Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Standing up for Steve Jobs

Mr. Steve Jobs died 3 weeks back. There was over flooding of condolences on social networking sites as well as widespread media coverage on Steve Jobs ‘life’. Whatever might be the motives, I was happy that the society is still just enough to recognize the greatness of an individual and do the very least they can do, that is, saying ‘thank you’. That was ‘Being Human, recognizing greatness of fellow human. But in our society definition of ‘Being Human’ is a charitable trust for as vague a category as ‘NGO kids’ run by an equally vague person. I don’t understand what NGO kids means. Probably in altruist definition it means ‘less fortunate’, under-served, ‘the real deserving’ etc etc whatever makes you feel guilty of your achievement till date and itches you to go donate somewhere to get the monkey off your back. Where the money spent goes in the end, no one bothers. To get back to the point, it was just matter of time before people started hating the attention Steve Jobs death was getting and start belittling him. I came across two such posts on Facebook recently. I don’t blame the friends who put up those links supporting it. Centuries and centuries of ‘hard work’ by altruist/socialist brigade has made people to believe that whatever one person achieves is either through ‘luck’ or due to ‘generosity’ of the society in ‘letting’ that person achieve it. I have attached two images which forced me to come out of my hiatus from writing.

The first image is a newspaper clipping where the columnist, due to some unimaginable hatred and jealousy towards achievement has tried to bring Steve Jobs down to the level of the person next door. (Person next door who? No idea. As long as he is someone low-key known only to family and friends and a ‘common’ guy, prone to mistakes.) In his argument, he has used the example of Jonas Edward Salk, inventor of polio vaccine and how by refusing to patent his vaccine he did a noble deed. He has quoted Mr. John Salk arguing “There is no patent. Could you patent the sun?” Here, there is a major philosophical flaw. Sun is something metaphysical, given, part of nature. It is not created by a Human Being. Vaccine on the other hand is a combination of metaphysical and epistemological, a man-made product using what is on offer by nature and applying a high level complexity of brain, by questioning ‘why and what for’ at each stage and forming a product which will go on to become one of the most useful discoveries. That Mr. Jonas Salk refused to patent it is his choice. What makes Mr. Jonas Salk great is his discovery. To make profit of it or not was his prerogative. If he had decided to make profit of it, he had every right to. And so had Steve Jobs. Yes Steve Jobs’ product didn’t save anybody’s life. But is the quality of life with and without his products same? Did he force anybody to buy his products? Columnist argues that he was a ‘profit motivated human’ and refused to do philanthropy and hence is worthless. I want to tell the columnist that the reason we are not in stone age is this group of such ‘profit motivated humans who take the risk to venture on unknown paths.’ Who gives this Columnists or similar altruists/socialists out there any right on Steve Jobs and his organization’s profits? IT IS NOT YOUR MONEY. He and his organization have made the money in true sense of terms, by offering a product which has VALUE. To buy it or not was your choice. Another argument columnist has given is that Steve Jobs ‘only’ did marketing, he was ‘just’ another owner of an organization and compared him with politicians. I was actually left dumbstruck after reading it. I had to read it twice and then had to bang my head on wall beside me to ‘let it in’. How can someone compare a businessman with politicians who are the worst kind of second-handed people one can find? Do people think it is easy being businessman? An inventor who stays in laboratory, no matter how great results he achieves is not bothered about how you buy crockery, vehicles, smart-phone or sandals. He is only interested in his work (which is perhaps the greatest). A businessman on other hand is someone who is willing to bear the risk, gives practical form to the great inventions. If the product fails, it is the businessman who suffers, not the inventor. Was bringing Apple products to people ‘just’ a marketing gimmick and same as the ‘acts’ of politicians? I assume there are not many out there who believe the same. If they do, the society will lead to its natural course into stone age.

I am actually happy if whatever said in the second image is true. No, I don’t shed a tear for millions who die. Yes, it is very unfortunate and disappointing if the numbers quoted on right hand side of image are true. But no person in this world has any ‘duty’ towards anyone. The solution to the problem is an issue in itself and can’t be explained in this post due to constraints. But to summarize it in one line, the more free the business and trading becomes from government interventions, lesser will be the number of such unfortunate deaths. If 100 million are shedding tears for Steve Jobs (I am sure many of those are of crocodile’s) it is a tribute which he deserves.

Just a message to altruists/socialist brigade, one which they must have seen many times on trucks in India, ‘Jalo mat, barabari karo’ (meaning: Don’t be Jealous, try to match (the achievement))

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Of abstractions, stories and practicality

A bunch of frightened and perplexed kids are told stories of Ghosts and God simultaneously, wiping out the concept of rationality in them. Kings and ‘babas’ are born.

Plato puts forward a bromide: ‘this may be true in theory, but not in practice.’ Concept of ‘ethics is subjective’ is born.

Immanuel Kant declares: “It is logical, but logic has got nothing to do with reality.” Compromise becomes the greatest virtue for years to come.

Fair distribution of wealth becomes most popular quote in Marxist lands without bothering to understand source of wealth. A hater of achievement with name Ernesto "Che" Guevara is born.

A small kid is told story of a boastful tree collapsing in a tornado while bending blades of grass surviving. Humility is glorified. The kid grows up and finds sense of life in the lines:
“And how am I to face the odds of man’s bedevilment and God’s?
I, a stranger and afraid in a world I never made.”

Metaphysical vs. man-made argument doesn’t make sense to him.

Great depression calls for war-like scenario and ‘Your life belongs to society’ becomes commonly accepted principle. John maynard Keynes says, “Thus we might aim in practice…at a scheme of direct taxation which allows the intelligence and determination and executive still of the financier, the entrepreneur et hoc genus omne (who are certainly so fond of their craft that their labor could be obtained much cheaper than at present), to be harnessed to the service of the community on reasonable terms of reward.” Reasonable according to whom? By what standards? These questions are never asked… Thus the man saying ‘I work for a Government I despise for ends I think criminal’ is called greatest economist but a certain free market supporter called Ludwig Von Moises is called impractical.

Socialism gains popularity and the productive works of geniuses are put under public good. Socialist ideology of a great country’s first Prime Minister who is ironically amongst the richest people in country almost drives country towards death bed within a span of 40 years.

In an era of unparalleled technological breakthroughs, stories of basket weavers and coolies are used to exemplify human struggle and beg for charity while the struggles and achievements of inventors are taken for granted. It becomes fashionable and glamorous to be associated with social cause.

People suddenly fail to understand if they are witnessing start of a booming economy or are on verge of great depression. How are we to know? They ask. The sky suddenly turns dark. There is a thunderstorm. A philosophical giant called Aristotle seems to be shouting in vain through that thunderstorm and over the centuries: “A is A….. Contradiction’s don’t exist” The shouts fall on deaf ears because: “of what use is abstract philosophy to practical life?”

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Random Walk - VII

Few days had passed since Nakul met Sheetal. He hadn’t tried to reach her or find out about her. At times he had felt irresistible urge to call her. He was surprised because he hadn’t been so impatient since long. Not since the days when he had felt love for Manasi. The occasional thoughts of Manasi had stopped troubling him long ago, but he had been more at ease when the name ‘Manasi’ popped up in his mind since last few days. “Why do you compare Manasi and Sheetal. Don’t tell me you have fallen in love with Sheetal just after one meeting,” he had scolded himself in joyous anger whenever such thought occurred to him. Studying the cause of his emotions was a matter of interest to him. The impatience is the same, the purpose is the same, but the resulting emotions are poles apart, he wondered. And then they say that ‘all are emotions are basic and have same structure.’

It was a pleasant morning. Early spring rain had lashed the city. The air was filled with the smell of earth as it is after first rain. The earth smell which Nakul had loved since childhood, the smell which had power to take him back to the days of innocence, the days, as his mother fondly recalls, when Nakul often troubled his parents with barrage of incessant ‘whys’ on either being asked to do something or told to believe something. The ‘whys’ hadn’t gone away, but now he only trusted himself for the solution. He sat reading newspaper while listening to songs which were 40-50 years old. He had never found the reason why musical preferences of people are so varied and yet often people with similar value sets have same choice of music. The answer to the ‘why’ in his mind right now was clear though. The social activists’ movement for a bill against corruption had brought fruit and they had won against government, at least it was thought so. Nakul had followed news related to it with great interest and for a moment had considered hoping, like all the supporters, that this movement will mark the beginning of the end of corruption in country. But he was not capable to feel it longer than a moment. What is the root of corruption in government? --he wondered. Is it lack of transparency as it is professed or is it government assuming roles it is never supposed to assume and nobody questioning it? The people, who had joined the movement, had joined because of the injustice they had faced at some moment in their life. They, like every common man wanted to see corrupt politicians beaten for once. Then, why don’t they try to understand the true nature of problem than blindly support? He knew that if he would raise these questions, people would ignore them as being ‘cynical, merely philosophical and non-practical.’ Sheetal won’t, he thought. I would have loved to talk about it with Sheetal. Oh- come on- you need fresh air- to put this obsession named Sheetal out of your head, he told himself. Well, the rain has stopped and a motorbike ride doesn’t seem a bad idea in this weather, he said, smiling.

He drove towards countryside. He had always wanted to have a house at countryside, with mountains nearby so that he could climb those mountains whenever he wants—with the anticipation and excitement of reaching the top and once reached, look down from there. The early spring flowers along the roadside seemed to be dancing with joy. The crop fields had youthful exuberance. Spring was season for growing sunflowers, as it was done in that area in abundance, and they, with their beautiful colour seemed to have joined the party. The shades of the sky varied as one watched from the horizon to overhead. Nature, it seemed was in mood to paint itself and if it was then it was artistry of highest order.

As he crossed the mountains he saw steel factories at distance. The view of rising flames was not one bit less spectacular than the sight of nature. What was more heartening was, at some point, a human mind had made this possible. He suddenly recalled the view of cantilever truss of Howrah Bridge which was a great structural achievement and how it had evoked similar emotions when he first saw it. As he moved ahead, there were people sitting in shades created by polythene bags tied together. They were weaving baskets. It was perfect setting for a socialist to blame the industries in the background. “What use are those industries if people are starving to death?” they would ask and project basket weavers as heroes and industrialists as villains. “The poor will never have a chance” they would say. Who gave Dhirubai Ambani a chance? Who gave Jamshetji Tata a chance? He recalled the story of an English commissioner who in 1911, promised to eat the rail if an Indian, Tata would provide steel for it. In 3 years time, Tatas were providing steel to British for world war and rail. The eyes of the basket weavers on roadside were pleading for help. What is the solution to this poverty? Socialists publishing heart-wrenching stories and pleading for help on behalf of poor or a true laissez faire capitalist system, where government’s role would be limited to law & order, police and military and provide vast opportunities to everyone, to rise; each according to his ability. He understood that the implementation of latter is a complex problem and is not possible unless the underlying political philosophy is understood.

There was a sharp turn ahead and road was narrower. As he turned right a speeding truck was just few meters away. He quickly tried to adjust by turning left. There was water on the road and his motorbike skidded rightwards. The momentum carried the bike 20 meters further. He held on to the handle tightly, looking ahead as his right leg was bruising continuously due to the friction with the road. He barely managed to save his head from the line of the truck but the bike collided with a big stone on the roadside. He lost the control and was thrown away with a jerk. His head collided with ground. Many people gathered as blood had started to flow. He was trying desperately to hold on to any remnant of consciousness as he saw helplessness and inaction in eyes of the people around him. As he lost consciousness and closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was a man wearing a cowboy hat and bright purposeful eyes walking towards him.

P.S. Story obviously doesn't end, but the experimentation with fiction writing ends.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Random Walk - VI

link to part 4: here (relevant for part 6)

link to part 5: here

Tarun got elected as president of student council with overwhelming majority. It came as surprise to nobody. Never before in the history of student council had someone won the election with such huge margin. The overall mood in college was jubilant. Everybody from students to guards was happy. It was perfectly possible that had anyone of them been ask the significance of Tarun as president, they would have either struggled or would have read out his agenda. But Tarun had helped everyone at some point or the other and that was good enough reason. Legally or illegally, morally or immorally; it didn’t matter. He was a friend of public and now he had taken first major step to be their representative in true sense.

Tarun’s agenda was very simple. It had no mention of Tarun’s qualities or reasons why he should be elected. Everybody knew about them secretly. It was agenda devoted completely to students’ welfare, grievance redressal and above all: promise to be representative of ‘student voice.’ The agenda talked about the need of college run by student committees. There was proposal of introduction of committees which didn’t exist till now like PR committee, industry-interface committee and social responsibility committee. Social responsibility committee’s role was explained at length and how it would give a platform to the budding selfless volunteers who want to give back to society. The most controversial of proposal was the introduction of committee which would work with college administration and will have a greater role than currently ascribed to student council. This had caused quite a stir and Tarun’s opposing party had complained against him, claiming that Tarun is making frivolous claims and should not be allowed to mislead students. The claim was rejected, stating that the board has passed resolution to allow greater role of students into administrative activities. Sons of two board members were close friends of Tarun. The current admin-student coordinator resigned. The young lady appointed in his place was relatively inexperienced and was popular among students for all the wrong reasons, but she was in good books of chairman of the board who was a widower. There was no need to question purpose of any committee. PR committee was supposed to bring more awareness among general public about various initiatives of college; industry-interface committee was supposed to bring more job opportunities.

Few days before the election, a social activist had instigated a movement in country by proposing his mode of fighting corruption through a bill. The country was in frenzy and people were supporting the social activist without bothering to understand the bill and possible consequences, like illiterate villagers who run towards a quack who tries to cure the effect and ignore qualified doctor who questions cause. Tarun wasted no time in declaring his support towards the movement and held one-day hunger strike in college. His act received huge media attention.

The day Tarun won election, he returned home early, after few mandatory formalities and a small party. He reached his room and stood watching himself in mirror. He recalled how shy he was and how fellow students used to make fun of him in class 5th. He recalled how his trusted friend had walked away with accolades for the science project which they had presented in a competition, a project which was solely the creation of Tarun. He was in class 7th then. He recalled how he had forced his parents to switch him to a school which was supposed to be bastion of ultra-rich. He himself had provided them with connections to talk about and a letter to be presented to principal. He was in class 8th. He was appointed as head-boy of school in class 9th. The events since that day till today had been as per plan, except the relationship with Sheetal. He saw changes in his own expressions in mirror when he thought of Sheetal. This had not gone according to plan. “Why?” he thought, but shrugged next moment and tried to put that thought out of mind; like he had done, during his initial rise- years when he occasionally questioned himself about his end motive when he was alone. He had stopped questioning himself about such irrelevant questions. He recalled the celebrations when he was elected as President today and the view of city as it appeared when he went to the college roof. “This is my platform”, he had thought.

He felt contempt for those who had immediately sought favours from him, explicitly or implicitly. He scolded himself mockingly and uttered his principle of life: “This is not an age to rule people by force but it is age of ruling people by compassion.” The next two years as president of student council is just the beginning I wanted, he thought, as he sat down to draft list of his candidates for various committees.

to be continued...

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Random Walk - V

link to part 4: here

“This coffee house seems quite famous. Does it have some kind of history?” she asked.

“It does, but more importantly coffee houses are often part of beginnings.” He replied, smiling. She smiled in return.

It was his turn to ask- “It was quite unusual of me to ask someone I am meeting first time in bus for a coffee date. I am quite sure it wasn’t usual of you to say yes as well. Why did you say yes?”

“Well I thought that for first time in many years, or first time ever, I am meeting someone genuine & different though a bit weird. But there is also the chance of you ‘acting’ intelligent or different, say just to impress, so wanted to find out that too.”

“Do you think it is possible? ‘Acting’ intelligent or different?”

“No, I don’t”, Sheetal said with a sudden spark in eyes. “But it is possible that I may mistakenly believe so”, her expressions changed while saying this. “Have you ever committed such mistake?” She asked.

“Well, it sounds from the tone of the question that you have, in past” Nakul said with a half mocking smile.

“You think you are too smart, don’t you?”

“I don’t need to think it” he replied with same smile but added with a serious tone, “if it helps you, I did commit such mistake, but there is no point dwelling over it”

“Okay, so what exactly do you do, apart from professing your thoughts to someone crazy enough to listen?”

He told about himself and answered each question patiently, logically. Later he asked her few questions. The questions were very simple & basic but questions of the kind she had wished to hear but hadn’t heard ever. They continued talking, forgetting everything else. Once in a while, they ordered for odd snack item or coffee, each time the waitress came back with the question “anything else?” with anticipation of- “No, cheque please.” They had a good laugh when the waitress returned.

They discussed many topics. She felt astonished at some of his radical thoughts and amazed at his childlike manner of expressing. He, on the other hand was behaving as if he has known her since long and such a discussion with her was natural & inevitable.

She suddenly felt happy & joyous, similar to what she had felt in morning. The events of the morning seemed to have happened weeks ago. But then she recalled what happened in college & it made her uncomfortable. “Am I committing same mistake, anticipating something great, only to regret later?” Her expressions changed.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing. I have to go. Getting late.”

He understood that that was not the reason. “Well, is there going to be another meeting then?”

“Maybe” she said with a chuckle and left, giving her contact number.

Nakul kept staring at her walking figure. He felt a sea of emotions. For once, he didn’t want to find out the reason behind the emotions, they seemed perfectly in place.

to be continued...

Monday, February 28, 2011

Random walk - IV

link to part 3 here

Sheetal reached her college with a feeling of enthusiasm. But her mood dampened a bit on entering. The college was unusually crowded and active. She suddenly remembered that it was student council elections. The next thought was natural for her. Tarun was one of the candidates for the post of president. The odds were heavily in his favour. Tarun was one of her first friends on campus. Now she wished she had never talked with him. But at some odd moment, she recalled time spent with him, she recalled moments when she had thought of him as ideal man, she recalled moments when she started realizing that he was not what she thought he was. She recalled moments when she hated herself for making a bad mistake, desperately hoping that she is mistaken. “Ohh, that is past. I should not be so hard on myself. Everybody commits mistakes. Even in my mistake, I was in love with an ideal vision in mind”, she thought. Love. She suddenly felt as if she skipped a heartbeat. “Yes, I was in love with him. Or was it with the vision I held? How does it matter one way or the other? I just hope he didn’t know it.”

But she knew that he knew. That was evident from the way he looked at her with a smirk every time he saw her after she started avoiding him. Tarun was a poster boy of current generation. He had a huge fan following on the campus. He was tall and had a handsome face. But what attracted everyone towards him were ‘boy-next-door’ expressions and a smile which showed not even a hint of pride but generosity towards others. A smile which indicated, “I understand you. But neither you nor I can help anything.” But he often went out of his way and made sure he helps everyone and is in their good books. He never had a particular end to achieve. All he wanted was power over everyone. “This is not an age to rule people by force but it is age of ruling people by compassion”, he often thought. Once he developed this firm belief, path towards goal became clear. Everybody else was a means towards the unknown end, except Sheetal. He had met her on very first day of college. He had always enjoyed his friendship with her. She was his escape route. No matter what he said while talking with others, he confessed to her what he truly felt. He thought that she loved him and would understand him. He never questioned to himself whether he loved her. He had always taken her for granted. When she started ignoring him he was puzzled. But he didn’t bother to find out reason. By now, he was the most popular person on campus and was touted to achieve big things. If she would have really loved me, she would not have questioned me but would have trusted me, he thought. With every success of his, he held an even more boastful look when he met her. She was totally indifferent. This bothered him even more. Gradually, however, he chose to ignore her. An impractical idealist fool like her will realize her mistake one day. Life is not like how she sees. The world doesn’t run that way, he thought. Impractical--for whom? --- Whose life?--- Which world? These questions didn’t occur to him.

Sheetal watched all the processions blankly. She had some important work to do but it seemed impossible to do it amidst elections. “How come I forgot about the elections? Wouldn’t have bothered coming to college today,” she wondered.

“Hey! This is a surprise. You would be the last person I would expect on campus today” said Tarun. He had spotted her and was genuinely surprised.

“It might sound stupid, but I forgot that it is Election Day,” she replied.

“Haha. That is funny and rude at the same time. Typical of you. “

“I would get going now”

“Your wish. If it matters to you, I am expected to win today with clear majority. Everybody is voting for a change and they say that I am the one to bring about a change. They have faith in me because I have faith in them. It is always mutual”

“Good Luck, Tarun. You need not explain them or yourself to me”

“OK. I too have to go now. Your hatred towards me or my ways is futile. Bye”


Sheetal spotted few of her friends at canteen. But she wanted to get out of the campus right away and started walking back. Perhaps Tarun is right. My hatred is futile, she wondered. Perhaps thinking so much is worthless. I should go back, have a nice time and then vote for the popular person. I can have the popular reason of, ‘it doesn’t matter anyway’. It should be so simple. Why then do I feel exalted when I achieve result after complex thinking process, whatever the nature of problem might be? Why do I feel guilty when I don’t think something through? Do they not feel the same, everyone else? Why do they choose to belittle that which has carried human race forward and glorify all that which is wrong? There you are! Again, thinking of yourself as someone great just because you think. What right you have to judge someone? It is so simple. Adapt yourself to the world. Accept nature to be malevolent and people to be benevolent. You will get along fine with everyone and everything.”

Sheetal reached the bus stop. There was a long queue in anticipation. There was a boy who was staring at tall buildings and trees. Suddenly bus arrived and people started pushing him and cursing him. He had expressions as if somebody has woken him up when he was fast asleep. Sheetal burst out laughing .

That boy was last one to enter the bus. The place next to Sheetal was empty.

“Can I sit here?”

“Your choice. I don’t own this bus or seat” she said smiling, still recalling the funny incident.

He sat down. He had watched her laughing outside. No matter how much dumb he acted, nothing of significance ever escaped his eyes. He had watched her carefully. There was something peculiar, something different about that laughter and those eyes. “She seems different from the rest. The eyes certainly say so.” He thought, going back to that moment. “Maybe I am assuming too much. And how does it matter if she is different. Probably I will never even get a chance to talk.”

“Hello, is something wrong with you?” she asked
“What? Me? Maybe. Don’t know. Why?”

She laughed. “You are making weird faces and mumbling something.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Were you searching for words to speak to me?”

“Uh, what? Who? Me? Maybe.”

“I am Sheetal”

“I am Nakul”

Nice to meet you, Nakul. I couldn’t help but notice you staring at buildings and trees. What was so special?”

“I too couldn’t help but notice your laughter. I was comparing the tree and the birds residing on that tree, a scenario which had been same since ever against journey of human beings from caves to skyscrapers. “

“Ooohh, quite philosophical and I didn't imagine you would notice me laughing! Anyway, do you think thinking in such terms is of any use?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you always talk in terms of ‘maybe’?”

“Well, just because this is first meeting I am acting weird. From next meeting onwards, I would be quite normal”

“Who told you there will be next meeting?”

“Oh, there isn’t? Well, maybe then we can continue this meeting longer. When is your stop?”

“Next one,” she replied.

“Is it? Funny. Mine too. Incidentally there is a nice cafĂ© near that stop,” he said with poker face. Sheetal smiled.

To be continued….

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Random walk - III

Link to part 1: here

link to part 2: here

Note: This part is NOT a sequence of part 2.

The bus suddenly came to screeching halt. Bus conductor was shouting the approaching stop’s name. People were fake laughing and were talking out of compulsion, anxiously waiting for their stop. The discussions were ranging from international politics to their boss’s affair with his secretary. Sheetal was deep in her thoughts when the sudden brakes disrupted everyone. It took her some moments to get hold of the reality, as if she had came back from a different world. She overheard some of the conversations. Most of them were lacking any serious base. She saw couple of boys making passes at girls sitting on adjacent seat. The girls were giggling as if this was a scene from some Bollywood movie. There were few elderly people seating behind her. They started cursing current generation and asserting how the previous generation was ‘cultured.’ No, this is not the world I was thinking of! Sheetal thought.

Sheetal was a thin girl with a face which one can remember forever. The intelligence apparent on her face, combined with brisk, purposeful walking style gave her an elegant look. Her eyes were bright and honest, a trait not often seen but a trait which often tells lot about a person. While describing her looks, people always labeled her with phrases such as ‘cute, but kind of different’. They hesitated in calling her attractive. Her mannerisms didn’t fit in the conventional definition of attractiveness. So for simplicity purpose they labeled her as ‘different’ because it was too much effort bothering if someone is attractive or not. Attractiveness, in the end, was subjective to them, but it never occurred to them that what one finds attractive is result sum of his/her convictions.

To their credit, she was in fact different. For Sheetal, life was a puzzle, a puzzle to be solved by setting up equations and solving them step-by-step to reach the solution. Often solution to one problem contradicted equations of some other problem. It bothered her, but she was happy in the thrill of solving the problems. For once, she wanted to correct all the contradictions but it never seemed to happen. Similar thing had happened when her thought process was disrupted while travelling in the bus. She couldn’t match the utopian world she was dreaming of with what she was seeing. Probably people are right in saying that everyone is different with combination of good and bad in varied proportions, she thought. Perhaps, then, I should work with whatever good I find. Part of her mind was screaming, “How much good is good enough?” She chose to ignore it. She was hoping that somebody someday will prove her wrong but knew that she will fight all she can not to let that happen.

The bus conductor yelled her stop’s name. She stopped thinking and got up eagerly. The boys, who were previously flirting with other girls, kept staring at her smiling radiant face. She gave an amused look to them, not recalling if she had seen them before. It was a new day and potential new excitements and new puzzles awaited her. She started walking out of the bus hoping for a new experience.

to be continued...