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Six Inches to Randomness
There are some moments in life that refuse to leave us.
REFLECTIVE
7/18/20264 min read
What happened next became part of India's history.
There was an ear crippling blast outside. This was one of the twelve serial bomb blasts that occurred in Mumbai on that day and shook the city. The showroom glass broke with a bang and splinters hurled all over inside the waiting area. Several persons were injured, some severely. Three were dead on the spot. The whole area was smeared with human blood.
My dad survived, but.
By his own account, death missed him by barely six inches when a large glass splinter whirled passed him. The front desk staff was lucky as he stooped behind the desk before the splinter hit him. But, the fellow customer sitting left to my dad was not so lucky-he was injured near to death. Smaller glass splinters hit my dad’s shirt as if they have been sprayed on him. He was taken to the nearby hospital by the ambulance. Sitting at my desk in my office in Bahrain my desk phone rang at 4pm,IST. The ring sound somehow I felt was uncanny. It was a call from a hospital in Mumbai. Humm! I was told that my dad has been injured in a blast but that he will be discharged by a first aid only. There was a bad news and a good news at the same time. A word from dad, however, on the phone was most relieving. Ya, by 6pm he was at home. But, many others were not so lucky.
For years, I replayed that image in my mind.
Six inches.
Not six miles.
Not six minutes.
Just six inches.
What do we call such an event?
Chance?
Luck?
Coincidence?
Destiny?
Or something for which our language has no adequate word?
This essay is my attempt—not to answer those questions, but to sit with them.
Years later, I came across Albert Einstein's famous statement:
"God does not play dice with the universe."
Time passed by…
It was 14h March,2025, the Holi festival day in India. The time was 7pm.
I was standing on the footpath, six inches away from the road edge. The road was practically empty as most people playing Holi colors in day time get exhausted enough to come out of homes in the evening.
Out of nowhere some biker hit me on right shoulder from behind and sped away. I fell on the ground, injured, blood oozing out of left face and the right palm-by which I had tried to save myself from even more severe impact.
Had I been standing a few inches less than six from the edge of the road the impact could have been far more severe. Or, if I was hit a few inches more towards to the left of the shoulder it could have been a serious injury. I could have been maimed for the rest of the life, or been fatal !
Six inches-Separated by 32 years, but connected by the same haunting image, I found myself asking the same question.
Science camouflages it by naming it as chance-a specific instance of randomness, and measures it by probability.
Our scriptures would have called it as प्रारब्ध Prarbdh karma- a part of सन्चीत Sanchit karma which is defined as karma accumulated from previous life(s).
Bhakti philosophy have called it लीला lila-manifestation of the Almighty.
I do not know whether that six inches was a chance. Or, was it karma as ‘God doesn’t play dice!’-a precise throw by Him. I remembered the famous quote from Goswami Tulsidas ‘होइहि सोइ जो राम रचि राखा। को करि तर्क बढ़ावै साखा॥ ' ‘It shall happen as Lord Rama/God wants, friend, why you have to apply any logic!’. I only know that it changed the way I look at life.
For thirty-two years, I thought I was trying to understand my dad's story. Then, that evening on the day of Holi, I realized I had become part of the same story.
The more I reflected on his experience, the more I wondered whether the real question is not whether God plays dice, but whether what we call randomness is the boundary of our own being. In Nyaya philosophy of Sanatan Dharma there is a concept called घुनाक्षर ghunakshar nyaya-a 'letter' created by an earthworm movement which we know is as random as human mind. Hence, the 'letter' is not a letter-a perfect example of randomness. Nyaya philosophy is essentially agnostic
Is it that randomness itself is divine! Its undefinable, its all pervasive-it can happen to any one at any point of time at any place, it knows everything but its unknowable, it has no ethics-it doesn’t differentiate between good and bad nor between pious or sinner, it has no purpose. But, so is God!
12th March 1993 1:30 pm was one such moment.
It was a fine day in Mumbai, not cold not warm. Soothing sea breeze blew in Colaba area where the imposing Air India building stood as a show case of the then Mumbai. My dad was waiting in the Air India office at the ground floor waiting for his turn to be called for booking a ticket to Bahrain. I was eagerly looking for his visit to Bahrain. It had taken months for us to persuade him for this day of booking.
His undershirt was torn by glass splinters with small and large holes on the left side in an uneven pattern randomly. He was keeping it for long as a souvenir, as a memento, as a proof!
