Cellu-losers

I took one last drag from my cigar and rang my receptionist and asked her to send in the first patient of the day. I walked over to the record player and put on “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”. Mozart always had this effect of putting my patients at ease, and got them talking not long after they had settled down on the couch. I had tried Stravinsky in the past, but that did not go too well. It tended to make the patients a tad…cartoonish.

The first patient knocked on the door and I asked him to come in. He…rolled in and made himself comfortable on the couch.

I feel slothful, doctor.

Hmm. Tell me more about it. Do you feel tired? Physically?

No. Not physical at all. As a member of the Solanum Tuberosum community, we are pretty healthy. Starchy in fact. I think the problem’s in my brain.

Why do you think so?

I seem to spend all of my days sitting in front my computer monitor watching videos online.

Hmm. So you are an youtuber. A couch human.

Yes. I don’t want to die a vegetable. Well, yes, I am one, but you know what I mean.

I do. When did you start watching videos online

I wanted to use the web to learn how to be more useful to my customers, the humans

But you are rather versatile, the most popular vegetable in the world, are you not?

Yes, but I feel like a can of pepsi. Popular, yet mostly harmful. What do I get made into? French fries, laden with cholesterol. Baked potato, filled with cheese. Streetside Aloo Tikki, filled with Bacteria. Nothing uplifting. I don’t feel special.

But you provide nourishment to a very large part of the world.

But it is not enough just to fill people’s stomachs. I want them to experience joy. And that is why I was searching for recipe videos online, on creative, gourmet recipes involving me

And did you find any?

No. All the good recipes never involve me. It’s almost as if I am commonplace food, some one who does not belong on the gourmet’s table. A peasant’s calorie provider. Yes my absence has known to cause famines, yet my presence has never caused joy.

But it is your ubiquity that is special. What other vegetable can lay claim to that? Being an expensive gourmet item like asparagus is socially not very productive.

I still feel miserable.

Hm. Tell me about your relationship with your father

Oh well. My roots are in Shimla. I had a very protected childhood in a very simple family. A very down to earth existence, in fact. I want to break out of my banal existence.

Interesting. I’d like to explore your childhood a little bit more next time. Tuesday evening?

Ok doctor. In the meanwhile, do you know any gourmet potato recipes?

Oh yes. I recommend the Scarborough Curry. Potato, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.

Thank you doctor. I’ll see you on Tuesday.

I rang Helga, and asked her to send the next one in.The knock this time was soft, hesitant, indicative of a lack of self confidence. I asked the patient to come in. He rolled in with the grace of a deflated football and settled himself on the couch.

I am dark.

The colour of your skin is immaterial.

Look at the potato. He is so fair skinned. I want skin like him.

Why Mr Beet? You are a nutritious vegetable of the healthiest kind. Why do you want to turn into a fair skinned amit_123 vegetable like potato?

You will not understand doctor. There is a subliminal bias towards fair skin in this country. They get better jobs, and better spouses.

So did you try any treatments?

Of course I did. I tried steaming. It made me soft, but didn’t make any difference to my colour. My cousin tried the more dangerous Fungal treatment. He exposed himself to some spores and hoped that the white furry growth will add to his fairness. It did not. He died a horrible death as the fungus ate him from the outside.

Tragic. But it would fair (I’m sorry) to say that in nature, darker colours are generally healthier. Lighter, pastel shades are often associated with a lack of health, would it not?

All that is fine doctor. You will not understand my position. You are Caucasian. You will not feel the pain I do when I see the matrimonials in the newspaper, the ones that say – “Wanted fair, wheatish grain for pollination”. It makes me feel unwanted.

Hm. I believe that you must turn the energy of your depression into the strains of lugubrious, yet powerful music. Sing the song of your sadness and uplift the masses.

I will sing the Reddishpurples. Thank you doctor.

That wasn’t too difficult. Helga, last one for the day please.

The patient walked in, but I wasn’t too sure. Several brown lumps ambled in and assembled themselves on the couch and once they did that, a doleful face manifested itself.

Doctor, I feel like a eunuch

I cannot quite conceive…Sorry..that was “my” slip (ha ha). Why do you say so?

My pumped up “seeded” cousins call me a eunuch. They laugh at my inability to reproduce

Why should that matter? Reproduction is not such a lofty goal

But what other goal might I have in life?

Perhaps the goal of being part of the greatest milkshake in the world, the legendary “Sharjah Oman” of Trivandrum?

Oh well, perhaps, but I need something loftier

Ok. How about you being a metaphor for AIDS prevention?

Eh? How does a seedless date become a metaphor for AIDS prevention?

There! You said it. The answer’s right there. If dates are seedless, AIDS can be prevented

Oh. Like that ah. But doctor, I detect a flaw in your logic

Hm. Boole-iye (ha ha)

If less people have casual sex, there will be more AIDS.

Really? And how is that?

Consider the following two kinds of people- promiscuous, risky, potential HIV carriers and sexually conservative people who do not have much casual sex. It is safe to assume that there are more of the second kind. So it follows that if more socially conservative people have more casual sex, it reduces the chances of promiscuous, risky people passing the disease around.

Oh I see. How do you feel now?

Actually, better. Pwning your logic gives me self confidence. Thank you doctor

(To Helga ) Please make a note. No more economists or people who read economics books allowed as patients.

Note:

1. No vegetables were harmed during this experiment. Markers using vegetable dyes were used, and Mr Beet’s eyes are cotton + red toothpaste

2. The Seedless date session has references to Steve Landsburg highly enjoyable book – “More sex is safer sex”

3. The origami brontosaurus

4. The painting on the wall is by MC Escher.

Sigh Fie Chen High, episode 2: The GM Test

This is a sequel to Sigh Figh Chen Igh, in terms of it being set in the same fictional universe. It’s also rather Madras centric, so for those not from this city, migrate here if you wish to make sense of this post. On an unrelated note, somebody saw it fit to interview me.

The laboratory had a laid-back look, contrary to the popular cliche that busy, messy labs are the ones at the cutting edge of science. But do not mistake the Extraordinary Gilma Lab for one of those stereotypical R&D joints where bureaucrats test the tensile strength of scarlet coloured tape. The EGL was the pride of Silken Valley, a sprawling high tech strip of research institutions that stretched from the Mandaveli Hyperbusport to the Hovercraft port on the banks of the Adyar river. Ever since RMK Viswanathan,XVII discovered (in 3673 A.D) that the pallu of extraordinarily intricate Kancheepuram sarees could perform advanced computations at an exponentially higher speed than the now obsolete silicon based semiconductors, the Silken revolution had altered life as we knew it in Sambaria. The new elite in Madras society were the weavers of logic, aptly titled Silk Smithers.

Guna was sitting at his terminal, unable to bring his mind to concentrate on the task at hand. He was still smarting from his weekend experience at the TTK Virtual Academy for Interactive Music For Elite Masses on Radhakrishnan-Cathedral-Hyperavenue. He had decided to try out one of those much vaunted interactive Carnatic concerts where one could virtually “become” the artiste, say “Besh Besh” at the right moments and also confuse the mridangist by messing up the Misra Chapu tala, among other things. But what he did not expect was the white virtual veshtied gang, the Carnatic Clucks Clan, to hound him as he attempted to virtually perform the Bilahari alapana as the violinist. They had infiltrated the virtual audience and had loudly passed comments such as “Is this Bilahari? Or Mohanam with indigestion?”. Hailing from the southern spacepolis of Pondicherry, he was caught totally by surprise, being unaware of the strongly parochial tendencies of the crowd that patronized the Virtual Academy.

He took his Pansolaric Coffeeblaster in a big gulp, hoping that the unique concoction of caffeine, milk and bubbles would provide him the necessary kick start to his endeavour. Having studied to be a pseudomicrobiologist, his particular skills had suddenly became useful in the world of Silken computing, as scientists now played with the Silkworm’s DNA to produce custom threads for use in the construction of modern day Processing ALgorithmic Logic Units (PALLUs). Guna was engaged in testing and fine tuning a revolutionary new computational knowledge engine, code named Wolfram Omicron. While knowledge engines had been around for the better part of the last millennium, Omicron was special. It was designed to be the first machine to pass the GM Test (short for the Goundamani Quantum Hypothetical Modified Turing Test). No machine had ever passed that test, and Guna was on the threshold of achieving what was universally considered to be impossible.

The Coffeeblaster took longer than usual to reboot his brain. He made a mental note to order the more potent Kumbakonam Degreeblaster from tomorrow. He could not afford to waste any more time. He made a few last minute code changes and brought up the Omicron interface for the big moment. He took a deep breath, looked at his Cesium powered high precision Rahu Kalam determination unit, and typed the Goundamani Quantum Hypothetical Modified Turing Question.

He then waited, as the millions of PALLUs crunched quadrillions of bits (perhaps “crunch” is not quite an appropriate verb to describe the inner workings of the Silken processor. Swished and Sashayed, perhaps) in its attempt to crack the GM test. It finally spit out the answer.

He had done it.

No coputer has been able to crack the GM test to date. This was the greatest achievement in machine intelligence since the Advanced Language Engine of 2896 that finally deciphered the Malayalam mumblings in the song “Jiya Jale”. He looked at Omicron and silently whispered “Thank you”.

To be continued……

Glossary (This is an extension of the earlier glossary at the end of the earlier part)

Virtual Veshti -Invented in 2870 by Lord Ram Raj XVII, a few years after the last man who knew how to tie a veshti (dhoti) passed away. The invention was a huge hit, and caused a resurgence of veshti-pride. The device was essentially a modulated, high-definition 3D laser surface generator in the shape of a waistband, and allowed the wearer to simulate an authentic looking veshti of ones choice by the click of a button. A “Thooki-kattu” (Lift, fold and tie) mode was also available. The older models were prone to failure, especially in the “Thooki-kattu” mode. A rounding error in the Intel Ombodhium processor of those times that powered the device often caused a miscalculation of the height at which a veshti must be thooki-kattufied. Battery life was also a concern, as the Microsoft Embedded Windows OS that powered the device had the nasty habit of claiming “20% battery life left”, and then suddenly next moment, inexplicably dropping to 2%. Subsequent versions improved reliability considerably, especially when Ramraj decided to dump Windows and adopt Ubuntu (the Valiant Veshti edition).

Going  open source eventually created an ecosystem that allowed the community to develop custom plugins for the Virtual Veshti. Kabali Design Enterprises (KDE) announced in 3124 that a lungi mode was now available, with further options to choose between  “Subdued Erode”, “Singapore Silky” and “Hallucinogenic Tirunelveli”.

Interactive Carnatic Concert – A virtual reality event where the audience could put themselves in the place of the artistes and engage in all of the shenanigans they usually indulge in

Carnatic Clucks Clan – A terrorist organization founded by a retired SBI employee/rasika dedicated to keeping Carnatic music pure and devoid of any external influences. This group’s trademark appearance involved spotless white virtual veshtis and hoods made from Angavastrams.

Fake Fake IPL Player Blog post

As I was Titan watching the DLF IPL, It Ford Pickup struck me as CBS Dan Rather unfortunate that Bharti Indian cricket commentary had Parryware Kitchen sunk to Aavin appalling depths where commentators have to Anchor plug brand names into every sentence they Pillsbury utter. MDH Masala seasoned campaigners like MTR Ravi Dosa Shastri are now tongue Park Avenue tied as their regular cliches need to be Escorts Hospital surgically inserted with ads.

“We are in for a Parle cracker of a WIMCO match”, practices Ravi. “That Arun Ball icecream was four from the Dairy Milk moment it left the BDM bat. It has gone the BSNL long distance. Gilette Razor edged, and taken. This match, one feels, will go down to the Havell’s wire”

What next? Branded player nicknames? Like Swiss Beef Chuck Malinga? Or Samsung Split A/c Cool Gayle? Last year, I wrote about the annoying proliferation of ads in the telecast, but this year has seen a recession driven paranoia towards squeezing money out of every pore, so apart from “commentading”, we now have “Strategy Timeouts”. Legend has it that the marketing maven who proposed this idea called it, in a rare moment of candour, “7.5 more minutes of adjaculation”, but was unfortunately overruled. The same genius must have also come up with the idea of in-game player interviews with the “Logo Biriyani” backdrops. I am told that the IPL invested heavily in some Limelite Salon cutting Gilette Razor edge research on technology that would have enabled the logos in the backdrop to light up and get animated when the interviewer or interviewee mentions keywords of interest to a particular advertiser (called AdNonSense technology). So when Robin Jackman asks Anil Kumble about the “resurgence” of “spin”, perhaps the BJP’s “LK Advani for PM” ad could light up, do a little dance and then give way to the Durex logo as it activates itself when Kumble utters the word “performance”. The possibilities are endless. But apparently the technology wasn’t ready for prime time yet. So I am looking forward to it next year.

But I sometimes fear what will happen when Homo Sapiens evolves the ability to tune out ads, TiVo style. What will advertisers do then? I know. They will make us “GoBuy Manchurian Candidates”. Kids will be primed and conditioned from kindergarten to respond to specific brand name keywords. So during the “Strategy Timeouts”, advertisers will unleash magic words, like “Phosphoric Acid”, which for instance, will cause all of us to stand up and walk like zombies to the nearest store and buy a 4-litre Pepsi.

Don’t mistake me. I enjoy the IPL. Men enjoy masturbation once in a while. While I often crave for the classiness of a romantic, candle-lit test match, the pleasure of listening to legendary ex-cricketer commentators announcing with breathless excitement, the first DLF Maximum in any game with the fervour of a teenager at a Nickelback concert screaming at each one of their ridiculously homogenous songs copy-paste jobs, is too much to resist.

And last but not the least, on April 18th, the day when the DLF IPL started, I was wondering about the artificiality of it all. In fact, “Fake IPL” sounded like a nice moniker for this annual gajabujalsa of masala cricket. So I thought that starting a “fake” blog might be a good idea. Yes, the “Fake Fake IPL Player Blog”. But then it was too easy. Making fun of a celebrity driven, short-staffed, dysfunctional team with multiple captains and a poor playing record is no different from making fun of a handicapped kid trying to sing opera at the school annual day. It’s failure voyeurism. But us desis enjoy nothing more than a fictional anonymous insider tv-soap-style-badmouthing the big bad institution that’s muzzling his talent. Korbo, Lorbo, Whinebo. Blog on this, as they say.

By the way, the Chennai Super Kings also have an insider blog.

I felt a little nostalgic a few days back and watched Michael Holding torment Geoffrey Boycott

Or Viv toying with the bowler

I cant help feeling that compared to that, the IPL is, to paraphrase their own brand name infested catchphrase, a shitty moment of epic fail