Perturbation theory comprises mathematical methods to find approximate solutions to problems in mechanics. Even though the only maths involved is the application of the three equations of motion and the Newton's Second Law statement (f=ma), it is impossible, in most real cases to find the exact solution to a problem in dynamics.
Case in point, the Coriolis force. Due to the earth's rotation, a body experiences a force that is proportional to velocity in a direction perpendicular to it's velocity. Consider a body freely falling at the equator from a reasonable vertical height, say a kilometre. Even with the usual, almost unreal simplification of assuming that air resistance is absent, it is impossible to find the exact position of the body, theoretically, when it reaches the ground. Here's why.
The Coriolis force acts on the body towards east, increasing linearly with the velocity. Now, the Coriolis force slightly changes the direction and magnitude of velocity, which again changes the Coriolis force, which again changes velocity. This goes on back and forth infinitely, and simply cannot be solved without an approximation.
We take care of the big force, the gravity. Then consider Coriolis force once only, assuming the effect of the force itself doesn't cause more perturbation. We find the deflection to be very small, and using this fact justify the neglect of the next order application of Coriolis force.
Ha!
Sounds like life doesn't it. You consider all the big factors. The ones that have the largest consequence. Try some smaller things. To a level. Justify avoiding other small tasks. Hobbies. So many things we can do but of little consequence. Do we have to do them?
The facts of the matter is the small factors, at least in mechanics, don't amplify, or consolidate the large factors. Instead, they perturb it. Actually come in the way of what would otherwise be smooth, neat, and mathematically elegant motion. With all associated mathematics straight-forward and explicit.
Life differs there though. The small things clear our minds. Refresh us. Allow us to elegantly perform the tasks higher on the priority list.
And those are two things I've learnt after joining university and beginning my life in hostel.
Not all analogies make sense. Not all analogies are true. There is no poetic brilliance in comparing anything to anything. The way my lectures assume you can draw analogies between large lorries trying to pass each other with electron clouds sterically hindering each other. Not everything goes, even in the liberal world of poetry and/or teaching.
Second, the small things are extremely crucial. The creative aspect is essential for clarity in thought. Without physical activity, something to transiently distract you from the burden you carry, sustained effort is nearly impossible.
Writing this blog gives me immense pleasure. And helps me study as well.
Win-win, no perturbations.
Physicist, climate scientist, armchair patriot. Interested in test cricket, Indian politics, history. Aspiring polyglot. Rarely opinionated.
Nov 7, 2013
Sep 25, 2013
Anti-Gallileo
I don't believe Copernicus and Galileo and Newton and every common man alive today. Church for the win. Heck, the Sun goes around the Earth. I see it everyday. When it comes close, its summer, when its far, its winter. The Earth is the centre. And I snort in derision when you tell me the Earth rotates around its own axis. I am right here, sitting still, not feeling dizzy.
Recently, my University (yes, I'm in university now) took us to the IUCAA, Pune, an Astronomy centre, for a lecture on the Sun (which goes around the earth), preceded as well as succeeded by a visit to the "Foucault Pendulum". To see first hand, how the pendulum shifts as the earth rotates. Confused?
Look this up.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foucault_pendulum
In essence, the Foucault Pendulum is simply a long pendulum which is, by some mechanism, made to oscillate without any damping. The Principle is that the plane of oscillation of the pendulum doesn't change even as the earth rotates, thus creating the illusion that the pendulum has changed its orientation of rotation but in fact it is the Earth under the pendulum that has rotated.
Scandalous! Absolutely PREPOSTEROUS!
Despite being educated in a "Helio-Centric Model" of the Solar System since I can remember, my mind still sniffs something devious at work when I see the pendulum changing its orientation. (Oops, the pendulum staying there and earth going round).
Of course, I'm a practical man. I'm studying pure science, I had better believe that the Earth goes around the Sun. I still feel there's something dark at play. Some witch-craft. Somebody's propaganda.
If the idea that the pendulum stays there and the whole building and the floor moves after a lecture of an hour and a half is so very indigestible to my mind, I can't imagine what the men of the time must have felt when Galileo and Copernicus propounded that the Sun is the centre. You almost sympathise with the desire of the people to burn them alive. For corrupting the minds of the public.
It is indeed to their credit, that not only did they dare to think what they saw was false and misleading, which is itself a result of great insight and probably unparalleled genius, but they actually had the bloody guts to tell the people what they felt. The balls to go public with their views. They were probably unaware of the sensitivity of what they were saying. Unaware that the truth could injure all those who believed their eyes.
Today, nearly half a millennium later, when humanity is daring to go to other planets regularly, when there exist massive machines worth billions and billions simply to help us discover what is inside the nucleus, when theories that claim to explain everything, every single thing are being devised, we still are repelled by the idea of believing something our eyes don't tell us.
They saw it then.
Recently, my University (yes, I'm in university now) took us to the IUCAA, Pune, an Astronomy centre, for a lecture on the Sun (which goes around the earth), preceded as well as succeeded by a visit to the "Foucault Pendulum". To see first hand, how the pendulum shifts as the earth rotates. Confused?
Look this up.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foucault_pendulum
In essence, the Foucault Pendulum is simply a long pendulum which is, by some mechanism, made to oscillate without any damping. The Principle is that the plane of oscillation of the pendulum doesn't change even as the earth rotates, thus creating the illusion that the pendulum has changed its orientation of rotation but in fact it is the Earth under the pendulum that has rotated.
Scandalous! Absolutely PREPOSTEROUS!
Despite being educated in a "Helio-Centric Model" of the Solar System since I can remember, my mind still sniffs something devious at work when I see the pendulum changing its orientation. (Oops, the pendulum staying there and earth going round).
Of course, I'm a practical man. I'm studying pure science, I had better believe that the Earth goes around the Sun. I still feel there's something dark at play. Some witch-craft. Somebody's propaganda.
If the idea that the pendulum stays there and the whole building and the floor moves after a lecture of an hour and a half is so very indigestible to my mind, I can't imagine what the men of the time must have felt when Galileo and Copernicus propounded that the Sun is the centre. You almost sympathise with the desire of the people to burn them alive. For corrupting the minds of the public.
It is indeed to their credit, that not only did they dare to think what they saw was false and misleading, which is itself a result of great insight and probably unparalleled genius, but they actually had the bloody guts to tell the people what they felt. The balls to go public with their views. They were probably unaware of the sensitivity of what they were saying. Unaware that the truth could injure all those who believed their eyes.
Today, nearly half a millennium later, when humanity is daring to go to other planets regularly, when there exist massive machines worth billions and billions simply to help us discover what is inside the nucleus, when theories that claim to explain everything, every single thing are being devised, we still are repelled by the idea of believing something our eyes don't tell us.
They saw it then.
Aug 28, 2013
Opportunistic Beginning
Opportunism is, in my constantly changing opinion, the most important trait in a person. It is not the fastest, the smartest or the brightest who make it furthest and highest, but the most opportunistic.
Optimism is simply hoping for the best, finding hope in the direst of situation. It's good, but over-rated. At the end of the day, nothing happens in the mind apart from the mere ground-work. Creating constructive activity out of a plan gone wrong is far better than telling yourself that it isn't quite that bad after all. Which, in turn, is better than ruing over it, followed by a prediction that the rest of your life will contain several similar instances of failed plans which you inferred from the fact that your life till now has been so. Well, so has most of ours.
So, it is on a quite boastful note that I tell you, my (sparse) readership that I wasn't supposed to be free right now. My college literary club called for the third meeting of the year, the first two of which I had missed. The email was curt, crisp, and requested us to bring a pen and paper.
After wandering the corridors with a pen, paper and tired hands, I revisited the email to find that the date mentioned was that of yesterday. Oh Drat!
The perennial opportunist that I am though, I thought I will use the time to finally write an extensive post about my first month at a new college, a residential college.
Hostel life is new and strange to me. Strengthening my initial claim about the mind having a small role to play is the fact that it did take me quite a time to adjust despite my nearly two-year long preparation (mental) for living in a hostel.
To be fair to myself, like I always am, I've done a fair job so far. Signing up for several clubs, attending class diligently, tackling my first bout of illness away from home without breaking down, finding new friends, eating the mess meals without causing them to defy gravity, improving the fluency of my Hindi, attending cricket practice (which I've pragmatically decided to quit), reading books and in the midst of this, studying as well as having fun. Phew! Now I'm finally updating my blog.
The first week when I arrived here, it was like a splash of cold water on the face. Startling but rejuvenating, It was a blaze. Like life had suddenly decided to become vivid. A sea of new people, a crowd of boys and girls just like me, a campus that was like a world within a world, a city within a world. And for me, a life within a life.
So, it is on a quite boastful note that I tell you, my (sparse) readership that I wasn't supposed to be free right now. My college literary club called for the third meeting of the year, the first two of which I had missed. The email was curt, crisp, and requested us to bring a pen and paper.
After wandering the corridors with a pen, paper and tired hands, I revisited the email to find that the date mentioned was that of yesterday. Oh Drat!
The perennial opportunist that I am though, I thought I will use the time to finally write an extensive post about my first month at a new college, a residential college.
Hostel life is new and strange to me. Strengthening my initial claim about the mind having a small role to play is the fact that it did take me quite a time to adjust despite my nearly two-year long preparation (mental) for living in a hostel.
To be fair to myself, like I always am, I've done a fair job so far. Signing up for several clubs, attending class diligently, tackling my first bout of illness away from home without breaking down, finding new friends, eating the mess meals without causing them to defy gravity, improving the fluency of my Hindi, attending cricket practice (which I've pragmatically decided to quit), reading books and in the midst of this, studying as well as having fun. Phew! Now I'm finally updating my blog.
The first week when I arrived here, it was like a splash of cold water on the face. Startling but rejuvenating, It was a blaze. Like life had suddenly decided to become vivid. A sea of new people, a crowd of boys and girls just like me, a campus that was like a world within a world, a city within a world. And for me, a life within a life.
It will be for another 4 years at least, barring spectacular events, good and bad.
And now, nearly a month into the new academic year, my new life, what was exciting and fascinating has now become mundane, monotonous. Well not quite everything. I refer simply to the hostel life, living on my own. Keeping track of my clothes in the everlasting cycle of wearing, washing and drying. Adjusting the timing of my bathing and morning pilgrimages so as to least inconvenience others as well as myself. It's a fine balancing act.
And you end up picking up unique skill sets. I, for one, have learnt how to eat keeping taste buds inactive. When a sense organ constantly lends negative feedback, it learns to shut down gradually at the right time. As my tongue does when it sees the same mess food on the plate.
I can wake up half an hour before class and magically end up in class on time, dressed completely, stomach full. A super-power I've acquired in this month.
Hostel life is slowly yet steadily shaping me. I can see it, but I cannot stop it. The wonderful environment buzzing with like-minded souls has a mesmerising effect, the first time I have ever been a part of an institute of such a large scale. I'd love to go through the first month all over again.
It makes you selfish, highly competitive, opens your eyes to cultures of your country that you never knew. Above all, it makes you opportunistic.
Right now, it makes me glad that I ventured out of my comfort zone, away from my beloved Bangalore.
And now, nearly a month into the new academic year, my new life, what was exciting and fascinating has now become mundane, monotonous. Well not quite everything. I refer simply to the hostel life, living on my own. Keeping track of my clothes in the everlasting cycle of wearing, washing and drying. Adjusting the timing of my bathing and morning pilgrimages so as to least inconvenience others as well as myself. It's a fine balancing act.
And you end up picking up unique skill sets. I, for one, have learnt how to eat keeping taste buds inactive. When a sense organ constantly lends negative feedback, it learns to shut down gradually at the right time. As my tongue does when it sees the same mess food on the plate.
I can wake up half an hour before class and magically end up in class on time, dressed completely, stomach full. A super-power I've acquired in this month.
Hostel life is slowly yet steadily shaping me. I can see it, but I cannot stop it. The wonderful environment buzzing with like-minded souls has a mesmerising effect, the first time I have ever been a part of an institute of such a large scale. I'd love to go through the first month all over again.
It makes you selfish, highly competitive, opens your eyes to cultures of your country that you never knew. Above all, it makes you opportunistic.
Right now, it makes me glad that I ventured out of my comfort zone, away from my beloved Bangalore.
Aug 14, 2013
Conversation with a loved one
M is Me
LO is my loved one.
M: Hi
LO: Hi. Ssup?
M: Nm. I love you
LO: I love you too
M: I really miss you since I left
LO: Hmmm, I didn't know you had left
M: But you said you love me. And you didn't even realise?
LO: Many people love me like you. I love many people like you.
M: Haven't you realised I'm gone even once for the past 2 weeks?
LO: Now that you mention it, I remember faintly that you haven't been near me for some time.
M: How does it feel?
LO: Doesn't make a real difference to me to be honest. I just miss you cycling around me, or just looking at me, silently admiring my beauty.
M: Ha! So you do remember me!
LO: Yes, it's coming back.
M: How you doing?
LO: Still the same. I'm not as beautiful as before, not as friendly and inviting. I still am me though, and that is something.
M: That sounds quite arrogant.
LO: It's an arrogance that comes with experience.
M: Anything new?
LO: Haha, are you seriously asking me this question? There's something new to me everyday. But it's all still the same. I don't change drastically. Looks like you're the one forgetting me.
M: No, I think of you everyday.
LO: I'll take your word for it. I can see you're changing. Pune is making you different.
M: Yes, every place has it's characteristic. And I'm alone, not sheltered by you.
LO: It's the people who leave me who say I change. It's the people who come into my life that make me change. Yet, I'm the same, the people change. Ironic isn't it?
M: This philosophy you give me goes over my head. You always surprise me and confuse me. But everyone still loves you.
LO: Yes, I've taught many people many things, often the hard way. But it's the reason I exist. I make others better so they can live better with me.
M: I really miss your influence.
LO: What's your name again?
M: Ha! You claim you love me and you don't even know my name. It's Lokahith.
LO: You'd know if you were in my place. People living with me abuse me, curse me all the time. But the instant I'm not there, they're all cribbing. They want me back. You're not like that I know. You loved me throughout. So I just liked to watch you go around. We never really had an introduction.
M: Thank You! That's the greatest compliment. Of everyone, I miss you the most.
LO: So how is this Pune? Already taken my place in your heart?
M: Never. I really miss you. I can't live without you. At every opportunity I'll be zooming back to you. You have defined me, led me, and made me. All the while I never knew that. I just thought you were beautiful. But leaving you has given me a new perspective.
LO: That's nice to hear.
M: I'm coming in October, back to you. Back to Bangalore City.
LO is my loved one.
M: Hi
LO: Hi. Ssup?
M: Nm. I love you
LO: I love you too
M: I really miss you since I left
LO: Hmmm, I didn't know you had left
M: But you said you love me. And you didn't even realise?
LO: Many people love me like you. I love many people like you.
M: Haven't you realised I'm gone even once for the past 2 weeks?
LO: Now that you mention it, I remember faintly that you haven't been near me for some time.
M: How does it feel?
LO: Doesn't make a real difference to me to be honest. I just miss you cycling around me, or just looking at me, silently admiring my beauty.
M: Ha! So you do remember me!
LO: Yes, it's coming back.
M: How you doing?
LO: Still the same. I'm not as beautiful as before, not as friendly and inviting. I still am me though, and that is something.
M: That sounds quite arrogant.
LO: It's an arrogance that comes with experience.
M: Anything new?
LO: Haha, are you seriously asking me this question? There's something new to me everyday. But it's all still the same. I don't change drastically. Looks like you're the one forgetting me.
M: No, I think of you everyday.
LO: I'll take your word for it. I can see you're changing. Pune is making you different.
M: Yes, every place has it's characteristic. And I'm alone, not sheltered by you.
LO: It's the people who leave me who say I change. It's the people who come into my life that make me change. Yet, I'm the same, the people change. Ironic isn't it?
M: This philosophy you give me goes over my head. You always surprise me and confuse me. But everyone still loves you.
LO: Yes, I've taught many people many things, often the hard way. But it's the reason I exist. I make others better so they can live better with me.
M: I really miss your influence.
LO: What's your name again?
M: Ha! You claim you love me and you don't even know my name. It's Lokahith.
LO: You'd know if you were in my place. People living with me abuse me, curse me all the time. But the instant I'm not there, they're all cribbing. They want me back. You're not like that I know. You loved me throughout. So I just liked to watch you go around. We never really had an introduction.
M: Thank You! That's the greatest compliment. Of everyone, I miss you the most.
LO: So how is this Pune? Already taken my place in your heart?
M: Never. I really miss you. I can't live without you. At every opportunity I'll be zooming back to you. You have defined me, led me, and made me. All the while I never knew that. I just thought you were beautiful. But leaving you has given me a new perspective.
LO: That's nice to hear.
M: I'm coming in October, back to you. Back to Bangalore City.
Aug 7, 2013
Perceptions of Pune
After a two year long grind to end my school life, I can emerge from this period of life with a lot to reflect on. Good, bad and ugly.
And I'm fortunate to be able to say, the good slightly overshadows the ugly and the bad in my profile.
At the top of the good chart are two stand-out moments. The 2nd prize in the all India essay competition, which has been extensively discussed earlier on this blog, and clearing the IITJEE in it's new avatar, JEE Advanced.
By virtue of which I sit right now on my comfortable bed in my new hostel, in a new city (Pune) and in a new institute (Indian Institute of Science, Education and Research, Pune), pursuing a BS-MS integrated five year course.
A new innings of my life that I am intently looking forward to and for the few days that I have experienced it, one that I am thoroughly enjoying. And while the larger part of the city is still one large mystery to me, I am so certain that it has exciting avenues, simply lying in wait for me to discover and enjoy.
My perception of the little I have seen is "Comfortable" and the perception of that which I haven't seen could be described as "tantalizing". On the whole, if the experience turns out to be "enjoyable" and "challenging", I will have got what I bargained for.
Kindly join me in wishing myself a great Pune experience.
And I'm fortunate to be able to say, the good slightly overshadows the ugly and the bad in my profile.
At the top of the good chart are two stand-out moments. The 2nd prize in the all India essay competition, which has been extensively discussed earlier on this blog, and clearing the IITJEE in it's new avatar, JEE Advanced.
By virtue of which I sit right now on my comfortable bed in my new hostel, in a new city (Pune) and in a new institute (Indian Institute of Science, Education and Research, Pune), pursuing a BS-MS integrated five year course.
A new innings of my life that I am intently looking forward to and for the few days that I have experienced it, one that I am thoroughly enjoying. And while the larger part of the city is still one large mystery to me, I am so certain that it has exciting avenues, simply lying in wait for me to discover and enjoy.
My perception of the little I have seen is "Comfortable" and the perception of that which I haven't seen could be described as "tantalizing". On the whole, if the experience turns out to be "enjoyable" and "challenging", I will have got what I bargained for.
Kindly join me in wishing myself a great Pune experience.
Jul 18, 2013
What If?
Ignorance is bliss! Ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is bliss?
What if the most momentous occasion of your life has passed and you don't know about it? What if all your dreams have come true but are yet to announce themselves to you? What if everything you wish for has happened but the universe has conspired to keep you in the dark?
What if deep in the pile of your unopened letters is an acceptance letter for your dream job that you applied for a year ago and thought you'd never get? What if your spam inbox conceals from you the marriage proposal the love of your life so nervously mailed to you? What if one of the five messages on your phone that you so tiredly dismissed after a long day at work is your father telling you your mother is no more?
What if one fine morning, your daughter messages you, curtly informing you about her marriage? And your other daughter from across the world sends you an email, that she has gotten her dream project, she will be staying there for the rest of her life?
In every line of communication from another human-being, an acquaintance, a friend, an enemy or a sibling, lies a deeper meaning. Lies a contextual meaning. Lies a spiritual meaning. In each word lies a blatant truth that mysteriously eludes your mind. Each sentence conceals a paragraph. In each correspondence, there lies a secret, a personality, a plea, an aura, a spirit, a life and a whole world.
Communication is the most vital human attribute, and it's severe, excess digitization leads to a trivialisation of human contact. The worst curse the era of "increased communication". Anything in excess leads to trivialisation, but it is our duty to look unto every word, every sentence, expressed by a fellow human-being.
It is never "just another status update", it is words wished to be communicated by a human. Look into it, and you will find meaning. Not yet another message, it could just be a plea. It could just be a wish for comfort.
So, I silently say, "RIP" to the telegram, Few words that never failed to be noticed, a few words that always proved momentous. News that made the difference. That gave us knowledge. Knowledge that immediately gave us a wide range of emotions, but knowledge that eventually gave us peace and solace with ourselves.
Knowledge that gave us bliss.
Knowledge of the ignorance up until then.
A bliss far truer than the ignorance of knowledge.
What if the most momentous occasion of your life has passed and you don't know about it? What if all your dreams have come true but are yet to announce themselves to you? What if everything you wish for has happened but the universe has conspired to keep you in the dark?
What if deep in the pile of your unopened letters is an acceptance letter for your dream job that you applied for a year ago and thought you'd never get? What if your spam inbox conceals from you the marriage proposal the love of your life so nervously mailed to you? What if one of the five messages on your phone that you so tiredly dismissed after a long day at work is your father telling you your mother is no more?
What if one fine morning, your daughter messages you, curtly informing you about her marriage? And your other daughter from across the world sends you an email, that she has gotten her dream project, she will be staying there for the rest of her life?
In every line of communication from another human-being, an acquaintance, a friend, an enemy or a sibling, lies a deeper meaning. Lies a contextual meaning. Lies a spiritual meaning. In each word lies a blatant truth that mysteriously eludes your mind. Each sentence conceals a paragraph. In each correspondence, there lies a secret, a personality, a plea, an aura, a spirit, a life and a whole world.
Communication is the most vital human attribute, and it's severe, excess digitization leads to a trivialisation of human contact. The worst curse the era of "increased communication". Anything in excess leads to trivialisation, but it is our duty to look unto every word, every sentence, expressed by a fellow human-being.
It is never "just another status update", it is words wished to be communicated by a human. Look into it, and you will find meaning. Not yet another message, it could just be a plea. It could just be a wish for comfort.
So, I silently say, "RIP" to the telegram, Few words that never failed to be noticed, a few words that always proved momentous. News that made the difference. That gave us knowledge. Knowledge that immediately gave us a wide range of emotions, but knowledge that eventually gave us peace and solace with ourselves.
Knowledge that gave us bliss.
Knowledge of the ignorance up until then.
A bliss far truer than the ignorance of knowledge.
Jul 12, 2013
All Aboard
My father, with some tedious observation, has a knack of bringing out the fundamental principles behind the systems and organisations we see around us.
His take on transportation is interesting, insightful and when you go a little deeper, so damn true. Here's his version of how all transportation works.
Waterways were man's first means of transport, any device that floated. Water though, isn't everywhere, and to get to the end point, the boat/ship/ferry or whichever aqua-vehicle was the user's choice had to have a place to make stop, at the interface of land and water. A landing platform, so to speak. Just a decent beach might do for a raft, a harbour for a large ship. This is the underlying principle for all transport. A landing place, a platform, or as my dad puts it, a "katte". (Kannada for platform, means the same but somehow when told in kannada brings out the sheer simplicity of what every means of transportation is based on).
Waterways were man's first means of transport, any device that floated. Water though, isn't everywhere, and to get to the end point, the boat/ship/ferry or whichever aqua-vehicle was the user's choice had to have a place to make stop, at the interface of land and water. A landing platform, so to speak. Just a decent beach might do for a raft, a harbour for a large ship. This is the underlying principle for all transport. A landing place, a platform, or as my dad puts it, a "katte". (Kannada for platform, means the same but somehow when told in kannada brings out the sheer simplicity of what every means of transportation is based on).
Ships have docks, trains have platforms, air-crafts have terminals or air-bases, buses have platforms too. All of which when brought down to their bones are nothing more than platforms at the interface between the user and the means of transportation. A common point. Edge of the sea, edge of the road or the end of the railway track. It's all the same.
Profound thoughts built by simple ideas lend true beauty and perspective to the world.
Profound thoughts built by simple ideas lend true beauty and perspective to the world.
Jul 7, 2013
Uncertainty
After the efficacy of cute merchandise towards expressing sentiment, vacation is probably the most over-rated entity on this planet. At least it seems so at the age of 18 after the longest haul of studies, studies and more studies. Yes, we all know it, preparation for the exam to gain admission into the "prestigious" Indian Institute of Technology, or IIT, easily the most used acronym from my vocabulary over the past couple of years.
In the middle of the grind, one often wishes to be transported in time to the days immediately following the exam. Early June was the favourite choice then. But as things turned out, if indeed time-travel were possible, then that would have been quite a horrid choice.
The fantasies of how my holidays following some insanely draining work occupied a majority of my upper-storey. And in what came as a surprise, none of them truly materialised. The proposed flooding of my blog with master-pieces, the "cool your heels" picnic to some nearby hill-station with friends, the long, heart-rending talks with family, gala sessions of cricket and football, leisurely evenings, getting wet in the rain, writing some short-stories, none of it. It turned out to be just nothing. Mere existence.
Not that it wasn't enjoyable. I enjoyed thoroughly. I would ask myself, "why am I doing nothing?."
And answer myself too, with a resounding "Because I can".
Yes I did feel aimless and lazy. I did feel I could do better. Help society. Donate blood the day I turned eighteen (a couple of weeks back). Get a voter's Id. Go to a driving class. The many things I had planned.
It did work out eventually. Partially. What prevented a flurry of posts making their way into my blog was not the lack of ideas but an acute lack of willingness to implement the ideas. How much ever I told myself what I wanted to do in the holidays, deep inside all I was intent on doing was nothing. Mental exhaustion was what I figured. Anxiety about the exam, fear of failure, uncertainty about the future. Where would I belong?
And now here I am, remarkably calm despite being further undecided. Teaching poor children who can't afford the best schooling at a nearby NGO. Overcome the temporary allergy to books that was blighting me. Back to my full vigour, and surely it has reached the pinnacle now, garnering enough time, energy and clarity to string together a good long post on my blog. Yes, the writing maybe mediocre. It may have always been. You are the judge, but to me, it is in the ease with which the words flow that I judge my post, not the outcome. That is none of my business.
Vacation is about the freedom of the mind and explosion of thoughts and dream unguided by external factors, not simply long stretches of leisure. Live everyday in your mind like you live a vacation.
I can assure you, my beloved (sparse) readership, that the flow is slowly making it's way back. My spirit has finally overcome the backlog of creativity, the backlog stemming from the excess of logic, reason and analytical thinking requisite for my preparation for the said exams.
And I cannot wait to bring this blog to a higher level of activity.
Until then.
Adios.
In the middle of the grind, one often wishes to be transported in time to the days immediately following the exam. Early June was the favourite choice then. But as things turned out, if indeed time-travel were possible, then that would have been quite a horrid choice.
The fantasies of how my holidays following some insanely draining work occupied a majority of my upper-storey. And in what came as a surprise, none of them truly materialised. The proposed flooding of my blog with master-pieces, the "cool your heels" picnic to some nearby hill-station with friends, the long, heart-rending talks with family, gala sessions of cricket and football, leisurely evenings, getting wet in the rain, writing some short-stories, none of it. It turned out to be just nothing. Mere existence.
Not that it wasn't enjoyable. I enjoyed thoroughly. I would ask myself, "why am I doing nothing?."
And answer myself too, with a resounding "Because I can".
Yes I did feel aimless and lazy. I did feel I could do better. Help society. Donate blood the day I turned eighteen (a couple of weeks back). Get a voter's Id. Go to a driving class. The many things I had planned.
It did work out eventually. Partially. What prevented a flurry of posts making their way into my blog was not the lack of ideas but an acute lack of willingness to implement the ideas. How much ever I told myself what I wanted to do in the holidays, deep inside all I was intent on doing was nothing. Mental exhaustion was what I figured. Anxiety about the exam, fear of failure, uncertainty about the future. Where would I belong?
And now here I am, remarkably calm despite being further undecided. Teaching poor children who can't afford the best schooling at a nearby NGO. Overcome the temporary allergy to books that was blighting me. Back to my full vigour, and surely it has reached the pinnacle now, garnering enough time, energy and clarity to string together a good long post on my blog. Yes, the writing maybe mediocre. It may have always been. You are the judge, but to me, it is in the ease with which the words flow that I judge my post, not the outcome. That is none of my business.
Vacation is about the freedom of the mind and explosion of thoughts and dream unguided by external factors, not simply long stretches of leisure. Live everyday in your mind like you live a vacation.
I can assure you, my beloved (sparse) readership, that the flow is slowly making it's way back. My spirit has finally overcome the backlog of creativity, the backlog stemming from the excess of logic, reason and analytical thinking requisite for my preparation for the said exams.
And I cannot wait to bring this blog to a higher level of activity.
Until then.
Adios.
May 7, 2013
The Treasure Trove
According to a theory which my sister enlightened me with, a clutter in your room is indicative of a clutter in your mind. And a will to clean your room is indicative of the clutter in your mind clearing itself.
It wasn't surprising then, that the conclusion of my CET exam was followed a sudden urge to clean my room. (As well as my rectum, but we will leave those discussions for a different day.)
So here is exactly what happened. I returned from my ordeal of two days, the Common Entrance Test, Karnataka. Only a truly wicked and rotten mind could have thought up the schedule for the exam.
1st May
10:30 am - 11:50 am BIOLOGY
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm MATHEMATICS
2nd May
10:30 am - 11:50 am PHYSICS
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm CHEMISTRY
I much prefer the IITJEE format, 3 subjects, 3 hours, and you're done. The length of the break between CET exams is more than double the duration of each test, precisely long enough to go home and enjoy a jolly lunch without leaving anytime for any last minute cramming, but short enough to prevent one from extending their happy love affair with their bed. All this, when the sun is at its zenith and the northern hemisphere so foolishly inclined towards it. Such precisely diabolic timing is decidedly by design than by fate but powerless as we are, it must simply be accepted with a resigned smile. Not pleasant, but better than frowning and cursing.
Upon reaching home however, I was prevented from feeling the pillow under my head by the sheer number of tasks that were incessantly assigned to me by my parents and sister, tasks necessitated by my mother's scheduled trip to the US of A. Things were taking a turn into "very" diabolical.
Finally, when the exam from under 12 hours back was a far cry in my memory, I was back home, having bid farewell to my mother and finally could gently roll into the dreamland of sleep only at 6 am. The early birds had already risen, as had the sun.
A decent sleep, a good breakfast and a better cup of coffee (naturally followed by a few minutes on the pot) later, I could finally gauge where I was. In a cluttered, dusty room, for whose state even an assortment of all the toughest exams in the world weren't a sufficient excuse.
So, I went to my sister, inviting her to peek into my room to lend me her cleaning expertise. I had one question to ask her. "Where do I start?"
Smilingly and instantaneously she replied, "First clear everything off the bed and the table and bring it all on the floor, then start." It is human instinct to view quick answers with suspicion and apprehension. Taken aback as I was by this simple assessment of what I thought would be a handful for even a team of rocket scientists, a few moments of reflection aided me in seeing the sense and the brilliance of this suggested scheme.
Without wasting a moment, I proceeded to my room, ready to fling everything at an altitude greater than 12 inches back to ground-level, before I abruptly stopped again. For I saw the inherent, flawed assumption on which her excellent plan was based.
Unwanted things have an uncanny knack of finding their way to the neglected corners of homes. When you're looking for something used sparsely, but just enough to prevent it from being flung into the bin, simply search in the messiest room of your home, and you'll find it nine times out of ten.
The flawed assumption my sister made was that everything in my room belonged to my room. Which was as far from the truth as the Southern Hemisphere is from the sun right now.
Soon, however, I overcame this difficulty, selectively evicting the unwanted from my room before following my sister's game-plan.
Three days of toil and diligent work later, I find myself perched pretty on my bed covered by a spotless sheet, neatly arranged blankets and pillows, within a room, everything arranged immaculately. My room is clean at last.
I remain perched, though, with mixed feelings, something deeper than satisfaction. Puzzled, almost. By myself. Was my mind in such a clutter as my room? And did the clutter of my room clear by virtue of the clutter in my mind going the same way? I'm convinced it's the other way around.
My small room, hardly any larger than three standard cubicles put together, held much more secrets from me than I could imagine.I constantly reflect within her walls. I grapple with the metaphors to life that she lends me. It is where I truly live.
And as I cleared her off the load on her back, got her into order, I found little things of joy. My old nintendo pokemon cartridge (That was a sweet one). Old books, with their delightfully soothing smell. My ear-phones which I had thought had gone forever, even causing me to stop listening to music at all.
All the rubbish, each piece of paper that was so ruthlessly crushed and tossed into the bin held a small fragment of my life-story. Random scratches, notes of years ago.A failed poem.
My room had turned into the garbage bin I thought, but now I think otherwise. It had turned into a treasure trove, unwilling to give away the gold within.
Today, finally, after shutting the laptop screen, after nearly two months away from her, I can sleep within her confines, warm, light, music in my ears.
Boy I missed those ear-phones!!
It wasn't surprising then, that the conclusion of my CET exam was followed a sudden urge to clean my room. (As well as my rectum, but we will leave those discussions for a different day.)
So here is exactly what happened. I returned from my ordeal of two days, the Common Entrance Test, Karnataka. Only a truly wicked and rotten mind could have thought up the schedule for the exam.
1st May
10:30 am - 11:50 am BIOLOGY
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm MATHEMATICS
2nd May
10:30 am - 11:50 am PHYSICS
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm CHEMISTRY
I much prefer the IITJEE format, 3 subjects, 3 hours, and you're done. The length of the break between CET exams is more than double the duration of each test, precisely long enough to go home and enjoy a jolly lunch without leaving anytime for any last minute cramming, but short enough to prevent one from extending their happy love affair with their bed. All this, when the sun is at its zenith and the northern hemisphere so foolishly inclined towards it. Such precisely diabolic timing is decidedly by design than by fate but powerless as we are, it must simply be accepted with a resigned smile. Not pleasant, but better than frowning and cursing.
Upon reaching home however, I was prevented from feeling the pillow under my head by the sheer number of tasks that were incessantly assigned to me by my parents and sister, tasks necessitated by my mother's scheduled trip to the US of A. Things were taking a turn into "very" diabolical.
Finally, when the exam from under 12 hours back was a far cry in my memory, I was back home, having bid farewell to my mother and finally could gently roll into the dreamland of sleep only at 6 am. The early birds had already risen, as had the sun.
A decent sleep, a good breakfast and a better cup of coffee (naturally followed by a few minutes on the pot) later, I could finally gauge where I was. In a cluttered, dusty room, for whose state even an assortment of all the toughest exams in the world weren't a sufficient excuse.
So, I went to my sister, inviting her to peek into my room to lend me her cleaning expertise. I had one question to ask her. "Where do I start?"
Smilingly and instantaneously she replied, "First clear everything off the bed and the table and bring it all on the floor, then start." It is human instinct to view quick answers with suspicion and apprehension. Taken aback as I was by this simple assessment of what I thought would be a handful for even a team of rocket scientists, a few moments of reflection aided me in seeing the sense and the brilliance of this suggested scheme.
Without wasting a moment, I proceeded to my room, ready to fling everything at an altitude greater than 12 inches back to ground-level, before I abruptly stopped again. For I saw the inherent, flawed assumption on which her excellent plan was based.
Unwanted things have an uncanny knack of finding their way to the neglected corners of homes. When you're looking for something used sparsely, but just enough to prevent it from being flung into the bin, simply search in the messiest room of your home, and you'll find it nine times out of ten.
The flawed assumption my sister made was that everything in my room belonged to my room. Which was as far from the truth as the Southern Hemisphere is from the sun right now.
Soon, however, I overcame this difficulty, selectively evicting the unwanted from my room before following my sister's game-plan.
Three days of toil and diligent work later, I find myself perched pretty on my bed covered by a spotless sheet, neatly arranged blankets and pillows, within a room, everything arranged immaculately. My room is clean at last.
I remain perched, though, with mixed feelings, something deeper than satisfaction. Puzzled, almost. By myself. Was my mind in such a clutter as my room? And did the clutter of my room clear by virtue of the clutter in my mind going the same way? I'm convinced it's the other way around.
My small room, hardly any larger than three standard cubicles put together, held much more secrets from me than I could imagine.I constantly reflect within her walls. I grapple with the metaphors to life that she lends me. It is where I truly live.
And as I cleared her off the load on her back, got her into order, I found little things of joy. My old nintendo pokemon cartridge (That was a sweet one). Old books, with their delightfully soothing smell. My ear-phones which I had thought had gone forever, even causing me to stop listening to music at all.
All the rubbish, each piece of paper that was so ruthlessly crushed and tossed into the bin held a small fragment of my life-story. Random scratches, notes of years ago.A failed poem.
My room had turned into the garbage bin I thought, but now I think otherwise. It had turned into a treasure trove, unwilling to give away the gold within.
Today, finally, after shutting the laptop screen, after nearly two months away from her, I can sleep within her confines, warm, light, music in my ears.
Boy I missed those ear-phones!!
Apr 27, 2013
Frills and Fancies
If you do follow football and you haven't heard, read or seen the hiding that the German teams handed to their Spanish counterparts in the semi-finals of the UEFA Champions League, then, well, you must be living under not just any rock, but a rock particularly resilient to the outside world.
German efficiency is an over-used term, but one only has to see to believe what a fine crop of efficient Germans can do. On the football-field at least.
German efficiency is an over-used term, but one only has to see to believe what a fine crop of efficient Germans can do. On the football-field at least.
Living on a land which is around 5 and a half hours ahead of London in time, the European matches are broadcast in my country at ungodly hours, but I did find the time to watch the replay of the entire match between Barcelona (from Barcelona, Spain) and Bayern Munich (from Munich, Germany), which finished 4-0 to the Germans.
While Bayern Munich were favourites to win the first tie in their own back-yard (semi-finals in the Champions League are two-legged), an annihilation the like of which happened was on nobody's mind as the two teams stepped out. So what really went wrong for the Catalans? How were they brushed aside despite having over 65% of possession?
Cliched, but true, it was all down to efficiency. The Germans managed 15 attempts on goal with just 34% of the ball while their opposition could only get a paltry 4 attempts, only 1 one target. All this making around 200 odd passes, compared to Barcelona's nearly 650 passes. Short, quick passing, or "tiki-taka" of Barcelona was made irrelevant.
Here is how I would break the result down, in steps, and attempting to draw metaphors for life in the process.
One Dimensional Barcelona vs Versatile Bayern
We all know what Barcelona is about, epitomising "total football", where all eleven players are involved in nearly every move, tapping the ball around until it leaves your opposition dizzy and confused, forcing a lapse of concentration, a sudden gap in the defense, slipping the ball through defensive lines and finishing. Barcelona are about as pretty as any team in world football gets. Week-in, week-out, lesser teams of the Spanish League and sporadically, the greater teams on the continent fall prey to this impeccable order of play. "Everyone wants the ball, and everyone can pass it" as the commentator repeatedly drones.
Bayern are no pushovers, capable of producing passing master-classes of their own. They recently demolished a team 9-2. and have scored 20 goals in their past four games, but the means were different. The four they scored against Barcelona were different from the 16 scored in domestic leagues. The domestic goals were Barcelona goals, so to speak, while the goals against Barcelona were the end product of incisive effective passing. Defending deep and rigidly, as soon as Bayern won the ball, they sped down the pitch, making two, three, four passes to reach the other end of the pitch. Two of the four goals were off counter-attacks. So what took Barca a hundred passes took Bayern 5. Efficient indeed.
Lesson - Living on a principle is effective, none can argue with the success of Barcelona, but a plan B, adaptability can prove handy. Never get predictable. Barcelona have been playing this way since 2009, it was high time other teams found them out.
Brain vs Brawn
Delicate, intricate play is what defines Barcelona. The frills and the fancies, show-boating to a degree. Add to that the prodigious, never seen before individual skill of the likes of Andres Iniesta and to a greater degree Lionel Messi, you have a well-oiled attractive team that people would pay to watch. Bayern aren't too ugly themselves, but chose to be so this time around. Mid-field engine Bastian Schweinsteiger, a tireless and gifted footballer was given the task of keeping the "amigos" quiet, flying in every time the ball as much as strayed near the above mentioned players, shoving and bossing his feet to the ball, not flinching as these men tried every trick in the book. Dropping a shoulder one way and moving the ball the other, faking passes, none of it worked on the Germans led by the above mentioned Schweinsteiger. The Germans were absolutely ruthless and Messi was as ineffective on the day as an eight year old feeling a football on his feet for the first time, with the Bavarian team often pushing the boundaries of fair-play in their brute but effective ways. No frills and Fancies for show in Germany.
In fact, two of the goals came from corners, the diminutive and quick footed Spaniards no match for the tall, imposing Germans. Barcelona were out-muscled at every corner of the park and Munich's tenacious strikers busting a gut to get to the ball and finishing.
Lesson - It's nice to be pretty, but you have to have end product. You'd rather be effective than awe-inspiring. Be prepared sometimes to slug it out and play rough.
This softness of Barcelona comes perhaps from being used to playing Spanish clubs lacking in any real quality, too awe-struck by their opponents. Which is perhaps why the English league is still considered the best by many. Whether you are Messi or anybody else, always be ready to be treated rough.
Fitness
The fact of the matter is, Lionel Messi wasn't fit enough to play, but Barcelona gambled, knowing that even a half-fit Messi was as good as any other footballer, better even than a majority who play the game. And when your trump card isn't 100%, your team rarely is. Given how well Bayern played, they could probably have shackled even a fully-fit Messi, but surely, the Spanish team would have made a better fist of things. Not once could Messi, or Iniesta for that matter, shake off the determined Germans and make a mockery of their defense, like they usually do.
Lesson - 100% of something lesser is greater than 50% of something greater. Explanation - Barcelona could probably have coped better if they had played a fully fit Cesc Fabregas, Messi's natural replacement, rather than playing a half-fit Messi, even though Messi is a better footballer.
A summary
On the whole, it was a triumph of guts over talent, hard-work over technique and Germany over Spain. Bayern Munich's no-nonsense-in-your-face approach rattled Barcelona and rendered even the best player in the world listless.
While Bayern Munich were favourites to win the first tie in their own back-yard (semi-finals in the Champions League are two-legged), an annihilation the like of which happened was on nobody's mind as the two teams stepped out. So what really went wrong for the Catalans? How were they brushed aside despite having over 65% of possession?
Cliched, but true, it was all down to efficiency. The Germans managed 15 attempts on goal with just 34% of the ball while their opposition could only get a paltry 4 attempts, only 1 one target. All this making around 200 odd passes, compared to Barcelona's nearly 650 passes. Short, quick passing, or "tiki-taka" of Barcelona was made irrelevant.
Here is how I would break the result down, in steps, and attempting to draw metaphors for life in the process.
One Dimensional Barcelona vs Versatile Bayern
We all know what Barcelona is about, epitomising "total football", where all eleven players are involved in nearly every move, tapping the ball around until it leaves your opposition dizzy and confused, forcing a lapse of concentration, a sudden gap in the defense, slipping the ball through defensive lines and finishing. Barcelona are about as pretty as any team in world football gets. Week-in, week-out, lesser teams of the Spanish League and sporadically, the greater teams on the continent fall prey to this impeccable order of play. "Everyone wants the ball, and everyone can pass it" as the commentator repeatedly drones.
Bayern are no pushovers, capable of producing passing master-classes of their own. They recently demolished a team 9-2. and have scored 20 goals in their past four games, but the means were different. The four they scored against Barcelona were different from the 16 scored in domestic leagues. The domestic goals were Barcelona goals, so to speak, while the goals against Barcelona were the end product of incisive effective passing. Defending deep and rigidly, as soon as Bayern won the ball, they sped down the pitch, making two, three, four passes to reach the other end of the pitch. Two of the four goals were off counter-attacks. So what took Barca a hundred passes took Bayern 5. Efficient indeed.
Lesson - Living on a principle is effective, none can argue with the success of Barcelona, but a plan B, adaptability can prove handy. Never get predictable. Barcelona have been playing this way since 2009, it was high time other teams found them out.
Brain vs Brawn
Delicate, intricate play is what defines Barcelona. The frills and the fancies, show-boating to a degree. Add to that the prodigious, never seen before individual skill of the likes of Andres Iniesta and to a greater degree Lionel Messi, you have a well-oiled attractive team that people would pay to watch. Bayern aren't too ugly themselves, but chose to be so this time around. Mid-field engine Bastian Schweinsteiger, a tireless and gifted footballer was given the task of keeping the "amigos" quiet, flying in every time the ball as much as strayed near the above mentioned players, shoving and bossing his feet to the ball, not flinching as these men tried every trick in the book. Dropping a shoulder one way and moving the ball the other, faking passes, none of it worked on the Germans led by the above mentioned Schweinsteiger. The Germans were absolutely ruthless and Messi was as ineffective on the day as an eight year old feeling a football on his feet for the first time, with the Bavarian team often pushing the boundaries of fair-play in their brute but effective ways. No frills and Fancies for show in Germany.
In fact, two of the goals came from corners, the diminutive and quick footed Spaniards no match for the tall, imposing Germans. Barcelona were out-muscled at every corner of the park and Munich's tenacious strikers busting a gut to get to the ball and finishing.
Lesson - It's nice to be pretty, but you have to have end product. You'd rather be effective than awe-inspiring. Be prepared sometimes to slug it out and play rough.
This softness of Barcelona comes perhaps from being used to playing Spanish clubs lacking in any real quality, too awe-struck by their opponents. Which is perhaps why the English league is still considered the best by many. Whether you are Messi or anybody else, always be ready to be treated rough.
Fitness
The fact of the matter is, Lionel Messi wasn't fit enough to play, but Barcelona gambled, knowing that even a half-fit Messi was as good as any other footballer, better even than a majority who play the game. And when your trump card isn't 100%, your team rarely is. Given how well Bayern played, they could probably have shackled even a fully-fit Messi, but surely, the Spanish team would have made a better fist of things. Not once could Messi, or Iniesta for that matter, shake off the determined Germans and make a mockery of their defense, like they usually do.
Lesson - 100% of something lesser is greater than 50% of something greater. Explanation - Barcelona could probably have coped better if they had played a fully fit Cesc Fabregas, Messi's natural replacement, rather than playing a half-fit Messi, even though Messi is a better footballer.
A summary
On the whole, it was a triumph of guts over talent, hard-work over technique and Germany over Spain. Bayern Munich's no-nonsense-in-your-face approach rattled Barcelona and rendered even the best player in the world listless.
Feb 3, 2013
The Voice Within
Have you ever wondered, or paid attention, to that little voice in your head? No, I don't mean your conscience, the one that silently whispers no to smoking and yes to studying. Nor am I talking about the voice of your conversations with imaginary friends and objects. Its not metaphorically or symbolically that I say "voice inside your head". I'm talking about the voice that echoes from somewhere in the middle of your brain. The small voice that is reading these words at this instant. And without this voice, reading would be impossible.
Have you ever wondered, or paid attention, to ear-phones? Well, who really hasn't? These small discs or spheres which are for some reason almost always black have the power to transport you to a new world, make you feel like you are floating, your feet firmly on the floor but your head in the clouds. Ear-phones are perhaps man's brightest invention for the broken souls (as long as they're not tangled), not only barring the entry of nagging and complaining voices of fellow beings and replacing it with the language of the soul; music but also making sure the noise comes from nowhere.
We are born with ears so fine tuned that we can identify a certain direction with every single sound, be it the leaves rustling in the light morning breeze in a rain-forest, the mechanical ticking of a clock or even an aircraft deafeningly taking off in the vicinity. If however, you remember this post the next time you put on ear-phones, be sure, for a few seconds at least, to try and single out the exact direction the music emanates from. And you would be pleasantly surprised to see that the voice emanates from within, somewhere near the middle of your brain, beneath the corpus callosum (if I remember my biology well). Exactly from where the little voice that is reading these lines has it's source. What would surprise you (albeit pleasantly) is not the fact that the voice coming from precisely here is out of the ordinary, but because you have probably never noticed that it came from right here.
And that is perhaps why ear-phone music seems to have that edge over other sources of music under the "effectively reaching the soul" category. When you listen from a ear phone, the lack of any direction makes it seem like it is you who singing to yourself. From your brain to your brain. Rather than mouth to ear, which is a rather messy business involving the cacophony of the world at large.
Delving even deeper into the little matter of the direction, if sound were a vector quantity, a physical quantity with magnitude and direction, then this inner voice would be like a zero vector, a vector which doesn't have any direction. Or as my physics teacher once said with great insight, a vector with all directions.
The inner voice rouses the soul the most effectively, and ear phones eliminate direction, aiding us in pretending that our very own inner voice is singing. The voice which comes from nowhere, but feels like it is surrounding us, from everywhere.
Have you ever wondered, or paid attention, to ear-phones? Well, who really hasn't? These small discs or spheres which are for some reason almost always black have the power to transport you to a new world, make you feel like you are floating, your feet firmly on the floor but your head in the clouds. Ear-phones are perhaps man's brightest invention for the broken souls (as long as they're not tangled), not only barring the entry of nagging and complaining voices of fellow beings and replacing it with the language of the soul; music but also making sure the noise comes from nowhere.
We are born with ears so fine tuned that we can identify a certain direction with every single sound, be it the leaves rustling in the light morning breeze in a rain-forest, the mechanical ticking of a clock or even an aircraft deafeningly taking off in the vicinity. If however, you remember this post the next time you put on ear-phones, be sure, for a few seconds at least, to try and single out the exact direction the music emanates from. And you would be pleasantly surprised to see that the voice emanates from within, somewhere near the middle of your brain, beneath the corpus callosum (if I remember my biology well). Exactly from where the little voice that is reading these lines has it's source. What would surprise you (albeit pleasantly) is not the fact that the voice coming from precisely here is out of the ordinary, but because you have probably never noticed that it came from right here.
And that is perhaps why ear-phone music seems to have that edge over other sources of music under the "effectively reaching the soul" category. When you listen from a ear phone, the lack of any direction makes it seem like it is you who singing to yourself. From your brain to your brain. Rather than mouth to ear, which is a rather messy business involving the cacophony of the world at large.
Delving even deeper into the little matter of the direction, if sound were a vector quantity, a physical quantity with magnitude and direction, then this inner voice would be like a zero vector, a vector which doesn't have any direction. Or as my physics teacher once said with great insight, a vector with all directions.
The inner voice rouses the soul the most effectively, and ear phones eliminate direction, aiding us in pretending that our very own inner voice is singing. The voice which comes from nowhere, but feels like it is surrounding us, from everywhere.
Jan 16, 2013
For You
Deep into the stillness of the night,
In desolation or in anger.
On a wet pillow or a smiling lap,
wherever your head may lie.
Never fear.
In inexplicable bouts of joy,
in elation, ecstasy or absolute grief.
In loneliness unsurpassed,
Or when on yourself, your doubts are cast
In solemn thought or in carefree lethargy
In the cacophony of life, or in deathly silence
In vivid art or a bland scribble.
In the serenity of the mountains,
the lust green by the gushing stream.
Ow within the claustrophobic confines
of your lonely existence.
Even if you have nothing left
That is dear
Never fear
For there is always a song
for you
Just the right tone,
To keep you company when you're alone
A lend a rhyme scheme
To the meaningless poem of life
To lend balance.
In delight and despair alike
friends and foes drown away into the eternity
Of the song right now
somewhere,
Just for you
So you cease to exist
And begin to live
“People haven't always been there for me but music always has.”
― Taylor Swift
― Taylor Swift
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