A part of it.

Me: Ideally I would be happy if I can fall in love and have every relationship last exactly three months.
     
       But it doesn't happen that way.

Friend: Why not?

Me: Because I don't think there are enough people for me to meet and fall in love.


       And it's hard work


       And tiring


       And I have shit to do.


Friend: *Smiles*

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a dangerous thing. It almost always never makes you feel good. It also gives a slightly rosier tint to the past, the past which hurt you like pins and needles or the Spanish Inquisition or ... okay, I am assuming you have gotten the point by now.

Almost seven years ago I decided that I was going to love and marry a particular person. Nothing much came of it. Almost an year after that we decided that to be together was not the thing. At least he did. Now, he has gotten married, to another person. Life has come a full circle. It does not matter that even after breaking up we were still talking. About two years ago I decided that being friends with him was affecting me and him in different ways. He became more demanding of me, and I more supplicant. Then I told him to move on. Every time I mentioned this to him, his immediate questions would be "Do you like someone else? Are you not happy being friends with me? Do you want to get married? Have your parents found someone for you?". These questions would shut me up. Then he would be more demanding of my time, where it got to the point where I could not have a normal social life outside of waiting for him on Gmail Chat. Last year I decided enough was enough. I told him I have changed in ways that I could not communicate to him. My outlook on the institution of marriage had changed during my years of physical solitude, my attitude towards romantic relationships had taken a beating and I was generally very cynical about anyone who insisted that one human-being needed another. Again, his obvious question would be "Are you in a physical relationship with anyone?"

Now he is married. He is happily married and regularly sends me updates about his family life. He is in love with his wife and she with him. I had egged him on to make a move and get married. I agree I was being selfish. I wanted to get rid of his constant nagging of me for making small talk. When ever he felt lonely he would send a mail, or would call without even giving a thought to the impact it would have on me. And yet now, seven months hence, he is happily married.

Not for a moment do I begrudge his happiness. He deserves it. He is a nice guy. We just could not make it work. He was young, and so was I. Yet, I cannot help looking back whenever I get a mail. I don't yearn for him. But I do yearn for the time I was full of optimism and hope; for the time when I thought romantic love was all fulfilling and all enduring. I yearn to be foolish again; to be less pragmatic, to be less skeptical and be more indulgent of everyone else in the rosy glow of new love. Like I mentioned before, nostalgia is a very bad thing. It makes you sigh and wish for things which your rational brain knows is or was never good for you.

Yet, I am human, too.

Fleeting ecstasy

The wait is excruciating. The eyes are strained, boring into the camera. The breath is held in anticipation and anguish. The heartbeat does not slow down, rather one can hear one’s own heart running a mile and minute. The knees slightly bent and arms held aloft, the supple wrists are held in an awkward position; almost as if they are deformed. The eyes contract. Your hearts tells you to skip a beat. That’s right, your brain wishes you to stop breathing. You take a sharp breath in. You can see a red object aimed at ‘your’ centre of gravity. The form moves, the legs shuffle a very small shuffle, almost imperceptibly; blink and you will miss it. By now your pulse slows down. The cherry has almost reached the body; you take in another short quick breath fearing that you may faint. Then you start thinking that the arms may come down too late because they are held so high. The ball is faster and zoning into the legs. This is it; it’s never going to come down on time. For a fleeting moment hope gives way to desperation. Then deliverance arrives. The rapier like slash and the bat comes down on time. You let your breath out. The suspense, the thrill and the fleeting ecstasy of watching Brian Lara bat. 

Idiots and idiosyncracies

English is a very idiosyncratic language; especially when idiots (self-proclaimed) like me use it. Here is an example;

Me: Time for spot of lunch

Thai friend: Spot of lunch... ?

Me: It's just a turn of phrase.

Thai friend: Turn of phrase... ?

Me: Never mind.

Thai friend: Never mind what?

Me: I am going to have lunch. Are you coming ?

Thai friend: Of course, I am very hungry..

Me: Facepalm.

The Book of Life

Do you know the feeling when you wake up on a Saturday morning and you don't have to read the book that you have been reading for the past month. No, you have never gone through that you say. Dear friends let me tell you from personal experience that it is one of the most awesome feelings ever. One fine Saturday morning I woke up and I did not have to read Les Miserables (by Victor Hugo). For those of you who wonder I am indeed talking about the unabridged version of the classic by Hugo, the e-book of which can be obtained here. This book, the main story of it at least, is 1202 pages long and by far the biggest book I have read to date (at least as far as I know the biggest book I have read thus far had been Rama Returned by Arthur C Clarke)

In 2010 I had read the other classic by Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-dame, which was long, but shorter compared to this.

Let me get the reason of reading this book out of the way in this post so that I may concentrate on actually what I want to say about the book and its characters. I found out that the movie version of the book is coming out sometime in November this year and consists of a stellar cast in the form of Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway and Helena Bonham-Carter. Here is the trailer. Also, this book is in my "Books to read before I die" list in my Goodreads library. For people who don't know what goodreads is, please check this out.

Now before I start writing about the book let me say that the rest of the post is for only those who at least know the story by either having read an abridged version, having watched previous versions of the movie, or having watched the musicals. If you have a dim recollection of the outline of the story and don't plan to read the unabridged version then go ahead and stay with me. If you want to actually read the the long form of the book then now is the time to quit this post.

Les Miserables is the time tested classic. The basic outlines of the story still stand relevant. Even the author mentions it. As long as there are children affected by poverty, women who take to prostitution because of poverty and men who take to crime because of poverty this book will make sense. The technology might have changed from that of 19th century France, a nation agitated and in the cusp of popular revolution, to that of today, a world described as being a global village (which is true, as cliched as it may sound). The hues of the characters might not be the same but stereotypes still exist. Hugo is a master of social and spiritual commentary. The book is dotted with Hugo's own bias about the society, about the undermining of the religious values which he felt needed to be upheld, his own partisan belief that revolution and agitation caused sadness and placed an unwarranted stranglehold on the already weakened pulses of the society. All this make this book more of a humanities book than a work of fiction.

The story can be stated in two lines. It is the story of a man persecuted justly or unjustly (depending on whichever side of the fence you sit on) who beats all odds to do good to the society by overcoming all demons present within and outside of him.

The story starts with a very good Bishop, who is so kind to the point of absurd naivete. But the Bishop chooses to be naive. Let me explain with an instance. Once the Bishop before he became the Bishop is said to have come across Napoleon Bonaparte and seeing the Bishop the Emperor asked him who he was. To this the Bishop says "Sire, you are looking at a good man and I at a great one". Now this kind of presence of mind requires intelligence. Yet, the Bishop continued to keep his parish door open at all times, citing that a place of worship should never be closed. In walks a paroled convict, who had been imprisoned for 19 years of his life, from the age of 19, for, get this, stealing a loaf bread (this by the way proves that the French and especially Parisians are a little iffy). So anyway he is reformed by the Bishop and his kindness and renews his faith in the Supreme Being and goes along. He goes to another part of France, sets up a glass and beads factory and becomes a model citizen. Now enters into this story a woman of no means, destitute and with a child whom she has handed over to a really dank family in a sublime fit of singular stupidity. Subsequently she succumbs to an uptight (oh my God, French and uptight, that must be a first) police Inspector's treatment of her. But before this she extracts a promise from the reformed convict that he will rescue and look after her daughter. In the mean time the malevolent police Inspector begins to suspect that the man the town looks up to (the reformed man is held as a Messiah of the region, having provided jobs to the people of the vicinity) is indeed the ex-convict who is said to have committed an additional crime. Now after the promise is given to the destitute woman the reformed man is arrested by the police inspector and this also leads me to observe that this is becoming an exceptionally long post.

So to cut a long story short, the reformed man, let's call him Jean Valjean, actually keeps his promise and takes care of the destitute woman's daughter (let's call the daughter Cosette) brings her up as his own kid, loves her to bits and when it comes to the clutch, sacrifices everything to unite her with the guy whom she loves and who loves her in return.

Th social commentary woven as the cross-strands in the story is that human depravity takes a myriad of forms, and fortitude opposite that depravity is provided with courage, goodwill and steely awareness. We are shown the good side of humanity by characters such as Gavroche, Enjloras and even Eponine. The bad side are portrayed by Mr and Mrs Thenardiers. The indifferent ones in the society are portrayed by Inspector Javert, who weighs every decision with his head and sees everything in black and white. Finally, when he does feel some stirrings in heart and lets Jean go, he is overcome by the conflict raging in his head that he takes his own life. Metaphorically, it is a testament to the fact that indifference to the issues deadens you. Feel passionately and one will find a reason to live.

In finality, all I would like to say is that, please read the book or at least watch the movie.

P.S: I am so sorry that the post is so long.

The Rise and Fall

Dear youngest Federers, by the time you are old enough to read this the whole world will make your father out to be egomaniacal no-gooder. Bear with them. Those who say that were the same ones who exalted your father to the status of the greatest tennis player ever.

Federer played tennis like the only way he knew to play, like ballet fused with opera. He was given to temper tantrums and then he realised that tennis meant far too much to him to throw away petulantly like he was doing during his outbursts.

Reams and reams of rows and columns were written of his competitive spirit, his graciousness in defeat, his attacking instincts, the way he graced the game. I really don't want to waste any more emotions on those same aspects. Everybody who knows who he is, knows him for who he has been. People have analysed his forehand, backhand and every other slight of hand, and I am no expert to contribute to any of that. 


For somebody who watched tennis without ever having played it I loved Federer for what he was to me. He meant someone that I could aspire to be. To be the best at what I could be. But all this sounds churlish. I am nothing like any of my idols. I have wished I was. 


Recently somebody remarked to me that Fed should leave whilst still at the top of his game. For me that is a very 'economic' way of looking at things. You know, comparative advantage and all. But there are two counter arguments to that. 


1. What people fail to realize is that people, out of all living beings, behave the least rationally. Otherwise how can you justify the sales of Macbook, iPod, iPad etc. ?


2. And, he is not playing to maximize his economic earnings, he is playing because that is what he likes to do. 


I am writing this after his loss in the Semifinals of Roland Garros and the loss in the Finals of Gerry Weber Open in Halle. I read all the experts saying that after Wimbledon and maybe Olympics he needs to re-evaluate his decision to keep on playing. Interesting that I should read this now when I am having doubts about my own capacity and academic prowess. Gone are the days when I used to remember trivia of all kinds and shapes. I can not only feel but I know for a fact that my memory is waning. My powers of concentration are going down. I can't buckle down and sit for a three hour sit-in exam. Cannot pull all-nighters like I used to. I remember studying non-stop for more than 14 hours straight before my Advanced Level Chemistry paper. Needless to say I aced it after cramming so much. But the most important thing was the high I felt after finishing the paper. I had unnecessarily assumed that I would be crashing and sleeping continuously but the feeling of ecstasy was so much I actually felt like I could go bungee jumping just about then. 


Nowadays I don't feel that. I feel my capacity to assimilate data dwindling. I cannot keep at a paper for more than an hour the most. Most of all what matters is my mental capacity is diminishing as well.


Once an astute tennis commentator remarked that the thing Fed would have to guard against is his mental stamina giving way in between a match. Fed has always been a 'walk-about' guy. 'Walk-about' is a mental stroll you take to some other place in a match, say, after you have won the first set. So if it is Fed, Fed has won the first set and he cannot mentally sustain the same intensity he has been displaying whilst winning the first set and so he goes for a 'walk-about'. It is strikingly present in Fed. Not so much in Nadal. (I haven't watched enough Djokovic matches to comment on him) He reduces the intensity level of his play and eases up on his opponent. The commentator remarked that as Fed ages it will be even more difficult for him to take the walk-about and then get back into the game. The three-game walk-about would sometimes even extend to the next set. He basically implies that there would be crests and deeper troughs in the level of play. This is very significant. This means that Fed won't be able to do this. Coming back into a match would become that much harder.


This is significant because I feel I kind of agree with that commentator's comments. Let me say at the onset I have always been moody and prone to mood swings. But, as I am progressing in age my mood swings are becoming more pronounced. I know this sounds a little hypochondriacal but if you have been paying as much attention to self as I have been this is huge. 


Ok, all I am saying is that aging is a natural process. How we choose to age, what we choose to do to defy aging and all other related matters should be strictly left to us. We, with stringent self analysis, are the best judges of what we are capable of. Life is anyway full of crests and troughs, a never ending sinusoidal curve. Our choice is to ride the crest and bear with the troughs.


Rant over.

Tips to identifying an 'academic ninja'

Do you know what I abhor the most? It's not being called black, brown or any other colour, it's not being labeled a Tamil nationalist, Tamil passivist or an anti-Tamil bootlicker, hell it's not even being derided as an 'hippopotamus playing badminton', but rather, it's being called a 'NERD'. Everyone thinks I am a nerd. Maybe I am, but it doesn't give anyone else the right to be derisory about it. When did a Sri Lankan getting good grades and caring about his/her vocabulary getting picked on become acceptable? No seriously, as a country I thought topping classes was our 'thang'.

All my lab colleagues call me a 'nerd', ask me for spellings of 'not so obscure' words (once a friend asked me for the spelling of 'decision', I almost ended up choking on my food) and my nickname is name-paedia. One of my thesis committee members even thinks that there is nothing I don't know about. Whilst all this can be some kind of an ego boost when I am in dire straits in terms of lack of self confidence, most of the time it's annoying. It's annoying when your junior colleague uses you like Google, asks you research related things which she thinks she is too cool to read up on and such things and tells me that she has a 'life' and I don't.

So for all those like me, I have compiled a list of tips on how to identify an 'academic ninja', from herein known simply as 'AN'.  An AN maybe identified if she possesses one or more characteristics in the following list:

1. Is inclined to read up and do proactive research on matters which matters to her. 

2. Knows the difference between your and you're, its and it's, or knows that the plural of cul-de-sac is culs-de-sac.

3. Never asks another person something which she can look up from wikipedia, or better yet contributes to wikipedia. 

4. Reads books, magazines, journals articles, monogrammes, and watches documentaries and such things; and please no brain numbing material (how Bieber made his music video doesn't constitute a documentary). 

5. Has worked in a lab, or with a simulation tool or has published case studies. 

6. Or any other characteristic which is deemed appropriate by a congregation of two or more ANs.

So if you qualify due to any of the reasons listed above welcome to the coterie of academic ninjas. Who are others to tell us that we are self-sufficient in the gray matter department. We know it already people. As Bill Gates aptly put "Be nice to academic ninjas, chances are you will end up working for one". (No seriously, he said that, it was lost whilst transcribing)