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.
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.
I am starting a new category today, which goes by the same name as that of this post. The posts in this category will be based on my experiences at school ( roughly between 6th and 12th standard ( for all those morons who try to ape the U.S in every small thing, 6th and 12th grade)), generally related with sports or games, or on those experiences that caused some trouble.
Since FIFA worldcup is in progress, I'll start with football. To be more precise with an incident in my 8th std., which, had Gurinder Chadha been a witness to, would have led her, GC , to name her movie as 'Bend It Like (Well, You Know Who)', instead of that good sounding, but not so appropriate 'Bend It Like Beckham'.
PS: This doesn't mean it is an end to CSC. Crow Shit Chronicles will be back soon.
PPS: I have got this bad cold tonight. So, the first post will have to wait a little longer.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
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.
I have recently joined orkut community and it seems to be very interesting. If you visit somebody's profile, it shows a chain of friends at the top, the first one in this chain being youself, then one of your friends, then one of his, and so on till the person whose page or profile you are looking at.
Now, that is really interesting. So, I went to the search page and opened profiles of people at random, and surprisingly the chains had 5 or 6 people in most of the cases. Out of 49 randomly chosen people, only two of them were connected by a chain of 7. I have only 2 friends, so there was already a big handicap on my side of the chain. In my sample space, there were 26 Indians and 23 foreigners ( all Brazilian, probably leaving out 2 ). Out of 23 foreigners, only 2 had a chain with me. But 23 out of 26 Indians had a chain with me and that includes many with 1 or 2 friends only. I have put the results in this pdf file. The first column shows the number of friends the person has and the second column, the number of people in the chain connecting us.
So Orkut ( or Google ) must be doing some sort of shortest path search. But the Orkut web has millions of members. So how does orkut do this in such a short time? ( it probably searches among those of the same country first and so on ). But remember, one can join the orkut community only through invitation. SO, this probably helps orkut in maintaining a sort of hierarchy among the members, and this could very well be the feature that minimizes the search time drastically.
I salute to the ideas generated at Google.