How Much Can You Change Someone Before It’s Murder?

This title was chosen by my research guide. It is a simplified/distorted/corrupted version of the following quote:

How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder? -Richard Siken, "War of the Foxes"

The quote felt very familiar to me; as if I had read it somewhere. True enough, when I searched for the quote, I understood (from the search results) that this has been made popular by Instagram and Facebook. It is very apparent why it became so popular on social media: it is simple, easy to understand, and yet so abstract.

Me, being the armchair-philosopher that I am, was very much intrigued to write a blog on it but then my goofy side led me to make it mostly about the lighter side of it. The flow of this blog mirrors the thought-process for this blog. No alterations there. Hence, one will be able to see me breaking out into random, unrelated topics often (like now).

First, the pictures:

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3.0

Step 3.1

Step 4

Through the series of pictures, starting with a seemingly innocent, if not a bit unfortunate, we see a bike missing a wheel. As we progress through the series, we get to see different stages of bikes, getting stripped off of their parts slowly. But, as one can notice, one thing that stays constant from the starting till the end, is the triangle shape of the body- for without that, it would be really difficult to make out that it is, in fact, a bike. One could all this triangular frame the soul of the bike.

How I Ended Up With These Pictures:

Ashma, who lives halfway across the globe, shared these pictures over time, showing the gradual disassembly of the bike outside her apartment. Diverting a little from our main topic:

When you look at it, they are just random pictures, exchanged like we often do — random snippets of our lives that we keep sending each other. Looking back, I also realise that even before we ever became friends, I would always ask her to send pictures of snowfall and autumn, which, again, is very random to say the least.

This behaviour of ours (yes, I thought about it for a bit), I find is very suitable for me, for it somehow keeps my inner child alive, which I feel is required if one is in a creative field. It’s like how, as kids, we used to share the random-est things with our friends — telling each other about the strangest things we encountered, making up games on the fly, or just talking for the sake of talking. There was no agenda, no big plan, just pure interaction for the joy of it. In a way, our friendship (and thankfully most of my friendships) has kept that sense of innocence and wonder alive.

A Comparison to Human Beings:

Compare bikes getting stripped down and yet holding on to their original identity to normal people and fucked up in their own ways, some more than others, still retaining a human soul- something that makes them human. Still people hang on, for existence is enough. The tale speaks something fundamental about both resilience and essence.

Take the triangular frame of the bike: it is the core structure, the soul of the bike, if you will. Even when the pedals are missing, when the wheels are gone, when the seat is stripped, we see it and recognise it as a bike. It retains its core, no matter how many of its parts are lost or altered.

This is much like people. We come in different forms, each of us shaped by our experiences—some worn down by life more than others. We may lose pieces of ourselves along the way, metaphorically speaking, through heartbreak, failure, or trauma. Yet, there is always something inside that binds us to our humanity, something unbroken that allows us to still be recognised as human.

To me, the best example was given by the anthropologist, Margret Mead (as mentioned in Ira Byrock's book) when she said

"The first sign of civilization in an ancient culture was a femur (thighbone) that had been broken and then healed. In the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink or hunt for food. You are meat for prowling beasts. No animal survives a broken leg long enough for the bone to heal. A broken femur that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has bound up the wound, has carried the person to safety and has tended the person through recovery."

Note: This quote by Margret Mead is very wholesome to say the least, and that is the reason why it is shared so widely. Yet, I found out that it might not be true at all from another beautiful blog. One can look up the truthiness of the Margret Mead quote here.

True or not, it doesn't matter much to me, for I am using it more for the philosophy than the actual anthropological and scientific truthfulness of it.

This quote truly shows the core of what makes us human. Not just our ability to survive physically, but our capacity to care for one another, to heal and nurture each other back from brokenness. No animal with a broken leg survives in the wild because survival is purely a matter of self-reliance (highly debatable, but for the sake of the philosophy, let's assume that it is true). But humans? Humans stay. We sit with the broken, we tend to the wounded, and in that shared connection, we see something that connects all humanity — our compassion, our care. It is like how you sit down with a friend when they are heartbroken: they have nothing to give, you have nothing to take away, but you just stay.

Hand prints in a cave in Argentina

I was recently looking at cave paintings from Argentina, and that got me wondering: there's another very 'human' need of making a mark in this world, saying, "Hey! I was here!". That has been a driving force since the time we were just hunter-gatherers. It is easy to think of hunter-gatherers as being predecessors to us, having nothing else in mind other than survival. This cave painting tells otherwise. Here are people reaching 9000 years into the future, screaming, "Hey! See, I was here!". It is so poetic, so human that it got me emotional. Just look at it! There's nothing in the painting, just negative prints of a few hands, and yet we see the humanity in it. The person who did the first one, might not have even known or expected for it to last longer than his life maybe. Oh, leave that person: think about us, staring at this painting. Can you imagine 9000 years? Leave that, can you even imagine 900 years? It is difficult, isn't it? Humanity has outlived humans.

We talk about "making our mark". But how many people really have a real, tangible impact?

These are few of those invisible threads that ties us all together, a shared soul of humanity, just as the frame holds the bike’s form (and identity) together no matter how stripped down it becomes.

And just like the bike, which might lose parts over time; but then, it still remains a bike till it's not melted down into something entirely different. Likewise, humans, no matter how damaged, carry within them a soul. That soul is resilient, sometimes scarred. When the soul vanishes, we then like to say "he/she is an animal!". It's the invisible element that connects us all, that makes us more than just bodies moving through life. Even when we’re "stripped down," something inside us remains recognisable, worthy of care and love.

A Little Mythological Philosophy:

When I first saw these pictures, I was reminded of Draupadi (Panchali, Krishna, or howsoever you might know her). Yes, I am a huge Mahabharata fan. I used to love reading and listening to stories from Mahabharata. Hell, I even started writing my own Mahabharata when I was a teenager, back in 2015. It was my first (unsuccessful) attempt to write a book (which I will try to finish in this lifetime maybe?). That's besides the fact that I am really into the story.

Recently, as I am writing my book on the Kishorachandrananda Champu, I started getting into the philosophical aspect of texts. Looking into each action, each character, from a philosophical point of view. Such a perspective can help a person look at a particular text from a different angle altogether and it can be so fascinating.

AI generated image of Draupadi sitting by a heap of clothes. Dushasana could not be included in this for it violated the AI's rules.

I think my target audience (the 2-3 people that do read my blog) would be familiar with the Vastraharan episode of the Mahabharata. Nevertheless, I shall be providing a short summary for the same: Yudhishthira (eldest of the protagonist side) was invited for a gambling match with Duryodhana (eldest of the antagonist side). Here it should be noted that, Duryodhana was exploiting Yudhishthira's only weakness, i.e., gambling. In this gambling duel, Yudhishthira lost everything, including himself and his brothers. In a last attempt to redeem himself, he wagered his wife, Draupadi and lost her too. At this moment, Karna (a friend of Duryodhana) asked for Draupadi to be presented in the court before everybody for she was their "property". Draupadi strongly spewed questions in the court, asking the elders of the court if they were being able to see what was happening in front of their eyes. And finally, Karna instructed Dushasana (second eldest brother of Duryodhana) to remove Draupadi's garments in front of the entire court (now you can see how I'm connecting the pictures to this). Just as Dushasana started removing Draupadi's clothes, she surrendered to God, who, through some miracle, made the drape so long that Dushasana kept pulling the drape and it kept piling on the court, thus never actually becoming successful in removing Draupadi's clothes.

Now, a very personal note: I somehow feel very connected to this thing and it always brings me to tears when Draupadi is brought to the court and she begs for protection to realise nobody is willing. It is such a powerful scene. Imagine the headspace of a fiercely independent girl, brought up as a princess, who has grown up to become a lady, a queen, a wife, after much struggle, asking for protection in open court — only for these cries to fall to deaf ears? The immense turmoil that must be brewing inside of her, the immeasurable shame she must be feeling, and above all, the helplessness! Mahabharata, like all texts, is not perfect. If it were up to me to decide, I would have gone in the same path as Bhima (Yudhishthira's younger brother) was suggesting- burning Yudhishthira's palms for holding the die that wagered Draupadi. Since, it is my imagination, I would not have stopped there, and gone on to punish every person present who did not stand up against this act. But, then coming back to the text, I understand that the very purpose of the text must have been to stir up a similar feeling inside of everybody, to heighten the tension.

Now, please excuse me for I shall not be going into the societal, and feminist part of it, for many others have already spoken/written on it. But I should make my stand clear on it before we move on to the philosophy part: I do not support any such notions and practices as in this episode- starting from the gambling, to wagering one's wife as if she were some "property", to humiliating her in front of the entire court.

Now, finally entering the philosophical part:

I heard about this point of view from somewhere, but I don't remember. If I ever do, I shall give them the due credits. We can view this final part of Vastraharan in a philosophical manner.

Draupadi's clothing becomes symbolic of the layers of protection we build around our soul—our metaphorical "walls"—which we often rely on to feel safe, secure, and emotionally stable. These layers can represent anything from self-confidence, relationships, material security, or mental defences we put up against external threats. Even I build walls (metaphorical) around me to keep myself safe and sane. Here is a link for the blog on that.

What happens when these walls crumble, when someone or something—like Dushasana in the story — manages to break through all those defences and hurts us deeply? When life overwhelms us and we find ourselves stripped of the very things we depended on for our sense of self and security, where do we turn? In that vulnerable, exposed state, the concept of surrendering to something larger than ourselves, surrendering to "God," or a higher power becomes a way to make peace with the fact, so that you are able to think clearly.

Maybe, if the bicycle's leftover triangle frame surrenders itself to whatever power it believes in, it might just be able to get an entirely new set of wheels, and everything that has been taken away from it by forces beyond its control. Or you never know- its creator (us human beings) might just find a completely new purpose for it! The important take away is that, the bike, which has only known how to be a bike its entire life, knows not the extent of its own potential, while us human beings, living at a higher state of consciousness, know. Now, take the bike to be you and the human to be something/somebody that is at a higher state of consciousness! Amazing way to think, isn't it?

Note: I don't believe in God as a traditional concept, I frame it in a way that is no way connected to any religious belief—God here is not necessarily a deity but a symbol of peace, inner strength, and the ultimate protector of one’s deeper self. It's an embodiment of an inner resolve that a person can turn to when they are stripped bare of external defences. When Draupadi realises that her own efforts to save herself are insufficient, she surrenders completely to Krishna (or to the higher self, if we view this from a more spiritual or non-theistic perspective). Here we get to learn that by letting go of control when everything feels like it’s falling apart, we get to tap into a different kind of power — a power that perhaps comes from within.

A ‘Cool Beauty in Math’ perspective:

I was advised by my research guide to pursue this topic. But, I'll have to just do with a citation, for another "research paper" on the same has been published. I found a blog which conveys exactly what I was trying to say. HERE is a link for the same.

The Last Section: An Introduction of Ashma

Statuesque Ashma by the statues of Konark

First things first. A picture.

Let me introduce you all to the ideator and the research-guide behind this paper, Ashma Pandya (soon to be Dr. Ashma Pandya). A little background about her and this post: Ashma is currently living in California, working on her PhD at none other than Caltech—yes, she's actually living the Big Bang Theory dream. Now that we've established that she's amazing, I can take a moment to boast that she’s my friend. If you're a regular reader of my blog (which, honestly, nobody really is... and if you were, I might judge you just a little! hahaha), you might already know about her through a few references here and there in a few blogs.

I am continuing writing this on 14th October, 21:57. Yes, the date and time is a little bit important. Today, the Europa Clipper was launched (at 21:36 IST), and it’s a pretty significant moment for Ashma's current college (Caltech) and her previous one (Johns Hopkins), as both have been deeply involved in this mission alongside NASA. Ashma, who is pursuing her PhD in astrobiology (the same field the mission revolves around), has her sights set on NASA as her goal—hopefully, like the Clipper, she’ll (surely) land there someday (pun absolutely intended).

It's funny how you don't know about things until they have happened. I had never imagined some fried of mine, including me in one of their core memories while being halfway across the globe. This is the beauty of placing no expectations from people, whilst having great friends— you get a lot of pleasant surprises. Some, like the one I am writing about, leave with a lingering sense of doubt at times — doubtful of whether you deserve such friends. But then I’ve learned to treat this doubt with a certain reverence. It’s a form of respect, not just for myself, but for the other person, who isn't some average Joe, who deemed it fit to call me a friend— whatever maybe the reason. And that trust and connection is something I choose to honour rather than dwell on the fact whether I deserve it or not.

Now, for context, I’ve never really seen a live space shuttle launch event before. Even during a Chandrayaan launch event, when my entire hostel was glued to the projector screen (at Ramjas College Hostel), I was the guy who slept through the whole thing like a baby. Now, consider that, and the fact that I had no clue about the Europa Clipper mission at all. Out of the blue, Ashma just sent me a link, and I thought, "Alright, let’s see our space-biology-research girl in action.".

Initially, I assumed she’d be in the event herself, but on asking, I found out she wasn’t—though her colleagues and boss were (at the launch site). To be honest, I felt a bit disappointed that she wasn’t there (don't worry, you shall see her there soon enough), but something in me told me to keep watching. Believe me when I say this: I sat through the entire 45 minutes till the launch, and even stayed on until the SpaceX boosters fell apart.

Later, I received a picture of a card with details about the mission (in short) and a video of celebratory (t-0) moment at the watch party of Caltech. And just looking at the video, it really felt like I was there. And this is exactly what I am talking about- the connection. We weren't even on video call and yet, I felt the adrenaline gush. Well, space launches be that way: showing the countdown clock and all. It literally felt like some being at New York during New Year type thing. It is very human to be pumped up; but here, I had another added invisible element too!