Brown Motion

In global news the primate has been busy.  No I do not mean Trump.  I mean real versions that are a step below the Homo Sapiens kind.  Monkeys. There was national (as in America) debate when a mother (human kind) visiting a local zoo, distracted for a moment found her four year old had pulled a Houdini and escaped, landing straight into a Gorilla enclosure.  Said Gorilla was likely confused with the turn of events and decided to take matters (as in the said child) into his own hands. Once there it was perhaps going to sit and ask him 20 questions about his kind peering over the walls on a daily basis with stupid looks on their faces.  But the officials could not let that happen.  So they too took matters (as in a gun) into their hands and shot him.  The Gorilla.  Killed him. Saved the human species.  Or the child of the species.  Net result - uproar.  Twitter.  Facebook Big Media, Small Media et al. Then there was the mo...

In elementary school algebra we are taught about the X and Y axes and that their intersect is called 'The Origin'.  It is where two zeroes meet.  0,0.  Everything else is in relation to these two heroes.  You always want to be in the top right quadrant and not the bottom left.  Most management types you learn later in life build their whole careers on painting pictures based on this elementary concept when selling something. So it is with life.  You experience life as it happens on this planet and chart those experiences as being in one of the four quadrants.  I do.  Gives me something to do. So this trip to India was a good use case to chart I thought. For someone whose origins have shifted (me) in terms of life spent living equal parts in India (the first half) and post interval the second half in the self-proclaimed most powerful nation on earth (USA) which I dearly love, it was a difficult exercise to put each memo...

Before I left India I decided to get some much needed trimming done - of the hairy kind.  With that in mind I visited a modest establishment in Pune area in the midst of a middle class neighborhood. As I approached the shop it looked dark.  Inside.  But it was 3 in the afternoon.  So I pushed ahead and knocked on the door.  It swung open to reveal a man lying prone on a bench with a kerchief tied around his forehead. He promptly swung his legs down and indicated he was open for business.  Okay then.  I figured there would be light.  There was not.  He chose to operate in some sort of mood lighting that was the waning sun barely making it into the close quarters - inspite of all the reflective surfaces in front. So what is it going to be was his obvious question.  I told him I like it as short as possible with a pair of scissors and comb.  I did not see modern electric blades that my American barber would use.  He said he ...