Frankly, my dear, ...

(I had plans for something else, as I had indicated in a comment previously, but this here was just too big a revelation to leave unmentioned till later.)

It is not a few times in the past that I have found myself speechless in response to questions on my stand on theism. Do I believe in a God? Or in gods? Or in invisible pink unicorns? Am I a black shirt (Periyar, not Mussolini)? Or am I an agnostic? If so, an agnostic theist or an agnostic atheist?

Many a time have I contemplated upon the above myself, never consistently settling on a set of views - one day there just had to be something that set off the Big Bang, and the next the very same argument seemed naive - it would only be a matter of time before physicists would discover what really happened, right? (But some aspects of any such being that could possibly exist were definitely ruled out - omniscience seemed a bit too unnatural, really not very necessary, and if were possessed, only indicated injustice and intolerance on the part of the god; omnipotence, of course, has long been defeated by diagonalisation. (I have a lot to thank Cantor for.))

I am aware, mind you, that there are numerous arguments against these beliefs, and counters to those and so on; you shall see why I do not consider them here.

For reasons I cannot recall, the following passages somehow came to mind sometime before dinner today and with them, again for reasons unknown, the sudden realisation that this was precisely the stand I would like to take, and also a sense of relief not too different from what one would expect upon having solved a difficult mathematical problem after an entire evening's effort. Funny how one can land up with a thought and have no idea whatsoever how one got there.

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he might be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized human being in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.
"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression of surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it."
"To forget it!"
"You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."
"But the Solar System!" I protested.
"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work."

-A Study in Scarlet, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

 So there.

PS: Note the expression "What the deuce...". Worth adopting?

Sherlock Homes is NOT James Bond

And I'll say it again, in case you missed it - Sherlock Holmes is NOT James Bond.

To start with a placement of this matter in context, I shall have you know that Sir Doyle is to me what J.K.Rowling is to what is arguably a vast majority of my generation. When Potter fans were boarding their first train at nine and three-quarters at King's Cross, I was witnessing the discovery of a reagent to identify blood stains in the chemical laboratory of a hospital a few miles away; when they were collected by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, I was watching puffs of tobacco smoke swirl away into non-existence in a cluttered room on the first floor of a London residence; as their heroes were on their numerous trips through the castle under an invisibility cloak, mine was all but invisible as an old woman, or perhaps a priest, or a servant in the household of Charles Augustus Milverton, anything, anyone; when they were flying around their open castle grounds on brooms and invisible flying horses, I was in a hansom, darting across the Thames on one of its many bridges through fog as blinding as darkness itself; as they were battling three-headed dogs, I was hunting a single-headed one on the marshes of Dartmoor; as they witnesses the Dark Lord go down to a tame disarming spell, I was at the top of a waterfall in Switzerland watching one of the greatest minds in the world plunge into the torrent below.

And finally, as Potter fans are feeling sad that the movie franchise has also come to an end, and more so that the last one was quite a bit of a disappointment (at least I thought it was), I am more or less furious about what Guy Ritchie has done to one of the greatest and most memorable literary characters of all time. Of course, Guy Ritchie is a great director; in fact, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is one of my favourite movies. He can handle an ensemble cast like no one else can, and his ability to put together twists, action and an almost comic narrative is unmatched as far as I know. Not that the movie (Sherlock Holmes) was bad - it was quite good. Just that what he did to Holmes in it is quite unforgivable. 

To begin with, Irene Adler was brought in - she is a very remarkable character, one of very few to outwit Holmes, and the movie does little justice to her by presenting her as Moriarty's crony. I believe that even involving her was sort of a mistake, as appearing in only one short story and being mentioned for her brilliance in but a few other places lent her a certain esoteric quality that the movie took away.

Next, Robert Downey Jr. made for a very bad Holmes. I could hardly identify the character I am very familiar with. A lot of things were amiss somehow - the manner, the voice, his physical build, etc. But then, I'm being a bit of a snob here - I don't think I can hope that every portrayal will be as good as that of Jeremy Brett's in the TV series (which, by the way, was very good and quite honest too).

Also, there was too much action in the movie. As the title reads, Holmes is not Bond, and while Doyle's stories were often sensational, there was a boat chase in one of the novels and The Final Problem exists, explosions were never part of them. Yes, he was an expert single-stick fighter, champion boxer and knew Japanese wrestling, but Holmes does not need to shoot bad guys to solve a case and has hardly ever done that, one instance being that guy who tries to shoot poison darts at him and Watson in The Sign of Four.

Because of these and a few other reasons that I cannot recollect now, I felt the movie was very unfair to Holmes and his fans. In fact, I had guessed it would be so as soon as I saw the movie's trailer. And I'll tell you why I care - a lot of people today haven't read Doyle's work. While they are greatly accustomed to Holmes being the archetypal detective owing to the character's immense popularity and the uncountable references made to him in various forms of media, they do not know him for what he really is, for they have not read the original works - this is a sad but curious fate that Holmes shares with Dracula. This being so, it is reasonable to believe that many of those who are exposed only to the movies will come to believe that this is what Holmes is - a boxer with Max Payne style slow motion powers instead of the forensic genius that he is, and hence would not understand his being an honorary fellow of the Royal Society of Chemistry (yes, he is a fellow - for real, not in the stories), and that shall be a great source of worry to me.

I saw Guy Ritchie's movie quite some time back, actually. The reason this came up now is that I have come to hear that he's making another one. Again, having seen the trailer, I'm not really looking forward to it. Apparently, Adler is still there, and this one shall have Professor Moriarty more in the open. The only good thing I see about it is that Stephen Fry is being cast as Mycroft Holmes who, as you may have noticed, is my favourite character. The role should fit him well, and it would have been really swell if only they had brought in Hugh Laurie as Sherlock Holmes too, for that would accomplish two things that should be very exciting - the possibility of an honest portrayal of Holmes (he's had loads of practice in House, you know) and the great comedy duo of Fry and Laurie starring together again.