Noisy and sleepy

This is something that I have been thinking about for the last few months. Intrigued by the hum like sounds, of the noisy air conditioners, even fans at times. I have revolved and thought a bit around them. physicist and spectrum engineers call them noise or specifically white noise, though we are not going into the mathematics or even an introductory analysis of the sinusoids (why so rarely cosinusoid?) of the random signals uncannily surrounding us and troubling the so assiduous communication engineer yet there remains so much to share.

The idea that multiple frequency components, infinite here, that many philosophically talk of effecting life and energy flow cohere together to make those mathematical prodigies so much more comprehensible, is attractive and thoroughly lovable to any one who enjoys the game of generation through mathematics.The complete unification, the unmistakable utopia it is.Imagine the shouts of the rag-picker, the beating of the washerwoman's club on the cloth, the grand BMW rolling over, the radiating supercomputers all coming together to form one of the most talked about phenomenon in the science domain.

As I continue reading about the captivating hum, I am told it helps you sleep, it helps meditate, and it relieves stress, it helps reduce the uncomfortable din around you, and it can even insulate you from the constant bickering of your neighbor. Strange that its called noise, but than it is exactly so, a sum total of all imaginable disturbances, of all the competing sounds. Seems like the sounds that otherwise compete here come together in mutual understanding and see a face change, or whatever, but Amazon.com is selling the white noise for 3.99$.     

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“Today happens to be a beautiful day”

"Today Happens to be a beautiful day" from the T-shirt of an unsuspecting young girl still in higher school; via the blog of one of her friends to me; this phrase has already made a few ponder and contemplate.

A nice day it is when the sun is bright, the sky royal and blue, when the green trees on the adjoining hill sparkle and when the dots of glorious, expensive white clouds decorate the scenery. What than is a day when the clouds dark as they are, rush in from the south west, to bring the resurrecting drops as desired as the elixir? who undermines the beauty of the morning fog or the glare of the cold rime over the shivering grass?and, the sun shining over the rime destroying, purging it is equally fascinating.

The sun is grand in the morning, red, orange and yellow it travels through the day ripening the wheat and barley turning the green to gold it sets down glowing red, not furious but exuberant and promising. The dark clouds on the other day make the green darker; the pines and deodar are quick to change shades as the drops defy gravity on the sharp needle point

Beauty probably is always this way, you keep overlooking its exquisite nature for long, the incessant beauty obviously can not cause flashes and is often corner shouldered. Every day that reaches me, brings the sun, moon, rain and snow. Every day nature whispers to me in the undertones, so delicately it adorns me with those commandments.

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Wandering thoughts

A miillion little things transpire around me, just as an innocuous microscopic green fly decides to relax, a spider prepares for an atrocious assault, the wall lizard savors the thought of an appetizing meal. And by now I had an illusion “so much work, so much attention”. It’s easy life, comfortable survival.

The single most important achievement of man is his ability to stand for what he has earned.

She is already into her twenties, a year older to me. I saw her playing with the pen knife, opening it and closing it. I didn’t stop her, nor did I draw anybody’s attention. Somehow the careless, unthought-of involuntary motion convinced me it was harmless. She left the toy placed it aside and I could see her hands repeating that motion over and again for the next few minutes.

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Where do we point? Why miss the point?

The Newspaper somewhat disquiets at occasions, I went through a project on one of the terminus of the New Delhi airport, a huge structure one of the most distinguished in the world, will be a symbol of modern India in the coming days and no more will we listen to jarring painful jokes about the capital’s International airport. The growth figures for the last quarter were released yesterday and they were startling and good, the nation seems to be developing and developing real well.

Yet I sat down this time to argue and question the country’s projection. The urban middle class is buoyed by the gush in prosperity and the media inspired by the glistening malls that surround there offices in some metropolis. The young educated youth sees opportunities and money floating around him. The nation senses optimism, a country that not so long back was sullen and cash ridden, where babudome dictated who could by a car is unhindered, and is relishing the new found profligacy. Listen to those voices acknowledging this turn around in unison.

The days of our soviet infatuation, when socialist dreams took eerie directions are safely distant. The irony is that not many seem to be ready to leave them behind. Unless we do so the prognosis is gloomy, with our inkling to take cues from pre 1990’s India we have rushed into consumerism and open markets, we are blinding our way from being a predominantly restricted economy to what may be a far too liberated market for a principally poor nation. The ghosts of the soviet ally India though a fleshless, impotent visage is forcing a brakeless drive towards unrestricted capitalism.

The nation has seen tremendous progress since the Manmohan dream budget, but what must not be lost sight of is the fact that this country is a welfare state in which many still vie for some fundamental services. The government as it has to cater to the people and go back to them every term end has kept a strict eye upon this aspect or at least it has pretended to do so. But the so active, the so noisy and often unrelenting watchdogs that work ceaselessly and unrestricted in the minutest scandal in metros are nowhere to monitor these efforts even within 100 miles from the capital. It was left for a Rahul Gandhi to bring the plight of Bundelkhand to the national media.The entire focus of our newspapers, of those thinking beings in the newspapers and the television media is restricted to number juggling, the national development in the psyche of many has been reduced to development around a few centers. The IPL is a measure of our progress for some, for some it’s the cold Mittal, some dare step down to mention airport terminals and others sporadically speak of the metro train. Talking of things below these strata is already out of fashion.

Our concept of economic development for the going decade remained anomalous.

Now that may sound a lot like the leftist craving on capitalism and inequity, it may seem like the articulation of all that’s not good in a world dominated by the United States. But then contemplating, reading, weighing and justifying over and again, I am here venting all that ire upon the blog. If it jingles like music for the likes of Karats and Yechuries, its unintended and no praises desired from that band either. More on that…

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