Stray Birds

God & Golem, Inc: A Comment on Certain Points Where Cybernetics Impinges on Religion , published in 1964, has been penned down by Norbert Wiener. Wiener (1894-1964) happens to be the coiner of the term ‘cybernetics’ in its modern sense. Wiener is a well-regarded mathematician and has a vast number of technical papers to his credit. However God and Golem Inc, has very little to do with the subtleties of theoretical physics or mathematics, it concerns itself majorly with socially relevant issues of cybernetics that intersect with religion. The author here refrains himself from using any highly technical phrases to prove his points. Some of the ideas do remain rather vague, as a result of this approach. But it seems necessary as the book caters to a much wider audience this way.  The three main issues, discussed throughout a number of short essays in the book, are:  Machines which learn themselves Machines which have capacity to reproduce themselves The relation between man

Thought me had no one, Noone to take care mine, Take mine care, Before it was, Noticed your, Small your paws, Brown fur, A rat me all got, All me got, Trapped inside both, The same gutter, Rat got the me, Me got rat, Both we bored, Enough ignored, Our shared stories, Biologist and histories, Bonded really we, Shared all could we, Shared food our, We shared our food, He shared his body, Me shared mine hunger, And left was me, All alone, Me was alone, Inside the gutter. -Pavan 22 November, 2010

Been there, seen it Your smile your pet mouse Both inside your wooden house Upon the mountain inside the stone But your mouse is dead your smile stolen Your furniture broken your cousin grown fat Bet your insurance company Didn’t know anything about that I still remember our first kiss Going to the movies, flying the red kites The trip to Albino, our first few fights Shades of gray lingering between All the blacks and the whites Happy times, sad days, desperate nights But when I needed your love the most Your condolences, your advice You were never there No one to hear my cries For you were dancing in the distance With the tall guys Never thought you will leave someday Was it so easy to betray When I was exhausted you threw me away Just like an empty bottle of spray Sometimes, in my dreams, can sense you Hear your footsteps, can hear their distant sound My fears shake me up, from dreams they wake me up And there is nothing but emptiness to be found To

Over the hilly town Under the dead nun's gown Have put it down But somehow Can’t find it now     Can’t locate grave of the nun Under the burning sun But I won't give up Will return when the moon shines And the silver fox cries Find my paper crown I will burn the place down Sit atop the banyan tree Enjoying the off spree Watching the world burn free Cherish the moment Enjoy every last scream People burning while still in their dream   Will dance naked over dead bodies Eat the flesh of children And when I am all fed up I will consider my mistakes undone For god is kind Having a sound mind I shall confess all my crimes Beat up my back couple of times My sins, be forgiven And someday   When I meet Him We shall ride horses made of clay And to Him I would say "It was a lovely Saturday!" -Pavan 14 November, 2010

Underneath moonlit skies, on curving yellow roads we walked, Over elating highlands, warm rainforests her shadows I stalked. In some silent whispers, couple of nameless songs she hummed, Insinuating ideas dusted and newfangled alike, and we talked! Enjoying unblemished sunshine a marsh harrier upon us flew, Fresh smells of flowing seas of blue mountains and rambling squirrels it blew. She told me of her grandpa’s old clock, about how much he cared, Other funny little stories of her childhood she shared. And I listened wondering all the while, Upon a green leaf and little orange flowers, a butterfly hovered meanwhile. “So Cute!” Pointed Mrs. Wayne to her husband and their only son, A small fist extended as the boy captured the fly, just for the sake of fun! A lion roared in vicinity, out Mr. Wayne took his shredded gun, Four thousand feet above us all a German fighter-plane flew, under the hooded sun. The butterfly escaped the fists, the plane dived, The lion roare