The 30 minutes with MoP 332

 

He is neither a Member of Parliament not in the Ministry of Personnel. Sometimes you may chance upon him in bylanes or at times can see him through his window. Each type of sighting is a story in itself. 

He is a CAD (coronary artery disease) patient, and his interventional cardiologist had advised (prescribed) a vigorous walk of 30 minutes every day, after inserting two stents and billing a sizeable chunk of money. Dripping with Kindness, he had also included a caveat 'or as tolerable' for the walk. 

MoP is methodical, in this regard. First forms and opinion and then goes about avoiding that person. He has an aversion to meet with and talk to people, while on a task. He considered it as a waste of time and they in turn deemed it as a wasted kindness. More or less, it left MoP alone, but for a few leashed and stray dogs who have not yet received or acknowledged his message. He could not attribute a reason for this canine behaviour, but being wary of them getting too close to him without broadcasting their noble intentions, he avoided them to the extent possible. So, the bylanes in the locality became his haunt.

For another inexplicable reason, the strays lounging there ignored him completely. The 30-minute vigorous walk had become a sore point in his life, as his better half taking matters in her own hands had pasted xerox copies of the doctor’s prescription on the walls of the house. To him it looked like cinema posters of yester years without featuring the faces of actors. MoP, unable to decide which, leashed or stray dogs, had more itching teeth to bite, bravely ventured out for the prescription walk. This kind of uncanny interest shown by the canine tribe, had forced him off the main road and into bylanes.  

He did not realise that he was the reason for this near miss episodes. New to ‘this heavy exercise’ he was panting like the dogs do after a run and this must have angered them. Had he chosen, he could have befriended them with 'kibbles' or 'nibbles'. Since he considered them as a waste of his money, the canines have almost decided to taste the flesh on his calf muscle by way of their reply. 

His 30 minutes prescription walk, in the bylanes, went on smoothly for a few days. On a fine day, literally the weather was cool & breezy, this was about to change. The stray dogs by instinct exercise strict control over their territory. Transgressions are met with bared teeth, jiu jitsu, judo and kung fu postures as if they had choreographed Jet Li, Bruce Lee, Tony Jaa and Jackie Chan for their fight sequences. Somehow through their bared teeth and chorus barks, a newcomer evicted from another bylane had gained entry and simply pretended to be asleep. Though they are stray dogs, they do have some honour codes. They don't bark at the sleeping dogs! 

A few days of this play acting gained that new stray dog its permanent residential rights. Though MoP had been seeing that sleeping dog, he never suspected it to be a new entrant. As usual, on that day, he resumed his 30-minute routine from a particular point which ended near the tree. The newcomer, on his own sleep-won rights, had made that same tree as his operating base. The newcomer snarled, bared its teeth and raised a racket without even bothering to get up. This racket brought all other stray dogs rushing to the spot to join the party to feast or watch the drama from the sidelines.  MoP did not pause to analyse. 

The 30-minute walk was for maintaining his heart in good health. If he could not safeguard his general health, then what was the fun in doing that 30-minute thingy? He, our MoP, decided to take his walkathons to indoors. He immediately recognised the latent benefits in this decision. The twin problems of meeting with the unpredictable stray dogs and facing the bothersome people got solved in one fell swoop. 

Since he was fully committed to implement the doctor's advice without let or slip, the xerox copies of the prescription stuck on the walls found a safe haven in the waste basket. Irritants and MoP shared a peculiar sort of umbilical connection. Either he finds them or they confront him.! 

Mercifully, MoP was unaware of this family lore - his mother got constantly irritated, till his birth, by the happenings in the womb. She had decided he was solely responsible for all the discomforts she had endured. 

Due to his walkathons in the house, his better half decided and supplied a fresh stock of irritants.  He barrelling down and she unwittingly coming in the opposite direction on some chore or the other, resulted in an accident almost once during that 30-minute period, every time he walked.   

The sudden brake applied, like the pneumatic variety hissing and sounding in anger, started taking the knee joints to relaxants and pain killers. To be on the safer side, she started to wear a helmet and knee guards inside the house, while MoP went on nonchalantly walking his minutes to his heart’s content. 

This physical discomfort apart, to vent her simmering anger, she burnt some telecom spectrums to share her agony by passing out ‘he runs marathons inside the house itself' sort of comments.  

Agony did not disturb him, but the comments became the new set of irritants. After designating them as occupational hazards, he continued the 30-minute routine with a little more vigour. 

Those who have missed him in the bylanes have now become happier - the dogs need not unnecessarily rake their brains to decide whether to bite or chase or not and the people, with whom he never engaged, deciding on ‘ignoring is better than recognition' salve. 

The curious ones - man and stray dog, confirmed his well-being by watching him through the windows! In the meanwhile, once again taking matters in her own hands, for the sake of her own well-being, she had secretly got an appointment to plead with the interventional cardiologist to alter the prescription regarding the 30-minute walks. If that is not possible, will he kind enough to make it strictly an outdoor thingy! To make it stick, he could also add a line about oxygen level in the blood stream. 

By the way, who is this MoP?

None other than Matter of Perspective! Or should he be called ‘Materia de perspectus’ as he had unfulfilled dreams to learn Latin.

The backyard bird watcher 330

His knowledge about avians is limited to birds having beak, wings, necks, head of different types and choice of colours and those that feast on food starting from grains to fishes via insects and worms. He knew the hummingbird prefers nectar as starters and non-veg as the main course. He saw no point in laying a claim as an ornithologist. But he used to avidly watch birds in flight, vainly trying to identify their ilk. The stark truth was that he was unable to distinguish between a crane and a painted stork or an eagle from a falcon, barely managing to differentiate a crow from a raven. Like the pessimist, he did not see only the half-empty glass!

Habitually, he walked either looking at the ground or craning his neck to spot a bird through the leaves and branches of trees. His grandchildren, when being walked back from school bus or to board the bus, never missed the chance to make fun of this. To tease him a bit, they will suddenly shout, "Look there, a sparrow on that branch" where none was really there! 

Pranks notwithstanding, he continued with his habit. All this was about to change, and the day was on hand to prove his bird-watching mettle, to spread its wings and boost his credentials on way to becoming a sort of a backyard expert. When unknowingly, an unknown species of bird played a decisive role, he grabbed the chance with both hands. 

Why his hands? The arena set for the unfolding episode had its roots in his name-sake garden and particularly on the shaky "pandal" he had erected for a climber or creeper he was not sure. 

Why is the unknown species of bird scheduled to play that decisive role? 

He routinely sprays and sprinkles water to keep the leaves clean, to help the plants to efficiently convert sunlight, water and oxygen into food. His grandmother’s words echoed in his mind, “Food in the stomach is strength and growth." and he exhorted his plants to follow it. But to his dismay, they refused to be strong and grow as he desired them to. 

That day morning he managed to take a video of a group of this unknown bird noisily discussing some issue by flying in and out of the backyard (balcony) through the handrails. Little did he realise, at that time, that the discussion was about taking over (squatting) a spot for a pair to raise a family. He could not find the reason why that many birds came to select one spot! A day later, the matter resolved itself when a would-be mother bird flew out, when he was drenching the leaves of the climber/creeper with water. Of all the places in the area, this bird has chosen his pandal to build a nest. Only by chance, he stumbled upon the bird's initial handwork or rather its beak's work! He wondered, whether by design or chance, the bird had chosen a spot at the 'pandal', abutting a wall and under the big leaves of the money plant to use them as a roof, come shine or rain! 

Piqued by interest, he did an on-the-spot inspection by lifting the leaves of a money plant. It revealed the initial preparations afoot, for building a nest. Intent on converting this opportunity brought by the bird (Bulbul or Drango or Magpie without red patch) in to a study project, he decided to closely follow the nest building process at frequent intervals, like time-lapse photography.  A snide thought occurred to him, “This nest – builder being a squatter on his rickety pandal, why should he take its permission to intermittently inspect the progress?”

Before he could progress any further, his grandson came to his rescue by confidently identifying the bird as a bulbul with pictures. One picture showed a Red-vented Bulbul (Pycnonotus cafer) as a medium-sized, common songbird readily distinguished by its scaly dark brown body, black crested head, white rump, and a distinctive crimson red patch under the tail, known as the vent and seen in urban areas and gardens. The other one was a Red-whiskered Bulbul (Pycnonotus jocosus) having a small, bright red patch of feathers on its cheeks (or "ear coverts"), right behind the eye, often referred to as "red whiskers".

To leave his grandfather in confusion, he opted out by saying, “among the two, you decide which is your bird" For good measure, he added this fun fact before signing off -There are 166 species in 32 groups. Confronted with such proof, he decided to accept but with a small doubt - is the grandson becoming a confidant or a competitor? 

As a worrywart, he had many regarding the bird’s project. Meticulously he posed questions and tried to answer them too. Where from the bird will bring the needed material.? Careful follow up and watching revealed the source from which the bird was meeting its material requirement. The coconut tree in the neighbouring garden! 

Why the summertime to undertake this project.? His answer was in the freely hanging down, dried out, brown fibrous sheet-like material attached to the coconut tree! Cleverly or intuitively, the bird had chosen the nature’s bounty and unlimited access to make short length fibre strings. 

How the bird was able to take out the fibres in the form of short strings? He detected the well-hidden processing unit amidst the fronds or foliage of the coconut tree. What processing method it employed at this hidden unit? By constant surveillance, he unveiled the secret. The bird, sitting royally on the hanging piece of burlap- like cloth, held one of the sides firmly in its beak and vigorously jerked its head a few times to separate a few fibrous strings. Then using its very own avian version of GPS, it unerringly landed on the handrail, flew under the bamboo sticks to reach the building site. 

He could not help but worry about, where in its tiny brain the architectural plan lay open for easy reference? Furthermore, he worried whether the architect had envisaged contingencies and changes as per site conditions and materials availability? 

Using these fibrous strings and the bigger leaves of the money plant, it managed to construct the retaining walls for the proposed nest. It got busy by spreading and tamping the short fibres into desired shape along the already formed outer boundary to form an open, conical cup. Painstaking and being happy about it, the bird undertook hundreds of sorties to and from the coconut tree, to build its own hatchery cum nursery before laying an egg or two. This bird’s care and love for the yet to be laid and hatched eggs was truly off the charts for any kind of empathy! 

By now, his grandchildren have become fledgling ornithologists without binoculars. They started making spur of the moment decisions to have a look in to the nest whether eggs have been laid or not. He had to restrain their enthusiasm as it might undermine the bird’s confidence and move away to another location to start building another nest from scratch. This possibility saddened them and their visits to the backyard almost ceased.

He hit the pause button in the narrative on reaching a fork in the road. Unable to decide which fork to take, he played it safe and let the narrative to take both the right and left hand of the fork.

This happens, if he took the right turn:

After a spell of thunderstorm, he went to the backyard to assess the condition of the pandal, after the downpour. He was surprised to observe what looked like a shift change. While one bird entered the pandal and another left the scene. He confidently concluded that egg or eggs have been laid and the roster duty had started for the brood. Feeling so sure, he was willing to lay a bet on his pandal.

Anxiety and curiosity raced against each other, wishing the birds to declare the result because he did not know how long the wait would be. The grandchildren shared the suspense with him now and then, as they had other worries to manage like schoolwork and sports activities. 

Losing count of elapsed days, he chose to wait and watch the birds, taking turns to feed the nestlings. If lucky he might even hear the noise of the nestlings from the nest. He would be happy to know from anyone one of the indications, that everything has gone on well for the birds. Soon he was rewarded with high-pitched, rapidly repeated, and frantic noises of the nestlings, reminding their parents' that it is past feed time. 

As the days rolled by, their insistence became more strident as hunger pangs became stronger. The harried parents might be wondering when, though they knew exactly when, these racketeers would become fledglings and fly the coop! If that day comes, the nest would be vacated and he would be left feeling sad wondering whether the same birds once again would choose the same nest, after touch-up works or build one anew! 

This happens, if he took the left turn: 

When the expected events did not unfold, he, the worrywart, started to run different scenarios in his mind. Partly to signal the birds to give one more chance and morely to console himself. He could only visualise what could have transpired and to what end. 

The frequent inspections and animated talks near the nest site scared the mother-to-be bulbul. When she almost decided to forget it, there was a raucous birthday party that sent soundwaves, that shook the rickety pandal. At that point, she must have had a hurried consultation with her mate. The mate, probably wary of another location scouting, hunting for building materials and the labour involved, might have tried to downplay the issue and pleaded for patience.  

The mother-to-be had other pressing issues besides the disturbances - safety and the imminent arrival of eggs. She knew it better than her mate. Just any temporary nesting place will not do and it was imperative that they do something, anything to face the crisis. The male bird hit upon a solution to double down and build a new nest, in a location they had earlier considered and kept as an option. He would bring the materials and she could build the nest. This way, he must have reasoned out that, in half the time they would be able to build a new nest without over-straining. 

Quickly reaching agreement, they might have acted upon this plan. Eggs might have been laid and they might have taken turns to brood and later feed the nestlings. Their hectic schedule would have come to an end when the fledglings flew out of the nest. 

After about a month, while walking back from the school bus, they happened to witness the fledglings getting out of the nest. The grandfather knew instantly that he had missed the rare chance to complete his backyard project like he had dreamt. 

When the narration reached the other junction where the forks met, once again his grandson came to the rescue – “Grandpa, don't worry, the window of opportunity ends in September, and we are only in the month of April. These birds would definitely come back to make use of the nest in the backyard.” Whether they would leave the other nest and come back to his backyard or not, he decided to end his backyard project. Though, he had this uncleared doubt – whether the would be mother builds the nest before or after selecting a suitor? Or is it the male bird that goes through this ritual? 

The spirit of Dr. Salim Ali, the "Birdman of India" felt happy that this backyard bird watcher had come very close to gain a firsthand experience of the nesting habit of bulbul from his spindly pandal! The “spirit” was awestruck by the fact that this bird watcher had embarked on his project not even knowing the bird’s identity to start with!

Operation Zero Balance 341

 The simple query raised by a reader set him thinking, why not?  

The Pulitzer, Booker and Nobel Prizes involve an individual's time, toil and energy. A reader's review is no less, involves invaluable time and unbudgeted energy. ghost accounts in our banking system must have frightened the reader to ask some disturbing questions - Are we lacking in a bold Kuber like controllers and an equally responsive Brahma like minds, to tackle this menace? At the end of the review, the reader had left a thought as a gift, “why fghosts are not pressed into service in our ecosystem!” To such a reader, I owe this 'thank you' write up.  

I wired my due appreciation to Brahma, Kuber and the fghosts, the roles played in the earlier write up. 

As usual, Narada had pitched his tent on the Himalayas and from there hovered over different parts on Earth. The never-ending conflicts, wars, famines, political upheavals, natural and man-made disasters along with Science & Technological advancements almost challenging the Creator, filled his chronicle. Laden with this brief, Narada was ascending towards Dev Lok, concluding the periodic visit, to report to his father - the Creator. 

Of all the things, hitherto undetected human traits stumped him, puzzled him and worried him. One was the proclivity to hoard wealth beyond lawful means, need and the audacity to hide it in plain sight and yet remain invisible (ghost accounts) to the Authorities. Number two was the degraded political system, where a new compendium on hate speech is being produced, like a runway nuclear reactor gone rogue. The coined words are so vitriolic, even the pages are ashamed and afraid to get printed with them. Narada mused. “Before hearing them, Brahma will have to heavily protect his ears, against leaching!" 

Sensing Narada’s intent to request for a rectification mechanism, Brahma's heads started ringing the alarm bells. Speaking in unison they said, “Amassed wealth and the compendiums of hate words are like Hydras with tentacles of Octopus.  In Dev Lok, inviting allegations of involvement, on account of righteousness is forbidden and banking on deniability is the only operative word. Distance yourself. Give a hint to Narada to meet with fghosts to do what he needs to do. Anyways, Narada is known for creating tumult that ends well for all”. Brahma, wary of the traps accepted this unanimous opinion and the safe escape route. 

The moment, Narada appeared before him, Brahma said, “I know the contents of your brief. Some of the fghosts are waiting for you in the garden. Discuss your concerns with them. Don’t put me in the picture and I don’t want to be anywhere within hearing distance. Right now, my hearing functions are going off-line.” 

Narada, though felt disappointed about not getting his planned family time was, understood that deniability overrode comradery. Taking his leave, he went in search of the fghosts to get acquainted with them, wondering where in heaven, Brahma had sourced them? Where is Chitragupta, who could shine some light on this different kind of staff under Brahma! 

Straightaway, Narada briefed the fghosts, “These account holders are cyber-smart, synthesise fake Identity with stolen real identities and supplemented with fake information to easily open ghost accounts. They have capability to manufacture fake documents of any type of any country. Like the Voice Over Internet Protocol (VOIP), protocols exist between operators to help out each other.  There are black sheep grazing in the banking system itself, willing to flag dormant and dead accounts. Such accounts attract fraudsters, like honeybees to the flowers, looking to turn them into "ghost" or mule accounts to carry out non-legitimate transactions. 

After seeking clarifications and hearing explanations, the fghosts joined the discussion with their view point, “Their impunity implies that, the regulators are outsmarted and out gunned, wielding only toy guns such as KYC (Know Your Customer) and AML (Anti-Money Laundering) and standing dismal chance of weeding out these fraudulent elements and their ghost accounts. Are we right?” 

Expressing their willingness to help, they asked for time to have a group discussion before coming up with a plan. 

Narada cleverly masking his impatience & doubt, asked, “how do you cut a diamond?”  Before he could close his lips, the fghosts replied, “What else? Only with another diamond!”  

He left them saying, “Then find that such a diamond quickly and be back.” 

After hearing their concise assessment, Narada knew that Brahma had chosen these fghosts on merit. Wondering, how could they so quickly grasp the situation, he remained on standby to see the diamond they will come up with, to end the menace.  He had a personal stake – The Earth has almost become his home away from home. 

He was surprised, when the fghosts returned with not one but three diamonds. He guessed that the fghosts have decided on a blitzkrieg to hit hard instead of dealing out soft punches. 

“We need to create a unique island offering unique offshore accounts, via only the dark web.”

“We need to create a set of nano ghostobots to let in the banking system.”

 “We need to create a set of nano ghostobots to let out among other networks”. 

“One set of nano ghostobots to pervade the banking system, to spy and identify the black sheep and the ghost account holders. The trap will be set by engineering the transactions to bounce through many accounts and after hitting the stratosphere get credited back to the same account. The alarmed ghost account holders will run to the black sheep in the bank. Careful monitoring will identify the black sheep who helped to create the mule accounts. The follow up clandestine confabulations will help in further confirmation.” 

Another set of nano ghostobots will surf the network of cyberites, who prop up these ghost and mule account operators. 

Narada had a doubt - how this would be of help?

The fghosts said, “Pardon us for being blunt. When you are in doubt, what do you do?"

Consult someone.

Exactly. The operators, not satisfied with the local help in the bank, will rush to consult the cyberites. With constant surveillance, we can trap both the helped and the back-end supporters. 

Narada asked, "Then what is the need for the unique island, offering unique banking facilities and the dark web?" 

“Are we not trying to snare sharks and whales swimming in financial frauds? By nature, these cyberites and ghost account operators suspect everything, even their shadows. To allay their doubts and inject confidence, we have to create an awesome and inspiring set up. Why dark web? When there is no light, no shadows! Do you go out for fishing without lures?  Project Island will be that mega lure!” 

Now, Narada understood the logic of mounting the blitzkrieg style attack. He readily agreed to facilitate the Project Island, by roping in external experts. Luckily, he had exclusive permission to access Chitragupta’s secret diaries and knew which souls to call. He set to work after sending a thank you vibe to Chitragupta. 

His first choice fell on two asuras Madhu and Kaitabha, who had personal experience in helping to create landmasses, islands within the vast, water-covered Earth.  This time for a change, as they would be creating an island manifesting as souls, they happily agreed to the proposal. Narada became confident that the Project Island will be off to a groundbreaking start. 

Next, the demon Panchajana, who lived in a conch shell in the depths of the ocean with a pastime to trouble the devas. For thrill, he killed and swallowed anyone who strayed near his abode. That was eons ago and Chitragupta’s foot note had suggested a role reversal, in order to show him how good his earlier life could have been. Narada met with Panchajana’s soul, explained Chitragupta’s plan and convinced it to be the ruler of the Island, populate it with known and pliant souls for a limited period drama. The soul agreed to live up to the expectation of Chitragupta’s footnote.

Narada visited the spirit of Bali a famous asura. An oceanographic expert in churning the ocean. To stir the mix well, he recruited the spirit of Narakasura, an expert in establishing kingdoms. Unsure why he chose them, Narada hoped the fghosts will put them, with their excellent C Vs or credentials, to good use!

Narada asked, “what role the island would play in all this?” 

“We need an Offshore Financial Center (OFC) with a registered office.  Our island will be declared as a more than flexible tax haven to attract depositors. AI generated brochure will proudly sing praise of our modus operandi as offering the better than the best “hawala” and other international banking experiences. A paragraph in the brochure will highlight the unbreakable CommLink, never ever known to mankind., warning the hacks to pack their bags and leave us alone. Is this not a diamond to cut many diamonds, if you overlook some financial corners we will be cutting? 

What about the economy of the island?

Your choices Bali and Narakasura are our bets. One can churn the ocean to net marine life and the other can sell the catch and establish the economic capital for the kingdom! 

What about paid-up capital for OFC?

The island and the infrastructures themselves, along with marine wealth. With our own ruler, who is going to question the granted banking license! You have surely not forgotten that our present ruler, in his earlier avatar created and lived in a conch shell. We can do excellent business by offering services to create shell companies for which we foresee ever increasing demand. Wait and watch, this will be a master stroke in financial jugglery! 

How do you propose to manage the settlements?

The fine print in the brochure says, “NO OVERDRAFT”. Hence settlements just equal the balance in that account. Kindly pardon us. For deniability’s sake, the CommLink specs and finer operating details are being withheld from you. 

After getting the entire picture, Narada’s head started to gyrate uncontrollably and simultaneously, in another part of Dev Lok, Bahama’s multiple heads reciprocated with sympathetic gyrations.

Narada asked, “Why two types of ghostobots and what they would do?”

These especially talented ghostobots can see through a granite slab and read the contents of a closed book. They will quietly pervade the banks sand scan the closed ledgers and list out dead accounts that are being used as mule accounts. When, transaction from a mule account is initiated, ghostobots are programmed to commence bouncing routines till the money is safely returned into the same account. This will bring the holders to confabulate with the facilitators (black sheep) giving us the identities. 

The second set of differently programmed ghostobots go out in the field, reaching far and wide, to dig out the cyberites and networkers. The collected dossiers will leak, only on our command, into the computers of banks and Enforcement Agencies. Be assured, the rest will be history titled "Operation Zero balance." 

Narada had only one doubt – “Will this Operation Zero balance succeed?" 

Annoyed, the fghosts challenged, "Let us go to Earth and we will prove with just only one catch across the banking system, cyberites and networkers. Are you ready?" 

Narada, ever happy to visit Earth, readily agreed. Down on Earth, they settled in a mega city where the chances of success for the trap to work was high. The fghosts set up their MLHSDS (Multiple Layer Holographic Status Display System) tuned and tested it. For Narada’s benefit they explained the various controls and display features.  Narada admitted, “It is pretty impressive! Particularly, the way any screen can be peeled back or brought to the front or the way each screen can held as a  separate like a page, is truly amazing!” 

Just at one after noon time, an alert of a transaction getting bounced came on the screen. Another layer showed the frantic call from an unknown person to a black sheep in a bank. The third layer status screen locked the coordinates of the bank, black sheep and the caller. 

Narada nervously asked, “How secure is this communication? And what is its reach?”

Fghosts replied, "Our CommLink is really out of the world in genre and reach." 

Will an automatic alert go out to the bank, the real account holder and Enforcement authorities? 

The aim, now is to bring out the ghost account operators, the location and the black sheep. The other set of ghostobots will receive and identify the back-end operators but do not act upon the inputs for now. 

By the time your system sounds the alarm, will it not be too late? 

On blitzkrieg mode, the network involving bank to back-end will be collected in a day by Earth's standard. Much damage financial will not occur because most of the transactions will be unable to get out of the bouncing loop. One or two may escape the cycle, that is intentional. When the alarm goes up, an army of investigators will descend on the scene to do the honours.  

As they were speaking inputs from the other set of ghostobots populated each layer of the screen, as per the programme loaded in the OSW (Operating Soft Ware). 

This was an out of the world experience even for Narada. He had one more question. What is the purpose of the Project Island when ghost accounts have vanished from the banking system? 

Once a ghost account holder, the itch never subsides. They will be searching for other outlets. There, our OFC will be sitting on the island offering facilities to open accounts and shell companies.  

Narada felt like being blown to the very centre of his universe. Speechless he stood like a statue. The fghosts had to bring him back to Earth, as they wanted to get back and report to Brahma. 

Not so noble, Mr. Nobel! 329

Dream costs nothing. To daydream, it costs next to nothing. A person in power, could make this statement because he can deliberately disrupt carefully built international relationships with a signature. This task becomes much easier, if he has advisors who misguide based on misinformation or who have sealed lips. As the daydream trans-lands from an episode to a full-length feature film in which something happens in every frame - the rest of the world finds itself flooded with diktats from one sunrise to the next, every hour on the hour. There is no method but only madness in this ruler of a proclaimed, benchmark democracy. 

Imaginch has been dreaming for a Nobel Peace Prize. Once he even asked his one and only friend about his chances of getting it. The friend asked him, what credentials do you have to covet that Prize? Feeling hurt, Imaginch replied, " I have never quarrelled with my neighbours and never stood in a place where a fight is going on." 

His friend replied, “Your case is as pathetic as a weak password, you are encouraged to improve in any internet portal." 

Not to be put down so easily, Imaginch asked, “hypothetically speaking, what are my chance of getting that Prize?” 

The friend became serious and replied, “At the most, six persons can be awarded a single Prize. Coming to your chances, I estimate about 10% of the world population living in all the six continents are eligible. To this we may have to add a few world leaders as VVIP wildcard entries. Even if you are one among the 10 does not help your case at all. Considering all these factors, the chances of someone from the Nobel Institute to recognise and award the Prize to you are ...” 

Imaginch shouted, “Come on, out with it.” 

His friend calmly replied, “Odds are astronomical and even beyond the Big Bang times the Big bang.” 

Undaunted, Imaginch continued. “Even in his horrible dreams, Alfred Nobel could not have experienced the fright of his life. Politicians and dictators are busy dynamiting the very foundation of Nobel Prize for Peace. Quirk of fate, the inventor of dynamite unwittingly had provided the tool to take down the edifice he had erected for a Peace Nobel. 

The ghost of Alfred Nobel must be ruing his dream of rewarding the Nobel Prize to those who brought the "greatest benefit to humankind" in physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace. The ghost recalled the premature obituary that labelled him a "merchant of death” which forced him to create a lasting, positive legacy to overcome his repentance. The prizes were designed to reward outstanding achievements in key fields, to encourage progress. 

Nobel dreamed of countering the destructive potential with constructive interventions.  The Peace Prize has its own story - Nobel, inspired by the efforts, of his activist- friend for peace, decided to honuor those who worked for promoting international brotherhood and peace, with this coveted Prize. Nobel believed that humanism and the power of science and knowledge will work to improve society. Alfred’s ghost had only this regret, for having had these noble thoughts and thinking that the world would not be ruled by “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall type” people. The ghost cleverly used ‘people’ instead of ‘men’! 

No doubt the value of things, moral and materials have changed a lot since his times. But this should not be used to make him turn in his grave, every year. Of course, it is a grave concern, which he failed foresee. Now, the grave-turners are breaking speed barriers to claim a Nobel, that too for Peace! Is it to keep their peace of mind? 

The unashamed aspirations of political leaders are being expressed personally or by proxies. It did not matter whether the leaders are elected, selected or usurpers. On the flip side, the orchestrated trumpeting, unwittingly left a deep well of sympathy for Alfred Nobel.  

Had he anticipated this lowering of the bar on the eligibility criterion, Alfred would have got proxies to demand a Nobel Peace Prize for him, before his demise. By today's standards, this would have easily passed muster as a coordinated PRO exercise. Roping in some NGOs to a deal with the Nobel Foundation will certainly add dignity & legitimacy for the bid. Alfred Nobel had set the precedence ‘for missing out’ on the moment of Nobel glory. Many after him, missed a Nobel Prize for their achievements and break throughs, including in the theatres of war & brokered peace. 

This recent trend along with other countless unrelated trends, disturbed Imaginch, now a non-contender to any of the Nobel Prize - after his friend had dashed his hopes with insurmountable odds. Then you may ask why get disturbed? 

Don’t   the densely populated countries having an army of contenders- ranging from councillor to the head of the nation deserve a go at the Prize, with pending civil and criminal cases, short - or long-term residency in jail or out on bail from every court in the nation, trying to catalyse discontent, rewriting textbooks on tax free corruption practices and confusing the electorates, every time? Have these worthies not contributed in all the scientific, and economical spheres? Forgetting the criminal cases, why other efforts could not be considered for at least a runner-up Peace Nobel! 

Another nation may have a political group picking up region and religion to demonstrate electoral-victory bending effects. Is this group's achievement not on par with Alfred Einstein's bending of light in space-time curvature? For this group's peaceful efforts, why not a Nobel, keeping aside the side effects like arson, looting, a few lost lives here and there and a few court cases? 

Nations that went about colonising the world, importing dirt cheap working hands and literally stealing   wealth from asunder get Peace Prize probably by leaving the colonised nations poor and starving and too weak. Where is the question of them fighting against the oppressor and at the same time take time to produce a contender!  This being a shining example, what harm befalls, if a leader from a country, which is hard to locate on the world map, stakes a claim for Nabel Peace Prize? Are we again living in the wild west where people staked claims on mining and drilling rights? 

These seekers are not disturbed by the fact that Nobel Peace Prize recipients Carl von Ossietzky (1935) Germany, Aung San Suu Kyi (1991) Myanmar, Liu Xiaobo (2010) China, Ales Bialiatski (2022) Belorussia and Narges Mohammadi (2023) Iran suffered incarceration and really had their necks on the chopping block. 

Today's world runs on GDP, per capita income and Sovereign bonds and other evil monetary traps. When population density produced more conflicts, countries with lean population stood a chance to start conflicts and then appear to end them. The short list emerges with who spent time in stopping military actions initiated by their predecessors and a few among them who supplied arms to one or both the sides and simultaneously brokered peace deals. To improve the odds further, they to let loose a pack of influencers to get proposed or bludgeon the Nobel Institute to part with a Nobel Peace Prize, peacefully! 

Those, who have authored textbooks on cheating, corruption, nepotism and cronyism and stock market manipulation, and now in prison, will be happy with a Prize for Peace or Literature! Little do they worry about turning these illustrious winners in their graves - Nobel laureates in Literature who wrote their works after enduring imprisonment - Knut Hamsun (1920), Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (1970), Wole Soyinka (1986), Imre Kertész (2002) and Pramoedya Ananta Toer (Often cited as a contender, but did not strike gold). 

Blowing self-trumpet or trumped-up proxy support or # Nobel@ Trumpet concert is not the way to achieve this honour! Overconfidence, assumption, grand vision of global recognition, a burning desire to take the world by storm with an unwelcome solo performance is definitely not enough. Has the world not survived the worst? Imaginch picked up his gauntlet against Alfred Nobel, albeit 125 odd years later. He had questions for him. 

“Anticipating the changing world, you should have left a strict SOP to the Nobel Institute. This would have allowed the Peace Prize to enjoy a peaceful, meaningful and respectful existence without getting subjected to pulls and pressures from contenders. Why did not you do it?” 

“You stood no chance, leaving the money and the world, to win a Nobel which would have amounted to a self-goal. But many after you missed a Nobel Prize for reasons other than their achievements and break thoughts.  Don’t you realise that you have left a door open “for reasons other than” to bring pressure on the Institute, by personal declarations and through proxy voices?” 

The Nobel Peace prize is under threat from diplomatic pouches bringing files on sanctions and deep freezing of assets. Diplomatic pouches are the soft threat and press briefings are hard threat. Has this world become munificent? In this world nothing is for free. Almost all pay for it but a rare breed of few makes all the others to pay for it, on behalf of them. Not so a noble trait, for getting a Nobel Prize. Whether the Institute will duck or dig in heels worried Imaginch. 

After enduring this long winding speech, his one & only friend left the scene, without reworking to confirm the odds of Imaginch getting a Nobel Prize, as the man himself had opted out of contention.

Before leaving, he said, “Had Mr. Nobel foreseen the day when trumpet blowers would populate the bazaar, with a mere hint he would have got a Nobel Prize awarded to himself. The committee would have made sure that this Special Nobel Prize would never ever be awarded to another person, living or dead!”

Imaginch cursed himself for not coming with such a noble thought.

ChintaMany’s diary page No 7 – The tool kits 328

{.. how to spot the species of pressure builders? Why the pressure builder always makes an uninvited appearance, at the last minute?}                                                       From ChintaMany’s diary page No. 6

In an otherwise mundane life, most of us make do with whatever we can earn with no other intention other than working out our sinews to better ourselves. Wonder why this rant to start with? Hopefully, the doubt will get cleared as you and me go along a little further, down the lines. 

The “Oldowan toolkit" started its journey about at least 2.6 million years ago in Africa, as a set of intentionally manufactured tools. This toolkit consisted of basic stone tools such as hammerstones, stone cores and sharp flakes. They are used to batter other stones, to remove flakes and to create edges and as cutting instruments.  The primary purpose of this toolkit was to process food - in butchery to carve out meat off animal carcasses, to break bones to access marrow, to process tough plant materials and extend the physical abilities of early humans as an aid for survival.  By about 1.76 million years ago, the “Acheulean” toolkit, such as the more advanced, large cutting tools like handaxes came into existence. 

Modern utility Tool kits come in various sizes depending on the nature of the job involved - engines and down to plumbing, electrical and electronic devices. From among these common tools – jack, tyre rod, spanners, wrenches, Allen keys, box spanners, cutting pliers, screw drivers, hammer, knifes, measuring and sealing tapes, if possible, a first aid pack, rust remover and grease sticks and other useful things find a definite place in the tool kit. If it is comfortable, let us call it a toolbox. 

The tools and the hands holding them endeavour to extend the life of machineries, home appliances and keep pipelines and electricity flowing. The tools and the hands that provide these services are unsung heroes livening up to our earlier rant on our mundane life. 

How can a mundane life be left peaceful? This opened the door for the entry of another kind of tool kit. The ultramodern "toolkit” emerged prominently in the early 2010s to facilitate rapid, decentralized mobilization in social media-driven protests, though its roots trace back to online activist groups in the 1980s. A digital, shareable document containing guidelines, resources, and strategies for action evolved from physical pamphlets and flyers. This modern digital toolkit served to unite, educate, and coordinate supporters across the globe instantly. 

 A Toolkit acts as a resource finder for organising and staging local protests by faster dissemination of information to a global audience and orchestrate "tweetstorms” among supporters scattered globally. Informs participants about the cause, provide talking points, and suggest strategies and advise protesters on safety and evasion techniques, legal aid, suggest hashtags, create shareable graphics and counter misinformation. In non-protest contexts, being used by organizations to provide consistent resources for implementing Intellectual Property Rights or managing business projects. 

ChintaMany was agitated to find out that, in essence, the toolkit is designed to ensure that leaderless protest movements do not splinter, aimed at dismantling or combating the existing systems by facilitating rapid, informed action. In short, calls go out to man the battleground. 

The radical difference is in what sort of tools this kit is stocked up with. Funds, disruptive mind set, organised and instant worldwide transmission of out of context misrepresentation and zero balance in ethics, moral and other noble human traits but overflowing vicarious intent to commit or encourage nefarious acts. This type of tool kit would travel thousands of kilometers to prey upon and enjoy the pleasure in doing so. 

A few tech savvy individuals running away from one's own country start a tool kit and bring discredit as if duty bound to pay off a debt.  How else can they practice freedom of speech and action enshrined in some foreign constitution? They become a borrowed foreign needle to poke into indigenous eyes!  To give misguided company to these runaways, there are tribes of people who label them as activists. Now the bridge elements get assembled for furthering the ‘agenda’ of the movement. The herd of tubers and pipers marauding as influencers fall like dominos and without any compunction use the imported kits to spread or prepare the grounds for cyber invasion - on any ongoing issue between a section of people and their government. 

As always, moles in the target country willingly come forward to be used and discarded like a pair of gloves. They are so naïve to think that by lying down if they throw mud upwards, it will come down on somebody else! The particular issue may have nothing to do with them, but they don’t mind to help and denigrate their own country is a moot point. 

There is a pyramidal construction in action, to stir unrest and achieve selfish goals. Hypocritic billionaires after amassing wealth through fraudulent means are suddenly bit by their conscious to foster democratic norms in other countries. High moral-horse riding runaways and foreign activists, who do not even know the latitude and longitude of the country where they want to stage their disruptive activities, become the generals and go about recruiting foot-soldiers. The billionaires create endowments to channel funds to sow the seeds of disharmony and disruption. The runaways and foreign activists move in with placards, microphones, video cameras and with invited networks in tow, to add hi-octane fuel in the agitating mind. 

The issue, background, relevant governing provisions, justification and judicial mechanisms that are open for redressal are of no concern for deploying the specially curated toolkit. The tool kit and the pyramidal structures funding them project any emerging, amicable settlement of the dispute as a draconian measure to keep the kettle boiling on occupied highways! 

Why this toolkit happens?  There are ultra optimists and ultra pessimists. There are those who factor in a little pessimism but choose to be optimistic, aiming to separate the larger goodness by ignoring minor negativism.

Treading the middle path, there are those who don’t want to be a pessimist or optimists, permanently. This vacillating type invariably gets tripped on the wrong foot. Now comes the downside of humanity comprising of the average pessimist and the ultra-pessimist and the doomsayers. This group never find, work for or appreciate anything that is good. Buried among all the above variations, lies the answer to why the toolkits happen! 

Probably, we could answer that question by choosing the sponsors, pushers and the foot soldiers from the above-mentioned type of people. 

The sponsors carrying the vestige of colonial mindset are unable to relinquish the sordid, past misdeeds. They belong to nations that became wealthy by occupations, ruling and methodically emptying their coffers of wealth and minerals. When there was nothing else to plunder in the vaults, above or below the ground, then they left those nations bankrupt. Inheritors of that colonial vestige followed that text-book procedures with suitable modern and questionable business models, methodically went after minerals and oil to make billions, by other. To shield their business empires and dubious practices, from becoming subjects of inquiry and legal actions, they create endowments, under the guise of philanthropy (all the while thinking humanity my foot!), and fund toolkits 

The electronic ‘tubers’ and ‘pipers’ with the sole intent of blowing up a balloon, looking at the widening inadequacies, inequalities and perceived suppression of voices, descend on the scene. They do not understand the fact that somebody gave them the ballon marked with dots and they were being used merely as a bellow to blow the balloon. When you go for fishing, do you muddy the waters? These nerds, possessing the technology feel entitled to have a say in everything, will muddy the water and then try to catch some fishes. Portraying only negativity reflects on the depravity of this kind of agents of toolkits. Granted, everyone has an opinion but are there no better avenues to earn a few honest dollars and a band of loyal subscribers?  Why they refuse to come out of the thinking that a frame alone will become the picture? 

These shameless weasels, gravitate into the folds of the waiting pyramidal structures and help them to engineer the collapse of governance seizing any opportunity and issue which in no way are connected or detrimental to them. 

The moles (sleeper agents) in the target country are a confused lot. They willingly become propagators and sympathisers for any kind of toolkit and readily fall prey like a moth into the flame only to get consumed by the fire. Do they realise that the country is larger and powerful than the toolkit they import or copy. Will they ever realise it is beneficial to help plug the holes instead of making new ones? 

The question all of them should ask themselves is - did anyone requested their philanthropic funds, the expertise of the balloon blowers and the local moles for their kind presence and help? 

Maybe, an in-house grown toolkit is needed to educate and eradicate this tribe of sleeper agents. Finding that the weed growers and their impact steadily losing ground, the ‘tubers’ and ‘pipers’ would stop coming.  Deserted by the generals and foot-soldiers, the pyramidal structures will slowly leave the scene. 

ChintaMany woke up with a start, a fright and a disbelief not knowing whether it was a dream or real or wishful thinking, contrary to the ways of the masquerading humanitarian minded philanthropists with cold hearts! Will they stop, if Nobel Prizes are awarded to them?  He closed the last line with a bold “NO CHANCE”.  Because they will pocket the change to start another set of toolkits! 

Unable to come to terms with his last entry, he added his thoughts as a postscript. 

“Would someone come forward and introduce Kill switches, malwares or any other means to corrupt the toolkits and render them fit for the recycle bin! A corrupt means to take down the corrupted pyramidal structures along with the generals and foot-soldiers!

Is it not a practice to include dos and don’ts for packaged material?  He would have no issues with toolkits, if they had included these warnings “Don’t meddle elsewhere without understanding the issue and the existing system of remedies. Check your locus standi before getting involved? Do you qualify to be a judge?”. Then the toolkit would have a noble intention, indeed!" 

ChintaMany mused.  Probably the early humans needed them for survival and not to protest against the environment.  With the modern version, people use them to fight for survival - of whom is the question?