Status: Completed but Unpublished. Is being considered by other publishers but none have seen the complete manuscript as of now. The author shall immediately notify all concerned if he gets a good deal. The novel does end at the last chapter but has an immense potential to grow in its middle. It can be possible through an interactive recording and documentation of patient narratives collected from a global audience and their subsequent insertion in various chapters that aim to look artistically at disease. Interactive novels are nothing new and may not inspire interest but incorporating patient narratives into novels has definitely not yet been tried. Most humans have been patients at some time or the other and their medical history forms a rich data base for this new genre of medical novels that I wish to introduce in this first work.
Target audience: For all interested in the science and fantasy of medicine (It’s not about religion). The word God can be substituted by Con if God acts as a ‘put off’.
Word count: Approximately 65,000
Genre:Postmodern multi genre combining elements of Science, Fantasy and Romance.
Saved in: 12 point Times New Roman Small chapters saved on a single word page with page break at the end of a chapter Chapter headings in 16 point "bold" Times New Roman No page numbers No headers or footers Use of italics instead of underlining.
DISCLAIMER All works of fiction draw on real life data and the present work is no exception. The data has been meticulously distorted substantially to remove all possible real life links. Any resemblance to a real life person would be purely coincidental.
Caring For God's Laptop
To all the dead bodies who taught us anatomy
To all our patients who taught us medicine
To all systems that need trouble shooting
Living or non living, sleek, shining, functional or worn, withered and junked
Subjective Synopsis (A synopsis objectified on demand exists in the middle of the manuscript)
God is fascinated with his walking and talking human laptop so much so that he’s completely immersed in its innards, which conjure remarkable dream sequences in its LCD screen from time to time. Gradually he begins to believe the laptop isn’t separate from him and completely forgets he’s God. All he can recollect from his Godly existence is a black LCD screen all around with a boring drone of Aum coming from time to time. The screen saver dreams, on the human laptop come as a lifesaver but is at the same time a vulnerable toy, prone to disease and disrepair. God starts searching for a mechanic, who knows all about his human system. All he finds is a host of assembly line workers who know bits and pieces but can’t tackle his system as a whole.
Finally he meets the professor who advises him to learn system trouble shooting, but for which he needs to make a fresh start as a medical student in an Earthy material plane. God comes to Earth into the family of Samsara and Maya who name their daughter Juneli, who grows up to be a medical student and an accomplished physician. She learns a lot for God who utilizes her as his own laptop till he finishes learning the works. However in the midst of all this learning, which God realizes is endless and ever changing, his laptop, the body of June, is afflicted by a deadly virus.
The story line begins with God taking the plunge with his laptop June into the Earthy material life. A plunge that makes him fall through life and is bound to end in death. Death smashes his laptop’s hard disc into tiny bits and pieces. The nonlinear narrative as a result tries to pick up these broken fragments and brings out God’s journey through the human body in its tree like statistical self-similarity with the Earth and the universe, which exists in an atom. It portrays microcosmic interactions inside the human body at a macrocosmic level of day to day living on an Earthy scale. God becomes well versed with the anatomy and circuitry of the various intricate components of his machine but also realizes that it has developed in an evolving assembly line whose creators are long dead and nobody till date understands perfectly how the damn thing works. However there are theories, stories of atoms and molecules and their subatomic families regularly utilized to explain how semi conductor chips work inside our bodies. Throughout the ages, stories take on multicolored hues, theories on the nature of God, Earth and self-evolving machines…the science is ever changing.
What you see in front of you is not just darkness. It’s like you have no sight. Now imagine you aren’t hearing me either. There’s no sound except a soft drone, which drifts out from a deep black hole from time to time. Well… in such instances you might feel the soft rustle of air around or the saliva at the back of your tongue or become aware of the perfume your neighbor’s put on but lets think that you aren’t able to feel all this either…there’s just space, no atmosphere to speak of, no stars coming out, no taste or touch, none of the five senses at all. Our story begins right here where time stands still…no sound of my talking, no pin dropping only a drone which sounds vaguely like aum…hmmmmmmmmmm.
Welcome to the black hole of Nirvana…universal consciousness. I know it’s boring to be bereft of the senses especially when you know there’s a thriving world full of revelers right in this black hole, who are like ordinary human beings talking, listening, jostling, tickling each other, enjoying their beers, having sex, in short having a real good time. Another thirty seconds of silence in this heart of darkness and you will understand the predicament of God, the hero of our story. He’s been holed up here since God only knows what time…ages maybe but then again time here stands still…as if waiting.
Gods are actually ordinary people who had eaten the forbidden fruit on Earth. They wanted badly to merge into the main stream of universal consciousness, they also wanted peace and there was only one way out for them…unplug all sensory inputs from their system…with each and every bite on the apple, cut off all desires and reach the state in which all of you are now, if not for my incessant yapping. I shall stop here and leave you with nirvana for company just another 30 seconds…give you the feeling of what it’s like to be God, poor God.
Once the threads are set…must continue to weave
A note from Sutra:
I am not to be mistaken for the author himself. The author to relate his story is using me. My Bengali name is Sutra Dhar, which doesn’t necessarily mean storyteller but someone who threads and weaves a story. The things, which I relate, may happen in both the real, the author’s world and the imaginary, reel…my world. I am a bridge between the two worlds. The picture in front of you shows a man crossing the street. He’s not the author or myself or even the sponsor for our story. He’s an ordinary nameless human, the focus of our story.
He is an ordinary man who’s weirdly fascinated by the ordinary people living around him in an extraordinary world. He revels in the stories churned out by their interactions with each other and the macro-microcosmic environment. He gorges on them daily as if they were a staple item in his daily diet of thought. I may not be the only storyteller on whom the author has bestowed sole copyright. There are others from the author’s world of ordinary people. You might wonder whether they are people at all. You would also hear stories related by a virus, a red blood corpuscle or even a protein molecule masquerading as a snake or squirrel. Sometimes you might hear the lord almighty talking to you.
Story of Samsara
To come back again to the beginning of time, even before the sperm comet hit our ovum planet, let’s take a look at the source of our comet and planet. After all, the universe is just a collection of narrative matter strung together by time.
Samsara which means the universe is only one of the characters in this story. He wasn’t always bad in academics; in fact one should say he excelled in them. On leaving school, he managed to sail into the best technological institutes in the country, all because he had a way with mathematics. Numbers talked to him. They pulled at his hair, splashed water on him and teased him often sending him into frenzy…more so when he was presented with a problem, which was difficult and impossible for the average student.
It was off course rare to find him tied down to problems, which he always liked to call challenges, as he would have solved most of them in a jiffy. Unfortunately he also bagged at the same time a seat in medical school as his aggregate in physics and chemistry gave him an edge even if his biology was just passable. His parents decided that as his elder brother was an engineer he had to be a doctor.
His medical student days were spent in rigorous studies but recurrent failures. He wasn’t actually studying the subjects’ medical school demanded but almost everything else, which included lengthy tomes on theoretical physics, combinatorial chemistry and non-linear dynamics. He took a number of years more than the average medical graduate to pass his finals and barely managed to finish his internship. Most of his batch mates had long finished their residencies and fellowships becoming busy assistant professors of Cardiology, Gastroenterology and the like in prestigious universities. His school-mates way behind his mathematical abilities who had nevertheless got into engineering now held important positions in high tech academic institutes as well as the corporate sector. His parents had by now realized their mistake and come to terms with the fact that their son wouldn’t after all become a medical man even if he’d managed to scrape through medical school. They hoped he’d take up a government medical officer’s job. His cousin was doing well earning hefty bribes signing false post mortem reports. He had already built a bungalow, bought a car.
However Samsara Sen was made of different fiber. He believed in following his bliss. He had toyed with the idea of appearing again for the technological Institutes entrance exams during his med school days but somehow was then too absorbed with theoretical physics to even bother about a career in engineering. He believed his bliss lay in talking to his beloved numbers…Listening all day to the melodious chatter of mathematics.
Class…. Hard clinical analyses or a bit of velvet, warm
Hi! I am still
there…Sutra that’s my name and what you see in front of you is a classroom.
It’s a class on trouble shooting humans the professor teaches in the
Here in the visual before you, you see people, looking like real world students, politely and patiently hearing their professor’s discourse. From time to time you can see them interrupting, questioning, themselves discussing at length on the topic. You can’t hear them, nor can you see the professor. You can only see him through his students.
Samsara’s Break- A new life format
Finally he did get the break he was looking for right after he finished medical school, which had cost him more than a decade in his academic career. There was a Masters of technology curriculum that offered courses in biomedical engineering, which allowed medical graduates to join, provided they had basic knowledge of math and physics. He jumped at it and sailed through the entrance exams, the childish physics and math problems they had set for world-weary doctors who were expected to have forgotten most of their math. The very first day he was introduced to his guide who was an impressive asstt professor at both the local medical school as well as the technological institute. He had actually done his MD in medicine after completing a graduate degree in engineering. He asked Samsara to work on preparing a better variety of condom, not exactly a Herculean task if not for the fact that it required Samsara to measure the penile sizes of the average male in the area for whom the condom was being planned.
Samsara fell back on his quest for the truth
in the non linear chirping of numbers. He started chatting up the campus math
professors who were reasonably intimidated by his stupendous mathematical
knowledge, which by now had been flavored with creations of his own and lack of
pedigree. He felt he should switch over to masters in mathematics but then
being a medical graduate there was no way he could do that. In
Imagine if people were numbers! That was the only way Samsara would be able to continue the anthropology course. If he could have his way he’d have converted all alphabets and written words into mathematical symbols. He sometimes wondered if people could communicate using only a universal language of mathematical symbols. He did his thesis explaining just this possibility and envisaged a hypothetical village where people talked in terms of mathematical interpretations of day-to-day life signals. A lot of interesting papers followed once his thesis was published, with others citing his work as a primer to a future advanced mathematical civilization that for the time being started proliferating in journals if not on solid Earth. He became a prolific paper publisher and introduced novel mathematical concepts in anthropological data collection that nearly kicked out the traditional ethnographic approach. Alpha diversity measured as number of species and families of humans in a given plot along with their compositional change of species and families from one plot to another (beta diversity or turnover), calculated as a chord distance or dissimilarity index were old and inefficient for him. He longed for an index, which could measure and compare all the infinite data a person’s day-to-day narrative generated.
To all members of this mailing list
An email from “the Lord Almighty”
Call me God for short. You can’t see me and strictly speaking you aren’t supposed to hear me either. I am speaking on a borrowed voice; this is an electronic voice mail.
You do hear my voice inside your head while you are reading this. You may be puzzled as this sounds like Sutra’s voice as you have become familiar with it but I assure you Sutra’s just a talking machine, a teller…don’t confuse me with him. This is definitely God speaking.
I just wanted to clarify a few things on this class of the professor. You might have heard about it from the teller and I am not a teller or professor myself but in plain and simple Godly terms, “trouble shooting humans”, is an endeavor which is increasingly becoming very important for my day to day survival. Initially humans developed as a means of communication for Gods. We were increasingly getting tired of the quantum ocean of pure consciousness with its irritating drone of Aummmmmmmm emerging from the depths like a burp from time to time serving as our only input. We decided we needed badly to have some fun. Bathe in a running stream for instance. Yeah! Yawn. The stream of consciousness beats the ocean any day, yawn. Gosh…those streaming videos last night were real tiring.
Re: To all members of this mailing list
Aaargh! What a way to get back one’s voice. Dear members of the list. Please don’t believe a word that God says. I’ve long since given up believing in him. Communications indeed! All they care about is having fun with us poor human machines. Without us they don’t have an existence at all. They use our five senses to the hilt whenever they can…all their idea of having fun. They never think of the consequences, the wear and tear we suffer, the diseases they have wrought on us…we’ll talk about the diseases in detail later. After all that is the purpose of this class…learning to trouble shoot humans. However before that we must understand the true nature of the God human relationship.
God human interface
Look at this slide…you might think you’ve seen this slide before. “An ordinary man crossing the street” slide. That’s God with his laptop, the walking and talking kind. Now you might ask me where his laptop is as you obviously can’t see one with him. Well actually he is the laptop. God’s own laptop…what you don’t see is God.
God’s battery powered laptop
The human laptop runs on batteries powering all its innumerable muscle cells generating outputs in all its activities of daily living. These batteries are again inside specialized cells organized into components concerned solely with channeling energy into the output generating muscle cells. Now you might wonder where God gets all the energy. The answer lies in the Sun, which supplies energy packets to trees. One of the activities of our laptop’s daily living is devoted primarily to consuming energy through stuff that come from trees. All this stuff is fed into a pipeline with a wiring system of its own. The wiring delivers current that causes the muscle cells in the pipe to contract leading to an autonomic wave of peristaltic activity, which God is oblivious of after his daily meals.
Apart from the laptop’s auto-mode activities there’s a generous allowance for God’s free will. God hits the thought keys on his laptop for data input and it produces an output directed primarily at the muscle cells. Cells, which give us our facial expressions, propagate our chemical individuality. Be it a smile or a dance maneuver, innumerable muscle cells of the microcosm sway like flexible bands attached to rigid skeletal rods on our macrocosmic laptop. They combine to produce a coordinated output manifesting as a cosmic dance. The last time God remembers dancing like that was just before the lights went out. He was dancing like mad with his wife’s corpse on his shoulders. Shiva dancing destruction, theorists termed it later and Taoist physicists compared it to the annihilation of the atom.
An email to his readers from Sutra
I am sending a copy of my manuscript a fictional post modern medical novel, the synopsis and a few sample chapters over to you by a separate mail. Could you go through them in your spare time and give me your valuable opinion, which would be required to modify it constructively/destructively even before I can think of a publisher. Do reply and let me know if you would like to see it following which I can send it over in a separate mail.
The first feedback I got was unfortunately not positive. The very able physician-writer I asked for a review said despite his own interest in East meets West issues – the nature of your commentary, with religious overtones just didn’t do it for him. The literary critic has given a preliminary response that was similar – again with some difficulty getting past the religious metaphor. He said he plans to read it more in depth and will give his final feedback then.
I’m sorry to pass along difficult
news. Nonetheless, your concern for social justice shines through as far
as I’m concerned. You may however, if you want to publish in the
I was surprised to know that my work appears religious. I thought I was the last person on Earth to be religious. Possibly it was my use of the God Metaphor that was off putting and off-course my smatterings of Indian philosophy, which appears religious but is far from it, actually it was written in a very irreverent vein…Most Indians would understand this but then they wouldn't perhaps appreciate the other part. Possibly because the poetry in my work didn't make itself clear it got misconstrued as religiosity. I am a religious atheist actually. The apparent but not true religious parts were written to satisfy the demands of the self evolving narrative. However all said and done the work needs to be modified and made better palatable and the religious overtones have to be selectively weeded out. I wish I could identify them? I shall still need your help for that and I understand its asking too much from your busy schedule but you could reply taking your time. I shall continue working on it and do thank you for all your co-operation. Do you think if I send them the middle of the book with the social justice part it would make a difference? You made me believe in myself and I shall always be grateful for that. Sutra
Lets be natural numbers
Samsara got an appointment in the faculty
of Anthropology in
“Let there be no control, he addressed a gathering of visibly alarmed and uncomfortable professors, no bindings of integrals or differentials, just let them be natural numbers and watch their natural history.” His next flurry of papers was addressed to the issue of how not to help people actively and fall into the trap of having to control a cyclical bludgeoning debt that whirlpool you into a suffocating tunnel. It was mainly about how to simply observe and revel in the magic of the natural unperturbed oscillation. His favorite quote by Nicholas Shakespeare (which he noted down from a calendar) was, “There are too many people trying to change this world, who couldn’t change a fuse.”
His forays into human relationships led him
into the adjoining villages around their Sushunia campus, a place with plenty
of rock outcrops inviting a number of rock climbing groups from
One particular community in the villages that fascinated and fuelled his passion for the natural state was that of the ‘Bauls’. They were singing philosophers who had the average human desires and yet radiated a flair for enjoying life through music. Somehow music was not immiscible with Samsara’s mathematical passions. He had been trained in vocal Indian classical from childhood and had the ability to recognize the notes and classify them as soon as he heard a line from any raga. He didn’t like the smoking and drinking habits of the bauls but when they sang he found the world he had been looking for.
The Serpent boss
Here in this visual you see God dancing on a serpent’s head. Well it’s not really God but one of his symbolic representations human laptops can ever hope to see. Looks like a black child holding a flute or is it a silent serpent whistle? Eastern mythologies can be so in exacting! The laptop is just an assortment of cells…cells that will turn to dust one day…return to silicon mother Earth that is. Cellular functions, which give expression to God’s laptop, are due to one chemical individual, which resides inside a nucleus burrowed deep into cellular earth or cytoplasm if you fancy. It’s a huge coiled serpent, a fixed assortment of molecules, which populate the cellular environment. These molecules have been specifically combined permanently for each particular individual laptop. This serpent is what gives God’s laptop its chemical individuality. Deep inside the center of Earth, it peers out of its burrow and surveys the goings on like a ruling monarch keeping an eye on its subjects. Many molecules, responsive elements come to his nuclear pore window with begging bowls and he turns down no one. At times he uncoils himself and holds out his own molecules to be copied into a complement RNA which like a faithful messenger goes out to the ribosome in the cytoplasm and works with another serpent RNA that transfers all amino acids near it into an orderly sequence as demanded by the code on its back. All these amino acids are bricks for building the serpent’s empire that grows as the Earth grows. The serpent, Shiva’s consort represents Shakti, the power that is necessary to drive all the energy God’s laptop acquires in its daily bread.
A zillion snoopings…hidden files
The Samsara you see nowadays going on about well dressed with his wife is different from the Baulish vagabond he was before marriage. He had even brought a Baul to the classroom one day and made the students have a whale of a time while the baul fixed his cannabis on to the kolke (a pipe…sort of). He was lucky the principal hadn’t barged in when the kolke passed on to the hands of some of his students. They had started taking polite swigs at the delicate cannabis that douses off if not puffed at frequently. They said they were just holding the kolke for the baul, while he sang a full-throated Lalan fakir. Here you can see some of Samsara’s hidden files, which he has shared only with Maya his wife. I am sure he won’t mind you all a peep.
Samsara they tell me is all Maya and that is what I like to think my wife is. We met for the first time amidst a few dolphins frolicking somewhere nears a remote island in the sea. We still have this custom of arranged marriages, not everyone is good enough to pick their own partners you see.
She looked too good to be true and I was a bit intimidated at first. Could she really like me? Then we got started talking and there was some magic working. The next thing you know, we decided to get engaged the very day after. Lobsters and other variety of fishes, there were so many its difficult to remember, entertained us with songs and food. The marriage date was fixed a bit too late for my liking. I had begun liking her so much that the next few months of wait were intolerable.
We are in a train chugging through the sea. On both sides are a variety of trees bobbing up and down with fervor. There are more fields than trees. Fields of Arhar resembling a Bonsai jungle and wheat fields with a few sarsons thrown in between. Suddenly there’s a gigantic wave seen from the widow with the trees too going up along with it as the train passes a mountain.
Unpublished novel for all interested in the science and fantasy of medicine. Not about religion, but a postmodern multi genre combining elements of Science, Fantasy and Romance