Friday, October 17, 2008
Life
Anticipation. Balls. Crocin. Down. Esoteric. Fever. Ganga. Headache. iGoogle. Jabber. Klingon. Late. Mukka. Naaka. Oomph. Pretension. Quiz. Randomness. Strikeout. Trouble. Undie. Vamos. Washout. Xone. Yorker. Zyzzyva.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Youngboy
(Note: Bonus Points for cracking the funda of the title ;) )
As he looked around the bar, he felt a glow of satisfaction was over him. This moment alone, was worth all of the hardships, the nights of frustration and the scores and scores of wasted test‐tubes and DNA samples. This moment, where social gatherings were once again populated by the young and the restless. Just like it had always been, till around 200 years ago, when suddenly the population pyramid began to completely invert itself. He thought about the weird chain of events that his life had been.
Birth control and increased life expectancy had come together with wholly unexpected consequences, and now there were just not enough young people in the world, and too many old ones. And the world was worried. The response was swift, and quite unnatural. The world’s governments got together and started a research station where they brought together ‘representative specimens’ of all the ‘diverse’ people from the world, to use all the politically correct terms. He had been one such chosen specimen, taken from his home when he had been 2. Or so the records he had been shown claimed, he had no memory of anything of course. Millennia of human evolution still hadn’t figured out a way to make the brain remember things from its first 2 years of existence. The important‐looking people at the research station had then proceeded to conduct a battery of tests on them, in an effort to separate the elusive ‘youth’ gene. The idea therefore was simple. Make all the old people younger.
All the nights of frustration, the scores of wasted test‐tubes and DNA samples later, the important-looking people proclaimed importantly, that they had it. People could now retain their youth forever, eternally, indefinitely. The pill would not mess with their aging process itself, but their vitality and appearance would be restored to that of a 25‐year old. Everyone agreed that this was the age that could be best described as the ‘prime of the youth’. And he had finally been released from the research station, along with the rest of the ‘representative specimens’. They were thanked profusely for their role in saving the world, in their selfless submission to all sorts of invasive procedures and characterization techniques. For having gone through the program to the end, with courage, even as they watched half the people they had grown up with in the station die around them from various effects of radiation, gene mutation and psychoanalyses. They were given a new start to life, set up in the biggest cities from their respective parts of the world, large house, high‐paying job, the works. And then, just as they were about to leave their home of the past 25 years, the most important-looking person had come up to them gravely and said ‘And remember, this research station never existed’.
All the nights of frustration, the scores of wasted test‐tubes and DNA samples later, the important-looking people proclaimed importantly, that they had it. People could now retain their youth forever, eternally, indefinitely. The pill would not mess with their aging process itself, but their vitality and appearance would be restored to that of a 25‐year old. Everyone agreed that this was the age that could be best described as the ‘prime of the youth’. And he had finally been released from the research station, along with the rest of the ‘representative specimens’. They were thanked profusely for their role in saving the world, in their selfless submission to all sorts of invasive procedures and characterization techniques. For having gone through the program to the end, with courage, even as they watched half the people they had grown up with in the station die around them from various effects of radiation, gene mutation and psychoanalyses. They were given a new start to life, set up in the biggest cities from their respective parts of the world, large house, high‐paying job, the works. And then, just as they were about to leave their home of the past 25 years, the most important-looking person had come up to them gravely and said ‘And remember, this research station never existed’.
Sure, it never existed, he thought to himself. He really had no complaints about the one year of his life after that. They really had taken care of him as they had promised. He didn’t especially feel for lost childhoods and missing the joy of growing up and all such. He lived for the moment, and this current moment was looking very promising indeed, with the girl smiling at him from across the bar. He finished his drink and started towards her, preparing the smile of his that just always worked.
As they were putting their dresses back on in his room, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about the past hour. It was not that the girl was familiar, he got that feeling with almost every girl, and he put it down to his growing up in a secluded environment. It was something else, something more involved than her, it was more about them. It was as if their intimacy was strained, was held up by something else that had happened before. And yet, nothing had happened before, he was sure of it. If there was one thing he was good at, it was remembering the faces of the ladies who had been in his room. And she most definitely hadn’t.
“Hey”, he called out to her, just as she was preparing to leave, “I didn’t quite catch your name.”
“Anna”, she smiled back, “Anna Chrystoweilen, and yours?”
He felt like he had been kicked in the gut. His head swam, as she faded in and out of his vision alternately. His stomach went for a toss, and he clutched at it involuntarily. He held on to the side of the bed to steady himself. He looked up at her; she was still smiling, looking enquiringly at him, with a hint of concern on her face. Maybe she’d noticed the marked change in him, the colour draining from his face. He hurriedly tried to regain composure, or as much of it as he could. He managed a weak smile and whispered “Philip”.
“That’s a nice name”, she said as she walked towards the door. She stopped at the door and looked back, a wistful look on her face, and for a moment the wonder pill or the youth pill or whatever it was they were calling it, lost all its effect, and she looked all of the 50 years she was. “That was the name of my son before...”, she shook her head, closing the door behind her.
He collapsed on to the floor, retching, a mixture of tears and saliva flowing down his face. No air would go in, as hard as he tried, and his heart was hammering away like it was putting in one last mighty effort before giving away. He punched the floor in front of him till his knuckles bled, and one of them showed the white of the bones. Blinding flashes of memory seared his brain, from his time at the station. He remembered the record, the same record where he’d seen he’d been admitted when he’d been two years old‐
“Hey”, he called out to her, just as she was preparing to leave, “I didn’t quite catch your name.”
“Anna”, she smiled back, “Anna Chrystoweilen, and yours?”
He felt like he had been kicked in the gut. His head swam, as she faded in and out of his vision alternately. His stomach went for a toss, and he clutched at it involuntarily. He held on to the side of the bed to steady himself. He looked up at her; she was still smiling, looking enquiringly at him, with a hint of concern on her face. Maybe she’d noticed the marked change in him, the colour draining from his face. He hurriedly tried to regain composure, or as much of it as he could. He managed a weak smile and whispered “Philip”.
“That’s a nice name”, she said as she walked towards the door. She stopped at the door and looked back, a wistful look on her face, and for a moment the wonder pill or the youth pill or whatever it was they were calling it, lost all its effect, and she looked all of the 50 years she was. “That was the name of my son before...”, she shook her head, closing the door behind her.
He collapsed on to the floor, retching, a mixture of tears and saliva flowing down his face. No air would go in, as hard as he tried, and his heart was hammering away like it was putting in one last mighty effort before giving away. He punched the floor in front of him till his knuckles bled, and one of them showed the white of the bones. Blinding flashes of memory seared his brain, from his time at the station. He remembered the record, the same record where he’d seen he’d been admitted when he’d been two years old‐
Admitted: 20 December, 2235; Age: 2 Years; Name: Philip Chrystoweilen
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Fooled by Randomness
While the plagiarism of the title from this could have been avoided, it's the discussion about this book that lead to this post in the first place, and so it's only fair that there's a reference to it. The book itself is a take on how chance plays a role in almost all aspects around us, or to put in Douglas Adamsian terms how chance has a big part in The Life, Universe and Everything. And that's quite true, if you think about it.
Life, by its very structure, can never be in equilibrium. By Life, I mean,the whole bloody large piece of jigsaw puzzle that the roughly 6.3 billion people in this world are attempting to solve(from here on, Life, with a capital L shall refer to this macro-state, while life shall refer to the thing that an IITian doesn't have). In purely Engineering terms, when there's equilibrium achieved, all the components are in their most 'satisfied' state and are not going to (or even want to) move to any other position. Now, in Life, if there was a force that pushed everyone towards this ideal point, and it was doing its job perfectly then at some point of time t in the Universe's existence, Life would have equilibrated. This raises the question, what next. What happens at all times t+, if at t, everyone has achieved what they wanted to achieve. This is where Chance comes in. Or to stick to engineering, Chaos. Or Randomness.
Since Life itself is made up of each of the single lives, each of these lives has the potential to disrupt entirely, the overall design that is Life. Even if each person's life is tending towards its own micro-ideality, the ideality may not be what that person set out to achieve in the first place. This might be a bit of a ramble, but imagine you could break down each of your achievements into its smallest logical unit. For every pragmatist out there who believes in 'My life is what I make of it 'or 'There's no such thing as Lady Luck, I've never been good with ladies anyway', it's fairly simple to show that there was at least one point in their path of life where whatever happened was not a planned act of the person in question. Anywhere there is a question of choice, there's a bit of chance involved, as no amount of logical rationalizing can ever pick a 'better' choice, at least between two near-similar options. And every life always has its moments of picking between choices. And every life then follows the path that such a choice leads to. And thus every life, at its smallest opening step, is adulterated by chance.
Which then leads to the question of whether, once this initial disturbance from equilibrium has been set in motion, there is only one place it can lead to, and whether if the other choice had been made at that point, there is another path which will lead somewhere else, a sort of a parallel universe. Like in the whole concept of movies like The Butterfly Effect and Sliding Doors and, closer to home, 12B. Three months with an Equity Research firm has also only strengthened my belief that overall, it's just one big gamble. There can be reams and reams of reports from the classiest analysts in the business, and pages of code written by Math Ph.Ds from the Princetons and Dartmouths of the world, but eventually, it's the call of the man on the floor on whether to put in or pull out the billions of Dollars. And that's, basically, a chance. A chance backed up by thirty pages of reports and innumerable Partial Differential Equation simulations, but a chance nevertheless. And if the decision is to pull out, and made by 5 or 6 such people together, each taking a chance on the other being right in pulling out, we end up with something like this.
Eventually, somebody has to get lucky, of course. In an overall 10:1 ratio of misses:hits, there have to be enough lucky people in the world to convince the other 9 that if you try hard enough, you can too. Something like Colbert's claim, if you may. And so the world goes around, with everyone in the 9 trying to become the 1, in spite of the obviously futile exercise that the 1 in 10 is a fixed number, and that Chance is a zero-sum game. But oh well, something has to make the world go around, and love simply doesn't work anymore. So, cool.
Update: And then, this happens.
Life, by its very structure, can never be in equilibrium. By Life, I mean,the whole bloody large piece of jigsaw puzzle that the roughly 6.3 billion people in this world are attempting to solve(from here on, Life, with a capital L shall refer to this macro-state, while life shall refer to the thing that an IITian doesn't have). In purely Engineering terms, when there's equilibrium achieved, all the components are in their most 'satisfied' state and are not going to (or even want to) move to any other position. Now, in Life, if there was a force that pushed everyone towards this ideal point, and it was doing its job perfectly then at some point of time t in the Universe's existence, Life would have equilibrated. This raises the question, what next. What happens at all times t+, if at t, everyone has achieved what they wanted to achieve. This is where Chance comes in. Or to stick to engineering, Chaos. Or Randomness.
Since Life itself is made up of each of the single lives, each of these lives has the potential to disrupt entirely, the overall design that is Life. Even if each person's life is tending towards its own micro-ideality, the ideality may not be what that person set out to achieve in the first place. This might be a bit of a ramble, but imagine you could break down each of your achievements into its smallest logical unit. For every pragmatist out there who believes in 'My life is what I make of it 'or 'There's no such thing as Lady Luck, I've never been good with ladies anyway', it's fairly simple to show that there was at least one point in their path of life where whatever happened was not a planned act of the person in question. Anywhere there is a question of choice, there's a bit of chance involved, as no amount of logical rationalizing can ever pick a 'better' choice, at least between two near-similar options. And every life always has its moments of picking between choices. And every life then follows the path that such a choice leads to. And thus every life, at its smallest opening step, is adulterated by chance.
Which then leads to the question of whether, once this initial disturbance from equilibrium has been set in motion, there is only one place it can lead to, and whether if the other choice had been made at that point, there is another path which will lead somewhere else, a sort of a parallel universe. Like in the whole concept of movies like The Butterfly Effect and Sliding Doors and, closer to home, 12B. Three months with an Equity Research firm has also only strengthened my belief that overall, it's just one big gamble. There can be reams and reams of reports from the classiest analysts in the business, and pages of code written by Math Ph.Ds from the Princetons and Dartmouths of the world, but eventually, it's the call of the man on the floor on whether to put in or pull out the billions of Dollars. And that's, basically, a chance. A chance backed up by thirty pages of reports and innumerable Partial Differential Equation simulations, but a chance nevertheless. And if the decision is to pull out, and made by 5 or 6 such people together, each taking a chance on the other being right in pulling out, we end up with something like this.
Eventually, somebody has to get lucky, of course. In an overall 10:1 ratio of misses:hits, there have to be enough lucky people in the world to convince the other 9 that if you try hard enough, you can too. Something like Colbert's claim, if you may. And so the world goes around, with everyone in the 9 trying to become the 1, in spite of the obviously futile exercise that the 1 in 10 is a fixed number, and that Chance is a zero-sum game. But oh well, something has to make the world go around, and love simply doesn't work anymore. So, cool.
Update: And then, this happens.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
In Dependance
The roads of Chennai witnessed a a new phenomenon a couple of weeks ago. Children of ages ranging from 5 to 10 swarmed the major signals of the city, which is quite common. But for a change they were not offering to wipe the dust off your windshield, or sell you clothes that could, or pointing at the 2-year old, starved baby on their hips and then extending their arm out in the universal gesture for help. Now they were holding out items which everyone felt compelled to, and were even proud of buying and displaying, and they parted with their money for the same with a broad grin. A grin of the same intensity with which they would've scowled at the same shabby-haired, ragged 6 year-olds if they had simply asked for alms.
For this time they were buying Indian flags. Pin-up varieties, stand-up varieties that you could place on your dashboard, stick-on varieties you could paste on your doors. For we are all Indians and are very proud of proclaiming that we are, especially on Independence Day.
So, there is a point to Independence Day after all. It makes the fight for survival of the 100-odd shabby-haired, ragged 6 year-olds around the city easier. It's not much, but the flags would've got them through the week. And something else would get them through the next week. And then something else. And so on and so forth, getting them through enough weeks, at least till Republic Day.
For this time they were buying Indian flags. Pin-up varieties, stand-up varieties that you could place on your dashboard, stick-on varieties you could paste on your doors. For we are all Indians and are very proud of proclaiming that we are, especially on Independence Day.
So, there is a point to Independence Day after all. It makes the fight for survival of the 100-odd shabby-haired, ragged 6 year-olds around the city easier. It's not much, but the flags would've got them through the week. And something else would get them through the next week. And then something else. And so on and so forth, getting them through enough weeks, at least till Republic Day.
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