Moving Finger

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(Poem # 545)

"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ
Moves on: nor all your Piety and Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all your Tears wash a Word of it"

........................................................................Omar Khayyam

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There is a charming tale about the Fatalism (Karma Siddhanta) ingrained in Hindu minds as a Pacifier for Life's inequities.

There is this belief that when an infant is in the making, in its 5th or 7th month (there is healthy controversy about the timing), Brahma (Vidhata) of the Hindu Trinity takes his pen and in invisible ink writes in calligraphy on the infant's forehead its fate from womb to tomb.

One Rationalist takes it upon himself to disprove this idiotic fib and undertakes arduous penance to propitiate Brahma himself. A full dozen years later Brahma materializes before him.

Our Rationalist asks Brahma to grant him 3 boons: A, B, & C.

Brahma is pleased to grant all of them, and is on the point of vanishing, like the Cheshire Cat, to attend to other customers.

Our Rationalist then laughs at Brahma and taunts him: "Tell me what eraser, pen and ink you have just now used to overwrite on your earlier writing on my forehead"

Brahma smiles and replies: "None; I read your face when you started this foolish penance and found it was written on it that I had to wait 12 full years to grant you these three boons A, B, & C...."

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This is precisely what Einstein meant when he said: "God does not play dice".

According to him, God had already written on the face of the World (Welten) He created at the Big Bang that Heisenberg will be born 15 billion years later (Varun?) and discover God's own Uncertainty Principle.

Also that Einstein should rue his Cosmological Constant as his Biggest Blunder (Himalayan, according to Jyoti-da); but that this rollicking invention of his should have nine lives like Schrodinger's Cheshire Cat: Grin, Delete & Disappear...Grin, Delete & Disappear...

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A Yankee arrives in London, buys the latest Rolls Royce from their Showroom and embarks on his lifetime desire: to drive through the enchanting woods of the English Countryside.

Pretty soon, the rear axle of his car breaks in the middle of nowhere. He unzips his latest Apple (or Berry) and with a flick of his finger dials Customer Service.

Within minutes a helicopter with the Rolls Royce insignia hovers and a Mechanic in overalls with the same famed insignia drops down with a new rear axle tagged to his back, replaces the broken one, tags it and is about to climb back into their hovering helicopter.

Our Yankee is astonished and asks the Mechanic about his Bill and is told to contact the Rolls Royce HQ by Air Mail (Par Avion, Mit Luftpost) after he is back home in his Yankeeland.

Which he does.

And receives a one-line reply:

"Rear axles of Rolls Royce don't break"

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