THE MIDAS' TOUCH

“I was, I remember, I waited, and…..” she sighed. “….. and what……. Oblivion?” I said. She turned and smiled, “no, I am…….” Her words left me questioning and I added, “Sorry, I couldn’t get you….”.

“It feels as if it’s an eternal, comfortable halt of time, an inseparable part of my being and trust me, I’m okay with it”.
I walked out of the room without a word, with my mind stepping into my subconscious world of reason, all the grief was washed in the flood of her pain. I flashed back to the hours of my ‘hectic’ Sunday morning.

I had woken up with a pile of books over my head and rushed for the breakfast leaving my messy cubbyhole as it had been. On the way I measured, as usual, the pros and cons of life- where I had been ditched, where I had gone wrong, what the future undertakings would be, blah, blah, blah… and that was the time my cell buzzed. It had been an old friend calling up for a coffee together. I too had become nostalgic. “Fine, CCD at 4, sharp!” I had said. But he interrupted, “No, you come to the hospital, we’ll walk to the place”. “Okay”, I had agreed and disconnected the call. A 4:03, I walked up the stairs of the medical giant of the city, ignoring the inevitable truths of life. I geared to his chamber but it was then it happened.

I paused, took a slender tilt, and was spellbound. It was a general ward and a divinely charming face, a heavenly smile that drove me steps into the ward. She gave a sweet smile to the nurse but the busy bee took no notice of that. It seemed rude anyways.
I flicked through her files and shivers rolled down my spine….. age-28, disease- a long biological term I couldn’t even pronounce. “Hello!” she said, “I suppose the nurse has left but I can still feel someone’s presence, may I know who is that, please?”
I drew near, she was blind! I took three steps backwards and cleared my throat that had almost choked. “I am sorry, I was just…”
“It’s okay, people rarely peek into these grave wards,” she cut me in.
“I am getting late, my friend must be waiting.”- I was almost about to say this but my lips virtually paralyzed. There was an obvious inquisitiveness bubbling in me, but her soft words dismantled the guts I had built to uncover the truth. I stood erect as time kept running like water under a bridge. Minutes passed by…
“Are you still here, do you want something?” her voice broke the silence.

My curiosity ruled over my honesty and the truth and I responded, “Actually, I was just on a survey for an interview, may I have one from you?”
“Surely, you may.”
“So, I went through your file, for how long have you been admitted here?” my intonation was not continuous and a shiver ruled it.
“4 years or so,” she replied.
Soon, her affirmation revealed her past. I could extract from her words that her disease was not as simple as blindness; she was suffering from a slow failure of senses, or better say, of the nervous system, when any nerve of her biological circuit could fail anytime. And 6 failures she had already gone through. One being that of the optical nerve, of course and the other major ones were those of smell and touch. This further took me out of my so called senses.
But you always have a cell phone to get back to this world of people.
“Hello, where are you? I have been waiting for the last 10 minutes!”
“Later!” was all that I had said before simply disconnecting the call.
“You can leave, actually. I don’t know why people have to lie when the truth is so simple.”
Her words took me by surprise.
“It’s not that only journalists have the right to explore people…. And people like me who are research objects for the biggest brains of the country are made to be explored.”
I was dumbstruck, but her words cleared the mist of discomfort between us. Finally I summed up enough courage to solve the conundrum for which I had sacrificed my childhood mate’s precious call.
“How did this happen, I mean, the first time you……?”
“It was a conference on green engines on Germany and I was to present papers challenging the ruling green engine…. You remember 1.4ltsi of the giant VW?”
I replied with a nod….. a pause…. And then, “Hmmm…”
“It was then, five minutes before the conference, I couldn’t feel my hold on the papers. That presentation was my midas’ touch,” she sighed.
“The result of 5 years of sheer hard work! So, I neglected the fatal symptom. Soon, I felt I hadn’t put on my clothes, a few steps, and I couldn’t feel the reaction of ground and….”
“And what?”
“The rest is all history, history I care for as much as I cared for the history in my secondary textbooks.”
I could see an abstract grief in her crystal black eyes for missing that presentation.
“So touch was the first sense targeted,” I tried to engage her more on her physical discomfort as I found that it was less painful to her.
“No, it was the sense of not feeling those papers in hand. One hole in the can is enough to spill the milk. Once it’s made, rest makes no big difference.”
“You mean your senses hold lesser importance to you? Now that’s not realistic, sorry to say.”
“Of course, I did not say that. But some things in life, though materialistic, hold great importance and in these 4 years I have turned more meaningful leaves in my life than I did in the years of my Bachelor’s degree! And trust me, losing the sense of touch is a living enlightenment. Although the loss of sight brought a little discomfort, it takes me to my own world of existence, my dimensionless space- a space without photons, without the semi-factual theory of relativity, a world where I don’t have to lie on the fake foundations of axioms to explain my findings…”
She continued with her more meaningful outlook and I listened and listened and listened….
Suddenly, she paused, “I feel it’s been a long time. You should leave….”
“But I want to hear more from you,” I protested.
“Thanks a lot for sharing your time. I have never spoken this much in the last 4 years, but you should return to your ‘world of worlds’.”
“It’s hard to believe how a person can sum up her life in just a smile, remembering each big or small event…” a nudge from a ward boy brought me back to this ‘world of worlds’ as she had said.
I had a day with reason and the next morning was all the same, except…
“Oh! my mobile,” I said as I remembered that I had left it in her ward, on the table.
I rushed to the hospital and soon stepped into the ward.
“May I have my mobile please? I suppose I left it here?”
She smiled in the air with an indication that I was challenging her failed senses by asking for it. I picked my mobile up from the table and “hope we meet again” was all that I could conclude with.
She had an unchained pull that wished to say something, but I thought silence was more comfortable.
On my way down the stairs, my ears raised to a conversation-
“What about ward no.33?”
“I had thought that with 6 senses gone she would die of the mental strain, but after losing her voice last night, she’s still struggling with the wrath of nature… miraculous!”
With so many strokes in just 24 hours, I had virtually lost my senses…
That proposal was not her midas’ touch. It was her fight for existence that lost sense of touch which was emerging each moment, as a midas’ touch for her.

ROGER FEDERER- A Magician, an artist, a genius and what not?

Who hasn’t heard this name? If someone hasn’t, then he can be considered to be unaware of the happenings in his vicinity.

A magician, a genius, an artist, probably the god himself at work on the tennis court. You’ll fall short of superlatives when you see this man play on the tennis court. In fact, even Shakespeare would have fallen short of words if asked to describe him. You’ll envy him when you see him on the battlefield (yes, his battlefield is the tennis court). His composure, cool, temperament……everything about him is just so perfect.

This great, yet so humble, man known by the name Roger Federer, is popularly called ‘Fed-Ex’ or ‘Federer Express’ or ‘Swiss Maestro’ by his fans. He has won 16 Grand Slam singles titles (till the date of writing this article. This got to be mentioned because he is simply unstoppable), more than any other male player. Federer's versatility was epitomised by Jimmy Connors' statement: "In an era of specialists, you're either a clay court specialist, a grass court specialist, or a hard court specialist...or you're Roger Federer."

On getting the privilege to see him play (well…yes, it’s actually a privilege), one realizes his artistry, the aura of this man, the atmosphere he creates when he steps on the battlefield with his array of shots. He is just invincible. Hemlock, A crowbar to the knees, Locusts- To most tennis fans, these might seem like the only ways to topple Roger Federer, arguably the greatest tennis player of all time. These are times, as you watch the young Swiss play, when the jaw drops and eyes protrude and sounds are made that bring spouses in from other rooms to see if you’re O.K. The moments are more intense if you’ve played enough tennis to understand the impossibility of what you just saw him do. It’s like something out of “The Matrix.”

Talking about his shots, he has got them all in his arsenal; too many shots, too much talent in one body. It's hardly fair that one person can do all this—his backhands, his forehands, volleys, serving, his court position. The way he moves around the court, you feel like he's barely touching the ground.

Federer is an all-court player known for his fluent style of play and shot making. Federer mainly plays from the baseline but is also comfortable at the net being one of the best volleyers in the game today. It seems as if the net is being guarded by The Great Wall of China. The ball just doesn’t wish to cross it. Federer’s forehand is a great liquid whip, his serve has world-class pace and a degree of placement and variety no one else comes close to; the service motion is lithe and uneccentric, distinctive (on TV) only in a certain eel-like all-body snap at the moment of impact. He is often able to produce big serves on key points during a match. His anticipation and court sense are otherworldly, and his footwork is the best in the game.

He is barely human when it comes to defense. He seems to return everything that comes his way down the baseline. He moves like a fluid on the court. Every player on tour would love to smack more winners than Federer. But trying to outshoot the game's most graceful shooter is like trying to out-jump Michael Jordan in his prime. It just won't happen.

As graceful an artist as he is on the tennis court, no true artist paints with two hands. The grace with which he hits the backhand, a one-hander that he can drive flat, load with topspin, or slice — the slice with such snap that the ball turns shapes in the air and skids on the grass to maybe ankle height, it can’t get any better. It attracts admirers. And that backhand slice……..WOW!!! It’s the most admired shot in tennis. He deprives the ball of its pace, thereby teasing his opponent and thus forcing them to make the error by opening up the court for this master to hit the ball with extreme brutality.

The angle that he generates when hitting shots leaves everyone wondering whether he’s got a sextant in his hands. ‘How can someone hit that shot with so much accuracy and precision?’ It leaves the opponent gasping for breath. ‘What can one do when your opponent plays such marvelous tennis?’ He is able to see, or create, gaps and angles for winners that no one else can envision. All this is true, and yet none of it really explains anything or evokes the experience of watching this man play.

His between-the-legs backwards cross-court winner against Djokovic (which was awarded as the best shot of the year 2009) still mesmerizes you.

The only way left to beat him is to take him to a restaurant and put a little hot tamale in his food.

After achieving so much in life, probably almost everything, he’s so humble and generous. That speaks volumes of his grandeur. His unusually steady and mature commitment to his girlfriend (now wife) makes every girl wish for a partner like him. He's a real person. He's not an enigma. Off the court he's not trying to be somebody. If you met him at McDonald's and you didn't know who he was, you would have no idea that he's one of the best athletes in the world. His politeness and frankness have endeared him to the tennis fans. He’s the king of tennis arena!!!

INCREDIBLE INDIA???

India is like a sari- a colourful paraphernalia of different cultures, races and religions. It's a place where knowledge runs deep and values are held high where culture is seated on the lap of honour. It's the land of great sages, the birthplace of discovery and enlightenment. But nowadays, all this takes a back seat when asked to describe our motherland.

If asked to pick some extraordinary quality about our country, it most certainly has to be politics and corruption. Oh come on, India is known for its corruption. we top the chart of least corrupt countries from bottom. Isn't that an achievement? To call ourselves least honest is million times better than being called the most corrupt country in the world. The aliens also visit this planet frequently in search of a country named India, wherein they seek some corruption tips. We all follow Einstein's theory of relativity perfectly well, by getting our relatives into the pay roll.

The entire Indian political system suffers from an unknown virus that reduces accountability; of course general population of the country cannot question the decision taken by a politician. The insecurity and fear of confrontation with political goons coupled with a corrupt police and lethargic judiciary are some reasons for this. Most other democracies, besides resisting the concept of dynastic succession in politics, resist the inclusion of criminals as well. We are above such petty traditions that limit the boundaries of individual freedom. We have to show the world how it should be done, gone ahead and given a standing ovation to candidates who combine both these qualities. Divide and rule is the new cool. World like unity and national integration have slipped into obsolescence. Why learn from the West. We don't care about Germany uniting or half of Europe become European Union. After all we are the smartest race in the world. let's have a new slogan: be Indian, break India.

Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you do your best and leave the results to your insurance company. Just trust your instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules leads to much misery and occasional fatality. We enjoy the world's first mass transit system where 'mass rules the road'. People here have got such a strong stimulus that they can react to an approaching vehicle just nanoseconds before being run over, which shows our expertise in the Doppler's effect.

We have got the best neighbours that one can hope for. On one side, we have Pakistan- such a determined nation that it never gives up. China is like our brother but we seldom talk. Nepal- their soldires are trained in our country but still prefers to take sides with the 'not-so-talked-with' brother. The only thing of some respite is that India is a peninsula.

Then we have Bollywood- the largest producer of flop films in the world. I personally love Bollywood but it comes with a bitter truth that it does produce more flops than hits. Basically it helps in giving employement to people which would otherwise amount to labour problems in our country, which in turn would lead to an exponential increase in the population, thereby adding fuel to the fire.

Railway journeys here are known for the exclusively soothing and phenomenal images that are offered early in the morning by the track sides. You just need to peek out of the window. The stations are so clean that even the flies and the cockroaches are apprehensive of conquering that arena. During your journey, you get to hear the enchanting and soothing music and voice of the chaiwallahs, giving the best of the singers a run for their money.

India is also a land of babas- The number of babas in India are inversely proportional to the numbers of tigers (only 1411 left). Each and every channel is flooded with them in the morning. That is the time when you realize the myriad of babas here. Perhaps, some time back, people used to become a baba to take refuge from work to find some peace and solace but now it has become more of a profession.

We have the most efficient and hare-footed judiciary in the world. It takes only an aeon to take decisions. Courts are only interested to try the matter in decades to generate vacancies and giving long dates even beyond one year so that clever people/advocates lodges the complaints to settle the score behind the courts i.e. Temple of Justice being used as a tool or even weapon to perform the legal murder with the help of money to involve advocates, judges as active participants and enjoy MERA BHARAT MAHAAN, INCREDIBLE INDIA, SATYA MEV JAYATE AFTER DEATH. Laws are made for rich; Courts and Laws are not made for innocents/victims. Everything's possible with money.

How long are we going to bear all this? Don't we all envy other countries and say "Look, so and so country is so clean. They are so honest that they don't even count the money that the shopkeeper gives in return. They are no. 3, 4 etc.... in the list of least corrupt countries."

Even the Almighty has given up now!!!

Is this what we call an Incredible India??? Think about it. It's time to wake up now and do something.......... :-|

AMAZING, ISN'T IT?

Can anyone apply Kirchhoff's laws to these two pictures (had to write pictures because I myself couldn't locate the nodes) ???
If there's anyone, please feel free to provide your solutions here.......... :-P