Letters to Preeti, I

Dear Preeti
How have you been? I will take this opportunity to let you know that I have decided to write letters to you. So this is nothing more than a self aware letter announcing it’s existence to a little piece of spacetime, an island in reality, that’s called Preeti.

We are very lenient in terms of classes. The teacher writes and the student gets to nod her head. If an idea seemed too much in the air, the student thinks, she gets curious , wanders away through her windows and coconut trees. Sometimes for real before Skype.

Before I take you to the place, I must tell you about the place a bit more. The place is real. The ideas are true. The intentions are innocent. And the purposes are none. Some of the land is only fertile in letting dolphins fly out in dreams. But the narrator would be logically consistent about it.

I want you to notice how the laws of this world are spontaneous. They have a way of being true on their own. It’s almost as if they would have been true had you paid attention. Like an old man looking at a painting, that comes alive on its own and then the old man gets to scratch his bald of about no hair and feel wise.

The Only thing is you and me and all that we are, are in the painting.

Notice how the idea of truth has a taste of singularity to it. The physicist takes off his hat and sees the dynamics. There is a pattern, the painting evolves and changes but according to it’s own rules.
Because you, me and all of everything behind your backyard is inside the painting, we find in the rules a sense of realization.The bond is when you say, ‘Huh.. Why else wouldn’t it be this.’

The place is an abstract of course and the thoughts I am afraid are suffering of one-sidedness. I miss your shaky head Preeti and the occasional signs of assurances. And of course, the lack of resonance. You see now, that’s all people are trying to do, find relevant frequencies in their 1980s dabba like radios, pointing them to each other in marconi style. Our reality is sad Preeti. Sad in funny ways.

But anyway, since you have tuned in and come this far downtown, let me show you the first place we will park camp. It’s Newton 1675, an apple and a very outrageous thought.

One that explained everything. Almost.

Until Next time,

From the Troubled Chapters with Roma

To My Coconut laden lady in Haste.

QM in a nutshell

The mathematics of probabilities that one encounters in the classical realm is too uninspired to include the idea of indistinctness.

And when it did, it turned out indistinct alternatives interfere.
The interference terms were beyond questioning because it talks about how certain alternatives happened together indistinctly.

Momentum on the other hand is defined as the quantity that is conserved under translational symmetry.

In a quantum context this could mean the span of states that are indistinguishable in terms of momentum and should add up in a complex space is spanned by the position space as a parameter.
In simpler terms, much less stringent, a momentum state is invariant with respect to position.

Classical mechanics involves seeing the world evolve in a phase space that spans (x,p). Instead we move to a Hibbert space where x and p are not defined together but in dual representations of either x states or p states where the geometry has every p state as the summation of x states and vice versa in order to incorporate the indistinctness under translational invariance.

The question one could raise at this point is what about a system that doesn’t have translational invariance but has a particle in a potential.
The confusion arises due to two reasons; we are interested in the symmetry of the relevant states and how they are defined rather than the symmetry of the system. The second being the fact that we do not measure Hamiltonians or Langrangians, all we measure are momentums and positions.

The reasonable way to see if a system has translational symmetry or not is to set a particle in its momentum state free and see if the translational symmetry is maintained throughout the dynamics. In a potential as time unfolds multiple momentum states would be excited and the reality would be an interference but each of those states would still have an underlying translational invariance.
The problem was in understanding this underlying symmetry and its connection to how the corresponding states are defined.

The rest of the formulation is simply driven by the intention to incorporate uncertainty. Observables are elevated to operators so that some of them donot commute and hence cannot share the same eigenfunctions. The picture is only capable of predicting certain quantities exactly while the rest are determined in expectation values to varying degrees of (un)certainty.

Everything else in classical mechanics regarding generators of transformations, the relations amongst them in terms of expectation values go through. While that leads to the formulation based on canonical quantization, Feynman’s path integrals is a rigorous description of the dynmaics of a system taking into account the indistinctness of the paths chosen (or rather taken) by nature.

The authors also wish to notify that even though the discussion has been done in the language of (x,p)-uncertainty, the theme of the analysis works in a much broader perspective. An energy state represented by a stationary solution represents how the probabilities are independent of time and how under time translation the dynamics stays invariant. We are incapable of guessing the point of time by looking at the dynamics.

Even degeneracy that arises in systems that have certain symmetries have a resultant eigenstate as the superposition of all the possible indistinct states that span the degenerate plane due to the underlying symmetry.

Our work tries to reflect how quantum mechanics is a description of an otherwise classical world with an added understanding of indistinctness and how it arises in the context of symmetries.

This work is a manifestation of an obsessive curiosity in the respective writers to explore the connections amongst certain key ideas that work at the very heart of quantum mechanics, some of which are completely absent in classical mechanics. The idea was to realize what exactly it is that is wrong in classical mechanics and how it is being modified to imitate nature and her reality in a more effective way. One of the writers also wishes to thank his mother and her persistent queries regarding understanding quantum mechanics.

17 miles and a half , I

The corridor was long enough to see all the way till the end. You would walk it down to your flat. On the way you would be in your thoughts. In one of those corners where the wind, if sultry the weather was warm. If the sounds made sense some time, the conversations got even more indifferent.

He sat in one corner of his prison cell of a flat, okay may be a bit more upper middle class than that. And sketched up some goofy face of a guy.
She brought coffee from a nearby place.

That morning was particularly one of the better ones, he thought. The breakfasts need to get crunchier, she thought. After a lazy coffee they did it again.

Later she would think again of what he said during breakfast. She loved the deeper conversations even though down the long corridor, towards the end he still always seemed indifferent. One of those emptier qualities that girls of a certain kind like, she thought. Is that true, is she really a kind?

She had pretty eyes, he thought. And an ass that could kill an entire Latin american tribe. But she was definitely one of the quieter ones he had met. Funny when two quiet people fall for each other. Things are said in phrases in ways other than words. You pick up a hint there, she gets all the blind spots in every corner. She often seemed mysterious to him. But the mornings weren’t as curious usually. Most mornings in this planet are spent finding your good old head back. Somewhere on the edge of the darker side of the earth, a diameter of people get up and yawn and go back to sleep to get up again, It’s a wave that keeps going round the earth every twenty-four hours.

Whats with the grin on all the faces.
They go well with bored faces.

And why are they bored.
‘Cause that’s what comes out of my fingers these days. The season of bored faces.
‘Come around, it’s all improvised.’

He looked dumb while saying that, she thought. With his coffee hand doing an over eager cheers at the window. But she laughed anyway. He looked at her carefully every time she did that. This was one of the better mornings, he thought.

Dear Preeti

I forgot to tell you about this crash course into a company job that I did in the middle. Fellow stranger in the cafe. One day ended up right in the middle of a familiar circle. I suppose that says a lot about the guy.

First talk we had was me getting offered and also hired. I had absolutely no say in the middle. Three hours later I was wondering ‘did that guy just hire me.’

Anyways I moved from a versatile applicant to a content writer to us writing an article together on friendship to absolutely nowhere. His idea, my words but my words were too brilliant, guy went and ripped every line. He did mention he loved it.

Towards the end he did a psycho fucking analysis on me and we departed with smiles. Three days later he quit his job too.
Today he has a new company and he is sitting right next to me, interviewing another chick. Chick is trying to pull off this crazy versatile gig on him and he is doing a very strong psychoanalysis of her. Two fat people and an interesting collision. The evening’s colored around here. How about you?

Are you liking it there. Are you getting to learn. Have you made new friends. How is old Calicut doing. And yes! Take strolls outside the campus. Perhaps while you run. Calicut is green in its most natural and there are hills everywhere. You will hit very good points for sightseeing during your run. Explore a bit deeper. Run amongst the local lanes, amidst the local houses and you will meet weird ends. A deep ditch full of banana plants, a valley into another hill. I used to get away during sunset. Do that. Get away. I want to know what you find.

But wait. You are a girl. o.O

Naah, you are strong and scary.
I am sure you will be fine.

Anyways, I will go now. Hope you are having a lovely time.

Your troubled troublemaker troublesome friend
Chitro

 

Wasps, Viruses and Chickens

I was down with viral for 4 days. And after 4 tired pain in the ass days, dad decided to help and sent me a BSF patient of his. Little tiny fucker. Growing up I was always scared of dad’s patients. Dad’s a psychiatrist. Most of them were mad.

So this guy got me some meds and a plate of indian chicken beeriyani. 5th day, my fever was almost done, I looked at that giant juicy leg piece like an angel dangling one of her naked legs down from the sky, you know.. with a very subtle twitch to the ass , screaming out to be saved.
So yeah, I was all onto her.

And now I am here. In a public washroom of a lesser known part of the town. Contemplating my last 15 days. First I get bit by a wasp and move around with a finger the size of a chipmunk. Then I get viral. And when that got over, I got stuck with a  fuckin’ chicken that doesn’t want to let go.

So that’s what my days been lately colored with.
Wasps, Viruses. And sad fuckin’ chickens.
What about you?

______________

Vats: What the.. what literal value this could possibly have.
None. I am being silly in between beautiful phrases. It’s fun. 

 

This and that

This was when Sid thought his life’s narration was sounding like an extended note of a sad dissonant song. When all the attempts at escapism had finally succeeded to make him absolutely irrelevant. Sid wanted to get lost and this time around, Sid did get lost.

Often times he would find himself caught in irrelevant defensive monologues. Almost like a sad play written by a drunk poet in his yellow shark underwears.

Often times he would wonder why his humor has gotten this black. Tastes like black coffee on a Sunday morning. Sunday mornings are supposed to blow like trumpets in your snores. Sunday mornings are supposed to be about scratching your morning boner and let it do the thinking for you.  Why let coffee take all that away.. yeah?

Sid would come to know this far after the train had left the town. That all his excuses of sneaking away had failed at keeping the secret. Often times Sid would feel like a spy sent into foreign land. With a plan that got cancelled and him left stranded in between. With a fake identity and an  existential crisis on top of it.

Are you using it as a crutch for you to stay afloat?
‘I was’, said Sid. ‘Now I am looking at the fireworks.’

 

Let’s just talk, I

Words are exciting. The fact that I could scribble something here and you could taste them on the other side, in a mind of your own and see what I saw well somewhat similar anyway, that never existed in the first place  is  exciting.

Sooner or later though, a voice would raise its squeaky head and go, ‘But Chitro! You need a story. A plot. Something along which things can happen. Things need to happen, Chitro!’. And I would be like ‘oh shut up’.

Things haven’t happened in a long time you know. Real life, reality as we know it are nothing but boring islands in time. You hit one and you go, ‘So where are the coconuts falling!’ But coconuts… coconuts don’t fall. Fuckers are lazy. 

‘Do you wanna climb the tree Johnny.’ ‘

Naah… let’s just wait for them to fall.’ 

See that. Dumb island boys.

I suppose most of the time the dynamics is in words. The things you say, the people I get to meet while you discuss them, the places I take you that I never got to paint before.

There’s never really any real plot. Its just me trying to live in different storylines inside your mind while being stuck in another one that’s equally boring. Do you feel the escapism there. I suppose I will always be a confused soul.

One that got stuck in an old bridge, that rocks somewhere in between static visuals of large wide spaces that kick starts its brain and of course, elaborate words that go nowhere but then again, don’t you love  following them anyway.

In terms of my semi professional fooling around with words, I think I will peak as an individual the day I get to say,

‘John Snow stole my chicken’

and make some form of sense down the line. That’s the other thing isn’t it. Words are full of possibilities.    

Halfway Sketches, I

One of the problems with Sid’s airy existence is how childish it seems. People aren’t threatened a lot. Back in the prehistoric times, Sid would have failed the battalion tests and end up on top of a watchtower. With a pair of binoculars, a bow and a few arrows.

‘What are you looking at Sid?’

‘This hawk dude. It’s scratching its knees!’

‘We are on war Sid.’

That’s the thing, isn’t it. Back in those days perhaps everyone was always on war.
A hawk with an itch seemed rarer.

 

Outtakes on the Cartoonist, III

The giant sat right next to me in the cafe balcony.

He sits on a little tool, much lower.

And still makes it till my eyes.

 

My 1st girlfriend was like a time bomb ticking away you know.

She eventually blew up.

The last panel’s got a guy looking up at the scribbled explosion.

 

Johnny looked up at mom.

What do you want.

I feel irrelevant tonight mom.

Johnny was 4. Even at 54 , he still was 4.

 

The poetry is uncertain, the narrative is wild tonight.

Godless men and cute ass whores gone wild.

My Poetry classes got critiqued a lot.

 

And then the comedian laughed away into his last panel.

When a man threw a bottle at him.

He missed. The fucker was drunk.

 

 

 

South City Blues, II

Padhai karo, IIT karo, job lo, paisa kamao, bandi dhundo, shaadi karo, flat lo, bachche uchche paida karo, sabji khareedo, bachche ko padhao, news dekho, desh ko gaali do, raat ko bhagwan dhundo, use bhi gaali do aur fir so jao.

(Study, get to a good university, get a job, earn money, find a girl, marry her, find a flat, put the girl in the flat, make kids, get vegetables, spend time with kids, look at news, abuse the country, look for god at night, abuse the fuck out of him and then go to sleep.)

Repeat that for 70 fuckin’ years till you hit a family picture of your wife, her kids, her grandkids, her pets and you. With a 7 inch creepy smile and about two of your teeth remaining.

Stare at the picture a bit too long and see if you can internalize the ‘happiness’. The last two teeth would probably be canines and you would wonder in that old worn out brain of yours if her 3rd cousin’s new dog looks better than you in the picture.

‘ Meet Tommy. He is an half hawaiian, half alsatian. His balls were removed last summer. He looks happy. He looks better than me.’