Category Archives: Thoughts

Always.

If only people understood
that one can love more
than one with tributaries
running in parallel, without
feeding off each other, that
the vectors of my love don’t
intertwine and dissect, rather
time and space does, and
thus, my mind and body,
but love is not in the encompassing
attention that I can dispose to
one at one space-time coordinate
but the overarching rib-cage
of feeling that melts into one
candle wick whose wax never
wears off – rekindled each time
with words, voices and presence
for the vortex in the centre of
my chest relives the warm
liquid nervousness, and my
body remembers your touch.
There is an eternality to love,
if we let ourselves share it with more
not in the coffin of singular expression
but in the in-between of presence,
that I will always share with you.

Coo

Alighting on the perch of a window sill,
A dove ruffles it’s feathers, it’s beak pecking
In ratatat, jarring, as if it’s neck were a spring
It stares at the sunrise, in deep contemplation
A silent wonderment each new morn, the majesty
Was it’s to own and bask in, as the pagan surveys
The surrounding, rather alone, with a menagerie
Of curtained inky windowpanes with a gleaming star
In the middle, sparkling the sky-scraping landscape
In one glorious vision, a thousand suns off a thousand
Panes, echo location carries back the light,
To distinctly demarcate, the avian, till the window sill
Disturbed, a shudder of wings, a flash of fiery feather
Vanish, a thousand doves in flight,
A pair of eyes looks out of the glass, scratches head
Looks at the sun for a long five seconds,
Yawns, and goes back to bed.

Dismantling the Concept

Focus and  attention.

At one point of time, I can only focus on one thing. Let’s assume there is a table, a chair and a waste-basket in a room. As I enter the room, I see the table and chair, but not the waste-basket which is placed in the corner of the room. My attention is on the table and chair. A second later my attention swivels to the waste-basket. The table and the chair vanish from direct sight. But I know that they are there. You see, moments of perception such as the table-chair moment and the waste-basket moment, essentially times, come together to create the present. Memory holds it together, for as I turn to the waste-basket, I remember that the table-chair are in the room, so I conclude that the room has a table, a chair and a waste-basket within its four walls. It’s beautiful, the concepts at work here. As I leave the room, take a step out of it, opening the door, I know that if I re-enter it, I will see the same things in their place – nothing would have moved. The concept of the table, chair and the waste-basket, the properties I have ascribed to those physical objects through learning and experience of them, tell me that they are inanimate objects, and thus would not move from their place. To confirm this, I re-enter the room. Imagine my surprise, or rather shock, if I find that the three objects have vanished, similar to the shock I would feel if I looked first at the table and chair, then at the waste-basket and then “empty” space where the table and chair had been, that the table and chair had vanished.

Let’s look at the concept of the room itself.  A space enclosed within four walls, a roof and (not necessarily) an entry of some kind into that space. “The car has room for four people”, it has space, or probably seating for four people. That’s how we function: attributing concepts to physical objects – our interaction with them dictated by our understanding of their structure, and their functioning – both created by us for them (in case of artificial objects). Coming back to the concept of the room, I know that the walls are solid and so are the objects – table, chair and waste-basket inside it, so now I know that if I lock the door, they can’t escape – solid can’t go through solid – so imagine my shock if I unlock the door and find them missing. Let’s take two considerations into account, first, that the room is windowless and has no entrance/ exit, other than the door, that it is impenetrable otherwise (including the floor) and second, that I have the only key to the room which I’m sure no one has taken from me. So, how do I think the furniture escaped?

The problem area is me.

Just because I’m sure that no one else has taken the key from me, does not mean that no one else has taken the key from me. This shows the gap that exists between reality and our account of it, spurred by our experience and perception. That seems the most likely conclusion, that someone took the key from me, without my knowledge of it. The other conclusion is that someone dismantled the door. Look at my concepts at work here – “someone”. It had to be a person, how else would inanimate objects move? How can another animal or plant dismantle the door? Why can’t it be a machine? Hasn’t artificial intelligent developed to that extent?

If we think about our logical connections and learning, I think the results will surprise us, especially, the amount of interaction with the world that takes place inside our head.