The gods are angry with me, again.

I usually call out to them, praise them, and propitiate them, asking for forgiveness for my misgivings and shortcomings. I usually do this after I take a bath, whatever time of day it might be. This is important, because I have broken free of the natural urge to sleep when the moon ascends and bathe and break fast when the sun rises. I haven't placated them in the last two days, though.

'Why?', one might ask. It's Voyager, I was so involved in watching as many episodes of it as I could, I forgot my prime duty to the divine. I pay the price now. I realise the futility of human existence now. I realise the insignificance of my rantings now. Gone, gone is the ego that I am this and that. Partly responsible for it is the virulent outbreak of the Third Person Syndrome that Satyen was cursed with by the Snow Goddess of Princeton, but even if it weren't for that, this day would have befallen me.

How the planets would move into position at this precise moment, only providence can tell. But all those who don't believe that the Gods connive and deal retribution for laxness, do so now! Today was Id-ul-Fitr, a public holiday. Knowing that all offices would be closed, my network went down at precisely 1800 hours yesterday, 30 minutes after the administrator's office had closed. I shrugged. Fine, I'll survive a day without the network, without the internet, without my mail, without my blog. I couldn't. So I rushed to Cyph's room and used his computer.

I should have sunk to my knees and realised that the sequence of events that the Gods had set into motion would cascade into something massive. But I didn't. I kept watching Voyager, doing the very same thing that had distracted me from my duties, being bewitched by Kate Mulgrew and her smile, munching on Mister Potato Crisps, wild garlic flavour. I returned to my room, and it is then that the gravity of the situation dawned upon me. I was homeless, penniless and without a fresh shirt on my back. My room mate had locked the room and gone to Orchard, my own set of keys has been missing for quite a while, and the Hall Office where from I could procure a third set was closed on account of the Id. I was trapped.


A quick call to my room mate revealed that he wasn't going to return till 0100 on saturday. Now it is 0410 on saturday, and he yet hasn't returned. He had better be attacked by the transvestites who frequent Orchard Road after dark or something, otherwise I am going to be really mad. I bunked in Cyph's room yesterday night and the whole day today. I need a bath, a change of clothes, and a mobile phone charge-up. I have suffered enough, I believe. I beseech thee, ye Gods, make my room mate return on the wings of the wind, with the shining key to the room in his hand, I wish to sleep in my own warm bed with my pillows.

Warning: Esoterica. If you haven't seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, do not proceed. For those who have, you know better than to get yourselves vapourised, don't you?

Anyway, in the programme, Discovery of India [yeah, the one where Roshan Seth hammed as Nehru], you must have heard the Hiranyagarbha Sukta in the theme, albeit everything but the first line is merely a Hindi translation. I reproduce the first line here, in English.

Hiranyagarbha, in the beginning, He was the one lord of all that was, and that which was born,
He upheld the earth and the heavens, what God should we adore with our offerings?

I never really understood the meaning of this verse, since the hymn is directed to 'What?', as if 'What?' is a God!
But then, this other verse made things clearer. It's the last verse in the Naasadiya Suukta:

He, from whom this creation has arisen, did he create it or did he not?
He, who presides over the deepest stretches of space, must surely know it, or perhaps he does not.


Dear Werner, where is the electron? I suddenly find myself at peace.