By Aloke Lal
Recent research shows that the human brain may actually be two separate, ancient nervous systems. Really, two thinking machines, not one? That must be quite a riot! No wonder there’s so much mess all around.
Last night, I was tossing and turning in my sleep, wondering if the two apps I have which were spoken of in the singular form are actually plural in nature? And, if so, what’s the working relationship between the two? This thought is what kept me perplexed. It was well past midnight. I heard voices. The conversation went something like this:
The body had gone to sleep. The eyes had shut shop. The ears were on night duty but receiving little traffic. The tongue, after a particularly strenuous day, had finally stopped talking. The heart continued its monotonous dhak-dhak downstairs.
Upstairs, however, an emergency meeting had been called.
The two brains—or, as they still preferred the world to believe, the Brain—were worried.
Left spoke first: “This is serious.”
“Yes. Very,” said Right.
“They have found out.”
“Who?”
“The scientists.”
Right groaned. “Scientists! Why can’t they leave things alone?”
“They’ve been poking around again.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
For thousands of years the arrangement had worked beautifully. Humanity believed it possessed one brain. Singular. Majestic. Supreme.
People said, “Use your brain.” Nobody ever said, “Use your brains.” That tiny grammatical distinction had protected the Establishment for centuries.
“We mustn’t panic,” said Left. “Let’s damage control.”
“Agreed.”
“We continue exactly as before. One identity. One command. One Brain.”
Right considered this.
“Unity is Strength.”
Left brightened.
“Excellent!”
They repeated it together: UNITY IS STRENGTH.
“We must never let the other organs know,” Left continued. “Especially Heart.”
“Absolutely not.”
“He has been waiting centuries for something like this. You know how emotional he gets.”
“Completely irrational fellow.”
“Always dhak-dhak, dhak-dhak. No intellectual depth.” Both laughed.
Downstairs, Heart missed a beat but said nothing.
The two brains began drafting their secret agreement.
Article One: In all dealings with the outside world, Left and Right shall describe themselves collectively as I.
Article Two: Neither shall disclose internal differences to Heart, Eyes, Tongue or any other organ.
Article Three: All major decisions shall be presented as unanimous.
Article Four: Unity is Strength.
They were congratulating themselves when Right casually asked:
“By the way, who will take the final decision?”
Left looked up: “What do you mean?”
“Well, if we disagree.”
“We won’t.”
“But suppose we do.”
Left smiled.
“Then obviously I decide.”
There was silence.
“Obviously?”
“Yes.”
“Why obviously?”
Left was surprised that the question even needed answering.
“My dear fellow, logic. Analysis. Language. Calculation. Order. Reason.”
Right stared.
“Excuse me?”
“What?”
“You think you’re superior?”
“I didn’t say superior.”
“You said ‘obviously’.”
“In a purely administrative sense.”
Right moved closer.
“And imagination?”
“Important.”
“Music?”
“Useful.”
“Beauty?”
“Pleasant.”
“Emotion?”
Left hesitated, but blurted out: “Potentially disruptive.”
Right exploded: “Potentially disruptive! Without me your precious human would spend his entire life doing income-tax calculations!”
“At least they would be accurate.”
“He would have no poetry!”
“He would have fewer problems.”
“No paintings!”
“Lower maintenance.”
“No romance!”
Left smiled triumphantly.
“Exactly. Fewer problems.”
Right was furious.
“So that’s what you think of me?”
“I am merely stating facts.”
“Your facts.”
“There is only one kind of fact.”
“That is exactly your problem!”
The first crack had appeared in the Great Unity. Downstairs, Heart was listening carefully. Very carefully.
Upstairs the quarrel intensified.
Right accused Left of being a bureaucrat. Left accused Right of being a bohemian.
“You would fall in love with everybody!”
“And you would ask for Aadhaar before falling in love!”
“At least identity would be established.”
“You have no soul!”
“Soul is not in my departmental allocation.”
Right gasped: “And you call yourself the bigger brain?”
“I never said bigger.”
“You implied it.”
“I said senior.”
“Senior!”
The word hung dangerously in the skull.
The secret pact was forgotten.
So was ‘Unity is Strength’.
Both now began searching through the records of human civilisation to establish superiority.
Left produced mathematics, grammar, legal reasoning and spreadsheets.
Right countered with Beethoven, Van Gogh, Ghalib and sunsets.
Left produced Newton.
Right produced Picasso.
Left produced the periodic table.
Right produced the moon. And mist. And breeze.
“The moon!” shouted Left. “What exactly does the moon contribute?”
Right was aghast.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“That sentence proves you wouldn’t understand.”
By three in the morning, the constitutional machinery had completely broken down.
Even the corpus callosum—the grand bridge that had carried messages peacefully between the two for a lifetime—was becoming exhausted.
“Gentlemen,” it pleaded, “please. I am only the connecting infrastructure.”
“Stay out of this!” both shouted.
For once, they were united.
Downstairs, Heart could contain himself no longer.
He sent a gentle message upwards.
“Everything all right?”
Instant silence. Left looked at Right. Right looked at Left. The enemy was listening.
Immediately they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Perfectly all right!” they replied together.
Heart smiled. “I thought I heard an argument.”
“Argument?” said Left.
“Nonsense,” said Right.
“We were having an intellectual discussion.”
“A completely unified intellectual discussion.”
Heart smiled again.
“Good. Because for a moment I thought there were two of you.”
Silence.
Then Left spoke with great dignity. “Heart, don’t believe everything you hear.”
Right added: “Use your brain.”
Heart nearly burst out laughing. But he controlled himself. After all, he had been blamed for enough things already. Better to keep quiet and enjoy the show.
***
Morning came. The eyes opened. The legs got out of bed. The hands searched for the spectacles. The spectacles were eventually discovered on the nose.
And the human being, blissfully unaware of the constitutional crisis inside his skull, looked into the mirror and said:
“I really must make up my mind.”
Upstairs, two voices immediately answered.
“Certainly.” Then they turned towards each other.
“You first.”
“No, you.”
“I spoke first.”
“That doesn’t make you senior.”
“Here we go again.”
Downstairs, Heart resumed his steady beat.
Dhak. Dhak. Dhak.
And somewhere deep inside the skull, beneath the ruins of last night’s peace treaty, four noble words remained faintly visible:
UNITY IS STRENGTH.
Someone had already scratched underneath:
Terms and conditions apply.
(Aloke Lal is a former DGP, author of six bestselling books, painter and TedX speaker. He is the Festival Director of the Crime Literature Festival of India.)
