Thursday 22 December 2011

Bravery

The two kingdoms, one small and the other larger, had now been fighting over some long-forgotten issue since a time that no one cared to remember anymore. The larger kingdom, ruled by a just and wise king, was winning. But too heavy a price had already been paid for this. Too many men had been lost on both sides and too much money had been poured into the war for any of the parties to be able to back out now.

The oppressive king of the smaller kingdom passed a new order, making it compulsory for all able-bodied men to enlist in the army and join the war to bring victory to their king. The order was met with meek voices of protest from the scared residents of a small village of that kingdom. Everyone knew that victory was out of the question. Going on a war against the technologically superior armies of their enemy kingdom was like going on a suicide mission. No soldier who had gone from the village till now had returned. All the young and healthy men in the village had become martyrs to the whims of their king. The ones left were old, unenthusiastic and feeble. They had neither the strength nor the will to revolt against the king, which meant that the order had to be obeyed. And to ensure that everyone obeyed the order and no one was left out, the king had even sent out an officer to each village. So everyone knew there was no other option; yet, no one wanted to accept their helplessness. No one ever wants to lead on the path of death.

The peasant was on the farm when the royal messenger proclaimed the new order. He was just an assembly of bones; weak and frail. He hadn't had much to eat in the past week. He had a wife and four children, waiting at home with empty stomachs. He saw the reaction of other men in the village. They were not ready to accept that they had no choice. But the peasant knew there was no way out. He might be week but he still was able-bodied. He accepted his fate. What the villagers saw, silenced them all. They stared in astonishment as the frail peasant dropped his plough on the field and walked up to the officer. He was ready to go to war. The other men in the village, silenced due to their shame at not having had as much courage as the peasant, marched up and join the waiting officer. He had accepted his fate. The people mistook it for Bravery. Needless to say, he never returned to his family but for generations to come, the people talked of the peasant as the bravest of the men who were born in that village.

In the meantime, the king of the larger kingdom was faced with a situation. His army was in need of fresh batches of troops to be deployed on the frontier. But he didn't have to force men to enlist. He hoped that there would still be enough young men left, who would be willing to lay down their lives voluntarily for their motherland. He passed the order: the kingdom needed them; all those who wished could join the army.

When the announcement was made, many a men volunteered – mostly people who were experienced; either blacksmiths, who were used to dealing with weapons or men who had participated in wars sometime in the past. No one needs second telling on the path to glory. As soon as the youth heard the news, he ran towards the town center, where wagons were being prepared to leave with all the enlisting men. Hoards of people had crowded around to cheer them up and wish them well. The youth ran up to the place and jumped into one of the wagons. The people were astonished to see this. He was the son of the richest family in the town and was to inherit the family business. His marriage was scheduled in a week’s time. He had all the things going for him. Yet he chose to leave all this behind and go to war? He had no experience of war. He was from a rich family and had never even been in a street fight in his life. He wouldn't last a single day on the field. Yet they were struck by the fearlessness in his eyes, by his determination. So they said nothing. The youth had made the decision of his life. He just did not believe that anything could happen to him. He would be victorious and would return home a hero. He was not ready to think about death yet. He still had a long way to go. Everyone thought he would die, but he knew he won’t. He denied his fate. The people mistook it for Bravery. Needless to say, he never returned to his family but for generations to come, the people talked of the youth as the bravest of the men who were born in that town.


-TheDreamer

The Demons Inside Me

There are demons inside me,
tearing up my insides,
splitting me apart,
leaving me undecided on my choices in life.

There are demons inside me,
they are numerous and strong,
my past, present, and my future
along with my love, anger, hate pain, right and wrong.

There are demons inside me,
each one a war on its own,
i either survive or perish,
coz it's a battle that i have to fight alone.

There are demons inside me,
and each day the fight goes on,
it may be exhausting,
but i'll still defend my dreams,
my happiness, my choices, my life itself,
till all these demons are gone.

--TheDreamer

Saturday 16 July 2011

The Lonely Road

(The following poem talks of a man who is doubtful about the path which leads to a future of love and happiness. He realizes that he has to complete the journey, and that too all alone. He is no coward but he just needs an assurance that the path he has chosen really is the correct one or not.)

The path is dark and scary.
Without you or any light to guide me.
It's like an alley,
where my life's backdoor has landed me.

My footsteps echo through the darkness,
my heavy breath sounding too loud.
My heart pounding through my ears,
reminding me of all my fears.

Do I really know what I'm doing?
Does this alley lead where i think it does?
or will I just see Death awaiting me,
in all his majesty on a throne of bones,
or maybe not,
coz it might be too dark to see.

But to death is not the road that I want.
I want the one to you.
I would find the courage,
to come down the passage,
if only i knew for sure.
That you await my arrival,my dear love,
at the end of this sinister tour.

I know for sure, I have that faith,
that you do wait for me somewhere.
But what I know not my love,
is if this treacherous road,
would ever lead me there.

Wednesday 22 June 2011

Order your Death


(This is an article inspired by a lecture in my Thermodynamics class by one of my favorite professors at IISER-K, Dr. Narayan Bannerjee. I have used the fundamental principle of entropy and have attempted to explore a bit of Philosophy with its aid.)

The second law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of the universe can only increase. It takes time getting used to the notion of Entropy, but a simple way to imagine it is as a degree of randomness or disorder of a system. The more disordered a system, the higher is its entropy. Thermodynamics allows us to calculate the entropy of various systems undergoing different processes, analytically. But a simpler way to analyse entropy is to simply talk of whether it increases or decreases in a given process. If a system absorbs heat, it molecules shake around more vigorously, making the system more randomized and thus increasing its entropy. If a system gives off heat, its entropy decreases.

Now that we’ve had the preliminaries out of the way, let’s get down to business. I was trying to figure out if entropy increases or decreases in the process of being born. But I was having difficulties deciding whether heat is absorbed or released during birth (wish I had been born with a thermometer in hand). So then I thought that it would be easier if I figured out the entropy change of death first.

We, being warm-blooded animals, maintain a constant body temperature throughout our life. But death puts a hold on our thermostat and a dead body cools down rapidly, finally achieving room temperature. For that matter, living things can be defined as machines which carry out molecular processes, taking in energy and utilizing it in order to prevent themselves from falling into equilibrium with their environment. So the body cools down and loses heat as it does so. I guess that is what they mean when they say that dying is “becoming one with the universe.” The body also starts decomposing after death, and that too releases heat. This release of heat can be seen as a decrease of entropy. So a dead body is more ordered than a living one! When a person dies, disorder decreases, and this can be seen as achieving peace and nirvana.

Coming back now to our original problem of entropy change in birth. I was still finding it difficult to put a finger on whether heat is, on the whole, absorbed or released in the nine month human gestation period. So I decided to simplify the problem a bit by considering not the entire pregnancy but only the Eureka moment. The Eureka moment for the child is its moment of formation, i.e. the moment when the two gametes fuse to form a single cell, the zygote. This process, called fertilisation, is easier to analyze than the entire nine months. When two cells combine to form one, the most considerable change in energy is the one in the surface energy. Free surfaces of cells, soap bubbles and similar stuff have an energy associated with them, known as surface energy. The larger the free surface, greater the surface energy of the object. It is to minimize this surface energy that things like bubbles, when left to themselves assume a spherical shape. Anyways, when two cells combine, the resulting surface area is lesser than the sum of their individual areas. So, the surface energy decreases in cell fusion. This decrease in surface energy is released in the form of heat during fertilisation. If heat is released then that means that entropy decreases when the gametes fuse and give rise to a new life. So birth involves a decrease in entropy and a corresponding increase in the order of the system. So being born is more ordered than being unborn.

Having established that, we also consume a lot of food on a daily basis, throughout our lifetimes. Where does all this energy go? We, being warm-blooded, use this energy for maintaining our body temperatures. Our surroundings are cooler than us and so, this energy, in the process of keeping us warm, is lost out to the environment as heat. So does this mean entropy is decreasing? Well, it doesn’t. The reason is that we are supposed to look at the net energy exchange. The net energy exchange is zero since our body temperatures are constant. All the food that we consume is thrown out as heat. So our entropy remains more or less a constant during our lifetimes. And finally, as we have already seen, death too causes a decrease in entropy.

So, we attain a greater order when we are born, then our “orderliness” remains unchanged in our lifetimes, and finally, it increases again when we die. So, we are at the peak of our orderliness after death. So is being born and then dying equivalent to never being born atall? It seems that the answer is no. You would be more disordered if you happen never to be born in this world.

But one may ask if being more ordered or disordered really matter. What difference does it make in the long run? I confess, I really cannot imagine any importance whatsoever that one’s orderliness might have in the afterlife. But one thing is for sure. In case it is preferred to be more ordered than disordered, then one question is bound to arise. We may ask that if during our lifetimes, our orderliness remains constant, and will increase only when we die, then what is the need to experience this agonizing life at all. Why not take a shortcut and move towards greater order? If order is all that we want, then why not, order your own death?
-        

Sunday 19 June 2011

Someone's at the door - A silent play


(I am a member of the Dramatics Club of IISER Kolkata, named AARSHI which means a mirror in Bengali, and there we occasionally script our own plays. This is a silent play that I came up with.)


The curtains rise.

The scene is set in the drawing room of a modest household. The furniture consists of a couch in the center, facing the audience, a couple of chairs in one end of the stage and a table in the other. In the background is a massive clock. To the side with the chairs, is the main door of the house.

The clock tolls 6 pm as the wife dressed in her nightgown is seen sitting on the couch, again and again looking at the door with anger and impatience. She gets up, goes into one corner, brings back some vegetables and sinks back onto the couch. Her eyes still fixed on the door, her face twisted in reproach and contempt, she starts chopping the vegetables rather vigorously.

The door bell sounds, shattering the silence of the house. The wife gets up eagerly, knife still in hand and takes a couple of hurried steps towards the door. But she stops, her hands on her hips, while her face lights up with some sinister idea. She waits and does not make a move towards the door. A minute later, there is another buzz of the bell. The wife continues to stand in place, with her satisfaction-filled smile widening every second. After about half a minute more, the door bell sounds again, now for a longer time, reflecting the obvious impatience of the ringer. The wife waits for one more round of ringing before moving towards the door, in the confident steps of someone who has triumphed, and has no desire to let the moment end quickly. She reaches the door and opens it with a fast movement of her one hand, the other hand brandishing the knife. She retracts a few steps with a gasp of surprise and bewilderment as she sees the young boy standing at the door. It is obviously not the person she had presumed it to be. The boy in the meanwhile is more than just surprised. He is visibly scared and is staring wide-eyed at the large knife in her hand. So-much-so that he forgets to hand over the stack of ironed clothes that he is carrying in his hands. The wife gathers her wits and shoving a 20 rupees note into his hand from the purse hanging besides the door on a hook, hurriedly takes the clothes from him and shuts the door on his still bewildered face. She moves back into the room, keeps the clothes on the table and slumps backwards onto the couch. She sits there a while, seeming to contemplate the fool that she has made of herself. After a minute or so, she gets up and shakes her head vigorously, as if she is trying to literally shake off the unpleasant experience. She paces the floor in short bursts of energy, pausing for long in between, thinking, and then resuming the pacing. She seems to steadily calm down and regain her composure.

Just as the clock strikes 7 pm, she seems to be struck by another idea. She walks over to the phone kept on the table, picks it up and dials a number. A few seconds later, a woman’s voice, which can be heard clearly by all, says, “the number you are trying to reach, is currently not reachable. Please try again later.” She drops the phone back into its cradle, regaining her initial anger and impatience. She walks back to the couch and resumes her vigorous chopping while glancing at the door again and again. She continues to chop for a while, muttering angrily under her breath all the time. She finishes chopping the vegetables and moves over to the table, placing them there, when the door bell sounds once again. She starts once more for the door, clearly very anxious to open the door. But a couple of steps later, she stops, the sinister smile appearing on her face once more, and she pauses. About a minute passes and the bell sounds one more time. The expression on her face suddenly changes, her confidence falters and she seems to have changed her mind. She moves towards the door, before looking down at her hand which is still holding a knife. She turns back and places the knife on the table before walking hurriedly towards the door. Just outside the door, she smoothes her gown, and tucks the few strands of free hair back into her bun, before carefully opening the door. This time too, it seems the person at the door is not the one she had been expecting as she gives out a loud gasp of surprise and clasps her hand to her mouth in disbelief and fear. The man at the door viciously pushes his way in, shoving her inside and slamming the door shut. With a somewhat awkward movement of his hand, he pulls out a swiss-knife from his coat pocket, flips it open, and points it at her throat in a threatening way. She is still too shocked to react and does not move while he brings the blade close to his lips and then imitates an action of slitting his own throat. She seems to understand and does not make a sound. He advances a few steps towards her but sways wildly and staggers forward, regaining his balance at the last moment. He moves closer to her staring into her bewildered eyes and flashing a crooked grin. She takes back a few steps, covering her nostrils with her hand, unable to withstand the odor of alcohol, throwing him a look of intense disgust and loathing. She observes that he seems to be very lean and weak, maybe hasn't had food for many days, and is clothed in tattered rags. He obviously has some problems navigating, and is swaying wildly from side to side. Unable to stand steadily on his own feet, he is constantly groping for some support.

But finally, managing to push her far into the room, he steadies himself against the couch and stands holding his knife to her throat. He points at the scant ornaments that line her neck and her wrists. She silently removes her thin gold necklace and her gold bangles from each hand and holds them up to him. He points towards a napkin lying on the couch. She understands and silently moves towards the napkin, all the time throwing scared glances around, looking for an escape route. She places the ornaments in the centre of the napkin. The man laughs a silent laugh and points to her earrings. She takes those off and places them onto the napkin. The man indicates her to tie the knot and just as he does so, loses his balance and stumbles down. She grabs this opportunity, quickly leaps towards the table and grabs the vegetable knife from there. She turns around to find that the man is still struggling to get on his feet.

She walks up silently to the man holding the knife in front of her. The man, still sitting on the floor, absentmindedly puts up one hand, in the hope that she might help him get up. But on looking up, he realizes that the situation has taken a turn against him and manages to get up on his own. He looks at the knife in her hand then at his own and back at her’s. The fact that her knife is way larger than his, seems to hit him now. Both just stand rooted in place, at a clear loss of what is to be done next. She too is looking down at her knife, as if unable to believe the kind of situation that she is finding herself in. She takes a shaky step towards him. He staggers one step backwards. She takes one more step forward and he moves another step back, obviously feeling threatened by her. She makes a sudden rapid rush at him and stops the knife just a few inches short of his chest. He hurriedly scampers off, stumbling and falling all his way and rushes out the door. She runs after him and slams the door shut the moment he is out and bolts it from inside. She walks back to the couch, drops the knife on the seat and collapses besides it. She holds her head in her hands and seems to shake. She’s sobbing silently. She continues to sob for a while before she calms down and wipes away her tears.

The silence in the house is shattered by the ringing of the door bell. She jumps up with fear and backs off against the wall which is farther away from the door. The bell rings again. She walks slowly back to the couch and picks up the knife. Her hand is shaking badly as she approaches the door. Just then, the clock strikes 8, making a loud sound. The knife drops from her hand onto the floor with a resounding clang, only making her further aware of the fact that she is all alone in the house. She is now shaking from head to toe. Her face is mortified with fear. She bends down and picks up the knife again. The knife is unsteady in her hand. But she holds on to it as if it were a lifeline. The doorbell sounds once again, longer and it seems to her, louder. She moves to the door and cautiously opens the door. Once again, the man at the door is not the one whom she thought it is. He is dressed in a shirt and pants, complete with a necktie and an overcoat. He enters the house and gives her a light hug. He removes his coat, puts it up on the peg near the door and walks up to the couch and sits on it, leaving her standing right where she was. He loosens his necktie and stretches his feet in front of him, saying casually, “Hi darling! I’m very sorry to be late. I know I promised to be home early today but I got held up in the traffic. So, what have you been up to? Anything exciting happened today?”

The curtains fall.