Microsmos

Memories.  Yes, memories. Stored in a dimension unbeknownst to man - yet, wrecking havoc and joy in an otherwise colourless world. Like where are these memories even arising from? Is there a genie inside each of our brains, that gets released when the slightest sensation of a place or smell rubs some Aladdin lamp off? Is there really a Cartesian theatre in our deep abyss of mind that puts up a Broadway show every now and then to garner claps or stones, smiles or tears, depending on the script? And then, it dawned on me. How strikingly similar they were to leeches.  No, I’m not kidding. The very same - black, kind of slimy, totally ugly, but the kinda sorta useful helminth. Consciously recalled memories are like consciously placed leeches on our body. The very same ‘medical procedure’ that costs a buttload to put some worms on our skins to suck out the bad blood. Well, Taylor Swift will be interested. Anyway, these type of memories help open the curtains to let t...

A prototypical young couple. Married, not for more than a year, by the looks of it. The guy, immersed in his tablet playing Candy Crush. Opposite of him, sits his wife, legs crossed, enjoying the gentle breeze by the window – stealing glances at her husband, with annoyance or love, one would never know. Could always bet on annoyance, I guess. A prototypical, unbelievably loud and large family. Two small children, heads covered ear to ear with mufflers to escape the scathing Bengaluru’s cold. Aged around five, the age when one starts the never-ending hatred of the world around, crying and sobbing to be allowed to play. Their parents, pushing two big-ass smartphones inside their tiny naïve hands, putting dexterity to use and curiosity to lose. Two burly men, with strong muscular arms, remnants of a country upbringing – the children’s uncles – having an animated conversation over a hearty dinner. The conversation, so thick and hoarse with accent, one could easily mistake it for an ...

“Homo sapiens has no natural rights, just as spiders, hyenas and chimpanzees have no natural rights. But don’t tell that to our servants, lest they murder us at night.” These are lines from the bestseller ‘Sapiens’ by the famed historian and author, Yuval Noah Harari. But this article is not a review. I’ll pen down my thoughts and leave the rest in your hands – well, minds. What is ‘bad’? What is ‘wrong’? So, I’m not asking for examples of bad or wrong events but to pause and think of what these two words mean. And, I think, most of you as well as some dictionaries would be of the opinion that these words essentially centre around the same meaning, to use another synonym – ‘incorrect’. But, of late, I’m beginning to realise that there is a wide chasm of difference between these words. Let me explain. What is bad? It is more of a qualitative parameter to an event or a person. ‘Bad’ represents a subjective opinion than an objective one. (But then is there anything that is ...

Pre-Script: Anyone without a good sense of humour for satire – please don’t proceed. It was the year 3018. There is nothing significant about the year, except that it is a perfect thousand years from now, and it kind of takes a lot more time to type, ‘it is one thousand two hundred and thirty five years ago’ every time. I’ve got to work on my report, you see. Right, so its 3018. Huge skyscrapers lining the skyline. Small private jets zooming around like our cars of today. We could add some robots taking out dogs for an evening walk. A hologram theatre with new shows of ‘Spiderman – A kid like Aunt May’ and ‘X-Men: The Lastest Stand’ running. The latest texting app to hit the stands – one that could translate the thoughts of the sender via his brain waves. “No more thumbs needed. Just think to send!” – if you’d like to go the ‘Black Mirror’ way. The bottom line is, conjure a future in which the humans are still idiots. Trust me, given the huge line up of dystopian novels, it...