opposite side where ants were swarming.
“Why?” John asked.
“We’ll follow them. I am sure they are better in finding the correct route than me. Let’s go together.”
The blue robed fellow now seemed like a crackpot. How could he be lost in his own village, John wondered. But the sun was falling by, and the night was closing in. John had no intention of questioning him further and decided to accompany him in following the ants. He had no other choice anyway.
They walked 3 miles and the trail finally ended in a tea shop full of people chatting around in tables. John had never been so happy and relieved to see other people. He sat in a round table and the blue robed man sat in the adjacent table joining two others who looked just as strange as him. They were wearing robes of red and green colours and seemed to be in a conversation while enjoying their tea. John took a look at the tea master who was wearing a white robe and ordered a glass of tea to him. He didn’t know why but John felt spooky in that tea shop. It was like déjà vu’. He had the strange feeling that he had been to that tea shop before. He decided to just drink a glass of tea and leave the place as early as possible. But he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation in his adjacent table.
“If you were in a spaceship moving at ninety-nine percent the speed of light, how much faster would another light ray next to you be?” asked the red robed man.
“About one percent of the speed of light, obviously!” replied the blue robed one.
 “But according to Einstein, the light ray would still be faster than your rocket ship by the speed of  light, no matter how fast you are traveling.” said the red robed man.
“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“True, but it is accepted as a fact in the physics world. I don’t understand why” replied the red robed man.
The green robed man remained silent from the start.
John was thrilled. He’d missed such intellectual discussions and never hoped to see these village people indulging in scientific conversation. He wanted to get involved with them and contribute his view before tea arrived. John said “The speed of light is the maximum velocity possible. Its like the outer limit of something, it is a boundary. Compare it with the horizon you observe in the sky. No matter how fast you run towards the horizon, it seems to stay ahead of you by the same distance. You can never reach the horizon, no matter how fast you move. That is the case with light too.”
The blue robed man seemed offended by this. “Yeah but if God wishes, can’t he move faster than the speed of light? This is pure scientific arrogance to put a limit on what God can do!”
This was unprecedented. John didn’t want to get into an argument with strangers, especially with a fellow who follows an ant trail for three miles. So when the master bought him his tea, he started drinking it in silence. The tea tasted funny and burnt the insides of his stomach. He became unconscious before even completing a quarter of the glass. The tea had started to take its toll. His neurons were tickled and his memory was refreshed. He started to remember things.
 Having lost his mother at a young age, John Holmes was raised by his arrogant stepmother. Undernourished and constantly bullied by his stepbrothers, his intellect was his only asset. It landed him in Harvard, his alma mater which made his stepbrothers intensely jealous. It was there that John met his Princess Charming Maya. Born in India, Maya entered Harvard to pursue her Masters in Mathematics. Despite the troubles from his stepmother, they fell in love, truly madly and deeply. It was an inverted Cinderella story. John realized that he could actually love a physical person more than the physical laws that he cherished so much. But now, he had lost her in this strange chaos, and worse, he is lost himself. He had to find her.
He woke up with a start. He didn’t know where he was. But now he has a purpose. He has to find her, and get back home. He understood that drinking that tea somehow brings back his memories and will provide the keys to unlock this mystery. It seemed silly, but he had to drink more tea to know more. He started to walk, determined to find the right route. Suddenly, a person came running from behind and stopped him.
“What is this place?” he asked John.
John replied “The village name is Shokam”.
The stranger asked “I’m Sorry Sir! I’m completely lost. I’m hungry too. Do you know a good place to eat?”
John was flabbergasted. He desperately wanted to find the tea shop and remembered that ants swarm into that tea shop perfectly.  
“I am lost too. Do you see any ants swarming by?” John asked.
“Yes, There. Why?” The stranger pointed his finger in the opposite side where ants were swarming.
John replied “We’ll follow them. I am sure they are better in finding the correct route than me. Let’s go together” and started walking.
 That was when John remembered having the exact conversation already. John looked at himself. He was wearing the blue robe. He was shocked; He didn’t know what had happened. He had become that person he just witnessed; He followed the ant trail and it led him again to the tea shop. He now felt foolish for not trusting the ants before. He realized there are certain things that common sense can’t grasp. Like drinking tea which can bring back your memory and following ants which will lead you to the right path. He now became a genuine believer.
The same people with their colored robes were sitting on the same table drinking a cup of tea and having a conversation. The stranger sat in the nearby table. But the tea master had changed. John ordered a tea and joined their table to see what conversation they were having.
“Science dictates that any theory that cannot be verified by an experiment is not true. Can the presence of God be verified by a scientific experiment?” asked the red robed guy.
The stranger in next table answered, “Of course it cannot be. Nobody has seen god. Nobody has experimentally verified his presence. Your belief system is based on just received wisdom but there is no such thing like that. To err is human, and therefore the only way to understand reality is through skeptical analysis and reducing human error. That is the approach of science”
John got furious. His newfound faith clouded his earlier scientific skepticism. He saw his own reflection in the arrogance of the stranger to discredit a point without rigorous analysis.
John retaliated “Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you skeptically analyze and find out your own way? Why did you blindly follow the ants with me? What was the rationale behind that? You skeptics question everything and the only truth you accept is ‘empirical’ but what about those things that you cannot perceive? Have you seen dark matter? How do you believe it then? There is no room for inspiration or revelation in your world. I mistrust scientists because they mistrust everything else”. The red robe person listened to it and the stranger was about to retaliate. The green robed guy remained silent.
John didn’t want to be there anymore while his faith was being tested and started drinking the tea kept on his table by the tea master. He couldn’t drink more than half the tea cup. While he finished half his cup, he became unconscious.
He remembered having proposed to Maya with the duality principle.” I am Wave. You are Particle. Two manifestations of the same reality. I will become you and you will become me. Will you experiment me?” to which Maya said an instant yes. They shared a wonderful chemistry. They were intellectual equals. They used to solve the daily crosswords and Sudoku in the newspaper together. Maya had a great passion in designing and solving puzzles. So she used to design mazes for John to solve. She would tie the eyes of John and leave him in a maze filled with clues. She will be giving him signs and wait for him to grasp them. She would give him keywords and he needed to unscramble them a bit for clues. She would often say him that she won’t leave him alone in his shokam, meaning sadness. She would say it is just to test his patience. He was tied blind in the maze but she will always be watching over him and guide him.  It was fun. She would want him to solve the puzzle himself and find her and finally embrace her. It wasn’t for anything. They did it because they liked doing it and they were able to do it. She was a terribly real thing in a terribly false world and she was worth the pursuit.
John woke up from his unconsciousness. He started thinking, “Was this another Maze for me to solve? How did she erase my memories? How am I supposed to find her?” and was quite frustrated with her. This was too intricate a maze. He didn’t like being there. He hated her for putting him in this maze. But he started to think the questions on how to solve this puzzle. He started analyzing both fact and faith rationally.
He looked down on him and this time he was the red robed person. He directly went to the tea shop this time. Neither the blue robed person nor the stranger had arrived yet. The green robed person was sitting alone enjoying his tea. The tea master with his white robe had changed this time too. John started to wonder why the others remained the same but the tea master changed in every cycle. He realized that asking the right questions will lead him further into the maze.
“Why is the village called Shokam? How did I get in here, in the first place? Maybe this is an infinite loop. If I were on an infinite loop, would I know that? How am I moving through time? How do I measure time? Clocks don’t measure time; they measure themselves. The objective reference of a clock is another clock. So how do I slow down? Don’t slowing down and slowing up mean the same thing in time? Is my time linear or cyclical like the Kalachakra?”
Being the red robed person, he analyzed everything rationally. He looked at his green robed partner. He smiled silently. He made a toast to him and drank three fourth of his tea glass. He couldn’t drink more and fell unconscious.
Maya was truly a math genius. She was working on a machine called G.O.D. Its working principle was the Poincare Recurrence Theorem. It states that certain systems will, after a sufficiently long but finite time, return to a state very close to the initial state. It is quantum mechanically possible to design and program such a system with discrete eigenstates such that this theorem holds. The machine generates this illusory maze which has both linear and cyclical time simultaneously and as you move forward along the straight line of time, you are also returning to the beginning of time in an ever shrinking spiral. It operates till the Quantum Revival Time when the initial state is reintroduced. The cycle closes when it is destroyed. Generation.Operation.Destruction.G.O.D. This maze is her ultimate test of love. She is wave: Infinity: Poornamadah. He is particle: Zero: Poornamidam. Will you discover her by discovering yourself? That is the question.
He opened his eyes patiently. He didn’t speak a word.
He understood the whole maze. He travelled in a linear time scale, but his surroundings travelled in a shrinking spiral path. Thus in his end, he will be at the surrounding’s start. Every time he drinks tea, the operation is performed and the initial state is restored. He could only drink tea in proportion to his understanding of the truth. And little clues about the maze were revealed in every memory that was recalled. The true challenge in the maze is realizing that it is a maze. After attaining that knowledge, solving it is the final step. John retraced his path. He started as a physicist who thought he had all the answers in science. As he moved forward in the cycle, he became a believer with a blue robe who thought he had all the answers in faith. Then he came closer to the truth by being a rishi with a red robe who analyzed everything rationally. Now he is the Jnani with the Green robe who has discovered the truth in his silence. Now he could attain Maya by drinking the full glass of tea.
 But he had to discover himself first. She would always give him keywords which when unscrambled would show him its true meaning. The village name was SHOKAM. He unscrambled it a bit.
MOKSHA.
Liberation.                                                                                                                                                
He realized that the greatest master in the maze was not the green robed guy who drinks a full glass of tea. It was the tea master who is in the tea shop making tea for others, but never drinking it himself. He was a karmayogi. Anyone who realizes this becomes the master and it keeps changing in every cycle.
After this realization he becomes the new tea master in the white robe and he gets the chance to reach the peak of the mountains in the maze. The straight line bends in search of infinity and returns to its source, to join ends and become a circle which is the legitimate symbol for zero, holding in its heart all the quest of a long voyage.
He reached the peak of it which was about 100m and decided to fall down. Darkness was filling in with an utterance from the voice of silence.
Footnote: This is a hugely metaphorical piece. Maya stands for Paramatma and John stands for Jivatma. It portrays the whole life cycle as a maze and breaking away from the cycle to join with Paramatma is the ultimate goal of life.






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