The sutradhar of motion and happiness

One thing that I can say for certain is that people, wherever you put them, will always find a place favorite to them. A place where they can be themselves without having to wear a mask! Where they become who they are and not who they want themselves to be.

This story or you can say a scene is about that one place.

After a whole lot of soul searching, or to be precise a place to burn their lungs, the two idealistic young boys in their twenties had finally found a perfect place to vent out their frustrations through small, weak, half formed, half invisible, half desperate, half ambitious rings of smokes.

A buffoon can find himself a better place to smoke inside a construction site, but these two gentlemen had a tobacco head - all fidgety, moronic, filmy and inglorious bastards. After a week long search for a place to inconspicuously produce nicotine laced carbon monoxide, they found their safe haven - the back side of their construction office, a makeshift porta cabin.

In the first day of their discovery of that secret but not so secret place, there were only the Confederacy of sands but a week later they felt a sorcery of some sorts when the confederacy was changed to that of half burnt cigarette buds. But they decided to not mention about that sorcery to anyone,  else they might have had to suffer a witch hunting from their wicked Project Manager.

The scene is about one fine day, which was not at all a fine day in a filthy place called as the construction site. They took their respective self assigned seats on that place. Let's have a look at their conversations:

P: These cigarettes are damn cheap here. In India, it would have cost us our entire savings if we were to continue this ritual there.

S: Yeah...

It was evident that S hated the mention of price comparisons of anything available in their place of temporary residence to that in India.

P: (After a deep cancerous drag of monoxides)  Do you know what is happiness?

S: ( giving a smirk, as if he knew everything) No. What is happiness?

P: Happiness lies in not getting what you want to get! That is happiness!

S: Supposing you are a mad man, I can get what you are talking about.

P: Exactly. ( he reached his halfway mark of the very popular yet the unsaid rule of sharing a cigarette )

S: ( taking the agent of death in between his two fingers, like a Sharukh khan) Exactly what?

P: You see, if you get what you want then you become stagnant. You become stalled! Like a machine.

S: Like a machine? ( he coughed a little while saying that, whether the cough was in response to the madman's jargon or because of the sudden rush of carcinogens was not known, however)

P: Of course like a machine! You see that machine over there ( Mr. P picked up another stick of death while pointing to a big rotating machine whirling at a monotonous speed, a mile away from their place of burning of lungs)

S: ( he looked at the machine and then to Mr. P and then to the cigarette in his own hand which was about to meet its butt but said nothing about anything)

P: That machine is rotating because of the very fact that the speed of the magnetic field of the rotor cannot match the speed of the magnetic field of the stator. The rotor is the part which is rotating, and the stator is the static part of the machine.

Both have their own magnetic fields, just like the desires and ability of human beings. The rotor field always try to catch the speed of the stator field and that's why the rotor rotates, but, supposedly, the moment the rotor meets the speed of the stator field then it will stop rotating. It will become motionless. Dull. Purposeless. A void!

S: So, you want to say that we should push our ability to match the pace of our desires and if we meet our desires, supposedly ( he mimicked his accent, with a double quotation through his hands around the invisible word in the air), then we will become a void!

P: Yes. Yes. Oh my friend, you are damn smart. Freaking smart. Bless you my boy for that brain!

S: (like the Sharukhan of The Don, he flicked his cigarette bud at him and said) But you are a fool. That is essentially the cause of unhappiness. Remember the Buddha? The root cause of unhappiness is the desires.

P: ( Dodged the cigarette bud, pretending to be the Matrix movie guy) No. The root cause of unhappiness is the expectation of people on making their rotor speed equal to that of the stator field speed. That's not going to happen in their lifetime. When their very expectation is not matched they stop their rotor speed. They stop challenging their abilities. And this actually leads to the void of unhappiness.

S: Listen. I have had enough of your theories. Do me a favor and pass your stupid cigarette to me. And for the sake of that stupid machine, shut up for a second. Will ya?

P: (gave the maut ka sutradhar and nonchalantly looked at the sutradhar( agent) of motion - to the mighty Induction Machine.)


  1. A fitting analogy of human predicament in terms of rotor and stator. :D


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