Time Zero

I’m not going into the big debate. Science versus Religion, Followers versus Atheists, Believers versus Protestants. But this thought’s been bugging me ever since I was introduced to the world of Quantum Physics.

I don’t know where I should start. All I need to do is to share my thoughts with you. My fingers are typing randomly, and even the thoughts are coming so…

Science, or more relevantly Physics, starts from Man’s interactions with nature. I’m constantly reminded by my teachers that Physics is the simplest part of Science as it’s all about how one perceives nature. So I hail the perceiving as Imagination. Because you can’t make assumptions and then jot them down as axioms if don’t have the imagination first.

And yet, nothing, nothing in Physics is absolute. Every alternate breakthrough disproves the previous laws, claiming a new domain. New reign. You’ve got possible changes in the law of gravitation coming through, the Universe as we know it, being obsolete, Man breaking down more and more particles in the super-colliders to see the ‘inside of the big-bang’. But nothing is absolute. You can see anyone else some other day claiming that this all was bullshit. He receives a Nobel, and the world then starts anew.




I have Mr Hawking, for example. I was fascinated by him initially. His string theory and other-dimensions-concepts were mind-blowing for me. But then, he starts going deeper. He goes into the big-bang, making several daring assumptions. Saying the Universe isn’t unique.

Scientists claim that the Universe started from a tiny speck of light, which then expanded due to some driving force into the Universe. A fact ‘universally’ accepted today as ‘The Big-bang theory’. But there’s a question that always pops into my head. What was this driving force? If the Universe originated from this big-bang, and if it’s the unique, then where was this tiny speck of light originally contained?

CERN is busy today searching answers. Maybe for these questions, and thousands more. Its smashing elementary particles at nearly the speed of light into its LHC, creating a ‘mini’ big-bang to know what exactly happened at time zero.

Maybe they’ll have a breakthrough. Maybe they’ll find out what that driving force was. But, what about the more thousands of questions springing up from that single discovery? People will again get busy finding answers to those. Perhaps, even answering a few of them. But in that process, a thousand more questions will arise.

It’s a continuous, endless cycle. First, there was the atom. It was supposed to be the tiniest and the ultimate particle of matter. Then came electrons, protons and neutrons. Then came quarks and mesons and leptons. Then arose Anti-particles. And now, the world’s speculating whether a particle named Higgs Boson exists. I’d like to address it as the God particle, seeing that the name emphasizes its supposedly-ultimate-nature.

Even if this particle is rightly proved to be existing, all we’re going to find is that there’re other particles constituting that one. So go deeper, smash more particles. Again, an endless cycle.

We’ve gone from milli to micro to nano to femto. And all we find is more questions. The answers can’t cope up to the amount of their own questions that they give birth to, in return.

A single discovery springs up a thousand more questions. All I want to ask is, why are we being so ignorant? What is the problem to simply accept that there exists a power higher, supreme than us? Is it ego?

I was very much amazed by this Quantum Mechanics before. But now it seems meaningless as I go deeper into it. Its just a world full of more questions than answers. It’s a never-ending world of assumptions, hypothetical things and discoveries that get stale in a day or so.

If you want to say that its just giving up by not researching any further, then its not so. Its not giving up. Its just surrendering, belonging to a power, higher than us. What is it with the ego? Has man conquered death yet? Is he immortal? And even if he does be immortal, should he be immoral to be immortal?

There are things that’re out of our control. The same way as we can’t ever achieve the speed of light, in Physics.

If you believe that we can’t achieve that speed, then how could you not believe in a power supreme to us? Can’t we see that we aren’t supposedly the ‘supremos’ here? How can we be still so ignorant that the Human Race is the reigning one?

We’re advanced, and yet fear that the world would sink in 2012. If we’re so ignorant about being supreme why do we fear death? Why can’t we survive the natural disasters?

Nature is governed by her own laws. Hence, Physics can never be absolute… Science can never be absolute. All we have is relativity. See Einstein here, don’t you?

Even Einstein concluded that there’re things beyond the human thought. That God doesn’t play dice with the Universe.

I never mean that we need to cease being logical or well-reasoned. All I mean to say is there’re some things where we need to draw the line. Where its all beyond the human capabilities.

I am not talking about religion. The way in which man perceives God. I myself don’t know on which side I stand. I don’t believe in heaven or hell. But I do believe that Man can’t be the supreme.

I’ve never liked the way man perceived God. About sins and sinners, I’ve fancied nothing. But I feel that we ought to be just moral, humane in the end. Humble, as we meet our fate. Ignorance never paid. And again here, fate is a thing that no man can change.

We aren’t the supremos. Then though we be the reigning species on this planet. There’s something higher than us… higher than we all. For me, its just tremendous amount of energy. See I’m talking Science now, too.

Faith, I have. Religions and rituals, I don’t to believe in.

I’m a nobody. I mentioned scientists, criticized them, supported them, here. But, I’ve got no right whatsoever to contradict anyone. But this is what I felt, and I needed to convey it.

"When we as a species abandon our trust in the power greater than us, we abandon our sense of accountability. Faith . . . all faiths . . . are admonitions that there is something we cannot understand, something to which we are accountable . . . With faith we are accountable to each other, to ourselves, and to a higher truth."

Tonight, she's mine.

The day has passed,
And here comes the night.
Adorned by the cluster of stars,
Topped by the crescent Moon,
She makes a way into my heart,
Into my world.

Tonight, she’s mine.
She’s mine, and I am, hers.
I’ve let myself get lost in her Jet-black color,
Amazed at her hollow, yet heavenly countenance.
She is, beautiful.

The day did part us,
The blue sky never making it up to me.
But the twilight ended my wait for her,
As she painted the blue sky orange, and then dark.
The darkness, is what I love.
Her darkness, illuminated by the faint diamond-like stars.
And her Pearl, the Moon,
I love.

She was not meant for me in the day,
Nor was I.
She was on the other part of the world,
And I was alone, facing the sun, busy.
But she’s arrived now,
Silencing half of the world in their beds.
Apart from me, who waits for her, yearns for her.

Tonight, she’s mine,
And the world, it’s all gone quiet.
The stars, they’re witnesses,
Oh and the Moon, she’s the charm,
Of the love, I and she have,
Of the bond, I and she share.

Tonight, she’s mine,
I am, with her, through my dreams,
Even the sky isn’t my limit.
As I float into her,
Into her Jet-black beauty. :)


Solitude

Its one of those rainy, monsoon nights... Damp, humid and cloudy. Cloudy skies that contain and curtain the stars and the moon.
I hate those clouds... I do. They separate me and make me feel lonely and vulnerable.
Lately, I've developed an used-to-ness with being lonely. Its not that I like being alone, its just that there's no other option.
I am, yet to discover myself... And I do it in strange ways. I even doubt how many people completely understand themselves.
I hate my loneliness, even though I belong to it as much as it does to me.
I hate not being to express my loneliness.
'cause No one pays any heed.
'cause None will stop and ask.
'cause None will bother to peep into the troubles.
I know, this all just feels like a random input... But if you ever have felt alone, it will all make sense... Even the chaos... the randomness.
There are some feelings that can never be conveyed through discussions, or talks, or conversations. And if you do convey them somehow,
A display of emotions,
A show of kindness,
Some sweet words,
is all that you might get.
But is it worth?
I'm tired honestly,
To play the gentleman, when you're craving from the inside like hell, for someone to satiate your lonliness.
To be as non-exposed as possible, afraid that it would reveal your vulnerability to the one you're dying to share things with.
'cause deep down inside, I'm afraid. Afraid that if I really open myself up, I'd lose my worth.
'cause there are, frequent times. Frequent times, when I crave.
I told you, I haven't completely discovered myself yet...
There are times when I feel disturbed. Disturbed to the point where I feel my mind getting crushed over, my heart getting pumped out, my soul being ripped off...
I crave. I crave for a healer.
But I'm afraid, as I told you. Afraid that if I ever find anyone such, I'd become addicted.
Afraid that if I'd be so frequently lonely and vulnerable, I'd die of the absence of the healer.
But then, who doesn't need....?
Those motherly eyes..
Bonding in directly with the panicked kid into you?
That sweet voice..
Able to charm out even the deepest troubles out of you?
Those warm arms..
Which could make you forget everything, but the love that they contain for you?
Those soft fingers..
Which would trace into your hair and caress them softly to calm down even a Tornado rising inside you?
Got lured, didn't you?
But its not always so simple, so sweet and so satiating...
How I wish it could be, though.
The Question really arises when this same one advantages your vulnerability.
And yet,
I crave. I feel my soul getting torn.
I... feel... alone.
But this loneliness is something that brings me closer to the ink and paper twin.
I wish it'd be the same for me...
Ink and Paper are like twins. Both together, make up everything. Both as individuals, are nothing.
But then,
Even ink blots on poor paper.
Questions arise everywhere and so does loneliness. The thing is, how one survives it all.
And yet, one can't write with just Ink, or just Paper.
A healer would make it all so easier for me.. easier to put my jigsawed soul into the right order, to warm me against the chill, or simply cover my vulnerability.
As it is,
It is never too easy to be in the gentleman's shoes and play it so well.
And,
Being good is never worth it, if it becomes so easy.
Loneliness comes and goes.

A Sunday Evening

The Sun is setting into an Orange Hue,
Making the horizon a breathtaking view.
But lazy is the Sunday Evening,
Lazier is me.

A slight drizzle is in the air,
A cool breeze accompanying it, fair.
And yet, lazy is the Sunday Evening,
Lazier is me.

Night’s near, Dusk at hand,
Twilight already being set upon the land.
Too tired to think about the night though,
As the laziness in me doesn’t let go…

Owl City’s tuned on,
And I smile.
Twilight’s long before now gone,
And I miss it already for a while.

There’s work summoning,
There’re my books beckoning.
Don’t know when I’ll answer ‘em,
Don’t know when I’ll join ‘em.

Birdies are making their way back home,
The dusk’s illuminating their outlines.
The sun’s on the horizon like a dome,
The breeze’s playing like a light chime.

I’m on the pen,
Inking this all the same.
But lazy, I am,
And thus I let it all go damn.

The ink thus spills, the pen thus falls,
But I don’t bother to clean it all.
‘cause lazy is the Sunday Evening,
Lazier is me.

Wake me up some other day,
For now, I won’t let my thoughts fray.
‘cause lazy is the Sunday Evening,
Lazier is me.

Son of a Farmer

Rains whip the soil: silent yet strong.
Rains cover for my tears, from all the stares.


I can’t spare myself from the stares completely, though,
I can’t leave everything and run away to the farthest place, though,
I can’t be courageous enough to face everything, too, though,
Because I am, the Son of a Farmer.

So I sit.
I sit and I think.
I think and I recall.
I recall and I cry.
I cry and I run into the Rains.
Rains, that cover for my tears.

My Father, The Farmer.
The Farmer who made it sweat and blood to green the fields.
The Farmer, who worked endlessly to feed him and his family and even others.
The Farmer, who never mastered the skills of trade.
My Father, The Farmer, who thus succumbed on his own.

That year, the Rains weren’t bountiful.
It resulted into a severe draught.
I missed seeing the green fields so much,
But The Farmer, had greater worries.

The Draught was merciless.
It provided no crop to reap, no grain to gather, no harvest to sell.
No sell, and No money.
No crop, and a hell lot to worry…

For there was a loan,
A loan to be repaid.
And there were aspirations,
Aspirations of My Father to see his son grow big, and grow literate.

But the Draught had other intentions.
It made The Farmer plead to the Landlord.
It made The Farmer beg to the others for money.
It made The Farmer defamed, and cursed, and hated.

None helped My Father,
None granted Money or even support.
And all those wicked Kings men and Landlords,
They took away the fields, the home and the dignity of My Father.

For The Farmer was claimed to be a Drunkard,
A drunkard who lived on loans for his habit.
“DRUNKARD” was written on the walls of The Farmer’s home, his face colored black,
And was cast away from the village,
The Village thus claimed to be prevented from undesirable people.

My Father, The Farmer.
The Farmer who fed the village.
The Farmer, who was now undesirable.
My Father, The Loser.

We all went away from the Village with The Loser.
The Loser and we stayed in cottage by the outskirts,
Devising and thinking of methods to repay the loan,
And make The Loser, The Farmer once again.

But it never happened,
The Loser hanged himself a day later.
And took My Father, The Farmer, with him.
All hopes shattered, I ran for the Rain.

And Rain came at last,
Not from the heavens, but from me.
It poured down through the eyelashes, down on the soil.
Silent, yet Strong.

I told you, I recall, and I cry.

It’s been a year,
And the draught is over.
The Rains are not greening the fields,
And are covering for my tears.

Rains whip the soil: silent yet strong.
Rains cover for my tears, from all the stares.

I can’t sit and think and recall and cry, though,
I can’t grow big and grow literate, though,
I can’t fulfill My Father’s aspirations, though,
For I’ve Mouths to feed and Money to earn,
For I can’t be anyone else apart from this,

Because, I am, The Son-of-a-Farmer.

Wisdom or Words?

I read a thing today in the Newspaper in the “Appointments” section. It said that the company needed several individuals for different posts in their technical field. This might have made no mention here, if it wouldn’t been for the last line. It stated “Only those fluent in English should apply”.

This fuelled me up.

I don’t know what, but I got sort of infuriated. Why only english-speakers? What about those who didn’t know English, but were the better ones in the technical field than those fluent in English? I know, this argument of mine will sort of feel a stupid thing or an overreaction. Even I gave another thought over it: What if the individuals that finally got the job had some serious use of English in their work? What if they needed to interact around in English? But then I re-read it, and it stated “Technical Field”. I didn’t get since when people in the Technical Field had a language restriction.

Maybe I’m wrong about this account, but the world, atleast India, is full of such examples.

A person fluent in English is always rated over the one not-so-fluent-in-it. Then though the latter one be more skilled, more trained and more experienced in that particular job. I know, being fluent in English only adds up to the Personality, the first Impression of an Individual. But these aren’t the real factors for the ultimate job, as per my opinion. Don’t factors such as being efficient, hard-working, experienced, skilled count?

Do not agree? Have this…

A person not knowing English, or being tremendously poor in English, is always laughed at. I’m not talking about those who try to show-off their English-speaking skills, only to fail later. I’m talking about the sincere, honest guys who try to learn the language, in order to overcome their shameful lacking.

But this is it. Not knowing English is considered to be a lacking, a shameful thing. “You’re of 17, and yet you don’t know English?” This question is really irritating. I accept that being poor in English is really a great drawback, but the way it is looked-upon, is totally wrong.

About 78% of the people in Europe don’t know English. They only know their Mother-tongue. And yet, would you say they haven’t progressed? Europe was the cradle of the Industrial Revolution. Europe brought in the various ways of Transport and Communication. Europe has produced many of the finest Artists, Architects, Doctors, Alchemists, Scientists, Poets, Rulers, Craftsmen and Navigators. How many of them were great English speakers? Remember, Europe doesn’t constitute of England and all the English such as Churcill, Victoria, Shakespeare, Newton, alone. The major part constitutes the Non-English provinces, and the people there are proud that they have command over their own language. They do not require the means of English to tread the paths of progress.

Even 85% of the Chinese don’t know English. But that doesn’t halt their progress, either. I do not need to supply with the examples of the Chinese progress, I guess. An example of half of the electronic devices and gadgets, plastic materials, crockery items in our households being “Made in China”, is enough to prove their dominance.

But there’s even another side to China’s story. Thousands of Interpreters fluent in English and well-acquainted with Mandarin (Chinese) are recruited by China to help it reduce that 85%. The interpreters are even paid tremendous salaries (I even considered of being one :P) for translating just some pages of Mandarin into English, or helping people know English better. The condition of China in English is so poor, that while the Olympics were hosted there back in 2008, the Chinese Govt had hoisted huge posters showing a Human face labelled with its organs in English, on the streets. They didn’t even know what a Nose meant back then.

But the Chinese people who know English well enough don’t laugh over the ones who don’t know it. They’re learning and gaining in the language at a rapid speed, without taking Mandarin off the top spot.

I know, this thing of mine will sound as if I’ve gained some statiscal data from somewhere and cooked it all up over here, but it isn’t so. Many of the facts in this article were already known, just that they all found a stream and suited here, in the right place.

I even know, that by writing this in English, it may seem that I’m contradicting myself.

But it ain’t so.

All I mean to say is, Not-knowing-English doesn’t equal to Not-knowing-Anything. One may have a great knowledge and a great command over any Non-English language, and might as just be equal to, or even better than the one knowing English. I love English. But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect Marathi: My Mother-tongue or Hindi or any other language or the ones knowing only those.

A language is a language, and no one of it is better or worse than the other.

What is being conveyed, taught, acknowledged or simply thrown light upon is that which is important and is that which is supreme. The mode of communication never is so important, unless you understand what the other intends to convey.

I hope you all get me, and do not laugh upon the ones who put up sincere efforts.

Words are never greater than Wisdom.

Where Do I Belong?

Where do I belong?
In this world of lost humanity,
Where is my abode?
In this world of numbed feelings,
What is my Identity?

I pen down random emotions now,
My tears being the smooth flow of ink.
But the paper being so hollow,
Even the tears start blotting on it.
In this world of hollowness,
What does my presence justify?

Standing amidst a bunch o'people,
Yet completely lonely, I am.
Buzzed 'round by the people,
Yet the quietest amongst 'em, I am.
Hunting for the meaning of lonliness,
Yet completely alone, I am.
In this world of lost definitions,
Where am I?

Already ridden of the past,
Yet sneaking 'nother way through it, I am.
Watching the clock tick endlessly everyday,
Yet careless to think 'bout the future, I am.
Living in the present,
Yet travelling through the time, I am.
In this world of lost time,
What period am I in?

Walking along a path,
Yet no traveller, I am.
Composing some lines in order,
Yet no poet, I am.
Masking myself as somebody,
Yet the true nobody in myself, I am.
In this world of wronged roles,
Who am I?

Proclaiming myself as 'I',
Yet unaware of my identity, I am.
Inking down a thought,
Yet immediately contradicting it, I am.
In this world of mismatched-ness,
Where do I come from?

Help me now, Tell me,
Where do I belong?
In your mind, as this composition?
Or still on the paper, just as some random emotions?

The Nightfall

It is one of those lonely, misty and chilly nights. And stuck in the middle of it, is me. Even the moon still ain't out to help me get cured with my loneliness.

Every night nowadays, brings with it a certain chill that almost everytime triumphs the warmth in me.

The vulnerable side of me is thus exhibited helplessly to the dark. Not that I fear the dark, but the chill it brings with it, makes me drop all my guard.

Everytime the chill creeps into me with a queer slowness, it reminds me of some other-worldly warmth.

Mum.

Yeah, I finally struck the right chord. It may be really hard to think about living without your Mum, but its even harder to live the real.

And the Harder is what, I'm living. The real. Mum's on the other side of the state, with I being on one side, both being in different cities altogether.

Frankly, I always cherished the dream of living alone some day, without Mum and Dad. I even kept sayig about this to Mum. But she always snapped back saying its not so easy as it seems.

Now I know what she meant by that.

Everyday, until the sun sets, everything goes in its very right order.

But not after the sun down.

After that, the clock suddenly startsticking at an amazingly slow speed, the time goes past by with seemingly huge intervals and I grow from the quite to the quieter to the quietest in the room. And to add to all this, the wicked chill of the night.

This wicked witch of night was once a beautiful angel for me.

But not anymore.

Its like everyone enjoys watching snow sitting by the fireplace, and yet only the one in the snowstorm knows the deadliness of the frost-bite.

The fireplace is the very thing lacking for me.

I can't cuddle up in Mum's warm arms in a shivering chill. I can't even sneak by her side in the dead of the night after I've had a nightmare.
There's no one to caress my forehead to make go to sleep. There's no one even to so roughly wake me up the next morning from the same sound sleep...

I didn't know that I was going to end up in writing all this when I'd started. I didn't even know that this piece of parchment would get so wet and blotchy at some places... places where my tears have fallen.

But then, sometimes one really can't chalk things out.

Well, here comes the moon... She can't supply me with the same warmth as that of Mum, but looking at her atleast cheers me up.

As it is,
You never know what you've truly got until it gets missing...

I'm missing you, Mum,
I'm missing you.