Thursday 16 October 2014

The Birth of the Universe

Humans, you have searched for the answer to your existence from time immemorial. You have made many fantastic tales, mythologies and fables in a desperate attempt to make sense of what is a sometimes unfathomable and chaotic cosmos. To the uninitiated mind, indeed it looks a complete mess. However, of late, some of you have evolved mentally to the point where you have begun to perceive the patterns, the symmetry in my creation.

The argument over whether I exist or not still rages fierce all over the world. It has cost so many lives, destroyed so much knowledge. So much unnecessary carnage. And from a race such as yours too, that possessed such unlimited potential.  And to think that all this while the answer was right in front  of you. Like the answers to the best riddles, the answer to this one too, is the simplest. So simple that it never occured to you.

You assumed a universe that you took millenia to even begin to understand, must have begun from something equally complex, if not more. However, there you are making a huge assumption,  and in science, assumptions are criminal.

The demonstration of the falsity of this assumption is you yourself. When life began, you were an organic molecule. You were a dna that began replicating itself on a molecular level. And look at you now. Much is said about the near impossibility of the evolutionary creation of something as perfect as the human eye.However, what you fail to understand is that, given enough time, perfection is easily attained.

It took four billion years for a single cell organism to progress to the wide diversity of life you witness today, including your own species. Four billion years rolls off the tongue easily, but have you ever paused to actually consider the magnitude of time it indicates?

So, coming back to my original point, if in four billion years, a cell can multiply into all the forms of living existence that you have witnessed or will do so in future, is it so hard to imagine a similarly simple beginning for the universe? The universe is roughly 14 billion years old. That is a long time to multiply and diversify even from the humblest origin.

But where, you ask, is the answer to the riddle of my existence?  If I claim to be creator, where am I now? Why, you ask in outrage, do I turn a blind eye to all the horrors that are perpetrated on earth? Where is god and why does he not show himself?

The answer to this, and the implications of it as a consequence,  force me to term this turn of events as tragic. One man amongst you even stumbled upon the answer,  but I do not think even he knew what he meant exactly when he said it.

God is dead.

Not in a metaphorical way, not killed by the evil of man or loss of faith or any such triviality. Simply dead. God's immortality is the first and most terrible lie, and the one with most far reaching consequences. For it is this lie that necessitated the fabrication of all the other lies.

If I was immortal,  then there needed to be an explanation for my inaction in the face of worldwide despair. If I was immortal, then there had to be a grander plan I had in mind that justified what was happening to this world. All the fanciful embellishments that religions and scriptures endowed upon me stemmed from this one lie. This is the actual Original Sin. This is what really caused the fall of man. This is what will eventually be your bane.

I am mortal. I am just as mortal as you, as every other life form, and even as every inanimate object. Stars shine and then destruct. Planets form and then destruct. Entire galaxies thrive and then capsize. And all that once lived, dies. Are you so blind to the cosmic cycle? Can you not see that everything has a beginning and an end and only differs in the comparative duration of its lifetime? Why did you feel the need to exempt me from this rule? Does a creator have to live as long as its creation? Is the Mona Lisa not still revered though Da Vinci has long since ceased to exist? Do we not still marvel at Nietzsche's profundity though his body lies decomposing in the earth? Is there not a parallel almost everywhere you look?

Nay, but you have not seen the true parallel yet. You make a mistake in my role. You assign me the role of a mother with regards to my creation. But I, in fact, am the father.

Allow me to elaborate.

In your species, what role does the father play in the creation of the child? Almost none except the initial spark. The big bang, as it were. The injection of sperm. He provides the spark and then he leaves. His job is done. After that, the mother, the receptacle, assumes the responsibility of creation. She holds in her womb the raw material that will in nine months time reveal itself a full fledged human being. She feeds it from her own body, shelters it under her own skin, fueled by her own heartbeat.

There is no more accurate or apt analogy in all of existence.

In the cosmic scale, I am the father. Nature is the mother. I was what you scientists call "the first cause". The big bang. That was me. That was the injection. As soon as that was done, my role was over. After that, nature took over completely. Nature guided you through the eternities of space and time, separating, fusing, colliding, exploding, condensing,  evaporating. All of the apparent chaos was in fact a carefully thought out plan. Nature fostered exactly the conditions you would need to thrive. And you are not the only ones who have. Countless planets share your fate.

However, returning to the analogy of us as parents, I as a father, provided all the material you would require to exist and survive. Nature, as a mother, more tender in her love and so also more volatile in her anger, gave you instinct. Your greatest weapon. The ability to retain and pass on information through genes. She did that,  and much more. You really had no choice but to thrive. She made sure of that.

You came close to the truth many times, none more so than when you named her Mother Nature. She is your mother indeed, but a parent can do only so much.

A parent's task is this: To provide a healthy and rich environment for the child to grow in. To equip the child with all the tools and knowledge required to survive and thrive.  And finally, to ensure that the child is eventually strong enough to live independently,  on its own merit, and repeat the process of reproduction and upbringing and take the species forward.

 This is the parental criteria demanded almost universally.  And we have fulfilled all of these. If, in spite of all the best and quite frankly admirable efforts of the parent, the child still turns out rotten to its core, the parent must not be blamed though it is done commonly enough. We gave you everything you needed to become an almighty race. Sustainable for billions of years, not mere millenia. But you turned around and spat in its face. You spurned every lifeline thrown your way. And O! Irony of ironies, you did it in my name.

Lies! Calumny! Blasphemy! What blame lies with us? Us who gave you everything and more. Nay, turn your finger inwards, human, the blame lies with you. I, your father, have long since perished. Like you, like the universe, like everything, I too had an end. I could not intervene when you spread lies about me. I could not show you where this path of falsity led. I could not stop you when you turned on each other. I was not there for the proverbial Kane and Abel murder. I was not even there when the first homo sapiens wandered on the earth's surface. I was long since gone. A father who hoped he had done enough to secure for his child a bright future.

How miserably I have failed. And you call me omnipotent. HAH! There is no joke crueler than this.

This, humans, is the truth of the universe. It is useless to me. I am dead now. Do with it what you will.

Tuesday 7 October 2014

Oedipus was from Stockholm

Introductory notes

Oedipus complex: According to Sigmund Freud, every child (in this case I deal with only the male child) posesses an innate complex because of which the child feels sexually attracted to his mother. The mind, in most cases, succeeds in repressing it and later dealing with it in other ways (identification and emulation of paternal traits), however,  in the primary stages, it is nevertheless manifest.

Stockholm syndrome: Also known as trauma bonding, stockholm syndrome is a psychological phenomena which causes the victim of a hostage situation to express empathy, sympathy, positive feelings or even love towards one's captor. There are other causes or cases, too, but this particular type is of relevance.

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Now, then, the Oedipus complex is innate in all of us. If so, whence does it come? I believe the answer has today been unlocked. And here, free of charge, it shall be revealed to you in the name of science. Imagine yourself waking up suddenly in a prison. You dont remember anything before this, this prison is all you know.

All around you loud noises, white noise they call it in the world outside. But you know no fancy lingo, you know no lingo at all. You cannot speak, comprehend, or indeed form any coherent thoughts. All you see is red walls, moving, pulsing, throbbing.  Sounds that should scare you, but instead they soothe you. Weirdly, you feel one with them. As if your very existence had been initiated right here, attached by the navel to this strange contraption. It is all very comfortable and nice. But you want more. You are human, you want your freedom.

You kick out. No cigar. The fortress is so impenetrable,  they didn't feel the need to leave guards. You rest, once in a while kicking out in frustration,  but otherwise silent. You brood in anger. This is kidnapping. This is solitary confinement. Are you to endure this forever? What fate worse than this? Thus are your thoughts in the beginning.

 But gradually, unnoticeably, a change begins to occur within you. You begin to identify yourself with the prison. You begin to understand it. A primal sort of understanding that you yourself cannot understand. But you understand this much, you love it. Whatever this entity is, whatever its reasons for keeping you in captivity, all that is irrelevant. You love your captor. Not just any old love either. One of longing. Not platonic, quite the opposite. You thirst for it, and while it is around you, you are in heaven. Bliss knows no bounds. Such pleasures are only sung about in dreamy songs by dreamier poets. (Stockholm syndrome)

But whats this,  your own private pool begins to drain. Your whole world thrown into turmoil. You begin to feel the walls contract around you. You are being evicted!  The fall of man all over again. Paradise was yours and now it is yours no longer. But this time the fault was not yours. You did not eat of the forbidden tree. Who then, was punishing you, and for what?

 Life was punishing you. And life never needs a reason to.

Suddenly you find yourself in a hideously brightly lit world. You hear shrieks of all pitches. You cannot understand what is happening. All you want is to go back. Back to paradise. The creature, clad all in white, strikes you sharply. Such pain you have never known before. You cry out in anguish. Anguish of the physical pain mingled with your grief at being forced from your former place into this horrid existence.  Despair threatens to rend your vocal chords from your throat. Amongst all this chaos, you hear a sweet voice ring out. Sweeter than any melody you will ever know. You feel two arms welcome you within their grasp. They are not brutal on you, like the man in white. They are soft, gentle, tender. Such care you recognize immediately.  It is her. Your captor. All your feelings of love, lust, passion, rush forth until you are drained. Drained of all energy. You fall asleep to her singing, lilting tone, clinging to her for dear life. She is all you will ever love. (Oedipus complex)

When you grow up, you will hide it. It is considered shameful. Taboo. You will suppress it. People will give it funny names, oedipus complex they will call it. They'll scoff at it. Call it disgusting, disturbing, gross even. But each of them have felt it too. It resides in every one. Oedipus complex borne out of stockholm syndrome.

Abnormal, say they?

If she be not fair for me
What care I how fair she be?

Wednesday 1 October 2014

Off The Brink

The call has ended, the words are said
I stand dumbfounded, my world collapses
My heart aflutter, my tears run red
In contemplation,  eternity elapses

Maternal love and Divine belief
Destroys all pleasure before my eyes
The soul thus burdened, seeking relief
Knows no other recourse, it cries

The abyss open armed invites
It sets no conditions on its love
It promises no lofty flights
No hell below, nor heaven above

Fate too, throws her hat in the ring
Serenading the beauty of my crime
As I hesitate, I hear her sing
"This could be the last time"

A step forward, and I'm on the edge
Adrenaline races through my veins
Death, as is Its privilege
Dismisses me, and takes the reins

Just as I reach out to greet
Oblivion, Death bids me, "Think,
Are not you succumbing to defeat
By accompanying me off this brink?"

Wisdom, through chaos, shines forth at last
Sweet wisdom, where had you gone?
I step back inside, the moment has passed
A broken man, yes, but I live on