Snakes on a ship: looks like someone's been reading my blog

There's this gentleman in Europe who decided to transport said reptiles/mammals strapped to his body on a cruise ship.
Avid reader(s) of this blog might recall a post that I had made long ago regarding snakes, airplanes and how to ship one onto the other. Looks like this gentleman did something similar. Would have been able get through security to fly with those things taped on to him? We wonder...

Terror on Valentine's Day

In a world with a collapsing financial system; with arbitrary military ventures shamelessly killing hundreds of thousands (in lieu of the deaths of a handful); with wildfires burning down nations; with temperatures going up on every molecule of the planet (despite the main perpetrators being in staunch denial of the fact), it is bizarre to see that profound jackass, Pramod Muthalik protest "love".

In a nation so dreadfully poor that 4 out of a 1000 women are forced to peddle their flesh for a handful of rupees; in a nation where 15% lives in the abject misery of slums; in a nation where people are discriminated on based on who they are born to (rather than how good they are), it is bizarre to see the aforementioned Muthalik resort to terror to protect what he perceives as a transgression of culture. His energies would be much better used in rehabilitating the 2 million prostitutes in India with compassion (for instance) - or just minding his own bloody business.

Just like all conservatives on the planet (Rush Limbaugh in the US comes to mind, as do the Bin-Ladens and that idiotic Dutch parliamentarian whose name has slipped my mind), I find it hard to agree with a single word he says.

Don't get me wrong here. It is not that I think Valentine's day is any less stupid - but it is just that I think Muthalik is more incredibly stupid (perhaps by a few orders of magnitude). This Valentine's day is an occasion manufactured by the card making companies to make a quick buck. It is not a religious tradition in any nation. It is a contrived, modern, materialistic occasion. Nothing wrong with it, of course, if you ask me. It's just stupid.

In a nation with such a shameful women's rights record like India, any discretion given to women should be lauded as a good thing. That Indian society is evolving to allow women (at least the economically well-to-do top 5%) a voice in whom they want to marry is a good thing. Not a bad thing. That unmarried women and men are testing the waters before they take the maritial plunge is a wonderful thing from a progressive perspective.

What aspects of Indian culture does it go against, Mr. Muthalik? Where in the great Indian manuscripts does it say that women must not be given roses to by men? Was Lord Krishna (eminent hindu diety credited with authoring the holy Gita) violating "Indian culture" by being quite the womanizer? (having 8 + 16000 "wives").

I'll tell you why that Pramod Mutalik (and his band of goons) is hell bent on ruining Valentine's Day. It all goes back to 1960, when he was a 20 something, and in desparately love with a maiden.

The day was Feb 14th. And love was in the air. Well, not in the air, but just in the air surrounding little Pramod. None around the said fair maiden. Now, little Pramod wanted to reach out to lady love. He ran out to his garden and started searching for roses. Alas, no roses were to be found. His cow had eaten them a few minutes ago. He sat down, disappointed.

And then he spied, with his little eye, a patch of vegetables in his neighbour's yard. There were tomatoes. Okras. And cauliflowers. Without much further ado, he proceeded on to his neighbour's garden, burgling the same. (As you can see, he was always quite a goonda).

So, when the maiden recieved a little cauliflower from Pramod, she did not do what he wanted her to. He wanted her to go down to the kitchen and cook up a quick saute. Nope. She just thew the hideous thing back at his face. (She hated cauliflowers too). His heart was broken. And that day he took a vow to disrupt all romances in the world. Especially on Feb 14th.

And thus was born the Indian Taliban. All because a maiden in Mangalore did not like her cauliflower.

India Unveils 10,000 Rupee Bungalow

Press Mistrust of India
------------------------------------------------

The Indian Government announced that it was planning to announce the inauguration of the word's cheapest bungalow in Mumbai a week from now. Details are a little sketchy at this point, but we have learned that the bungalow shall have a small garage to park the world's cheapest car in and a table to charge the world's cheapest laptop on. It shall also have a keyhole to (presumably) facilitate the installation of the world's smallest air-conditioner.

Majority of Mumbai's 22 Million (62%, to be exact) live in unimaginable poverty - without a roof on thieir head - (and clearly no air conditioner). A similar (though less dramatic) ratio suffers in other urban centers in India. The government's press release indicates that it wants every "slum dweller" to enjoy every luxury of modern life. We quote from the press release:

After a tiring day of begging at roadside intersections, we expect that the average beggar is quite tired. What better way to rejuvinate than soak in a warm bubble bath in your own personal bathtub in your very own bathroom?

India's Ministry of human resources, headed by Arjun Singh, in partnership with the Civil Engineering Departments of the Indian Institutes of Technology at Chennai and Mumbai started work on the cheap bungalow project two years ago.

Though there is no official press release detailing the various construction methods and materials used in the bungalow, word has leaked that molasses, milk and twine were used liberally. Also used are polythene bags and methane gas (emitted by cows). Staircases are made of paper and walls are made of cinnamon.

Professor Ram Singh, the dean of IIT Madras proudly proclaimed "We would have finished this earlier had not our mess staff gone on strike because of missing supplies a year ago. We are proud of this significant achievement."

Even with this revolutionary building technique, it is anticipated that house construction rates shall not explode in Mumbai. Because building a house for Rs 10,000 is one thing - but purchasing land for Rs 2 crores is another. And that's why India is working on the Rs 50,000 spaceship to Mars, so that a lot of houses can be built on mars (as land is not expected to cost anything).

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Why am I writing this article?
The answer is in two parts.
Part 1 and Part 2
All I can say is w.t.f.

Shoes?

Why would anybody do this? Is there a rhyme or a reason to the way some people behave?

You take a leap of faith and send in your troops to liberate a country from a tyrant (even though the tyrant probably was not going to harm you or your people, making this deed all the more altruistic). You sacrifice 5000 of your troops in this noble endeavor.

You take a beating in the court of public opinion in your own country because you sacrificed 5000 precious lives to liberate a nation of 25 million from the throes of an evil, genocidal dictator.

Clearly, having been such a savior, you would expect a little gratitude. You would expect, perhaps humble words of thanks. Tears of affection, perhaps. But shoes? Would you expect shoes to be thrown at you when you were so instrumental to the state of freedom Iraq is in?

What was the attacker thinking? Every Iraqi is obviously happy now, that he has been liberated from the evil dictator. How can anyone bear animosity towards such a benevolent benefactor? Human beings are such ingrates. Dear reader, let this be a lesson to you: the next time you see a dictator, don't liberate his subjects. They will throw shoes at you later.

Or, you could refrain from killing 4% of the subjects while liberating them. That could help.

Adventures of Peer Review Man 1: The Beginning

In a world with information corrupted by vested interests, is there any way one can get pure fact untainted by opinion; truth without spin? It's not that easy.

In this milieu of mistrust and lies was born Peer Review Man - a crusader for truth; a crusader for intellectual honesty. A crusader for all that the world holds dear.

There are many stories as to how Peer Review Man acquired his super power. Some are downright improbable. For instance there's one about him watching television as an inspired teenager as Ramar Pillai (a Indian charlatan) concocted petrol out of nowhere - defying all laws of thermodynamics. The fable goes on to say that the subsequent disillusionment of finding out that Mr. Pillai was little more than a hoax led the teenager to take a solemn vow that he would verify all that sounded fishy with peer reviewed literature. And then he proceeeded to read scientific journals day in and day-out.

There's another equally fishy one - which says that Peer Review Man is not a human being at all - but a hyper-evolved highly intellegent artificial neural network which has a built in connection to the internet (and therefore wikipedia). All fishy claims are googled and wikipediaed (this is a new word which I am coining. Webster owes me royalties.). Links are followed until peer reviewed sources are found - and therefore the truth is finally isolated.

Of course, the above sketches are abundantly improbable. Here's how he really came about.

Nagappa was an infant back then in a rural hamlet in northern Andhra Pradesh. His family wasn't particularly well to do economically. But it was a well educated family - a family well versed in the natural sciences. The Dad was a Physics enthusiast - and had lots of papers and textbooks stowed away in cabinets. The Mum was a biologist of sorts - and had her books by Darwin, Maynard Smith and the like stowed in the same cabinet.

And now, let's talk about Muriel, the mouse. (why a mouse in the middle of Andhra Pradesh has an Anglican name is beyond me). The enthusiastic mouse was scavenging for some tasty little slice of cheese (presumably) in the cabinet. Muriel, of course, did not find it, so it started nibbling on pages of Newton's Principia mechanica. After chewing Newton, it made its way to copies of Einstien's 1905 papers on special relativity and bit off the corners. Portions of Hiesenberg's thesis, Mendelleev's periodic table and Sclichting's "Boundary Layer Theory" were consumed too. As were works by Darwin, Feynman, Keynes and Fiegenbaum.

Muriel had by then pretty much binged on a rather significant quantity of paper. Most veterinarians who specialize in mice (there are a couple of the planet, I suppose) will tell you that what Muriel did was not good for its weight and cholesterol. But Muriel was a rather intrepid little mouse. She then decided to kick it up a notch - and started sipping from a tumbler of country liquor that the dad had left on the shelf. Knowing Muriel, it shall come as no surprise to the reader that what was consumed was excessive.

Muriel started feeling queasy. Nauseous. Felt like vomiting all that she had eaten. She found a little bowl on a table somewhere and just let loose in the same.

The bowl was Nagappa's cerelac (that's what infants are fed in India - and I promise, it tastes yummy!) bowl. So, nagappa made a meal of the mouse's vomit which consisted of a rather potent cocktail of portions of copies of some of seminial scientific literature laced with ethanol (and some of Muriel's gastric juices).

And thus was created Peer Review Man. AKA (to friends and family only) as Nagappa.

CV9ap - X414a

The year is 2049. The day is September 1st. Labor day.

Incidentally, his wife went into labor today. Everything went well. They had a baby girl.

And they were faced with the unenviable task of picking a name for their daughter. After a lot of brainstorming, they settled on CV9ap-X414a, with a small 'a'.

They chose the name because it was a unique name. A name that meant business. How many people called CV9ap would you not take seriously? They know that she would thank them for the wonderful name that they had blessed her with.

There was a catergory 5 hurricane which was forecast to hit the city that day. He had caught the forecast early in the morning, so he was prepared. He took an umbrella out of his bag and shielded little CV9ap from the 300kmph wind gust. He was quite proud of his paternal instincts.

As the author of this improbable sketch, I can perceive a certain puzzlement; a certain confusion amongst my readers. If I continue on these lines, I run the risk of sounding like a raving lunatic. So perhaps I should clear the air and make the circumstances a little more comprehensible. Shed some light, if you get my drift.

The planet has heated up thanks to human emissions (and bovine flatulence). This increase in enthalpy of the planet has created all sorts of problems. It has created more intense summers. Warmer oceans. And warmer oceans imply more intense hurricanes. And more intense hurricanes mean more death and destruction.

The real problem was not created by the hurricanes. But it was created by America's hurricane warning center. In a land with a finite number of first (and last) names, giving hurricanes people's names (and then "retiring" the deadly ones) created a rather unique problem: a shortage of first names. If you had a baby in 2006, then you would call her anything but Kartina and Rita. 2009 depleted Gustav, Fay, Hanna and Ike from the name pool. By 2015, almost all western names were out. No more Jack. No more Rob. No more Dick. No more Andrew - or Dmitri.

And with more hurricanes, the number of ineligible names started to increase exponentially with time. By 2030, even Indian names such as Vikram and Ravi were taboo.

This crisis was not without resistance. The committee to rescue names (CRN) was formed - and attempted to stop hurricanes on their tracks by dropping nuclear bombs on their path. This turned out to be a particularly ill conceived idea - because these bombs heated up the water all the more, creating the world's first catergory six storm. Saffir and Simpson were really spinning in their graves.

Attempts were made by parents at using more exotic names - any word that sounded phonetically correct was used as a name. But this scheme failed too. Here's a scenario why:

Mother: Oh wow! I am so happy to see that we have had a son. Let's see what we should call him. Let me mix some random phonetic syllables in my mind. Ah. Let us call him "purugu".

Dad: Nice. Purugu sounds nice.

Telugu Guy (appears from nowhere): You might want to reconsider that. In my native tongue, "purugu" means insect. Nothing aganist those little critters - but do you really want to call your son that?

Dad: Aw. Let's try "Kamina" instead,

You get the drift. With the world becoming more of a melting pot, one just could not find any pronounceable word which did not imply something demeaning in some language or was not a killer Hurricane.

As you can see, the only way out was to use alpha numerics. And one fine day, CV9ap-X414a became the leader of the free world. She became the president of the planet. (By 2049, all countries coalesced into one large union).

Oh. And umbrellas are a lot stronger in 2049. They can withstand category sixes with ease. Though catergory 7s (created by CRN by using a hydrogen bomb on a hurricane) are a whole different ball game.

God and the Hurricane

Picture this.

There's this monster of a hurricane churning in the Gulf of Mexico. And no one knows where it will go. From Mexico to West Florida. It can go anywhere. A large section of the US bible belt coast-line is in the firing line, as is south Texas and northern Mexico. Everyone is worried.

Now, let's focus on a typical rural scenario. There's this small town-by-the-sea somewhere in Louisiana. There's a rather unusual absence of vehicles on the roads. The place bears a deserted look. Because all the cars that are not on the road are at Church. Because, they reckon, only god can save them from the hurricane. Having seen New Orleans after Katrina, their sentiment is understandable. So, they pray. They pray for the hurricane to go away. They pray for the path of the hurricane to spare their helpless little parish.

The aforementioned scenario is generic. Take that scenario and multiply it by the number of churches on the gulf coast (an octillion or so).

And that's how many prayers god received in his inbox one morning, much to his chagrin. All these requests to alter the path of the hurricane posed quite an ugly problem to him. Because, one man's request was another man's nightmare. By responding positively to a prayer from church A in Louisiana, he could in fact be going against a prayer from Church B in Texas - which would cause a mass-loss-of-faith in Texas - something undesirable to god. For religion is all about making people gain faith, not lose it.

God was faced with an extremely tough optimization problem. What course could he undertake to minimize the damage to his good name? He could choose to inflict the damage in the most sparsely populated area along the gulf coast;hHe could also choose to inflict the damage on the area with the least density of believers; on the area with the least number of churches or perhaps the area with the largest number of criminals. To god, the objective function of the optimization problem itself was quite nebulous.

Before we talk about god's decision, let us take a minor digression. Let us talk about a hypothetical little village in northern Mexico. Let's call it D. A wretched, poor little village. A village so poor that most people do not have access to news on TV. A village where most people did not know about the hurricane until the government asked them to evacuate. No time for prayers.

It was quite unfortunate for the residents of D that god decided to go by the "prayer density" objective function. He decided to direct the hurricane into the area from which he received the least number of prayers per hundred documented residents. Thousands perished. D was below sea level.

Moral of story:

Pray. Watch TV. Don't be poor.

Ethnic Cleasing in Mumbai? Give me a break.

Mumbai is a city of 21 million people; arguably one of the world's most diverse and cosmopolitan cities. It has among the highest population densities on the planet; it has the one of the world's largest slums; approximately 100,000 prostitutes; the world's most over-burdened sub-urban railway system and a film industry that makes more movies than Hollywood in a given year.

And if the developments in the last few days are considered, we realize that there's no shortage of imbeciles in Mumbai either. And I speak of none other than one "Raj Thakeray"; a political cipher trying to emulate his uncle's (Bal Thakeray's) openly racist and divisive politics (with only limited success). His passionate efforts to rid Mumbai of North Indian immigrants are so doomed from day one that it will be extremely enjoyable to see his entire movement implode.

Here's why. Let's consider some numbers now:

With 20% of the population of Mumbai being North Indians, Mr Thakeray has confronting him the unenviable task of deporting 4 million people, (which is half the popluation of Israel if anyone's keeping count). If he manages to do this without much bloodshed, then this would be a first in the history of humanity. And if he does manage to do this, I am sure some American politicians (and Lou Dobbs) would give an arm and a leg to learn how to repeat this feat with Mexican "illegal" immgirants (12 million of whom seem to have set permanent anchor in the US).

So, how would Mr. Thakeray go about this task?

Certainly, the most practical way out of Mumbai would be by train. Mr. Thakeray would have to give away each one of those 4 million people one-way tickets home. Some of those tickets will have to be air-conditioned. I know a few North Indians who would rather die than travel in three tier during the summer. And once the train reaches wherever it is supposed to, he must sabotage its engine such that it never comes back. (But this m.o. involves sacrificing a Marathi Saboteur - a suicide Saboteur, if you will - for an enraged North-Indian public will certainly lynch the gentleman in question.). This venture is unlikely to be financially lucrative either. Mr. Thakeray will have to spend an average of Rs. 500 per ticket - a grand total of 4million x 500 = Rs 2 billion. (The option of advertising on the train will be of little use too, since he does not expect those people to come back to Mumbai).

Clearly, this is not a tenable solution. Even if Mr. Thakeray were to procure the money by begging, borrowing or stealing, (the latter being the most probable) most North Indians would either

(a) Not go, sell the ticket to someone else (and ask them to change their name while traveling)
(b) Go, say Hi to Mum and come back

leaving his scheme doomed, like one of Stanley Featherstonehaugh Ukridge's bizarre capitalistic ventures.

Mr. Thakeray could consider going to each house and weeping in front of the principal bread-winners. He could sob (in Marathi) "You're taking opportunities away from my people. Please, starve your family for my people's sake. Please be humane.". Alas, this scheme would only give him a black eye on lucky days.

He could try putting an economic squeeze by holding businesses in ransom from doing business with North Indians. This again is unlikely to work, since a majority of the businesses are not run by Marathi. This, as a matter of fact is bound to back-fire.

And, finally, one hopes, it will dawn upon Mr. Thakeray that only a simultaneous repeal-ment of the entire Indian constitution and the second law of thermodynamics will allow his fantasy to come true. But given that politics is all about inciting emotions, Mr. Thakeray is doing the rational thing.

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The second law of thermodynamics talks about "spontaneity" - whenever there is a disparity, things tend to try to even out. (If they wouldn't try to even out, then there wouldn't have been a disparity in the first place.) That's why Mexicans come by the millions ("illegally") to the US; That's why Bangladeshis come by the millions to India - and people migrate by the millions to Urban Areas like Mumbai.

There is little one can do to stop free will, as Mr Thakeray will no doubt learn.

He wants to take care of us

There is someone up in the sky,
who wants to look after you and I.
He hates to let things go wrong;
He wants to keep us happy and strong.

He would like to give us shelter from the rain,
He craves to protect us from anguish and pain.
And He desires to protect the coast from the wave,
and from the mighty hurricane.

He wants no violence on his name,
Peace is his method, his aim!
He is the god that We beleive in;
Utter incompetence, his only sin.

The Exorcist 5: Hail Singh

Arjun Singh is India's Human resources minister, responsible for the 49.5% reservation disaster.

Arjun Singh woke up one day at 9:00 am and went to his bathroom. He took out his twig (he does not use a tooth brush) and started brushing his teeth. He then looked at the mirror and there was something on his lip. It was a moustache that covered (symmetrically) one third of his upper lip. He then opened his left palm, and saw blood marks shaped like a reverse Swastika on it.

He wanted to shout out in agony in Hindi. (Something like "Behe* ?hod"). But the terms "Das ist mir scheißegal." were inadvertently blurted out of his mouth. It was pretty weird; he had never spoken in German before. He had, actually, flunked geography in school and was under the impression that Germany was one of India's southern neighbours, along with Finland.

Singh, at first did not like his new moustache. He had seen a movie starring Charlie Chaplin long ago - but he had never caught the humour. The moustache made him look like that B-Grade comedian.

He tried getting rid of it (the moustache) using scissors, but the damn thing would not budge. He tried using a knife. The strands of hair did not break. He then realized that the only way get rid of it was to cut his neck. But he was not that insane ...... yet.

At 12:00pm, after a hefty lunch of Paneer Parathas (imported from the USA) and Chicken Tikka masala and prawn spiked with beef and pork, he went to his office. He was early: he would usually be in his office by 2pm. His secretary greeted him with a smile and said "Namaste Mantriji", the usual greeting. But a voice from inside told Singh to pause and correct her. He said "Namaste Mantriji not. Hail Singh with salute!".

Singh then started taking policy decisions. He scribbled "99.5% reservations" on his notepad .. and started doodling on the same. He drew a house, a cow (which looked like a sad dog) and a dog. While he was doodling so enthusiastically, his pencil inadvertently drew a vertical line tangetial to the first 9 in 99.5%, making it look like a badly written 4. He then told his secratary to get him some concentrated orange juice. The term "juice" almost sounded like "jews".

What has happened to the Arjun Singh that we all know and love? Why is he possessed by this monster? What has the ghost of Adolf Hitler done to him? Is there any hope for the country, which has been placed under such a racist and bigoted order? Will we ever know?

Adolf Hitler had done his homework well. After Eva Brown shot him during one of their fights, Hitler decided that he was going to teach humanity a lesson. Humanity was in profusion in both India and China. He saw that the Communist government in China was teaching its people a lesson on a daily basis, and did not need any external help. India, on the other hand, was threatening to become a world power, a power with immense talent and a high morale. A power with brains, that might one day steer the world away from global warming. What better way to stifle this emerging power than remove whatever meritocracy there remained? All he had to do was complete what the ghost of General Dyer (another misanthrope, who had lost his soul when he committed the Jallianwalla Bagh Massacre) had done through the Mandal commission.

But Arjun Singh's inadvertent doodles had reduced it to 49.5%, necessitating the emergence of Idi Amin's ghost in the near future. But that is beyond the scope of this analysis.

After almost killing any justice in Mother India by passing the 49.5% reservation, Arjun Singh took a hacksaw and cut his neck (to get rid of that irritating moustache). The law had inspired him to cut his neck to solve the problem of his disgraceful moustache. His last words were, you guessed it, "Das ist mir scheißegal"!

P.S This post could have been called "The Exorcism of Arjun Singh", but the movie was so bad.

Feynman is a Hoax

A Tribute to Conspiracy Theories and the Idiots who spread them

Just like Einstein, Newton and Shakespeare before him and Stephen Hawking after him, Richard Feynman is nothing but a lowly hoax.

Feynman painted many naked women, wrote a lot of books, flirted around with everyone, grew Einstein-like hair, gave T.V interviews, traveled all around the world, got his car stuck in a snowstorm, moved to Caltech and basked in the salubrious Californian weather and gave some stilted lectures (which, strangely, have become quite popular among the students of today). If he did all this in his life, then, pray tell me, how on earth would he have found the time to do any credible research? Feynman unscrupulously reproduced the work of another scientist, an unfortunate individual whose name shall remain unknown for all eternity. I mean, why on earth would a theoretical Physicist work on wobbling plates?

It is my personal conviction that he copied the research from another scientist ( the real genius), killed the guy and shoved his body into a landfill, just like Einstein, who plagiarized David Hilbert's (Hilbert: a man with a lot of problems, 23 to be exact) equations of General Relativity, Lorentz's equations of special relativity and someone or the other's explanation of the photo-electric effect. I am sure that the Einstein summation convention was also created by someone else: probably an ancient Indian philosopher called Bhatti or something.

There is a popular anecdote about Newton: he constructed a cat flap (an opening in the door to allow the cat to go through) for his cat. And his cat got laid and had kittens. And he made another cat flap: for the kittens. Now, tell me, how could someone, so obviously deficient in the cerebrum, be capable of making significant contributions to mechanics, astronomy, calculus, fluid mechanics, heat transfer, optics - and everything else? It is my conviction that all Newton did was invent a system of plagiarism using which he could take credit for any work done in that field. I am sure he invented one such system for each field that he plagiarized.

This article is original and not plagiarized. If you need to kill someone for spreading this trashy libel, it is me. Feel free to be as abusive as possible in the comments sections of this post.

2040: An Introduction

Bansi Lal lived in Mumbai, India's largest metropolis. An urban agglomeration with 60 million people, the area housed more people than an average-size country. Only Tokyo, New York and Beijing had more people. And Mumbai was growing the fastest of them all, being the most tropical of the lot.

Bansi Lal worked as a news presenter: holographic images of him were beamed into the living rooms of several Indians while they had their breakfast. He spoke in a mix of English, Hindi and Tamil - a mix quite common in India at this point of time. He would present the news with confidence and passion. Looking at him, you would understand why he was India's highest paid anchor.

He had gained popularity in the Sri Lankan war, braving the supersonic bullets to get his spectators the story. It is said that many a maiden's heart was beating faster when he was doing this bit of field reporting. He had won India's heart thus. And the network gave him prime time breakfast news.

Today was a quite a good day, as far as mishaps were concerned. A hover-car had collided with a train, killing three - and that was about it. Bansi sailed through the story with aplomb. His was a cheerful heart today: only three accidental deaths in a city of 60 million per day was something everyone could live with.

Mumbai now was a town of hope. A town of development. A town of tomorrow. A town with a greater future than the rest of the world. It had more sunlight than the great cities of the United States, Europe, China and Japan. It had more skilled manpower than the sunny desert cities of the middle east and the vast expanses down under. Its main rivals were other Indian towns (especially Chennai and Hyderabad), Mediterranean towns of Madrid and Los Angeles. Mumbai had expanded by 2040 to cover what was once the metropolis of Pune, the town of Aurangabad - and as far north as Daman.

Something remarkable had occurred over time. Something that changed the face of the planet in the preceding 30 years. Something that helped the planet avert the energy crisis and tide through global warming. Solar energy.

perseverant research had been happening at the academic level - throughout the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st century. The best brains in the world were working on solar cells; on harnessing solar energy for the future. Photovoltaics were always a "promising" technology. They were never economical.

Never economical, until that fateful day that fuel prices hit $140 a barrel (2005 dollars). Gradually solar photovoltaic cells started disappearing from store racks. More started being manufactured. Advertisements were being played on local and national television. India started becoming a "solar" country. The grid would supply power only at night or on rainy days using coal power.

It was ironically that disease that had blighted humanity since times immemorial - religion - that had brought forth the current prosperity. Hatred between two prominent religions in the world resulted in an oil crisis. This also resulted in a hectic funding of scientific research in solar energy. Indian universities focused on an innocuous sounding plant called "Jathropha" which was instrumental in the production of bio-diesel.

Jathropha was taken to en-masse by the farmers. This had a multi-pronged effect. Since the average farmer started to earn more, only a few farmers were left who were willing to grow food crops. This resulted in the use of more efficient farming methods. Yields in India started being comparable to the rest of the developed world. And the other farmers formed a vital link in the supply chain of India's new fuel: solar bio diesel.

And almost overnight, India was transformed from a fledgling, energy hungry third world country to a sophisticated self-sufficient democracy. Development started occurring at a scorching pace.

But this is not the story of Mumbai. Or India. It is the story of Bansi Lal. And it is as much a story of romance as it is a story of hope. A hope for a better future.

The day that 30 met 328

When finally, 328 from 243 was free;
328 thought it would just walk into prosperity.

But the ride was tough, the road was bumpy;
Most from 328 were still of 243 wary.
So, 28 adopted a "social democracy";
- and was plagued by rampant beauraucracy.

Forty five years later, an economist,
328 from the shackles set free.
328 started to grow enormously -
Enough to catch the attention of 30.

328 opened up, started to drink oil,
Started to make cars and drugs on its own soil.
And one fine day in a desert,
328 created a fungus.

30 started to spit venom;
Started to treat 328 like scum.
But 328 had problems of it own,
186 and 136, to mention some.

Though 328 dreams to be a 30,
Most of 328 is lost in poverty.
Although, lots of 328 diffuses to 30;
density gradient, you see.

328 does a lot of work that is dirty
For the rich - especially 30.
But 30 still shunned 328,
For creating the fungi.

30 and 328 seem to be in love again-
Peace brokered by "mutual economic gain".
Harness the fungi for peace, they did say;
When 30 came to 328 today.


[ You might need some help decrypting this.]

How the second law has been violated

All my life, I've been trying to come up with instances that "defy" the statistical reality that is the second law of Thermodynamics. I believe that my search has finally come to an end.

Most people would probably have heard of the Maxwell Daemon - the "door" that allows only the "faster" (and therefore hotter) molecules from a cold area to a hot area, and "slower" molecules from a hot area to a cold area, therefore, creating a machine that defies the second law. People have puzzled over this for a very long time - and some conclude that it is impossible to construct such a daemon. Its existence, like that of the Lochness Monster, Yeti and Bigfoot is suspect.

But America has a Maxwell Daemon of its own. The INS. America is a rich land: lots of water, food and beer for all; lots of cows and pigs to kill and eat; lots of cars to drive; lots of petroleum (oil) to burn. Countries like India, on the other hand, are not so lucky - lots of people starve to death, lots of people cannot have a full meal, lots of people live in utter poverty in slums.

But India does have lots of good brains. Lots of IIT and IIM graduates. Lots of equally skilled people from other colleges - right from Bihar to Kerala. And these guys, inevitably, after gaining some education of sorts, start dreaming the American dream. The INS allows them through willingly ("America should not lose its competitive edge"), but does not allow the beggar and the "unskilled" worker. And the denouement is the following: the Per Capita Income of Indian Americans is 1.5 times the American average - the people from one of the poorest countries in the world are the richest ethnic group in America.

There's lots of Indians in the Silicon Valley. Almost all universities in the USA (even MIT, Stanford, Princeton and the like) have a sizable proportion of Indian professors and students. Often the biggest Academic names are Indians. Lots of big companies have Indians on their payrolls. Hardly what you would expect from one of the poorest nations in the world.

But Zurek (2003) would say "Hey, the INS is doing some sort of work, right? So it isn't really a violation". But I would rationalize by saying that human beings aren't molecules. Especially me. I'm fat.

REFERENCES

W. Zurek, Maxwell'’s demon, Szilard'’s engine and quantum measurements, arXiv:quant-ph/0301076 (2003)

Ethical way to eat meat

I am a vegetarian primarily because I don't want to hurt the animal which is dying. Being a vegetarian has been an ethical choice - a humane choice. I do not want to be cruel to the animal by creating pain for it.

I suppose there are a lot of people in the world like me. People like us, of course, cannot help but feel their mouths water when they see ads for steaks and the like advertised on TV. And guess what, there IS a hope for us! This 'hope' can be summarized in a four letter word: CIPA. Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhydrosis.

It is a rare genertic disorder in Human beings which shuns pain. Children with CIPA are known to bang their heads against walls - and essentially be extremely careless. That what you would expect when Nature's feedback system is overriden. Apparently, only 17 people in the United States have CIPA.

So, essentially, the crux of what I am saying is, do research. Develop a CIPA injection .... can be injected into cows, chickens, turkeys, hens, donkeys, horses and other animals ... and then the guillotine treatment. The animals won't feel a thing ... and Presto! You got humane meat.

We can extend this to include Euthanasia. An extremely sick person can be given this CIPA injection and then be, say, electrocuted, for all practical purposes. I, however, do not recommend the CIPA injection be administered to a criminal before executing him, for the lure of a painless death may encourage suicidal maniacs to go on a killing spree, something that everyone would like to avoid.

Living with a tough name

Pronouncing my name is not a treat - even for a masochist. If you're not from Andhra Pradesh, pronouncing my name will take a lot of perseverence. And I am not that important to be persevered about.

Back in India, I never really lived in Andhra for more than a couple of years. I had more friends who were not from andhra. So, when I inflicted them with "*@#!*(" they felt deceived. Some took the easy way out, calling me "Rap". Actually, all did, except some professors.

The problem with such a difficult last name of course was that I was treated like something of an outcast in class. Almost everyone else's name would be pronounced right: and an embarassing mistake would be committed ("*?") when it was my name that was to be spoken out loud. I was a lone outsider for most of the time in India. The Deepak Yadhavs, the Sunil Kumars and the Murali Krishnas were the "in crowd". And I would be down in a corner, alone.

Bank clerks would have a tough time trying to get my name right. So would Railway reservation clerks, Airline tickets agents, passport office clerks, post office people...... Some would listen to my name in disbelief and give the impression that they did not approve of the Andhra system of nomenclature. You would think my name was a curse in their native language. Does "Rallabandi" mean SOB in Marathi or Tamil?

Ironically, coming to America has changed all that. To the average American, "Deepak" is as tough as "Rallabandi". Since they can't ostracize the entire South Asian community here (who'll run the Silicon Valley then?), they have no option but to concede. Thus, I automatically gain acceptance. I can live with respect again. Possibly the only place outside Andhra that I can live with respect in. Come to think of it, Rallabandi means "stone-carriage" in Telugu. How much "respect" is that going to earn me in Andhra?

Of Ideas, Humans and Bathtubs

I remember reading in a recent issue of Time or Scientific American (I forget which), that ideas come to people when they’re either in the bathtub or in the gym. I could not help but agree with this; Archimedes came to mind, exclaiming “Eureka!” on the streets in a state of embarrassing undress having discovered his principle while indulging in a bath. Umpteen other examples can be cited of people hitting upon a sudden stroke of genius either while bathing or while in the gym. As a matter of fact, I got the idea for this post while bathing!

I believe that this tendency of humans to think while in their baths shall be the solution to all of the third world’s problems. A country like India, stuck in a stagnant rut of corruption and poverty requires creative solutions to its day to day problems. Creative methods to make money. Creative policies.

So, the panacea to this problem would lie in building more bathtubs. It is my strong belief that funds that would otherwise be used to educate the illiterate by building schools be used to build public bath tubs. And public gyms. People on utilizing the same, shall, no doubt, be struck by at least one stroke of genius per head per day, thus alleviating the whole country from the aforementioned poverty.

Perhaps a considerable amount of the defense budget could be spent on building bathtubs for leaders so that they can come up with creative solutions for the Kashmir issue. And the music directors of these Hindi Movies sure need all the bathtubs that they can get.

On a different plane altogether, I believe this tendency of “good” ideas to materialize during a bath (or a workout) is merely a manifestation of Murphy’s law. What worse time to get an idea than when making a note of the same is next to impossible!

Hail Murphy.

Of Mosquitoes And Nations

His Omnipotency found the planet Earth drifting out of control, and decided to decide what to do about it. He recruited a troupe of mosquitoes and sent some to every nation he thought was of concequence to "test the waters". This is the story of those awful winged critters and how governments reacted to them.

China:

The mosquitoes had a tough time flying over the great wall of China, but they never forgot that they were God's critters. They, after a lot of toil, made it to the other side. The females started stinging people as they went around. This did not go unnoticed. A few government officials were monitoring the mosquitoes, and they made their reports to the overlords at Bejing. A few journalists also saw the mosquitoes and were about to report the same in the next morning's news papers.

Of course, the government killed all the journalists and never ever admitted that there was anything wrong with the Nation at all. Anyone who missed the journos was told that they died of mosquito bite. The head of the state hailed the Mosquitoes (only privately, though) as a gift from God to reduce the population. Since these mosquitoes were not capable of killing anyone, the only way the population was in control was by the state when it killed the "enlightened" journalists.

U.S.A

The invasion of the mosquitoes was shown on all Channels on TV, right from MTV to C-Span. Bill O'rielly expressed outrage at this, and Stephen Colbert said that bears were worse. The army was rushed in, tanks were fired, a nuclear bomb was dropped on each of the mosqutoes obliterating the same (while they were still on international waters, exposing Cuba to deadly radiation) except for a few which were retained for research on stem cells.

Iran

U.S reckoned that Iran was harboring the mosqutos and decided to attack them. Ahmednijad, of course, denied that mosqitoes could ever cause malaria (stating that all the malaria cases in the world were a myth). To prove this, he slept in a room with only mosqitoes in it. He died of dengue fever the next day. The US attacked Iran the next day, trying to find the mosquitoes. But since a bomb had been dropped on Ahmednijad's mosquito filled room obliterating his deceased body and all the mosquitoes, they could not find the same. Of course, a debate ensued in America regarding bad intellegence.

India

Some mosquitoes went to the southern Metropolis of Chennai and were immediately killed by the high temperatures and Humidity. Some went to Delhi, where enthusiastic journalists conducted sting operations of them, adding some irony. The mosquitoes were then broadcast on National TV. They were remanded in judicial custody, and their trial date was set 50 years later. Some mosquitoes went to Bihar and bit two people, one lower caste and another upper caste. Of course, a civil war erupted between the Ranvir Sena and the Maoists. God was pleased with the mosquitoes for this. He had been trying to get rid of these organizations for a very long time.

N. Korea

A massive famine was averted in North Korea. This was hailed as a blessing from God. Mosquito fries became very popular. Since cooking killed pathogens, if any, the only worry that Kim-Jong-Il had now was corpulence, and of course, the US nuking him for "breeding agents of bio-terror".


Africa

The mosquitoes added to the already prevalent malaria pandemic in Africa and killed the entire aids ravaged continent.

God was so upset with this that he took a Gun and shot himself. He then went to hell, wrecking the entire balance between good and bad.

God's Gift to Humanity

2005, like every other year before it was perfectly foul. Mother nature was just being a bitch throughout. Right from the Tsunami (okay, that was last year. But that does not change her being a bitch) to that tremblor that flattened Kashmir. Not to mention the complete innundation of Mumbai, the obliteration of New Orleans.

It looked like she was going to be a bitch forever. But thankfully, people had faith. God, then responsed to the prayers of billions - Muslims, Hindus, Christians and even Scientologists. The Great Green Arckleseizure and the Flying Sphaghetti Monster also relented. God had reached a decision. A decision that was so subtle; that in its subtleness lay its profoundity. A decision that would touch more lives than anyone could ever imagine. Yet simple and beautiful.

For God announced one happy morning "I hereby abolish the non-linear terms on the left hand side of the Navier-Stokes Equation". The reason that He gave (by email to this author) " I tried to see if I could stop the flooding, the rain, the cyclones (also known as hurricanes and typhoons) and the tornadoes by trying to predict where and when they would occur. But I just wasn't able to solve the god-damn governing equations. I would always make a small mistake in the boundary conditions; I would forget a butterfly or something here or there - and every time, the result would look totally different. So I was left with no option but to abolish the Non Linear term. Now I will have to watch an implementation of Conway's game of life for kicks. Woe is me."

Not that this move did not have its opponents. Metereologists went on strike. But since the weather became so predictable that an infant with a slide rule could forecast what would happen centuries later exactly, those jobs were immediately taken up by infants with slide rules. The metereologists died grisly deaths. Chaos theorists went on a strike too: they died. No one cared enough to replace them.

Life in the linear era wasn't without its shortcomings though. Utlility prices started going up first: they needed longer heat exchangers since turbulence was abolished by an act of God. People who wanted to drink coffee and tea had to wait hours for their coffee and tea to mix; it was after all, up to the forces of diffusivity alone to mix them with absolutely no help from the fluid motion. And it would get cold by then. People did not like cold coffee.

God had unwittingly put the whole world to sleep by abolishing the Non - Linearity in the Navier-Stokes. He did not see this coming. Needless to say everyone died: vultures feasted on asleep people in certain areas: trains rammed into cars; pets bit their asleep owners and gave them rabies. Planes ran on auto pilot till the fuel ran out ...

Humanity was done in by unpredictability yet again.

Moral of story: Don't wish for anything when you pray. It just might come true.

American Blues: A little white box

Ernie

Ernie was a robber in New York. I say was, because he is a robber no more. And it isn't a sudden dose of religion that got him straight. Neither is it a sudden moral awakening. It is just that his line of work ceased to be profitable anymore.

For but yesterday, Ernie used to prowl the steets seeking unsuspecting victims armed with his trusty fingers and a twig. He would trail unsuspecting affluent men and women in abandoned alleys. (Why they would be in such alleys is beyond the scope of this article). He would then use the cliche "Stick 'em up!" thrusting the twig in the small of the back of the victim, making it feel a little like a gun. He would then request in the politest terms possible a rather strong percentage of the cash that the victim had on him or her. Usually to the tune of a few tens of dollars.

But recently business started drying up. And Ernie can blame Steve Jobs for this. Ernie would trail the unsuspecting victim, he would shout "Stick 'em up". If that did not work, then he would resort to the equally effective "Your money or your life!", thrusting the same twig. But all he would get from the prospective robbee, would be a shrug very similar to the shrug that people use to get rid of a fly on the back.

For almost overnight, Steve Jobs put IPods in the hands of almost everyone in America, rendering them utterly useless to Ernie as potential donors. Ernie would put his heart and soul and toil in this expedition. But what would he get in return? Not even minimum wage. Just plain ignorance from ipod listeners who would be listening to their Missy or Tchaikovsky instead.

These big corporations are ruining livelihoods of hard(ly?)-working Americans like Ernie. Mr Jobs, aren't you ashamed of yourself?

Me

Having procured a Chinese imitation of Mr. Jobs' little crime stopper in response to a few 'crime alert' e-mails sent by the University police department, I decided to use the little box of wonders in the Gym. The motivation behind the gym expedition has been mentioned in a previous blog and shall not be explored in detail here. Suffice it to say that some felt that there were two of me.

But that is not germane to the issue. What is germane to the issue is that addicted to the music, self usually cycles back from the recreation center in a state of daze, with either Robert Plant going " .... to be a rock and not to roll" or Bruce Dickinson exclaiming "666". With such noise, who has time to hear any trucks honking away to glory?

It is not entirely imperceptible that my life be cut short by one of these vehicles. My perishing is Mr Jobs' fault again. Mr. Jobs can't get anything right, can he?

This gets us to the poll section.

How will I die?

• Get Trampled by a truck while coming back from rec-center
  
• Get Hit by a car while returning from rec-center
  
• Starvation
• Old age

No multiple answers, please. One is not a masochist. And remember, I will give you an all expenses paid trip to Siberia if you are right.

You are disqualified if you

1. Starve me
2. Drive a truck/car over me
3. Don't kill me [because you would intentionally be letting old age attack me then].