I was watching the movie “The Da Vinci Code” yesterday and something in that movie got me transfixed (if I might say so). Ironically it wasn’t the Holy Grail or the blood line of Jesus (I have seen the movie many times over in the past so that wasn’t a surprise.) I was trying to decide whom to side with. On one side we have Sir Robert Langdon, Sophie Neveu Saint-Clair (I hope I got the spelling right) and Sir Leigh Teabing, trying to unravel the secret of the Holy Grail to the world so that people do not live in the clouded realm of pseudo-spirituality that the church was trying to superimpose. And on the other hand were the Priory of Sion and the Church (Bishop Manuel Aringarosa) trying to protect the secret of the churches power on Earth.
The Comparison might seem quite contrary to the story line. As in the movie it is obvious that Robert Langdon and Leigh Teabing were definitely not on the same side and so is the case with the Priory and the Church. Be that as it may, there is a bigger cause that seems to bind and unwind these four and hence has been the reason behind my classification.
This cause is not very difficult to spot either. One group wanted to reveal this secret and the other wanted to conceal it.
The beauty in this reason is that, while the cause of one seems to be just but its consequences are devastating ,where as, the cause of the other cannot be justified but its consequences happen to be a necessity. Confused…??? Let me explain –
Revealing the secret to the world might seem to be the right thing to do, as the people deserve to know the truth behind their religion and the God they worship. On the other hand revealing this secret would send the world we know it today into chaos. If people come to know the divinity of their deity was a cover-up, it would devastate their faith and belief. And a man who has no belief has no hope and there is nothing more dangerous than a man without any hope. If one such person is so dangerous, imagine a whole nation of them (Christianity to this day still remains a religion with the maximum following).
Covering up the whole thing might not be a just way of doing things; but then, it shall help in maintaining the stability and entropy of the system. Wasn’t this the very reason that this lie was made up in the first place, so that people could stop fighting are unite under one banner namely – Christianity(The greatest good, is the good, for the greatest numbers).
It is believed that many have been murdered in order to protect this secret. But was it really worth the lives? Would it have really made a difference if the secret was revealed? It quite hard to answer that question in a definite ‘yes’ or ‘no’ but if we go by the history of human civilization I think it would not have made a difference. Equal number of people would have still died, either due to the fight between the Pegans and the Christians or by the anarchy that this might have caused. I believe it’s in the human nature to fight. It is this trait that was kept us this high in the evolutionary ladder.
So who do u think is justified? It is like a never ending riddle. Like an equation whose conclusions and assumption are the same. No amount of mathematical jugglery can either prove it or disprove it…….After all it’s just another Hollywood movie……or is it ?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Happy By Chance…!!!
The only fact to which both religion and science will concur is that fundamentally we are all the made of the same particles. To be more precise we are all made of nothingness. No wonder we all feel the void in our lives. Be that as it may, I have always wondered and am sure most of you must have also wondered about a very intriguing question. Who the hell are we? Why do we feel the way we feel? If all is the same then why is everything so different? Many a scholar would give an answer saying that it’s all about perspective. But I call that answer as their so called “intellectual escapism”. It’s not about perspective but it has more to do with chance than what we initially perceived.
There are more than a hundred thousand galaxies in this universe (if in fact this is a universe…..I do believe in the concept of multiverse). Each galaxy has billions of stars and each star may have billions of planets. To sum the whole up we can say the number of planets in this universe is itself ten to the power of hundred. Of all these planets, why did life choose to make its mark on Earth? (Let’s assume there is no extraterrestrial life…well till at least we have tangible evidence for the same). Scientist’s have a more philosophical answer to this and that is…..It was just a matter of chance. We are here because there were more that a hundred thousand coincidences that happened simultaneously. Might seem strange but it’s very true. Earth having the right temperature, the right distance from the sun, sun being the right kind of star, Jupiter being the big brother that it is are just a few of the examples. To sum it all up, we are here by chance.
Why do we feel the way we feel? Though our bodies are made of the same chemicals we have different thoughts. Though we live in various conditions we all have the same range of emotions. Every one seems to be so similar that they are totally different. Many people give the credit of this anomaly to the process we call ‘Evolution’. We are what we are because that’s how we evolved. And how did this evolution take place…..just by chance. Again the credit goes to a multitude of coincidences. This seems to be true even in the day to day scenario. A less talented or qualified person gets more recognition than a more deserving candidate just because he was at the right place at the right time. And how was he at the right place at the right time?....just by chance.
What makes people happy? Many (not all) would agree that money would makes one happy. Imagine if Robinson Crusoe would have been a happy man if had a hundred million dollars when we was stranded in an island for 20 yrs instead of a friend. I don’t think so. Money makes one happy only when it has the power to buy. So does power make one happy? Politicians are supposed to be the most powerful people around and the never seem to be happy. That’s why politics is always associated with the word ‘dirty’ and not with the word ‘happy’. So does sex make one happy? Hard to say, porn stars aren’t the happiest bunch around. Does knowledge makes one happy? Nerds aren’t the merry making type either. But yes, a right combination of all the above factors does help a person be happy. And how do those who are happy have this right combination of paraphernalia. ….yup u guessed it right….just by chance.
I do believe in one fact though. If one man can do it so can anyone else. So if you know someone who is really happy, be rest assured that you too can be the same…..its just a matter of chance……so don’t get into that shell of yours at the first sight of danger…..do what u must and leave the rest to Mr. chance and from what I shave seen, he can work miracles. So for once ……just be happy by chance…..
There are more than a hundred thousand galaxies in this universe (if in fact this is a universe…..I do believe in the concept of multiverse). Each galaxy has billions of stars and each star may have billions of planets. To sum the whole up we can say the number of planets in this universe is itself ten to the power of hundred. Of all these planets, why did life choose to make its mark on Earth? (Let’s assume there is no extraterrestrial life…well till at least we have tangible evidence for the same). Scientist’s have a more philosophical answer to this and that is…..It was just a matter of chance. We are here because there were more that a hundred thousand coincidences that happened simultaneously. Might seem strange but it’s very true. Earth having the right temperature, the right distance from the sun, sun being the right kind of star, Jupiter being the big brother that it is are just a few of the examples. To sum it all up, we are here by chance.
Why do we feel the way we feel? Though our bodies are made of the same chemicals we have different thoughts. Though we live in various conditions we all have the same range of emotions. Every one seems to be so similar that they are totally different. Many people give the credit of this anomaly to the process we call ‘Evolution’. We are what we are because that’s how we evolved. And how did this evolution take place…..just by chance. Again the credit goes to a multitude of coincidences. This seems to be true even in the day to day scenario. A less talented or qualified person gets more recognition than a more deserving candidate just because he was at the right place at the right time. And how was he at the right place at the right time?....just by chance.
What makes people happy? Many (not all) would agree that money would makes one happy. Imagine if Robinson Crusoe would have been a happy man if had a hundred million dollars when we was stranded in an island for 20 yrs instead of a friend. I don’t think so. Money makes one happy only when it has the power to buy. So does power make one happy? Politicians are supposed to be the most powerful people around and the never seem to be happy. That’s why politics is always associated with the word ‘dirty’ and not with the word ‘happy’. So does sex make one happy? Hard to say, porn stars aren’t the happiest bunch around. Does knowledge makes one happy? Nerds aren’t the merry making type either. But yes, a right combination of all the above factors does help a person be happy. And how do those who are happy have this right combination of paraphernalia. ….yup u guessed it right….just by chance.
I do believe in one fact though. If one man can do it so can anyone else. So if you know someone who is really happy, be rest assured that you too can be the same…..its just a matter of chance……so don’t get into that shell of yours at the first sight of danger…..do what u must and leave the rest to Mr. chance and from what I shave seen, he can work miracles. So for once ……just be happy by chance…..
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The One day Reporter.....
After seeing the movie “Page 3”, I always thought that crime reporting was a very interesting field, though I never imagined myself; being one of them. But I guess providence had better plans for me. I had gone to Delhi recently for giving a couple of interviews as well as meeting a couple of friends. One of my friends was (and is still) a crime reporter with a national daily there. I just wanted to have a casual meeting with her since I had not met her for a couple of years. Initially I thought we would meet over a cup of coffee and chat for a while and then go our separate ways. Fortunately for me, my interviews got over sooner than expected and so we decided to meet in the morning itself.
We were just getting along with a casual conversation when she had a call regarding a hit and run case. She, being a crime reporter had to leave and I not being one didn’t want her to go. She finally came up with the solution and invited me to come along with her for that day. I, on my part volunteered to be her driver. More importantly I did want to know what and how the crime reporting world works and why did she chose this field as her career.
Basically the day of the crime reporter starts with a phone call, either from the police control room or from a colleague who informs them about a fresh incident. Then comes the running around part where the reporter finds the crime scene, meets the affected and the not so affected people, takes the photographs and creates the draft for the story. This is if the reporter is having a good day. On a normal or a bad day there are multiple crimes at various locations. I believe a reporter uses the ‘traveling salesman algorithm’ in their lives more than anyone else. The have to go to different police stations, different villages and slums and that too all at peak traffic hours to meet all kinds of people right from the commissioner of police to the road side Romeo. Their desk day at the office starts after 7pm when they go to their office, consolidate their stories, prepare the reports and submit it to the editor. After all this running around they would be lucky if their story gets published and luckier if they get the byline (i.e., their name printed at the end of the story).
So we started my first and so far the only day as a crime reporter. I was initially a bit disappointed when we came to know that the hit and run story was not true. But we later came to realize that the location information supplied was incorrect. Just when we thought all was going well (at peak hours in Delhi traffic) we got a call regarding a custodial death of a caddie who was arrested for a chain-snatching incident.
Regular crime stories are not too hard as the cops provide most of the details to the reporters and the reporters just have to do the back-end and field research. A custodial death is a different ball game altogether. Here most often the cops are at fault and hence do not co-operate at all. Not only that they do not co-operate the also try to mislead the reporters.
So now we had two stories to cover, multiple police stations to barge in and out of and that too at different locations in Delhi. My day was getting better and better. The hit and run case was cake walk. We found the bus which was the culprit, the bike which was the victim and the story of their romance from the SHO (station head officer). With the love story securely stored in our cameras we headed for the more sensational of the two cases.
As mentioned earlier this being a custodial death case we were (actually she was) pretty sure the cops would not be of any assistance. We short-listed 3 different police stations from where we planned to drain out the information. I did not have any prior experience dealing with cops and that too when we were to interrogate them and not the vise versa. She decided to train me by showing how it is done in one of the stations. I was astonished to see how well behaved these cops act while dealing with reporters. I was introduced as the assistant reporter. The comfort with which the cops treated us really made me feel at home in a place, whose thought gives nightmares to people. I was introduced to a long list of officers and their subordinates. Some of them even claimed that they knew me and were aware that I had joined the news paper daily very recently, though in reality I haven’t been to Delhi in 15 years and was definitely not a reporter. All we could gather from the half hour discussion there was the name of a village.
We split up for the next round of enquiry as we had to cover 2 police stations and we did not have much time. I dropped her at the first and went on to the second one. Fortunately the SHO was on leave and the person in charge was a lady. I introduced myself as a reporter and as if out of instinct said “hello DiDi aap kaise ho”. As soon as she heard the word “didi” she felt very happy and started an animated but very casual conversation. I had to very careful here because if blew my cover I would be in really deep shit (phew..I feel like a spy already). To my surprise she did not get the slightest clue about me ( this I came to know much later through my friend). Anyways I had to really make up a lot of stuff but all I could find was a name. My friend on the other end had fared much better (of course.. she was a pro..) and she also found some details about this boy.
Our next destination was the village where this guy lived. I was dumb-struck to see that, this village (yup it was an old fashioned village) was located in the heart of the city. We found a couple of street rowdies (the self appointed bhai types..) whom we asked for directions. I was scared to talk to them initially. My friend passed a sarcastic comment that if we had to fight them, she would take on two of them and I just need to find my way through one. Going by her proportions, I knew she could take on two of them with easy. Anyways such a confrontation was not required because these guys fled as soon as used the word “police” while asking direction (..phew…).
Somehow we managed to locate this boy’s house. Almost the whole village was assembled there. We went and introduced ourselves ( actually she did…I was too confused to do anything). As soon as they heard who we were the mother of the boy thought I was the main reporter and she fell to my feet and started crying. I never felt so helpless in my entire life. I did not know what to say to this lady or to anyone assembled there who were staring at us as we were their only ray of hope. I felt ashamed of my helplessness. We asked them a few questions and got the picture of the boy. They all had the same story to tell that their kid was innocent and the cops should be punished and we should help them get justice. As the time we spent with those people grew longer the crowd started becoming hostile. The people started shouting slogans against the police. This was the time my friend told me that we should be leaving as we did not want to be the reason behind a riot.
Since we had both the stories now we went back to a coffee shop. The same shop from where my journey as a reporter began and ended. Though it was a big day for me, my part got over here. Now she had to go to office and convert the drafts to story.
I was to leave Delhi early morning the next day. I was sitting in my berth and reading the newspaper. To my pleasant surprise I found the news story printed in the 2nd page itself. Though my friend got the story printed she did not get the byline. As I was reading the story the scenes from what happened yesterday passed through my mind as a movie and then I thought of the movie ‘Page 3’ and knew how Konkana Sen would have felt on her first day as a crime reporter. All I could think of was that sometimes…..Sometimes Reel life and Real life are not that different………
We were just getting along with a casual conversation when she had a call regarding a hit and run case. She, being a crime reporter had to leave and I not being one didn’t want her to go. She finally came up with the solution and invited me to come along with her for that day. I, on my part volunteered to be her driver. More importantly I did want to know what and how the crime reporting world works and why did she chose this field as her career.
Basically the day of the crime reporter starts with a phone call, either from the police control room or from a colleague who informs them about a fresh incident. Then comes the running around part where the reporter finds the crime scene, meets the affected and the not so affected people, takes the photographs and creates the draft for the story. This is if the reporter is having a good day. On a normal or a bad day there are multiple crimes at various locations. I believe a reporter uses the ‘traveling salesman algorithm’ in their lives more than anyone else. The have to go to different police stations, different villages and slums and that too all at peak traffic hours to meet all kinds of people right from the commissioner of police to the road side Romeo. Their desk day at the office starts after 7pm when they go to their office, consolidate their stories, prepare the reports and submit it to the editor. After all this running around they would be lucky if their story gets published and luckier if they get the byline (i.e., their name printed at the end of the story).
So we started my first and so far the only day as a crime reporter. I was initially a bit disappointed when we came to know that the hit and run story was not true. But we later came to realize that the location information supplied was incorrect. Just when we thought all was going well (at peak hours in Delhi traffic) we got a call regarding a custodial death of a caddie who was arrested for a chain-snatching incident.
Regular crime stories are not too hard as the cops provide most of the details to the reporters and the reporters just have to do the back-end and field research. A custodial death is a different ball game altogether. Here most often the cops are at fault and hence do not co-operate at all. Not only that they do not co-operate the also try to mislead the reporters.
So now we had two stories to cover, multiple police stations to barge in and out of and that too at different locations in Delhi. My day was getting better and better. The hit and run case was cake walk. We found the bus which was the culprit, the bike which was the victim and the story of their romance from the SHO (station head officer). With the love story securely stored in our cameras we headed for the more sensational of the two cases.
As mentioned earlier this being a custodial death case we were (actually she was) pretty sure the cops would not be of any assistance. We short-listed 3 different police stations from where we planned to drain out the information. I did not have any prior experience dealing with cops and that too when we were to interrogate them and not the vise versa. She decided to train me by showing how it is done in one of the stations. I was astonished to see how well behaved these cops act while dealing with reporters. I was introduced as the assistant reporter. The comfort with which the cops treated us really made me feel at home in a place, whose thought gives nightmares to people. I was introduced to a long list of officers and their subordinates. Some of them even claimed that they knew me and were aware that I had joined the news paper daily very recently, though in reality I haven’t been to Delhi in 15 years and was definitely not a reporter. All we could gather from the half hour discussion there was the name of a village.
We split up for the next round of enquiry as we had to cover 2 police stations and we did not have much time. I dropped her at the first and went on to the second one. Fortunately the SHO was on leave and the person in charge was a lady. I introduced myself as a reporter and as if out of instinct said “hello DiDi aap kaise ho”. As soon as she heard the word “didi” she felt very happy and started an animated but very casual conversation. I had to very careful here because if blew my cover I would be in really deep shit (phew..I feel like a spy already). To my surprise she did not get the slightest clue about me ( this I came to know much later through my friend). Anyways I had to really make up a lot of stuff but all I could find was a name. My friend on the other end had fared much better (of course.. she was a pro..) and she also found some details about this boy.
Our next destination was the village where this guy lived. I was dumb-struck to see that, this village (yup it was an old fashioned village) was located in the heart of the city. We found a couple of street rowdies (the self appointed bhai types..) whom we asked for directions. I was scared to talk to them initially. My friend passed a sarcastic comment that if we had to fight them, she would take on two of them and I just need to find my way through one. Going by her proportions, I knew she could take on two of them with easy. Anyways such a confrontation was not required because these guys fled as soon as used the word “police” while asking direction (..phew…).
Somehow we managed to locate this boy’s house. Almost the whole village was assembled there. We went and introduced ourselves ( actually she did…I was too confused to do anything). As soon as they heard who we were the mother of the boy thought I was the main reporter and she fell to my feet and started crying. I never felt so helpless in my entire life. I did not know what to say to this lady or to anyone assembled there who were staring at us as we were their only ray of hope. I felt ashamed of my helplessness. We asked them a few questions and got the picture of the boy. They all had the same story to tell that their kid was innocent and the cops should be punished and we should help them get justice. As the time we spent with those people grew longer the crowd started becoming hostile. The people started shouting slogans against the police. This was the time my friend told me that we should be leaving as we did not want to be the reason behind a riot.
Since we had both the stories now we went back to a coffee shop. The same shop from where my journey as a reporter began and ended. Though it was a big day for me, my part got over here. Now she had to go to office and convert the drafts to story.
I was to leave Delhi early morning the next day. I was sitting in my berth and reading the newspaper. To my pleasant surprise I found the news story printed in the 2nd page itself. Though my friend got the story printed she did not get the byline. As I was reading the story the scenes from what happened yesterday passed through my mind as a movie and then I thought of the movie ‘Page 3’ and knew how Konkana Sen would have felt on her first day as a crime reporter. All I could think of was that sometimes…..Sometimes Reel life and Real life are not that different………
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