Gumsum si aankhon ne ik din ek khwab sa dekha tha,

Aaeene mein usne apne andar jhankna jaise seekha tha…

Nadaan sa balak tha wo, par kab tak nadaan reh paata ?

Sochta tha dharti par hi kahin ek swarg hai,

Par aakhir kahan tak dhoondh paata ?

Kisi ne kahaa tha us se ki door kahin pariyon ka des hai..

Wahan rehti hain shwet sundar saloni pariyan..

Mamta ki deviyan, karuna ki moortiyan..

Chal pada ik din wo us des ki talaash mein,

Paar karta gaya nadi, naale aur parbat un pariyon ki dhun mein..

Jab bhi thak padta, tanik ruk jaata woh ,

Khwabon mein un pariyon se ik baar mil leta woh…

Aur phir chal padta us ansuni aawaaz ki or,

Jo khinche ja rahi thi use, jaise koi kacchhi dor…

Na paanv ke chhalon ki thi use parwaah,

Na thi badan ki choton ki koi darkaar…

Bas dradh lakshya tha uske saamne,

Hawa, Paani, Dhoop sabne koshish kar li thi rokne ki…

Ab sab jaante the, chala hai wo na thamne..

Aur upar badalon mein kisi ne ik thandi saans li..

Pareshan ho gayee thi kucch shaktiyan…

Uski chaal se dagmagaa gayee thi kucch kursiyaan…

Use na pataa tha, wo to chala jaa rahaa tha apni masti mein,

Kya farq padta tha use, dar to tha hi nahin uski hasti mein…

Jaanta tha wo ik din manzil milegi to sahin,

Raasta na tha to kya, vishwas ki kami to nahin..

Phir ik din ik jangal mein wo pahuncha,

Hare hare ped jaise gaa rahe the wahan,

Panchhi jaise khushi ke maare chahak rahe the..

Na jaane kyun laga use jaise use hi wo bula rahe the..

Phir dekhi usne ik nadi,

Chhal-chhal behti, ithlaati nadi,

Hansti khilkhilaati, Sangeet sunaati nadi..

Moti jaise paani ke boondon waali nadi…

Na jaane kyun mehsoos hue use achaanak,

Jaise yeh nadi aa rahi ho wahin se..

Jahan thi uski manzil…

Jaise ye nadi ho uski humsafar,

Par jhijhaka wo, socha, nadi se hi kyun na poochh le..

Manzil aur raasta, dono hi ki kyun na sudh le ?

Phir socha usne, gar hai yeh usi des se aa rahi,

To phir kyun kar hai yeh kahin aur jaa rahi ?

Ghabda sa gaya woh, ab kya karta ?

Kya nadi se sach jaan kar laut padta,

Ya phir nadi ko bhi ik paath pada jaata …

Bataata use, is baar who bhi galat thi,

Usne bhi auron ki tarah dil ki na suni thi…

Baahav mein duniya ke woh bhi bas beh chali thi,

Phir bhi reh na paaya woh, puchh hi liya nadi se…

Kahan se ho tum aayee, kahan ko ho chali ..

Kyun ho uchhalti yun, kyun itna ho itraati,

Tum pe dayaa nahin, hansi mujhe hai aati…

Itna sun ke nadi chaunk gayee ik pal ko,

Phir jo khilkhilaa ke hansi, aur chal di apni raah ko…

Sochta hi reh gaya woh ki aakhir ho kya gaya,

Ik ajeeb si asmanjas mein ab tha bechaara pad gaya..

Na dikha jab koi raasta, na koi roshni chamki,

Kuchh gussa sa aaya use,

Kuchh sansani si machi uske dil mein..

Par is baar bhauhen tan gayee uski,

Daant bhinch kar, mutthiyan bandh kar chal diya phir..

Nadi ke kinaare chala jaa raha tha..

Par na dekhta tha us dusht triya ki or..

Aasman mein suraj jaise use dekhte dekhte thak sa gaya tha,

Phusphusa ke chanda se bola suraj – Ab mein chalta hoon,

Is pagle raahi pe nazar rakhne ka kaam tumpe chhodta hoon…

Chanda bujh na paaya, kehne lagaa – kyun kar uska hi dhyaan rakha jai ?

Aise to sainkdon hain, phir is chhote se alhad par kyun yeh karam kiya jai ?

Suraj mand mand muskaaya, bola arrey naadan, ye hi to hai wo kiran,

Wo kiran jo hum dono ko chamkaati hai,

Wo kiran jo saare jag ko roshni se nehlaati hai..

Dekh kaise jaa rahaa hai madmast..

Kaun kar sakta hai iske hausle ko past ?

Itne sunne par chanda ne jo ik nazar dekhi wo chaal,

Kayal ho gaya wo bhi us shakti ka, gayab ho gaye uske saare sawal…

Aur wo masoom kayaa thi, jo is sab se anjaan thi,

Wo to bas ik nazar, ik nischay se chale jaa rahi thi..

Pariyon ke us des tak ik din uska pahunchna tha tay,

Saari shristi yahi chahti thi ki uska wo milan ho mangalmay…

Phir kya hua ? Kya woh safal hua ? Kya use mili apni manzil ?

Yeh to pata nahin, par kehte hain wo ik taara ban gaya..

Apni roshni se kitne hi sansaron ka sahaara ban gaya…

Raat ko gar kaale aasman mein dekhoge uttar ki or,

Paaoge use wahin sada, yuhin muskate, yuhin sharmate,

Par sada yuhin drudh, kabhi na digne waala..

Yahi thi us taare ki kahaani, yehi thi uski gaatha…

Use jo chahe kahen, mujhe to ab bhi wahi puraana balak dikhta hai,

Jab bhi dekhta hoon use, wahi anand sada milta hai…

Kyunki wo hai ab ik taara,

Aur yaad mujhe sada dilaata hai,

Ki abhi nahin, abhi nahin hoon main haara…

At first...

It was a slow realization at first. He had spent the last 10 minutes in a daze. Everything seemed to be happening in the proverbial slow motion. For no reason, he suddenly remembered an idiotic TV ad about a hair oil which was showing a 10% extra promo. Switching back to the present with an effort, he saw her move as if to get up and leave. He panicked. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do. He must prevent her from leaving. And he knew that all he had to do was ask. But he couldn’t. She was smiling. Her face was smiling as well. He couldn’t see her face right now, but he couldn’t be surer of her expression. She didn’t know he was in here as well.

It had all started an hour back when he had walked into this restaurant with a colleague for a late lunch. It was when he was on his way back from the washroom that he had noticed her. She was three tables away, with a friend of hers. Nothing surprising – after all it was her favourite joint.

She looked radiant and fresh - clearly enjoying herself. She laughed suddenly about something in their conversation – throwing her head back, convulsing uncontrollably, almost on the verge of falling off from her chair. Free flowing innocence garnished with unbridled passion. His heart skipped a beat. And then she curled her little finger around the lone strand curving strategically from the left end of her left brow, bouncing off her left cheek and stopping just above her upper lip. But what really did him was the eyes. Big eyes, innocent and childlike – sparkling like the drops of water they show in mineral water ads, yet carrying that unmistakable calm of sensitivity and sensibility.

His colleague had left in a hurry after a phone call, and he had been left staring at her. Her face seemed so clear – as if he was watching through a telescope. She had a way of talking to the waiters that you could immediately see them almost worshipping her. She clearly was aware of being treated as a goddess and was quite nonchalant about it. Obviously it was a regular happening. Then it struck him that after all it was her favourite place and it was very likely that the staff knew her.

She was listening to her friend relate something, and was paying careful attention. He could see the glint of intelligence as she clearly grasped all that was being said to her immediately. He felt himself being drawn irresistably to her – almost a force dragging him physically. It was déjà vu. 5 years down the line after having fallen in love once, it was happening to him again. Stupid as it was, 10 minutes after having seen her first, he was absolutely sure about this. This was stronger than the last time. Some rational voice tried talking to him inside his head, but there was no point. The last time, 5 years back, it had been a blurred sequence of events. This time was no different. Nothing had changed. Not even the girl.

Large shiny black eyes, beautiful thick brows,

Thin mouth set firmly, as if everything she knows,

Silken flowing black hair, falling on arms slightly bent,

Fists tightly closed, as if on a mission she had been sent,

A mission that maybe she had never liked at all,

Against which her heart had given a passionate call…

Oft when in the morning the mirror she saw,

Wondered she – with her face what was the flaw ?

Whence came the fear she saw in so many eyes,

Could no one even hope that she might be nice ?

For they hated her even before seeing her once,

Her fear was passed away from fathers to sons,

So less were those that had seen her face full,

They loved her beauty, said they – of grace she was so full…

And they said her eyes were full of love and pity,

Find they could not why others thought she was all cruelty,

Had she not ended so many unending sufferings ?

Had she not gone to those who had called out her name,

In moments of hopelessness, who had gone by her fame,

Thinking that to all their problems she would be the solution,

Though never did she know how they got this notion …

For only she knew what it was to face the mother of the son she went to,

To look into the eyes of so many others he had been known to,

To each of whose hearts were tied strings he had pulled,

They all blamed her, not seeing the tears she had in her eyes,

So she had learnt to smile, not waiting any longer for her prize…

For such was her task, such was her existence,

But I bow to her, for I have heard my sentence,

Hear me, I look forward to meet thee,

And I can hardly stop feeling all glee,

I shall love you forever, till time doth stoppeth,

None can take you away from me, my dear Death !

A walk in the rain...

For the last two days I was constantly peeping out of my office window, waiting for and ardently wishing the guy at the top to cry and wet the warm earth with his flood of tears. There were clouds, and there was wind; trees were swaying nervously, leaves rustling in excitement; a pregnant pause in the scheme of things. I left early from office – she was waiting – and the weather was demanding.

25 minutes, a quick shower, and a sandwich later, we were ready to go out – for our daily long walk. Not one day in the last three years had we missed it, especially in such weather.  Both of us enjoyed our walk immensely, which was most often punctuated by long periods of silence – a kind of calm, yet strong silence that can only be between people who have been in love for 3-4 years.

It has grown dark, and the highway was quiet today. Every 5-7 minutes a truck or car would zoom past^, reminding us that it was a highway. And then it started to rain – huge drops they were as well. Within 5 minutes both of us were drenched, and ofcourse we were loving it. Enjoying the bliss together in this heavenly quiet, walking together endlessly on this black strip of winding road, lost in each other and in the rain.

Wind had picked up and rivulets had started flowing heavily all along the sides of the road. Avoiding little puddles, and splashing into slightly bigger ones, we were both like two happy children on a rare picnic. It completely slipped out of my mind as to what the time was, or where it was going.

Giggling happily, she was running ahead and I was chasing her, when she froze suddenly. I couldn’t see her face but instinctively I felt that she was horrified. I ran towards her, and straightaway saw the reason of her horror there in front of me on the road – A corpse of a dog – rather 2 parts of a dog’s corpse lying about 6 metres from us. Three ribs, broken at the edges, were clearly jutting out vulgarly, the other conspicuous by their absence.

The two back feet had been severed from the trunk and were lying separately a little way from the body. I was numbed for a moment, and then I saw the face – a sharp chill ran down my spine – the eyeballs had popped out of the socket, and a stream of water was running down the middle of the nose and disappearing at the end of his neck. But the eyes were alive – looking clearly at us, with a strange patronizing look, captivating and horrifying at the same time.

It was only now that I felt her staring me, not the corpse, and almost forced myself to look at her. I will never forget that look in her eyes – it haunts me in my dreams ever since – she was clearly and completely accusing me – it couldn’t have been more intense had I been responsible for the incident in front of us.

I recoiled, and started to explain, but her look made me swallow my words, and then I understood – for the first time in 3 years of living together – today it mattered that I was a human, and she, a dog.

The scuffle

A wind has picked up outside suddenly. The vulgar noises of cars and horns and bikes are laced with the soothing undercurrent of the wind flapping against his ears; hair - uncut and untidy – now reminding him of their existence as the wind hits them. Everything seems slower, significantly slower.

He is filled with an overpowering urge to look behind and see who is standing; knowing fully well that there possibly can’t be anyone. He feels like he is one of those honest cops in a 70s bollywood flick, who is invariably the hero’s dad, being framed by the villian’s right hand man by clicking his snap while the vamp has attached herself to his grasp with a blatantly lascivious look. It is an alien feeling, but one which he has been having increasingly frequently nowadays. He is yet to understand what it really is, but it is choking and frustrating him endlessly.

He knows he has to deal with it, but behaving uncharacteristically, he wants to delay that as long as possible.

He intently opens up the laptop, looking to add a few intense songs to the playlist and spend the next 20-25 minutes with the entire world blocked out. The songs on the list, he plugs in the earphones and closes his eyes. Allowing each note and emotion in the voice to sink in, he feels the deep fury and frustration in the singer’s voice. With a sudden chill, he opens his eyes, only to find them wet. A stream has started flowing, unreasonable and unstoppable.

It is a relief, not without a sharp angst; he hates the feeling of pity for himself, and has gone to great lengths to never succumb to it. With a sudden feeling that he has to move, or he may never be able to do so, he gets to his feet in a jerk.

The horizon changes.

In size, in shape, in colour and even in smell.

All around now there are lights - as if he is in the middle of a badly managed laser show.

The fact that he was on the terrace of the tallest building in a mile around meant that there was a 360 degree view for him. Exerting all his willpower to focus his sight on the details on a grey winding road in the distance, he can see a deluge of cars. It is striking as to how many of them are white. It is summer season, so white would be the colour – he reasons. Immediately he is laughing out loud at his own stupidity – all those cars are probably air-conditioned; Also, he had forgotten that he was thinking of cars, not clothes.

The people in the cars seem unreasonably and irrationally happy, though not one face is visible. He feels a strong pang of jealousy, as he sees a sedan in where there are just 2 people in the front seats. It is clear that they are deliberately driving slowly, trying to extend the moment.

Another day, another time, another place – all come flooding back. He can see himself clearly – 10 year old, standing on top of an extended branch of a particularly tall neem tree. It was a selected vintage spot, about 25 feet from the ground, showing the farthest fields in the line of sight. That day he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but it had seemed to him that he was.

He can still remember the instant at which he had seen it. A 8 feet long dark brown viper with beautiful black scales. Initially he couldn’t make out whether it was climbing up the tree or down. Then he saw the tail, and it was clear, the movement was upwards. It was on the trunk, about 40 feet from where he was standing, and there were all the chances that it would make its way to some other branch. That would make sense, especially as almost all nests were on the thicker branch on the opposite side. So if the viper had any sense, that’s where it would head.

But the creature was taking its own time.

It seemed indecisive – even turned around as if to climb down – only to circle the trunk and emerge again; this time a single eye shining more than it should. Then it started climbing, ever so slowly this time. The movement was now sharp and decisive, as if it was purposely slow to allow the time for him to panic. As it reached the V where the 2 branches started, the viper straightaway took the one with him without even stopping to think.

Instinctively, he snapped a branch and held it towards the general direction of the creature. It would be tricky to try and push it off the branch as if had coiled itself around the branch.

He looked down. A straight jump of 25 feet – on hard ground with baval thorns spread all across. It was more than twice what he was used to. He knew he had about half a minute to decide.

He took a moment to look at the snake clearly. He had read somewhere that more than 2000 people died in India every year after having bitten by a non-poisonous snake – not knowing that it was so, and panicking therefore. It’s scales and movement were unmistakable. It was a viper alright. He had seen 4 vipers before this one, and this one almost seemed like the one that had appeared in his neighbor Raju’s garden – only that was a smaller one – just about 4 feet. But there was no doubt about this one left.

He looked down again. In case he jumped and broke his leg, he would have to limp his way  back across the 2 fields separating him from his home. Vipers were not known to pursue, and most likely he would be left alone.

Something inside him wanted to chase it off – it didn’t seem fair – he had been on the branch first. Why should he be chased off ? But it was clear that things would be more under control after he jumped.

So he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, looking at a particular spot on the ground and thinking of it as the target. And then he jumped.

It took almost an eternity this time to reach the ground. And his last thought was that of a fierce pride - he was definitely going to hit the targeted spot.

Surprisingly, no one had seen him, and it was half an hour before someone noticed. An ambulance was called and someone rushed to wake up the sleepy family members. Both the legs had been completely shattered by the 10-storey 135 feet fall. But on his face there was an expression of freedom and victory – now the emotionless viper that was choking him from the last few days would no longer chase him.

He was free.

As the strong gushes after gushes of wind blew across my face with each passing lorry, I cursed the air resistance and imagined how I would have floated smoothly on the glistening highway if it weren't for this unthoughtful wind. Completely unmindful of the abnormally large drops falling all the way from up there, I wouldn't have imagined that if it weren't for this same air resistance, any one of these drops would have been enough to crack my skull into two.

Drenched to my underpants and shivering to my belly, I had just one thought in my mind - to reach the destination. But then was it the destination that mattered ?

I thought so.

And then I thought I was wrong, and I am enjoying the challenge as much as anything. Such a nice politically correct thing to feel. Challenge, eh ? So many people say this, right ? "Enjoying challenges" is a great thing to do, for it displays in no uncertain terms the fibre and strength of your character and personality.

So convenient, because life keeps on throwing challenges, and there possible can not be a dearth of challenges for you to claim that "I'm lovin it..." . But till what point does one cherish challenges, leave aside desire them ?

This question, and obviously the answer to it, is, to my mind, the key to use as an indicator of the "challengeworthiness", if you want to call it that, of any individual.

People respond to challenges in different ways. Some feel scared and some irritated. Some feel frustrated and others esctatic. Some look for an escape route, some diligently try to search for the best available route, and some others smile because they see the possibility of creating a couple of new routes. But interestingly, it is the difficulty level of a challenge which is seemingly the most important parameter in determining how a particular individual responds to a challenge. However, the parameter itself, in this case, is largely unmeasured or measured with a singular lack of objectivity. And so what is the basis of categorising a challenge, and then responding to it, becomes an open question.

Lets say one accepts a challenge gleefully, after somehow determining and evaluating the difficulty of overcoming it . Lets also assume that one is reasonably well equipped, in one's own estimation, to deal with the problems anticipated in overcoming the accepted challenge.

The more difficult part, however, remains.

Execution...

For it is during execution that men fail. It is in the process that after a point people give up. Most of the times the individual who gives up does so with seemingly rational reasons. At different points in the execution period, it does not seem to make sense to go on and continue. As a matter of fact you are likely to be labelled as a fool who cannot take decisions dynamically if you continue to do things in the same direction. And it is one's own guts and self-confidence only that can make one continue amongst all opposition. And this opposition may not just be from the outside world, but even from the people closest to you. But one has to stick it out . And yes, that is easier said than done. And that, to my mind, is at the heart of every challenge.

This post is both - a response to a post at http://vaibhavshintre.blogspot.com/ where ponderings over questions searching for humanity and the abominably difficult to find human spirit ( read dying or dead ) lead to rambling thoughts, and pardon my saying so, scrambled ideas.

Manipulation is a useful word though, I must say. It can be used to invalidate any plan or action very easily, and more importantly, with impeccable logic expressed, ironically, through feelings and perceptions.

And when that is done in response to observations which can in no way be even comprehensive, leave aside complete. Does this seem too mechanical or obscure a way of tackling tricky questions ? Or maybe this answer itself may be labelled as an exercise in manipulation.

Fair enough.

Immeasurability of intentions has often been as a proxy for unreliability. And one can argue that the proxy is as good as any. Its one of those convenient pieces of logic that can not be proved incorrect, though it may not be proved correct as well. So often in today's world do we come across examples of humans behaving in a way which we feel (and sometimes think also) is inhuman.

And human spirit, did someone say ? I was reading a book sometime back where the author has claimed (not suggested) that we have lost passion completely, and goes on to support his extreme opinion with saying that even our lovemaking today has lost passion. I dont blame him, as he is writing a book that must sell. But his assertion, like so many others made today, is one that some people would identify with, to varying degrees, and jump up and say "Oh yes! By Jove he is right!!!", and an exercise in generalisation of a statement which is neither an incomplete truth nor a complete falsehood begins.

One of my friends wrote a piece once, titled "Perceptions are illusions..." , and how aptly his title explains the phenomenon going on here. The danger, however, is that not just as individuals with varying capabilities and inclinations for carrying out logical analyses objectively, but also as groups we so often take the path of least resistance, relying on intuition and allowing it to dictate to us what is and what should be. How many times have new scientific theories, counter-intuitive and going against existing scientific thinking not been proved correct and gone on to become the new truths of the universe ?

Humanity has gone and human spirit has been crushed ?

Well... I would say go and look at a mother breast-feeding her child... Go and see a boy of seven on the streets carefully covering his sister of five with a torn blanket, himself shivering with cold, and still having eyes shining with hope and satisfaction that his kid sister is warm. Go and see old professors and teachers who, having spent 40 years shaping the thinking of young minds, still getting all excited when a naive youngster points out an apparent flaw in an accepted theory.

I can go on and on... But that is irrelevant here. What is of the essence is that till the day human race is physically wiped off the face of planet earth, ( and assuming they havent settled on some other planet by then ) humanity will always be there, not just mildly present in some dark corner and shrieking for becoming relevant and significant in people's daily lives, but being strongly overpowering... Enough to still make a student guilty when he cheats in exam... only, due to an acceptance of dilution of humanity and human spirit by people without due acknowledgement to the powerful spirit that is there within the critic himself, which actually made him ask the very questions I would have been tempted to answer here, but wont...

But I'll say one thing, in each and every individual I see today, I can definitely see both humanity and spirit, and I refuse to pass judgements on these, not because I have seen everything that is there to see, but because I haven't...

It is said that God watches everything and at the end, truth always triumphs. Well, I ask one simple question – why at the end ? Why not before that ? What kind of incentive system has He set up in which the good and right things are the most difficult to do, and are the most highly disincentivised, and vice versa ? What kind of systems wants the members to do something all the time, and helps them if the do exactly the opposite ? What is more important – Being good, or being smart ?You say something in Gita, Bible, Quran and all your religious books, and the actual world works in exactly the opposite manner ? And You hide from criticism behind the wall of unquestionability of your so-called profound wisdom – to understand which one is first supposed to accept and endorse it, and then, having committed to it, he doesn’t remain your critic or adversary any longer. Very smart, I say – but not right. Not good. And then they say, all good is GOD. Ya, ofcourse no one said God is all good !

Serenity and calmness. Two words to describe my state today. As if all commotion has been magically blocked out. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since yesterday. But I’ve felt so peaceful since I went to that temple yesterday, and had a nice drive on that deserted 4 km stretch of road, with cool breeze touching my face, stars and moon shining in that clear sky beautifully, and nature revelling undisturbed and unpolluted. Throughout that drive I was almost in a trance, loving every moment, so much so that I was really dissappointed when I reached more civilised parts. And ironically, the temple itself marked the beginning of human encroachment. It felt so good to almost realise again that however the destructive ability of humans may have grown, there are, at least as of now, still vast areas whose stillness and peace has remained undisturbed. How I would have loved to go for a long long walk on that road ! How wonderful those maiden fields looked ! Such a pattern in the seemingly random beauty of nature… such an organisation in the disorganised symbiotism on exhibit. Everything seems to be so much in place, so much belonging where it is. No discordant note anywhere, no sudden disturbances in the waves of the ocean, no unknown odours floating with the aroma of soil. Makes me remember a lot, and crave for a lot more. That is where I was born, that is where I belong, and that is where I’ll meet my end.

Everything is fair in love and war, they say ...

War kills thousands, and thousands live only for love...

But there are wars that gives lives to thousands, and there is love that kills many...

When a war is evaluated, people talk of the ends and the means. Why not in love ? Is love not a war ? And is all war not for something the people waging it love ?

And then they say everyone loses in a war, and everyone gains in love...

Ha!

What do they know of love or of war that of gains or losses think ?
What do they live that for the end live ?

An objective - a process - a desired outcome...

Is that all ?

Experience is the best teacher, they say. There are some things, it is argued, that can at best only be closely approximated in the mind by a process consisting merely of visualisation and fuelled essentially by imagination. Marriage, for example is considered well understood, at least as an institution. And yet, it is supposedly something that those who are either married themselves, or who have had a relatively long exposure of the institution can really understand, leave aside appreciate.
Old sayings, supposed to be the summarised results of centuries of wisdom, should be, at least in theory, be usable effectively as a proxy to self-experience, especially if used in conjunction with, and in addition to an anticipatory framework developed, both syntactically and semantically, on the basis of a logical analysis, and having a causal relationships based structure. In other words, based on a “what causes this ? “ questions as the core mechanism, and then a “what does this translate to ?” question as the mechanism to transfer the insights from the former to a model, giving you a set of things or events to expect or not to expect, as the case may be.
Though analytically sound, the above argument, however, makes some pretty big assumptions. For one, the ability of the model-developer to ask enough and the right kind of questions at both stages is assumed to be adequate, even if the adequacy as a relative evaluation is taken for granted for a moment. This is a dangerous assumption to make, especially if you are to base any decisions on the expectations derived from the model, not just because you may act on incorrect information, but also because most often you will not even realise the same, and therefore any undesired effects of your decisions are unlikely to be attributed to incorrect modelling, even at a latter stage. This means that there is a more than reasonable chance of your getting into a situation where you might keep looking for a problem where none exists, and perenially fail to be effective at all.
But of course, any engineer would immediately point out that there is a systemic design flaw, and in any case, there should have been a definite mechanism for feedback within the model in the first place. The problem with that, ofcourse, is that humans have not, as of now, discovered a way to beat time, and therefore every “feedback” is, really speaking, merely a “feedahead” in temporal terms. In other words, since you cannot use information from any feedback to reverse the effects of a decision you have taken in the past – at least not completely. This argument, in conjunction with the fact that all decision making in the end breaks down to answering a set of yes-no questions, complicates the entire process, because when you answer a yes-no questions incorrectly, the impact is likely to be much larger than that of an error you make in slightly under or overestimating a certain parameter – what I would call a grayscale error.
Another assumption in the suggested theory is even more obvious. It has been assumed that there is no information external to the model and affecting it, which is unknown at the time of answering the questions asked. This is a mammoth assumption, often not given due significance simply because we, in our typical human arrogance, believe that we have understood ourselves entirely, and therefore the combined and accumulated wealth of human knowledge should be enough to correctly answer all the questions asked at both the stages of the model-building process. This, we feel, is almost completely true especially in the case of social sciences, though we may concede some unknowns in the domain of physical sciences. Two major problems exist with this assumption. One is that our understanding of and interpretation of social sciences by itself is highly correlated with the progress we have made in grasping the physical truths of the universe. This is because every social phenomenon, behavioural trait, human characteristic, needs, wants etc. are explained, at the end of the day, using axioms from the physical and natural sciences, the the theory of evolution and the theory of chaos being striking examples of this dependence. Thus any changes in the theories of the physical world may any time shake the very foundations of the social theories, laws and frameworks. The second problem is that even if one accepts that we understand social sciences almost completely, the “almost” means that the entire question of uninhibitedly trusting the answers given on the basis of this knowledge is thrown open.
Exasperated though one may have been by so many problems raised in the preceding discourse, with no hint or intent of talking about a solution at all, I see one way, which, while not perfect by far, comes the closest to it. And to sum up the solution in a sentence, “Only a husband or a wife can truly know what marriage is.” . That is, I go back to feeling things instinctively without a deliberate effort at structure or analytics. Drastic though this may seem, even desperate to some readers, I take refuge in the fact that instinct, firstly, has a very small decision making window in time, i.e. instinctive decisions are taken for a very short future period of time. Simply put, this means that an instinctive decision is essentially only a “what just next ? “ and does not even seek to answer “what after that ? “ . This reduces, to a great degree, the damage that could be done by taking a wrong decision. Also, that makes feedback much more meaningful and relevant, as you can incorporate feedback very fast, sometimes in your very next action, as you are not committed at any point to any particular course of action.
The second justification comes from the fact that while we may not have theorized some of the physical laws at any given point in time, out instinctive feel of the way the physical world works is likely to be much more complete, having conditioned for much longer.
Ofcourse, I understand that there are at least five to six distinct objections to this idea which are well known and articulated. In the next part of this discourse, I am looking at making my stand about, hopefully, each of those and more, clear.