Believe it or not?

Off late I have come to believe that I should not completely believe, what I believe!

The beliefs that we hold are based on our convenience and the narrowness of our perception. The world is not really made of tables, cars, computers, people, houses, geographical locations etc. All of these are just concepts. Concepts made by us according to our convenience and the level of our perception. I mean is it a table my computer is kept on or is it a piece of wood or is it a collection of cellulose, hemicelluloses, lignin or is it protons, electrons, neutrons (quarks!). The point is I see it and believe its a table. A table is just a concept made out of my convenience,conditioning and the scale of my perception but that doesn’t mean that there are not other levels to it. A table can be perceived in numerous ways, an ant would perceive a table as something else – something based on its scale of perception.

If I see this picture above I will say its a table designed By Frank Lloyd Wright oh! sorry I mean its a ‘picture of the table’ designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. What am I saying! I must be out of my mind, these are actually ‘pixels on my computer screen looking like a picture of the table’ designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. So what actually is it! what am I really seeing.

Will I not look at this thing and feed myself a concept most convenient to me about it.

I have realized that the most beautiful types of sciences and arts emerge when we go beyond our normal level of perception and see things/people/concepts from another level. The level that is not generally very convenient.

But how do I go to this another level. My director said to me some days ago ‘ If you will not leave what you are holding right now, how will you ever experience new things’.

The newness will not be in the things that you will see, it will be in your point of view!

Otherwise the world is surely made of tables, cars, computers, houses, humans, roads, mountains and stupidity!

It is the other way!

I have been spending all my waking hours to not fall for it. All my dreams are hence filled with it. I burn in my dreams as I would burn during the day trying to keep the fire away. I know no way to stay. Still I am standing still, here at this very place for an unusually long time. Patiently seeing the fire burning during the day, calmly feeling the burns in my dreams. Thinking of the leap into the fire. I know for sure it will happen on that one day, when it wouldn’t matter anyway. I have felt all the burns already, I have thought all the thoughts already. I have spent all my waking hours to not fall for it.

Oh! spending so much time on keeping a thought away does make you fall for it!

Serious doubts!

Whatever I am and whatever I do has been borrowed from some where/ someone – people I have seen, people who have taught me, books I have read, films I have watched etc etc.

Still I keep holding this individuality of mine close to my heart. Not only do I protect it physically I am ready to fight for my mental concepts.

The mental concepts which this universe selected for me and made me interact with.

I designed

I wrote a story

I discovered/ invented

I wrote this blog post

which ‘I’ am I talking about? To form this ‘I’ so much was fed to it by others for years and so much is being fed now.

Like each individual is a permutation of the same (copies) sets of genes so is each individual a permutation and combination of a set of thoughts, desires, ideas (memes).

Oh! but here lies the catch – even if the above statement is true still the DNA (comprising of genes) in no two humans is the same and the ideas and concepts in no two human brains are all exactly the same (despite similar inputs).

Even if you have shared my life and had similar experiences while we were awake I am sure of one thing the dreams that I dream at night are unshared and un-seen by anyone.

Are they signs of my Individuality? Or you may say that I dream of things that I think about through the waking hours and hence it does not matter weather other people have shared this virtual reality of mine or not- they have shared its seed.

I am still searching for the individuality (see its so strong I am not even thinking of searching the collectivity).

This post has been sown in my mind by Renu Satija (my biology teacher), Hofstader (I am a strange loop), Richard Dawkins (Selfish Genes and Selfish Memes) and a dream I saw this afternoon.

Still it is ‘I’ who wrote this here…

Coins for an airplane fare

No wings and a dire need to fly,

I need an airplane

and the fare is high.

Though I have been collecting for a while

in  boxes made of mud and wood

my money, is all in small coins

unspent on other desires since childhood.

For the flight

I pay the fare in coins

and after the rise I walk out of the plane,

without wings and a dire need to fly.

So again each day I collect coins

weirdly shaped and sized.

Some small like time, some heavy as my mind.

Having flown often you say ‘its just once or twice

maybe thrice and the thrill will die,

the airplane will loose its charm and so will the flight’

but only if you knew how I had collected my coins

and how I had tore open all the boxes of mud and wood

for that airplane flight,

only if you knew  that walking was not even an option

even without wings I needed to fly

you would know it will never loose the fascination

only if you had seen how I collect each coin…

Storyless Story!

Love dreams hope faith madness belief confidence grace longing desire fear care death illusion flight films magic strong sad intense perfect determination logic silent alone hearty romantic people experiences time walking heavy muddled complexes pain joys healing aspirations innocence blames trust disbelief strange lasting coincidences anger stubborn difficult repentance pink soulmate rushed tender stupid impatient acting daring questioning calling leaving storing observing changing holding bliss improving calm momentary analyzing believing.

my storyless story (storiasenzastoria)

तुम्हारी ही भाषा में तुम से

मैं सिर्फ़ अपनी बात कहना चाह रही थी, मैने कभी लिखते हुए सोचा नहीं की क्यों लिख रही हूँ. पर आजकल अचानक बहुत ज़्यादा लिखने लगी हूँ. पहले कभी-कभी लिखती थी इधर उधर ड्रॉयिंग के काग़ज़ों पर. कभी भी आपना लिखा हुआ संभाल कर नहीं रखती थी.किसी को अपना लिखा पढ़ाने में तो मेरी जान ही निकल जाया करती थी – यह सोच कर मुझे बहुत डर लगता था की अगर इसने मेरा लिखा पढ़ लिया तो इसे पता चल जाएगा की मैं कैसा सोचती हूँ.
मैं क्या सोचती हूँ ये मैं किसी को भी पूरी तरह बताना नहीं चाहती, यहाँ तक की अपने आप को भी सिर्फ़ कभी-कभी ही बताती हूँ.

कभी जब मुझे बहुत सारा साहस चाहिए होता है.

मुझे आपने से शायद प्रेम है, बहुत प्रेम. मुझे अपनी सोच से भी प्रेम है. मुझे डर था की ये प्रेम किसी को दिख जाएगा तो वो मुझ पर बहुत हँसेगा.

उस दिन मैं स्टेशन पर बैठी थी एक दोस्त के साथ और एक आदमी आया जिसे मैने एक पल के लिए देखा. उसने भी एक पल के लिए उस बेंच को देखा जिस पर मैं बैठी थी. उस एक पल में मुझे कुछ अजीब सा दिखा उसकी आँखों में – मैं सही-सही नहीं कह सकती की क्या पर कुछ अजीब था. फिर मैने देखा की उसके हाथ में एक सूटकेस था और वो नंगे पावं था. मैने एक कहानी बना ली अपने दिमाग़ में कि शायद यह बहुत दिनों से स्टेशन्स पर सो रहा है, कहीं से भाग कर आया है बॉम्बे, शायद लोगों का समान भी चोरी करता हो वगेरह- वगेरह.

यह सारी कहानी मैने बाद में बनाई पर मुझे ऐसा लगा की वो जो एक पल था जब मैने उसकी आँखे देखी थी और जिस पल मुझे कुछ अजीब सा लगा था दरअसल यह कहानी कुछ -कुछ उसी वक़्त बन चुकी थी मेरे दिमाग़ में, बस मैने उसे थोड़ी देर उसे और ध्यान से देख कर आपनी इस कहानी को पूरा कर लिया.

इस घटना से मुझे एक अजीब सा डर लगा, मैं तो किसी को अपना लिखा पढ़ाने में डरती हूँ की कहीं उसे यह ना पता चल जाए की मैं क्या सोचती हूँ…पर अगर एक छण को किसी अजनबी की आँख में मुझे एक कहानी दिख गयी थी, तो इसका मतलब है की मेरी सारी कहानियाँ तो उन सब को दिख जाती होंगी जिनसे मैं अक्सर मिलती हूँ. पूरी तरह सही सही ना भी सही पर उन्होने मेरी आँखें देख कर कितनी कहानियाँ बना ली होंगी मेरे बारे में.

कुछ दिन पहले एक व्यक्ति ने मेरी बात सुननी और समझनी छोड़ दी, उसने शायद एक कहानी बना ली मेरे बारे में. मैने बहुत समझने और समझाने की कोशिश की पर फिर मुझे लगने लगा शायद मैं किसी और भाषा में बोल रही हूँ, किसी ऐसी भाषा में जो उसे समझ नहीं आती.

मैने सोचा भाषा बदल कर देखूँ शायद वो मेरी बात सुने.

पर इस स्टेशन वाली घटना ने मुझे समझा दिया की यह मैं ग़लत सोच रही थी अगर मैं फ़ारसी में भी कहती, या चुप भी रहती – तो भी उसे पता तो था ही की मैने क्या सोचा है. वो तो मेरी शक्ल पर, मेरी आँखों में पूरी तरह दिख रहा होगा – तो मैने कहा या नहीं कहा या फ़ारसी में कहा या फ्रेंच में, लिखा या नहीं लिखा क्या फरक पड़ा.

हाँ इतना ज़रूर है की जैसे उस स्टेशन वाले व्यक्ति की कहानी जो मैने समझी शायद सच ना हो पूरी तरह, हो सकता है मेरी कहानी जो उसने बनाई थोड़ी जल्दी जल्दी में, मेरे कहे हुए सिर्फ़ एक-दो वाक्यों से शायद पूरी तरह सच ना हो.

मुझे उससे कहना है कि – कभी वक़्त मिले तो पूरी कहानी सुनियेगा, अपनी कहानी सुनाने में मुझे बहुत मज़ा आएगा (मैने कहा ना मुझे खुद से बहुत प्रेम है).

‘I’ in Hofstadter’s eyes

In life,

In anomalies of time

In  Déjà vu and shrines.

With eyes closed,

Even with open mind.

I was searching for the mystery called ‘I’.

When I reached half way through this book,

Where my heart skipped a beat at the mention of a loop.

Now when the answer seems so near,

Oh! how I am scared of it all being so clear.

‘I’ want it to be more than just an illusion,

I want ‘me’ to exist -

Not just in your perception;

But in the concreteness of concrete if concrete is real,

I think I will have to see it with your eyes my ‘Ideal’,

Out of this loop within loop.

I do want to know all answers,

But now I am scared of a book.

Cinderella

Where do you draw the line between real and imaginary? This keyboard, this computer is real as I can see it and touch it and although I don’t know who is reading this post and where – yet I believe that the person reading this is real.

So let me ask you – is Cinderella real?

The fairy tale in which she lives is real or imaginary?

I met this old woman one day and as we sat talking about things – suddenly out of the blue she told me that I look like Cinderella to her. Probably it was the dress I was wearing that day or the two tightly tied pleats I had made for my Grand rehearsal for the play.

As the discussion went ahead I told her jokingly that I am hoping to get my glass slipper on 25th December at midnight.

It was 25th December, I was on stage performing. It was the last show of our play. We had been rehearsing for it for over 2 months. The play had a sequence where all of us were suppose to compete for a shoe.The director had left it open-ended, anyone could win that shoe. I had never wanted that shoe, I had never won in any of the rehearsals.

But this time the director had made some changes in our positions and the new position gave me a better chance of getting the shoe. Besides, a small desire had filled my heart to feel the ecstasy of acting out winning on stage ever since all of us were made to rehearse it in the Grand rehearsal since anyone could win.

Loaded with all these coincidences I won a white colored left leg PT shoe that day (no match for a glass slipper…eh!). The same day after the play I lost one of my favorite red colored sandal backstage (left leg of course! It was a day of coincidences)

So now I had a PT shoe for one leg and a red colored sandal for the other one.

It was weird and I should have been frustrated at the stupidity of the situation but at that very moment I remembered the conversation with the old lady. I couldn’t help but smile   (I am smiling even now while writing this).

Nobody around me knew but in my head I was Cinderella that night. It was 25th December and sandals and shoes were playing tricks on me.

So where do you draw the boundary now, did I only loose a red colored sandal and won a white colored PT shoe that day. Was this the only reality? The smile on my face was real for sure. The reason for that smile was the fairy tale of Cinderella, if I never knew the fairy tale I would just be frustrated at the loss of a dear red sandal.

Now I know what that old woman saw in me to call me Cinderella, probably she saw that I am challenging the boundary of reality, I was ready to believe in the reality of ideas and the reality of fairy tales as long as they can make me smile!