Chronicles of an Eclectic Life

Friday, May 13, 2016

Ranjit v Katrina

I had to appear
I had to disappear

I had to be powerful
I had to be powerless

I had to gain
I had to lose

I had to suspend
I had to choose

I had to make
I had to break

I had to command
I had to beg

I had to rise
I had to fall

I had to consolidate
I had to dissolve

I had to tell one
I had to tell all

I had to feign goodness
I had to feign badness

I had to lie to reach the truth
I had to scream the truth aloud

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Friday, May 06, 2016

underlying themes in life

Mono no aware - or "a sensitivity to ephemera"

is a Japanese term for the awareness of impermanence, or transience of things, and both a transient gentle sadness (or wistfulness) at their passing as well as a longer, deeper gentle sadness about this state being the reality of life.

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Thursday, April 21, 2016

Morning Montpellier

This morning was the longest and more tiring of any recent ones. It was imagined as a simple traverse, which turned to be a complex one. So, miscalculation, to yield a load of things to tell about the morning. I should've known better, but now I do.

The morning had an early start. This organism was up at 5AM, and active in chaos. Sometimes the self decides to respect the alarm, that roosts at several times in the morning. "You snooze, you lose", is my motto, on 1 of every 5 mornings, like today.

Such mornings are seen as a serendipitous occasion to venture out on a planned route, instead of the usual quickie route (either side). "Planned" = having been thought of or aspired of before but not done this far. The plan for this traverse wasn't new. It had been on my mind since forever. Only today, after years, on a serendipitous morning, with no greater aims, that it happened.

The start, however, didn't happen for almost an hour since being up. It took the sapient self a long while to prepare itself to go out; work itself to get out. And the "plan" wasn't yet under consideration until I was out. So, it happened spontaneously. The same way sleep gets me.

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Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Nature's Kleptomaniacs

Yesterday I came across a mean scene - of the big profiting off the efforts of the small. It was a scene in the insect world, best seen with a magnifying glass. It introduced me to a term I didn't know before - Kleptoparasitism.

A file of ants moved on a (pheromone) trail across the bench ('meen') in the frontyard, some of them carrying food. They didn't realize they were being 'watched'. A gang of house flies, each positioned a coupla feet apart from each other along the ant trail, stood watching, in stillness. When an ant with food got close, the fly would get animated, and start "stalking" the ant. In short hops and skips, it (the fly) would block the ant's march, and repeatedly do so, until the ant got startled, tired, isolated, and wandered off-course. Then it would attempt grabbing the food, jabbing the food with its proboscis, and a short tug-of-war would ensue - the battle of the proboscis (fly) vs the pedipalps (ants).

The tug would span over multiple wounds until one gave up. Mind you that the ants, though small, are very strong, and it is not so easy for the flies. In the four incidents I observed, the split was 50-50. In one incident, where the ant won, the fly tried thrice, but failed.

Some flies are kleptoparasites, this being especially common in the subfamily Miltogramminae of the family Sarcophagidae. Some adult milichiids, for example, visit spider webs where they scavenge on half-eatenstink bugs. Others are associated with robber flies (Asilidae), or Crematogasterants.^[7] Flies in the genus Bengalia (Calliphoridae) steal food and pupae transported by ants and are often found beside their foraging trails.^[8]

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Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Digging out the C.R.A.Z.Y. inside

Lack of restraint is my USP
which generally builds towards a pervasive elevated state
even in the realm of the bed.
I am generally in a dissatisfied state with the day, the world, this life
though I do find myself in a happy state seldom.
I also vaccillate in moods
I move a lot,
my legs, in particular.
After a day out, I feel infested.
And of course, there's the issues with focusing and attention.

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Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Feeding the Frog and Hopping the Dog

The night extended into a morning food delivery job. I served leftover bread (roti/chapati) to the dogs under the Defcol flyover. Then my eyes fell on a park so nice, that I was pulled into its mystical complex.

To put it less cryptic words, a morning run ensued - one after a long break. I was hitting menopause, you see. Now I am purged of urges and can continue my life as a normal 30-year-old guy. NOT. [ignore this para and read on]

The run came about after a previous day of intense sleeping. Some good, came in the way of sleep, and I hope others would agree. If not self-seeking, self-preservation drive was at display, which gives me a sense of inclusion with the human species. The tiring run also gives me a sense of inclusion, in the induced senselessness.

The run was long er than usual - 5 laps. Still a short distance, but less shorter, nonetheless, which is a minor upping over the olden days. Vanity to vanquish the valiant. The post-run interval comprised of a failure to find mulberry trees in the park complex, and a failure to pull to terminate the avian display this guy had put up. Final act of exist comprised of the lizard and the frog. What starts with the dog ends with the frog.

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Science and the Self

From watching a documentary on dude of the day, Bronislaw Malinawski..

For all his attempts at scientific objectivity, Malinowsky was - like everyone of us, - a prisoner of his own time and culture, with all its prejudices.

This perception of Malinowsky came about his M's diaries were released. Indeed, he was a person different from his science, and somewhat conformist to his society, not in forward, but in regressive thought which united him with the prevalent cultural notions (or more specifically, to the negatives contained therein).

That psychological sciences followed, and proved it so, only gives a credence to his psyche as one derived from socio-cultural experiences, which saw it detached from the findings it was making later on in life. The detachment of M is clear in the state of selective focusing on the abject or the profane his psyche often resorted to, despite deducing and reforming from active experience. He could be possessed by the same "demons" as the tribes eschwed, and in a guilt over not being able to exorcise them as effectively, which I believe wasn't helped by a closed "aristrocratic" (which he so aspired to meet) Victorian society.

Now, a read of "A Diary in the Strict Sense of the Term" ensues. It seems available in the public domain.

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Monday, April 11, 2016

Negative Traits in Self

The diagnosis and prognosis of an epidemic called procrastination. I totally endorse - no entrepreneurial leaps, no creative leaps, no professional normality, and much more. Studies and exg has been on hold since 2008.

Also, here are some phrases defining languor, a word a pal used to describe.

a state of the body or mind caused by exhaustion or disease and characterized by a languid feeling: lassitude
listless indolence; dreaminess
dullness, sluggishness; lack of vigor; stagnation

I totally endorse his opinion, too. Love the word. shithiltaa (stillness, in the sense of सुस्ती) in Hindi comes close.

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Sunday, April 03, 2016

Lines to wish a good start to days this summer

The river glideth in a secret tongue
And doth flow deep the summer long.

The slow day's celebration spins
Its line about all scenes, and man
Reflects the length of time

We keep meandering along sensing each flavor - each secret - that the tongue ever tasted.
So far it seems to be going good, in that I have been gliding all this day.

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Need a new Gilgit guy

Fata Morgana, this Sunday, illusory and novel issues abound. As random as anybody could imagine.
And currently on a nervy note. I have been blessed to get a jerk of a flatmate who has eschwed the issue at hand - of his excess consumption of power in the summer months, which will have me either displace myself or pay for my pride which being broke doesn't help. How smart people get in their living, and shun anything else but that - the smarts. I have now tuned into music for immediate relief, and this. He has made me lose respect for the region where he claims to be, and I need somebody else to gladly endorse and brag about.

Here's a me for a few next few moments - ascertaining various damages, running a few conversations, the satisfaction of harm, the human tendency/art of circumnavigation, the need for informally-signed room-mate agreements, Dante Alighieri, and the outdoors. I think the last thought is what broke me out of the regressive and extensive perspectival trails that the recent chaos created.
A landslide, so mortal I feel, so unsettled. Need to disconnect myself, as the song says.

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Funny promises being made on the road

Last night was a different experience. I visited Gurgaon, the satellite town, and the left hand of Delhi, but that's not it.

My bike ran outta fuel. Luck had it happen very close to where I wanted to end up, or it would've ended as a serious chapter of struggle. But another variety of that luck (or other extreme?) had me crowded between a dozen "ladies of the night" - these ladies, out for their business of prostitution, escorted by their autorickshaw (hereafter "ricks") driver-cum-pimp. There were about 4 or 5 of such Ricks plying back-and-forth between the MG Metro Station and the U-turn (a coupla turns ahead).

It was only when I was solicited in the middle of my personal crisis with the bike (Oh how I have been gifted with miscalculation and how Gurgaon has greeted me to remind of that). I was breaking into a sweat, and was starting to enjoy the march forward looking grumbly, when a pretty lady came riding close, in the Ricks, and broke into banter "aaja main dhakka dekar le chalti hoooon" (let me push). Certainly, in this part of the world, we do work that way; Delhi has several auto-limb-powered vehicles plying in off-peak hours - carts being pushed by a leg sticking out from a bike, rickshaws being pushed by a leg sticking out from a bike, bikes being pushed by a leg sticking from on a bike, bikes being pushed by a leg sticking out from a Rick, Ricks being pushed by a leg sticking out from a Rick.

She was a fat woman - the fattest of the three in the Rick, - wearing something golden, and clearly the most confident of the three as well, with a seeming-penchant to find fat wallets through conversations and do the bidding for the skin. "Could I at least ask her to get me petrol," I asked to myself. (Her banter had gone askew in intention, I later reflected. ) Before I could answer the question, they scooted ahead.

Later I walked into them was when three of their Ricks had crowded shortly ahead of where my bike was parked when I walked across to the ATM and got meself some money. When I resumed, it was with walking into a situation where I was jammed in a conversation among the ladies. They were talking about which guys seem to be hanging around tonight. Apparently, they don't make it easy.
Last I came "across" (went past) them, was with a Rick at a deal. It was the same golden girl sticking her head out doing a crass seductive accent. The protocol goes - come about, go slow, approach glammy girls in glammy autos mobile in a shady manner, confirm and find a good deal, fix a deal, and... I didn't get to see the last part. Some mystery I'd rarely bother to pursue.

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re-entry

Complain and arraign me; I got nothing to escape the guilt of inactivity on this platform. I thought that what the world wished someone would tell them has now been said - but, apparently, NOT. I will try to say more, rather absurdly, reflecting and opinionating on things from a personal (sometimes, skewed) perspective, and put it all out there again. The ghost that walks/treks is again at prowl.
If you are reading this, you are probably way off your life goals.

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Wednesday, March 30, 2016

A late elegy TP

A name, showing in tiny font, at the bookshops around Delhi, has always been my curiosity. Being raised in the Tolkien world, I didn't look much beyond, to other popular fantasy. But I do remember the names that made for the non-Tolkien ecosystem. One such, was Terry Pratchett. Today, I find that the name has gone to the grave with its owner; it happened in the recent past (last year, 2015).

Terry Pratchett was often confused with Terry Gilliam in the early days. Being in awe of Monty Python, I would come to a dead stop wherever the names Terry, Cleese, Idle, Palin, Graham would come up.. there were two Terry-s in the team, Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, and with a diverse portfolio of endeavors to their credit, I would give special care to "Terry" wherever I came across it. And hence I ran into Mr. Pratchett sometimes, but only to browse through in no particular regard.

Then I picked up some background on Pratchett's Discworld series of novels. There were 41 of them. Starting 1971 (The Carpet People), they kept coming until 2015 (Shepherd's Crown), the year of his death. More than 85 million books sold in 37 languages, which also made him the best-selling UK author in the 1990s.

His early interests included astronomy.^[19] He collected Brooke Bond tea cards about space, owned a telescope^[20] and wanted to be an astronomer but lacked the necessary mathematical skills.^[19] He developed an interest in reading science fiction

Pratchett was well known for his penchant for wearing large, black fedora hats,^[34] as seen on the inside back covers of most of his books. His style has been described as "more that of urban cowboy than city gent."

Concern for the future of civilisation prompted him to install five kilowatts of photovoltaic cells (for solar energy) at his house.^[36] Having been interested in astronomy since childhood, he had an observatory built in his garden.^[19]^[20] An asteroid (127005 Pratchett) is named after him.

In late 2009, he did make himself a sword, with the help of his friends. He told a Times Higher Educationinterviewer that “At the end of last year I made my own sword. I dug out the iron ore from a field about 10 miles away – I was helped by interested friends. We lugged 80 kilos of iron ore, used clay from the garden and straw to make a kiln, and lit the kiln with wildfire by making it with a bow.' Colin Smythe, his long-term friend and agent, donated some pieces of meteoric iron – ‘thunderbolt iron’ has a special place in magic and we put that in the smelt, and I remember when we sawed the iron apart it looked like silver.

Mar 12, 2015, he breathed his last, the verbose knight.

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Thursday, March 10, 2016

WYSIWIWA argument

What our present government is doing is an argument I'm not getting into. It wastes a lot of time. Just to step out and see, it is a lot easier to explain yourself, and indeed win the argument. This organism stays indoors most of the time these days, but a single visit to the unfolding "vision" of India, that exists and (tries to) function outside is enough to have me push my thoughts out with certitude.

WYSIWIWS - What You See Is What I Wanted To Argue

The night before, almost a coupla hours were spent with O, holding strongly opposing viewpoint of what my favorite state-controlled industry, the Indian Railways, is doing. I want those back. If I had a quality called "vehemency" (strongly protesting wrong perceptions and beliefs), and were less lazy, then those coupla hours could've been better argued with a visit to the Old Delhi Railway Station, where I happened to be last night.

Anything I write about it here would be an understatement. The experience was a crass one. Soon as I stepped out from the Metro Station (that directly connects), there was a large waterbody to skirt around - more like a body of piss than a body of water, in reality. It looked like they still can't get the damn public urinals functioning - earlier people were urinating on the walls and the stench was the first thing to hit one on the way out of the Metro Station, followed by trails of urine to hop over. Now, there is a public urinal in place, whose mismanagement has consolidated all the human excreta and put it for an even more real experience with bad hygiene. Who knew so many diseases were for the taking, besides the promised travel, by our Railways. Travelers converged into a single-person channel that skirted around the water body. Ones in rush, and the valiant ones, splash through the pool, affecting even ones who thought they stayed outta it.

Then, the long queues. Despite anticipating large traveler traffic, - which is to increase in numbers, as the festival of Holi comes close (it falls on 24th of March) - there is no preparation to handle the menace. It already felt a menace. Mismanaged queues, barring the throughfare on one side, and the water body on the other. It adds greatly to the traveler discomfort, and yet authorities turn a blind eye to it.

If you wonder what "Vision" this conveys, and what all has been done in budget spending in the last coupla years, then there is one clear answer to all your questions - the ATMs (automated ticketing machines) that have been setup around the complex. Who doesn't like the BSOD errors on display terminals! Two were seen working. There were a three that said they didn't work - a simple BSOD message. There were five or six more (in the far background), that were just dead, no display, and assured us that they won't ever work. And to fire our imagination about setting up infrastructure for Magleav trains... either shows how lying is at work, or how our existing infrastructre (that I'm sure won't be taken out of service anytime soon) will suffer stagnation and people will come to eschew train travel.

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Tuesday, March 08, 2016

Unoriginality is annoying

A coupla days back, it was a pleasant surprise to read about an innovative undertaking by the environmental science students at Delhi University - to monitor bird sounds and find out whether the birdsong has changed due to rising pollution in the city. Conjecture is that due to the damping effect of pollution, the birdsong cannot travel far, hence the birds now sing at a higher frequency than usual.
DU to study how pollution affects birds’ sound

Today, to some shock, it turns out to be an existing idea. The original research is covered well in an article here - too well covered, I guess.
Present annoyance comes from the death of the excitement caused by considering it an original idea. I dunno what scholars have, if not for things they would like to conceptualize and do.

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Friday, March 04, 2016

spring blosooms

This time last week - somewhere in the lap of abundance. The onset of spring is so special, especially if one can make it to the hills, where one can closely see life start afresh; though it won't complete our understanding, it adds much to it.

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Wednesday, March 02, 2016

war and lust

Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury expounds the following

The condition of man... is a condition of war of everyone against everyone.

Curiosity is the lust of the mind.

Just google "hobbes quotes" and more of his viewpoints put in sensational words come up.

I am two of his state of minds. For every line penned, he would be in a unique state altogether. Calling to wage wars in the middle of the lustful pursuits of the mental and jobless realm. My flatmate doesn't help it either - his arrival set an avalanche that buried my day's thoughts under rubble. That rubble I pick and throw here on the blog. Survival skills coming to the test, which is fine with me.

Knolling has occupied much of the day. The things on the bed, the ones strewn on my laptop and pen drives, the ones on the table, the ones in my head, the path of gainfully employed existence - and in that same order of success (or completion).

Also, a conversation set off an avalanche shortly before flatmate showed up, but it was akin to a gold vein shooting up and burying what would be just stones, or flat formless thoughts from the day, to leave me with a lot of nuggets to pick up from around. I have been seeking a career as a gold prospector, so the imagery might be an inspired one, but the result of that conversation was positive and took me on a different chain of thought altogether.

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Last week with the onset of Spring season in Nainital

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Hanging midway into the week

We are into Wednesday. This organism is still stuck on his Monday plans. What a better way than announce a call to action, for the week to start. What a better way to resign to the futility of toughts.

The first thing I'd imagined about this week the last week was returning to Delhi. That was done! Rest of the imaginations didn't turn into factual realities.

Recollecting yesterday, sleep comes to mind. Recollecting the day before, sleeplessness comes to mind. The purpose for the starting days of the week were swapped, in terms of sleep, and consequentially negated, in terms of purpose.

Recollections run old, and the old days also seem resurgent, but not in terms of any purpose. The prospects of a purpose (and gold) prosper, in the meantime. Still hanging there.

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Gold-digger

Just a coupla days back, Vedanta won India's first gold mine auction - that of the Baghmara mine in Chattisgarh. It is estimated to give a total yield of 2700kg. Presently, India consumes about 900-1000 tonnes of gold per annum. It produces 15 tonnes of those, and procures the remaining 885-985 tonnes. Being a gold-crazy nation, and yet locally mining for 1.5% of its total needs, our priorities seem haywire. The infamous bureaucratic red tape has also shown its magic here, by delay of licenses; and corruption also reared its head here, in the way of the recent mining scams coming to light.

Coincidentally, today, I started into looking into a career as a gold prospector. Finding gold in the wild was and is still an adventure. The cool thing is that gold is a siderophile (ie tends to bond with metallic iron) and a chalcogen (occuring in an ore like copper), so it is found commonly, albeit in trace amounts. The funny thing is, that it takes little to bootstrap oneself into finding gold. Knowledge, skill, technology, time, these four ingredients are what make it work. Even with technology missing, and time short, the former two ingredients can go a long way.

PS: Gold has the chemical symbol Au, which is Latin for Aurum, which refers to the yellow of the dawn

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