cat

the cat is coming

end of an era

What is special about Sachin? He was of course a great cricket player. But there are other great players too. What separates Sachin from them? 
About five years earlier, I couldn't imagine an Indian team without Sachin. I couldn't believe that he could retire from cricket. An aura enveloped the ground when he came in to bat. When he got out, we turned off the TV. Whenever I saw the letters MRF, I remembered him. The name Sachin caused a burst of energy to run through my body. Ironically, the game of the the English instigated patriotism in many Indians and Sachin Tendulkar played pivotal role in the process. Every young boy idealized Sachin. Sachin was not a mere man for them. He was a symbol. For every boy , Sachin was himself. Or in him, he could see a future Sachin. If sporting capabilities only are taken into consideration, Sachin cant be called the greatest. But he was at the right place at the right time. He came at the time when the whole of India was searching for a national sporting hero. At once, he captured the imagination of a whole population. There was an Indian whom Indians could be proud of. He embodied the spirit of India- he was humble and yet bold, austere yet destructive, meek yet domineering. Never did a nasty word or a deed come from him; not from Sachin. He was as dedicated as a saint. This saintliness separates Sachin from other great players. Wherever he went, he kept his dignity intact. During his span of 24 years as a cricketer, he never for once got into bar brawl or came in news for licentious behaviour. When the match-fixing issue rocked Indian cricket, he  kept the faith of millions of fans. He never appeared in ads promoting alcoholic drinks. He probably knew the impact he had on kids. The country closely followed its icon through the years, his every dip in form, his injuries, his comeback: everything was subjected to precise analysis and argument. The whole country lamented at his every cheap dismissal and every house-hold passed through nervous moments once he crossed the nineties. His decision to retire came as a surprise to many, as a shock to many. But anyway,the timing was perfect. I doubt if such a farewell had been given to any sporting icon in any sport, let alone in cricket. 
Now is the age of ruthless cricket. The image of cricket as a gentleman's game is fast fading. The past generation cricketers are finding it hard to cope with the changing trend in cricket. Sachin epitomized the cricketing culture of his age. The age had fierce competition, but the players respected each other. Team members had deep mutual understanding. Playing for the country was their primary aim. Now-a-days, money rules cricket. Talent is of course more now, but talent is never polished and perfected; talent nowadays is not long lasting. By comparing Sachin and Virat Kohli, we can understand the difference between the two cultures. Virat is a very promising player. The record of Kohli now and the record of Sachin at Kohli's age reveals the class of Kohli. But Virat cannot possibly attain the stature of Sachin. 
By the retirement of Sachin, an era has come to an end. He is now a legend. As time passes, it gets bigger and bigger. A fifty years hence, we would be proudly saying to the coming generation that we lived in a time when Sachin played. He is a part of the country's psyche. I now remember the moments in my memories which was glorified the little great man and say from the bottom of my heart: Thank you Sachin!

a dilemma

Fear is one of the strongest emotions of people. Everybody has fear, I guess. Handling fear is one of the key skills in attaining success. So what is fear? It is generally explained an unpleasant emotion which is caused when one is threatened with danger, harm or pain. But this is a very straight-foreward and plain explanation. Emotions in humans often involves many dimensions because of the depth of human mind. The emotions often criss-cross each other, and sometimes the same experience can arouse conflicting emotions like joy and sorrow at the same time. Aristotle exhorted that an ideal tragedy must aim at generating catharsis, i.e. it must cleanse the mind of the spectator by arousing in him the emotions of pity and fear and thereby causing a purgation by the proper mixing of these emotions. This indicates that fear is a defining factor in the development of one's personality. As babies, we don't know what to fear. As children, we are taught what to fear by society and experiences. But we instinctively fear certain things like sudden loud noise, darkness, etc. As children grow into men, the object of their fear may change from one thing to another. 
People fear everything: death, cockroaches, insects, closed spaces, darkness, light, strangers, women, men,  failure, success, praise, criticism, fame, separation and what not. 


This fear takes many forms, sometimes very subtle. Fear of losing something by an action you do- for example, you like something very much, but you restrain from doing it because of moral pressure. Some of your dear ones want you to behave in a certain way. You behave like they say because you don't want to lose their love and want to stay with them. You once believed in their faith, but now it is no longer strong. Now a tug of war begins- between your likes and your loyalty to them. I believe you should have courage to put forward your views without hurting them. This is also a question of fear. You have the fear of losing their warmth. But other things have to be considered in this case too. You feel the pressure not because they coerce their views upon you, but you love them so much, and its you who actually force yourself, and put you in a dilemma. Clarity of thought is very important in such situations, which is actually very difficult once you enter into such a position. Such a position can be morally very testing and tiring, believe me. You have to compromise between two parts of yourself before it tears you apart.

my amateur flash work

some thoughts on God

All issues related to spirituality boils down to one question: whether there is God or not . Answers are many- yes, no, there are many, may be, probably yes, probably no, we need god,  i don't know, i don't care. Well, I too don't have any answer, I only have more and more questions.
Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Do you believe everything happen according to a plan? Or do things just happen, they don't need any specific reason? Just like the 'dog-chasing-cars philosophy' of the Joker in the film 'The Dark knight'? Does meaning exist only in people's minds, and there is no purpose as such to creation? Many people believe that if life has to have a meaning, they should live for something, for a reason, for a motive. The better the reason, the more meaningful the life becomes.

To many, science is the final word of man. It may not have found a complete answer to life, but it is definitely on track. These are some most probable arguments about the genesis of world: The Sun broke into fragments. One of the fragments formed the Earth. Earth got transformed over millions of years And when conditions became ripe, life appeared on earth in the from organic molecules. Single celled organisms formed, from them multi-cellular organisms formed, simplest creatures formed in water, and life started getting more and more complex. It spread to land, and fins of aquatic animals gave way to limbs. Various animals arrived, in various forms and shapes. Then life started progressing in various branches, each branch evolving in a different way. Many animals came, through various stages. Many species progressed, many species perished. And last, about 2.5 million years ago, came predecessors of modern humans. This is the most reliable explanation about earth and life mankind has produced.
Let me ask you an irrelevant question: do you believe you can become US president? Yous odds of becoming a US president are one in ten million. The odds of you dying in a lightning strike are 1 in 134,906. Now let us look at the odds of a life molecule forming by random chance.
According to Richard Peacock,"the calculation which supports the creationist argument begins with the probability of a 300-molecule-long protein forming by total random chance. This would be approximately 1 chance in 10³⁹⁰."
In percentage, it becomes 0.0000000000000000...(387 zeroes)1. When rounded, it approximates to 0%. 

So if one says God created man, you have no grounds to refute them.

Some people say they believe in God, but not in god-men. God-men are only impostors; they are either frauds or just some eccentric people who just believe they are special. People who follow them are all fools. Let me ask something: aren't there special people? Some people play cricket better than anyone else. Some have unparalleled leadership skills, some have great IQ, some can take their bodies to unbelievable extends. Some have unique mental abilities. Then why can't one have superlative spiritual abilities? History has shown that man can grow most in spiritual abilities rather than in other means. Just consider the most powerful names in human history : Muhammad, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Confucius .. you can spot many spiritual names among them. Don't get me wrong: I am not saying that they are all perfect or I personally uphold their ideas completely. But they show us that human achievements can reach greater heights.

Many people may not agree that there is such a thing called spirituality. There is no thing as soul. There is only mind and brain. If there is a soul, where can you locate it in the body? Well, a simple answer that can be provided is that spirituality may be the answer for 'why you live'. 

Freud has explained the journey of mankind from the time of its appearance on earth to the present day as a slight growth of spirit from dominant id to dominant ego(in his terms). Now, it may be speculated that this journey may continue till the spirit of man evolves to a new species of superman.

skin deep

Two days before,a child was  born to my sister and her husband. I went there to visit the new-comer. It was a baby-girl, and a beautiful one. My sister and her husband were having all sorts of discussions- ranging from how to lay the baby in bed and how to design the cradle, to setting her educational qualifications and even searching for her bride-groom! And then my sister said: "Thank god she is not black like my grandfather. I had a fear about that." A much debated unresolved question re-surfaced from the depths of my racial mind. A question regarding our racial hypocrisy. We are black. But we hate to admit that we are black. We admire being white(specifically, fair). We use a lot of cosmetics to become fairer. As little children, we do not care whether we are dark or fair(or do we?). From our childhood, we are fed by the idea that being fair is beautiful, and dark is ugly. Films, stories reinforce this thought very often. Many films involve situations in which dark-skinniness is used for evoking laughter. Dark students are ridiculed  in school. Parents advise children: "Don't be out in the sun, it will darken you." We have fair heroes and heroines. To be more exact, fairness has to be combined with other features: long nose, thin lips, tall  physique, straight wavy-swavy hair: such are our conceptions of beauty. Our girls like fair boys, our boys like fair girls. Is this the admiration of a slave for his master? A friend of mine told that many Asian girls in Europe fall cheaply for a European boyfriend, and they don't have an esteem for their own race. Is the case same here too?
 Even before the coming of Europeans, when the hold of caste system was stronger here, we had a coloured mind. Is the present prejudice an extension of our past self? It is likely that it is a combination of both and other factors. There is a malayalam saying which goes like :"forgetting to march when you see a sahib(Britisher)". (Sayippine kanumbo kavathu marakkuka.) This is a common attitude of Asians and Africans. Many Indians brag about having European friends, like it is a privilege. This can be a danger, making us lose our self esteem and pride. Cant we be dark skinned and happy?

Arguments of Satan

Arguments of Satan

These are the arguments of Satan which convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit, against the command of God. This rhetoric of Satan was one the factors which inspired William Blake to exclaim that Milton was of the Devil's party without knowing it.
After befriending  Eve in the guise of a snake, Satan started enticing her with  his innate charm. He took her to the fateful tree bearing the forbidden fruit. When Eve refused to eat the fruit at first, he started using his cunning to put forth his arguments in the most convincing way.

To Eve's remark that God had forbidden her and her husband to eat the fruit, Satan replied:

"Is it so? Has God declared you the supreme masters all this earth and air, and yet you are not allowed to eat this fruit? This tree is the mother of all knowledge. I can feel its power clearly within me. O Eve, do not believe these harsh threats of death. Look at me. I have touched and tasted this fruit, and still I have not died. on the contrary, I have attained a more perfect life. Even you know that this tree is named 'The Tree of Knowledge'. You are afraid because you think God will be angry at you. Will God's anger be provoked by such a petty act of trespass? Maybe God will praise you for your dauntless courage when even the threat of death could not stop you from achieving what might lead to the knowledge of good and evil. If it brings the knowledge of good, how can God be just by depriving you of it? And if it brings the knowledge of evil, you could easily shun it. God, therefore, cannot punish you and still remain just. If he is not just, he is no God, and is not to be obeyed. And if you are afraid of death, don't say that you are fearful of God.

To my thinking, by eating this fruit, you shall become as gods just as I, a low creature has become a man internally. Maybe God has used death in this sense: you may perhaps lose your human limitations and acquire the character of gods.This kind of death should be wished for. Gods came first, and they exploited our belief that all things proceed from them. If they created all things, who created the Tree of Knowledge, from which whosoever eats the fruit, acquires wisdom without their permission? What is the offence if Man acquires knowledge this way? How can our knowledge hurt him, or this Tree impart knowledge against his His will, if everything has been created by him? Or is this merely envy?

So friends, what points do you have to counter these arguments of Satan? 

 

muzaffarabad issue

Communal violence have subsided in Muzaffarabad. 27 people are killed so far. Each community has blamed each other for inciting the violence. Political parties took the role of the jackal drinking blood dripping from the two fighting goats. These riots that erupt once in a while are not separate singular occurrences. It is like volcano; the matter is fuming and boiling inside; it just needs an immediate cause to burst out. Aligarh, Meerut, Moradabad and Muzaffarnagar are areas where religious harmony is particularly fragile. Government repeatedly fails to curb the issue at its sprouting stage, when a few tight actions could have sufficed; and it is addressed only when it spirals out of control. The striking point is that the patterns of every communal clash are more or less the same: each party claims the other to have drawn the first blood, but nobody knows at first hand  what exactly is the cause; everyone has heard about the issue from another one.; each party has its own version of the story and claims to have the right to be indignant.; the local newspapers take partisan stands and spread stories that foment violence.; the government uses the issue only to suit their election needs.; there may be a person intent to use the condition to shoot up his political career. This is a routine. 
Isn't there any permanent solution for the issue? E.M Forster suggests a solution: Tolerance. Ours is a society where complete harmony is impossible in the present scenario. We are a multi-cultural multi-lingual society living so tightly close to each other. We cant love all others. The only alternative left is to tolerate; which is the next best option. We can't eliminate everything we cant accept., we just need to put up with those. In the present day world, nothing is completely right, nothing is completely wrong as well. Sometimes, what seems as the direct opposite of right turns out to be the right one. Hitler himself has proved that complete extermination of a race is impossible. As long as violence lays dormant inside the society, disputes and clashes arise- it is not because some are Hindus and some are Muslims; it is not because some are Sunni and some are Shia; it is not because some are lower caste and some are higher caste; it is not because some are Blacks and some are Whites. It is because we are human beings and we need to cleanse ourselves by passing through all these stages.

what's wrong with Indian men?

[The picture above shows the hostile treatment of a schoolgirl outside a pub in northern India. She came there that night with her friends who got drunk and started fighting. When people started gathering, they fled leaving her alone. Soon, male inquisitors surrounded her and started questioning and ill treating her. They started grabbing and pushing the hapless teenager.Her clothes were torn off, and she couldn't find any means to escape. Even passers by started to join hands with the aggressors in molesting the young girl. A TV reporter who passed by caught the incident on film and aired it on local channels and did nothing to save the girl.]  
This is a question that I often come across now a days. The recent spree of rapes all over the country has confirmed the precarious position of women in Indian society. This entry is not a definitive attempt  to delve deep into the causes and solutions of the problem. I am just trying to figure out the area where a few perspectives intersect.

One of my friends recently told me about her disgusting experience while traveling in a transport bus. She was a small child then. She and her mother got into a crowded bus(you know, typical Kerala Transport bus), and she was invited to share seat with two young men. That was the first encounter with the nasty 'neurotic' male behaviour. She didn't tell anybody about it that time. Later, when she came to know that her friends all had similar experiences, she knew that her's was not a rare case. So what actually is wrong with the people here?, she asks.Women are targeted everywhere- in buses, public places, roads, and even in places of worship. She exhorts everyone to give up silence and speak up. She suggests that if government can do nothing else to prevent rapes, it may legalize prostitution and set up sanctioned brothels to divert 'untamed male impulses' so that at least some children may avoid traumatic pasts.

Dileep, a bank job aspirant who hails from Kannur, says: 'Bitter punishment and strict enforcement are necessary if crimes are to subdue. There is no use in condemning society. Individuals make up society. In instances such as the Delhi rape case, the aggressors should be castrated. This will serve as a deterrent from any such future attempts.'

Kavya, a civil service aspirant, says: 'The problem is inherent in menfolk, even though a few cases involving women are reported. We have heard about reports of fathers raping their daughters. Ever heard about a mother molesting her son? That says it all.' She sounded like a fierce feminist.

Midhun, a psychology graduate, views the issue through an analytic eye. The matter of sexual exploitation is a multifaceted one. Generally, the mentality to 'rape' or 'violate' may have roots in repressed desires or expressions which have not found an outlet. 'Unexpressed emotions never die; they're buried alive and come forth later in uglier ways. In other words, weakness or incapability is the chief reason behind many instances of sexual perversion. This may be inaccessibility to ways of sexual gratification, or  belief that one cannot satisfy one's partner and resulting loss in self confidence, or repression owing to pressure of society, etc.'
'Setting up of lawful brothels is one way to reduce the occurrence of rapes' , he says.

Another boy, who confesses having groped a girl in bus, says; 'Society is the culprit. We were framed to this kind of mindset. From my childhood, I have grown seeing films in which women are presented as objects to be enjoyed. In my formative years, I got this message from peers, TV programmes, advertisements and elders. The poems of my language contained descriptions about women physique. Being a man was being rude, strong and forceful.  My friends boasted to me about touching a girl and kissing a girl. Initially, I thought it was bad, but gradually I fell into the groove. I have even heard a girl telling with approval: 'boys should be a little mischievous'. In my school days, the 'naughty' boys got everything they wanted. I got jealous of them. Now when I see a beautiful girl, I see it as someone's asset, a thing to be possessed. Society taught me so.'
saying so, he put the entire blame on the society.

To what extent will women-only buses, banks, sites and places help? What do you think? 

Whatever analyses we make, whatever steps we take, we cant hide the darkness of our collective psyche.Time and again, it tends to show up. Surface patching doesn't cure cancer. The story of rapes goes on.

lets talk

1. Resmi says:"Our culture has imposed on many of us, different sets of rule and restrictions which we knowingly and unknowingly are bound to follow. For instance, if we take in to account the rules imposed on our women in deciding what and how to wear the clothes..  I heard from a spiritual class that women have to wear decent dress other wise it can draw attention of  men towards us and that will create  a lot of trouble.    As a non resident Indian, here I am free to wear whatever I like and I feel more safe  than in my own country.  No one made a wrong gesture or nobody tried to do any wrong thing to me since.  Most of the days I came home by 10 pm after my class. In our country I really fear to enter and  crowded bus .  I was travelling to Tamilnadu by train in a general compartment.  I was sitting opposite to a short man.  His 4 year old daughter is sitting in his lap and  his wife was in an adjacent seat.  After some time he kept his  foot on my foot. At first I thought that it was an accident so I didn’t care.  Next two or three time he repeated that I gave him a sharp look then he removed his foot with flirty smile .I never expected a man who was his wife and daughter sitting nearby do something like this. . I know from one of my good friends during my college days that when a girl moves about in front of boys, they will discuss about her measures after she passes. Is this our culture?  Will girls ever do like this or even think like this?"

2. Gireesh says:"I would like to give a reply. First of all, I am not trying to justify rapists. Rape is a crime and rapists should never be pardoned on any grounds. But , I think the following points are worthwhile in this discussion.
@ 'Will girls ever do like this or even think like this' #lol are you kidding?!. Maybe the person who wrote this is 'very special' one of a kind girl. And all her female friends are 'special' too, or simply lying!  
Next, about culture. You asked why men ogle or target women. Because that is how men had evolved over generations. Let me ask: who uses cosmetics and beauty-enhancing creams more? Women. Who use ornaments generally? Women. Generally, women are more beauty conscious than men. Why? Women make themselves up to attract men. This motive may be almost an unconscious one, or just a part of their inherited tradition. This is the way women are evolved, whatever the reasons they say. Of course, the trend is changing.But the tradition is still present in our genes. More often we won't admit it. Human beings are more sexually evolved than any other animal. The evolution of breasts in women is an example in point. In all other animals, breasts serve the only purpose of feeding the young ones. But in humans, they have more sexual significance. Women use them to signal their sexual health; use them to attract males; and fondling them may arouse sexual stimulation in humans, unlike in other animals. Men have also evolved in accordance with these developments in women.
The next question is about men making undue sexual advances. This question comes along with the above point. In primitive societies, if males wouldn't willingly donate sperms, it was difficult for propagation of the species. Females could do nothing if the males weren't attracted.That may be the primary reason why nature made males sexually more aggressive. The differences in attitudes of both sexes that we see today(e.g. women forming the weaker sex, increased visual stimulation in men) owes its origin in primitive societies..
Next comes cultural and regional differences. You said you felt less vulnerable as a NRI. Let me tell you, a lot of factors influence the general attitude of public. In Trivandrum, if you are a female, it is unsafe to be out after 9'O clock. But in Bangalore, girls in tight T's and skin-fit trousers may be seen walking about in the city alone or in groups even at midnight."
3. Sabari says: "This kind of male chauvinistic attitude is the main cause for the growing rape culture in our country. Recently, in a survey conducted by 'Partners for Prevention', a regional joint programme of the UNDP, reveals that nearly one out of four Asian men admitted to having committed a rape. Many of them, as the person above, seem to believe in sexual entitlement- the belief that some men are entitled to sex regardless of consent. I have only one thing to say. Friend, primitive men ate raw meat. Does that imply that we eat raw meat too? Man, we are living in a civilized society. Here people have the right to live freely and peacefully. If you have impulses, find a way to gratify them in a socially approved manner, without hurting anybody. Many of your arguments are stupid. You say women adorn themselves to attract males. This is downright stupid. It is more a matter of making yourself presentable, agreeable and clean. I don't think sex has anything to do here. Attitudes like yours are borne by potential rapists."


 

liked this song when i used to watch WWE.

It's all about the game, and how you play it
All about control, and if you can take it
All about your debt, and if you can pay it
It's all about pain, and who's gonna make it...

I am the game, you don't wanna play me
I am control, no way you can change me
I am have heavy debts, no way you can pay me
I am the pain, and I know you can't take me

Look over your shoulder, ready to run
Like a good little bitch, from a smoking gun
I am the game, and I make the rules
So move on out, and you can die like a fool
Try and figure out what the move’s gonna be
Come on over sucker, why don't you ask me?
Don't you forget there's a price you can pay
'Cuz I am the game and I want to play

It's time to play the game...

psc topics discussion

Those of you who are preparing for competitive exams may visit here:
http://geneupsc.blogspot.in/p/history.html

Let's make learning an interactive experience. Feel free.

height of positiveness

(an entry from the diary of a schoolboy)
Woke up at 6 a.m.

Wasted time by studying, doing exercise and sleeping.

Went to school.

Got punished.

Got the results of two previous test papers; failed.

Today's exam was no better.

On the way back, had puffs from G&G Bakery.

It was a nice day.

thought for the day

thought for the day
If you want something, ask.
If you are shy to ask, buy.
If you want don't like charity, earn it.
If you don't have money, make money.
If you can't make money, be damned.

Don't tell with pride that you can't ask someone to help you. That is not a merit. That means you don't have the skill to communicate. That shows your lack of confidence.

inside-plays

These are some secret thoughts of one intimate friend of mine. But trivial.
1. This friend recites evening prayers with his family everyday. He sometimes droops while reciting. He feels embarrassed when his family members catch him in the act. So he actually enjoys to see his father dozing off while prayers too. Maybe this is because if they complain about his sleep, he too has an arrow in his quiver. Maybe he wants to continue dozing off while prayer everyday, and is doubtful in the act of prayer itself. But the thing is that he actually enjoys see his father drooping, and even tries to encourage him. Secretly.
2. He hates his brother watching films all the time. But when he is at  the computer, he watches films all the time. He hates to watch with his brothers films of their choice. But when he watches films, he wants his friends or brothers to join him, and enjoy the film situations with them. But he will not do the same when others are watching. Cant figure out the reason.

argument's sake

This is an argument between my friend and me.

how much do previous experiences affect behaviour?

Experiences mould behaviour.  Are experiences totally necessary?

Experiences are inevitable in formation of behaviour. But that should mean that particular experiences are necessary for a particular behaviour, shouldn't that?

How can it be? The same experience may affect a different personality type in a different way. Then that follows that personality types are more important than experiences.

Personality types are people. If the same type of people get different experiences, they grow differently. But for a particular behaviour, the personality type is dominant over experience.

What is personality type? A person's inherent behaviour(genes), which includes his tastes, and a collection of other traits which occur together in him consistently.

Then there must be as many personality types as there are people. Awful-strictly speaking, yes. But if it were, they wouldn't be called 'types'.

Can you validate your view 'personality type is dominant over experience'? The example of Srinivasa Ramanujam is sufficient, isn't it? The 'experiences', or the circumstances for him to grow as a mathematician was practically nil. He had almost no formal training in pure mathematics. Still, before he died at the age of 32, he had already done enough to become one of the greatest names in world mathematics. Maybe this is called 'vasana'(propensity).

That is not an example of personality type. That is only an exception among personalities. But doesnt that show that experience is not necessary when it comes to pure propensity?

If people become something according to their 'propensity', then you say that people become who they are according to their propensity. Don't you think that at least in some  cases, experience overpowers propensity and distorts it? Cant negate that. Experience and inclination works hand in hand for the development of a personality.

Then doesn't that follow that experience dominates propensity then?  One's inclination or one's bent may use any experience for its development. But when there are unfavourable circumstances, they may remain dormant. Anyway you are talking about distortion, aren't you?

Can't experiences create an inclination? Means one steals first, approves the act and then becomes a habitual thief?

Do you think that people are born thieves owing to propensity? Maybe.

So you think people become thieves and policemen and army men according to their propensities, dont you? I certainly wont say that, but I say some people may have a born inclination to steal, or to fight, or be morally upright.


But you just accepted the fact that sometimes experience may be the most determinant factor in behaviour formation. So what? Fuck you!

Fuck you too!! 

(to be continued)

                                     WORLD'S TALLEST CAKE OWNS TO CHINA

  

China took 20 chefs and more  than 24 hours to make the world's tallest cake in Luoyang  (China).

It composed of eight layers, it stands at eight metres height. It's weight is 2000kg.The cake was baked using 500 eggs ,100kg fruits,260 kg flour,200 kg cream and nearly 80 kg chocolate.Each layer was supported by metal plates .And the cake was shared among about 3000 peoples.

Previously the world record for world's tallest cake was 7.8 metres in Paris.

food security bill

Food Security Bill- What I Understood

Food Security bill is the new move by the central government to make the Public Distribution System more effective. Presently, the distribution of commodities to BPL card holders is going on in a more or less straightforward manner. This is convinced by the steady decrease in the number of persons below poverty line. But a lot of provisions aimed to the APL people are wasted, hoarded or black marketed just because the people are unsure as to what exactly their provisions are, and in what quantities. Ration shop owners make profit by retaining these commodities and selling them of to other shops. Such practices can be curbed using food security bill. By executing the new bill, government is planning to allot 5 kg grain to every individual, rather than 25 kg grains per family. But one of the criticisms against this is that this makes public distribution system more centralized. Although there are some demerits, the good effects of the bill seems to outweigh its negative effects. On the whole, the new bill could be very much appreciated in the Indian society.

A friend of mine told the following  to me. Just for fun's sake. Nothing personal. 

Who said Allah is God? Muhammad said! 
Who said that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah? Muhammad said!
Is Quran God-given? Who said? Muhammad said!
From where was acquired the matter in Quran? From Jibreel! And who said that? Muhmmad said!
Who is Jibreel? An angel of Allah! And who said that? Muhammad said!
Who said to believe firmly in Quran? Allah said! And who said that? Muhammad said!
Did Muhammad see Jibreel? Who told? Muhammad said!








What if what Muhammad lied? Muhammad does not lie.
Who said? Muhammad said.


This said, another thing is that nobody takes pain to check whether Muhammad was right or wrong. Simply jesting is very easy.

What happened in Abbottabad?

America's military assignment in Abottabad, which killed Osama Bin Laden code-named Operation Neptune Spear, leaves too many a question unanswered. America unilaterally designed and executed the operation, which left Pakistan in an embarrassing position. Here are a few questions.

• Is Pakistan, which is one of the few nuclear powers of the world, so incompetent? Neither did its intelligence agencies figure out the whole operation(or did they?) nor did the state detect foreign helicopters enter its boundaries and carry out a military operation so close to its nerve centre.
• Osama Bin Laden very successfully hid himself 9 years in Pakistan. Accurately, his den was outside Kakul military academy, only 68 miles away from capital Islamabad. ('The den' was actually a palace like building.)Abottabad is a place so exposed that a man so important as Osama cannot be expected to live in complete anonymity. This naturally brings the following suspicions.
• One of the hypotheses is that Pakistan may have protected him for 9 years and then, because of insecurity or some dissension, Pakistan might have betrayed him. This means that America might have got invisible support from Pakistan. If Pakistan openly took part in the operation, Islamic forces  would have wreaked havoc in the country. Pakistan is recognized as a safe haven for international terrorists.
• Pakistan initially lauded the operation, soon the real sentiments came out from the skin. Pakistan people in general felt outraged by the action of America. More than the humiliation of finding a wanted terrorist in its own backyard, what resented them was the so called 'back-stabbing' action by USA. Pakistan has till now took a stand of denial in the case of Abbottabad, and has never shown the mind to address serious questions regarding Pakistan turning to a global jihad centre. Many Pakistanis believe that the death of Laden was 'a bad thing'.
• Another explanation is that Pakistan is displaying much public indignation to avoid other countries (yes, India) and probably America emulating the May 2 operation in future.

Go India Go

Indian cricket is at its best. It seems to have acquired the winning habit- just when Sachin, Dravid, Laxman, Zaheer and other great names disappeared from the ranks. Was it purely coincidental? Or was team India carrying these burdens for too long? Or did the stature of their names set such high standards that the newcomers were pressurized to rise to their standards? Whatever be the case, everything is happening right for team India. And for Dhoni.

                      Dhoni is the best thing that happened to Indian cricket in recent times. Gifted with unique leadership qualities, Dhoni is arguably the best finisher of the game now. The cool demeanor of Dhoni unnerves any opposition in any stage of the game. With the twenty-20 world cup, 50 overs cup and champions trophy, and the recent tri-nation cup in his pocket, Dhoni and his team looks hungry for more. 

                      Whatever the controversies, IPL has had an important role in shaping up the present team. It is a platform where the  inexperienced but talented players have an opportunity to prove their point. The only prize which now eludes the team is the number one spot in test rankings. Hope Dhoni and his men soon pocket that one too.

Gender bias in Indian films

Film forms a non-neglectable part of cultural life of India. Not for nothing is Bollywood the largest film-producing industry in the world(in terms of numbers). More than 800 films are brought out in Bollywood each year, and an average of fourteen million people (whoop!) go to movies on a daily basis. Those among us who haven't gone to a movie and enjoyed the experience form a microscopic minority. This brings us to some questions to be pondered over the subject.
Film forms the most popular media of creative expression in our country. So it ought not cause an individual to deviate from the moral line, if not cause a man to be morally better, say the 'art for man's sake' proponents. It is a debate in itself, but let us go further into the subject- the portrayal of women in films.

                  Lets take a general view of women in Indian films. Who is considered as an ideal woman in our films? Traditionally, an ideal woman is one who keeps herself 'pure'. Description- she should keep her chastity untouched for one man, her man; she should confine herself willfully within the patriarchal prescription of 'a woman's position' in a society. For example, we can identify a 'bad woman' or a 'woman-antagonist' in a film just by observing the way she is portrayed. Normally, she may be wearing tight jeans and apparel, she may be smoking a cigarette, she may be domineering over her spouse, and she would definitely be bold and self expressive. And whenever a woman transgresses the boundaries prescribed by men, the director makes sure that she pays the price. Another common stereotype found in films is that when a good woman falls, like when she loses her purity when someone(villain) rapes her, she must be killed despite her innate goodness, so that the hero of the story escapes from being bond to an 'impure' woman. There are several such instances in Tamil and Hindi films.

But in case if it is the hero who rapes the actress, she tries to win him as husband, because since she is now impure, nobody will accept her according to the directors, and it is her necessity to make him his wife. The recent hit Ranjhaana has also invited some criticisms on this point. The film states indirectly that it was the fault of the lead female to be in close proximity of the hero, and thus inspired his romantic fascinations, though she only had friendly intentions. Had she stayed away from him, she would not have caused him to love her. It is like saying that had the rape victim stayed in house, she would have escaped from being raped.

   Other things observable in Indians films is the position of the heroine subservient to the hero, exhibitionism of heroines, the shorter span of star-status of heroine compared to the hero, etc.

    But we cant condemn the films alone for bias in it. Films draw heavily from reality. They are but a part of our cultural heritage. What they do is to reinforce certain notions. An action film doesn't normally motivate a guy to take up an AK 47 and kill all his adversaries. But he wold really be enjoying the idea when he watches the film.

       The growing prominence of feminism means that there are two kinds of films: women-centric and others. We may have to wait for our films to evolve, and so must our society, when sexism is abolished and both sexes can perform freely for the general improvement of mankind.

Sathasivam appointed new CJI

Supreme court judge P. Sathasivam appointed as the new Chief Justice of India. Sathasivam succeeded CJI Altamas Kabir. President Pranab Mukherjee administered the oath to Sathasivam at Rashtrapati Bhawan. He will remain in office tillApril 26, 2014. He sworn as the 40 th Chief Justice of India.
 Justice Sathasivam delivered the verdict in the controversial triple murder case of Stains and upheld the conviction of Dara Singh. On 19 April 2010, he delivered the judgement in the Jessic Lal Mueder Case. Other major judgements include the Mumbai blasts case and that of  pakistani scientist Mohammed Khalil Chisti.

UN - certain questions

Editorial, The Hindu, July 19, 2013 discusses a question: Is United Nations racist? Ramesh Thakkur, a former senior UN official himself, thinks so. Most of the top posts of the UN are held by Westerners.The UN is cynical about non-Europeans occupying its important offices because, Ramesh says, probably they are prejudiced about Asians, or Africans- or non-Europeans for the matter- are incompetent and inefficient.In other words, they think that others are racially inferior to the Europeans. But this can be understood as a myth, if we are are open to study the examples from the real world.
Asians contribute about 60% of the world population. But the representation that the whole of Asia has in the senior staff of the Secretariat is roughly equal to the number of representation for two countries: Canada and the U.S.-which constitute just 5% of the world population. A striking point which Ramesh puts foreward  in the context is that wouldn't we be outraged if the top two posts of the U.N women were men? Then how come the developing countries raise no voice against the double standards set by their developed counterparts? The disputing answer he comes to is that the developing countries have come to terms with the inferiority imposed upon them.Maybe the point was already clear when Ramesh put towards the beginning of his discourse that Sergio Vieira de Mello, one of the brightest UN officials, was 'more European than most Europeans'. The unconscious servility of our collective racial mind may have unintentionally found an expression in these lines.

http://www.heritage.org/research/reports/2013/04/us-must-demand-transparency-and-accountability-in-appointment-of-top-level-un-officials
This is an article by Brett D. Schaefer, the Jay Kingham Fellow in International Regulatory Affairs at Heritage's Margaret Thatcher Center for Freedom. This is a point in his aritcle: 
"Indeed, it is widely recognized that certain senior positions are coveted by certain countries or regions, and that the Secretary-General often appoints candidates proffered by certain nations, or groups of nations, to specific USG and ASG positions.Senior officials appointed by the General Assembly cannot be removed by the Secretary-General without that body’s consent."

some black and white thoughts

America is believed to be a 'free country'. Discrimination against blacks was believed to be a thing of the past. But the acquittal of Zimmerman from the murder of Trayvon Martin has brought back the racist psyche from the era of slavery. It appears to be clear as daylight the fact that Zimmerman had shot Martin dead. But he was judged 'not guilty' in the verdict . This has created feelings of distrust and insecurity in the minds of people who are not so bright in colour.

quotes

Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.

Voices From Solitary: A Sentence Worse Than Death

Voices From Solitary: A Sentence Worse Than Death

MAR. 18, 2013 

By SOLITARY WATCH

This article originally appeared on Solitary Watch.

The following essay is by William Blake, who has been held in solitary confinement for nearly 26 years. Currently he is in administrative segregation at Elmira Correctional Facility, a maximum security facility located in south central New York State. In 1987, Blake, then 23 and in county court on a drug charge, murdered one deputy and wounded another in a failed escape attempt. Sentenced to 77 years to life, Blake has no chance of ever leaving prison alive, and almost no chance of ever leaving solitary — a fate he considers “a sentence worse than death.”

This powerful essay earned Blake an Honorable Mention in the Yale Law Journal’s Prison Law Writing Contest, chosen from more than 1,500 entries. He describes here in painstaking detail his excruciating experiences over the last quarter-century. “I’ve read of the studies done regarding the effects of long-term isolation in solitary confinement on inmates, seen how researchers say it can ruin a man’s mind, and I’ve watched with my own eyes the slow descent of sane men into madness—sometimes not so slow,” Blake writes. “What I’ve never seen the experts write about, though, is what year after year of abject isolation can do to that immaterial part in our middle where hopes survive or die and the spirit resides.” That is what Blake himself seeks to convey in his essay. —Lisa Dawson

-JvL-

“You deserve an eternity in hell,” Onondaga County Supreme Court judge Kevin Mulroy told me from his bench as I stood before him for sentencing on July 10, 1987. Apparently he had the idea that God was not the only one justified to make such judgment calls.

Judge Mulroy wanted to “pump six buck’s worth of electricity into [my] body,” he also said, though I suggest that it wouldn’t have taken six cent’s worth to get me good and dead. He must have wanted to reduce me and The Chair to a pile of ashes. My “friend” Governor Mario Cuomo wouldn’t allow him to do that, though, the judge went on, bemoaning New York State’s lack of a death statute due to the then-Governor’s repeated vetoes of death penalty bills that had been approved by the state legislature. Governor Cuomo’s publicly expressed dudgeon over being called a friend of mine by Judge Mulroy was understandable, given the crimes that I had just been convicted of committing. I didn’t care much for him either, truth be told. He built too many new prisons in my opinion, and cut academic and vocational programs in the prisons already standing.

I know that Judge Mulroy was not nearly alone in wanting to see me executed for the crime I committed when I shot two Onondaga County sheriff’s deputies inside the Town of Dewitt courtroom during a failed escape attempt, killing one and critically wounding the other. There were many people in the Syracuse area who shared his sentiments, to be sure. I read the hateful letters to the editor printed in the local newspapers; I could even feel the anger of the people when I’d go to court, so palpable was it. Even by the standards of my own belief system, such as it was back then, I deserved to die for what I had done. I took the life of a man without just cause, committing an act so monumentally wrong that I could not have argued that it was unfair had I been required to pay with my own life.

What nobody knew or suspected back then, not even I, on that very day I would begin suffering a punishment that I am convinced beyond all doubt is far worse than any death sentence could possibly have been. On July 10, 2012, I finished my 25th consecutive year in solitary confinement, where at the time of this writing I remain. Though it is true that I’ve never died and so don’t know exactly what the experience would entail, for the life of me I cannot fathom how dying any death could be harder or more terrible than living through all that I have been forced to endure for the last quarter-century.

Prisoners call it The Box. Prison authorities have euphemistically dubbed it the Special Housing Unit, or SHU (pronounced “shoe”) for short. In society it is known as solitary confinement. It is 23-hour a day lockdown in a cell smaller than some closets I’ve seen, with one hour allotted to “recreation” consisting of placement in a concrete enclosed yard by oneself or, in some prisons, a cage made of steel bars. There is nothing in a SHU yard but air: no TV, no balls to bounce, no games to play, no other inmates, nothing. There is very little allowed in a SHU cell, also. Three sets of plain white underwear, one pair of green pants, one green short-sleeved button-up shirt, one green sweatshirt, ten books or magazines total, twenty pictures of the people you love, writing supplies, a bar of soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, one deodorant stick but no shampoo, and that’s about it. No clothes of your own, only prison-made. No food from commissary or packages, only three unappetizing meals a day handed to you through a narrow slot in your cell door. No phone calls, no TV, no luxury items at all. You get a set of cheap headphones to use, and you can pick between the two or three (depending on which prison you’re in) jacks in the cell wall to plug into. You can listen to a TV station in one jack, and use your imagination while trying to figure out what is going on when the music indicates drama but the dialogue doesn’t suffice to tell you anything. Or you can listen to some music, but you’re out of luck if you’re a rock-n-roll fan and find only rap is playing.

Your options in what to do to occupy your time in SHU are scant, but there will be boredom aplenty. You probably think that you understand boredom, know its feel, but really you don’t. What you call boredom would seem a whirlwind of activity to me, choices so many that I’d likely be befuddled in trying to pick one over all the others. You could turn on a TV and watch a movie or some other show; I haven’t seen a TV since the 1980s. You could go for a walk in the neighborhood; I can’t walk more than a few feet in any direction before I run into a concrete wall or steel bars. You could pick up your phone and call a friend; I don’t know if I’d be able to remember how to make a collect call or even if the process is still the same, so many years it’s been since I’ve used a telephone. Play with your dog or cat and experience their love, or watch your fish in their aquarium; the only creatures I see daily are the mice and cockroaches that infect the unit, and they’re not very lovable and nothing much to look at. There is a pretty good list of options available to you, if you think about it, many things that you could do even when you believe you are so bored. You take them for granted because they are there all the time, but if it were all taken away you’d find yourself missing even the things that right now seem so small and insignificant. Even the smallest stuff can become as large as life when you have had nearly nothing for far too long.

I haven’t been outside in one of the SHU yards in this prison for about four years now. I haven’t seen a tree or blade of grass in all that time, and wouldn’t see these things were I to go back to the yard. In Elmira Correctional Facility, where I am presently imprisoned, the SHU yards are about three or four times as big as my cell. There are twelve SHU yards total, each surrounded by concrete walls, one or two of the walls lined with windows. If you look in the windows you’ll see the same SHU company that you live on, and maybe you’ll get a look at a guy who was locked next to you for months that you’ve talked to every day but had never before gotten a look at. If you look up you’ll find bars and a screen covering the yard, and if you’re lucky maybe you can see a bit of blue sky through the mesh, otherwise it’ll be hard to believe that you’re even outside. If it’s a good day you can walk around the SHU yard in small circles staring ahead with your mind on nothingness, like the nothing you’ve got in that lacuna with you. If it’s a bad day, though, maybe your mind will be filled with remembrances of all you used to have that you haven’t seen now for many years, and you’ll be missing it, feeling the loss, feeling it bad.

Life in the box is about an austere sameness that makes it difficult to tell one day from a thousand others. Nothing much and nothing new ever happen to tell you if it’ a Monday or a Friday, March or September, 1987 or 2012. The world turns, technology advances, and things in the streets change and keep changing all the time. Not so in a solitary confinement unit, however. I’ve never seen a cell phone except in pictures in magazines. I’ve never touched a computer in my life, never been on the Internet and wouldn’t know how to get there if you sat me in front of a computer, turned it on for me, and gave me directions. SHU is a timeless place, and I can honestly say that there is not a single thing I’d see looking around right now that is different from what I saw in Shawangunk Correctional Facility’s box when I first arrived there from Syracuse’s county jail in 1987. Indeed, there is probably nothing different in SHU now than in SHU a hundred years ago, save the headphones. Then and now there were a few books, a few prison-made clothing articles, walls and bars and human beings locked in cages… and misery.

There is always the misery. If you manage to escape it yourself for a time, there will ever be plenty around in others for you to sense; and though you’ll be unable to look into their eyes and see it, you might hear it in the nighttime when tough guys cry not-so-tough tears that are forced out of them by the unrelenting stress and strain that life in SHU is an exercise in.

I’ve read of the studies done regarding the effects of long-term isolation in solitary confinement on inmates, seen how researchers say it can ruin a man’s mind, and I’ve watched with my own eyes the slow descent of sane men into madness—sometimes not so slow. What I’ve never seen the experts write about, though, is what year after year of abject isolation can do to that immaterial part in our middle where hopes survive or die and the spirit resides. So please allow me to speak to you of what I’ve seen and felt during some of the harder times of my twenty-five-year SHU odyssey.

I’ve experienced times so difficult and felt broken and loneliness to such a degree that it seemed to be a physical thing inside so thick it felt like it was choking me, trying to squeeze the sanity from my mind, the spirit from my soul, and the life from my body. I’ve seen and felt hope becoming like a foggy ephemeral thing, hard to get ahold of, even harder to keep ahold of as the years and then decades disappeared while I stayed trapped in the emptiness of the SHU world. I’ve seen minds slipping down the slope of sanity, descending into insanity, and I’ve been terrified that I would end up like the guys around me that have cracked and become nuts. It’s a sad thing to watch a human being go insane before your eyes because he can’t handle the pressure that the box exerts on the mind, but it is sadder still to see the spirit shaken from a soul. And it is more disastrous. Sometimes the prison guards find them hanging and blue; sometimes their necks get broken when they jump from their bed, the sheet tied around the neck that’s also wrapped around the grate covering the light in the ceiling snapping taut with a pop. I’ve seen the spirit leaving men in SHU and have witnessed the results.

The box is a place like no other place on planet Earth. It’s a place where men full of rage can stand at their cell gates fulminating on their neighbor or neighbors, yelling and screaming and speaking some of the filthiest words that could ever come from a human mouth, do it for hours on end, and despite it all never suffer the loss of a single tooth, never get his head knocked clean off his shoulders. You will never hear words more despicable or see mouth wars more insane than what occurs all the time in SHU, not anywhere else in the world, because there would be serious violence before any person could peak so much foulness for so long. In the box the heavy steel bars allow mouths to run with impunity when they could not otherwise do so, while the ambient is one that is sorely conducive to an exceedingly hot sort of anger that seems to press the lips on to ridiculous extremes. Day and night I have been awakened to the sound of the rage being loosed loudly on SHU gates, and I’d be a liar if I said I haven’t at times been one of the madmen doing the yelling.

I have lived for months where the first thing I became aware of upon waking in the morning is the malodorous funk of human feces, tinged with the acrid stench of days-old urine, where I eat my breakfast, lunch, and dinner with that same stink assaulting my senses, and where the last thought I had before falling into unconscious sleep was: “Damn, it smells like shit in here.” I have felt like I was on an island surrounded by vicious sharks, flanked on both sides by mentally ill inmates who would splash their excrement all over their cells, all over the company outside their cells, and even all over themselves. I have went days into weeks that seemed like they’d never end without being able to sleep more than short snatches before I was shocked out of my dreams, and thrown back into a living nightmare, by the screams of sick men who have lost all ability to control themselves, or by the banging of cell bars and walls of these same madmen. I have been so tired when sleep inside was impossible that I went outside into a snowstorm to get some sleep.

The wind blew hard and snowflakes swirled around and around in the small SHU yard at Shawangunk, and I had but one cheap prison-produced coat on and a single set of state clothes beneath. To escape the biting cold I dug into the seven- or eight-foot high mountain of snow that was piled in the center of the yard, the accumulation from inmates shoveling a narrow path to walk along the perimeter. With bare hands gone numb, I dug out a small room in that pile of snow, making myself a sort of igloo. When it was done I crawled inside, rolled onto my back on the snow-covered concrete ground, and almost instantly fell asleep, my bare head pillowed in the snow. I didn’t even have a hat to wear.

An hour or so later I was awakened by the guards come to take me back to the stink and insanity inside: “Blake, rec’s over…” I had gotten an hour’s straight sleep, minus the few minutes it had taken me to dig my igloo. That was more than I had gotten in weeks without being shocked awake by the CA-RACK! of a sneaker being slapped into a plexiglass shield covering the cell of an inmate who had thrown things nasty; or the THUD-THUD-THUD! of an inmate pounding his cell wall, or bars being banged, gates being kicked and rattled, or men screaming like they’re dying and maybe wishing that they were; or to the tirade of an inmate letting loose his pent-up rage on a guard or fellow inmate, sounding every bit the lunatic that too long a time in the mind-breaking confines of the box had caused him to be.

I have been so exhausted physically, mental strength being tested to limits that can cause strong folks to snap, that I have begged God, tough guy I fancy myself, “Please, Lord, make them stop. Please let me get some peace.” As the prayers went ungranted and the insanity around me persisted, I felt my own rage rising above the exhaustion and misery, no longer in a begging mood: “Lord, kill those motherfuckers, why don’t you!” I yelled at the Almighty, my own sanity so close to being gone that it seemed as if I were walking along a precipice and could see down to where I’d be falling, seeing myself shot, sanity a dead thing killed by the fall. I’d be afraid later on, terrified, when I reflected back on how close I had seemed to come to losing my mind, but at that moment all I could do was feel anger of a fiery kind: anger at the maniacs creating the noise and the stink and the madness; anger at my keepers and the real creators of this hell; anger at society for turning a blind eye to the torment and torture going on here that its tax dollars are financing; and perhaps most of all, anger at myself for doing all that I did that never should have been done that put me into the clutches of this beastly prison system to begin with. I would be angry at the world; enraged, actually, so burning hot was what I would be feeling.

I had wet toilet paper stuffed hard into both ears, sock folded up and pressed into my ears, a pillow wrapped around the sides and back of my head covering my ears, and a blanket tied around all that to hold everything in place, lying in bed praying for sleep. But still the noise was incredible, a thunderous cacophony of insanity, sleep impossible. Inmates lost in the throes of lavalike rage firing philippics at one another for even reasons they didn’t know, threatening to kill one another’s mommas, daddies, even the children, too. Nothing is sacred in SHU. It is an environment that is so grossly abnormal, so antithetical to normal human interactions, that it twists the innerds of men all around who for too long dwell there. Their minds, their morals, and their mannerisms get bent badly, ending far off-center. Right becomes whatever and wrong no longer exists. Restraint becomes a burden and is unnecessary with concrete and steel separating everyone, so inmates let it go. Day after day, perhaps year after year, the anger grows, fueled by the pain caused by the conditions till rage is born and burning so hot that it too hurts.

Trying to put into words what is so unlike anything else I know or have ever experienced seems an impossible endeavor, because there is nothing even remotely like it any place else to compare it to, and nothing that will do to you on the inside what so many years in SHU has done to me. All that I am able to articulate about the world of Special Housing Unit and what it is and what it does may seem terrible to you indeed, but the reality of living in this place for a full quarter of a century is yet even more terrible, still. You would have to live it, experience it in all its aspects and the fullness of its days and struggles added up, to really appreciate and understand just how truly terrible this plight of mine has been, and how truly ugly life in the box can be at times, even for just a single day. I spent nine years in Shawangunk’s box, six years in Great Meadow’s, and I’ve been here in Elmira’s SHU for four years now, and through all of this time I have never spent a single day in a Mental Health Unit cell because I attempted or threatened suicide, or for any other reason. I have thought about suicide in times past when the days had become exceedingly difficult to handle, but I’m still here. I’ve had some of my SHU neighbors succumb to the suicidal thoughts, though, choosing death over another day of life in the box. I have never bugged out myself, but I’ve known times that I had come too close. I’ve had neighbors who came to SHU normal men, and I’ve seen them leave broken and not anything resembling normal anymore. I’ve seen guys give up on their dreams and lose all hope in the box, but my own hopes and dreams are still alive and well inside me. The insidious workings of the SHU program have yet to get me stuck on that meandering path to internal destruction that I have seen so many of my neighbors end up on, and perhaps this is a miracle; I’d rather be dead than to lose control of my mind.

Had I known in 1987 that I would spend the next quarter-century in solitary confinement, I would have certainly killed myself. If I took a month to die and spent every minute of it in severe pain, it seems to me that on a balance that fate would still be far easier to endure than the last twenty-five years have been. If I try to imagine what kind of death, even a slow one, would be worse than twenty-five years in the box—and I have tried to imagine it—I can come up with nothing. Set me afire, pummel and bludgeon me, cut me to bits, stab me, shoot me, do what you will in the worst of ways, but none of it could come close to making me feel things as cumulatively horrifying as what I’ve experienced through my years in solitary. Dying couldn’t take but a short time if you or the State were to kill me; in SHU I have died a thousand internal deaths. The sum of my quarter-century’s worth of suffering has been that bad.

To some judges sitting on high who’ve never done a day in the box, maybe twenty-five years of this isn’t cruel and unusual. To folks who have an insatiable appetite for vengeance against prisoners who have committed terrible crimes, perhaps it doesn’t even matter how cruel or unusual my plight is or isn’t. For people who cannot let go of hate and know not how to forgive, no amount of remorse would matter, no level of contrition would be quite enough, only endless retribution would be right in their eyes. Like Judge Milroy, only an eternity in hell would satisfy them. Given even that in retribution, though, the unforgiving haters wouldn’t be satisfied that hell was hot enough; they’d want the heat turned up. Thankfully these folks are the few, that in the minds of the many, at a point, enough is enough.

No matter what the world would think about things that they cannot imagine in even their worst nightmares, I know that twenty-five years in solitary confinement is utterly and certainly cruel, moreso than death in or by an electric chair, gas chamber, lethal injection, bullet in the head, or even immolation could possibly be. The sum of the suffering caused by any of these quick deaths would be a small thing next to the sum of the suffering that this quarter-century in SHU has brought to bear on me. Solitary confinement for the length of time that I have endured it, even apart from the inhuman conditions that I have too often been made to endure it in, is torture of a terrible kind; and anyone who doesn’t think so surely knows not what to think.

I have served a sentence worse than death.