Friday 30 December 2011

My Life?


It is my another December in IIT Madras. As always, it is very cold. Since yesterday it has been raining heavily. They say a cyclone is approaching the eastern cost of India. Nature seems to be very violent. Looking at the heavy rain, I don't even feel like going for lunch this afternoon. The very idea of entering into rain and getting wet horrifies me. The days when I used to wait for rain just to get wet seem never existed. What an ironical fact! We don't believe in our own past. Do we believe in our present or, more importantly, future? Nihilism is an ideology of frustration. But my nihilism had long ago reached an extend where it started feeling frustrated of itself. Yet coming back to the question of believing in the past, present and future, I am tempted to be nihilistic in the sense that I see nothing to believe in. We have lost all the lofty ideals to believe in. The industrial revolution and, later, the information revolution have taken all the ideals away from us. Look at the present. Too much of exposure. Too much of visibility. Too much of information. What is the result? We are unable to distinguish between the important and the trivial. I, being a Signal Processing engineer, am tempted to say that we are unable to distinguish signal from noise.

These days, everything seems to be achievable. Happiness has become a product that anyone can buy from the market. Yet no one achieves anything and nobody seems to be happy. Happiness is portrayed as an individual affair. Probably that is why the fight to assert oneself superior to others is becoming more and more prominent. In this way, one vigorously attaches happiness with ones ego, the self-image. The way Palakkal felt happy while walking in a garden on a delightful morning or just by looking at the sky seems to be remote to the contemporary individual. Perhaps, the need "to produce", not "to be creative" but "to produce", prevents us from enjoying such ancient happiness. Consider any walk of life. The urge is "to perform ones duties"; it is not "to be creative" or "approach life with reason and logic". Perform your duties mindlessly. Don't look at the world with a broader perspective like a human being. Be an individual and live in your narrow hell but performing your duties. To succeed in your work is to strive for your happiness. The world may go into chaos, but you will be revered for your uncompromising dedication to your work. And having performed your duties, just relax yourself with amusements. What a great ideal that the present day individuals hold onto! No one realises the emptiness of it. Perhaps everyone realises it, but still not able to admit! I say so because, many a time, I feel that people are just actors. They just play their roles thinking that they are merely acting in a drama. Yet their "acting" becomes their "action" which ultimately defines their lives. Are we trying to fool ourselves? Or, are we merely powerless to break free from this drama? And how are we acting in this drama? By unconsciously yielding to the urges I described above!

I am on the verge of asking a bizarre question. Is my life not my life?

Sandeep
Dec 29, 2011.

Thursday 29 December 2011

Facing Uncertainties


That was stupid -- my last post in this blog. Not the content, but the way I wrote it! Later, even I could not follow my last post. Especially, the first paragraph is too difficult to follow. Looking back, I remember the urge I experienced to make that post difficult to read. I had the feeling, still I possess this feeling, that online writings like blogs are useless. They are worthless. They serve no particular purpose. Some argue that internet gives us the real democratic experience and help us show the power of the powerless and the downtrodden. But, unfortunately, I am increasingly feeling that this is untrue. Internet publishing helps us share our feeling. But whether it will serve humanity to direct itself towards some goal, political or economic or anything like that, is doubtful. The flow of information makes us more confused and unfocused. The previous blog manifested this feeling I was experiencing those days. Those feelings are only strengthened now. But I continue writing despite knowing its futility. And I write for no reason and no end. This may sound pessimistic, but right now this is what I feel.

In the last post, my main point was how an issue (Mullapperiyar dam controversy) was about to divide the people of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. One month is gone after I wrote that post. Now, we see those peoples divided! Violence broke out between the peoples and, admittedly, was more intense on the Tamil Nadu side than on the other side. We saw how a small group of people exploited the opportunity for gaining narrow political ends. Moreover, the issue remains unsolved.

The Mullapperiyar dam issue is actually an engineering problem, which has but now become a social problem (I mean people's problem). It is taken to a state where engineers alone cannot solve it amicably. The question of whether the dam will collapse and, if yes, under what conditions, does not have any definite answer. Any answer will finally boil down to probability and reliability. The aim of science and engineering should be to reduce the probability of disaster as small as possible, thereby making the reliability of the construction as large as possible. How reliable is the dam is therefore can be answered only by engineers in statistical terms. The problem becomes social because people, the laymen, are unable to understand and accept the statistical promises. Such problems cannot be only resolved by engineers. The role of powerful statesmen with long term vision becomes important and apparent at this s juncture. It is doubtful whether we still have such leaders. This doubt arises by observing the way the issue is being approached by our leaders.

Related is the issue of Koodamkulam nuclear power plant. Is it safe? Is nuclear energy safe for humanity? Even scientists are divided on this issue. So are the politicians. The answer again boils down to be a statistical one. Again, the probability of failure of the measures taken by the scientists and engineers to make the power plant safe against natural calamities like earthquake, tsunamis and cyclones dictates the answer. If our calculation fails? This may be an emotional question. Perhaps, I am just being over cautious. But am I not over cautious about the very existence of the human race? Am I not justifiable on this ground in asking this question?

Perhaps, we have no answers. Perhaps, there is no way to arrive at a definite answer. Perhaps, uncertainty rules everywhere. But we must find some resolution to face such uncertainties, and our resolution must be based on facts and reason. That is all I have to say.

Regarding violence: a few perverts can cause a large violence, but restoration of peace would need efforts of large number of lofty minds.

Some say that if Kerala and Tamil Nadu were two countries, a war would have broken out by this time. This argument leads me to a more terrible thought: China is building a dam in Brahmaputra, which is supposed to finish by the year 2015. Will they divert water from Brahmaputra to China? What would be the outcome? Are we facing a war?

P.S.: I am not able to sleep calmly these days!

Sandeep
Dec 29, 2011.

Wednesday 30 November 2011

The Number of Sand Grains in Calicut Beach, or Writing in Water

So much of reading and so less of writing. This is bad. Even though reading gives me a lot of strength, it is writing that stabilizes the strength thus acquired. While reading makes me more confused, writing gives me clarity. From an information theoretic perspective, reading causes an increase in entropy, while writing helps me reduce the entropy by efficiently decoding, or, equivalently, understanding, or grasping, or putting in the right light, the information ("information" in the sense used in "information technology" not in "information theory"; instead, one could almost always, i.e., with negligibly small probability of being misunderstood, use the word "noise") that I have gathered through reading. (Remember, the more the entropy, the more is the disorder, or uncertainty, or confusion.) That is why I decided to write this post. It came as an inner urge, almost similar to the one human beings experience prior to defecation. The urge was to write a serious post after a long  while. (In our most golden -- the price of gold is at the record peak in history-- times, a blog post is serious if it required little effort to write and would require onerous effort to read. My goal is, honestly, such a post.)  However, I had to struggle to fix a topic. For me, topics are plenty, because the unwritten words (which are written in the mind) substantially exceed in trillions and trillions of bytes (1 byte = 8 bits, 1 bit = 1 binary digit, and binary digits are nothing and everything, or, in other words, none and one) compared to the written words. Then I fixed a contemporary topic, which I assign the reader to decipher from below, after reading the post entirely, and then doing some tantric deconstruction (to do this one has to be well versed in tantras and mantras and pujas and hypocrisy). If the reader does not want such unnecessary burdens or feels not qualified to do this, I urge not to read this post. I am a ruthless writer, and on top of that I am not going to call you "the respected reader" or "the most diligent reader" or any of that shit. I expect the reader to be as conceited and therefore as stupid -- and vice versa -- as I am.

Breaking from the conventions of the previous posts in this blog, I would like to dedicate this post to Jean Paul Sartre, who taught me how to "write", which I, being unscrupulous, have managed not to realize in practice.

The issue of Mullapperiyar dam is now raging at its peak between Kerala and Tamil Nadu. This may be attributed to the facts that (1) it is rainy season in Kerala and hence the dam is inundated with water, (2) there has been a few earth quakes in the past few months in the areas surrounding the dam, (3) a junk movie "Dam 999" has been released in India, which, despite having got the permission for screening from the censor board of India, has been banned in Tamil Nadu by its Government, reasoning that it would mislead and hurt the sentiments of the people, (4) and the Malayalam television media has taken up the issue with paramount importance. Although the panic created by the media among the people by making them believe that the dam will collapse today or tomorrow or even in the next nano-second may sound illogical enough to be fake, the threat posed by the weakness of the dam is truly of paramount importance. While the lease agreement for the dam between Kerala and Tamil Nadu is actually for nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine (999) years, it is clear that a dam will not stay that long. While constructing a new dam as an immediate precaution to save the people from its possible yet unpredictable collapse seems to be a solution, the bitter fact that the new dam will soon (in another hundred years?) turn out to be a similar threat to the same people, or precisely their future generation, is a paradox that has been pointed out by some thinking fanatics living in isolated islands.

You might have noticed that I have written the previous paragraph in the most insipid manner, keeping myself distant from the issue, and adopting a very neutral, diplomatic tone. You must understand that this is not because I am a Malayali who is living in Tamil Nadu, so that I have to satisfy both my Tamil friends and Malayali friends thereby saving myself from the otherwise imminent peril. Having dedicated this post to Sartre, will my super-ego ever spare me from the guilt generated by doing so? Though I conceal my fear in my heart, the fact is that I am more interested in something else.

Yes, more interestingly, though the slogan "water for Tamil Nadu, safety for Kerala" formulated by the Kerala Government sounds post-modern and liberal enough, and sounds to be in terms with the modern thoughts and moral sense, however contemptuous and worthless this sense may be, the Tamil Nadu Government's and political parties' adamant rejection of the plea for co-operation to construct a new dam by the Kerala Government gives us some glimpses to the nature of (modern) India. Particularly, the fact remains that India has not yet become an integral country, but stays divided by language, culture, caste, religion, location, and other identities. The Mullapperiyar issue exemplifies the failure of a group of people (or their leaders) to understand the need of another group of people living in the neighbourhood in the same country, only differing in language and culture. Here, being Tamil or Malayali is not the issue. The fact that I, the author of this post, am a Malayali is also not a very important issue (notwithstanding that I have mentally broken free from such an narrow identity). The true issue is that this kind of division exists not only between Tamils and Malayali, but between Tamils and Kannadigas, Kannadigas and Marathis, Kannadigas and Malayalis, Marathis and Hindi-speaking people, Biharis and Bengalis, Kashmiris and other Indians, and so on and so on. Such division can be seen even between people living in the same state, speaking the same language (e.g. South Kerala and North Kerala). A serious and active issue Similar to the Mullapperiyar is the demand for the division of Andra Pradhesh into two, which, again, reflects the mistrust and jealousy between peoples living in different geographical locations within a single state, speaking the same language notwithstanding some colloquial vernacular differences. 

The solution to this most important problem India as an integral nation has been facing can be achieved, however, not by creating an all encompassing Indian identity, for no identity can be truly all encompassing, but, I believe, by educating the people in values concerning freedom and liberty, both social and individual, thereby helping them to mature to a mental state in which they can live peacefully with others. In a country, from where a painter, whether he is great or not, had to flee for using his freedom of expression in his painting; in a country, where a study on different versions of Ramayana told in different places and countries is removed from the academic syllabus for religious reasons; in a country, where a movie or book is banned whenever it is against some narrow ideology held by a group; in a country, err... I'm bored to continue giving these examples, believe me; by the way, what is the number of sand grains in Calicut beach? 

All I mean to say is that in this country, such a solution will not succeed -- I say this with boundless optimism (ideologically, I must have used "pessimism", but, unfortunately, pessimism is not the ideology I have sided with). This country needs a gang-bang change, not the pseudo-moral revolution preached by Anna Hazare and people like him, but a truly violent revolution. Wait a minute, do not misunderstand me here. I used the term violent in the same sense used by Slavoj Zizek when he said almost like this: "Hitler was not violent enough; Gandhi was more violent than Hitler [in challenging the basic structure of the prevailing [British] system]" (emphases might have been added, I'm not sure).

Tail piece: Perhaps the Mullapperiyar issue also shows us how a majority of Indian people are deeply influenced and ideologically possessed by a minority of leaders, politicians and institutions.

S. Palakkal,
Nov 30, 2011,
Chennai.

Friday 18 November 2011

Analyze this!

Butter Rotti and luscious Chikken Tikka Masala at Zaitoon, the night cafe in the campus. Reading Age of Reason and Wavelet Tour of signal Processing interchangeably till 4'O clock in the morning. Read the novel for some time and change over to Wavelets for some time; come back to the novel -- my contemporary exercise! At 4 A.M., in the brahma-muhurtham, when all the Aarsha Bharathiya Indians would wake up, I went to sleep.

A man who is half-human and half-machine. He is fighting -- for justice or injustice was not very clear. His forefinger in the right arm is a gun with which he can kill anyone standing kilometers apart. He kills at least two people, both of whom are very important in the country, maybe a minister or an official or so. He executes these killings from distance using his gun in the arm. Who is the killer? Police starts investigation. This is not a Malayalam movie. The police officers are as good as the hero (or villain?). And there are more than one police officers. Probably three. They investigate thoroughly. They follow the leads very intelligently. The best police officer in Malayalam movies is belittled by their performance. But our hero is no full-human. He leaves no trace to himself in any crime scene. In fact, he meets the police officers. They don't even suspect him. The story goes on. Gun fights, shoot-outs, cars collide, everything is in fire. The country goes to hell. They can't catch a single man! There was an important meeting between the officials and politicians and police officers. The hero is present. All the police officers are present. They discuss and have no clue. The hero is about to leave for some "operation". One of the police officers starts talking something. He logically deduces a few things. The hero gets perplexed. In a very tense moment, with the formidable skills of Sherlock Holmes, the police officer concludes -- "so, the culprit should be none other than you", pointing his forefinger to the hero. Hero tries to escape. All the people surrounds him and tries to catch. The hero takes a prism and the prism projects the immediate future on the wall. In that projection, we can see police defeating the hero and beating him all over. The hero is cut into two pieces, but being half-machine is not dead yet. But it is clear that the hero fails in his mission! Being the future of the hero known, which in turn is not very prosperous, what is the point of resuming to tell this story?

Precisely at this moment, I woke up. It was 1:30 P.M.  Hunger was torturing me from inside and outside. Yet, I spent some more time savouring the movie my inner-space kindly showed me during my sleep, thereby keeping me not bored throughout my sleep. What a beautiful unconscious mind I have! Freud will surely fail if he analyzes me.

Perhaps, Zizek will say: "Wait a minute! Here is an example of a man whose fantasy space has been completely robbed by the Hollywood! This is the paramount example of the influence of today's cinema on modern human lives. The sense of reality of this man has been completely taken over by his fantasy world. His unconscious mind, which should consist of his unfulfilled desires, now contains only fantasies, cinematic fantasies. This is why I said our desires are not spontaneous: one has to be taught to desire. And cinema teaches one to desire."

Thursday 17 November 2011

Today, I Lived My Life

Till the age of thirty, a man is idealistic. He tries to discover the best idealistic way of living; or simply, he tries to find out the best way of living. By the age of thirty, he realizes the futility of his idealism and recognizes his failure. Thereafter, he lives a failed life holding himself in self-contempt. This is how a man fails to lead a normal life before and after thirty!

Sunday 13 November 2011

Out, Into the World

After days of seclusion,
Today I saw the bright, sunny world.
It looked ephemeral, with no purpose.
But, why the hell is it so beautiful?

-Sandeep
Nov 13, 2011

Tuesday 4 October 2011

The World Outside Me -- A Poem


The world exists without me, outside me.
I have only an interpretation of the world.
My interpretation of the world:
My happiness! And my curse!

I am prey to my interpretations.
I can't stop them, nor can I be free of them.
I am defined by my interpretations.
And I depend on them.

My interpretations form my feelings.
They form my knowledge.
They guide my soul.
I have no life without them.

My interpretations are not independent of the world,
Though the world is independent and outside me.
The world will carry on without me,
Without caring for my interpretations.

Can I blame myself, or the world,
That I feel the world is too indifferent to me?
Perhaps this is the irony of life,
The worst of all human paradigms!

--Sandeep Palakkal
April 7, 2011.
On a train journey from Chennai to Calicut

Friday 30 September 2011

Palakkal Saga: Meeting with Lonely Wanderer


Yesterday, I was sitting in the lab, looking at the computer monitor, feeling all my frustrations in life. Since it was evening, all my colleages had left, and I was alone. I thought of learning some modern useages in Malayalam. So, I opened youtube and started listening to Idea Star Singer videos, where a lady having a sack full of Ph.D.s taught what I described earlier. While I was taking some important notes from the videos, I heard someone opening the door. Immeidately I paused the video. Everyone thinks I am a devoted researcher. I did not want others know that I used to watch youtube in the lab. What do they know about the nobility of my intentions? That of earning more advanced knowledge in ones own mother tongue?

I looked at the door and found... who? Mr. Palakkal himself! He looked at me with anger and asked, "So, you are The Lonely Wanderer Sandeep Palakkal?"

I was frozen for a moment hearing the strength of that voice. Recovering from the shock, I admitted that I was that wreatched soul and what was sitting frozen there was my worldly body.

A short moment! Palakkal accosted me in rage, with lightning speed. I lost all my courage and self-esteem at that moment. I even pissed a little in my underwear.

"How dare you defame me by writing things about me in your pitiful blog, you dirty punk?," he asked grabbing my collars. "And, your writings? How preposterous, you big-mouth-and-tiny-brain?"

So, that was the reason of his visit: to question me, to stop me. Come on, Sandeep, don't be afraid. You have the freedom of speech in this country.

I said I was trying to convey some idea through my stories. It was just a story and I did not mean to defame him. I was so scared that I spoke too much which I cannot recollect now.

"If you wanted to convey some stupid idea, then why tell lies?" he asked angrily.

I boldly replied, "Art is a lie that make us realize truth [1]. And my art was literature."

Palakkal laughed out loudly. "You call your stupid writings literature? You call that Art?" he asked me with a poking look in his eyes. I saw his despise for me in his eyes. I felt insulted but was scared to respond.

"I warn you. Stop writing blogs by today and withdraw all your writings. Otherwise, I will hold you by your feet and kill you by hitting your head on this wall."

Intimidation! That too, towards a world famous blogger, a leftist, an atheist, and above all a signal processing engineer! This cannot be tolerated. He does not know that I am a Captain of the Devils in the International Legion of Signal Processing Devils! My friends, I conjured up all my energy and said, "NO. IMPOSSIBLE. YOU DO WHAT YOU CAN." (I put these words in capital to let my readers know how loudly I uttered them and how much force I exerted myself.)

The Palakkal looked at me, straight into my eyes. I sensed a glimpse of shining in his eyes. He released my collar and began to walk away, saying "so be it".

Why did he release me? Why did he not kill me? I was wondering. I felt neglected. Perhaps, Palakkal thought I was so weak to handle and so insignificant to waste his time upon. Once again, I felt insulted very deeply. I felt a wound on my heart and blood coming out of it. I quickly crossed Mr. Palakkal and stood in his way, challenging him. "Why the hell don't you do anything? Daren't you kill me? You filthy Palakkal. Do you know, only I can make you a hero. You should be happy for that."

I saw rage in Palakkal's eyes. They became blood red. I knew he was going to attack me. He who attack first is the winner [2]. So, I gave him a punch on his face. He came forward, pulled my head and kept it under his left shoulder. Then I felt his left knee on my solar plexus, hiting me just once but with tremendous force. When he released my head, I fell down like a tree on the floor. I was unconscious. Yet I could hear Palakkal's footsteps, leaving me alone in the room. I  heard him feebly,

"Poor fella! He did not know who he was fucking with" [3].

[1] Pablo Picasso.
[2] Anonymous
[3] Riddick, Pitch Black

Thursday 29 September 2011

Not a poet -- A Poem

To be a poet
Is to be a dreamer.
To be a dreamer
Is to fail in life.

I became a dreamer.
And I failed in life.
But, alas!
I became no poet.

But I died, I died.
To be no poet
Is to die.
Yes, I died. I died.


Chennai,
Sep 29, 2011.

Wednesday 28 September 2011

Palakkal Saga: Wrong

Diarrhoea was cured by nature. Palakkal only drunk porridge made out of rice, by adding more salt than necessary in it. After four days on the bed, he not only felt cured. He felt he was replete with more fresher energy. He felt his inner potential increased by many folds. That is Palakkal's greatest joy on earth: to feel the inner strength.

That evening, Palakkal decided to go out, to feel the sun, though an evening sun with less vigour. The darkness of the room had started to become nauseating. Again, he went to the garden. Gardens are his favourites. Sitting surrounded by trees gave him enough opportunities to feel his solitude. Solitude, not loneliness, for Palakkal was always lonely, even if he walked with an ocean of people. And the ocean always tried to expel him, because it felt that he did not belong there.

When Palakkal reached the garden, there a great saint was giving lecture to his disciples. Palakkal went and sat in a corner, farthest from the saint and the disciples to avoid contamination as much as possible. He lay on the grass with his face up. As he took breath, he felt his youthfulness and inner strength. This may be what they call the joy of existence! Palakkal grew sceptic if one could feel the same joy as one grows older and older. Do old people feel inner strength? Potential?

The sky was blue and clouds were bright white. He saw an eagle flying in great heights. It looked too small -- more like a point than an eagle. He felt his heart pounding with unknown joy; butterflies fluttering inside his belly; and tickling on his soles. That was a rarest of rarest, serenest of serenest, beautifullest of beautifullest moments. He was ready to die at that very moment. But death was still a distant friend, for he was full of vigour of youth.

When the dusk had already fallen, when the disciples had all left, the saint came near Palakkal, and assuming his full composure he said,

"Palakkal, your acts are wrong and cruel. Especially what you have done in the hospital! You are too terrible a human being, with too sick a mind. All your actions are wrong, wrong and wrong."

Palakkal rose from the ground. After giving a big yawn, he said,

"He who considers more deeply knows that, whatever his acts and judgements may be, he is always wrong [1]."

Then he started walking, leaving the saint alone.

Belittled by Palakkal's wisdom, the saint stood there ashamed. He wondered when he would become as wise as Palakkal! Then, maybe to soon become so, he decided to control his breath and meditate in the garden till midnight.

[1] F. Nietzsche, Human all too human.

Tuesday 27 September 2011

Palakkal Saga: Diarrhoea


Palakkal got diarrhoea. What? How is that possible? How can a person with immeasurable power get sick? No questions allowed in Palakkal Saga. For it consists of the stories of tyrannies. For tyranny does not like to be questioned.

It was early morning. Palakkal was waiting for the sun to emerge in the east so that he can rush to the doctor. Yes, he rushed. He ran to the doctor hitting everyone came across his way. Whether that morning had birds singing, he did not care! He rushed. For he had no time. From his house, where there were two toilets, he had to reach the hospital, where there will possibly be a toilet. On the way, he may not find a public toilet at all. 'I am in India,' he remembered.

As soon as he reached the hospital, first he finished off what was now imminent. After returning from the toilet, he went right to the reception and informed the nurse that he immediately wanted to meet the doctor.

The nurse gave him a disdainful look and said in an inattentive voice, "you have to wait till the receptionist come and enrol your name in the register".

"Sorry sister, I cannot wait. It is urgent."

"You should wait," nurse said rudely.

"I said I am in emergency, sister."

"So what? What should I do? Emergency? You're not dying, are you? Only if I can confirm that you are going to die soon, I will call it an emergency." She shouted at him.

So the nurse does not appreciate the situation. All she cares about is the rules of the institution. Palakkal got immensely angry. In his inner mind he thought, 'We Indians!'

The true self of Palakkal arose. His eyes became blood red. Straightaway, he strutted towards the doctor's room. When the nurse tried to stop him, he took her in one hand and pasted her spread-eagled on the ceiling. Stuck on the ceiling, she helplessly looked at Palakkal walking towards the doctor's room.

Palakkal reached the doctor's room, and with one kick he broke the door into seventy-eight and a half pieces. The doctor raised her eyes from a thick book she was studying and gave him a dead look. Palakkal was unsurprised by the doctor's stoicism. He knew where he was.

The doctor listened to him patiently. Asked some questions which Palakkal thought pointless but to which he gave clear answers like a school boy. Satisfied, the doctor scribbled the names of four tablets on a piece of tissue paper and gave it to Palakkal. The doctor knew nothing of Palakkal. (à´ªാലക്à´•à´²ാà´°ാ à´®ോà´¨്‍?) He asked what was the first medicine for. She said it was just vitamin tablets. The second one? Some ointment to apply on his belly. Third one? For digestion. And the fourth one for fever, which he should take if he has. Palakkal got frustrated. He asked, "Where the hell is the medicine for diarrhoea, my condition?"

The doctor grew confused. She looked at what she had written. "Where the hell is the medicine?" She asked, perhaps to herself. The doctor scratched the back of her head. One shelf-full of degree certificates she had kept at her home seemed meaningless for her at that moment. She took a small piece of dandruff from her hair and ate it. 

Suddenly, her eyes started to glow. She wrote one more line on the paper and gave it to Palakkal.

"Here it is," she said proudly.

"What is this fifth tablet for?" Palakkal asked.

"Take it. Everything will stop. You will not go to toilet for seven days!" She said showing her wisdom.

Palakkal got exasperated. He realized he had come there in vain. He grabbed her by feet and killed her at once by breaking her head on the table. Then he ran into the toilet to fulfil the ancient urge, which now was imminent.

Palakkal Saga: Conversion of a lady with single mind


The garden was beautiful. Unlike India, it was full of trees and birds. Palakkal had come for a morning walk. The sun had only risen. Feeling the freshness of the morning breeze, he walked. On the stone chair, there sat a woman, still, shining with divine inspiration and energy, though she looked absorbed and weak.

"What makes you so happy this morning?" Palakkal asked.

Waking from her dream, she replied with pleasure, "All my life, I am devoted to my selfless work. My only pleasure is to do my work. My work is my devotion and its fruits are my happiness. Today, I am happy about how single-minded I am in pursuing my passion!."

Palakkal grabbed her by her hands and forced her to the woods. Pressing her to the ground, he raped her.

As he was leaving, he said, "Be known, you lady, that your devotion to your passion is not everything. It is only a narrow fetishism that you keep to justify your unworthy existence. Sexual pleasure I have just given you is one example that there are more things in heaven and earth [1] that humans can crave for. So open your eyes and walk your life with liveliness".

Raising from the ground, she replied in gratitude, "Thanks for enlightening me with your wisdom, master. I've never known the meaning of life as broadly as I know now!"

Smiling and blessing her, Palakkal walked away, to continue feeling the freshness of the morning.

[1] W. Shakespear, Hamlet.

Cultural implications of the Star Wars


I watched Star Wars recently. A series of six nice movies! I loved watching them and enjoyed very well. The settings, technical perfection, direction, editing, background score and cinematography were all excellent. It was two weeks back that I heard of the discovery by NASA of a planet with two suns (Kepler-16b) 200 light years away from earth, in a remote galaxy in the news. The news paper also mentioned with enthusiasm the similarity of this planet to Tatooine, a planet with two suns in the Star Wars series. How beautiful would be the sun set in that planet! It was this thought that sparked my desire to watch Star Wars!

The sunset in Tatooine!
However, despite my fascinations about the movie, I have some immeidate, arguably cynic thoughts on these movies. Since the movies are very popular, I note them down below. Perhaps, these are some of the reasons behind the popularity of the movie?

1. Anakin Skywalker, his son Luke Skywalker and daughter Lea Skywalker are somehow the chosen ones. Their blood has some special qualities compared to "normal" humans, and they have strong presence of the [cosmic] forces in their body. Even without training, the Luke skywalker is able to excel in the so called Jedi fighting arts, which otherwise a normal human takes long time and effort to learn. The life of the father skywalker proves that if the chosen one becomes evil, he is the most evil! So there is a division: chosen ones with special abilities and normal ones. Isn't this pure racism? Even more, isn't the concept of chosen ones and the qualities of their blood quite similar to Hitler's Aryan supremacy? (Two years back I had gone for watching a classical dance of a girl in Chennai. In the introduction her teacher, who herself is a prominent dancer, in the presence of a well-known classical singer from south India claimed that, "classical arts are not for everyone, but one should have it in the genes!". She added that her student had it in her genes through her father and family. Hearing the teacher's praise for her student, everyone in the audience except I applauded with cheer. I felt NAUSEA, extreme nausea. But this is India. Unlike Hollywood, we are third world. I'm afraid my friends in Infosys will approach bounty killers to kill me if I call India third world.)

2. The settings in the Tatooine planet is very similar to Arabian towns, while in Coruscant, where the Jedi lives, the settings are similar to a Western country (United States?). (Interestingly, Tatooine was set in Tunisia, the North-African country encompassing Sahara desert.) Tatooine has no plants and trees but only deserts. The natural inhabitants of this planet are ruthless, cunning, fat and hedonistic. Anarchy is the rule and the slavery prevails. Doesn't this indicate the unconscious reflection of the Western perspective of the Arabian countries and Islam?
Town in Tatooine

3. Only two or three blacks are in the film's caste. Samuel Jackson is the only black in the film's leading characters. When they are called humans, why no black and no Asians? On the other hand, many non-human characters, who are inhabitants of various planets, speak English with Russian or Spanish or other accents (I'm not good at recognizing them all). Why this irony? What is the implication? Again racism?

Samuel Jackson as Jedi  Mace Windu
4. Anakin Skywalker is "converted" from the side of the good to the side of the evil by the villain Sith, and becomes the famous Darth Vader. Finally, he is redeemed. Does this at least indirectly frown upon religious conversions?

5. Natalie Portman's character,  Amidala, the Queen of the planet Naboo, always say "democracy should be protected", "people are suffering" and "people must be saved". In spite of this, the movie never portrays the so called people or their sufferings. Instead, the order of the world is restored by a minority of "heroes". Doesn't this imply the role of the entire human society is less important compared to the "heroes"?
Natalie Portman as Queen Amidala

6. Queen Amidala was a strong woman and used to fight in the battles herself despite being a Queen (A Queen who tries to protect democracy? Don't ask me this ironic question. In Malayalam, we have an old saying: "no questions possible in a story" -- maybe, the remnant of the old feudal times or so when no questions were allowed in the society. But we are in modern times, and we should ask questions even in the stories! Don't we?). This continued till her marriage only. After her marriage, she is just a house wife and is not involved in politics or any other serious acts. She lives as a shadow of her husband -- Ankin Skywalker. Doesn't this say that the role of a good woman in the society is to be a good house wife?

7. The Luke Skywalker is portrayed as "the last hope" of the society by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda, two Jedis themselves. But all the Luke Skywalker cares about till the end is not the society or social order but his friends. How can such a selfish person be "the only hope" of a society? Doesn't this imply some kind of racism or something? I smell "something"; only I can't understand it. What is it?

8. When any battle is about to begin, the "heros" say things like "now the fun begins" etc. Sometimes, some characters almost indicate that the only solution is war and diplomacy can't solve the problem. Isn't this plain glorification of war?

9. How much does the succes of Star Wars reflect the ancient, barbarous human instincts and beliefs?

10. I personally felt the planet where the Jedis and the parliament are as the United States, Queen Amidala's planet as Britain, Tatooine as Arabia, etc. In truth, can we relate Star Wars to the story of our planet alone?

Jedi Yoda

Darth Vader
For unknown reasons, though, my favourite characters are Darth Vader and Jedi Yoda. Possibly this reflects my unconscious worship of a wise-hero and an anti-hero!

All images: courtesy to wikimedia.org.

Sunday 14 August 2011

Of the leader

Of the Leader
A Poem by
Sandeep Palakkal

I never sang about him, never wrote about him,
Despite my intense desire to do so.

He was so exceptional that there was enough
To write about him, enough to sing.


But I never did so,
For he was a leader of the masses.


An angry, intolerant mass,
Which frightened my poor, little heart.


Alas! Thus my fear of the masses took away
An oportunity for a poem.


-Sandeep Palakkal
Chennai

Fukushima 2011

Fukushima 2011
A poem by
Sandeep Palakkal

Man said:
We've discovered science, we've developed technology, 
We've invented medicine. Oh mighty we! We're invincible!
We've ruled the world, and now, we're creating our own worlds!
A world full of amusements, where we're all happy.

As I was watching him with great admiration,
An earthquake occurred,
Which nearly destroyed the world that Man had created.
And a tsunamy stripped him off of almost all his achievements.

Fukushima
Heartbroken, he awaited only for the nuclear explosion,
And, worst of all, the complete meltdown.

He'd science, he had technology, and he had medicine.
He'd created a new world, but
He'd forgotten the best of all his treasures.

He'd forgotten to sing!
He'd lost his poetry!

-Sandeep Palakkal
Chennai

Saturday 13 August 2011

Siddharthan the Atheist

Siddharthan the Atheist
A Story by
Sandeep Palakkal

A quiet evening. Siddharthan asked Reshma, who was getting ready to go somewhere, "Where are you going?"

"To the temple. Why, are you coming?", she replied with a question.

"As a matter of fact... no! I am an atheist", he said triumphantly, wearing a plain grin on his face.

"Lucky", she retorted immediately.

"Lucky?" he asked, trying hard not to betray his surprise on his face.

"Yes, God is lucky", she replied promptly and went out at once.

Friday 12 August 2011

The Matrix and the Monte-Carlo Simulations

Recently, I watched The Matrix trilogy, again, just for entertainment. The whole series of events, to be honest, was just funny. Taking the "red pill" to "wake up to reality"! OK, anything is fine in a movie. I wonder what those "awaken" human beings are going to do in the "real" world! What are they going to build? What difference it makes! At least, in the first part of the movie, there was one "bad" guy who felt the reality was too unbearable. I liked him. The supposed villains, that is, the machines, are truly not conquered, it seems, in the third part. Maybe, they intended it as a shift in the plot.

Neo and his "simulations"
So much has been discussed about it by now, as the final part of the movie was released eight years back. But there is something interesting in the movie that I would like to ponder upon: the scene where Neo enters "the door with the lights", seeking for the "source", and meets the "Architect" (apparently a computer program) of "the Matrix". The Architect is shown to be an old person god knows why. In that scene, Neo's face is shown in a large number of computer monitors. As the Architect talked to him, each of Neo's images responded in a different way. The actual Neo's response came after a pause. Those monitors were predicting Neo's response, possibly making use of its knowledge of Neo's personality, his behavioural patters and his past. That scene was the only interesting scene to me. Because, what I was seeing was actually a Monte-Carlo simulation of human behaviour!

In Monte-Carlo simulation, we study a random phenomenon by simulating it many times, independently, and recording the output of each simulations. If the number of these iterations is large, we can more or less expect that we have recorded most of the possible outcomes of the particular phenomenon. This gives a fair understanding of what phenomenon that we are dealing with. Monte-Carlo simulations are used in experiments pertaining to various fields such as signal processing, physics, biology, economics, business studies, and so on. To have a nice Monte-Carlo outlook, I suggest you to read Fooled by Randomness, by Nicolas Taleb.

Coming back to Neo's case, Neo is the random phenomenon and the Architect's statements to Neo are the excitations or inputs. Neo's responses are expected output, but, by simulation, the computers generated Neo's responses simultaneously and independently; and they were all quite different! Isn't it the same in our "real" world, outside the movie, too? As we face the everyday life, we respond in some manner. Many believe that a person's behaviour and the way he responds to his surroundings describe him completely. We say, "Oh, he is such a mean person" or "he is a lazy fool" or "she's a pompous girl" by studying people's behaviour. And yet, it is a random outcome! It could be different! Then can we rely on our own judgements of a person? Rather, how "accurate" are our "estimates" of the personality of a person from his behaviour? Maybe, we have to observe a person for a long time and study his behaviour in different circumstances to know him well. Also, we have to see how varying is his behaviour and "mood". What I mean is that a person responded angrily to a simple question today does not necessarily mean that he is short tempered. Maybe, he did not have a nice breakfast in the morning and so he was annoyed. We have to observe him patiently for a few days, on different occasions. It may turn out that he is actually very kind and soft-spoken! Well, statistics describes accuracy in terms of variance -- a measure of how varying the output of a random experiment can be. Do you see the connection? It is in order to study the variance that a Monte-Carlo simulation simulates an experiment many times -- to see all the outputs.

The Architect, perhaps being very old and having seen six older versions of the Matrix and Neo, very accurately predicts that Neo will respond emotionally rather than intellectually to the situation he was facing -- his lover, Trinity , was under attack, and he had to save her no matter what happens to the Matrix and other human beings! yes, his response was emotional. In that he represents the entire human race. The way humans respond to the every day life is more motivated by emotions than intellect (I'm reminded of reading Daniel Goleman's Emotional Intelligence). I remember the sly expression the Architect bore on his face when he saw that his prediction turned out to be accurate. That was the best scene in the entire Matrix trilogy, to me!

Thursday 11 August 2011

The Undiscovered -- Or the Long Forgotten


The Undiscovered -- Or the Long Forgotten
A Story by
Sandeep Palakkal

Once upon a time, or rather, some years back, there lived a young man in the middle of a big city in India. In those days, in the depth of his heart, he used to feel that he was one of those educated young men who were, perhaps, doomed to live in a rather congested, dirty Indian metro, far away from home and where some alien language was spoken in the everyday life. Of course, his bulk five figure salary helped him lead an easy life in a nice apartment, with all comforts which almost all of his nighbours could not even dream of! He lived in a fully furnished apartment, in the corner of a street, which otherwise was as good as a slum. Perhaps, he was bored of everything outside and, most of all, of his own life. I don’t know; I can’t judge him anymore.

For the past four years, he had been living there, and had developed some damn, monotonous routine. Routines are good, you know? They say, it helped people like Einstein to concentrate on their work; perhaps, they are correct. But his routine only made him more of a damn fool. There was nothing interesting to think of in life, other than the usual daily cool stuff. But only until a day something had happened in his life. Something apparently trifling, but which changed something in him. Which caused his mind to be active again.

Well, it was a hot morning, as usual in that part of the earth. And he was on his way to office, on one of his new bikes -- he owned three bikes and one car at the time, for that matter. And, as usual in every morning, he bumped into the same old coffee shop for breakfast. He had not made this shop his permanent place for breakfast because it had very good ambience, or because the people over there behaved well, or because he had just developed some kind of affection with the place and the people who worked there. It was simply because it was almost the only shop which provided some hygienic food, though they charged him more than necessary. After all, this was the case with every shop in a metro! As the usual confusion of what to eat -- dosa or idly or puri with masala -- started threatening the stability of his mind, he noticed a startling new face on the other side of the bill counter, where usually an old boorish fellow used to sit. Perhaps, he had been too much conditioned and adjusted to his life, his mind could not take this change quite immediately. He was confused while making his order, almost forgot to get his balance back, and was so embarrassed to talk to her, the owner of this new face. While he was eating, he knew something had changed in him. Only, he could not explain it in words -- he just could not explain.

His confusion stayed only for one day, and second day onwards, he started observing her, in fact, without his own knowledge. Somehow, she aroused a lot of enthusiasm in him. Enthusiasm -- maybe, the sign of a healthy mind. She was just twenty-two or twenty-three years old, yet not very attractive, and had nothing in common with those girls who were working with him in the office, who his friends and, as he would admit not without some doubt, he, found very sexy, and who, he and his friends thought, made their life in the office exotic. On the contrary, she was less attractive, or perhaps, completely unattractive; his friends might even say ugly? She used to wear some old fashioned churidar, a pair of black coloured earrings, a pair of plastic bangle of some dark color, one on her each arm, and a pair of thin slippers; she showed no taste of fashion whatsoever in her dressing or appearance, and if she still had some sense of fashion, it was from some ancient times and bland; and it seemed to him that she never bothered to say something or make a point about her personality through her appearance. Besides, she was so thin and fragile that she would evoke pity in anyone who looked at her.

Yet, since the beginning, he felt there was something in her, which lay beyond her outward appearance. Was it the liveliness she was able to render into her otherwise silly gestures? Was it those simple and naive expressions that she continuously bore in her face? Or, was it the calm composure she always possessed in all her movements? He could never tell. But I am convinced that for him it was a joy watching her, without her knowledge, sitting in a corner of the shop, with a hot cup of coffee on his table. Sitting like that he used to feel that he was a child again, life was again worth living, and happiness was nothing remote or nonexistent. What is the meaning of life, dear friend? Or, rather, what was life worth living for? If not for the simple happiness one feels for no reason! That simple happiness one feels when waking up to a warm, sunny morning, with songs of the birds in the background! The same happiness one feels after taking a short walk through some old country side! Happiness one feels when watching the sun falling slowly into the sea! Where had it gone? When had it disappeared from his life? Why had he not known? Perhaps, it was the same simple happiness that her presence had aroused in him. I could never tell till lately.

I had chanced to meet him on one of my long train journeys a few years ago, as he happened to be seated opposite to me. He looked like a very happy man, looking enthusiastically through the window, as though he could not miss any scene outside. At some point of time, somehow, we started talking, and it was then that he told me this story of his life. He told his story with such intense passion and poise that even I felt very elated. From his long conversation, I was convinced that what he felt towards that young girl was not the least stained by those carnal desire a man would feel towards a girl. Rather, he was just inspired by her presence. I remember asking myself the question: Can mere appearance of a simple girl cause so much of change in one person? I never believed him, but only until lately.

As years move forward, we forget even our own happy memories, and so had I long forgotten that chap and his story. But to my surprise, and for no apparent reason that I could think of, his story came back into my mind, not when I was awake, but during my sleep as a revealing dream. Perhaps, it was the early hours of the morning, and I was still sleeping under my blanket, when I started dreaming of an unknown land. I am sure that I had never been there before in my life. I saw myself walking on a deserted road, looking for something. Finally, I could find a lonely coffee shop, which, I felt, had long been waiting for me. I entered into it with some strange feelings, hoping to have a cup of coffee, and I saw at once a thin, dark skinned girl sitting across a table, wearing a green churidar. Somehow, it occurred to me that I must get the bill first from her, and walked straight towards her. I was aware that there was no one else in the shop, and I kept wondering what kind of a place it was. First, I asked her what time it was. She did not understand. She was confused, and rather, was scared -- I could read it in her face. Her face reflected her mind so transparently that it glowed with momentary confusion and doubt. I had never seen such a glowing face before in my life, and it was refreshingly new and beautiful. I woke up at this moment in my bed, and the last word was stuck deep in my mind. I deliriously repeated the word many times before I was fully awake and became conscious of myself

“Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!”
Alas! The fellow I met in the train was wondering what had attracted him to that unattractive girl. But I know the answer. I know the answer. It was her beauty! Her beauty!

I do not know where that chap lives. I do not know his address. But if he reads this piece of work that I have written for him, let him know this.

It is beauty, my friend, which lies beyond attractiveness, which is the source of simple happiness in life. And while attractiveness is open for any fool to see, beauty has to be discovered!

Sandeep Palakkal,
Chennai,
Aug 11, 2011.

Tuesday 26 July 2011

Advertisement -- Notebook of a Signal Processing Engineer

Palakkal Times

My time is limited. I am already exhausted in life. I have a mountain of frustrations in my mind. Yet, I can't help writing more, again, "to feel the inexorable pleasure of writing".  I have started another blog on signal processing, more on my professional front. I had started some time before, but only now I published something relevant. You can access my blog at http://sandeeppalakkal.wordpress.com/

Thanks for your support,
sandeep Palakkal

Advt.
26th July, 2011

Monday 18 July 2011

On Buddha's Problem, from a Contemporary Perspective

Once upon a time I was so fascinated by teachings of Buddha. I often say that I am a frustrated nihilist. I became a nihilist against my will, when I lost my belief in everything in life, all values propagated by the society, and every moral teachings. Yes, I have gone through a time like that. It was in those days I read so much, seeking a foundation of thoughts and values for me. Buddhism was the one of the most important teaching that grabbed my attention and admiration. Here, I would like to talk a little bit of Buddhism and ponder over it, for no particular reason. All the opinions expressed below are personal, and I claim no scholarly value for them. Before beginning, I would like to complete the story of my nihilism by saying that I could never be satisfied by any set of values or teachings. The more I read, the more I sought, the bigger a nihilist I became. Was it my fault? Incapacity to believe -- Is this my fault? Finally, I was bored of my own nihilism. I could no longer bear it. One day, I realized that my nihilism itself had started to become frustrating. Ever since, I considered myself "a frustrated nihilist". And ever since I became free of the need "to seek a foundation of values and thoughts for me". Probably, ever since, I started "to live", freely, without conceptions.

Now, coming back to Buddha's teachings, I would liketo  look at the heart of the problem Buddha tried to analyze. There is a whole story and speculations surrounding Buddha. However, my objective is not to tell or re-tell those stories but actually to look at Buddha's problem and try to understand it from my time and perspective. Understanding Buddha's problem from his own time is an impossible task for me, and can possibly be done only by specialists in Buddhism and its history.

Probably, I have to begin by asking what is the objective or meaning of human life, though I consider it as the most absurd question in heaven and earth to ask (I have not seen hell; therefore, I leave the possibility of asking this question there). Distancing myself from all the available scriptures and previous knowledge, I begin by looking at a more functional level -- the level at which life actually unfolds. I would like to look at how everyone lives in the world. From an animal's perspective, life is all about eating and breeding. When it does not eat or breed, it either takes rest or just play around aimlessly with its fellow animals. These statements about animals may be incomplete, but I am comfortable in handling incompleteness. I rather continue to look at humans who differ from animals in their superior intelligence. In the case of humans, the first two points I said about animals are valid, with a slight modification in the second -- eating and mating (more often for pleasure than for breeding). Regarding the third aspect, the modern humans have almost forgotten to play around with their pals. Except the children, they are "settled" and spend most of their leisure time "resting" in front of television. Apart from these, their other leisure activities or entertainments in general are transitory and have no particular objective. So, let us try to learn from the modern humans what their objective is by looking at how they spend most of their time. Majority of the time is dedicated to "some" job, which they are not particularly interested in but do solely for earning money (a more decent way of putting it is "to make a living") and for the joy of upholding it as a status symbol (In a charming voice she introduced herself, "Well, I work as a ******".). Of course, I am mistaken if I oversimplify the objective of job or work in the modern human life as money-making and attaining an identity. More than that modern humans work so that they can secure the future, marry off their girls decently, meet urgent situations like sickness etc. (Does it again it boil down to money?) I think that we can safely say that the objective of modern life is to lead a safe, comfortable life without much troubles. Money is considered as the means by which these objectives can be achieved. Since humans have not evolved enough, they quite often forget this and pursue money-making as their sole objective. (When one tries to achieve this in little time, one tries to do things like "3G scam", and, if unlucky, ends up in the Tihar jail.) There are exceptions, though. There are people who are more lazy and do not even try to lead safe and comfortable life. They just booze and kill each other in the street. On the other extreme, there are people who work for more (they say) noble objectives like fame, service of the poor, building up own nation, etc. There are more selfish people who aspire to become a movie director, actor, television anchorman, painter, novelist, model, engineer, etc. There are other fools who aspire for academic excellence, like obtaining a Ph.D. from a well-known institute, or for achieving technical competence, like struggling to be an excellent engineer!

Having understood more or less the meaning and objective of modern life, I would like to look at the next aspect in this realm, which comes for sure but uninvited. Summarizing the above paragraph, the objective of life is mostly to "achieve" something. This "something" changes for person to person, country to country (maybe), and time to time. But a major difficulty is "to achieve something permanently". This seems to be (I say "seems to be" because I am still skeptic -- my weakness) impossible. To understand this impossibility, I must have to ask another stupid, age old question: "who am I?". However, because I cannot surpass my own skepticism, I am rather tempted to ask "what am I?". Again, without resorting to all the metaphysical stories written in the sacred text books, I would say, "I am my body, my thoughts, my feelings, my knowledge, my surroundings, my family, my education, my fantasies and so on". Put in one sentence, "I am a bunch of abstract and material elements, which are impermanent and, by and large, irreconcilable". The irreconcilability of the elements which constitute the "I" is an interesting topic for further discussion. But I am interested in the other "fact": the impermanence of every element that makes up "I"! This means that whatever I think, whatever I do, whatever I plan (no matter how diligently I plan), my life and my action and "I" are impermanent. However well I live, however devoted I am towards my life, however noble my pursuits are, I am not permanent... my power will slowly decay and, finally, one day, I have to die. I will be gone, my time will be gone, my work will be gone, my family will be gone, and my world will be gone. This impermanence causes an unsolvable uneasiness in every human being. Knowledge of this very fact makes one to be aware of the futility of everything one strongly attaches oneself to. This weakness of oneself causes eternal suffering -- "dukkha". Is there any solution? Is there any possibilities of salvation? How can I end my suffering? This is the heart of Buddha's teachings.

I admired Buddhism mostly because the way Buddha arrived at his problem, which he considered as the only problem on earth worth solving! While other ancient thoughts start with the solution (faith and salvation), Buddha starts with the problem! And for Buddha, every other metaphysical questions were only sub-problems or no-problems.

Thursday 7 July 2011

Paradox -- yet another one

Yet another paradox in my life (popular among Ph.D. students, but jut repeating here):

In my research, I am searching for at least a single problem to solve; 
In life I have only problems, which I don't know how to solve.

END

Thursday 16 June 2011

Beyond words

'Perfume -- The Story of a Murderer' is a very good movie, though I would not say that it is an exceptional one. It is the story of a man who had a talent for sensing odour, and the extent of his talent goes beyond the usual human possibilities. For example, he knows the smell of iron, frogs, wood, water, and almost anything around his world. Besides, to sense the smell of something, he does not have to go near it; he can sense it from a distance. Even his sexual attraction towards a girl is manifested through his desire for her body odour, which she loses immediately after she dies. At some point of the movie, he realizes that his body does not have any smell of its own. For him, he is the only person in the world 'who' (or rather, 'what') does not possess a smell of his (its) own. Later, he falls into an obsessive struggle to extract the smells of beautiful women, and own those smells for himself. How? That is the story of this film.

In fact, I have no intention in talking about this movie itself. I am more interested in something else. The above character learns to speak lately in his childhood. Up to the age of ten or twelve, he is unable to convey anything through words. He senses the world through odour. And for him, anything around him is distinguished by its odour. When he finally learns to speak, he realizes that words were quite incapable of expressing the reality around him, what he has seen and felt. He could not find equivalent words for many things in the world as he knew it. It is this point I am interested in.

We all see things around us and feel many things inside our minds. And we identify almost all things within and outside us by words. Probably, man has been able to make his distinguishable mark on earth (or is he/she?) because of words. Thoughts originates as words (or do they?). Without words, no thoughts, no discoveries, no stories, no science, no news, no advertisements, and no "culture". But how do we learn words? Someone teaches us! We understand the world around us through the words someone has taught us! How strange! How mistaken we possibly could be about things around us! Shouldn't we learn words through nature? Why are we not taught like that? What if we are confused between things in the world because we identify them with wrong words? Do we have words for everything around us? At least for every feelings we have? What if we think that we are sad when we actually feel a mix of sadness and happiness? This happens to me many times! What are the words we use for our feelings? Anger, happiness, sadness, melancholy, jealousy, lust, serenity, and what else? Do we have feelings which do not have equivalent names? When I say I am angry, is there only one kind of anger? What if I can have many types of anger but I wrongly identify all of them as just "anger"? Have I really understood what anger is? (If you think I am writing some nonsense and I have gone nuts, you might as well be wondering "does he really understand what he is writing"?)

Buddha said "truth is beyond words" and what one needs is not indoctrination, which is merely knowledge of a few words, but a "transmission outside doctrine, with no dependence on words". Saramago has shown us what a person who can see sees in a world, where everyone is blind. Modern science says we have evolved in order to survive the hardships that we come across in the world. What if we have evolved in such a way that we cannot see what we must not understand? Put together, man is limited, imperfect, and blind in some sense.

Today, someone was wondering if he could realize an ideal lowpass filter (for non-techies, tuning of your radio in a perfect sense, without any extra interference). And by discussion, I could make him see why he could not! The trade-off between time and frequency characteristics, the uncertain principle and the practical non-realizability of infinity! But even then, we can cleanly listen to our radios, watch T.V. and talk to our friends over mobile phones! All these situations need filters. He said "Signal processing is great! Our technology is great!". I replied him "It is the opposite. We are imperfect. Even with imperfect technology, we can do many things that we are doing. We cannot sense any imperfection introduced by technology in radio music, T.V. shows, or mobile conversations. This is because, I repeat, we are limited and we need only limited technology". Will you agree with me? Without technology, we cannot see the infra-red radiation. When we see it by the help of technology, we feel that the technology is excellent. On the contrary, we cannot perceive the imperfection of the technology because whatever imperfections our technology suffers from are all due to the imperfection possessed by us!

Starting from a movie, I have gone to technology. I do not know what is happening to me. Probably, I have really gone insane! Nonetheless, I still dare to wonder what is beyond words?.

Friday 10 June 2011

Becoming human!

Finally, after a short gap, I watched an excellent movie two days back. I watched it on DVD, along with my wife, and throughout the movie, she kept wondering "how somebody could conceive such different ideas!". Of course, unlike me, she had never got an opportunity to go beyond the usual Hollywood/Bollywood/Malayalam/Tamil shit! But, now, gradually she is ....

The Movie
The movie that grabbed our whole attention for two hours is "The Terminal". It is directed by Steven Spielberg. And Tom Hanks plays the protagonist Viktor Navorski. Tom Hanks has been one of my favourite actors -- how can I ever forget his class performance in Cast Away, The Road to Perdition, Philadelphia and Forrest Gump!

Well! To summarize the movie, Viktor visits New York for some purpose (that's less important, I think) and he belongs to a fictitious East European country, called Krakozhia. By the time he reached the New York airport terminal, civil war erupts back in his country and the government is overthrown. The United States has not recognized the new government and has cancelled all visa given to the citizens belonging to Krakozhia. Consequently, Viktor cannot enter America. Thus he happens to be "a person with no country", and is simply "unacceptable" to America. He cannot fly back to his country until the war is over. He is forced to live in the airport terminal, his passport being confiscated by the authorities. He is left with no money, no place to stay, and no work. On top of it, he knows very little English!

What I have described is the beginning, probably spanning the first twenty minutes, of the movie. The rest of the movie is about his struggles to survive in the terminal. I interpret the story as the struggle of a lonely man, thrown into a completely strange and, above all, indifferent world. His only objective is his survival. He has no identity, no society, no affiliations and associations, and no friends. Have you ever thought what a man would do in such circumstances? Viktor never resorts to anything immoral, but keeps his dignity as a human being throughout. Naturally, the initial concern must be food, and in the modern society, this means money. He discovers several opportunities in the terminal to earn money (watch the movie -- I don't want to kill your pleasure of anticipations). Later, his efforts are to identify and get himself identified with his surroundings. That is to say, to learn the language, to communicate with others, to make relationships, and so on. He has to begin everything from the scratch, like a new-born child! He has to learn how to become a human being. Fortunately, Viktor is admirably creative in overcoming all the difficulties.

Surely, this movie is something I am not going to forget in my life. My wife enjoyed it very much though it was pretty different from her usual taste!

Monday 6 June 2011

Pirates 4

I watched the "Pirates of the Carribean 4" with a lot of enthusiasm. Well! Jonny Depp as Jack Sparrow ("there should be a captain somewhere in there" :)) was excellent, but the role of Angelica demanded very less from Penelope Cruz. However, the scenes in which both come together were very nice. The film had nothing special which could exploit the 3D vision! Except for a few scenes, the movie experience was merely 2D.

But we relished the coolness which the air-conditioners provided at INOX in this hot summer in Chennai :)

Tuesday 5 April 2011

The Creator -- A Poem

The Creator
--------------------

Does God exist,
The one who created the world?
I don't know! But I know:
India won the world cup cricket.
All the prophecies of media came true.
And the media create the world!

--Sandeep Palakkal
April 5, 2011.
Chennai.