A Swift Start

I am stuck and regularly snug in as the interstitial piece in the high school chemistry lattice.
No respect, no concern, and all that I get are copper flats for my flatbreads. That goddamn
Elliot took away my shares and my money. With nothing in this sucking hole, I am with no
event horizon in sight.

“Bang, bang!”

A howl and a growl, and some more shots fired. A startled Walt, oh, for you, Walter ‘Walt’
White! In the melancholic state of his with the lung cancer bellowing within, the fire at the
corner doesn’t strike a bullet, and he continues to move on.


“Why are you requesting me to make your meth?”

“I work for Heisenberg.”

“And who the hell is he?”

The conversation ends abruptly. The questioner disappears into the hollow he came from, and
Walt is left all alone again.

None is so entitled that they meet The Heisenberg. Docked in the palls of methamphetamine
and pot, he decides to meet, not you. He wanted you to work and so shall you. No questions,
neither asked nor answered.


I know it is too abrupt that I started to walk from the hospital from the doctor who dares to
pronounce my death sentence to the drug suburb ‘territory’, and now out of the scene to a
civilised neighbourhood. A job offer, money in future, tensed cardio and all balance the other
in symphony. In this resonating self, I approach my gloomy household where the same chores
repeat like ablutions.

“Happy Birthday!”

As the room was filled with people and pizza, the realization dawned upon White that it was
his start of the countdown of death and the coinciding birth date. With a heavy heart and a
broader smile, he joins the merry-men, all but one.

“What were you doing in the suburbs?”

“Hank, I was roaming around, and happened to take a wrong turn and landed in the hollow. I
was not at all conscious and something else was on my mind.”

“Do you even understand the dangers?”

Shit! This man is to describe the dangers to a man to be dead in a few days. This shallow man
who is a bloody DEA agent with a remaining D in the hands of the cartel. This man who has
achieved nothing but petty fame and fallacy.


“So, you are ready to start?”


Pinkman, a flunking drop-out who learnt not a straw was the meth-head meth-cook. Guiding
the new cook into the lab, he shows the ‘elegance’ of his preparation – chilli meth. The lab in
a wonderful state with shelves set and state of the art gear sadly fails to influence the novice.

“You cook here?”


“And people buy your meth?”

“Hell, yeah!”

“I am out.”

“Why the fucking you come into my lab and come into my territory if you were never
working in this manner?” expressed an agitated Pinkman.

“If I am to cook, we are to do it my way, the scientific way.”


“And, this is Methamphetamine, or as you shitty people call, Meth.”

A roused up Pinkman takes the crystal into his hand and sniffs in a jiffy.

“This is legend-level, Heisenberg needs to see this.”

“Can I meet him?”

A pause, and a gunshot.

“The shank shit!”

A disturbed Walt is held by the sight of the shot eavesdropper. Shocked and perturbed,
Walt watches the blood flowing down his sneakers. The crimson colours his leather in the
deepest hue, and brings up the gory of death in him. With fear in eyes, he speaks –

“Can I meet him?”

Walking Away

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She gently walked,
Out of his life –
And the door closed,
Without a click.

Yet there was a click,
And he gently walked
Out of his life.

The voyage went on,
In the sky,
And on earth,
One in tears, other in sobs.

Not souls, but
Sorrows mingled,
And they loved separation
For others, over the consonance –

The Hour

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“The World ends in an hour!”

As this line marqueed over the television screen, all were up the spout. Nitin was calling his
girlfriend. Pooja, her kitty friends. Mom, her husband. Grandma, her God-friend. In this erratic
situation, I was busy calling everyone and every other one seemed lesser to take care of me.

Mom rushes into her bedroom, and tucks her best jewellery, clothes in the suit-case, while
munching on a sandwich. She was too inconsiderate, and hardly cared about me or anybody
else. I remembered her manicured hand’s soft touch, her way of caressing me when I was
young, and her way of feeding me, but they were gone. All gone ! How one simple line on the
television screen could alter a human’s attitude towards others startled me.

Rushing with tears rushing, I went into Nitin’s room. He was busy collecting the souvenirs of
the ‘good’ times spent with his unfaithfully faithful girlfriend. As I tried to talk to him, he
shouted and I had to do nothing but return. I was again lost in the lane of memories
recollecting times of having a sumptuous lunch with Nitin, a play of ball and much more.
Alas, they were the talk of past, and the present was full of sorrow!

Pooja was perhaps the most dramatic of all these. With Skype on her laptop, and friends
polishing their nails on either side of screen, they were statistically forecasting and analysing
the future of their daily soaps. Perhaps that was more important than life, or so they thought.
And, again my presence went into oblivion with not more than one corner glimpse of Pooja. I
was again rejected.

Dejected, I tread the path less tread, and moved towards Granny’s room. There she sat on
her mat, lost in the rosaries, impervious to the news. Hearing me coming in, she opened up
her eyes gracefully, and greeted me with a smile. Putting her hand around me, she started
talking of the greatness of Krishna, how he managed to be detachedly attached to the
humanity, and dwell in the same time in the vastness of the cosmos. Though, I hardly
understood a word of her, I was happy with the attention I received.

Outside the window, I could see people going haywire, and many yelling, others sobbing,
some sledging, and much more. Sitting in the coolness, and learning of the virtuous
omnipresence, I went into a state of trance. But it was again short-lived, and people started
banging and barging again.

There were a few more minutes, and as I sat there, I contemplated on the events. How
egocentric were people? How they went into their own selfish spheres ignoring all that
happens? How hypocritical had they been, when they said they loved me, and now they
ignored me?

But, then crept in a strange smile over my face, and my tail wagged again, as I cerebrated –

“ It was better that I had been a dog, and not a human. ”


Today, as the sun shone through the fainted glass windows, I saw you. Moving around with
me, and as I do, you become my foremost friend.

When I embrace light in those unknown, untread paths, I embrace you. You are the one who
stands as a testimony to me, my emotions, my criticism and my praise. Mute and liked by all
for you don’t reply to the chiding, people seek you more than me.

Talking to you, and discovering you as a part and pal of mine has been quite an experience in
itself. Every morning and every night, you silently convey the message of happiness and
bonhomie to me. The conversation remains incomplete and unending, on from dawn to dusk.

You leave me never, in gloom or glam. Going on this path of life, hand in hand, we shall
achieve and move from milestones to success clinging to each other.

Endorsing Advertisements


Understood the statement?


But, how could you understand the Mutual Fund Investment statement, and not recognize a peer of it?

Welcome, friends, to the sensational world of advertisements,

As I advertise the advertisements!

Today’s new sensation – the advertisements, a part of deception row undertaken by the People’s
Popular Party, where they earn lakhs and crores in the name of a brand you use, and they discard for
your usage. Don’t worry, it is the way, you are being swindled by the swines since the times of Papyrus
of Egypt, or the oriental drummers in the squares squaring you off.

As we go from one level of hypocrisy, and veil to another, so do the advertisements of ours. From the
tall claims of detergents to whiten our clothes (read, bleach), to the taller ones of the fairness creams to
make the dusky ones fair. We move from the cool talc of one superstar to the gyno-magnetic
deodorants of another. Lost are the reasons, we destine and decide to let us qualify as literate idiots.

Following the herd started by the herdsman, who is nowhere to be seen now, we go on a cannibalistic
streak. And, the herdsman, enclosed in his stardom enclosure enjoys the best and selected products of
quality projected in the endorsed products of his. Yet, every other time we decide not to be deceived
again, only to fall into the snares of delusion all over again.

Everyone becomes a scientist. Experimenting, as they say, with one product for a month, and then the
other, and the cycle goes on until they shroud their beautiful natural coat with a cloak, absurd enough
not to be commented on. Hardly do I understand the necessity of that gel for the hair, or that cream for
the face. Do we hate ourselves so much that we need to wear make-up and show-up?

Wonder is in the ideas promoted by the advertisements; every car enjoys the numero uno spot, that
stars would barge into the privacy of your toilet seat and show you that if you don’t use their toilet
cleaners, the state is shit, and much more. Even sanitary napkins are overrated with the menstrual
cycles being the highlight. Starting from the blue liquid shedding, to the winning of reality shows,
competitions based on using a particular brand.

Such has become the state of advertisements, that they have become initiators for channel change,
rather than actually showing off their products. Gone are the days, when advertisements stood for half a
minute showing the lozenges, or the biscuit. Today, more than reality show, brand show is more. Going over the moon, for the products, and having them endorsed by people nowhere linked to them has become the mantra.

Best part of advertisements is the humour value presented in them. Starting from politics to satire of
yours, they give you or you have their criticism done. Yes, knowledge also dwells in the realms of
advertisements. In the form of the Life Insurance policies, some ideas are given, while most remain out
of sight to deceive you. And, then there are these mutual fund statements spoken at a rate faster than
you can actually hear them, did you ever think they wanted you to hear about it?

As the dissection comes to an end, I stand at the conclusion of not being able to surmise the advertising
policies of now. They are too erratic, too colourful and too sweet. They sell as if they are the only
sellers, and deceive as if it is their birth-right. Goes on this drama of deception, and advertising, and we
the mute spectators who don’t mute the speakers’ advertising long to stay long in this racket of
ephemeral eternity.

Cherished Secrets

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Dates rolled by yet thoughts fixed upon one, they speak yet they don’t, they talk to none but the
craving me. Memories of the forgotten and the past come into life in my wee little world. Sensations
unparalleled, joys unraveled, and the beautiful yet disdainful one left me swiveling in nowhere.

While I was shuffling through my playlist for some good chords, the coolness of the room and
the bewildering crisscross of the lights pouring in from places unknown accompanied by the mellifluous
music had me translocated back into times when I was a fighter, known to the lost eyes of a different
world of mine, busy with the lost pieces to be normal again. Those sweet memories made me realize
that, once I too was a part of the mad youth, filled with all sorts of damn emotions and infatuations.
Times have changed a bit now and from the one who craved for the unnamed and unknown one in the
dimly lit midsummer nights, I have been transformed into a more stable and person of sound judgment.
Such nice infatuations and ‘confidential’ love stories woven in a dreamland tickle my funny bones today
and smile at a lonely me.

Songs of my taste – slow and of the romantic types, an awesome combination, akin to the
melancholic state of mine took me down the memory lane from the career-conscious youth of today.
Shockingly someone left and forgotten beneath the awful pressures of today silently woke up from the
slumber and asked : Are you the same mad fellow of the days gone by or the composed one of today.
Yet the madness still prevails and I look up for the heights to be tamed. In reality, the period is such that
you have an inclination towards someone, for her beauty, her likeness, her curves, her style, her long
shining tresses, her gait and a few days or months after being in the trance, you realize her nothingness.
Taunted then, you get up into her eyes and fight for the meaningless thing called a damn infatuation. It’s
all a beautiful part of being betrayed in the thorny path of life that makes a man fall and get up. Then
does he realize and cherish the beautiful dream he had and the awful consequences that followed.

What was difficult to be forgotten and brought hot and blinding tears to the eyes of the
armored ‘lover’ then, brings a shameful but lovely curve on the face with its myriad colors and beautiful
blossoms, for that’s the true meaning of the infatuation. Eyes brighten up and you realize the past
blunders and the innocent mistakes committed in the bravado of relentless purity of inclined ideals for
someone to show off. There is indeed an attraction beyond your control for someone or many that
fastens up your beats and takes you up to a level to enjoy the adrenal flow and cherish the cinematic
lines in which you comment to yourself sooner or later the fallacy of youthful love. And, finally it makes
you realize the value of such actions in life.

Beautiful moments and times were they, yet only a mere part of this eventful life. A few nimble
thoughts of the past reflect a mere stature of the mind. Failing in this rat-race is more beautiful than
being a part of it or emerging victorious. This is the battle yearned to be lost. But, being a participant of
the rat-race of careers and money in this 21st century, one must move on. Leaving the byzantine
amalgamation of the quintessence of all emotions, one must trail the trodden lines. To remain shoulder
to shoulder and maintain an honorable position, it’s much required. Work, work to be a part of this
system, else sooner or later, you shall be kicked out of it.

Doing it Bayes’ way!

I stand at the fork of decisions, and think how far I can see beyond the undergrowth. Sadly, my eyes fail
before the expanse of the horizon or the undergrowths veil my mind. But, wait, there comes my friend –
Thomas Bayes – and I suppose he can handle this with his strange play of numbers.

Welcome to Bayesian Statistics, dear friends!

When less is known of the matter in question, but more is required of the answer to supply, Bayes solves
where Frequentist methods fail to apply. Too much of jargon, eh! Fine, I will simplify that for you.
When we talk of a dependent variable’s variance in the data of the future, but we have less data of the
past to exactly predict it, or less of independent variables to analyze the situation, we use Bayesian
Statistics. It uses the statistical history of the independent variables and individually acts on them to
predict the further changes in the dependent variable. For example, I need to do some background check
on a person, but I don’t know much of his past or a large number of friends. So, in this case, I go for a
check of his friends’ background checks from the day of his being in relation with them, and by this I
make a probable forecast of how the person would be in the days to come.

Coming to the technical side, Bayesian statistics involves an axiomatic approach to a statistical question.
It is an interpretation of probability as a ‘rational, conditional measure of uncertainty’. With objective
methods available to analyze several situations, it is possible to handle seemingly incoherent scientific
hypotheses in an assembled manner of analysis using Bayesian Statistics, while this possibility cannot
even be thought of in Frequentist Statistics.

Sometimes, Bayesian Statistics methods are referred to be ‘probabilities of probabilities’ corresponding to
the mathematics style followed in its usage. Further, the mathematics involved in it is dynamic in nature,
and adjusts itself to the changes in the data-set. Bayesian methods in a way reduce statistical inference to
problems in probability theory, and serve to prove the point stated either by logical justification or by
proving the logical inconsistency of others.

Apart from the mathematics involved in Bayesian Statistics, a set of scholars work on the non-calculative
section based on the ‘degrees of belief’. This section analyzes an event in a manner of how many people
talk of it, how they talk of it (qualitative), what is the context that they talk of, etc. An equivocal situation
arises in the accuracy of this method, and application of this in real-time situations is hence restricted.
With the prior information and limited indirect knowledge of the variable, Bayesian Statistics helps in the
analysis. It is dynamic in the prediction of the results, and works in accordance to the trends of the
independent variables. This ability of Bayesian Statistics to adapt to the changes in the situation makes it
more resourceful.

Coming to the field of applications, we shall be surrounded by many, but what about money rather than
many. Yes, my friends, you read it right. Bayesian Statistics is the greatest concept of the money-printing
machine known as the Stock Market. Goldman Sachs, Franklin Templeton, AOS, you name it and they
use it. The use of Bayesian Statistics outnumbers the rate of success of any other method to predict the
market. So fluid, so dynamic, so uncertainly certain it is – that mind trusts it for money.

In reality, we use this form of prediction every moment in life, weighing one situation to another, and
thinking of others’ remarks and how they would have done. So, with a crude form of Bayesian Statistics
running in our minds and helping us understanding things around us, we walk unknown yet well-known
to this mathematical concept.


by someshm1 0 Comments

When petulance turns into petunia,
When rapacity rusts,
I alight –

Map is not the territory,
Pervade and concur,
The soul within, self without –
Quest endless, shall it be,
Hold Thy nerve and sinew,
And submit with authority –

Not in the Himalayas shall Thou find Me,
But in Thy Himalayan presence,
Shall I manifest Myself !