[If you happen to be one of the few unfortunate souls, who've not come across Douglas Adams’ literature, read about him on Wikipedia. Or better still, get a hold of his books. A number of references are made below which are not explicitly explained. Apologies.]

In my quest for the ultimate answer, I've approached a number of people - people who claimed to know the answer. Each left me disappointed and I knew that I had to search further. The answer, which I ultimately did find out, was, however, something I'd known since my childhood. It was simple, blatantly simple, worrisomely simple, breathtakingly simple, so simple that Simplicity would itself be embarrassed. The ultimate answer to Life, the Universe and Everything was 42. The ultimate question is, however, not known.

Towels and Hitchhiking

Douglas Noel Adams (DNA!!), born on 11th March, 1952 and died never, passed away on 11th May, 2001. He moved across galaxies and took millions of fans with him. The great advantage of this is that in order to actually visit strange planets and Earth-like planet making factories all you needed was a trusty towel. Never leave home without it.

But I miss you...

Douglas Adams, I miss you. I’ve never met you and never had any contacts with you. Yet, I know you – as a dear friend, as not-so-interested philosopher and the ultimate guide. The guide to a world where imaginations fly, where absurd ideas are mocked with skilfully crafted sharp humour and where nuclear ballistic missiles can instantly turn into Sperm Whales and petunia plants. You were (and I so long to use the word ‘are’ here) the humanised form of the oft-mentioned-in-fairy-tales endearing gentle giant, towering at over six feet. You were the idle child forced to become an adult in a world you constantly found paradoxical and funny, and sometimes both together, and pushed into making a world for yourself – and your fans – where humour and good natured satire would be principal. It is a world where things are absurd, where you cannot possibly prepare for things to come and where the sharp attacks on irrationality are delightfully veiled by satire that must have been polished by your British background.  

Douglas Adams, I miss you. Where again would I get concepts like the Infinite Improbability Drive? For a split second you could pass through all the points in the universe simultaneously; however, the end state would not be determined. Take a serious quantum mechanical idea, apply it to an absurdly inapplicable realm and add a dash of humour and what you’ve got is Adams’ zany prose. Adams, you’ve not only made the Heart of Gold spaceship go through the Infinite Improbability Drive, you’ve also dragged our imaginations and silly realism along. (Ref: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy –HGTTG)

Douglas Adams, I do miss you. You made us look at ourselves, without explicitly saying so, and made us realise our inherent stupidity. Where again will I get that humbling feeling from? The feeling that is so very necessary in a world, where each of us thinks, stupidly, ourselves masters. Who’ll again tell me that dolphins are more intelligent than us? Or that mice actually control us?  (Ref: HGTTG)

Douglas Adams, I miss you so much. It was you who taught me how to fly and see the funny side of that.

There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) suggests, and try it.
The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt.
That is, it's going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard.
Clearly, it is the second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties.

Who can really disagree with him on deadlines?

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. 

Douglas, I miss you. In losing you, the Northern white rhinos of Zaire, the already-extinct Yangtze river dolphins, the delightfully absurd Kakapo of New Zealand, our cousin Aye-Aye of Madagascar have all lost a valiant conservationist fighter – one who could use humor to get across a serious message, one whose accounts of failed conservation attempts would remain with one, but without the pangs of the cloying sentimentalities. Who would again describe a rhino grazing like the way you described:

The animal measured about six feet high at the shoulders, and sloped gradually down towards its hindquarters and its rear legs... When the rhino moved a leg, just slightly, huge muscles moved easily under the heavy skin like Volkswagens parking... The rhino snapped to attention, turned away from us, and hurtled off across the plain like a nimble young tank.

Or maybe, a Kakapo:

It is an extremely fat bird. ... Sadly, however, it seems that not only has the kakapo forgotten how to fly, but it has also forgotten that it has forgotten how to fly. Apparently a seriously worried kakapo will sometimes run up a tree and jump out of it, whereupon it flies like a brick and lands in a graceless heap on the ground.

(Ref: Last Chance to See)

Douglas, I miss you. You were always a ‘radical atheist’, describing yourself as such, so that people would not ask in return whether you're really an atheist or did you really mean ‘agnostic’. Where again can I get a more direct and clearer view than the following (Adams’ recorded speech in Cambridge, 1998: Excerpt):

Religion doesn't seem to work like that; it has certain ideas at the heart of it which we call sacred or holy or whatever. That's an idea we're so familiar with, whether we subscribe to it or not, that it's kind of odd to think what it actually means, because really what it means is 'Here is an idea or a notion that you're not allowed to say anything bad about; you're just not. Why not? — because you're not!'

 In the case of an idea, if we think 'Here is an idea that is protected by holiness or sanctity', what does it mean? Why should it be that it's perfectly legitimate to support the Labour party or the Conservative party, Republicans or Democrats, this model of economics versus that, Macintosh instead of Windows, but to have an opinion about how the Universe began, about who created the Universe, no, that's holy? What does that mean? Why do we ring-fence that for any other reason other than that we've just got used to doing so? There's no other reason at all, it's just one of those things that crept into being and once that loop gets going it's very, very powerful. So, we are used to not challenging religious ideas but it's very interesting how much of a furore Richard creates when he does it! Everybody gets absolutely frantic about it because you're not allowed to say these things.

(The ‘Richard’ mentioned is ‘Richard Dawkins’. Adams and Dawkins were very good friends)

DNA, I miss you. Who would provide me a better answer to the question ‘Why do you like science’ than the one you did? The “impromptu reply should be framed on the wall of every science classroom in the land” (Dawkins) :

The world is a thing of utter inordinate complexity and richness and strangeness that is absolutely awesome. I mean the idea that such complexity can arise not only out of such simplicity, but probably absolutely out of nothing, is the most fabulous extraordinary idea. And once you get some kind of inkling of how that might have happened – it’s just wonderful. And ... the opportunity to spend seventy or eighty years of your life in such a universe is time well spent as far I’m concerned.

Douglas, couldn’t you have been right this one time? Seventy or eighty years, really? If only that were true.
Douglas, I sorely miss you!

A Brief Non-History of Humankind

Once upon a time, a few monkeys came down from the trees. This was the beginning of all the trouble. They did not know it yet, but they were leaving the safety of the branches and descending into the dangers of their stupidity, or – worse – their self-perceived intellect.

In no time, these people had learned to hunt and not only for the fun of it – but also to find food and then use the animal skin for clothing. This concept of clothing would really put deception on the front-line of activities as this naive species grew and evolved (oops, I got ahead of the story – will come back to explain this one term – ‘evolved’). They wanted to call themselves ‘human’ as this seemed more humane than calling themselves ‘monkeys’, though the jury is still out (and dead and buried) as to which would have been more apt.

The trouble started when the individuals of this species divided themselves into two kinds of wise men – wise men and over-wise men. The fundamental difference between them was this: the wise men thought that they didn't know anything about the world and were destined to find out more about it. The over-wise claimed that they already knew all that would be possible to know. Since, the over-wise men had gotten a head start to knowing things; they would go about making hypotheses and then defend them till the death (of others). Out of all these hypotheses, a particularly attractive one involved an individual, not unlike the one than those that came down from the tree, but with one exceptional quality – he could be all-powerful and everywhere simultaneously. These humans – for want of a shorter word – called this imagined individual ‘God’. This concept became very popular and would remain so even until the much later revolution of the invention of computer games, where you could use cheats and play in the ‘God’ mode.

Returning to the story, we find that a few wise men wanted people to see the light. Now, this wasn't such a good idea, as then people had to take off their blinds – something that they did not like to do very often. Among the many consequences of this was that the wise men often found themselves in tight spots. This involved a peculiar situation in which the said wise man could not move their hands or legs – the reason often being that they were bound by rope or metal wire generally to a wooden pole. Also, many of these wise men, thereafter, reported an intense burning sensation. They had crossed the over-wise people. Ultimately, it took the Earth to intervene. It had to take all these humans – wise and over-wise – and the monkeys – all foolish – round the sun once every year. This convinced a few people and, much kicking and screaming though there was, eventually humans came round to the idea.

Of course, one failure wasn't enough to let the skepticism amongst over-wise people rest. The strong will to know that which they already knew grew and led to absolute beliefs – which paradoxically, did not strike anyone as paradoxical at the time. 

At around this time, wise men had already discovered that not only did the Earth go round the sun, apples also fell. And apples fell, miraculously all the while going round the sun, tugged forcefully by the Earth against their will. Apparently, this was an important discovery and people centuries later would still marvel at this and sigh in appreciation. Whether the apples were unhappy with the entire arrangement is not quite known – psychology was a nascent science back then and it was curiously found that humans and apples did not quite respond the same psychologically.

Now, if it seems that the over-wise were getting thumped by the wise – well, maybe it is because this was the case. The over-wise however had an ace up their sleeves. They had noticed that the number of martyrs was growing on the wise side and it was their own fault. They would now invoke a sacrifice that they had kept safely wrapped up for a long time. They said that a long time ago, a man – who, critically, did not descend from the arboreal foliage – had been put up on a wooden cross and was tortured till he died. The masterstroke was the following: Remember the God character (not the computer game mode – we are not there yet!)? He claimed that this guy being tortured and who did not descend from a monkey was actually his son. Now, it seemed, finally, the game was on! This God guy now demanded some luxuries because he had already given up his son, who was later reported to be in heaven beside his dad. So, out of sympathy, humans – wise and over-wise and the not-so-wise – all pitched in and said that they would attribute the creation of all creatures to be the job of God.

All humans accepted that – well, all but one! This one human, curiously, had nothing better to do than sail half way across the world in a boat named, astonishingly, after a breed of dog, and enjoyed collecting, in a rising degree of surprise, beetles, finches and tortoise shells. And he was good at it – he could accurately identify them and, not least by any standards, tag them. People thought he was quite clever – and some even attributed his intelligence to the beard, which he would later acquire (or maybe not!). Whatever it be, people must have deemed him intelligent, because, when he said that creatures were not always what they appear to be now, some people did listen. Yes, Charles, if you’re in the house, I’m talking about you! Do me a favour and take a bow!

This Charles guy, who sailed half the world, in a ship named after a pooch, had a theory. He liked to call it evolution, which we today call Evolution (complete with a capital ‘E’). It was an overly convenient theory, much more convenient than the God-tiring creation hypothesis. It had the extra convenience of being correct.

While this game was being played out, a few people were coaxed by some other few people to join in and do something which they would later name ‘war’. The concept was simple. You kill people from the opposing ‘side’ and, to return the favor, they try to kill you. Of course, things get interesting once you realize that you don't want to get killed and neither does the opposite side. Adding to the spicy mix is the fact that before you begin this game, you need to figure out your side. This problem was quickly overcome, when you took into account your geographical location or the colour of your skin or the shape of the onions you ate or which version of the God story you believed. Overtime, the players changed the rules for themselves and introduced more sophisticated instruments of war. The original instruments were easy to understand and even an earthworm could have told you that if you have a thin and firm piece of iron with a pointy tip, it’d be a nice instrument to use for the purpose. Eventually, the concept of the thin body vanished, but that of the pointy tip remained in what was invented later, called the ‘bullet’. Poets and writers have eulogized and sermonized using their own version of the pointy tip called a ‘pen’. It has been a raging debate as to which of the versions of the pointy tip is stronger and the stupidity of the humans has been the inability to decide which to use on a more regular basis. 

Pointy tips notwithstanding, a few wise people realized after every war that it is, in fact, a bad idea, and so did the rest of the people only to duly forget it before the next one. And this was required because after every war some more lessons would be learnt – where would they come from if not from war?

But, for once, think about it. You share a planet – a speck amongst billions of lifeless others – for millions of years, and then you decide to kill off these very fellow travelers round the sun. That's just not nice, not nice at all.

Bearing this in mind, a few people disappeared off into the mountains so that they could escape from all the stupidity of these tree-descended monkeys. The rest stayed back, the author of this pointless non-history about a pointless history being one of them.

Disclaimer: This piece is not meant to be a treatise in history and don’t take it to be so. Just because the author has, doesn't mean that you will try to be hilarious with history. The author is a professional in this field and understands the risks involved.