Black Boots, Black Day

You saw death approaching,
I apologized to the reaper.

You held a bloodied pen,
I used the ink for my politics.

You feared the black boots,
I bred them.

Your blood is on my hands.

Your pens, your papers, your notebooks,
Your backpacks, your books.

All soaked from your blood,
That blood is on my hands.

I live because you didn't,
That blood is on my hands.

You died because they didn't,
that blood is on my hands.

Red, not the blood of angry men,
But of your hope and my shame.

Rest In Peace. We, as a society, have failed you.

Coincidence

[This will be a small rant from a Mathematician's perspective, a fair warning.]

The word 'coincidence' is defined as "a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection" or as a "correspondence in nature or in time of occurrence."  

Too often I hear people use the word coincidence as something contrary to "God's will" or "the great plan." How can it be a coincidence when God exists? How can anything be so random? How can anything like that occur? 

Before I move on, let me define probability for you. It's a rather simplistic definition but necessary nonetheless. 1) Probability is the chance that something will happen - how likely it is that some event will happen. 2) The probability of an event is the measure of the chance that the event will occur as a result of an experiment. The probability of an event A is the number of ways event A can occur divided by the total number of possible outcomes. It is important to remember that probabilities do not tell you what will happen, only what is likely to happen. The distinction is very necessary. So when you say that the probability of Heads or Tails in a fair coin is .5 or 50%, you are essentially saying that if you keep flipping the coin and add all those probabilities, it adds up to or comes close to .5 or 50%. It is likely that there if a 50/50 chance of you getting Heads or Tails. It is unlikely, although not impossible, to flip a coin 20 times and get 20 Heads.

The chance of you getting hit by lightening is 1 in 700,000 in the U.S. What this means is that out of 700,000 times that lightening strikes in the U.S., the chance of you getting hit by it is once. That is the probability. You can call it coincidence or God's will or whatever you like, that's your prerogative. 

My problem is with the idea of devaluing the word 'coincidence.' Something is too much of a coincidence. Something occurring that simply can't happen without a greater will involved. The reason I have a problem with that is because it is taking the Math out of the equation and deeming it a farce. When you say the odds are too small for it to be a coincidence, you are denying the principles of Mathematics. You are saying that the Mathematical principles allow for this situation to exist are false simply because your mind is incapable of accepting the odds. The thing is, Mathematics isn't bound by the rules of this universe. You can adjust the variables and constants and go in dimensions our mind is incapable of imagining. Math allows you to consider alternate universes. So by saying, X is too big of a coincidence, you are insulting the principles of Mathematics. When Mathematicians calculate the probability of an event, that probability exists based on past events. It's deductive in nature. Dismissing that because your mind is incapable of understanding the odds is scientifically, and thus mathematically, inaccurate. The probability exists, not for your convenience, but because it is in nature. When you study Probability, you are told two things over and over again. 1) Correlation doesn't mean causation, and 2) You can never get a perfect probability of 1. The reason for the second statement is the possibility of not having recorded for any outliers. So Math accounts for any room there exists for an error. That's why you often see Mathematicians use terms like "almost surely" instead of "surely." It seems like a simple difference of one word but within that word lies an entire frame of reference. You are almost sure something happens but not sure because you are accounting for that freak chance where that thing deviates from the norm. And this is why saying something is too much of a coincidence is redundant and contrary. It can't be too big of a coincidence when it is a coincidence by nature. It can't be a coincidence and defy nature because nature already accounts for the possibility of that event happening.

P.S Correct me if you see any mathematical inaccuracies, I am but a student.

lilies

I haven't written in a while, lately that is how everything seems to begin. I haven't done _____ in a while. If someone asked me to describe what growing up feels like, I would probably say this. It is forgetting to do things you loved and learning to do things you need. It's not a bad thing but some nights are for submission, a silent bow to the past.
You know how when you were little and went back to school after summer vacations, a pencil would feel really weird in your hand? Your words were awkward scratches and sometimes you couldn't believe you had a more graceful rhythm? That's how I feel with words these days. Mine are too choppy, too erratic, too almost. There is a silent grace only practice can gift.
I wanted to talk about beautiful metaphors and analogies but all I can think of is this line by Agha Shahid Ali,

Look, how a God returns to his wrecked temple.

 How we return to our own wrecked temples, with madness and simplicity. Some days you are the tool and others you are the master. Regardless, you create.

On Loving Silently

Pakistanis, I believe, hold doctorates in loving silently.

There is the maid you had who would report you to your parents lest you strayed too far but who would also make you fries behind their back. The choukidaar you had who would always bring you candy. It didn't cost much, of course, but it was worth everything. There is that neighbor who you have known since you were little, the one who has given you rides to school many a times and let their home be a haven when you needed to escape yours.

Then you move on to grander expressions of love. You think of the PE teacher you had who made your life miserable but only because she believed in your potential. The first boy you had a crush on, when you had recently discovered what those wobbly knees meant. Letters and notes passed with the best friend, sly glances, asking for ink for your fountain pen knowing fully well he didn't carry an ink pot and you always had one. The innocent fluttering of butterflies that have just left their cocoons. 

And then there is love so profound it becomes your lungs. You know it's there but you rarely pause to think of it because if you started thinking about it, there wouldn't be much else left to think about. The friends you made when you were little, loyalty so fierce that it still knocks the wind out of you. You know, in your heart, that if you call up those friends now, fifteen years later, you could ask for their left hand and they would be willing to give. I have rarely seen the loyalty Pakistanis feel towards friendship elsewhere. (Believe me, I have looked.) And then you think of your immediate family. You brothers and sisters and cousins and uncles and aunts and your parents. It is an ocean. Immeasurable depth, wild waves, stormy nights, stormier mornings, serenity at 2 pm on a hot day. My God, and the life of it. So much to it that it drives you insane. 

No, no one does love like Pakistanis do. It is silent, in all it's glory. Take your poetic confessions and give me silence worth all our thoughts. Yes, that is love.