Come Let us Go

9 09 2008

From the legendary Punjabi Muslim poet of the 18th century Bulleh Shah.

Chal Bulleh chal outhay chaliyay jithay howan sarai annai
Na koi sadi zaat pehchani, na koi saanu man’nai

Translation:

Come Bulleh, let go where everyone is blind
So that no one recognonizes our caste and no one recognizes us (as pious)





The Many Worlds Interpretation: Super Mario

20 02 2008

manyworldsmario.jpg

Some people have a hard time getting their heads around the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics which basically states that at every moment our universe is split into many universes. Thus if at any moment we are confronted with many choices we actually do make all of these choices but in different universes. If it is still confusing then have no fear there is no Super Mario who can help you understand what is going on. Appearently someone superimposed many runs of a hacked version of Mario. Here is the link via BoingBoing. The name for this and related series of videos in Japanese is 自作の改造マリオ(スーパーマリオワールド)を友人にプレイさせる is “Making my friend play through my own Mario(Super Mario World) hack.”

So may be there are  many universes out there, in one of them Suroor is Her Royal Highness the Queen of Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland and Northern Brittany.





Ten Thousand Miles (Part IV)

18 02 2008

“Even a ten thousand mile journey starts with a single step.”

– Lao Tzu





The Epiphany of Jahandost

17 02 2008

Perhaps it is not the case that the meaning of life is to be derived by reconciling all the ideas in one’s head but rather the meaning of life is to be derived from constant struggle with oneself. These are two visions of life, neither of these is ‘correct’ and neither of these is ‘wrong.’ Different people are meant to follow different paths. I have tried reconciliation for the longest time until I realized that is not meant to be. Some things and some people are not meant to be at rest. With these words, Jahandost will end his self-imposed exile.





A Forger in Cairo

13 02 2008

rob_fisk.jpg

Just imagine the following, you are a British writer with international fame and you hear from a friend that your book has been selling well in Cairo. This sounds innocent enough right? There is only one problem with this story – you actually did not write the book! This is exactly what happened to Robert Fisk. To get to the heart of the problem, Robert Fisk himself went to Cairo hoping to find out who the forger was. What followed was a wild goose chase from point A to point B to point C and so on and do forth. Robert Fisk’s recounting of the events is funny in its own strange ways. Here is an excerpt:

There was a slim, cigarette-smoking Egyptian in a yellow smoking jacket with black velvet lapels blocking the doorway. “I want to buy a book,” I said softly, the winning smile – I’m afraid – of an undercover policeman suffusing my face. There were two tough, beefy men inside, shop assistants as you’ve never seen them before. I asked for a well-known volume on the life of Saddam Hussein.

“By Robert Fisk?” I was asked.

“Why yes, the very one!”

I followed one of the beefy men upstairs to the “Saddam Hussein biography” section. At which point, he darted back downstairs and retrieved the book from a secret pile behind the counter. “Thirty Egyptian pounds,” he said. I paid. Yes, I paid the equivalent of £2.86 for a book with my name on it which I never wrote.





Ten Thousand Miles (Part III)

10 02 2008

Count: Its cold here.
Esther: The firewood is out.
Count: I presume we will have to wait till morning to fix this problem.
Esther:Perhaps but what about the electric heater in the basement.
Count: I am feeling lazy right now. Perhaps you should get it.
Esther:You know, you do not have monopoly on laziness.
Count: Yes. (smiles)
Esther:Why? Out of all the places, why did you decide to come here. In the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere, in a small hut? You could have been a big shot. People were also getting to know you also.
Count: I don’t know. I do not know how to explain this. I was just looking for a small corner to call my own. I felt ill at ease with all these people.
Esther:So you left? So you left all of them?
Count: Not all of them. Just some of them … Migrating from one place to another. Each time leaving someone behind until I came here.
Esther:Did you ever regret leaving someone behind?
Count: There was one. I still have occasional contact with them but haven’t told the person where I am.
Esther:Why not?
Count: I don’t know. Perhaps I want them to ask the perennial question or perhaps I just want to be left alone.
Relish in misery?
Count: Well. No. This place is peaceful.
Esther:It is.
Count: One could stay here for some time.
Esther:Away from everyone else?
Count: Yes, away from everyone else.
Esther:This is not what you want, is it? And yet you force yourself.
Count: I don’t know. I do not know anymore.





The Muse’s Art

26 12 2007

Jahandost is back after a long and hectic semester. I have been meaning to write this for some time now but did not get a chance. Some of the old blog friends from back in the days will pick up the symbolism and hopefully some things will make more sense now. The story is inspired from Jorge Luis Borges. And so my story starts.

————————————————————————————-
The Muse’s Art
by Jahandost

The moment I found out the truth I was puzzled, how could it be. My life was indeed stranger than fiction. I exited my apartment, took a cab to downtown, wasted no time after exiting the cab and ran towards the building where he worked. I took the elevator to the seventh floor where he worked. As I approached the door and reached for the lock, the door opened by itself and man sitting on the desk spoke softy, “What took you so long Elaine? Must have been traffic right? Of course I could have fixed that but that would not have been that fun, would it?” He chuckled.
“Who are you and how do you know my name?” I replied in a rather bewildered tone.
“Now, now, now. You do know who I am. Don’t you?” He replied.
“So I am not real. ”
“You are as real as you want yourself to be.”
“Or is it that I am as real as you want me to be.”
“Well that’s another way to put it.”
“Why did you create me?”
“Don’t be blasphemous Elaine. I did not create you. It is only God who creates. We are mere imitators.”
“Why am I even arguing with you. Are you also putting words in my mouth?”
“Well, its slightly more complicated than that. Elaine, have a seat.”
“You are kind of freaking me out.”
“I do have that effect on people. Would you like to drink anything? Piña Colada, I know that’s your favorite. After all isn’t that your favorite.” And out appeared a glass of Piña Colada from nowhere.
“Let me guess. Here you can do anything.”
“That’s a slight exaggeration.” As said these words he waived his hands and the next thing I know we were sitting in a cafe on the top of Eiffel Tower. Our attire, his and mine, had changed completely.
“Does this cafe even exist in the real world?”
“Does it even matter? Who cares? Anyway is there anything that you would like to know?”
“So who am I supposed to be modeled after? Your sister? Your mother? Your aunt? Your girlfriend? Your friend?”
“None of the above and yet there is some element of truth in all of these statements.”
“So I am the woman you never knew?”
That made him fall silent and the next moment we were no longer in Paris but in the middle of desert.
“But why?”
“To be taken seriously.”
“To be taken seriously?”
“Do you honestly think that people will take me seriously if I said the things that you say.”
“Perhaps not but am I not a lie?”
“Yes, perhaps, may be, no. I do not know. I can live with that Elaine.”
“Right.” For the first time I truly felt some sympathy towards the man who was responsible for my literary creation.
“But since you are such a likable character, I feel ambivalent and perhaps somewhat guilty when people try to relate to you on a personal level given that you are not real.”
“But you just said that I am as real as you want.”
“Yes I did. Its not as much fun as it looks, I mean being able to control or do almost everything even if it is in a fictional world.”
“So it is ok to deceive people as long as it is not on a personal level.”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“What happens now?”
“I donno. Perhaps I should ask someone.”
“Perhaps.”
“The good thing is that you won’t remember a word of this discussion Elaine.”