Don't know why, but I find myself in an academic mood today. Please pardon me for these feeble attempts at explaining things that are too profound for a novice to declare command over. Nevertheless, it can be seen as an interesting challenge to be able to put the terms in a layman's language.
Cogito, ergo sum (I think, therefore I am) .This is a logical statement. It's not your regular wisecrack or an inspirational saying like "I believe, so I will. ", but a conclusion arrived at with much deliberation and analysis. The great philosopher Descartes spent years in seclusion, clearing up his mind of previously acquired wisdom, to come up with his Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason, and Seeking Truth in the Sciences.
The mindless adoption of the statement in puns and quips on TV and in everyday life goes to show how knowledge/things are taken for granted once they are created and ready to use. A classical example is "Zero". It took millenniums and civilizations, before "Zero" was "invented" and now we find it hard to even imagine that "Zero" was something which needed to be "invented”. To us, it now appears to be such a trivial concept that we put it in the syllabus for kindergartens. Please do read this link to appreciate the sweat gone into creating "Zero".
Returning to the topic of the day, why does "I think" conclude that "I am”? Why didn't he make a statement like "I breathe, therefore I am"? To get the answers, one must first know what the need for the statement was.
One of my friends is partially color-blind. The day we discovered his "condition", we were arguing over the color of a flag on a temple about half a km away; he claimed it was green while to me it was orange. Thankfully enough, a couple of other guys joined us and we won 3-1. Later on, that friend had a check-up done and the "condition" was diagnosed.
Still, the whole episode left me wondering, what if someone identifies a color as green, but the shade he perceives is what looks orange to me; and vice versa. The problem with my friend was that he saw both of them as one color which he called green. However, it seemed perfectly plausible that some other person perceives the color-spectrum in a different way like the way we do when we wear colored goggles; what if someone would have put a colored goggle on me right from the time I was born. I wouldn't have been diagnoised with color-blindness since I would have still distinguisehd between all the colors; just that the perception would have been different. Is there one "true" perception?
Descartes noticed many such inconsistencies around him. Then there were questions like what if reality as it appears to us is a dream too. Am I just a part of someone else's dream or imagination? Or things and people around me are nothing but creation of my mind.
So he decided to build a system based on reasoning alone and devised a few rules to help him do that. One of the most important rules is known as "Cartesian Doubt", which, in his own translated words, is to "reject as absolutely false everything concerning which I could imagine the least doubt to exist.” This explains why he cannot start with "I breathe, therefore I am". To make this statement, one must first define what is breathing. That would involve defining nose, air, lungs, life etc. Not an ideal way to begin. He doubted everything he perceived and nose was definitely amongst them.
Once again he beautifully explains: “considering that all the thoughts we have when awake can come to us also when we sleep without any of them being true, I resolved to feign that everything which had ever entered my mind was no more truth than the illusion of my dreams. But I observed that, while I was thus resolved to feign that everything was false, I who thought must of necessity be somewhat; and remarking this truth--I think, therefore I am--was so firm and so assured that all the most extravagant suppositions of the skeptics were unable to shake it, I judged that I could unhesitatingly accept it as the first principle of the philosophy I was seeking."
So there. That's why it is "I think" and not "I breathe" or "I sleep". Thinking is the first and only activity that is self-evident,verifiable and not needing a definition.
One must be careful here; the above reasoning does not allow me to conclude that Priyanka Chopra exists because she thinks. For me, she is an external being, a perception and hence may be part of an illusion. A lot more reasoning and arguments than the one involved in reaching this first principle is required to even start considering Priyanka Chopra's existence. However, when and if she is thinking, then she too can be sure of her existence only. I am afraid that even after establishing further principles, I won't be existing for her.
Another point to be noted here is that the reasoning involved to reach the statement, or the first principle as it is called, just means that "I" that is proven to be existing here is something that is thinking and not necessarily the "Prashant Dhanke" as I know him to be; in fact that existing, thinking thing is not even established to be a human being. Many more principles need to be established and reasoned before such complex statements can be discussed.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
In Praise Of Routine And In Glory Of Life
The skin is getting its colour back. The blood is pure red now; gallons of alcohol have drained off. Sometimes though, the eyes yearn for the watery horizon. The waves bring a million messages from the end of the world. The meanings and interpretations they represent are overwhelming. I can't wait to write about my conversations with them. But not now.
Now is the time to get out of the Goa hangover and get on with daily life, the reality, the one that sustains, the one that allows for such dreamy patches and so resolutely absorbs randomness. If it wasn't for the half an hour of Yoga and other health practices that each day of my routine life follows, I wouldn't have been able to ride the mighty horses eight days in a row with less than four hours of sleep and more than the same number of beers.
The efficiency and strengths of a disciplined life are enormous. I almost surprised myself last Monday by reporting to office half an hour earlier than usual, full of verve and all prim and proper in my formals ,very much unlike the half naked drunken wanderer in Goa just a day ago. I dig formals to death at workplace .On Fridays, it's easy to spot me in the office even if you don't know me; I would be the only man in the entire office with polished black shoes. I pay my bills at least two weeks in advance, the reason I was able to stay unexpectedly longer towards the end of the month without worrying about defaults. My car never runs out of fuel, there is always some money in my wallet, I always carry a spare pair of spects and almost always have a backup plan for even the silliest things I intend to do e.g. getting a haircut.
I shall not bore you further with all the optimizations done for making daily life easier and hence thoughts richer; some of them are heart wrenching. Let me just give an example and move on : while booking the air-tickets I always select the window seat numbered F rather than A, so that I could lean on my right hand for sleeping. Someone told me that my face looks less uglier from left side; so this helps too.
However, point is that an organised day-to-day life allows one to enjoy vacations and other deviations in better ways; but due to thinking and talking about Goa the entire last week, I am not able to get back into that rhythm of the routine. My body, mind and soul thrive on those patterns. That is the reason why I have decided to give a very short break to talking and blogging about the Goa trip and it's experiences and concentrate on other aspects for a while.
Still, I miss the lonely walks late in the nights. One can't go for a walk at two past midnight in Bangalore. I used to do that some times during my undergrad days at IIT Kharagpur. Yesterday I came across the video at this link, which left me with wonderful memories of those days. Yes, I agree that it doesn't do justice to the video of "Where the hell is Matt", but that's not the purpose anyway; just watch it for nostalgia.
The song played during the video is “Praan” by Gary Schyman, and the lyrics are from the poem "The Stream of Life" by Rabindranath Tagore. Below is the translation. One can so relate to the feelings when one stands watching the endless sea under the dark starry sky, and then the waves come, one after the other, and then the most youthful of them reaches out and slowly envelops the feet, bringing one out of numbness; heavenly is the touch of life, coming straight from the source and the infinity . Here goes the poem :
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
Now is the time to get out of the Goa hangover and get on with daily life, the reality, the one that sustains, the one that allows for such dreamy patches and so resolutely absorbs randomness. If it wasn't for the half an hour of Yoga and other health practices that each day of my routine life follows, I wouldn't have been able to ride the mighty horses eight days in a row with less than four hours of sleep and more than the same number of beers.
The efficiency and strengths of a disciplined life are enormous. I almost surprised myself last Monday by reporting to office half an hour earlier than usual, full of verve and all prim and proper in my formals ,very much unlike the half naked drunken wanderer in Goa just a day ago. I dig formals to death at workplace .On Fridays, it's easy to spot me in the office even if you don't know me; I would be the only man in the entire office with polished black shoes. I pay my bills at least two weeks in advance, the reason I was able to stay unexpectedly longer towards the end of the month without worrying about defaults. My car never runs out of fuel, there is always some money in my wallet, I always carry a spare pair of spects and almost always have a backup plan for even the silliest things I intend to do e.g. getting a haircut.
I shall not bore you further with all the optimizations done for making daily life easier and hence thoughts richer; some of them are heart wrenching. Let me just give an example and move on : while booking the air-tickets I always select the window seat numbered F rather than A, so that I could lean on my right hand for sleeping. Someone told me that my face looks less uglier from left side; so this helps too.
However, point is that an organised day-to-day life allows one to enjoy vacations and other deviations in better ways; but due to thinking and talking about Goa the entire last week, I am not able to get back into that rhythm of the routine. My body, mind and soul thrive on those patterns. That is the reason why I have decided to give a very short break to talking and blogging about the Goa trip and it's experiences and concentrate on other aspects for a while.
Still, I miss the lonely walks late in the nights. One can't go for a walk at two past midnight in Bangalore. I used to do that some times during my undergrad days at IIT Kharagpur. Yesterday I came across the video at this link, which left me with wonderful memories of those days. Yes, I agree that it doesn't do justice to the video of "Where the hell is Matt", but that's not the purpose anyway; just watch it for nostalgia.
The song played during the video is “Praan” by Gary Schyman, and the lyrics are from the poem "The Stream of Life" by Rabindranath Tagore. Below is the translation. One can so relate to the feelings when one stands watching the endless sea under the dark starry sky, and then the waves come, one after the other, and then the most youthful of them reaches out and slowly envelops the feet, bringing one out of numbness; heavenly is the touch of life, coming straight from the source and the infinity . Here goes the poem :
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.
I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
Monday, February 2, 2009
A few Snaps of the trip in Goa
Here are a few snaps. I am waiting for more from friends who may be kind enough to mail them at prashantdhanke@gmail.com if at all they are reading this blog.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Goa Trip : Introduction
So how was the trip ?
Words one expects to hear are : "Awesome", "Fantastic"," Disaster" ...
I am going to use similar words in a chain of posts devoted to Goa, but if there has to be an answer in as little word as possible, then I needn't utter a single word. The trip was planned for 4 days, but I ended up staying for 8 days. Action has, once again, roared louder than words.
I would be writing quite a few posts on the trip; this post is just to give an overview. The trip can be divided into two parts. The first 4 days (the planned ones) when Chitto was there with me and the last 4, when I stayed back and wandered around alone.
God has painted Goa a million times more colorful. Life and people are very different and even more interesting. And then there is the Sea: blue,benevolent, vast and playful. Of course, it is the troop of beaches that run the economy, but you've got to visit the place to see how charmingly humble the Sea is when it allows the land and its inhabitants to shine through.
I feel that right now I am too tired to do justice to the romance of the place, so let me quickly write down an unordered and incomprehensive list of things I would be talking about in weeks to come :
1. Experiences in the mighty Sea.
2. Beaches and the shacks.
3. Bike rides and water sports.
4. Excellent food and the drinks. (I didn't have a single meal sans alcohol for over 8 days).
5. The drunken walks on the streets and sea-shore late(very) at night. Sometimes I pictured myself as a lost soul, the other times as a warrior, or someone leaving Las Vegas, or...
6. Stay at the resort. Each hotel staff is a story in himself. Very friendly and interesting bunch.
7. People I met. This is going to be my favorite part.
There was this lunatic Russian; two Spanish ladies carrying their own paragliding kit ( pretty heavy); a Polish Kid on a beach who took a liking to me; people I met at the Titto's (the most over-rated place in Goa) and on the streets; another naughty kid Louise at the resort; the musicians who would come and play at the bar in the evenings; and then there were these three lovely ladies from UK , each prettier than the other, who soon became the life of the resort. The hotel staff named them "Pariyan", I prefer "Butterflies"; more colorful and yet so real.
8. Culture, tourists, haggling and miscellaneous.
Despite the excesses of the last week, my body( which is bronze now) isn't tired at all; but my brain is. Once I get in the groove, the detailed posts on each topics should be much more exciting and would do justice to the one heck of a trip I had.
Right now, all I need is some sleep; from one dream to another.
Words one expects to hear are : "Awesome", "Fantastic"," Disaster" ...
I am going to use similar words in a chain of posts devoted to Goa, but if there has to be an answer in as little word as possible, then I needn't utter a single word. The trip was planned for 4 days, but I ended up staying for 8 days. Action has, once again, roared louder than words.
I would be writing quite a few posts on the trip; this post is just to give an overview. The trip can be divided into two parts. The first 4 days (the planned ones) when Chitto was there with me and the last 4, when I stayed back and wandered around alone.
God has painted Goa a million times more colorful. Life and people are very different and even more interesting. And then there is the Sea: blue,benevolent, vast and playful. Of course, it is the troop of beaches that run the economy, but you've got to visit the place to see how charmingly humble the Sea is when it allows the land and its inhabitants to shine through.
I feel that right now I am too tired to do justice to the romance of the place, so let me quickly write down an unordered and incomprehensive list of things I would be talking about in weeks to come :
1. Experiences in the mighty Sea.
2. Beaches and the shacks.
3. Bike rides and water sports.
4. Excellent food and the drinks. (I didn't have a single meal sans alcohol for over 8 days).
5. The drunken walks on the streets and sea-shore late(very) at night. Sometimes I pictured myself as a lost soul, the other times as a warrior, or someone leaving Las Vegas, or...
6. Stay at the resort. Each hotel staff is a story in himself. Very friendly and interesting bunch.
7. People I met. This is going to be my favorite part.
There was this lunatic Russian; two Spanish ladies carrying their own paragliding kit ( pretty heavy); a Polish Kid on a beach who took a liking to me; people I met at the Titto's (the most over-rated place in Goa) and on the streets; another naughty kid Louise at the resort; the musicians who would come and play at the bar in the evenings; and then there were these three lovely ladies from UK , each prettier than the other, who soon became the life of the resort. The hotel staff named them "Pariyan", I prefer "Butterflies"; more colorful and yet so real.
8. Culture, tourists, haggling and miscellaneous.
Despite the excesses of the last week, my body( which is bronze now) isn't tired at all; but my brain is. Once I get in the groove, the detailed posts on each topics should be much more exciting and would do justice to the one heck of a trip I had.
Right now, all I need is some sleep; from one dream to another.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
God's Own Child
There were impatient knocks on my door this morning. I stopped Eminem swearing loudly on my Laptop, opened the door and found the delivery boy from Gas Agency carrying a ripe red Cylinder with a unbroken seal on it.
"Sir, Where do I put it ?"
I was speechless. This was nothing less than divine intervention, a prayer anwered before it was made. Last time I ordered for the cylinder, it was 2006. I still had some Gas left in that Cylinder, but have been thinking since last few weekends of ordering the next one soon; have heard people complaining how long it takes to get the Gas after the booking and that had me concerned about occasional noodles and Tea, my midnight oil. I don't cook by choice, but not being able to do so, due to constraints, restricts my independence.
I am not into sleep-walking/talking but suspected that maybe unconsciously I might have called the agency since such thoughts have been bothering me; so I said :
"Did I order it?"
"Should I take it back?" Delivery boy was being helpful and understanding here.
"Ummm...OK..put it inside." the girl agreed reluctantly.
While replacing he told me that the previous one still seems to have a Rs.50 worth Gas left. Before this Angel came into my life,I had been worrying that I might have to drive to the Gas agency for the new order since my account might have expired (last time it wasn't easy). So I was prepared to waste petrol as well as my time which, put together or apart, are worth way more than 50. Clearly this was a much better deal.
Besides, saying no to the God's messenger brings bad luck.
I further tried to take full advantage of this opportunity and gave him two slightly torn Rs.100 notes along with others. Some smart fellow offloaded them to me months back and since then I've been struggling hard to find a bigger fool, but found no buyers. Correctly judging that this guy wouldn't give a damn about those notes since his job is just to transport assets, I offered and he accepted. That's how shallow we both were in that moment.
So... Thank you Lord and forgive me for my sins.
"Sir, Where do I put it ?"
I was speechless. This was nothing less than divine intervention, a prayer anwered before it was made. Last time I ordered for the cylinder, it was 2006. I still had some Gas left in that Cylinder, but have been thinking since last few weekends of ordering the next one soon; have heard people complaining how long it takes to get the Gas after the booking and that had me concerned about occasional noodles and Tea, my midnight oil. I don't cook by choice, but not being able to do so, due to constraints, restricts my independence.
I am not into sleep-walking/talking but suspected that maybe unconsciously I might have called the agency since such thoughts have been bothering me; so I said :
"Did I order it?"
"Should I take it back?" Delivery boy was being helpful and understanding here.
"Ummm...OK..put it inside." the girl agreed reluctantly.
While replacing he told me that the previous one still seems to have a Rs.50 worth Gas left. Before this Angel came into my life,I had been worrying that I might have to drive to the Gas agency for the new order since my account might have expired (last time it wasn't easy). So I was prepared to waste petrol as well as my time which, put together or apart, are worth way more than 50. Clearly this was a much better deal.
Besides, saying no to the God's messenger brings bad luck.
I further tried to take full advantage of this opportunity and gave him two slightly torn Rs.100 notes along with others. Some smart fellow offloaded them to me months back and since then I've been struggling hard to find a bigger fool, but found no buyers. Correctly judging that this guy wouldn't give a damn about those notes since his job is just to transport assets, I offered and he accepted. That's how shallow we both were in that moment.
So... Thank you Lord and forgive me for my sins.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"Ascension" Short Fiction Contest
There's this cool short fiction contest going on here. You'll find some fantastic works there. None of the stories are more than 250 words; short flings you wouldn't mind indulging in.
Yes, there's an entry from BrownPhantom too here. He is the new kid on the block and it's his first attempt at writing. And it shows. I think the underlying idea is decent, but the composition is crude and technically weak when you compare them with some excellent contributions there. Still, have a look at it; you would have read a trashy post on this blog anyway.
It was an interesting experience with unique challenge of keeping within the word limit. I first wrote the piece and then counted the words to be 400. So I had to eliminate a few points and chop some of the sentences which sort of left me with the same feeling that girls have when they are smitten with that expensive dress near the window but settle for the one kept back in third row that lies within their budget.
I realized that I should have always kept the word-limit in mind and paced the piece accordingly. What happened was that I invited the whole group for a ride but the driver later on brought a smaller taxi; unwilling to deny any of them a place I requested each one of them to adjust which led to every one's discomfort and two of them left fuming.
All said and done, I enjoyed the experience and am already waiting for the next one. Also, couldn't stop reading the other stories. It's a great display of varying perspectives that human mind conjures from a same source. It is surreal. Thank to Jason Evans who is the creator of the blog and the contest.
Yes, there's an entry from BrownPhantom too here. He is the new kid on the block and it's his first attempt at writing. And it shows. I think the underlying idea is decent, but the composition is crude and technically weak when you compare them with some excellent contributions there. Still, have a look at it; you would have read a trashy post on this blog anyway.
It was an interesting experience with unique challenge of keeping within the word limit. I first wrote the piece and then counted the words to be 400. So I had to eliminate a few points and chop some of the sentences which sort of left me with the same feeling that girls have when they are smitten with that expensive dress near the window but settle for the one kept back in third row that lies within their budget.
I realized that I should have always kept the word-limit in mind and paced the piece accordingly. What happened was that I invited the whole group for a ride but the driver later on brought a smaller taxi; unwilling to deny any of them a place I requested each one of them to adjust which led to every one's discomfort and two of them left fuming.
All said and done, I enjoyed the experience and am already waiting for the next one. Also, couldn't stop reading the other stories. It's a great display of varying perspectives that human mind conjures from a same source. It is surreal. Thank to Jason Evans who is the creator of the blog and the contest.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Stupid Tit-Bits
1. Phantom Fetish
Long ago, when there used to be not more than a single hit per day on this blog, I would check each visitor’s location and referring URL on Sitemeter. So, one fine day there was a visitor all the way from Denmark. Pleasantly surprised to have a guest from a developed country on the blog, I went on to check the referring URL. He (I strongly believe it is not “She”) had come through Google search results for “Phantom + Vagina”.
I was filled with guilt for wasting his time. The culprit is this link along with the Blog title. The only solace for me is that he stayed on this blog for a good 40 minutes which is as good a tribute as this blog could've expected from someone seeking his fantasies. It’s quite hard to hold attention of a man who knows what he wants, especially when you offer, well, nothing. Awfully enough, this post’s title ensures that he might reach here once again if he tries to search for other anatomical parts of his Phantom princess. By the way, it’s unfair to assume that he was seeking porn; the search results show other possibilities.
2. Go Goa Go
Looks like Mr. TripToGoa would be hitting a century soon. Flights are booked, rooms reserved and mood is upbeat. Life’s tough since I have pretty high standards to meet. The last beach I sipped my whisky on was in a place called Miami . Previous to that, I was on the beaches of Texas and Florida during Spring-Break WooHooooo. Those feeling jealous need not worry a hell lot: I’m not gonna post any snaps here; might just describe a few incidents here and there which you may assume to be empty boasts. Did I tell you that I was a palmist during the spring break and a painter by profession in Miami?
3. Oral Affairs
To a man having a bad day, we say in Hindi: “Kiski shakal dekhee thee subah subah?” which loosely translates to “Whose face did you see first thing in the morning?” Cockroach it was for me today. Comfortable perched on the toothbrush. The sight broke my heart for three reasons.
Reason number one has to do with my principle to kill one when I see one. I am kind to ants but cruel to cockroaches. A slow drowning death with the smell of pesticide must have been its last memories.
The second reason was the realization that for every crime that is caught, there have been five committed that aren’t. The third one was that in real life in my bathroom, the 'Copenhagen Interpretation' amounts to nothing, which, in turn meant that I cannot just ignore what has been observed and hence go down to buy a new toothbrush and consequently climb up the four floors when the deed is done.
Now that we are discussing toothbrushes, here’s a handy tip to keep in mind while buying one. Choose the weirdest looking toothbrush at the shop; more so if you plan to visit your relatives for days. I bought a dark purple one with yellow lines on it. In case you wondered about who the potential buyers are for those distastefully colored toothpastes , the answer is : Wise men who have been there, suffered that.
I had planned on writing three more stupid bits, but telephonic interruptions have delayed the endeavor. It’s time to sleep now. Tomorrow morning I am gonna put that filthy six incher in my mouth. The act would continue for a few minutes leaving my mouth filled with froth which I must spit and not swallow. Let me check if there’s a Little Johnny joke on the same lines. Readers, please send me a link if you find one.
I am ashamed of the perverted undertone of this entire post.
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