Thought crucible

My maternal grandma passed away today. At 87, she was a vanishing shadow of her glorious past. The cause unknown, she breathed her last, amidst just the hallucinated images of unborn twins, my grandfather, and the heydays of her life. Not a worldly soul around, it was an ironic death, having raised three and almost four generations of children. It was an inconsolable loss to the big branch of the family tree that she left behind. She was a great granddaughter, daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother! Here was a pretty girl, having won the heart of her husband when young. Married to an intellectual, she upheld the dignity of an almost First Lady with aplomb. As, the pages of her life turned yellow, much like her Vishnu Sahasranama, she was left to fend her dignity amidst property disputes, quarreling siblings and a dead husband. All alone, here in the US, far away from the warm embraces of my own mother and father, I am reconciling this great loss...

I wrote a poem about a week back, when i wandered around as the imaginary constant i. As it turns out, there were parts of the poem that didn't just look like mathematical allusions, but ideas we could associate with ourselves. The Engineer in me insists that the mathematical meaning in the poem is not lost and so, I figured I would write explaining what I really had in mind, when I wrote this. (It is amazing how the notation gave me freedom to do a duality of a biographical context of the imaginary context, as well as an almost autobiographical). i was thrown into a numeropolitan, painted with hues of pure emotion. i was thrown into a numeropolitan - a city of numbers. Numbers, big and small everywhere. This little guy was thrown in there - with no real meaning. There was no reason for his existence and in many contexts, emotion is almost the antonym of reason. And so, I said that i was painted with hues of pure emotion - absolutely no reason in it. Looking to find righteous comp...

i was thrown into a numeropolitan, painted with hues of pure emotion. Looking to find righteous company, amidst the condescending reality. i gazed unto the pinnacles of exponents, and the abysses of their complements. and the giant factory of Equation, churning strokes pregnant with information. i was just a figment of pure imagination, born to perform no real function. Yet, i feel like a fuckin' mistress, in the altitude of the high priestess. i searched the partials and the voluptuous rounds, and was chased like by a pack of angry hounds. i was going round and round in circles, and met a madman chased since the time of Pericles. "Stay and wait with me for my darling wife, any time now, she shall descend - the toil of Euler's life. Together, we shall escape into reality". to whom i said "why, it's your pop-in-law's identity!". And so, i roamed this universe, whose response to me was always perverse. and then it all came back to me, i had known what ...