Game Theory

Good day, everyone. I'm Professor N (no, not Nash), and I'm here to present to you a case study on Game Theory. This is a 3 person game, and by nature, it is zero sum. First things first, lets understand a couple of things: (definitions courtesy wiki. too lazy to type. copy paste rules)

1. Game Theory - A branch of applied mathematics that attempts to mathematically capture behavior in strategic situations, in which an individual's success in making choices depends on the choices of others.

2. Zero Sum Game - A situation in which a participant's gain or loss is exactly balanced by the losses or gains of the other participant(s). If the total gains of the participants are added up, and the total losses are subtracted, they will sum to zero.

Yes so now you have what you need for the moment.

Let us consider 3 participants in this game; X, Y and Z. It must be understood that X and Y are involved in a game of their own. Due to unavailability of data, I cannot tell you what the sum of their game is. It can be noted, however, that the unavailability of data can be attributed to the game under study.

X and Y had a great deal of interaction between them, independent of each one's interaction with Z, with varying degrees (not of freedom). This, by nature poses the possibility of two separate games influencing the aforementioned two separate games, making in all, 4. This implies, ceteris paribus, that the degrees (yes, of freedom) must therefore be, 3. Since that has no reference to this case, we shall abandon these said degrees of freedom, spurning them as we would spurn a rabid dog.

The existence of these separate games is of great significance. To understand, let us see the chain of events, starting, ever so obviously, from the beginning. X and Z also had a great deal of interaction between them, starting with the first time these two variables (read participants) came into contact on the same plane (Cartesian, to avoid confusion). However, since we know that the Butterfly Effect holds true in most cases, especially where it should not, certain small changes in the initial system involving X and Z caused their system to be non-robust, and hence, collapse. Although here, interestingly, what was affected was only the correlation and not the regression. Thus far, X and Z had been positively correlated. After and due to the system falling apart from the top, X and Z became negatively correlated. However, due to unavailability of data, and very honestly, fateful cockup, the regression equation never changed.

This means that apart from their negative correlation, the two mentioned variables possess covariance, thereby rendering them not completely independent of each other. Now let us let this be, and examine X and Y.

X and Y, as mentioned before, displayed characteristics of adhesion. The two variables were perfectly correlated. Again, fateful cockup and Edward Lorenz (through the butterfly effect) intervened, and their system lost credibility, though not robustness. The two variables remained suspended within the dynamics of their own cartesian plane. Interestingly and unexpectedly, Y wandered into the plane Z was on and interacted with said Z. Y and Z interacted mostly with decreasing degrees of freedom, since their plane merged and overlapped (merging and overlapping independently, of course) with the plane of X.

As is common with most assumptions, they are proved wrong. X and Y assumed their independance, but not counting on their covariance proved to be the undoing. X and Y found their balance, and their system was restored, eliminating the errors of the previous state. Utimately, X and Y became so closely correlated that their correlation went beyond perfect. The net result of this was that the system Y and Z had been in fell apart completely.

This leaves us with only two systems now, the debris of the aforementioned four. As can easily be seen, this is a zero sum game.

Now you have seen the case. IF you see a problem, give me the solution. Man I love professorial work :D

Shards of rain break down
As He walks his blistery path
His soles cracked and jagged
He stops for a drink of water

As he drinks, the water scars him
It leaves a line down his jugular
The scope of his defense leaves a mark
Ah, the blistering innocence

The glasspiece coursing thorugh veins
Mark its destination with suffering
Its movement traces an outline
A sihlouette carved out of wood

Motion if evanescent, ephemeral
The action outlives its intention
Movement embodies creation
And goes in hand with defeat

Neruda - Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her......(for you)
______________________________________________


If ever somebody could paint pain, this is it. Neruda, I salute you. And you....yes, you....this is for you.

Gaiman on Love

I came across this a while back, and remembered it today. I dont hate love, but am avoiding it for precisely these reasons. Bright side is, the description of love is so beautifully true. Read it I say...

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Gaiman is the man

Vayu

“Madame, bear in mind that princes govern all things--save the wind.” - Victor Hugo

---

She was young and beautiful, full of energy and true to her name. She was, in every way, the personification of wind. I say was, not is. “I am the wind”, she would say. And she was. She could not be tamed, like the element she was named after. She chose how she lived. She chose everything from her clothes to her mood. She was my everything. My Vayu. My sun rose and set in her. In her smile. In her eyes. At the end of a long, tiring day, all I needed to calm me down was 5 minutes on her lap. She chose everything. To my utter misfortune, she also chose when to die.

Vayu used to play with the neighborhood kids after she came back from work. Her long hair tossing about as she ran and jumped with them, laughing and gurgling like a newborn. Her glasses would keep flying off her face every time she furiously shook her head while arguing with them. 6-7 year olds. She became as young as them, my Vayu. I could stand watching her for hours. She doesn’t know this, and now she never will. She and I used to meet at a Barista close to where she went to college. We used to meet almost everyday. Whenever I got late, I always told her I was delayed somewhere. Truth is, I would be standing at the petrol bunk outside Barista, out of sight, staring at her. Something about her just made me…stare. I think it was her hair. Yes, I’m sure it was. As I was saying, I would stare at her for at least 15 minutes before I walked in; and give her some lame reason as to why I was late. I still go to Barista. Nobody to even glance at, unfortunately.

My Vayu had a terminal condition. Doctors gave her two months to live. Fighter that she was, she lasted 11. My Vayu was strong, make no mistake. I just wish she hadn’t made me that last promise. She held my hand and promised me she’d never let me go. That was the first time I broke down in front of her. My Vayu. She held my hand and said she’d always hold on that tight. I don’t blame her. She must’ve meant it at the time. Vayu never said things she didn’t mean. 3 days after she promised me, she died.

My mother taught me that nature could never be forced into action. I realized the truth – the harsh bitter truth – of that statement when Vayu went away. It is true. The wind can never be tamed. She lived as she pleased; and truth be told, I couldn’t think of a circumstance where she would have died as she didn’t please. My Vayu would have it no other way. I now realize that I can't change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination. And that destination is her. As I write these words, I sit with 56 sleeping tablets in my belly. The last year has been a constant struggle to exist. Nobody seems to understand my pain. They brush it aside as the melodrama of a man in bereavement. What they do not realize is that I without my Vayu was lost.

Vayu did things to me nobody else ever could. She behaved with me as the wind does. She blew out my candles and fanned my fires. Even now I can hear her gurgling, joyous laughter. My world was Vayu, and now, at last, in death, she and I will be one. For as the great man said, “What is it to die, but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?” I correct the prophet and say that I will melt into my Vayu. Sleep calls, and I shall never wake up. I’m coming, Vayu. Into your hands, I give up my spirit.
____________________________________________________________________

This is my tribute to Old Love, which is a short story by Jeffrey Archer. It moved me so much that I had to write something very very close to my heart, and this is it.....

To the people

I was thinking about people other than my immediate family who have made a difference in my life. To me. Feeling very sentimental and all, so decided to get it out of my system by writing it down, in no particular order. Figure out these people if you can :P Muhahahahaha

1. To you, my best friend. You live in Mumbai now. We haven't been in continuous touch for over 5 years. Still, when we do catch up, its like I saw you yesterday. Like your name, you bring joy to my life, always.

2. To you, who instilled in me the love for movies. You are The Boss, the embodiment of Superstar. I worship you, and hope to direct you some day.

3. To you, who instilled in me a love for so many styles of music. You are the personification of music for me, and your gnaanam is unparalleled.

4. To you, a friend I met online, but later became chuddy-buddies with. All the drinks, the philosophies and the Hallelujah's....Life might have turned out very differently if you weren't in it.

5. To you, who taught me to love. And then to be a friend. You have made me a better person in many ways, and I love you.

6. To you, who taught me to reduce my melodrama. Who tries to teach me to sing :) Some day, I will prove to be a good pupil. Love you bro

7. To you, who has helped me unlock my creativity, and introduced me to the world of entertainment and Radio. Late night drives wont be the same without screaming at Parigi with you. Love you man

8. To you, my Zephyr. You changed my life, my lifestyle, my everything. You defined me, at a point in time, and in many ways, your traces remain. I could go on, but I'll reserve that for another day. Just know it's you and in some way I will always love you.

9. To you, my Sylvia Plath :P You have been a very unlikely friend, but I would have it no other way. Keep writing. I swear I will publish at least one of your books.

10. To you, my brother in Illinois. You and I have had one of the weirdest yet most fulfilling friendships I've ever known. Love you brother.

11. To you, my piloting friend. Who introduced me to the practicalities of life. I hope you get rid of all your puppy lowe and find true lowe :P :) :D

12. To you, my Sakkarakatti. You saved my life. When the wind deserted me, you showed me what was worth living for. We might have had our own petty fights and all, but you've been a great friend. Lets show the world the movies we make. Lets rock this joint.

13. To you, my Jumbonic friend :) You were there for me at a time when I needed sure footing. I love our work together, and dude, lets write that script man....

14. To you all, my Loyola and IFMR friends. Yes, even you with the horrible iyer tamil. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for having come into my life in some form or the other. I am what I am today because of you guys too.

15. To you, my darling who, dare i say, taught me about the philosophies of love.....May you forever be happy.


To all of you, I just want to say thanks. For everything. Since I believe in a God, I believe in his agents as well, and each and every one of you have been God's agents at some point in time or the other to me. You know who you are :)

Phew....Now that thats done, good night.

p.s: There are a few I've missed out....intentionally.....You will soon be acknowledged...... :)

Combined Effort

This is a dear friend and myself at an unearthly hour writing. We decided to leave it untitled as we "dont feel like we cna encompass it in a title. it shall be untitled"

On the iris of infinity
The Jester stands weeping
Sundials pelt him
Reminding him of
His evanescence
He smiles through the chipping plaster of his mask
The red paint cracking, peeling
As he folds down upon the ground, quietly kneeling
The moon shone
Merciless
Laughing now, refusing to come
Covering the land in silver blood
Tauntingly calling him
"Moonchild"
He brought the stars, the planets, ethereal and nebulous
But no moon, the sliver sheen eluding his fingers
Slipping through his soul as liquid glass
He ripped off his mask
As he heard the mandrake scream
He saw the ecclesiastic
The meaningless
And as he gazed and gazed
His myriad demons
Festering in his cherubic veneer emerged
A ghastly, peerless, kafkaesque beauty

Eloi, Eloi.....Lama Sabachthani

Wherefore art thou, my bird?
Thou didst call me to fly
When I could not, and
Mine wings were clipped

Thou dost little realise
My path and yours are one
The stars doth shed tears
At our anguish and pangs

Lucifer, as thou hurtled down
From thy seraphic abode
How didst thou feel?
Didth thou protest too much?

Why doth Venus amerce me so?
What hath been my crime
But to speak as she so bade me?
The bitterns doth loom on high

I claimeth not my innocence
Merely my right to the grail
Eloi Eloi, lama sabachthani
Thy woof doth destroy my tapestry

Herald Cherubim, as thou doth hark
I resonate the lower notes of thine song
In A Minor, I exist
The chord of sadness in the rapture

Tears in the Rain

He stood, motionless. His tears mixing with the rain as it fell, almost as if the heavens were sad for him. She had gotten into her car and left. For good. “I cant see you anymore, Shiva”, she had said. “We’ve got to cut our losses and move on.” She spoke in the language of business. He forgot how much he loved hearing her talk like that. Now all that remained was a deep sense of loss. Of hurt. Of resentment…… and he stood, too numb to think.

He was a brave man. All his life he lived fearless and free. But now. Now he began questioning the roots of that feeling. He closed his eyes and remembered. Remembered the conversations. The dances. The kisses. He remembered how good it all had felt. And now this. He was a devout person. He always believed that the god he prayed to – the god that bore his name – would not let him down. Now he felt like an idiot for believing. He tried rationalizing. She and he were from radically different worlds. The worlds had clashed, somehow and she chose to cut and run. He couldn’t blame her. Nor could she blame him.

But now, standing there in the rain, nothing mattered. She had gone, he was back to lonely, and life seemed to stand still. And he, like his tears, were lost in the rain.

The Visionary

In a room of pure white
There was a corner of scarlet
Crimson shards of pulchritude
Dripping down from the body above
Creating an inferno in heaven

Bathing in the red, he saw eternal light
The acidic taste arousing him
Lust is wild, coupled with blood
That tastes like souls dipped in wine
Ah, the intoxicating bliss of power

He picks up his bag, looks around intently
Studying the whiteness of the proximity
Enough, he decides. Enough now
He had cleansed this place enough
He moves on, more cities await
__________________________________________________________
Figure this one out :) I write what I see. Don't hold that against me

N

The Image

We hold on to images
Dark and bright
Seemingly unreal
They tend to suffice

They make up for what we dont have
They give us hope
Comfort
Peace

Sometimes it is better
To let go of the images
Than tarnish them
With the soot that is reality

A man and a woman
At the beach watching the sunrise
She lying on his lap
Their son on her stomach

It's gone.

Song of the Heart

I stand at the edge of the river. A Godess comes out of the water and stands just outside my reach. When I stretch my hands to touch, I find I cant reach her, because my hands are chained. The chains are barbed. So the more I struggle, the more I bleed. The more I bleed, the more it hurts and the more I want her comfort. And I strugle to reach her even further. Slash and cut go hand in hand. I can feel the blood. I crave her. I need her. As my heart keeps pumping blood, I pray that I can touch the Godess so my heart can finally sing its song. And then........

And then the chains fall off. The Godess runs away when she realises I can actually reach her. I look at her, running away into the distance, with a deep sadness in my heart, and pain at my arms. Particularly my wrists. And then.....

And then I turn around and see everyone who loves me, and cares for me. And it's a sizeable number. I see a friend who had loosened my chains. I see other friends bringing me bandages and first aid. I see my brother getting up from praying for me. I see my parents crying tears of joy that I'm alright. I see a statue of Lord Shiva that I had missed completely although It stood so close to me at that riverbank. My closest friends encircle me and group-hug me, telling me that everything will be alright. And suddenly, my heart begins to sing.......and it doesn't stop.

Thennaadudaya Sivane Pottri

N

The Guitar and the Glasses

This is something that I wrote on a piece of paper on Diwali day in 2007. I found it, and decided to put it up here. Read on.....

"The guitar. It's driving me mad. I look at it, and I remember the slender fingers that used to hold it. I look at it, and remember the tips of those fingers caressing my face. The guitar. It's all there. The wood, the finish, the strings, the frets. It's all there, but she isn't. The music from the guitar reminds me of times and songs I played for her. Even the music remains, but she's gone. In a vain attempt to numb the pain, I hug the guitar and go to sleep. It does not help. I wake up with a cut on my forehead, but not feeling the pain; as it is attenuated by the bleeding in my heart. And it's not just that guitar, or guitars in general. It's glasses. Every time I look at a pair of glasses I remember hers. I remember the time I broke it while we were together at a friend's place. I remember those lovely eyes that used to look through them to look at me. The eyes that shed tears that would stain the edges of those glasses, and flow down her cheeks, waiting for me to wipe them away. The tears that somehow called their kin from my eyes to fall with them. Guitars and glasses. They ruin me."

N

Dancing in her orb, she mocks me
Knowing that I dread to break the glass
The sight of her stuns me to silence
Suffering is my only respite

I feel like taking a drill and using it
My cranium craves air supply
Only then will her thoughts go away
Only then will there be silence

How long will you mock me, girl?
In your glass world, all seems well
There will come a time when my due is paid
Not in cash, or kind, or suffering

But with love

For that day
I wait
My heart
Forever belonging to you.

This is either one of my worst or one of my best. Deal with it.

N

Questions

I just have a few questions to ask. I'm asking them to myself, you, and the rest of the world.

1. Are laughter and happiness the same?
2. Is there ever a truly selfless act?
3. When things go bad, are you the type that cuts and runs or are you the type that has the balls to stand and work it out?
4. When will we ever learn what love is?
5. Why do the nice guys always finish last?
6. Why do some tears come irrespective of how long it has been since that which we are crying for came to pass?
7. Why do human beings have an innate need to control their surroundings?
8. If there really was a completely selfless act, is it worth performing it?
9. When we introspect, will we find that we are all fundamentally flawed, or will we find that we were fundamentally perfect, but lost our way somewhere in life?
10. Does love ever really come to an end?
11. Why do people take love so much for granted?
12. When we meet new friends, why do we tend to forget the old ones?
13. Is there any humanity left in the world?
14. Where is the rhyme in our reason?
15. Why is it so easy for us to advise, but so difficult to empathise?
16. Why is man the only animal that kills for reasons other than mate, food and territory?

When I think of the possible answers, I feel queasy. What is it exactly that separates us from our animal counterparts? Why are we considered the smartest animals on the planet? Shouldn't we have figured all this out by now?

Signing off in deep contemplation,
N

Hallelujah

This song is a song that makes me bawl my eyes out every time I listen to it. I dont know why it does that to me, but it does. One of my friends told me that if there is a way to paint pain, it would be with this song. I couldn't agree more. Read on:

I heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you dont really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To her kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Try listening to the song. Either Leonard Cohen or Jeff Buckley. I can't type any more. Tearing up already.

N

Tandavam

They sat together, completely at peace
When she expressed her desire
Her father's sacrifice required her presence, She said
He would not go, because He was unwanted

Her father hated him, Dweller of graveyards
Did not share the love millions had for Him
And she had her father's temper
She too, was like Him - an untameable force

He told her not to go, forbade it completely
But she wouldn't listen
He told her if she left, she couldn't come back
Still, she went

Soon after, He heard of her gruesome fate
She had let the fire consume her
He did not know how to react, what to feel
Love, Anger, Hate, Remorse or Grief

He went and saw her body
Half mutilated, and still full of the beauty He adored
He carried her, and waves of emotion swept over Him
The sight of His corpse bride unleashed within Him a primeval rage

He began dancing, and Dance became Rage
Dance became Rage and Rage became Dance
His lifeless wife in His arms, He danced
Until the world began to fear

None could stop Him; stop the fury He unleashed
In His Rage, in His Grief, In His Love
He had told her; hadn't He told her?
He wished He had never forbidden her at all

His mind transcended levels hitherto unknown
Planes where Fear was nothing, and Rage, everything
He embodied Rage, consummating its marriage with Love
Dancing, feeling, destroying

Somehow, this feels complete.

Thennadudaya Sivane Pottri

Next Set

1. Some people have no clue what they want.
2. When I think of the way I was many years ago, I feel pukish at what I was a few months ago.
3. But now, I'm Back.
4. I have decided to defer my thriller for a while, and work on a commercial script.
5. I'm not so sure that so-called morals have helped me achieve anything I have in this life.
6. Porcupine Tree is a band that SoundScape must cover.
7. Of course, I miss her. But I also have my self respect, and will not tolerate its violation anymore.
8. When people forget where they come from, it hurts the people from their past very much, because they have cut these people out of their lives for their own convenience.
9. Work is a good excuse to get out of anything, including dates :)
10. I live and let live. I expect the same courtesy from people. If I am denied that courtesy, it's only a matter of time before I lash out. When I do, it's going to be ugly.
11. I had the most amazing spiritual experience at the Mahalingapuram Shiva Temple last evening. I went there with a friend. Thank God she took me there.
12. "I do not die because beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof" - V as in V for Vendetta
13. "There are no perfect marriages, Naveen. There are only forgiving marriages" - My Mother
14. "I know you are here to kill me. Shoot, coward, you are only going to kill a man" - Che Guevara
15. It's amazing how people think Che was communist. The idiots.
16. "I, like God, do not play with dice and I don't believe in coincidences" - V again
17. Sex and Race, because they are easy, visible differences, have been the primary ways of organising human beings into superior and inferior groups and into the cheap labour on which this system still depends. I want to see a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen, or those earned. What I am really talking about is Humanism
18. "Any new idea, is asked two questions. The first is asked when it’s weak: WHAT KIND OF AN IDEA ARE YOU? Are you the kind that compromises, does deals, accommodates itself to society, aims to find a niche, to survive; or are you the cursed, bloody-minded ramrod-backed type of damnfool notion that would rather break than sway with the breeze? The kind that will almost certainly, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, be smashed to bits; but the hundredth time, will change the world?" "What’s the second question?", Gibreel asked. "Answer the first one first" - My absolute favourite quote from Satanic Verses. I am the latter
19. "The very rich and the very poor make their own rules. The middle class suffers the evils of both sides." - My Grandfather
20. This day, mark it on your calendar. The Chinese Year of The Rat begins on February 8th. 1984, my birth year was also a Rat year. This year, something is going to change, and it's going to change monumentally. I can feel it. Call me stupid, but far too many signs are pointing to this year being MY year. Be Prepared.

Thennadudaya Sivane Pottri