Saturday, June 21, 2008

The Matrix

Coming back to my first love..that is writing weird poems...this happened after I saw my first show of the movie "The Matrix"..after that I am hooked to watch it several times..still groping with what does the movie wants to say..some computer freak friends of mine told me, it depicts the perpetual war between so called Virus/malicious code/spam and good "Neo" programming..finally Neo has to enter inside the malicious code to destroy it...deja vu..I understood the climax...another bunch of friends of mine told me it is the continuous conflicts between the "Good" and the "Evil"..a la Bollywood masala movie...Another set of so called spiritual friends's a direct lift from ideas of hindu mythology..our minds control everything..we live in our subconscious mind and the real world is "maya" (not Mayavati)..And to top it all..some of the most practical friends told me..stupid fellow..stop analyzing the movies and start enjoying it otherwise you would miss the plot and then will ask unnecessary questions while watching the sequel...for the record..sequels are not that enticing!!

So after so much desultory talk, let me say this..after watching the movie I wrote this poem..

The Matrix
From deep sleep I woke up to find the world as a Matrix,
And my identity nothing but an Asterisk!!
The whole world seems so real,
Everybody definitely under a veil.
The reason I wanted to wake up,
The mystery of the system to break up.
The characters found mostly bezier,
But the system itself is so linear!!
There is so much to trace,
But Time is not on my side in this case.
That's how I could not solve the tricks,
And still I am in the Matrix.

Meaning of Life rather what is a meaningless life?

This article was published in “Philosophy Now: a Magazine of ideas” and downloaded from www. It is written by © Richard Taylor. Richard Taylor is renowned for his contributions to the Meaning of Life debate and is Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at the University of Rochester, New York. I liked this article so much that now I want everybody to read this and I hope I will not get sued by either Philosophy Now or Prof. Richard Taylor for this misadventure. If you plan to do so, just kindly write an e-mail to me and I will remove the article. Till then, enjoy reading the article:

The Meaning of Life
Richard Taylor says that lives are meaningful only if they are creative.
The question, What is the meaning of life? invites either banality or sophistry. The uneducated supply the banalities with such answers as "love", "service to others" and so on, while a philosopher is apt to say (as one actually did), "either rephrase your question or consult a dictionary."
Yet it is a serious question and was at the very heart of the classical moral philosophy initiated by Socrates. It is strange indeed, then, that modern moralists, who owe their very subject to the ancients, should treat it with embarrassment and disdain.
The ancients were not primarily concerned with distinguishing moral right and wrong. They thought custom supplied that distinction. Instead they asked, What is human goodness? What is personal excellence or virtue? In the answer to that lies the meaning of life, that is, the whole point to living. They had a word for it - eudaimonia - but differed as to what this is. Today that word is almost always misleadingly translated as 'happiness', and then it is assumed that this refers to some psychological state, or even, as in J.S. Mill's case, to feelings of pleasure. We have, in short, gotten completely off the track, and the wisdom of the ancient moralists is largely lost to us.
The question has no clear meaning as it stands, but it can be given meaning by first getting before us a clear image of meaningless existence, and then seeing what needs to be done to convert that image to one of meaningfulness.
A perfect image of meaningless existence is provided by the ancient myth of Sisyphus. Here Sisyphus is condemned to roll a rock to the top of a hill, only to see it roll back to the bottom, then to be rolled again to the top, whereupon it again rolls back to the bottom - and so on, endlessly, through all eternity.
The first thing this image suggests is heavy toil. That is, we imagine that the stone is a huge one, resulting in profound exhaustion. But that does not capture the essence of its meaninglessness. Work that is hard and onerous is not thereby rendered meaningless. Indeed, it is almost a mark of truly meaningful tasks that they are hard. Important goals are seldom reached easily. If Sisyphus's task were to carry a pebble up the hill, requiring minimal effort, and to keep on doing this pointless thing forever, then the element of meaninglessness would be fully preserved.
Nor is the meaninglessness of this image captured by the fact that the stone never stays put. We can, for example, imagine that Sisyphus rolls a different stone to the top each time, and that each one stays there, such that the pile of stones gets endlessly larger as new ones are added. This does not help. It is still an image of meaningless existence.
What is it about this image, then, that so perfectly expresses the idea of meaninglessness, if it is not the idea of heavy toil nor endless frustration?
It is, clearly, the element of endless and pointless repetition. The same thing just happens over and over and nothing ever comes of it. A meaningless life, then, is just that - a life of perhaps simple and even easy tasks, endlessly repeated, with no significant result except more of the same.
Is that, then, an image of life as we actually find it?
It is certainly a correct description of all non-human life. The lives of all the creatures we see around us consist of nothing but endless repetition, the same behaviour day after day, and all to no purpose whatever beyond more of the same, that is, the begetting of new generations that will repeat the same meaningless cycles. The robin you see today is doing exactly what those you saw as a child were doing, and the same as those seen by our distant ancestors. The species has no history. Each generation replicates those that went before. It is an endless cycle that culminates in nothing new, just more of the same. And so it is throughout creation. This meaninglessness of life does not consist of the suffering that is so common throughout nature, nor in the harshness and often the brevity of such life. It is meaningless just because it exactly resembles the image with which we began.
Is this, then, also a picture of human existence? To a very large extent it is. The lives of most people are like clockwork, endlessly repetitive. They rise, do essentially the same things today that they were doing yesterday and that they will do again tomorrow, repeating this pattern year after year until, finally, they go to their graves leaving nothing of worth behind except a new generation to repeat the cycle. This is the pattern even for many of those who amass great power or riches and thus become objects of envy in the eye of the foolish. They do essentially the same things day after day and then finally leave the world much as they found it. Their lives resemble that of Sisyphus, and it makes no difference that they do not complain of this. If we imagine Sisyphus enjoying what he is doing, perhaps as a result of a drug-induced state, then that would add no meaning to his living. It would only show that, like most mortals, he has been rendered content with a meaningless existence.
What, then, must we add to this picture to convert it to one of meaningful life?
It does not, as already noted, help to remove the element of burdensome toil, nor to suppose that it is a different rock, whether large or small, that is moved each time. The mere accumulation of worthless stones gives no meaning to anything.
But now suppose that these rocks, instead of just accumulating into a pile of rubble, are assembled there into something of grandeur and beauty - an inspiring temple, for example, on the order of the Taj Mahal, something that will inspire the generations of humankind for all time. Have we now given meaning to Sisyphus's labours?
To some extent, to be sure, for we can no longer say that his efforts all come to nothing. But still, what we have now is consistent with supposing that Sisyphus himself knows nothing of this, that the temple is entirely the creation of others, and that Sisyphus's role is no more than that of a beast of burden. His life has no more meaning that that of an ox driven to the same task. We have here, in short, an image of servitude, not meaningfulness.
But now suppose that he does know why he toils, that he can see the wonderous temple taking shape, and can see his own role in this great work.
This improves his lot, no doubt, but we still have not gotten to a meaningful existence, for this is still consistent with servitude. He is entirely subject to the will of others. All his masters have done for him is allow him to see what is happening to all the stones he is compelled to move. He has no role at all in this, other than that of a slave.
Now let us take what is obviously the next step, supposing that Sisyphus not only moves all these stones, but it is he who places them, according to the plan which he alone has created by thought and reason, and that the result is an awesome structure of lasting beauty. Now, at last, we have the picture of a meaningful life.
Let it not be said here that the thing Sisyphus has created is a source of deep satisfaction to him, and that, therefore, so long as people derive satisfaction from what they do then their lives are made meaningful. A man might spend his life creating a tremendous ball of string, as one actually did, or digging a hole in the ground deeper than any ever seen. People might be impressed by the energy and industry of the creators of such things, but that would not confer meaningfulness, because things like that are of no real worth. We are supposing, however, that the great temple built by Sisyphus is truly beautiful, and would be thus seen even if its origin were unknown, notwithstanding any failure of vulgarians to appreciate that worth.
The answer to our question now lies before us: A meaningful life is a creative one, and what falls short of this lacks meaning, to whatever extent. What redeems humanity is not its kings, military generals and builders of personal wealth, however much these may be celebrated and envied. It is instead the painters, composers, poets, philosophers, writers - all who, by their creative power alone, bring about things of great value, things which, but for them, would never have existed at all.
And it should be noted that human beings are the only beings that do this and that, indeed, relatively few even of these are capable of such creativity. Other creatures often produce things that are striking and even beautiful - the spider's web, the call of certain birds, things of this kind. But these are mere products, not creations, in the sense we are considering. These beings, like most people, simply do what others of their kind do, and what was done by their ancestors. Every great poem, painting, composition or treatise, on the other hand, is unique. It is unlike anything that has ever been done, or even could be done by someone else. Many have composed sonatas, but only Beethoven could create the sonatas that he did. Had he not created them, they would never have been.

Quotes You will usually find difficult to resist

Friday, June 20, 2008

How many friends I have?

From the poem could you make out, how many friends I have..I mean for how many friends of mine I have referred in this poem..If you make out about their physique and traits, then I promise you for a are you a game for it!!!

At one night able was I saw nine bright stars,
The height seems to keep them all at par.

One of the stars is looking at distant,
But the one is always been so important.

The next one seems utterly spiritual,
But the light is surely perpetual.

The other one is really so big,
You will be left with a lot lesson to pick.

The very next likes to freak,
But surely its mind always tweak.

One of them looks so sweet like a bull,
Yet he has got a lot more string to pull.

The one star you can never miss is with an elderly charm,
But the aura and brightness seems to be a celestial calm.

The small one tends to be ticklish,
But the big heart within is polished, yet not childish.

The other small one is full of tall philosophy,
However you will find it hard to ignore the genuine sympathy.

The one star can’t even speak of him,
The brightness in all sure never to get dim.

The unity in diversity can’t keep all of them apart,
Yet the willingness to diversify will always keep them intact.

Hard things of Life

Hardly is it easy to pen pain through a pen,
Nor did it difficult to train yourself run like a train.

Hard work makes you to gain always time and again
It does not take a man and a woman, as to err is human.

It’s hard to send a determined saint to sand,
It’s double hard to bend a band to disband.

The grain from seed of honesty never goes to drain,
And regular exercise most likely keep healthy your brain and brawn.

All great works look tine, shiny and sunny,
It mark brighter to make bunny many as many.

Hardly can one believe a silver lining has a bright dark,
Everybody will be in disbelief if you can’t leave the world a bright mark.

You are tantalizingly hung among stars yet always with a song,
O moon! You are born to burn still leaves a path for the sun to swing.

The whole world is much larger a paint to paint,
Still attend and tend scroll yourself in to as if this world a tent.


I had this amazing experience of flying a glider at IIT Kanpur. Our instructor used to call the control as we funnily call our flying as Joyride..I wrote this poem after one such experience...

On a fine afternoon first time I saw the horizon,
I was happy and amazed as if the show has just begun.

There is swirl, feel and a lot more than thrill,
And for the moment as if I am on a palace with an extra wheel.

The whole world seem so small
It compels me to think the free fall!

In the mid way there came upon a thunder
Thus remind me not to make any blunder.

I prayed to God and a thought came upon,
Again this is not the time to worry, but to beckon.

All of a sudden I landed safely,
All of a while a broad smile came on my face tamely.

This is life, all full of joy and equal tide,
Dude!! Don’t forget; this is just a joyride!!

The War

Why, now again this war?
Imagined by the same superpower!

Here you go in pursuit of weapon of mass destruction,
Instead gifted us a complete humanity termination!

Freedom of people, says you the motive,
Isn’t their undesired adieu make you pensive?

God given you the power to show others the path,
Contrary you find crippled humanity to vent your wrath!

I wish, God had given nobody the power,
And then would there be fear of any War?

Scientist at Work

This is my favorite poem. As I belong to this fraternity...

At the heart of the city there lies a park,
A quiet lot of souls seem to be at work.

All unaware of the pitch and dark,
All very aware, but to make a mark.

You feel as if the whole idea is about to spill,
But the real feel has been rotten in the heat of euphoria and thrill.

It seems they are fighting with their own soul,
Agony has risen, but no one perfect to console.

Now the soul has forgotten the real purpose of life,
It’s now always in need of something new and something to thrive.

Awake, amend and don’t let the soul to go,
Learn too quickly that you don’t have many lives to throw.

Alas! They completely immerse in search of tranquility,
O! That’s a permanent display of temporary insanity.

They promise to secure other’s future,
But theirs own present is in such a bad texture.

Their mind pretend to explode with spark,
Beware!! All scientist are at work!!!

Nature's Call

Men sometimes find something to gaze,
But nature always has a lot to amaze.

Men think, he got hordes of ideas to pour,
But nature always throws a lot more to explore.

Men always in a mood to conquer,
But again the nature gives something to savour.

Men got into a habit to destroy,
But the nature offers much to enjoy.

Men will always be a loser,
But the nature never claims to be a winner.

Alas! The man has got a lot to learn,
Yet the nature is always in good term.

One day man is sure to decease,
Surely nature’s offer never to cease.

We all surely owe a pledge to offer,
Let don’t be nature to suffer.

Life is beautiful

The world itself is so beautiful
Just you have to find it;
Watch it and Feel it, but
Do not ever try to touch it.

The flower is so beautiful
Just you have to breed it;
Grow it and Enjoy it, but
Do not ever try to pluck it.

The creation is so beautiful
Just you have to conceive it;
Make it and Spread it, but
Do not ever try to break it.

The life itself is so beautiful
Just you have to control it;
Take it and Use it, but
Do not ever try to shake it.

Living with the Enemy

Co-operation, co-existence, harmony all sounds fantastic
But within that inner soul, lays a fanatic.
Poverty, sufferings, brutality prompts you try
But the heart-within roars, none is worth your tear,
As the one who is worth never makes you cry.
Eradicate corruption, stop confrontation, thou say the superpower,
Don’t you think self purification, shelve self is the need of hour?
Spirituality, originality, spontaneity should be the trick,
But opportunity, individuality, famous identity makes you freak.
Autocratic, hypocrite, theocratic and a lot more lies in queue,
I must say, the real enemy lies right within you!!!

Why do people write blogs?

Why to write a blog? I asked one of my friend..point blank! It's the in-thing now..dude..he shots back!! Yeah..sure..I nodded. Some writes to earn their living (this is an understatement..people have made millions!!)..some wants to spread some social message..some others wants to discuss things like their hobbies, experiences, to share their expertise blah blah..some just doesn't want to waste their money on PRO (go ask Amitabh, Aamir, Shahrukh and hoards of new bollywood stars)..few others have, as my friend with Psychology major calls it, Attention Seeking Personality Disorder (ASPD)...and she is sure to add half a billion people as her client by the next year..So make your own judgment and believe whatever you want..but one thing is for sure..All the people wants to start a blog..because they want to DO something..because they are not if you want to start one..don't analyze why and ask too many Nike has put it so succinctly..Just Do It!!

Saturday, June 14, 2008

My second poem

When you are emotional you want to do something. Some wants to remain alone, some watch movies, some screams, some eats (if you happen to believe Adnan Sami) and what I do? Sometimes I want to write poems. This happened actually when I was at IIT Kanpur. At that time there was a lot of excitement about the NASA Columbia mission as Indian born astronaut Kalpana Chawla was on her second mission (January 16, 2003). But unfortunately The STS-107 Columbia mission ended abruptly on February 1, 2003 when Space Shuttle Columbia and the crew perished during entry, 16 minutes prior to scheduled landing. It was such an emotional moment for me. During the build up of the mission I read so much about her that I started adoring and respecting her. And finally when this happened I felt really terrible. For others she is long gone, but for me she is still fresh in my memory. She would always be an inspiration for me for my whole life. The poem is a tribute to her.

A tribute to Kalpana Chawla

A sweet little child, gazing the star at night;
Thought come upon her, can she become herself a star?
The child has grown up, maturity has shown up;
Thoughts propel her to take aero, as the sky is in her neuro.
Here comes a big leap, she landed on a spaceship.
She distributed the entire gift, now the time comes to make a shift.
Her obligations are over; God wants to take her with a cover.

May God fulfill all wishes of her; she already has become a bright star!

Random thoughts

Coming back to name..I wonder why people give some weird name to their blog, user name etc. Don't they want to be known by their own name? Why do they want to remain anonymous? If there is so much joy in remain anonymous why at all we go great length to choose a name? But I am sure everybody wants to make a name for themselves in the real world. It's the virtual world only that people wants to remain anonymous. Otherwise, just imagine Noble foundation giving the noble prize to some anonymous weird that will be!!

My first poem

This was written by one of my friend and edited by me. And I liked the poem so much that I wanted to call it mine (narcissist or plain plagiarism..hazard your own judgment).


The taste of victory: RELISH IT;

Your hordes of talents: CHERISH IT;

GOD has made you to WIN

Never allows the LIGHT in u get DIM.

Not just have things, but CHOOSE

As you are here to win, not to LOSE.

Aspirants are Many,

Achievers are FEW:

ONE of them must be YOU!!!

About name

What is there in a name?..huh..I broke my head to come up with this weird blog name..fortunately I did not have to choose my own name after my parents did the hard work...or the local priest did the trick..I don't know!! But could you stop breathing for a moment and look back..the recent trend is, after the child birth the parents are scrambling frantically the net to come up with an exotic (or the lack of it) name for their child..I do not know why? What if the child did not like name and change it later..all the research will go waste! But who cares..common..we live in the present..why to see the future which is so uncertain..some will say..hey..even I do not like my own name..who cares for my children? It's a common knowledge that few people likes their own name during childhood..but nobody cares (or dares) to change the name...But then why care for a name. After all what is their in a name?