Evolving Minds, Thinking Machines

In my previous pieces on Incompleteness and Chaos, I have often come close to writing about the human mind. I have certainly had questions about the way we understand ourselves (philosophically and scientifically). How did we evolve into conscious, thinking, intelligent beings? Since any theory must stand experimental validation, can scientists test and validate the theory of evolution? Will we ever be able to duplicate our intelligence, our way of thinking in machines? How well can we answer the question, "How do we think?" Here are some glimpses in what may be the answers.

Let us start by taking the tour of a lab populated by 200 computers in the basement of the Plant and Soil Sciences building at Michigan State University. Researchers and scientists here have worked over a decade, to develop Avida. Avida is a digital evolution research platform. What, you might ask, is digital evolution? Consider this scenario:

A digital organism is a few lines of program code which initially does not do anything useful, but can replicate and produce other copies of code like itself. We will call it a primitive digital organism. At regular intervals, we present it with a pair of numbers. At first, it will not be able to do anything with the numbers. Nevertheless, each time it replicates, there is a small chance that one of its command lines might mutate into something else. On a rare occasion, these mutations will allow the organism to process one of the numbers in a simple way. It may acquire the ability simply to read a number, for example, and then produce an identical output.

If that happens, we reward the digital organism by speeding up the time it took it to reproduce. If an organism could read two numbers at once, we would speed up its reproduction even more. If they could add the numbers, we would give them an even bigger reward. Within six months, a lab doing this experiment had organisms, which were addition whizzes. The organisms always evolved, but what was more surprising was exactly how the organisms were adding numbers. Some of the ways they developed during evolution were completely insane, something, which even their creators, had not thought of.

In Avida, a population of self-replicating computer programs is subjected to external pressures (such as mutations and limited resources like a rationed supply of nutrition) and allowed to evolve subject to natural selection. This is not a mere simulation of evolution -- digital organisms in Avida evolve to survive in a complex computational environment and adapt to perform entirely new traits in ways never expected by the researchers, some of which seem highly creative.

Using Avida, scientists have found plausible answers to questions like: Can complex organisms like humans evolve from simple precursors like single celled protozoa? Can natural selection produce a complex organ like the human brain? Why does a forest have so many varieties of plants as in shouldn't only the fittest species have survived? Why do organisms cooperate in nature, when competing for existence? Why is not all reproduction in nature asexual when it is far more efficient than the sexual variety? The implications are completely mind blowing and give rare insights into why we are, the way we are, today.

If you think, however, we know enough already, you are mistaken. Let us consider another facet of this self-quest. The human brain performs at least one quadrillion operations per second, almost a thousand times more than the best supercomputers. Given the overwhelming complexity of the brain, it is not surprising to know that neuro-scientists still do not understand the way the brain processes information. The so called `neural code' which encodes the complex working of small electrical and magnetic impulses, which jump between our neurons, is still not very well understood. How are thoughts triggered in our head? How exactly does a set of neurons fire in or out of sequence to make some of us feel ravenous at the smell of a freshly baked chocolate cake, while making others feel completely nauseated?

Even though the scientists do not know how or why, they seem to be able to record what the neurons do. The patterns in which a whole orchestra of neurons fire in response to a stimuli is observable. By implanting electrodes in a monkey's brains, and analyzing the information from a small set of neurons, scientists have invented a system that could recognize patterns in monkey brains well enough to let the animals swing a robot arm to the left or to the right with their thoughts.

Curiously scientists still argue that chips which, would even, be able to decipher, let alone control the human mind are still far away in the future. When signals in the monkey's brain accompanying a specific arm movement are recorded; they can be processed by a computer and be used to move a robot arm. If the monkey's arm is tied down, the monkey learns how to control the robot arm using an entirely different set of neural signals. The mutability of neural code means even though chips one day might help restore memory to stroke patients or learn taekwondo instantly, in true Matrix style, but there is no way they will be able to identify the memory of your grandmother in a particular series of neural impulses.

Do we jump from here to cyborg implants on humans or maybe an artificial intelligence? The answer to both is still very much uncertain. Consider that the organisms in Avida can evolve in ways inconceivable by its creators. Will harmful computer viruses be able evolve like this someday? How can we tell when an evolving piece of software begins `thinking' on its own, when we do not even exactly know how we think ourselves? If scientists and engineers ever succeed in building a truly intelligent machine based on a neural coding scheme similar to ours, we won't able to read its mind either!

I'll sum up with a line about the human mind, which I heard at the end of a National Geographic television program many years ago:

The most powerful thinking entity on this planet is still unable to understand itself.

All the technical content in this post was obtained from the following sources:

• Testing Darwin
• The Myth of Mind Control
• Mind over Machine

Read these excellent articles to know more about the subjects discussed in this post.

Tum

Sulagti zameen par moam ki moorat, Tum.

Ghutan ki raaton main hawa ka jhonka, Tum.

Sookhe hoton par bheegi mitti ki khusboo, Tum.

Ret ki aandhi main meri aankhon ki palken, Tum.

Patjhad ki rahon par patton ki rangat, Tum.

Saagar ki leheron main sahare ka tinka, Tum.

Akeli sharmati parchai ki sangini, Tum.

Jagti ghabrayi neendon ka sapna, Tum.

Dhund ki subah main ugta suraj, Tum.

Sard tanhayee main makhmali odhni, Tum.

Safed kagaz par shayari ki likhayi, Tum.

Dard ke sharbat mai khuskhus ki thandak, Tum.

Behti nadiyon main chamakti dhoop, Tum.

Oonche parbat par umadta badal, Tum.

Mere sanson ke chalne ki manzil, Tum.

Mujhme mai ka aadhaar, Tum.

Tum.

Prisoners

`Let me out!'
Rage's eyes, blood red, with many a tear,
Shackled in chains of Calm,
Behind her, helpless, in the dark corner, lay Fear.

`Liberty is our right too!'
Hate screamed, voice hoarse from repeated appeal,
Rods of Laughter at the prison gates,
Glistened, hard, like fine tempered steel.

`You all will die a horrible death!'
Demented with pain, Revenge avowed,
Love stood on guard outside the cell,
While the cacophonous voices echoed.

`All of you... Hypocrites! Show mercy, please.'
A tiny whimpering child, Avarice,
Courage stiffened the walls again,
Immune to the sirenical cries.

`We will be freed by master Death! Then...'
Rasped Anguish, with malice rife,
The envelop of Delight, cringed,
Relieved that for now atleast, the master was Life.

Guilty as accused

While the princess talks of agnostic love,
And the muse searches for her inspiration,
I contemplate what pizza toppings,
must be added, from inside and above.

And I am cogitating?

Tresses soaked in lacteous honey,
And life doubting it's own origin,
I can think of nothing but getting wet in the rain,
That too on a radiant day - ain't it funny?

And I am indulgent?

The sad child has lost her vengeance again,
A million wrongs cannot do one puny right,
I just wanted to iron out the wrinkles on my pants,
So that the creases do not leave a nonwashable stain.

And I am unjust?

Left, leaving, long gone, back to home,
Rather be her, than be him, poor man,
I only wrote of two elope with twain,
The answer: four; on all roads to Rome.

And I am illogical?

An aubade to endless sleep,
Fighting conversion with a literate rage,
I instead dreamed of my perfect date,
I danced, sang and counted sheep.

And I am ironic?

Pity the crazy soul, who needs reasons to be,
Ever tried a kiss with a pungent flavour?
I put a tape on every bruise I got,
The gum will join 'em up - you'll see.

And I am faithless?

Me, Myself and Mac

Ah! Finally... My order. The Maharaja Mac always makes me wait more than other run of the mill burgers. A combination of two grilled chicken patties with a smoke-flavoured mayonnaise, fresh onions, tomatoes, processed cheddar cheese in a toasted sesame seeded bun - mmmm... heaven in the palm of my hand. I took the tray from the hands of the girl at the counter. `Thank you.' `You are welcome. Have nice meal.' I went back and snuggled into the solitary table at the corner. After rummaging through my bag for some time, I located the novel I was reading. Swami and Friends, by R. K. Narayan. I've read it a hundred times. It just wants to be read a hundred times more. So I opened the book. `Where was I now? Mmmm... Lets see.. Swami was solving that sum about mangoes.' And as the faint smile stole its way in, on the left corner of my lips, I noticed a group of three teenage girls munching away at the nearby table break into a fresh peal of laughter. `Ahem! Not at me. Must be some silly joke of their own.' I wonder if my lips move when I speak with myself. I went back to the book, and not taking my eyes of the book, I groped at the burger. I had just barely caressed the soft bun with tender hands, when:

What do you think you are doing?

I looked up. I don't see anyone. Who said that?

It is me... Look down mister. What do you think you are doing?

I looked down, and staring me in the face was a very indignant looking burger.

Who... are you? What are you? I mean... have I gone crazy?
Where are your manners boy? Hmmph! Boys these days. No good at all.

I looked around. `No one seems to be bothered by this.' I looked back at `Mac.'

Me: Are you angry?
Mac: I say! Its about time you got that.

Me: But... why?
Mac: Why do you think? Where was your attention? I am not to be trifled with.

Me: But I was not... I was only reading the book.
Mac: Then why eat? Do you read while caressing your girlfriend?

Me: I do not...

Mac: I knew it. Food... Boy... your most trusted lady. And you treat me like a second hand tramp.

Me: I meant to say I do not have a girlfriend.
Mac: Now why am I not surprised.

Me: Sheesh! What is you problem? Just let me have a bite. I am starving.
Mac: Me? Have a problem? You don't even know who you are.

Me: You sound like my blog entries now. Did someone plant you here to drive me crazy? Go away, please, ...to the way you were before.
Mac: Clueless! Absolutely clueless! And to think you write poetry sometimes.

Me: What's wrong with my poetry? Anyway why do you care?
Mac: Oh I care. I power your useless brain. I have to care. The kind you pointless, wishy-washy stuff you write... eeeyuck! I'd vomit myself, except that I do not eat.

Me: But people seem to like it. What do you know?
Mac: Which people, pray, are those? Listen to me boy... how many thoughts in your head have you penned down till date.

Me: Not many.
Mac: Why?

Me: It's... it's just that I do not know what to write. The words do not appear before my eyes. My original idea keeps on running away.
Mac: You do not pay enough attention. Big brother gave you such a nice world to live in. What a waste. You do notice half of it. Why, that kid Swami is better than you are.

Me: It will come to me someday... I have faith...
Mac: Hee hee hee... ho hoo ho!

Ever seen a burger roll over with laughter. It was really funny, except when the mayonnaise got splashed all over my shirt. Suddenly:

Mac: Do not throw that word at me. You do not even know what it means.
Me: I do.

Mac: Nah! You are just using it because of the same reason that most people do these days. It is just the ``in'' thing to say. You ignorant brat. Go wallow in your own self pity. You'll not get any compassion from me. If you know... tell me... What does it mean?
Me: It means I believe.

Mac: In what?
Me: in... in... myself?

Mac: Is that a question or is that an answer?
Me: I am just hungry now.

Mac: Do not change the subject.
Me: Ok! So I do not know. Now what!

I could see the lettuce fall out of Mac... while he was snickering at me. The red tomatoes looked mockingly delicious.

Mac: Big brother is worried about you. He knows.
Me: I do not have clue about what you are talking about.

Mac: Learn. You still have a lot to learn. But there is hope for you yet. You are not afraid to learn as such. You are only afraid of what you might learn in the process.
Me: It is not a pleasant thought you know. Being left alone. That is why I lose myself in books.

Mac: You should try to find yourself. Not in books. Well a little bit perhaps. But find more of you in the world around you. And then you will not be scared.
Me: What if I get lost?

Mac: You can always find me. I am food for your thoughts. So you will always find your thoughts. They will guide you. Prevent you from losing your way. Believe in that. That is where you need to have faith.
Me: Oh.. but...

Mac: No more buts. Now close your eyes. And follow your heart.

I closed my eyes. And I saw a sign form out of the reddest ketchup there ever will be. It said, ``E A T.'' The smile was still there on the left corner of my lips. I could hear the three girls laughing.

And as I picked up Mac for a bite, my tongue frolicking among the succulent fillings...

`Why do you think father gave me this sum? Are the mangoes ripe? He did not tell me that. I am sure the answer is hidden somewhere in the ripeness of the mangoes. Ooooh! I hate the unitary method. Don't you too?'

And I saw Swami make the most angry and flummoxed expression he could muster on his innocent face. `First talking burgers. Now talking books?' I looked around. No one seemed to be bothered by this.

One hour

8am. Today morning.

I look out of the window to find that the sky has turned an ashen gray. `Ah! It is going to rain,' I think. As I am in the shower practicing my best Kishore staccato, I hear the sound of water pouring from the heavens. I wonder, `why the heavenly showers make a different sound than my bathroom one?' As I get dressed and ready to leave for college, the rain pours steady, making a quiet humming noise running through strands of air.

I have to drop dad at the nearby dispensary. He has an appointment with the medical specialist. I check out the rain again. `Wonder if I was the earth and the rain was my fiancee, how would I feel when it fell on me? But why be affianced to someone ephemeral.' I look down, `How wet is the car? Oh I hope the rain stops - the wipers are not working.'

By the time I go down, the rain is no longer falling. `Falling? Why does the rain fall? I mean why fall? Why not float down? Or just appear maybe?' I take out the rag lying at the back of the car to dry the windshield and as I am looking around everywhere except towards the wet windows of my car I see a man walking with an open umbrella. `Surely it is not raining... does he not realize that... should I tell him? Maybe it is still raining wherever he is now.' Dad comes down in the meantime, and I start the car up.

The window is half open, the tar on the road is wet and the sound of blaring horns is trying to scare the wetness out of the air. `Why does the wet road look softer? Will it hurt less if I fall on a wet road?' Red lights, green lights, bullying busses, the ominous police van behind me, unsteady auto-rickshaws and puddles of water. The small child who begs at the traffic crossing, sporting a wide grin hops in front of my car. `She seems happy today.' I drop dad at the dispensary, and the moment he steps out `... Jaane woh kaise log the jinke, pyar ko pyar mila...' `Hemant Kumar. Why this song? I am feeling happy I guess. Is this song happy? I'll ask it the next time I meet it.'

Main gate of the college. `The roads have dried up so soon. Oh.. no!' I park the car. `The sun is out.' I see a streak of sunlight kissing wet muddy cheeks. `Or maybe he is angry with her. He thinks she has been cheating? Why didn't she run away with the rain?'

I walk towards my room. I step into the concrete corridor. Bricks, wires, people, computers, lectures. `I am late for my meeting with the professor.'

`Bye and welcome. Till next time.'

Today morning. 9am.

Chaos

After the response to my last pseudo-scientific post, Incomplete, I've decided to try my hand at another one. This one though, covers not a theorem, but a whole science in itself. Again I'd ask anyone reading this to hold on and read through the whole thing. You'll never think the same way about the world again...

The story begins in the year 1961 at MIT, Massachusetts, USA. Meteorologist Edward Lorentz was simulating global weather on his primitive computer. He had boiled weather down to the barest skeleton, to a set of few equations. The output was in the form of a string of numbers, merrily spewing out from a printer. If you knew how to read the printouts you could see westerly winds changing course, cyclones erupting and dying down, temperatures and pressures playing see-saw in
the atmosphere. One day Lorentz, wanting to examine a particular sequence in greater detail, decided to start his simulation midway through. He bootstrapped his simulation using numbers from one of his earlier printouts. He had expected the simulation to start and proceed from the point, from where he had taken the numbers he input and take the already pre-determined course. But on returning from his coffee break he found what was to be the birth of a new science.

His current simulation did not resemble the older one in any way. It had diverged at some point, and gone on diverging more and more after that. Even though he had initialized it with the same input values. Soon he realized that while his program maintained numbers up to six places of decimal (for e.g., 1.264067), the printout showed them rounded off to three place (i.e., 1.264). The only difference had been that he had used that rounded off value to initialize his toy weather. The result - where it was snowing earlier, it was now a scorching summer.

This came to be known as the Butterfly Effect which implies something like "If a butterfly flaps its wings in New York, the air currents change such that it will rain next Tuesday in Beijing."

And from this emerged the fascinating science of Chaos.

Risking a little bit scientific imprecision, let me try explain what is it all about. Determinism is the philosophical belief that every event or action is the inevitable result of preceding events and actions. Thus, in principle at least, every event or action can be completely predicted in advance, or in retrospect. Translated into laws governing the physical world it means, that given accurate measurements of the world around us, we can predict the state of the world at any point in the future. Now let us throw the monkey wrench into the machinery - No real measurement can be infinitely precise. All physical systems need measurements to start with. And hence long-term predictions about the state of these systems are nothing but mere guesses. This science of the unpredictable is called Chaos Theory.

So what? Why should you care with some arcane set of physical laws not doing something they were supposed to do? Chaos permeates our universe. Some examples: It has been found in systems describing wildlife and human population patterns, stock prices, shapes of clouds, paths of lightning bolts, intertwining of blood vessels, physiological models of the human heart, galactic clustering of stars, evolution. And it means you will never get an accurate weather prediction beyond 3 or 4 days.

But Nature is not chaotic - everywhere in Nature we see order and patterns. Where does this order come from, when there is chaos everywhere? But Chaos does not rule out patterns: Since our world is classified as a dynamical, complex system, our lives, our weather, and our experiences will never repeat; however, they should form patterns. They do and in precise terms it is called the concept of self similartiy and self similar patterns are called fractals. It is like this: never in history have two events been exactly the same, but as everyone knows history repeats itself.

For a most wonderful introduction to this subject I would suggest: "Chaos: The Amazing Science of the Unpredictable" by James Gleick.

I have an uncanny feeling that it has some metaphysical implications as well, like understanding the human mind and thought. Just think in terms of the assumptions we make daily about ourselves and others and our world, and the actions we take, and consequently the future we build for ourselves and others. But I'll not venture there. I'll leave you with this quote from William Blake:


"To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour"



References:

• Chaos: The Amazing Science of the Unpredictable by James Gleick.
• An Introduction to Chaos Theory and Fractal Geometry
• What is Chaos?

Encounters of the Bovine Kind

I step down the staircase, hurried in my time warp,
And behold in the stairwell, Her majesty,
Ruminating the secrets of the universe,
Looks up at me with eyes overflowing with kindness.

With not a inch of free space to pass,
I pole-vault my way over her towering presence,
And almost faint on top of her,
Her perfumed aura overwhelming my olfactory senses.

I somehow get out, into my car, and drive away,
Only to find in the middle of the road,
His majesty taking a stroll, absolutely nonchalant,
To the blaring horns and ruckus he's left behind.

As I screech to a halt, and crane my neck out of the window,
He turns his head back, to gaze upon his insolent subjects,
While some puny bikers slip by,
Just avoiding a trip and a fall over his tail.

When he reaches his breakfast patch,
He parts the flow with his divine horns, and moves aside,
I drive on, into the humdrum of my daily life,
Wondering, how sacrilegious is it, to be considered sacred?

Reasons for Being

Romantic reason	:	I love therefore I am
Philosophical reason	:	I think therefore I am
Culinary reason	:	I eat therefore I am
Artistic reason	:	I draw therefore I am
Nerdy reason	:	I program therefore I am
Sleepy reason	:	I dream therefore I am
Literary reason	:	I write therefore I am
Working reason	:	I animate therefore I am
Surfing reason	:	I blog - hop therefore I am
Prosaic reason	:	I exist therefore I am
Poetic reason	:	I am alive therefore I am
Narcissistic reason	:	I am therefore I am

What am I?

Err ... that is not a valid question.

How can I prove anything ?

A little child of three or four
With a freckled face and curly locks
Looked up at me with a toothy grin
She seemed like a brook tripping on the rocks

Barely standing, she asked of me
"Are you sure the sky is blue ?"
"Ofcourse! What a question!" I said
I will just now prove it to you

"Just look up and see", and I saw at twilight hour
The sky turning golden, red and pink all at once
"Which of these is blue ?," she asked
I stood there, mute, feeling like a dunce

She stared at me, with a innocent look
"Tell me no ... Is it that hue ?"
I saw the world, mirrored in her eyes
"You know it all already, how can I prove anything to you ?"

The Paper and the Wind

Standing on the simmering tar,
Baking in the heat reflected of dreary concrete,
I looked up and saw,
A white paper page descending from the heavens.

It floated, rising and falling, billowing in the wind,
I turned my head away, away from the relentless gleam of the noon sun,
The paper fluttered, playing with the currents of air,
Flirting with the rising passions of the ardent draft.

Then a fierce gust rose,
Swatting the paper with all its might,
The paper merely bent, and mocked, and laughed,
Rolling away, always on top, always falling in delight.

The dusty waft gave in, defeated,
Ever so lightly, it touched the brick,
Caressing the mud crusted sidewalk,
And then lay stagnant.

When I bent and tried to touch the page,
It eloped with the newborn wind,
Leaving me with a fistful of heat,
Staring at the frolicking lovers' dare.

Swades Hangover

I saw Swades. It was a good movie. I've been restless since. I do not know why? I remembered something I had read in Vivekananda's works once. I found it in an essay titled "Modern India." He says:


Thou brave one, be bold, take courage, be proud that thou art an Indian, and proudly proclaim, "I am an Indian, every Indian is my brother." Say, "The ignorant Indian, the poor and destitute Indian, the Brahmin Indian, the Pariah Indian, is my brother." Thou, too, clad with but a rag round thy loins proudly proclaim at the top of thy voice: "The Indian is my brother, the Indian is my life, India's gods and goddesses are my God. India's society is the cradle of my infancy, the pleasure - garden of my youth, the sacred heaven, the Varanasi of my old age." Say, brother; "The soil of India is my highest heaven, the good of India is my good," and repeat and pray day and night, "O Thou Lord of Gauri, O Thou Mother of the Universe, vouchsafe manliness unto me! O Thou Mother of Strength, take away my weakness, take away my unmanliness, and make me a Man!"^*


I do not know my land. I do not know myself.

How can I hope to know the world, and her people?

I am still restless ...


^*  If you have not read his works, I am requesting that you think before you comment on his sayings. However, no such requests before you comment on the post per se.

Incomplete

I've been pondering for some time as to whether I should write about "this" or not. Today concluded I should do it anyway.

If you are reading this post, I'd like to suggest that though it might get a tad confusing for a moment, but read it fully ... If you understand this one, then ...; you'll see ... Just read on.


The "this" I was referring to is something called the incompleteness theorem.

Kurt Gödel, in his famous paper "On Formally Undecidable Propositions" proved this celebrated and oft misunderstood theorem.

Consider this:

1. Someone introduces Gödel to a UTM, a machine that is supposed to be a Universal Truth Machine, capable of correctly answering any question at all.
   
   
2. Gödel asks for the program and the circuit design of the UTM. The program may be complicated, but it can only be finitely long. Call the program P(UTM) for Program of the Universal Truth Machine.
   (If the concept of a computer program or a circuit seem alien terms just think of P(UTM) as a (formal) description of the UTM and its workings in words or symbols)
   
   
3. Smiling a little, Gödel writes out the following sentence: "The machine constructed on the basis of the program P(UTM) will never say that this sentence is true." Call this sentence G for Gödel. Note that G is equivalent to: "UTM will never say G is true."
   
   
4. Now Gödel laughs his high laugh and asks UTM whether G is true or not.
   
   
5. If UTM says G is true, then "UTM will never say G is true" is false. If "UTM will never say G is true" is false, then G is false (since G = "UTM will never say G is true"). So if UTM says G is true, then G is in fact false, and UTM has made a false statement. So UTM will never say that G is true, since UTM makes only true statements.
   
   
6. We have established that UTM will never say G is true. So "UTM will never say G is true" is in fact a true statement. So G is true (since G = "UTM will never say G is true").
   
   
7. "I know a truth that UTM can never utter," Gödel says. "I know that G is true. UTM is not truly universal."
   

The logic in the embodied in the above lines is simple. But the more you think about it, the more it grows on you. Stated very very loosely the theorem implies (The prof. who taught me the formal logic course would probably flip if he saw this one):


All logical systems of any complexity are, by definition, incomplete; each of them contains, at any given time, more true statements than it can possibly prove according to its own defining set of rules.



Although this theorem can be stated and proved in a rigorously mathematical way, what it seems to say is that rational thought can never penetrate to the final ultimate truth. But, paradoxically, to understand Gödel's proof is to find a sort of liberation.

The metaphorical analogue to Gödel's Theorem suggests that ultimately, we cannot understand our own mind/brains ... Just as we cannot see our faces with our own eyes, is it not inconceivable to expect that we cannot mirror our complete mental structures in the symbols which
carry them out?

Gödel's Theorem has been used to argue that a computer can never be as smart as a human being because the extent of its knowledge is limited by a fixed set of axioms, whereas people can discover unexpected truths.

Fantastic, is it not ? I stumbled across this theorem about a year back when doing a course called the Theory of Computation. It is a masterpiece of formal logic. Imagine the fields of study and thought it cuts across.

For those whose curiosity I piqued by this post I suggest you read this fascinating, Pulitzer prize-winning book by Douglas Hofstadter "Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid". You'll find that mathematics, art and music are not so different from each other. They are all reflections of the most beautiful of nature's creation: the human mind. Hofstadter explains the book is about "the word I. Consciousness. It was about how thinking emerges from well-hidden mechanisms, way down, that we hardly understand."


Sources I used to research this article:

• Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem
  
• Wikipedia Entry on the Incompleteness Theorem
  

"We regret to inform you that ...."

Ah ... those words ... those hateful words! They typically adorn the
first line of the many rejection letters I've seen so far.

What is it about a rejection that makes it feel that the people
rejecting you, are doing it on purpose. It feels they have this very
personal dislike of me. "Why me ?" - its that unanswered question
which pops up like the jack in the box every time I read one of those.

And I got another one today morning (BIG SIGH !!). Did that feel bad -
you bet it did. It also made me think back to few days in the past,
when a dinner offer I made to a dear friend got rejected too. How was
that rejection different from this one? Did that one make me feel
... ummm .. more rejected? I can't believe I wrote this !

Damn, damn, ... damn, damn! (You always gotta say ``damn'' four times,
twice quickly, pause, and then twice again. Unless ofcourse you want
to say it only once.)


``We put our hands over our eyes and weep that it is dark."

Of Eeyore and Donkey

Here is an authentic chronicle of the words that got exchanged, between
Eeyore (from Winnie the Pooh) and Donkey (from Shrek), when
they met recently.

Donkey on the return from the Kingdom of Far Far Away decided to
take a detour and visit his friend of yesteryears Eeyore in the 100
Aker Woods. He finds Eeyore at his gloomy best ...

D: Hey Eeeyoreee ... how ya doing buddy, and how is your tail doing ?
I've been having the most smashing adventures with Shrek .... you
remember Shrek - you remember Shrek? That big fat ugly ogre who is
like an onion. That's the layered intellectual interpretation. He
really is like a cupcake, I just looove cupcakes ! And then ....

Eeyore looks at Donkey, his wide droopy eyes trying to make sense of
all he sees.

E: Adventure? Oh I see ... an Expotition ... Have you seen my tail?

D: Lost it again, did you? Let me tell you a secret ... there are
these guys at a place called HP labs ... I gave them a proper piece
of my mind when my mane suddenly disappeared one day. And they grew
it back! Maybe you could ask them to fix it. Fix it with gum this
time.

E: Oh, well. Someone must have taken it. How Like Them.

D: (Thoughtfully) That's deep Eeyore ... that's really deep ...

Eeyore was thinking "Why?", and then "Wherefore" and sometime later he
thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and then he didn't quite know what he
was thinking about. He stood by the side of the stream and looked at
himself in the water.

E: Pathetic, That's what it is. Pathetic.

He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed
across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at
himself in the water again.

E: As I thought, No better from this side.

D: Chin up - Noble steed! We will find it, after all if one can find a
princess and a puss in boots and a dragon (Oh I miss her), one can
find a tail ! I am the official sidekick .. guy .. here .. I say we
will find it! You got that I don't care what nobody thinks of me
thing ... I like that .. I respect that and so I'll help you.

I know .. it will be in the highest room, in the tallest tower.

You hang on Eeyore ... I'll handle the tail ... Oh I'll find that
tail .. I'll whip its butt too .. It won't know which way to go !

E: Good night, Donkey. If it is a good night. Which I doubt.

And as Eeyore turned to get into his house at Pooh Corner, there was
his tail ... hanging from his back. Its was curled up in a tight bun
.. so that Eeyore could not see it. Donkey sees the tail ...

D: You know what I think ... I think this whole tail thing is to keep
somebody out. Are you hiding something? Aaaw its not another of
those onion things. Why dont you want to talk about it? Why are you
blocking? Who are you tryin to keep out Eeyore, just tell me, who?

E: Oh, well, Thanks for noticin' it.

D: You cant do this to me Eeyore .. I am too young to be sad, ..and worried (sniff) !

E: We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it.

D: Can't all what?

E: Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.

D: I think I need a hug.

E: Don't blame me if it starts raining now.



Apologies to A. A. Milne, Disney, William Steig and DreamWorks SKG.
All copyrights rest with their legal owners.

Finding Doubt

I thought I had always been and will be a rational thinker. I was open to suggestions and ideas and that elusive other point of view, always eager to get the other perspective as well. I thought I was a sensistive guy, with a taste for the subtle and the sublime. I used to think I understood something of colour, space, light and composition - be it in writing, arts, cinema or in physics, mathematics, biology. I was the king of my castle, safely tucked away in the fortress of my imagination well cordoned off by a moat of calmness and satisfaction.

But then came a movie called Black, and I saw the movie. As with everything I had my opinion about it. Only this time it was different from a vast majority of other people. I tried to voice it, and I did not even get a patient hearing most of the time. What I got was this:

"You're crazy", "You're insensitive", "You've no sense, no understanding of art or of acting", "Its such a great movie, out of this world - you are just being cynical about the whole thing", "Look around you, Hindi movies these days are such a pile of junk - this on is a diamond in the rocks", "Who are you to judge Amitabh and Rani, and Sanjay Leela Bhansali - you are an idiot", "You are wrong", "You are dead."

I thought damn them - they just do not want to listen to what I have to say. I went back and researched my material, trying to find a basis for how I felt, trying to materialize my intuition. I even decided at one point I'll write it in a blog entry. And unknown to me, amidst all these fervent discussions and searches - it crept back into some recess of my being. Doubt - doubt that perhaps I was wrong, perhaps I was mistaken, perhaps I was being irrational about it all, perhaps I did not understand anything at all.

And that frightened me, it did. Suddenly my castle was a house of cards which blew over with a gust of strong wind.


I was reading my old art (as in painting) notes today. I wrote them when I was in class 8th or 9th. And I found in those old pages something which I had forgotten - an innocent curiosity to explore and understand. And that nagging doubt which appeared dark and devilish, became bright and haloed. I remembered it is ok to not know, to not understand, to not sense, to say as I feel, to ask why, to be confused and chaotic. Doubt and chaos are a way of nature, a way of growth, a way of life.

I am smiling now, and the second law of thermodynamics flashes through my mind, "All (physical and chemical) processes involve an increase in entropy in the system and its surroundings" - so there; I do know my high school physics.

Thank you Black. Thank you for finding my doubt for me.

Hoshwalon ko khabar kya

A Jagjit Singh ghazal ...


Hoshwalon ko khabar kya bekhudi kya cheez hai,
Ishq keejiye phir samajhiye zindagi kya cheez hai.

Unse nazre kyaa mili roshan fizaye ho gayi,
Aaj jaana pyar ki jadoogari kya cheez hai,
Ishq keejiye phir samajhiye zindagi kya cheez hai.

Khulti zulfon ne sikhayee mausamo ko shayari,
Jhukti aankhon ne bataya maikashi kya cheez hai,
Ishq keejiye phir samajhiye zindagi kya cheez hai.

Ham labon se keh na paye unse haale dil kabhi,
Aur woh samjhe nahi ye khamoshi kya cheez hai.
Ishq keejiye phir samajhiye, zindagi kya cheez hai.

Hoshwalon ko khabar kya bekhudi kya cheez hai,
Ishq keejiye phir samajhiye zindagi kya cheez hai.

Alive today

Feeling happy, sad, idiotic, logical, flummoxed, focused, satisfied, restless, scared, valiant, poetic, morose, spiritual, mundane, mortal, divine .....

Manifestations of a mortal life

Shrouded in lovelorn nights,
Hearts set aflutter with desire,
As moths drawn to the burning lights,
Rekindled embers of a forgotten ire.

Glasses of scorned amour,
Show the stony soul of an angelic form,
Laughther effusing from the bewitched lure,
Mocking despondent passions bygone.

Black velvet skies part for golden hues,
Phantom dreams melt into earthen moulds,
Perhaps rejuvenated by a virginal muse,
Manifestations of a mortal life, behold.

Strange meetings

I have had this thought buzzing in my head since morning. What is it
like to meet (as in for a coffee) a complete stranger? What does one
do, how does one act when confronted with the rendezvous?

When I meet a person known to me already I have an opinion about the
opinion the person has of me. Do I try to mould myself to conform or
force myself to deviate? How many people I really know with whom I am
myself? Do I actually know how to be myself? Now I am definitely
feeling befuddled and bemused ...

Any strangers volunteering to help alleviate my doubts?