The power of words : The Hamilton Rap

Speaking as someone struggling in the deep dark dunes of Dissertation District (sorry but couldn't help the alliteration - been starved for some creative release since thesis writing is anything but) , I have been newly reminded of the power of words. This has been in the back of my mind for this entire DAY (in caps to indicate that I have lost all sense of time ...Dissertation District is dispairing oblivious to the diurnal doings of our precious planet - no apologies this time: you seem to know what you have gotten yourself into - but the past "earth month" has shrunk into the "Dissertation Day "). Now see, thesis writing would be so much more fun, if I can entertain random distractions in thought like in a blog (wanna go ride bikes? Gah, don't listen to me - I am all jacked up on mountain dew [ref: Talledega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Journal: Hollywood, Year: 2006]. Woo Hoo.

Back to what I was actually blogging about - the power of words. A picture's worth thousand words, I am told. Being the 21st century (hopefully it still is or Dessertation Day has been temporally dilating faster than my simulations) lets up the game and post a video on the amazing power of words. Check it. Be Blown Away.



ps: Thanks to Guy Tal for passing this along !
pps: You know you are truly out of touch with your life when you take a minute to remember your own (blog) pen name. Ouch. Can't wait to get back to reality.

On glory that’s past and the danger that’s now....and on movies

Warning: This post ended up longer than intended. But if you stick with it till the end there are two poems – one’s a Hindi/ Urdu classic and the other’s a never-before published original by yours truly.

I am not really a movie buff. Never been. Too impatient for the 3-hr Bollywood kind (forwarding through songs, fights, comedy and romance doesn’t help because there is little left) and too psychic for Hollywood (Kevin Spacey is the killer, Darth Vader is Luke’s dad, Bruce Willis is the ghost) – thanks to Bollywood for the foresight. I do have some favorites (thanks to Quentin Tarantino), but for the most part movies for me are an ordeal.

So the other day, as I lay sulking in my usual physics-grad-studentish misery looking everywhere and anywhere for a pick-me-upper, I chanced upon Rang De Basanti to watch during my ritual morning cardio. I had seen this movie before, at the theater even (a rare treat in midwestern Champaign) and I knew I liked it. But my pensive mood revealed layers and brought forth a powerful reaction that I had somehow previously missed. Let me explain. No spoilers here, so no worries.

Rang de basanti, for the uninitiated, is a Bollywood blockbuster unlike any other. Lets start with the title - the literal title translation is “Color it Saffron” – saffron (basanti) is a deep orange color and is of profound significance in India. It’s a holy color for one and also symbolizes blood. In fact, it’s even featured in the Indian flag – as the first of the three stripes, saffron symbolizes the sacrifice (bloodshed) needed for India to win its independence. There is a less well-known meaning as well, Rang De Basanti was a popular anti-British cry during India’s struggle to break free from the British (damn the British – their accents, their tea, their language and all!). The slogan has its roots in a patriotic song written by Bhagat Singh, a heroic revolutionary freedom fighter. Bhagat Singh in his poem mera rang de basanti chola called for people to dye their robes the color of Spring (spring, the season that symbolizes change is “Basant” in hindi), for times are about to change – the time has come to sacrifice lives if that’s what it takes to get freedom. Thus, Rang de basanti is actually a powerful call to change the status quo. (Obama would have loved it, he needs some Bollywood researches on his campaign)

Just from the depth of the title you are probably beginning to see why this might be a good movie. But the homage to Bhagat Singh (and other Indian revolutionaries) doesn’t end there. The movie is set in contemporary India and draws parallels between revolutionaries of Bhagat Singh's era and modern Indian youth. It’s an ingenious commentary on what it cost our ancestors to fight for our freedom, what we have done with it and how nonchalantly we treat it today. A bloody freedom struggle (from less than 80 years ago) is juxtaposed against our (or more generally the Indian youth’s) irresponsibility to the corrupt Indian political system that is typically cooly attributed to “we-are-like-this-only”. Then it calls for action. To Do something. Anything.

It’s a brilliant movie. Very inspiring. Even the sound track uses patriotic lyrics set to modern tunes. Specifically, they featured one particular old revolutionary poem popularized during the freedom struggle that really made clear the glory of a lost era. To see why, here’s my favorite part (I’ve translated it here –the verse is much more beautiful in Hindi / Urdu and the video is below):

Title: Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna: The desire to sacrifice

There sits the enemy, armed and ready to fire
Ready too are we - to thrust our hearts out to them
With blood we shall play Holi, for our home and country is in trouble -
the desire to sacrifice is now etched within our hearts.

No sword can sever hands that carry the throes of passion,
Heads that have risen won't easily bow when challenged.
It'll flare up even more, the flame struck within our hearts
- the desire to sacrifice is now etched within our hearts.

You can really get a sense for the movie from the this clip featuring the poem:



The first thing that struck me was – no one talks like that anymore. About anything. The words, the values, the passion simply doesn’t exist in contemporary lexicon. Even if they do, they sure as hell don’t carry the same meaning. Don’t we stand for anything anymore? Don't we as a nation, a generation have any cause? Maybe we do. But I was in a coffee shop on campus as I was pondering the movie later in the day and the difference was stark. No, it's not just a cultural thing - and its not specific to India. America has a similar rich history. Our current values or lack-there-of is reflected in everything we do- contemporary art is a joke, a la mode literature is unreadable or depressing at best, and philosophy is out of style. With nothing left to do, I took out my disappointment on pop-culture in an outdated form of expression - verse. Here goes:

Pop goes the Culture

A lost voice a lost cause
Here we rock on without a pause
What we move to- undefined
Synched to the values of our times.

Of our roots, few remain
Best forgotten, coz of the pain?
For it’s a sanguine history that we share
Of freedom-fighters and folk who dared
To stand up for what they breathed-
liberty, justice and to be left in peace.
To arms they took or were beat to death
For the hopes and dreams in unison shared
Of a free world where people walked
Without any fear to mock or talk.

Well, here we are, few suns bygone,
Sheep we are, with no sense of wrong.
Moving to the tunes of time,
Orchestrated by the media chime.

Now we know not what we want,
A pandemonium in faculty, we flaunt.
Like the name, pop it’ll go -
A culture fashioned with mindless woes.

- Rug

Now for the happy ending - The movie did strike a chord. The entire nation rose to salute it. Blogs crept up everywhere urging for action. It was discussed in cafés, shopping malls and classrooms. I’m not sure if anything concrete came out of it. But it sent a message to a whole nation. And I now have a contemporary Bollywood movie I highly recommend. After all, it inspired me to write my second poem. Simply put, this movie is so good that had this been a Hollywood movie, George Clooney would have been proud.

The Buisiness of Marriage 2 - The Plot Thickens

Posted as a comment on The Business of Marriage

On the surface, it might appear as though the State's authority to approve a marriage is required because of its needed involvement when things go south in a bad marriage. Legal separation, custody battles, the traditionally-required alimony become the State's problem when two not-so-happy-ever-after-the-wedding parties decide to break up a marriage. So we can try to conclude right here that a State needs to authorize a union just so it can "fairly" unauthorize it.

"But aha", cry Apos and Trisco (they both actually and separately did, when I presented this argument to them), "why can't marriage then be just like another business contract? A contract that can be drawn up between two separate parties, albeit with a notary present, and doesn't require a license , State's approval, definitely no tax breaks and can still be a legal basis for fairness when the parties break the contract!"

That's a great point. So why can't a marriage just be a business contract? Lets dig deeper.

A marriage is a legal union of two individuals. The State has to be in the dirty business of this union because it has put itself in the dirty business of approving of who is legally an individual! The State is in one's life to begin with (that's right ...at the moment when you were born and had no idea of what's right and what's wrong - in the hospital...right after you blink your pretty little eyes at your loving mom). Must to Realism's outrage and Nihilism's delight, you don't really exist as an individual until the State grants you an existence license in the form of a birth certificate. And in fact, it's even consistent in handing out a nice tax break, albeit to your parents, for your recent appearance in this world. The State is there to begin with - without this birth certificate, you cannot get a drivers license, a passport or hell, even a marriage license. Since we all have implicitly accepted this power of the State to authorize the existence of an individual, by extension we have to accept (damn, logically, for rationality's sake, we have to demand !) the State's power to grant the union of two individuals as a single entity (and again by extension, demand a tax break for the same).

You cannot drink, travel, drive, earn, move, own, marry, and technically exist, without the State's consent.

Realism squirms and Nihilism shrugs as we walk away with our driver's license secure in our pockets.

ps: As a side note, it is very interesting how the tax breaks encourage the traditional role of a female as a home-keeper. The tax breaks, when filing as a couple, help only those whose incomes are very lopsided (maximized when only one person earns). In fact, if you have a spouse who makes the same amount (albeit extremely low), you are better off filing separately. Being single, why do I know this? Coz,I am suspicious of Govts. trying to nudge the masses. With nudge comes power (and we all know with great power comes current squared times resistance :P). And marriage is a classic instance of this.

The Business Of Getting Married

First of all let me say that I am a romantic at heart and the idea of a forever after with your true love sounds wonderful, and I might even go "awwww". But then reality dawns on me of the dirty business of getting married. I say "dirty" because of the involvement of the state in terms of issuing marriage licenses. Um, can I ask WHY in the world is this the business of the state?? It seems ridiculous to me that the government has monopolized this industry of marriages. Not to mention their tax breaks and other benefits of marriage, which certainty create incentives for us to get married. And why exactly should I pay less in taxes if I am married? Or more in taxes if I am not married? I also say "dirty" because I ask myself "what is the point of marriage?" and it is nothing but setting a contract with another person that you will be there for them in x, y and z situations, and establishing a power-of-attorney-type-exchange. In which case, WHY WHY WHY is this something that the state needs to be involved in?

Perhaps at one time in the distant past, people believed that marriages, in this type of contract form, would ensure that they creates a stable family.. but really does this even exist anymore? With the insanely high divorce rates and prenuptial agreements to get ready for divorce before getting married.. it is difficult to argue that marriages create a stable family.

Please enlighten me with your positive views towards marriage so that I can be less cynical about it. :)

Thoughts on Grad School

This is too good (true) to be missed: http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2009/02/03/dont-try-to-dodge-the-recession-with-grad-school/#more-2071.

Part 2: http://philip.greenspun.com/careers/women-in-science

Adventures in Photon Land or Massive Communication Gap

Ok it’s time for a light-hearted anecdote (but it is still faithful to VERITAS).

My lab notebook is filled with sighs (“Oh God, why me ??”), curses (*$%& you too, detector! [sorry mom, but trust me it’s appropriate !] ) and monologues to my future self (“Get out here while you are still sane”). Of course there is the requisite amount of bad data, empty pages, and specifications of equipment that never meet specs, but these are for another post. Let’s go back now to that part about me-talking-to-my-future self. The most recent of these conversations started about two years ago. My past self had written down very clearly “Dearest Radzie, please don’t ever touch the allignment laser – it’s a bitch. She will not bother you, if you don’t bother her”. For those of you who don’t know about my experiment (which is everyone but me), the alignment laser is a bright red laser used to correctly position the million optics (lenses, prisms and such) in my experiment, because I can’t see the actual photons that traverse these dangerous terrain. Simply put, I use the alignment laser to visualize my photons’ adventures. Remember that this note was about two years ago. Of course 3 months after I had written that, I promptly removed(!!) the alignment laser (I hope my advisor is not reading this blog – he’d know what an idiot I am and that I write to myself, which somehow seems worse than talking to yourself even though it is just another form of communication – hmmm. Note to future self: think about why this is so). Why did I remove the alignment laser? Because it was in my way- duh! So first instance of future self not listening to past self (bad bad future-self). Let’s start keeping scores: Future Self = -1. Past Self = +1. Yes, I penalize people for not listening to me and reward those who do. Roughly a day after I removed the laser, my then-future-self but now-past-self wrote another note “ Yeah gurl, remember that note about the alignment laser – yeah very very true. Don’t ever touch that again. TRUST ME - Its really a bitch!”. Now this time, my past-self did one step better – she tried to etch into my memory the pain involved in realigning the alignment laser. She didn’t do a very good job. I promptly took it down three months later and had to tearfully realign it two weeks after that. Score: Future Self =-2. Past Self = +2. This kept happening. Fast forward to now: you’ll know what transpired in between from the latest scores - Future Self =-5 and Past Self = +5. Notes to future self are now covered in curse words, some in ALL-CAPS and some were just empty pages (an example of my past-self trying the silent treatment on the future-self – “I don’t even wanna talk to you anymore”). The last of these misadventures happened yesterday. As I was wondering how I could improve communications between these different time zones, I finally figured out why we (i.e., my past self and my future self) have such a massive communication gap. No - its not really a memory thing – I always remember the warnings and have slight forebodings of the pain involved. It is not a language problem either - I have known and will know the meaning of “DON’T”. The vile vicious virulent villain is the middle man – the present self! AKA: yours truly, ME (oh man, it sucks to be the bad guy)! The minute the thought to move the alignment laser enters my head, I start playing with the laser’s knobs (physicists like to touch knobs – to see how sensitive they are [that’s what she said!]). Of course, when things are aligned and you are turning knobs just a wee-bit, everything seems under control. The middle (wo)man gets confident. I start thinking, “oh my past self aligned optics like a little girl (the expressions somehow seems less punchy than throwing-like-a-girl, or hitting-like-a-girl. Nevertheless, it is meant to communicate the same sort of disdain). This must have looked hard to her. Haha! Look at me now – I am the queen of optics…and this is my humble subject. My wish is its command”. Then of course in my vain red-queenly manner I proceed to “chop off the optic’s head” and almost immediately conjure to disappear from the scene leaving nothing behind but a I-told-you-so past self and a very disappointed what-have-I-done future self. The problem is ME. Or YOU - if the me we are talking about is you.

We’ll turn to the moral of the story (the Duchess would have wanted this anyways) to explain the last line: turns out neuropsychology says that this miscommunication is a well known phenomenon. We all work very hard, sacrifice our youth building something that we think we would value when we turn older. Be it pulling all-nighters in college, becoming stressed-out lawyers and consultants or renouncing the castle to elope with a knight (OMG, that is so 2008!) When you get there – you aren’t any happier! Why? Because the future self isn’t really your past self. You have changed. Turns out the best way to judge whether you will be happy in a particular career, lifestyle, country is to poll multiple people doing what you want to do in the future. The chances are you will side with the majority when you get there. Only now – you can save yourself from the pain involved in getting there - if it turns out that there is not the never-never-land you were hoping for! The key is not to ask questions like “oh, are you happy you did this?”, because most people cannot be objective about their life-changing decisions, but questions about their day-to-day life and then trying to picture yourself in their shoes. I know what you are thinking “but I am not them. I am different. Smarter, perhaps prettier, but definitely better”. That’s also a known phenomenon. It’s called the middle man - you or, in-my-case, me!

Ps: Now you probably realize why I am taking so long to do my PhD. Not only do I keep doing the same things over and over again (“hey, that’s how you become an expert !”), but there are voices in my head – all competing for attention and shown in different colors. That or I have severe ADD. I don’t know – lets go ride bikes.

PPs: This post is dedicated to Alice (the one in wonderland) and Lewis Carroll. I just finished rereading it. Note to future self (both mine and yours): “It’s brilliant . Reread it in about 5 years!” :).

My Hero: The Virtuous Smuggler!

Rug’s inspiring Ode to Francisco got me thinking about who my hero’s are. All my heroes have a few things in common. They are loners. They think for themselves always, to a degree that often causes them to come off gruff. They don’t get along with most people, but have intense love and loyalty to those whom they resonate with. The time that they don’t spend trying to be left in peace, they spend being implacable in the face of a seemingly invincible foe in the name of what’s right.

I couldn’t help but notice that many of my heroes fell into one conspicuous occupation: The Smuggler. So I’d like to pay tribute to the Han Solo’s, Malcolm Reynolds, and Augustus Skelly’s of the world.

They crave freedom enough to give up a comfortable existence workin for the man, for a life of danger on the far outskirts of society. They are the unsung heroes of property rights. At risk of their lives they connect willing buyers with willing sellers, deftly evading the mooching middle man who would horn in on the action. They take a special joy in helping those people because they get to flout the very same nosy nelly, by the book bureaucrats that drove them to that career in the first place. And it’s a good life. Your home is your ship. You spend most of your time in isolated gorgeous views of the open sky or ocean with plenty of time to read and think between short exciting bouts of “work”. It might be the most glamorous of unglamorous lives.

In the past, smugglers have enjoyed a much deserved romantic mystique. Throughout much of history they have transported plain old needed goods like wool, precious metals, spices, and spirits. From the 16^th century wool smugglers of England to the 20^th century moonshine runners of backwoods America, they just try to get the goods from the little folk who produce them to the little folk who consume them without outside interference.

In the last 50-100 years smugglers have been a victim of freedoms success. The advance of free trade has put a lot of hard working smugglers out of business. With no artificial need created by some greedy government there’s no market for the service. Mostly what remains is what are commonly referred to as traffickers, most of whom I would guess are not virtuous. They deal in goods that are illegal, as opposed to highly taxed. These include drug runners, gun runners, and slave traders (yes, amazingly they still exist mostly trading in women and children). These last villains especially harm the smuggler name. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that all three of the fictional heroes above found time to kick the ass of a slave trader. Han freed Chewie, Mal picked the pocket of a slave trader to start a raucous bar fight. And Augustus Skelly… ok it’s been too long since I read Sparrowhawk, but I’m sure there’s something in there.

Its not all bad news for the prospective smugglers now in days. There’s good news on the horizon for those who are warming to the trade. First, there are some old standbys still available, Cuban cigars into the US for example. (If they can make it here in a bathtub, think what you can do in a decent boat! Plus you’re based in Miami!) Now the first rule of smuggling is never travel with the holds empty, so be sure to bring some hot items into Cuba. I suggest very old car parts, very new electronics, or copies of Atlas Shrugged. Also, there is a serious dearth of decent spirits in the world’s largest democracy, India. May I suggest Sandalwood for the return trip? Lucky for you you won't have competition from the dreaded Sandalwood Smuggler Veerappan anymore! Also Protectionism is on the rise. Thanks to the corn lobby, one could do well transporting CocaCola with real sugar to connesuirs in the USofA. Also in his last-day-in-office anti-French tantrum President Bush put a 300% duty on Roquefort cheese and upped the tariffs on French truffles, Irish oatmeal, Italian sparkling water and foie gras, so the cross Atlantic trade might be opening up again!

So let us raise a glass, or a plate, or pipe of something elicit to the Virtuous Smuggler, hero of property rights.

Francisco Domingo Carlos Andreas Sebastian D'anconia is my HERO

Francisco D'anconia - Copper magnate. Self-made tycoon. Playboy. Destroyer of his own massive empire ! Heroes exist plenty in the fiction aisle (in the ones worth reading anyways), especially in Rand's books - but D'anconia's the only one who stands true and strides a Titan's swagger. Its easy to be a inspiring protagonist -start deep down at the grueling bottom dressed only in rags, accessorize only with spirit and honor and inch your way to the very top. When you get there, redefine perfection. But once you are at the peak, what does it take to slowly reverse the ride if every core of your being demands you to do so? to excruciatingly grind every speck of achievement into oblivion? It takes a true Hero !
Our world needs one today - in fact, we could use a couple. We have seen the Vanderbilts, the Rockefellers, the Ambanis and Buffetts. Every one knows what it takes to become rich and maybe if I had kept up with pop culture, I'd know that going from rags to riches is cliche. Regardless, what is popular are opinions like " surely now that 'we' have created these giants, we can simply take a small small bite from their plates?", "after all, aren't we evolved / human enough to know better than survival of the fittest" and "they needed me to get there anyways". These real-world giants, at least the noblest among them, would be the Taggarts of Atlas Shrugged. They keep fighting a losing battle. We might never really know the Galts even though they exist- sorry, thats just part of the character - the men of steel will, strong muscle and razor-sharp minds, who go on and build their own Utopias. But where are the D'anconias? History has never truly had a D'anconia and its high time for Francisco to make his entry . Just to show us courage, morality, grit and to remind us of what truly makes us human. So, while I tip my hat to Dagny and wink my big brown eyes at Galt - it's Frisco who is my true hero.
He should be yours too। After all, he is the one who tells Atlas to shrug.