Friends of Words

Author: Swati

  • “Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?” – Yoda

    “Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?” – Yoda

    Star Wars has slowly and steadily crept into my hard drive and minimal wardrobe. It has taken decades to be where it is in my life, but I can safely say it is here to stay. 

    And more than anything else, it is because of Yoda. 

    Yoda is the grammar-agnostic voice of wisdom, one that makes both my heart and my vocabulary feel good about themselves. 

    The Star Wars franchise is laden with Yoda’s wise words, and I love that his advice makes its way past time and space to us earthlings.

    Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?

    Yoda says this in a conversation with Luke, who expresses dismay at his inability to lift his ship out of the swamp. 

    The ship’s too big. 

    Soon, Yoda lifts Luke’s ship out of the swamp. Yoda says it’s no different lifting a ship than lifting a rock.

    Fascinating stuff, really.

    Star Wars aside, I have always found telekinesis incredibly enchanting. 

    The first few scenes of the movie Birdman, when Riggan Thomson (played by Michael Keaton) was moving things around with his mind and levitating, got my heart racing, but not for long alas! 

    Just a few seconds later, they indicate it was all in his imagination. 

    Not that it’s a surprise; telekinesis, of course, is not real. Unless you are in the Marvel Universe or Harry Potter movies. 

    But the idea of having the objects come to you than you moving around to fetch them tells you loud and clear, who the boss is, no?

    Moving away from daydreaming for a minute, the idea of size not mattering is not new. History is replete with figures of authority that had short stature. 

    I can recall my middle school history teacher regularly citing Napolean as an influential figure, despite his short stature (by the way, he wasn’t that short either). 

    Maybe that was my teacher’s indirect way to… empower(?) the shorter kids in the class, who the taller, burly ones may frequently bully. Or it was simply him teaching us history. Whatever it was, it had a profound impact on me.

    If you removed size from the equation, the playing field was leveled, wasn’t it? In this new imaginary world of mine, the bully’s size didn’t matter, the length of your essays didn’t matter, your height didn’t matter, and your ‘assets’ didn’t matter. What an egalitarian middle school society! 

    I must have floated on that feeling for a solid five days until I witnessed a basketball match, by mistake, on my way to class. One of my friends, the shortest in the class, was playing basketball with some of my classmates. 

    It was painful for my eyes and my heart, the twenty seconds of her struggling to get to the ball. It broke my heart just a little bit.

    In what now seems like ages later, I chanced upon Yoda’s timeless wisdom, and that memory from childhood came rushing back. I was more mature now.

    Yoda (800 years old): Size doesn’t matter.

    Me: I know, this was life-transforming advice for me; big fan, big fan!

    Yoda: Judge me by my size, do you?

    Me: Of course not! Huge fan, now and always!

    Also Me (secretly): How about your age?

  • Why “Are You a Human” Tests Frustrate Us So Damn Much!

    Why “Are You a Human” Tests Frustrate Us So Damn Much!

    Oh, the joys of machines! ‘Intelligent’ machines! They certainly make our lives easy, don’t they? Be it work, pleasure or just cat memes, where would we be if there were no machines in the world!

    However, the machine that I like the most also gives me the most grief.

    Yes! The PC, what else!

    I must admit, though, it has pissed me off way more times than it has pleased me in the last decade. I don’t exaggerate when I say that I can barely make heads or tails of this artificial intelligence business. I almost always hear it with accompanied imagery of a dystopian world.

    I can’t say I don’t see the value; because I do. (Bordering on) Flawless translation algorithm(s), autocomplete(d) sentences, improved grammar suggestions, you name it. It has saved me time, lots of it.

    But now it has also started taking my time on stupid things. A lot of time.

    Gone are the days when a simple numeric code or voice message was enough to authenticate that you were a human. 

    Oh, how time flies! Now I am asked to prove that I am a human being way more than I like. The more profound existential question aside, I am a human. 

    But so many of these failed authentications during the day make me question my assumption.

    Machine: Tell us you are a human

    Me: How?

    Machine: What? You are so stupid! I will give you many meaningful pictures and ask you to identify random stuff. Stuff that any human being with average ‘intelligence’ can quickly identify.

    Me: Oh yes? Like what?

    Machine: Simple things like identifying traffic signals, I will give you pictures with traffic lights, some way more zoomed than others, and some that you can barely even see without a microscope. You are a human being; you invented me, you can figure it out, can’t you?

    Me: Umm…

    Machine: Well, if you can tell me the difference between stairs outside a building or a zebra crossing from 9 miles away, you are a human, of course!

    Me: Yeah, that doesn’t seem half bad; why don’t you try that one with me next time?

    Machine: Yes, sure if you say so.

    –la la la la la la…..

    anyrandomwebsite.com: Thou shalt not pass without proving you are a human.

    Me: Sure, show me what you got!

    After 1200 pictures and eight failed attempts to log in.

    Me: My friends were right all along. I am an alien!

  • If You Desire to be Good, Begin by Believing that You are Wicked – Epictetus

    If You Desire to be Good, Begin by Believing that You are Wicked – Epictetus

    I was roaming in the neighborhood library one day, glancing through the books on the shelves to pick one for reading. I noticed that the library folks had put up some quotes from famous personalities on the walls. Francis Bacon, Newton, and Gandhi were all featured. 

    As I head to check out my book, I notice another quote from Epictetus on the wall opposite me. This one by Epictetus – 

    If you desire to be good, begin by believing that you are wicked.

    My first reaction to that was slight confusion – given what wicked means in our times.

    A: Yo, did you finally get that Xbox S you wanted?

    B: Nope, I got an Xbox X instead.

    A: Wicked!

    Thankfully, my brain woke up and reminded me that Epictetus belonged to a time when wicked didn’t mean what it means today. So he must have meant that you must accept the belief that you are an absolute beginner at the craft you plan to master. Your slate needs to be wiped clean. You need to be comfortable being level zero. 

    That’s the only way to avoid your ego working against you. 

    Acquisition of true knowledge of any kind- has to start with humility and a sincere love of learning.

  • To Pee or Not to Pee – That is the Question

    To Pee or Not to Pee – That is the Question

    I love reading food reviews. They offer some simplicity in the overwhelming world of culinary experimentation and ubiquity. I wasn’t as much of a fan as I am now. 

    Since the pandemic struck and stopped the world, my love of eating out has been affected by paranoia. My risk appetite has reduced drastically. I no longer walk into a restaurant and hope the food is good. 

    I research beforehand and decide on which joint to go to, primarily based on reviews. It is not foolproof, I must admit – but on average, that approach has burned me less number of times than simply walking into restaurants randomly.

    So, I went to this cafe the other day; the reviews were decent. I placed an order before I had my ass touch the chair.

    They filled in water at my table right away – check

    They took little time to serve coffee and snacks – check.

    The waiter came to check everything was good with my food – check

    The coffee and food were good quality – check

    Ambiance – check.

    I was a happy camper – out and out. We had a great long chat – my friend and I. I also took that as a good sign, especially considering the depth of the conversation we had. 

    I say so because I have been known not to be able to manage anything, even close to that, on an empty stomach. Things were working out nicely.

    All that drinking and eating and chatting for two long hours was bound to lead to nature’s call. So naturally, I asked the waitress where the restrooms were. 

    What followed was a series of seemingly complicated instructions. I only registered the words – lock, code, basement, elevators, and hallway. I felt stupid asking her twice. So I set out on a hero’s journey – how difficult could it be?

    The first thing I did was go close to the elevators. Only because that’s the first thing I saw from the list of words that I could register. 

    Then I looked around to see if a door or a hallway could take me to one. Serendipitously, the hallway ended at the door. And good for me, it was not locked. So I open it and find a flight of stairs down. 

    The word basement came to mind. I walk down the flight of stairs and find another door. I open it, and bam! Janitor’s closet!

    Wasted effort, I thought to myself and seeing that I have reached a dead end, I had no choice but to walk back up.

    The idea of going up the flight of stairs to look for another door was daunting, having already established my top-notch listening/navigation skills. Going back and asking the waitress would expose how stupid I was to the waitress and my date. So, that was not an option. 

    The only other option is to clear the payment and run, like Forrest Gump, back to my apartment…where the washroom door is NOT LOCKED to a code.

  • Why I Used to Love Locks and Keys, But Now I Don’t

    Why I Used to Love Locks and Keys, But Now I Don’t

    I was reading a short story by O. Henry the other day- one where he talked about an expert thief. No safe in the world was immune to his talents, thanks to his excellent skill and expert toolbox. What a satisfying feeling it must be to have that power! 

    And to be very frank, I even daydreamed about me having that someday. Not to unlock any safe. Nope, I have no interest in that. 

    a meme about keys being lost in the car

    My reasons come from a relatively basic need – the need to be able to get into my apartment and my car. I would want that skill just so I would never have to worry about losing my keys, which I manage to do at least once daily. 

    I could probably develop AND follow a mechanism to not lose them, the same way Mr. Henderson could have a cat.

    OR, I can learn how to pick locks.

    It wasn’t always the same, you see. We had quite a relationship – the lock, key, and me.

    As a little kid, keys were quite a mystery to me. Came in all shapes and sizes, with different incisions and different hues of shiny metallic color. What was not to like? I looked at them in wonder and amazement. I knew that the day my mum let me hold one would be an unforgettable day of my life. It was years before I got to use them. I would beg my mum to let me open the locks. I would run up the stairs as if being chased by someone and get my dopamine dose of the day by click and clack of locking and unlocking.

    Keys were lots of fun. Until I became accountable for them.

    Fast forward a decade, I hated the sight of them – or the lack of them. 

    I would lose my keys almost every day. If I would ever find them, they’d be at the most obscure locations, thanks to a dreadful combination of my absent-mindedness and multitasking. Sometimes inside the freezer, the trash can, the fruit bowl, and the, worst of all, the back pocket of my pants! 

    “There has to be a solution to this madness,” I often thought.

    There are only so many times I can keep going to the same locksmith to remake my keys before he concludes I am a thief or reports me clinically insane.

    And that’s where the aspiring lockpicker persona takes over. I can learn to pick locks. Youtube has everything. How hard could it be? 

    Almost everyone in all the TV shows, or even movies, with anything to do with theft / breaking in requires some lock picking. Come to think of it, Never having to worry about where I kept (forgot) my keys is too damn titillating to ignore. 

    How hard could it really be? 

    All they seem to need is a hairpin, a metal wire, or even a dental floss, all of which are easy enough to keep in my purse. That and a good DIY, and I am good to go.

    It turns out I overestimated my skill again. If I couldn’t keep my keys in my purse, how could I imagine that I would remember to keep the wire, the hairpin, and the floss in the purse, either?

    No DIY instructions can save me, even if I can follow them, which is a reach. GPS keys are going to take some time to come. And I need to find a way to survive in the meantime.

    How about moving to a lock and key-less Mars?