White Noise

The Grey Castle

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing by yossarian on 22 November, 2006

P had finally decided, after days and cold nights of indecision. The indecision wasn’t in regard to whether he should leave the field or not. Everybody has to. That is the rule. The decision was on when to leave the field. No one can stay on the field for more than a week. P had already stayed for five days there. He could have delayed his decision by another two days, but no more. He picked up his belongings – a small bag, and stepped carefully over the numerous people sleeping on the field. The Fields were always crowded. The field on the other side of the village is said to be more luxurious, but no one knows how true or false it is.

P left the field and walked down the road to the village. A few flickering lamps could still be seen at this hour. Beyond the village the ghostly outline of the Castle, atop the hill was barely visible on this foggy, cold, dark night. He had still to decide where to go. He had hoped that the long lonely walk on the road would help him in making that decision. But, presently, he was more busy shivering because of the cold and out of fear too. The fear wasn’t because of the dark night and the lonely road. He was actually enjoying it. He was afraid that he still hadn’t decided where to go and the village was approaching.

P was chilled to the bone by the time he reached the main road of the village. A wild idea now struck him and he toyed with it hoping that it would keep his mind off the disturbing fact that he didn’t know where to go. The idea was to go to the Castle and that night itself! It wasn’t forbidden to go to the Castle. Infact P did consider, going there, the previous morning. There is also nothing wrong with going to the Castle in the night, though it is not customary. But …….

“Hey traveller. Why don’t you come inside? It is cold out there”, said a man looking out of a window. Was it out of pity? Or was it to earn some money or worse still was it to rob P?

“I’m going somewhere”, replied P even as he was considering accepting the offer and walked toward the wall under the window.

“But, why do you have to go somewhere?”

P didn’t reply. He walked to the wall and looked up at the man at the window. A few moments passed without any one speaking anything. Finally, the man sensing that P didn’t really want to come in, said, “You can atleast spend the night here. You can go somewhere in the morning. It is very cold and you are shivering.”

“I’m going to the castle.”, said P as he turned away and started walking down the road.

“But, you are going down the wrong ro..”, the man’s voice faded away in P’s joy at finally deciding on his destination, at least for now.

A few hours later, atleast it seemed to P like a few hours, P was at the foot of the hill. As he climbed up the road, he reflected on what made him decide to go to the Castle. Was it because the thick walls of the Castle would shelter him from the cold better? Surely not. It cannot that cold in the village. Was it that the grimy wall under the window turned him away from the village? No, P didn’t recall being disgusted or having similar feelings when at the wall, though he was somewhat annoyed. But, was the annoyance with the grimy wall or the pestering man or with himself? Or…

P had just turned at a corner of the winding road and the brilliant rising sun glowed on him. P then decided to postpone his reflections to enjoy the scenery.

A Thesis on NSAMHRP

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized, Writing by yossarian on 10 November, 2006

“So whats your thesis on”?

“Well its got something to do with Nonlinear stochastic adaptive modeling of …”

They had finally reached the counter. The queue was unusually long today. The canteen at the Mooshika avenue is the best in the campus and attracts a huge crowd at lunch time. It is located below ground level with a dome made of glass at the top. Sunlight filters through the glass creating fantastic patterns, fractals and famous equations and formulae. It is said that between 3:00 and 3:20 pm the image of the great Bingo Mooshika can be seen at the center of the canteen.

They had finally managed to get a place to sit. The famous equation A = BC2 filtered through the glass above onto their table. They opened their food packets made of cloth. This canteen serves one of the best cheese and the cloth packet is quite clean too and most eat the cloth as well. The cloth has high fibrous content.

“Yes. It is to do with Nonlinear stochastic adaptive modeling of human religious practises.”

“Whoa. That’s something.”

“Yes. Sounds big. Infact the actual title is even longer. It is only a subclass of humans that we are studying. It is a very interesting field.”

“So what do you do? What religious practsises do you study?”

“Our work is very specific and is concerned with just one practise. A very interesting one it is, actually. Even more interesting is that it is spreading like wildfire the world over and especially in this country. What they do is – each day in the morning , they come and sit in their boxes. There is a sacred stone, of roughly our size, on each of their tables. They hold this sacred stone with their hand, usually their right but i have seen some holding it with their left also, and they keep moving it for hours, all the while staring blankly at the wall in front. Most of these humans do it for atleast 9 to 10 hours daily with a few breaks in between. The ones in our country keep doing it for 14 to 16 hours a day. They do it each and every day!!”

“Insane, is all I have to say. These humans are crazy.”

“A few years back some maverick sociologists claimed that the practise actually has some biological and social significance and that it is not some religious practise as such. But our work conclusively proves that all those claims are crap.”

“So what did you do? I mean any experiments?”

“Oh yes. Extensive experiments. One of the largest experiments to be ever conducted on humans. We have a huge lab at the outskirts of the city. IT PARC is its name. Intensive Technisch Prufung Amano Religious Cratise.”

“What was that?”

“It is actually a joint project by our country, the Germans and the Kakrafoons. So had to accomodate each one in the lab’s name. Anyway, so we have got some forty thousand humans. We take extreme care not to disturb them. State of the art technology mousy, state of the art. Those sociologists I was talking about, they had simply fabricated their data. They show all sorts of pictures which they claim depicts the motion of the sacred stone in some crappy abstract space. I say they could have earned more money and fame showing off their pictures in an art gallery. Atleast they look better than the modern art of Moofa H.S.N. I mean what order can you find in the movements of the SS, I am sorry the sacred stone. We call it SS.”

“Ok”

“It is simply random. We tried all sorts of expeiments. To just give you an example, we tried to find if the motions of SS by human H1 is in any way coupled to those by H2, H3, or any number of them. We did try up to 50 humans and we just gave up. No order. No patterns. No fractals. No jargon. That is what it is. Mousys haven’t been looking in the right direction. All the mousys just want some instant fame and the easiest way out is to use fancy words like order, patterns, fractals what not? I am not saying it cannot be studied or described. We have done it. All that I am saying is all these mousys take a human or two and try to get some results. They don’t obviously get any results because they look in the wrong direction. Then they take some data from experiments which don’t make sense at all and try their best to find patterns.”

“Ok boss. Tell me what you mousys have done.”

“Alright. Alright. First and foremost, it should be recognised that empirical observations show you that SS motion is random. So trying to study the causes of individual movements is futile. You have to study the SS movements en masse. Mousys have tried to find all sorts of exotic linear models. You have to realize that it is a highly nonlinear system. We also do not assume the exact form of the nonlinear model a priori. We have 42 parameters in the model that have been adaptively found over a course of experiments spanning two years. Then finally we depicted our results in a 52 dimensional Jerry space. I see that you are growing impatient or else I would have given a more detailed description of it.”

“Ofcourse. That is more food for thought than I can digest in day.”

And our friends leave the canteen just as Bingo Mooshika is filtered through the glass dome. Strangely, for it has never been seen before, there is a mysterious smile on his face.

Bend It Like P

Posted in Humor, Travails Of A Young Sportsman, Writing by yossarian on 30 June, 2006

Ram Avatar was our new sports instructor. At first, we were relieved that we had been relieved from our previous sports instructor, Rathi. This new instructor, in the first games period of the year, came to our class and started lecturing us on football, it’s rules, strategies etc. We, students already tired from 5 hours of classes in the day were itching to go out and play. This was probably the only games period in our whole lives that we ever hated. So, Mr. Avatar’s ratings took a deep plunge in his first week itself.

For a few weeks, he spared us his gyan and let us play. Then suddenly one week, he announced that he would test us in the sport of our choice. Having already experienced his ways of spreading gyan, we were very apprehensive of the form the test could take. But it turned out he had better sense than we expected.

He took us out of the class and queued us on the road ( it is more of a small lane, with the school building and our mess on either side of it ). He placed three balls, a basketball, a volleyball, and a football infront of us. He asked each one of us in turn to choose one of them and demonstrate some skills of that sport.

I was 3rd in the line. When my turn came, my decision was very easy. I had chosen the football, for a few very well thought out reasons. Firstly, the first two hadn’t chosen the football. Secondly, and more importantly, both volleyball and baskeball, the sports not the balls themselves, were alien to me. Finally and most importantly, because of the topography around. As I have mentioned already, it is a small lane, on the one side there was the school building, on the other trees and our mess building. So, one would have expected any sane person A not ask a person B to demonstrate his skills in kicking or shooting a football in such a place, for the kicked or the shot football might crash into one of the numerous windows around.

So, that was my choice, an intelligent choice, a choice that would force the instructor to ask me to choose one of the other two, which as I have mentioned were alien to me and so could not be tested upon, and which would allow me to get away from the test without being tested.

But obviously, I hadn’t taken into consideration the already mentioned ways of spreading gyan of our instructor. This additional piece of information breaks down the whole analysis that has been presented above. This is because (the careful reader would have already observed it) the whole analysis depends on person A being sane. So, my instructor being person A in this model, the whole thing breaks down.

So, I was asked by Mr. Avatar, contrary to the AB theory’s predictions, to shoot the ball. I was disappointed that such a complete theory could not stand for more than a few seconds. Well, I had to shoot. I didn’t know where to shoot it at.

Often while learning something, we are told to free our minds, meaning, not to be nervous and to let our instincts rule us, which quite often has remarkable results. So, that is what I did. I freed my mind. I let my instincts rule me. And I kicked the football. And I must say the results, both short term and long term, were truly remarkable.

First I’ll mention the short term effects. I had never and will probably never be able to bend it like that. I am sure even the over hyped up Beckham could never bend it so much. The ball after leaving my right foot, took a trajectory as shown in the figure below and hit Mr. Avatar staright in his face. The immediate reactions of all the people around, are too tough to be reproduced here. The arrow in the figure, indicates Mr. Avatar.

bilp.jpg

Now for the long term effects. My father was asked to visit Mr. Avatar to hear about a child who had gone astray in his life. But that was not an imporatant consequence. The most important consequence was that Mr. Avatar had since then stopped with his experimentation in coaching. This incident had taught me something that I couldn’t learn for more than 3 years in school, despite the best efforts of my teachers. ‘A stitch in time saves nine’. Never let things go out of control.

Kaw Kaw The Grey

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Writing by yossarian on 13 June, 2006

The readers are reminded that the happenings of this story are set in 100 N.E ( 2106 in the old reckoning ).

You can catch up with the previous installment of this story here.

Meanwhile, not so far away from the cafeteria of the National University, on a tree not so tall, were sitting three crows. Among them was a crow, deep grey in colour. “Kraw krow kraaw kroow”. This wasn’t the sound of one of those silencer less scooters, running on oil. Yes, oil, vehicles running on oil were still in vogue in the campus of the National University. This was the sound of the inspired words of wisdom flowing from the grey crow, Kaw Kaw The Grey. Considering the audience of this text, the author has taken great pains to translate these words spoken in crow language into human language in the best possible way.

“It is all in the mind.”, said Kaw Kaw The Grey. The disciple crows had seen KKTG shit on a human the previous day. They were simply baffled by what they had seen. All their lives, they had always shit at a shittery. All their lives they had never seen a crow shit at any place other than at a shittery. Some of their kin had called KKTG’s indulgence an act of sacrilege. But they knew better. They viewed it as the ultimate act of free will. It could even provide a meaning, an aim to their directionless lives.

KKTG was now saying, “We shall start with the mediation classes tommorrow. Remember, this is THE PATH, the only path, to all the answers to all the questions, to spiritual enlightenment, to freedom.”

The news of the sacrilege spread like wild fire. The next day, there were 3 more disciple crows. The next day 5 more, the next day 8 more, the next day 13 more and so on. Among these disciples, 13 were very dear to KKTG. They alongwith KKTG himself, came to be known as The Fellowship.

Whose Revolution?

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Writing by yossarian on 12 June, 2006

You can read The Beginnings Of A Revolution – II if you haven’t already.

“Marvellous. This looks so similar to the Mandelbrot set.”, said Ian seldon, Professor emeritus, Department of Mathematics, National University, beaming with excitement. He continued, “I wonder if we can model and simulate this. We could consider ….. the walking speed of the kid, his height, …… the height at which the crow is sitting. Different patterns for different initial conditions. It should be very interesting.”

“I don’t care what it looks like or if you can simulate it or not”, replied the very agitated Doc. “The fact remains that this is crow shit”, pointing to the photo of He’s shirt on which a crow had shit the previous day, “and it could be dangerous”. The tests in the lab had confirmed that it was indeed crow shit.

“Calm down my friend. My mother used to tell me stories of crows shitting on people in my childhood. I never believed those stories, but over the years I have come to believe that it is quite possible.”, said Ian.

“But did a crow ever shit on you in your whole life, or did you ever hear of somebody being shit on, leaving out the stories your mother told you?”, asked the agitated Doc. “One would think the laws of our world are breaking down.”

“The laws of the world are perfect.”, replied Ian.

“Then why would crows shit on people and not at a shittery?”.

“The laws will lead to only one logical outcome.”

“What? What outcome?”

“Revolution.”, replied Ian.

“Whose Revolution?”, asked the Doc, partly confused, partly agitated, partly irritated.

“That, my friend, is the right question.” Blog terminated.

Author’s Note

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Writing by yossarian on 6 June, 2006

As I said in the introductory blog of Crow Shit Chronicles, I had considered various names for this series of blogs, two of them being ‘A Feast For Crows’ and ‘Crow Shit Series’. I didn’t use the first one because I didn’t want to get into any plagiarism controversies. The second one sounds like Crow Shit and so dropped it.

When I say it sounds like crow shit, I don’t mean the ‘plop’ sound that one hears when a crow shits. I also don’t refer to the sound produced when one pronounces ‘crow shit’, which ofcourse it does if you leave out ‘series’. If one sees a book with a title ‘Crow Shit Series’, his first reaction would definitely be something like ‘Aheoughreee’. Those of you, who are unfortunate enough to have been shit on by a crow at some point of your life, will fortunately recognise the complex feelings that one has immediately after being shit on by a crow, which is followed by something like ‘Aheoughreee’ emanating from the mouth of the person in question, which in turn is followed by another set of complex feelings. I am refering to such feelings one has on hearing ‘Crow Shit Series’.

Those of you who are fortunate enough not to have ever been shit on by a crow unfortunately cannot recognise the feelings being talked about here, and hence will have to take my word when I say the feelings ‘sound’ like crow shit. All hope is not lost for you, because, this work attempts to convey those complex feelings just talked about.

Enjoy.

CSC Page

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Uncategorized, Writing by yossarian on 5 June, 2006

Crow Shit Chronicles is developing into a very interesting idea. So, obviously, I might feel the need to edit some of the earlier posts or rearrange the posts to create something which is even better to read.

The chronology of ‘revelations’ may not be the right chronology for telling this epic story. But the chronology of the divine ‘revelations’ cannot be tampered with, just to satisfy the whims of a story teller. So, I have decided not to change the order of the ‘revelations’ on this blog. But to satisfy the whims of a story teller, I have arranged the links to posts on the index page to have the epic story in a form best for story telling.

The Beginnings Of A Revolution – II

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Writing by yossarian on 5 June, 2006

If you wish to read the previous part of this story. Here it is.

At the Doctor’s:

” Hello. …. Nice design sir. ….Actually, I am a great fan of fractal art. ……I have got a big collection of …”, said the doc., before his welcome greetings were abruptly disrupted by Domar, who thought it best to nip the doc’s welcome greetings in the bud, than to repent after being tortured for about 13 minutes by the Doc’s speech on fractal art.

The disruption by Domar went something like this, ” Er.., er…, er……., DOCTOR“, starting as a murmur and ending in a scream. The true picture can be understood only if one combines the dialogues of the doc and Domar. ( Directions for combination: put in the words of Domar, ex: ‘Er’, in the first ….. appearing in the doc’s speech, then ‘er’ in the …. before ‘Actually’ in the doc’s speech and etc. ). Having the doc’s attention now, Domar brought his volume down to a more respectable level. He said, ” Er.., Doctor, actually, it is not an art form on my friend’s shirt, it is crow shit”.

Then, there was no speech from either party for the next two minutes. To a naive mind, this would defenitely have seemed very strange considering the eagerness with which each party wanted to exercise their vocal chords in the recent past. A N.M observing this situation would have called it – ‘the lull before the storm’. But no. The Doc didn’t speak because he couldn’t. The Doc couldn’t because, his brain wouldn’t let him. His brain wouldn’t let him because, it couldn’t. Well, to cut a long story short, his brain was too busy going through a wide range of feelings, it just didn’t have the processing power to let him speak. Even if it had that extra processing power to let him speak he would have only moved his mouth without making a sound ( which in the strict sense is not called speaking anyway ), which he was infact doing presently, because, his brain didn’t have the processing power to think of what to speak. Such was his condition. Domar didn’t speak because he was too embarrassed to do so. And He was in a state of near coma.

For completeness’ sake, the Doc’s range of feelings are being listed here.

Sympathy, Hatred, Rage, Fear, and a hundred other feelings which cannot be described by a single word, lets just call them Others.

Below is a description of his feelings as a function of time.

SSSSHHHHRRRRFFFOOOSSOOFFOOSSHHRROOOSSOSOOSOSRRFFOSSSS.

Then finally, the Doc managed to speak: “Crows shit at a shittery”. He then spoke for the first time at the Doc’s ( his teeth clattering all the while ): “No sir. This really is crow shit. You can test it if you want”.

The Doc, after about 100 unsuccessful attempts to convince the visitors that crows shit at a shittery, that if what He described was true then it was against the laws of the nature, and so on, finally agreed to take He’s shirt and subject it to some lab tests. This, the Doc did, not because he was convinced that it was crow shit, not out of sympathy, but out of concern for his own well being, for what if whatever He said was indeed true? Is it safe to be in the same room as someone who has just been shit on by a crow? Is it safe to breathe the same air that He was breathing? Being a good doctor, the Doc decided that it was in the larger interests of humanity to test the stuff and more importantly, to get rid of He and his friend immediately from his own vicinity.

The Beginnings Of A Revolution – I

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Writing by yossarian on 5 June, 2006

Year: 100 N.E ( 2056 in the old reckoning )

” You are late”. As he came closer, he 2 said, “And what the shit have you got on your shirt? Is that supposed to be some new fashion or something?”.

” No. As you said, it is shit, crow shit”, said he (by the way his name was He ( to be pronounced as ‘he’ and not as ‘hey’), He Ha, to be precise ), visibly upset, infact more than upset. He’s eyes were popping out, staring at nothing, focussing at no distance or at all distances. His whole body was rigid and he was moving like a zombie. He ( the pronoun or the proper noun, which ever you like), was sweating like a polar bear would, if it ever visited the Sahara desert and was shivering like a camel would, if it ever visited Antarctica.
“What nonsense. Crows shit at a shittery”. said he 2 ( by the way his name was Damor Kidki ).

“I know that. But this crow that shit on me was probably a mutant or something. You can touch it or taste it if you want, but believe me, i am telling you the truth”, said He. Domar, who even now thought it was some sort of a design didn’t want to risk touching even He let alone the the C.S, for what if He was really telling the truth. So Domar said, “You don’t look good at all. Let’s go see a doctor. Who knows what toxic chemicals these crows shit”.

Crow Shit Chronicles

Posted in Crow Shit Chronicles, Humor, Uncategorized, Writing by yossarian on 5 June, 2006

crow.jpg

 

I have started a new category – Crow Shit Chronicles, inspired by innumerable Near Death Experiences I have had while dodging the carpet bombing from the heavens above, which is a regular feature of the weather in our campus. I envy all those crows on the lush green trees of our campus, whose only aim in life seems to be to shit on as many people for as many times as possible. I don’t envy them because they try to shit on as many people for as many times as possible, but because they have such simple aims in life ( from their perspective ofcourse. For poor souls as myself, their aims and sports are a mortal danger).

This work is dedicated to all those unsuspecting souls who ( or should I be using which ) have been tormented for ages by such sports which harm the delicate peace and balance of our nature.

PS: I considered naming the category and the series of the blogs that are to follow as ‘ A Feast For Crows ‘, or ‘Crow Shit Series’ but finally settled to ‘Crow Shit Chronicles’. Let’s see if it needs to be renamed as the ‘revealed’ chronicles are published on this blog. Suggestions are welcome.