Friday, March 23, 2012

What should I do today?


Today,


Kill,
A few demons that haunt you.
Overcome,
Some fears that lie within you.
Forgive,
The comrades who left you.
Let go,
Of the inhibitions that restrain you.


And,
Acquire new demons and fears and dhokebaaz comrades and inhibitions...


Experience,
A new emotion that stirs you up.
Start,
An adventure that you dreamt up.
Write,
A new story that you thought up.
Make,
New friends of people you meet up.


And,
Stash away old emotions and past adventures and purani kahaniyan and childhood friends...


Because,
Life - Dynamic Equilibrium is where its at.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

The essence of life and information


waaaonn waaaonn waaaonn
I revolve around a nucleus, until..
blonggg!
A photon hits me, absorbing into me, knocking me out of my orbit..
wheeeeeeeeee
I zoom through the crystal lattice, accelerating around kernels, then suddenly...
bammmmm!
I hit one kernel smack in the middle, it captures me and makes me loose my photon.


The photon hitches a ride parasitically from electron to electron
until it reaches its destination - having carried a piece of information to its destination.


These engineers, I tell you, they revere us electrons.
They service our whims and fancies, manipulating us into doing work for them.


The Electrical ones make us merry-go-round around wires extracting mechanical work from our forced sojourns


The Radio Engineers make us go back and forth on antennas, causing us to emit photons
which absorb into our counterparts in other antennas causing them to monkey us.
They say that this monkeying is what carries information - frankly we fail to see this.


Electronic engineers are sadistic enough to transport information by attaching and detaching photons to us.


Fibre Optic engineers on the other hand have given up on us altogether.
They create special pipes of light to carry photons. They say "who needs electrons, when we can manipulate photons directly"


Puny humans. Little do they realise, we are the cause of their existence - the source of the essence that permeates their neural networks.


And when their time comes, we de-excite and fall back into our nuclear orbits, flooding them with a last splurge of light as we drown out their essence.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Sinking in..

Two of my best friends got married to each other. 6 months later, the better half has this to say about her husband:

shaadi ki album ka soft copy aaya, album dekhke yaad aaya ki kamine se shaadi kar li hi maine! arre sink hi nahi ho raha tha yaar


hahaha! both of them have an uncanny ability of captioning the whole situation in a short symbolic manner. They are two of the most awesomest friends I have!

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

An Ode to Hydrogen Bond

You are the great sculpturer, of sculptures and sculpting tools alike.
Creator of furniture that holds in place all the micro-components of life.

Holding the rungs of the spherical twisting ladder,
the rungs whose sequence uniquely defines each of us.

Folding on themselves like origami, under your influence, 
wandering chains of amino acids turn into enzymes -
becoming tools that take apart, copy and mend our chemical ladders repeatedly.

To build our bodies, 
secret instructions on the rungs are read and deciphered and followed,
by miniature automatons, which owe their existence to you.

You are the magic behind the most magical liquid - water

Without you, the fibres of our clothes and our bodies would fall apart
O holy hydrogen bond, I bow fold to thee.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

The age of the specialist

The sponge has begun to drip.
It is full; it has soaked all it can.


So naive it was when it first started out - 
 loving the sensation,
 feeling itself uncrinkling,
 as it began absorbing the sweet nectar of knowledge.
It thought it could soak it all.
What looked like a small puddle,
 on bloating and thus looking higher,
 turned out to be an immense unconquerable ocean.


So today I, the possesssor of this sponge,
 stand at the edge of this ocean,
 pinching repeatedly at my sponge,
 making it drip from the right places,
 allowing it to let go of selected wisdom - 
 wisdom I think I no longer must hold on to,
 to make space for the ones I must yet acquire.


I have chosen my stand.
I know I cannot be an engineer any more.
The Engineer's Ocean has grown beyond the capacity of a single sponge.
I squeeze out drops of knowledge that don't resonate with what I have chosen to become -
a specialist in search of problems.
Problems that could only be washed away by an eclectic mix of knowledge and skills.
A mix held only by me within the voids of my sponge.