What's Your Number

As a kid, I was always mesmerized by numbers. They seemed to carry some magic. I saw patterns in numbers. They looked like geometrical figures and I always thought that there was some hidden connection between the shapes and the numbers.

Someone asked me my favourite number and i started finding the answer.

1. Nunero Uno

The first, the best, the unique, one at the top. This is the king of numbers. Neither prime nor composite, beyond it. It shows unity, shows power (in hands of one).

It stands for one god, single truth. It stands for completeness.

It's a lonely number although.

2. Duality

Two is company. Two is split. Black & White, Darkness & Light, Good & Evil. Two is pair, complementing each other and incomplete alone. Nar & Narayan, Atma & Paramatma, Prakriti & Purush. This number reminds me of Ardhnarishwar.

Two is state. Happy & Sad, On & Off, 0 & 1: origin of the binary system and the whole of information revolution.

Two is contrast. Yes & No, Right & Left ( in every sense- right brain vs left brain, right hand vs left hand, right wing politics vs left)

Well talking about two, I must share a joke I read somewhere: "There are two types of people- Those who split everything into two and those who don't."

3. Trio

Three is magic. Three is mystery. I love triangles. They are magical. They represent strength. I always wondered (until I learnt later), why every structure you see is made of triangular shapes. Three is stability ( a tripod never shakes).

Three draws parallels: Trilok, Brahma-Vishnu-Mahesh, Mahakaali-Mahalaxmi-Mahasaraswati. This is not a split of contrasts but of facets.

Three dimensions of space and a fool lost within.

4. Quad

Four is flat. Emotionless. Four directions, four walls. Equal in measure, precise and dull.

Four faces are quite common in Hindu mythology and forms our national emblem as well (Ashok Stambh)

5. High Five

Pentagon rules the world (literally :P). Five fingers, Five senses, Five elements ( and not four. i am an Indian you see ).

Coming back to geometry, a regular pentagon has an angle of 108 degrees (another magical number ! )

6. Hex

God does play dice. How can he resist the temptation?? I love this number as I love cricket and I love hexagons.

I am hexed by the way :)

7. The Queen

This number definitely deserves the status. Biggest single digit prime number. Seven notes, seven colours, seven seas, seven births, seven vows, seven days, seven stars (saptarishi).

You just can't ignore the beauty, you are bound to fall in love with the queen.

8. Oct

Complexity personified. Eight is cube of two. 3D split.

I remember the rangoli's by my mother with eight petals. Kind of elegant.

9. On cloud nine

This is another magical number. Derived from three, it carries its magic and mystery to next level. But it looses the simplicity in the process.

0. Nothing

I missed this one. I remember another incident like this. The first law of thermodynamics had already been discovered (law of conservation of energy) and later a law was discovered which was even more basic. This one in fact defined the whole branch of study. So this one was called the Zeroth law of Thermodynamics.

This number represents nothing. And includes everything. The basis of every number system- binary, hexadecimal or decimal; whatever.The India's contribution to the world of mathematics and philosophy. It's the fifth element that Greeks had left- the SPACE.

It's synonymous to nirgun- 'without attributes' ; the all pervading, all including. The ultimate bliss, the Nirvana.

This is what differentiates, the Indian philosophy from rest of the world.

Well... white is my favorite colour. Someone may say that it's not a colour but for it is. It contains every colour and is still so pure, so complete.

What's Your Rashi

Ashutosh Gowarikar continues his fascination with long flicks. While Lagan kept you hooked, this one sucks. BIG TIME. The worst part of the movie is its story. A young NRI (harman) starts searching for a bride and is convinced that there are 12 types of girls based on zodiac (rashi). So he decides to meet one girl of each rashi and decide the best one for him ( what an idea sirji !!! A really nice sampling method). Even for someone like me, born in a family of firm believers in astrology, the concept of dividing people in 12 categories is DUMB.

As the story proceeds you get irritated by the 12 characters appearing on screen one after another, all played by priyanka chopra. Most of the characters are such, that you hope never to meet them in real life. Every character has been reduced to a single trait. For example all you get to know about one girl is that she is not a virgin. What the hell !!! This is all the person is worth ???

The direction is no better. Ashutosh Govarikar completely disappoints. Editing could have been better. Cinematography is above average.
Harman's performance is not going to take him any further. He delivers a flat performance; expressionless. But I would consider it more of a fault on director's part. But 'man.... ooops woman of the match' goes to priyanka. This movie has given her a jackpot and she grabs it. There was a time i counted priyanka in good for nothing stars, but she has really worked hard. First Kaminey n now What's your rashi, she is getting better everyday.

RATING : 1/5

The alarm was ringing and Anuj was trying hard to search for the clock, eyes closed. When he could not find it finally, he gave in and got up only to discover that he was sleeping on the floor. The table his hand was trying to feel in sleep wasn't there. He didn't remember how he slept like that. ' Oh God! I am never drinking again...'

He still has the hangover and thinks of sleeping again but decides otherwise and reaches for his toothbrush. The corridor is all empty. Not a single sound. He feels jealous of the sleeping souls and through his way to the bathroom, keeps cursing his khadoos professor. Extra class on a Sunday morning! 7 AM!

Last night they had a break-up party . Avinash was heartbroken and they had organized a party to cheer him up. The winning captain of the the cricket match of the hostel backyard was supposed to pay for the drinks. Rahul paid for it gladly, with the scholarship money he hadn't told about anyone back home.
Bottles opened and toast raised. Most of them hugged Avi and tried to convince him what a whore she was. Anuj didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet and enjoyed the beer. By the end of first bottle the horizon of discussion broadened up. The topics varied from cricket to women to movies, professors, annual sports and what not.

Beer was followed by Vodka. On second peg the topic changed to batch tussle in general and coming annual sports in particular. They abused the senior batch for cheating in the Volley ball match last year and vowed to fuk'em up this time. A toast raised to the Director's Cup.

He wasn't good at sports. Not enough to be in the batch team. In fact he wasn't so good at anything, just an average performer. He wasn't the hero, be it semester results or cultural fest. He was the guy who would go unnoticed; always moving in company. But secretly he always desired to be a hero some day. Holding the cup with that victorious smile, rising above what he was: a MEDIOCRE.

The sun was yet to rise and the air outside was chilly. He headed towards the college. Madan's Chai shop on the way was deserted. Soon this place would be bustling with cups of chai & ciggis and talks worth a million dollar. He looks at the rows of Gulmohar. The blossom greets him with brightness of fire & sweetness of honey.

Mechanical department was half a cigarette away from the main building. He looks at the watch. Half an hour early! 'My God! I didn't change the alarm time last night.' He decides to go to Ganga-ghat; his favorite place in the college. It's like a temple to him. He sat at the place for hours together, being with it, being in it.

As he reached near, he recognized the sound of the flute a fisherman always played, sitting on the ghat. He sat on the stairs listening to the tune and looked at the sun. It looked like a big orange ball above the bridge across Ganga. He turns his head and is surprised to see Swati.
It's been two years since they've known each other. He met her at the cultural society meeting and was highly impressed. The confidence she had, the conviction with which she spoke, the way she carried herself; everything about her was was mesmerizing. Two years and still the same feelings, as fresh as day one.
She was a student of architecture, one year senior to him. She was the cultural secy and that was the reason, he became a member of the society. He never missed the meetings for those were the only chances he had to talk to her. She had a girlie look with tomboyish attitude, clad mostly in a long kurta and with earrings and pendants of bizarre shapes. Her father was a big shot. While most of the girls used public transport or scooty at best, she had a chauffeur driven sedan.
She was busy painting the sunrise above the bridge and didn't notice him. He was watching her paint like a mother watches her kid at play. She looked so beautiful. Her forehead shining in the morning sunlight, some loose strands of hair flowing with the morning breeze, the gem on her nose pin with a red sparkle and her eyes in full bloom just like the gulmohar blossom.

He wonders if he'll ever be able to win her, to hold her like his prize with that smile of victory. If ever he'll be the HERO of his dreams.
He looks at his watch and it's quarter past seven already. He rushes to his class, to his everyday life.

APARAAJITA

She woke up with a heavy head. She could not sleep till 2 and now this din that woke her up! Last night was a busy one. Plenty of customers. Some provoked by the bonus payments in the festive season and others taking last sips before getting into a period of abstinence.

The noise was still there. "They have come to take some earth for the idol." What an irony ! The idol of the goddess of power made of earth from the courtyard of her weakest creations. She laughs at herself and goes near the tap to wash her face. On the side of the window blooms a bright purple flower. This wild creeper has been cut so many times but every time it rises again, peeping through the window with the same purple smile, living its name 'aparaajita'

Her warden, popularly known as bhabhi, is a woman in her late 50s. She runs the most popular brothel in lachchipur, a place famous for the trade. Lachchipur is a name derived from the name of the goddess Laxmi. She smiles again.

She was 8 when bhabhi bought her. She still has the memories of her childhood, as if preserved in the folds of malmal. Her village in midnapore, the pond that she bathed in, they games she played with the broken bangles of her mother.....

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She has decided now. She has had enough of it and can't live like this anymore. Durga puja was the best time to flee, when all the people are busy enjoying the fair. She wants to go to her village. But who is waiting ?? No. She will head straight towards Dhanbad, where Jhumpa lives. She has promised to get her a maid's job. She isn't used to hardships, and the salary is really petty. It's going to be a tough life there. Brothels make you so much trapped that you don't need to be locked to be kept inside!

But No. She has decided. Now nothing can hold her, Deb included. Debnath ran an illegal country liquor shop across the street and supplied to her customers as well. He was the only one she felt an affection for. A mere mention of his name would make her blush. She would dodge bhabhi for a date with him and get a scolding later. But his single smile would more than make up for all that. She asked him to take her away. But he wasn't ready. Running away with her would mean throwing away a smoothly running business. He could not do that. Not for her....

She got her answer that day. All he was interested in was free sex. She decided she will leave alone. Unlike this creeper on the window, she doesn't need a support to stand on.

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She threw the brick away. Her sari had stains of blood. But there was no time to think. She pushed open the door and started running at her highest pace. The train was about to arrive. This was the only option she had. She paced up even more. Limits of the soma stretched by the strength of the psyche. The sound of brass drums from the evening prayers filled the air. In the light of the lamp, sparkled the eyes of the goddess with blood stained spear in her hand. The chants rose

"ya devi sarvabhooteshu shaktiroopen sansthita;

namstasyye namstasyye, namstasyye namo namah"

When she reached the station, she heard a distant whistle. She was panting heavily and could hear the beats of her heart, aloud; sounding just like that railway tracks with the train arriving, in resonance with each other...

It was dawn when she woke up, alone in the train. The music from a vijaydashmi procession was getting louder, like reaching towards her. Women smeared in red vermilion were ecstatic.

Shubh Bijoy. Hail the victory....