mercurialmoods

Obituary: to a man remembered in death more than in life

2011-02-25T14:07:00.000-06:00

Dear Uncle Pai,
I am one among the myriad (no more) children indebted to you for giving me the most enriching gift I have yet received-- the love of the printed word. But I am ashamed to confess that I had almost forgotten your existence. What greater tribute can I perhaps give you as an artiste, for you verily were one, than to realize today that your creations were so powerful that they subsumed you, their very creator, and relegated you to the shadows.

You were also a primary reason for a bond that I developed with my father when he inculcated in myself his love for the printed word. To a seven year old kid a comic book is a puzzling thing; he doesn't know whether to read zig-zag horizontally or vertically, or whether a character is speaking or thinking. And yet once these obstacles are overcome, for a mind at that age like a sponge, what a world has just been opened to him; a world where animals talk and conspire, Suppandi's buffoonery is a way of life, Tantri's plans to usurp Raja Hooja's throne are doomed to eternity, and there lies forever by the side of Shikari Shambu the happenstance of serendipity.

I owe to your Tinkle and Amar Chitra Katha the satisfied feeling I got as a kid at night when I lay in my bed before sleeping, reflecting on what plans might work for Tantri, or what else could go wrong. And the illustrations ! No dictionary was ever required for the expressions on the characters faces were so very...expressive. In fact, am surprised we children who read those books have grown up unbewildered that people in real life dont really say tee hee hee or tsk tsk or sigh or sob-sob, or boo-hoo. And the stories of Indian epics and mythology! How regal the kings and gods and how terrifying the demons !

I even wrote to you sending questions for the Tinkle Tells You Why column, hatching plans of buying a "bulls-eye gun from Leo toys" with the fifty rupees you would send me for my five questions and irritated my father no end by expecting a reply from you each day when he came home from work. You did reply after a month sending me Tinkle stickers as consolation for the fact that you couldn't feature my questions. Encouraged, I sent further questions to you and got more stickers. I look back with affection at such innocent joys and sorrows that I had !

I grew up and started reading books but am forever alert, to delve into that wonderful world that you created for me as a child whenever I can. I feel sorry for children of today who dont know the pleasure of quietly reading by themselves or discovering a new word to be flaunted later before elders, or who dont feel happy enough looking at brand new books in a book fair or shop. I think before spending for a new pillow but readily buy a device to help me read in bed at night.

And I remembered it all today, when I finally thought of you. Your life has been remarkable Uncle Pai, for an entire generation remembers you with affection.

And I feel bitter at the irony that is life as the memories ram into my heart and I realize that it has been decided for you, like it had been for another, that you have had enough of the world on the twenty fourth day of February.

Reassurance

2010-08-15T02:58:00.002-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I have always desired to excel in language, especially English. It doesn't dishearten me to be told that my equation is wrong as much as it does when it is alleged that my grammar or usage is incorrect.

In school, I strove to prove myself to be a class apart from the others in this regard. Few compliments have been as satisfying as being told by my English teacher in class-IX that "my writing has a flow which is quite rare for my age". I painstakingly dotted the i's and crossed the t's with regard to grammar, and skillfully performed the drill of lexical gymnastics -- changing clauses and voices for cunningly contrived sentences, keeping an eagle eye on agreement of the verb with the subject, etc.

However, I started noticing a change in my writing during my undergraduate years. While my vocabulary waxed, my writing grew languid as the austere practices of high school education started to wane. I started relying predominantly on my "ear for the language". I would judge the correctness of a sentence on the basis of how it "sounded".
I began enjoying my writing, playing with words and admiring my own handiwork. I got better with time, and the end of the rope of high school grammar that tethered me had frayed. With characteristic modesty (!?!), I recognized that I have the gift of self-expression and articulation. There is also a general opinion of my friends that I do have a way with words.
Despite all that however, there was a thought which I kept pushing to the back of my mind-- that I don't really remember the rules of grammar anymore, I was completely reliant on my "ear" when it comes to usage, and that I undoubtedly violate some sacrosanct rules in my endeavour to write aesthetically. I spoke about this to my friends and they also agreed that it is a normal occurrence; that writing and speaking depend primarily on "ear".

The reason for my unease at this thought stems from the fact that I appreciate technique and the organized way of doing things. I believe that mastery of technique, by and large, gives a very good chance to succeed in any field. It is no coincidence that I liked Rahul Dravid the moment I saw the short ball drop dead at his feet under that solid back-foot defence.

But I digress. Anyway, I started my graduate school and there was a lot of talk of "scientific writing" which by all accounts seemed to be some stilted and emasculated form of writing where one must use simple sentences and avoid at all costs, even reasonable complications in sentence construct. I resolved not to take that course (no pun intended), fearful that I might have to change the way I write. I believed that scientific writing is not divorced from aesthetic usage of the language, that there is room to convey a scientific idea precisely while still using the language delightfully.
Luckily, I have seen enough books and papers (C.Truesdell, P.R.Halmos, A.B. Pippard, etc.) that were reassuring and I am now content in my belief.

I crave the indulgence of the reader as I embark on another digression. My dislike for excessive use of short simple sentences can be explained by comparing the act with eating delicious food. Just as one must take sufficient amounts in each mouthful so as to get the best taste of good food, so too with sentences.

My narrative until now can serve as a most instructive example of circumlocution for I come to the subject of this piece only now.
Strunk and White's The Elements of Style is a book that is highly rated by graduate students and professors alike. It is a book that is the staple fare of these courses on " scientific writing". Hence I have studiously avoided reading the book. What little I saw of its table of contents also seemed foreboding, appearing as it did, to be a collection of dos and donts designed to discourage me !
I looked at it again today and these are some of the items that caught my eye:
Use the active voice.
Hell ! And I use the passive voice often . I didn't like the way it started.
Put statements in positive form.
How then, do I manage my funny, long winded, complicated and negatively worded understatements
Omit needless words.
Fair enough
Do not overstate.
Ha! Exaggeration is the cornerstone of humour. Read P.G.Wodehouse if you don't agree.
Avoid the use of qualifiers.
Avoid Fancy words.
This was the biggest blow. I was so taken by the word Götterdämmerung, with which I titled my last post over a year ago. "Celerity" is another word I have been in love with ever since I studied it in a textbook as "Laplace and Newton's formulas to measure the celerity of sound". Maybe the alliteration had something to do with it. Anyway, plain old speed then, no celerity. One cant then speak of "mathematical legerdemain", or "ratiocinate an assumption". No delightful sentences like O. Henry in Hostages to Momus-- "...and if on any morning we get a telegram from the Secretary of State asking about the health of the scheme, I propose to acquire the most propinquitous and celeritous mule in this section and gallop diplomatically over into the neighboring and peaceful nation of Alabama."
Do not inject opinion.
That will be hard.
Use figures of speech sparingly.
I can hardly spare them.
Thoroughly irritated, I started reading from the page which said "avoid fancy words".
I finally read something that comforted me when it said:
In this, as in many matters pertaining to style, one's ear must be one's guide...
There is nothing wrong, really, with any word-- all are good, but some are better than the others. A matter of ear, a matter of reading the books that sharpen the ear.
Confirmation, finally ! Exactly what I wanted.
Then there followed some sentences and phrases which made me realise how baseless my opinion had been with regard to this book.

On the pitfalls of unclear writing:

Muddiness is not merely a disturber of prose, it is also a destroyer of life, of hope: death on the highway caused by a badly worded road sign, heartbreak among lovers caused by a misplaced phrase in a well-intentioned letter, anguish of a traveler expecting to be met at a railroad station and not being met because of a slipshod telegram.

On similes :
The simile is a common device and a useful one, but similes coming in rapid fire, one right on top of another, are more distracting than illuminating. Readers need time to catch their breath; they can't be expected to compare everything with something else, and no relief in sight.

On offbeat terms:
...the trouble with adopting coinages too quickly is that they will bedevil one by insinuating themselves where they do not belong.

Even the world of criticism has a modest pouch of private words (luminous, taut), whose only virtue is that they are exceptionally nimble and can escape from the garden of meaning over the wall.

Finally, his summary:

The language is perpetually in flux: it is a living stream, shifting, changing, receiving new strength from a thousand tributaries, losing old forms in the backwaters of time. To suggest that a young writer not swim in the main stream of this turbulence would be foolish indeed, and such is not the intent of these cautionary remarks. The intent is to suggest that in choosing between the formal and the informal, the regular and the offbeat, the general and the special, the orthodox and the heretical, the beginner err on the side of conservatism, on the side of established usage. No idiom is taboo, no accent forbidden; there is simply a better chance of doing well if the writer holds a steady course, enters the stream of English quietly, and does not thrash about.

But best of all, his parting words to the writer:
It is now necessary to warn you that your concern for the reader must be pure: you must sympathize with the reader's plight (most readers are in trouble about half the time) but never seek to know the reader's wants. Your whole duty as a writer is to please and satisfy yourself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one. Start sniffing the air, or glancing at the Trend Machine, and you are as good as dead, although you may make a nice living.

For all his exhortations to the contrary, one can see the mastery of words, the well chosen metaphors, the hint of exaggeration ...
I succumbed to him when I read the bit about satisfying oneself. It has been the sole reason for my blog.

With the fervor of a born-again believer, I started with the preface and uncovered yet another gem:
"Omit needless words!" cries the author on page 23, and into that imperative Will Strunk really put his heart and soul. In the days when I was sitting in his class, he omitted so many needless words, and omitted them so forcibly and with such eagerness and obvious relish, that he often seemed in the position of having shortchanged himself — a man left with nothing more to say yet with time to fill, a radio prophet who had out-distanced the clock.

It is a joy to read such writing. My opinion of "scientific writing", as understood by many of my peers and some professors, has not changed. But I now concur that this book must be read by everyone who ever needs to write a sentence in English.

Götterdämmerung

2009-07-05T14:23:00.000-05:00

Götterdämmerung--Twilight of the Gods, was the phrase that kept coming to my mind as I watched the epic final between Federer and Roddick. Admittedly, I am taking liberties with the word and using it in a sense contradictory to the usual usage, but the literal translation really was fitting here.

After all we had all the legends of tennis- Sampras, Borg, Laver, Becker, Mcenroe, here at twilight to witness the epochal event- the final acceptance, if any more confirmation were still required, of Roger Federer as one of the all time greats, and arguably, the greatest ever.

I really feel sorry for Roddick though. He played a great match, and almost won it. These epic finals are cruel in the end, for only one can be called a winner. But these are worthy sportsmen ; generous in victory, gracious in defeat.

If asked to summarise the match today however, most verbs seem unfair to me. I cannot bring myself to say Roddick lost , or that Federer won. Federer edged past Roddick does not fit well either. Federer prevails at last is close but I still wouldnt be satisfied. Perhaps my best attempt would be to to say Federer outlasts Roddick , atleast it conveys the idea of a marathon where the competitors have risen above the outcome, and victory and defeat are merely names for the inexorable end.

It has been a privelege to witness the exploits of Federer, since the day he defeated Sampras in the 2001 quarter finals. It helped that his era dawned when I had risen above personal favouritism and could appreciate the unbridled genius and mastery of the man, something I never could do with Sampras, or Agassi or Becker as long as they were playing, for I was rooting fervently for Goran Ivanisevic.

How I wish I could have a day like this. It must be a wonderful life, however short, if on a glorious summer evening, the Gods come down to witness your acheivement and welcome you into their pantheon.

Götterdämmerung indeed !!

Sophistry and Syllogism

2009-04-25T16:34:00.000-05:00

It has been my observation for a long time now, that people do not really listen to what you are saying-something that I take great pains to do, and what is worse, they respond at times with illogical answers.

Many do not really understand the idea of "hypothesis", I would think. I have come across such incidents many times, but to illustrate, I will, as I usually do, take examples from mathematics.
Imagine I asked you: " If 1+1 =11, what is 2+2 ?"
If you are one of those who would say: "But that's not possible, 1+1 =2 !!",
then you are one of those this post is meant for.

First let me explain why I think it is illogical to give the answer stated above.

The key of course , is the word "If ". When put sarcastically, the question means- Please be condescending enough to grant me the status of an intellectual midget, and assuming the truth of the statement that 1+1 =11, try and think the way an idiot like me would to answer what would 2+2 be.

So to me, the answers could be 22, or 222. If you say I do not know, that is quite acceptable too.
It's the answer "But it is not 11 !" that riles me.

For it is clear that they do not understand what the word "If" means in that sentence.
When someone begins a statement with "If ", you are only allowed to think with that as the truth, and not question the veracity of the statement itself.

It is true that at times, the person asking the question may be a total numbskull who is not aware of the truth, but if he starts a question with "If ", please be gracious enough to humour him by thinking likewise.

I have now found a way to make myself clear to these people who do not listen to what you are saying. The solution lies in voice modulation :)
" IFFF , .... If 1+1 =2, THEN what is 2+2 ? " (here bold letters denote full throated yell )

It is a waste of words in the language , if people cannot sense conditional statements even when you make one and a sad situation indeed.

Justice is blind....and so are its keepers !

2008-10-06T23:20:00.000-05:00

Academic integrity is highly valued in this country and rightly so. There are stiff deterrents to ward off probable offenders. However, an incident occurred today which reflects the title of this post and has left me feeling dissatisfied.

In class today a student was apparently found guilty of copying the solution to a homework problem verbatim from the book. Without disputing the story, I agree that it was a foolish, dishonest and dangerous thing to do and having done so he definitely deserves punishment.
The University that I am in has a very strict code called the _____ code of honour and violating it brings heavy punishment. But I was shocked at the magnitude of it-F grade in the course and dismissal from the university. I write this hoping the latter does not happen.
Let me just put that in perspective. A foolish student makes a mistake like this once. Not in an examination but in one problem of a homework that will not even amount to a tenth of the total weightage. And for that the self righteous men in authority decide to enforce the law to the letter. They decide to end his career by terminating his admission at the university. Is that fair?
I know law is blind-its precisely for that reason I do not have much respect for it; but surely the men enforcing it need not be blind. I thought the purpose of the law is to punish, not destroy. And in this case they could have put the fear of God into the student by doing far less, and yet setting an example, teaching him a lesson, without flogging a dead horse. Even a murderer gets a chance to live, quite often. This is just a student. Surely he deserves another chance.
But perhaps this is a symptom of a greater evil here-the fiendish desire to adhere to the letter of the law without using one's mind to decide the right course of action-a contrast with India where there is a pathological desire to break the law.

I remember the campus newspaper reporting on the ridiculous rates of fines that apply to cyclists who break the traffic rules. In accordance with the spirit of the law that treats all offenders equally, one on a bike worth a double digit amount who would be hard pressed to cause greivous bodily harm even if he so desired and another in a car worth a princely sum and weighing a hundred times more pay the same penalty for violating road rules.
Surely, such a punishment serves no purpose .

Fire is a good teacher, it is said, because a small child learns the lesson after getting burnt and knows not to touch the fire. How would it be if he were to touch it and be punished by being charred to death ?

Celerity- the congenital love of man

2008-09-28T01:10:00.000-05:00

I think it is intrinsic to human nature to love speed. I have a predilection for the word "celerity", but I also know I will not win any popularity votes by using that word, hence I will not use it again here :). Right from childhood, most of us have this fascination for speed. Fast trains, fast cars and later on, maybe fast girls !! ;) I was no different (except maybe in the last item:). I have driven my father crazy by making him repeat, ad nauseum, the difference between Diesel and Electric Engines, Broad and Metre gauge trains, the Rajdhani and other Superfast trains, among others.
This liking for speed also manifests itself in sports. In cricket, the sight of a fast bowler making a batsman hop, shattering his stumps is always stirring. As a kid everyone wants to bowl fast. Its only the ones who are unable to do that try to bowl spin.
This same sentiment is carried over to tennis too. I loved watching Wimbledon. Big serves, quick rallies and a skidding surface while I hated the slow red clay of Roland Garros.

But there were certain incidents that niggled. I found it was very difficult to cycle slowly, for instance. But of course I didn't let that bother me much. It was much later , when I think I matured, that I seriously thought about this human fascination with speed. And I have been thinking of it ever since. Every case I think about leads me to the same conclusion-that speed is always the easier thing to deal with. It is when you slow things down that it becomes a more holistic challenge. This is my exposition of this matter with some examples that influenced me.

I will start with Cricket-my passion. As mentioned before it is impossible to not be bowled over (pun intended :) when you see Waqar Younis or Wasim Akram come up with those deliveries that seem to have a mind of their own and swerve like heat seeking missiles to find their target. Or see a still photo of a batsman airborne, swaying away, torso almost horizontal and smelling the leather inches from his nose. Or in another case, bat horizontal, making contact in front of his face with eyes closed. One must get roused by such images. For speed is something that is earthy. It thrives on the blood rushing to the head. That is the defining character of each of those images. Now think of spin in cricket. It is diametrically opposite. It is about trickery and deception, patience and skill, concentration and a war of attrition. When I see a spinner throw the ball up in the air, and I see it insidiously curving away in the air and later spit off the pitch, the batsman has to have so many skills. Stretch out, have soft hands,wait for the ball, resist the innate urge to swing wildly.... Anyone who has played street cricket will know this. It is so much more a mental contest, and one of the delights is to see a batsman stranded far down the pitch, look back to see the bails off and wonder how he had come so far down. This involves a far more subtle art-both playing and bowling spin and hence we have a dearth of both as compared to fast bowlers. Fast bowling is just about that moment and everything happens so fast there is not time enough for the mental processes to come into play. Thus fast bowling is mostly muscle and brawn while spin is wiles and temptation. During the test match at Adelaide there was a fascinating interview with Terry Jenner, formerly Warne's coach. His perspicuous observations on spin bowling were most instructive and he quoted Bishan Singh Bedi's words as a message for all spinners, that "Spin is in the air and break is off the pitch". Hence you have to go beyond the obvious to see and appreciate the nuances of spin bowling.

If we go to the green grass of Wimbledon, the surface is quick. Balls roll and die quickly. Rallies are short. And everyone loves it. Travel to the red clay of Roland Garros and its different. The surface (pun definitely intended ) is a great leveller :) The rallies are long, the ball bounces and sits up and some all time great players never manage a win there. The clay makes you stop and think. It gives you time to make a choice-where do you want to hit it, what shot do you play. It is not about impulse but contemplation. It has parallels with life-points don't come easy and one has to be tenacious, one cannot sit back and relax thinking a point is won. I feel it involves more skills than winning at Wimbledon and I have been able to enjoy the battles at Roland Garros all the more after I realised this.

Slow cycling is another example. When you go slow, your very balance is questioned. But it is quite easy to go fast. Even aeroplanes stall at low speeds, while high speeds are not a problem. My friend Harsha who learns Classical music also says that singing slowly and holding a note is what makes a good vocalist for that is when you are prone to error. Singing at higher pace is much easier.

Perhaps, to give a nerdy counterexample I will illustrate the case of the speed of sound as taught in high school . Newton thought the compression/rarefaction of air was a "slow" process and hence isothermal and calculated a value of sonic velocity which was found to be far below what was known. Later Laplace corrected it by assuming it is a "rapid" adiabatic process and the corresponding sonic velocity was accurate. Thus we have to be thankful that the process is rapid else sound would have travelled slower and many of our technological applications would not work the same. Its only in such matters that high speed involves intricacies.

I have perhaps given enough examples. Even as you read, you might have thought of some more. My idea is that speed or change is the order of nature. Time and thought, among all things flow quickest. Slowing things down is an attempt to resist change, in a sense. Hence such tasks are inherently more subtle. There is another more logical reason though. As pointed out before, when things are slower and you have to make a choice, it involves more than just your reflexes, it is about conscious thought. Speed is perhaps like war-once the first shot is fired, and the adrenaline flows, anyone can be brave. But the nerve wracking wait for an ambush is where the real test lies. Hence I love the beauty inherent in a slow motion video.

My point after all this is only that even as we continue to be enthralled by speed let us recognize that it is a natural urge, while next time you see Muralidharan or Warne bowl, and/or somebody play them well, take a moment to reflect that there is much more to it than meets the eye.

The REMINISCENCES

2008-09-26T12:16:00.000-05:00

As I promised, this is the introduction to the REM that was written in 2006.Its something thats special for me, and that is the reason am putting it up. It was titled, quite appropriately, as Footprints on the sands of time.

Foot prints on the sands of time…….

On the third day of September in 2002, when four hundred and sixty odd Destiny’s children were brought together by fate from different parts of the country, to change lives, change their life, and have the time of their lives, the expanse of the entire nation was injected into this eight hundred acre Wonderland.

We entered with apprehension of the years ahead but leave with comprehension of what these years mean to us, for however high we rise in life, we will always remember that these were our roots, this was where our outlook was moulded.

It’s been an epic journey, one that seems to have gone past in the blink of an eye. Like diamonds cutting diamonds were we, polishing each other and getting ready to face the world, as stereotypes were banished, and true friendships were forged- Friendships that have endured and transcended those early days of ragging, the late night GEC-NIT fiascos, the euphemistic Club Inductions, silly TV room fights, the bucket party brawls, and the halcyon days of Agate life, even as tragedy has befallen some of our mates on the way.

The chariot of time moved on. We started growing out of our shadows. The innocent became worldly wise, the brash and the outspoken mellowed with tinges of prudence, the stoical became sentimental and the proverbial ugly ducklings found their wings. As a wise man once said “Young men think themselves immortal”, so did we, thinking this would never end.

Trail blazers all the way, we stood at the forefront of some monumental events-The first Pragyan, the last of the departmental symposiums, and the first and maybe the last NIT Fest.
Finally at the end if it all we look back at these years well spent and awaken to the inevitable reality. A familiar lump forms in the throat, and you will time to pass slower But like a ball of wool, it seems to run quicker at the end; you clutch wildly but time rolls on, inexorably. Apprehension of the future returns and you say to yourself- “If only……”
When again will we feel so joyful at other’s joy, or so gloomy at another’s heartbreak? Perhaps never again.

Life might suck us into its whirlpool of hypocrisy and cunningness. But years hence when we meet again, with greying hair and furrowed face, tired of plodding on through life, the sight of a buddy from these golden days will surely make us tear apart our veneer of propriety and for sometime at least go back in time and relive these REMINISCENCES.
The Eagles put it best when they said: “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave………”

For you have left behind your foot prints in the sands of time…..
Remember this when the Tower of Time recedes in the rear view mirror and you see yourself driven away into the sunset. Do not weep that its over, instead smile that it happened.

The writing of the REM.

2008-09-26T00:39:00.000-05:00

Continuing on with my theme of sloth and recycled creativity, today I will post, to increase my post count, what I consider will stand as my best writing ever. But only a fellow NITTian will perhaps understand and concur with what I say.
Every year at the end of eighth semester, we outgoing students bring out something like a memoir of the graduating class, titled appropriately, REMINISCENCES. It is one bundle of nostalgia and joy rolled into one, as it gives an irreverent, tongue-in-cheek, account of each individual’s life at NITT with special emphasis on his accomplishments, or lack thereof, written by his or her inner circle of friends. One left handed compliment, delivered in a typically sarcastic manner here, we consider to be worth volumes of paeans sung in our honour.
And I had the honour of writing the introductory page to the REMINISCENCES titled “Footprints on the sands of time…” It was something I always dreamt about since the first time I had seen the REM., and I was elated when it finally came true-that I would get to speak on behalf of my entire batch of five hundred, for to be honest, there were people more talented than myself, but I probably wanted it more than others. As one of my favourite maxims goes- The race isn’t to the swift, nor battle to the strong, but victory goes to the one who wants it the most.
I remember that hot summer afternoon in March clearly. I was scribbling away lying on my bed, looking out through my window at what we fondly called the RCG (Ruby Cricket Ground :), with the rumbling of the “train fan” on the ceiling for company. Just then Vicky popped in, saw what I was doing, and commented that I have a long afternoon’s work ahead of me.
I normally take a long time to write, lovingly lingering over each word, playing with it, and admiring it with shameless narcissism :). But that day I finished within an hour. Once I started, I wrote with pure emotion, the words simply flowing, with none of my customary puns and word play. Infact I was almost in tears when I finished. That was one of the rare times that I wrote from the heart, with the head playing second fiddle.
When the REM. was published, people came and told me that I had translated into print their very feelings and made them nostalgic already. Among them were some really gifted people who wrote better than I did, and I consider that one of the best moments of my life so far.
So that was my best salute to NITT, NITTians, and the NITTian way of life.
Enough said in this post, so I will post my write up for the REM. in my next post.

Badam Milk with Sundar

2008-07-28T15:37:00.000-05:00

For all those who have been miffed that I havent posted anything for sometime, here is the next one:
http://coffeewithsundar.com/coffee-with-shriram-srinivasan-about-life-at-texas-a-and-m-university/
Its a form of cheating I know, but at the end of the day, they all count!!:D

Shaping destiny

2008-04-09T12:36:00.000-05:00

If you can risk all your winnings on one turn of pitch and toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings, and not breathe a word of your loss

-----Rudyard Kipling

Today I met a remarkable person who exemplifies these lines.His name is Dr Kool. Actually that isnt his name,he installs and services air conditioning equipment,and thats his (and his company's) trade name.
Dr Kool is an old man who still wears clothes from another age-trousers with straps that go over his shoulder :-) He is a remarkably efficient and reliable worker too.
I had heard that he actually is a Dr, and was once a faculty at A&M.Naturally, I had to ask :)

What Dr Kool told me was amazing.Apparently he did teach statics, material sciences and engineering graphics at A&M, at the same time working on his PhD.He had almost completed his dissertation too when he had an epiphany.He realised that this wasnt what he wanted to do,so he quit and dropped the idea of becoming a Dr, and instead became Dr Kool, and a very successful one at that.An amazing story isnt it?

Our first thought when we hear about such people is always-"Oh..he is so reckless..I would have got my PhD first before doing that!!" Indeed that was my thought too. But if you really,and I mean really, know what you want to do,then success is often a foregone conclusion and the thought of failure never really enters your head,till you probably look back and think about it and say to yourself-" How insane I was, what if things had not turned out right?"
As one of my favourite books-Coelho's "Veronika decides to die" taught me-a little insanity is absolutely essential to life.

It also reminds me of another person I admire hugely-Anu Hasan.A pity she is much older and married too :) I was watching an interview of hers on youtube and at the end of it she says something that I shall never forget-that every moment of life,she is willing to give up what she is to try and become what she can be!

I envy such people,for they are the ones who can make a difference in this world and blaze a trail.It makes me wonder, if I am ever confronted by such a moment, would I have the courage,that insanity, to give it all up for something better?
I sure hope I do.Even as the years roll by and the mind matures, I still want to retain that bit of lunacy (that I have yet:),that adolescent recklessness ,that lets you do things you can look back on later and marvel at how you dared to do them.
After all, I now believe its the attitude that matters in the end, and not an over rated quality like intelligence or ability.

Naming and renaming

2008-03-09T00:50:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, while chatting with a friend of mine, we were talking about one of the modern gimmicks of regional politics-that of renaming places. Thinking about it at leisure, I realised that it is an issue that is far more complicated than I initially thought.
Some of my views are biased by my perspective, of course, but it’s my blog after all, so I get to air them. Nevertheless, am sure you will find that my opinions do merit some thought.
I have so much to say that I am at a loss for words:)and finding it difficult to organize my thoughts.

Perhaps I can begin by first telling you what, in my opinion, should never ever be advanced as a defence for renaming anything important. My room mate Harsha is from Bangalore or Bengaluru (ugh!).When the change was made, we were arguing about it and I said “Bangalore” sounds so much better. He countered by saying that its just because I am used to “Bangalore” and that with time I would get used to “Bengaluru” as well. To me that is an asinine argument, for over time we get used to anything anyway-one of the greatest blessings and tragedies of the human race. If you ever heard the nicknames that are bestowed on people in engineering college hostels ( I unfortunately can’t cite examples because most are unprintable:) you would know what I mean. You don’t have a choice-you just accept whatever people call you, and by the end even abuses appear to be dulcet sounding. So suppose, I decide to rename Bangalore as say “Son of a bitch” or better still “Bang-Galore” or “ Bang- Lore” ( Sorry, but I just had to do this:), am sure people a hundred years from now will be used to it. That is no reason for renaming the city. But I didn’t tell Harsha this and hurt his sentiments:)

That also brings me to the dichotomy that is central to the issue-that between regionalism and history. Calcutta, Madras, Bombay and Calicut are Anglicised versions of their regional names, is a common refrain. But this argument too is specious in my view. For, how do you decide what is native to the region? How do you know that “Kolkata” is untainted by any foreign influence? Maybe it was called something else earlier just like Bengal was called Gauda in the past. I imagine some tribal chieftain named Kalikata from former Burma might have spent the night at a village here and seduced the village belle in a barn and gone on, naming the village after him. Not hard to imagine, is it? (The idea, not the nocturnal action, you perverts!! :)

Thus my point is that history is written all the while, and names keep changing .So you cannot retrace its evolution all the way. Besides, even if the names are Anglicised, so what? Are we trying to deny our past? As it is, everything about Calcutta, its drainage, the Howrah Bridge, the trams are contributions of the British rule anyway. When written in English, Calcutta, Madras and Bombay seem perfectly acceptable to me. It was always spelt Kolkata in Bengali anyway.
The economics of a name change I shall not go into, for that is obvious to all.

A name is about association. Some names immediately invoke a picture in your mind. In Assam an Englishman ordered “Dig boy, dig”. And so he did and struck gold or black gold rather. That place is named Digboi, site of India’s first oil refinery. Now think for a moment. Wouldn’t this wonderful association be lost if say, the town were to be renamed Gopinathnagar or something like that after Assam’s first chief minister?

Sometimes a name has an appeal by its very quirky nature. Dumdum airport in Calcutta is an example. While Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose airport is so impersonal, Dumdum brings back images of my first flight. I am from Calcutta and love the city, and it must be obvious to you by now, that I hate Kolkata. To me, another wonderful aspect of the city that has been lost is the names of streets. Calcutta had a road named after practically every Viceroy of India. Dalhousie Square, Canning Street, Elgin Road, Bentick Street, Ripon street, Minto park, Curzon park and so on. Every time I pass by them, the events of their reign cross my mind, at least whatever I can remember of class 9 and 10 history :)While I understand renaming the main thoroughfares after Indian freedom fighters, maybe the side streets could have been left alone, for people still refer to them by their old names anyway. Calcutta’s only boulevard, Southern Avenue goes right beside the Lake, and is also called Meghnad Saha Sarani.The name makes me wince and cabbies will stare blankly at you too. Same goes for Gariahat as Leelavati Sarani.

I must add that some names just sound better, my personal idiosyncrasy, if you like. So I
do think Udhagamandalam sounds better than Ootacamund (Ooty for you) though Calicut I prefer to Kozhikode.About Kanyakumari am confused. Though Kanyakumari sounds better to me (maybe because of allusions to kanya and kumari :) Cape Camorin is more informative as the southern most point of the Indian mainland, like the Cape of Good Hope.

It’s just the sheer lyrical beauty or musicality of some names I suppose. So if I had my way, I would prefer aerodrome to airport. In nursery that’s what I was taught and the only aeroplanes I knew then were toys. And I hate American airplanes-it’s always aeroplanes for me. Thank God they still call it aerodynamics, or am sure many students of air dynamics would have changed their majors:) In Rudraprayag at the confluence of Alaknanda and Mandakini, I was bowled over by Alaknanda, not so by Mandakini.

Do I sound like a petulant child when I say this? My blog is the only place where I can say such things, some of which I have held onto since childhood.
That’s all I have to say about this. I hope you found this post entertaining. But I will leave you with a final thought-what if Delhi was renamed Indraprastha? :)

Finally, my dear readers, am sure you must have such quirky preferences too-some names that you like, some that you hate-anything irrational or illogical:) If so please share them with me, I am keen to hear it.

Androids

2008-03-01T08:58:00.000-06:00

Since I am desperately in search of something to constructively engage my attention,I thought of resurrecting this blog.A pity that things in life cannot be undone as easily as this blog can be brought to life again.While cleaning up my desktop,I came across this travesty of a short story,written, so it says, on 25 th July 2006,around the time that I started blogging.I thought of it then as a juvenile attempt and didnt post it.But ironically,as time passes,opinions change, and so has mine.I have realised that you can make a career out of stating the obvious,the only pertinent question being obvious to whom.There are different levels of obviousness.The lowest level among these in my opinion,is populated by the ranks of management and HR "consultants". And in this circumlocution do not forget that I was actually lazy enough to write nothing new and pass this off as new instead.On with the story! I would be keen to see what comments it brings......
*****************************************************************
The man walked on. His pace had increased. Thoughts churned his head furiously. The 3 females following him continued doing so. The hunter and the hunted both knew which foot the boot was on.

“If they get me”, thought the man,"tommorows headline would read: Adam teasing reaches epic proportions: Roadside Juliets claim another victim” He thought, with irony, of the apposite name for this evil. It had become very unsafe for males to be travelling unaccompanied after sunset, yet he had ignored warnings. Why was I born a man?
He thought for the umpteenth time that God must be a She, for only then could She inflict such pain on men.

The mere birth of a boy was becoming a rare occurence, for male infanticide was a prevalent menace. The Government was trying its best to curb it; male infanticide was declared a major offence. Various groups were trying to spread awareness of this. The Presidents Award for Best Film had gone to "Pitrbhoomi", which dealt with that subject. Apparently the film showcased a perverted society where men have become extinct, and one man was husband to a family of 5 women.Well...that day is not far off...he thought morosely.

And even if boys do manage to cross infancy and puberty, very little could be done about benzene deaths.Yes, it was gross injustice but what could you say when the laws were not stringent and lawmakers themselves women. His own brother had been ignited with benzene for not conforming to demands made before marriage. He had paid 12 lakhs, got a ladies scooty, and could not do anything else.

And the android cycle and andropause.The lesser said the better. He often wondered why men should bear offspring. It was his misfortune that he carried the Y chromosome and he knew that it was not his fault if a boy was born. But he got beaten for that though the sex determining chromosome comes from the female. Right and wrong are decided by who is in power at the time. The laws of Fuzzy logic told him that. It indeed was fuzzy.

Come to think of it, he was one of the rare ones who was educated. Why education when you are going to become a househusband and merely an instrument of copulation, was the common refrain. Yet he had doggedly refused to listen. He was highly qualified now, despite all the quarrels with his wife over his job.

And the females were closer now. One more turn and he knew he would be safe.
Even as he broke into a run to take the corner quickly, he thought of particles and anti particles. He knew all about atomic and particle physics. Of every universe that has an anti universe which is diametrically opposite. He wondered idly where the alternate universe to this would be. He would give anything to be there. But he didn’t really believe in its existence. People can’t be so cruel anywhere else, he thought.

He turned blind at the corner and raced over the footpath.

It was a cul-de-sac.

Even as life sucks.....it does go on....

2007-11-01T16:48:00.000-05:00

I am really happy right now.The sun is out.The mild sun of winter,that brings with it its warmth,and makes you drop everything and just stand and stare.I am still working on the misery called Matlab,but I went out to take a break , and am glad I did.
Talking with my friend,standing outside the department,suddenly I stood transfixed.In the distance I saw a girl,and she was coming right at us.Oh how graceful she was,as she glided over the ground on her roller skates.She weaved,she dodged,jumped onto the sidewalk and made it seem as if she was born with wheels on her legs!Now a few mins later I dont even remember how she looked! For once,I wasnt watching the girl the way I normally do,so taken in was I with her grace;)
She disappeared into the crowd,but left me feeling great indeed.
I appreciate this moment all the more because the last week has been one of the most frustrating weeks of my life.Every night I go to sleep angry,and in the morning, I get up angry again.I am angry at myself,my friends,and feel quite sorry for myself at times.And lots of things have been going wrong too,just at this time.
I hope this week ends this agonising exam for good.I am sick,tired,frustrated, and in general have lost my good humour,all because of this dastardly thing called coding.
And maybe this is the time to share a thought about computer "science".(I would put a lot more quotation marks around that word if I could) A professor here told me in all seriousness how its the disciplines that lack science which go to great lengths to prove they are,and even have it in their names.Consider how ridiculous physical science,or chemical science,or mathematical science sounds.The word science is redundant, and implicit,and am happy that I dont belong to some "mechanical science".Now consider the other "sciences"- social "science"(trying hard to keep a straight face),political science(apoplexy!!), and I wont even name the other that I have in mind.
I am inclined to agree with him.
But all that doesnt change the fact that am sick ,tired and frustrated with everything! Life sucks to infinity.Indeed....

One fun filled day

2007-09-22T22:56:00.000-05:00

Today was simply awesome.To cut things short,the cricket match made my day!
In the morning, Jagannath and Jhampala came over to watch the semifinal. After a lot of cursing,the links finally worked,and I settled down to watch my first complete cricket match in more than a year:) The last time I tried watching,I went away angry and upset at the Indian debacle against Srilanka at the WC.I was hoping today would be better, and thankfully it was.Shouting,cheering,and being simply awestruck by Yuvraj's pyrotechnics, the Indian innings passed by in the blink of an eye.
Then we wondered and feared what the Aussie response was going to be.It was all well until Symonds walked in.Then followed absolute mayhem. But I watched it till the end.I enjoyed the drama that unfolded, and finally savoured the moment of victory:)
It was an exhilarating feeling, something I have missed sorely the past one year. A few hours of this is worth a dozen movies any day!What I will also remember are the abuses we hurled at the bowlers,(the choicest ones reserved for Joginder Sharma in his first spell:) It reminded me of watching matches in Topaz.You would rather die than let your near and dear ones hear the language that is used in the TV room when cricket matches are in progress;)
I really liked Dhoni's attitude to the game-and he doesn't make any inane comments after the match.What I found so refreshing were his words to Joginder Sharma before the last over-that the Aussies were used to winning,and are expected to win from here too.So just bowl as you would in a domestic match,and let the batsman do all the work,if he could.
I think this match might just have rekindled my interest in the game.Incidentally,this might also sound the death knell for one day cricket as we know it.
After the match ended,I hardly got any time for lunch before we left for the temple-their 10th anniversary celebrations. The main objective was the food stalls-home made dishes that you could have after buying tickets.I had delicious pav-bhaji, absolutely ethereal chutney with vada,idli and dosa. All work has been deferred till tomorrow.
So I sit writing now, contented and happy.There ought to be more days like this, I reflect!
And I really don't care if we win or lose on Monday.Today was good enough:-)

5 years hence and the beginning of a new sem

2007-09-03T12:29:00.000-05:00

Just to remind myself of another trivial milestone,September 3rd,2002 was the first day of college.When hostel rooms were allotted, and sitting in the Barn,seniors eyed us ominously from the sidelines.Grabbing the best cupboard and the best cot in the room,and then going down for the most horrifying meal of my entire life.It was pongal,I remember clearly, an unimaginable,unpalatable gooey substance,to be had with a little sugar by the side.I have often reflected that they never could produce a worse meal in 4 years.It must have been one sublime effort the first day,designed to make sure that it only gets better.
I can actually see myself as I was then-younger,foolish but also with a burning optimism and romanticism about life-something that is still unchanged I think.
Cutting short my wistful reminiscencing, new semester classes have begun.This semester promises to be interesting,exciting and tough.In fact my life has already moved up a gear in one week.I also had a lot of fun the past one month with the other NITTIans and it reinforced what I always felt,that its so easy to connect with people sharing a common past, even if you did not know them before.
My blogging might become infrequent now that classes have started.But if inspiration strikes,in the form of zip codes or the by-now-popular(notorious) Preetha-Preethi Propositioning Problem:D (notice the skillful use of alliteration here:),then I will not let that moment pass.
Here is hoping for good grades, good life and good research for this semester!

The truth about arranged marriages

2007-08-08T15:02:00.001-05:00

I had my final exam today and the paper being easy,the exam was a breeze.So 3 weeks of rest follow for me after a busy month of classes.After my exam,I happened to read this:
http://21writersblock.blogspot.com/2007/08/youve-got-mail-again.html
Now the author happens to be someone I am very fond of,and her earnest appeal to people in general to find a way to explain the idea of arranged marriage didnt fall on deaf ears.I took upon my frail shoulders the onerous task of removing the stigma(if I may call it that) associated with an "arranged" marriage.I know that the tone of my writing puts the word "arranged" at about the same level as the word match "fixing" in cricket.A thousand pardons for that inadvertent error.At the outset, let me issue the usual disclaimers that am neither married nor in love,and any views that I may express may be taken with many grains of salt.

To any prospective girls who might have an outside chance of falling in love with yours truly--I agree that after reading this your feelings for me would probably be not far from that you share for a brick on the road,or the friendly neighbourhood bulldozer, for that matter.I hasten to add that I am a romantic at heart,and its just my other side taking over for a brief period.I may be guilty of bringing down something as intangible as love,to something as mundane as mathematics.However,there are similarities-both are abstract:)) to start with.But if you look beyond the obvious ,am sure the parable am going to narrate will prove most instructive.
I shall assume that most of my readers are familiar with some numerical techniques for finding roots of equations.But the person for whom the post is intended, though clever, almost certainly doesnt,so a quick introduction.
A function f(x) is said to have a root at c if f(c)=0.Now consider an equation like f(x,y). The point (i,j) is a root if f(i,j)=0.
Consider an equation like x-cos(x+4)=0 or better still sin(x)-log(y) +6=0
I ask you to find a root of the equation.
To come to my point,I need 2 names.Lets take,err...preetha and preethi,for want of any better names:)).I give this problem to both of them, and allow them use of an elementary calculator.
Preetha,being a highly whimsical girl and a good programmer,insists on the following idiosyncrasy.She wants to arrive at the solution by chance alone,so with the help of a random number generator,she tries out numbers one after the other and tries to find if any of them is a root.Sometimes its love,oops! sorry, root at first sight.But often the random numbers turn out too random,and try as she might,picking a root by trial seems too difficult for some equations.But she is delighted whenever she does stumble on the root by chance:)
Preethi on the other hand is a girl singularly devoid of such eccentricity.She consults a book of numerical recipes and hits upon tried and tested techniques like the Golden Search method,Newton Raphson method,bisection method or for more complicated functions,Steepest Descent method and so on.The way these methods work is as follows.
Instead of choosing at random,from the general behavior of the given function,a smaller region is identified in the search space,where a root is likely to occur.Once the region is identified,simply do what Preetha does at random-try out numbers in the region and see which one fits.Notice that in the end, you dont accept a number as a root without checking its functional value.So you are not compromising in any way:))
The general name for such techniques is quite appropriate-Directed Search methods:))
Some more comments on this technique are warranted.An equation can have more than one root.But they all might not lie in the same search space.Also let us recognise a tacit assumption we have made that the equation in question has a real root,which might even be false.(sorry!!)
Assuming that both Preetha and Preethi arrive at the same solution,lets now explore the matter further.For one thing,would you expect that Preetha is happier than Preethi just because she "found" her root by chance alone?Likely not.Now how viable is Preetha's method? If she has time till kingdom come,its a foolproof method.But if you are short of time, then trusting the God of Randomness is not highly advised.
Then there is the problem of "irrational" roots:) In such cases people stop their search once they find an integer value sufficiently close to the root.:)How close?That's decided by the Convergence Criterion -the mathematical term for this.
Also let us remind ourselves that the best method actually would be to graph the function and simply determine all the roots by inspection. But such a process is feasible if you are looking from above ,which we are not.
Having said all that,when I have an equation of my own to solve,I will give the random numbers a chance first:)To my dearest random root finder I have this to say-I do wish with all my heart that the correct number pops up soon.Randomly,or with an algorithm,does it really matter ?:)
I believe in the fact that if you wish something for others,it comes true.And I say this in all seriousness.

Important dates of the second kind ! :)

2007-08-03T16:23:00.001-05:00

If you are starting to read it thinking its about my dates,you are wrong.I have given up on that and am resigned to the fact that nothing like that will ever happen to me :))
This post is more to remind myself than about writing anything funny or concrete.

Today is August 3rd.Exactly a year ago on this day, I got my visa. Maybe not everyone will think that event noteworthy,but I know otherwise.I was put through an emotional shredder for a month before finally getting it.And so how does it feel,I ask myself, a year hence?
Well, it mostly feels like a dream, as though all that never happened.And yet there is a residue of the disappointment, the uncertainty,the prospect of seeing your dreams crumble, that gets me disturbed simply by thinking.Now sitting in the future,it sometimes feels that it was not anything to worry about.And thats the peculiar quality of the human psyche.
I once read a book by Dan Gilbert titled Stumbling on happiness,and it is this quality that he often talks about.
The inability of the human mind (or heart, whichever you prefer) to reconstruct effectively or accurately the emotions felt in the past.I have felt dissapointment before, joy and elation too,but every time is like a first time. It is as if my own past experiences are vicarious to my own self.
As I wrote once before, I remember dates.So it is that I recall some important events that happened in August in my life.

Two years ago I wrote the GRE exam on August 1st. I rushed back to college immediately from Bangalore because Delphi was coming to campus on the 2nd.I remember walking bleary eyed past the ad-block as I saw my friends ,dressed smartly, rush towards A-2 hall.I remember being congratulated for what then seemed like a great score.Next thing I saw was the written test paper- had lots of microprocessors and programming in it and so that was the end for me:)).
However it was not the end for Pattu.The only mech guy who cleared the written,I can recall vividly,his face flushed, outside my room window,waking me up from my afternoon nap,saying: "Shriram mera ho gaya!!!" :-) There are few times in ones life that you really,and I mean really feel delighted at another's success, but life in college gave me numerous such occasions.

There were more things that happened that month.On the 10th I wrote the TOEFL.On the 27th,Pawan and I got placed (but never joined the Tatas:). Infact I landed here on the 13th last year.Maybe August is a great month for me!

But Pattu's story doesnt end there. Very soon after there was a report in the ET that Delphi filed for bankruptcy.There is no end to the fun it brought us at Pattu's expense.I kept the copy of the newspaper in Pawan's room, and whenever this pest would bother us as we were having some discussion of great import (generally of a nature too scandalous to be mentioned in a blog:), Pawan would point to that newspaper by the corner.Pattu the Pest would then slink away sheepishly ;)
Let me dedicate this post to Pattu-that pestilential creature who figures in most of the good times that I have had- and due to whom I gained so much and despite what am gaining now, realise all that am losing.

Zipcodes and other matters of national importance

2007-07-23T20:42:00.000-05:00

Its that time of the year again,when young men(women too before a feminist disapproves) with dreams in their eyes board flights to this land of 2% reduced fat milk and orange blossom honey.So naturally the question of my address came up, for hosting these new kids on the block.Incidentally, with several people of my college coming,it should be fun.But anyway while typing out my address the zip code caught my attention.
What a peculiar word- Zip code.
Instantly my fertile imagination began to conjure up appalling images of zips which open only with codes.What a cataclysm to befall the male bastion, I pondered.If zips were ever coded.Getting my cycle lock opened when its raining itself takes time, as I found out to my anguish a couple of days back.If nature ever puts you on notice, getting the....err..... zip( for once the author is short of words,and his alternatives all appear most inappropriate:) open in time can often be most challenging as most of you must definitely have found out a few times in your life.And imagine a three digit number lock on it, to compound matters.The prospect chills my bones to the very marrow.
And while we are at it let me digress and expound my views about the zip.A most versatile thing,the zip.Have any of you ever wondered why the zip was named the zip?Am sure you never have so I will proceed to elucidate my line of thought. Imagine trying to explain to a 4 year old boy what the zip is,without using the word zip.
The car zipped down the road. He zipped past in his cycle. Are these descriptions based on the the way the"zip" moves? Or indeed is the zip called zip because it goes "zip-zip-zip" when you pull it up or down?Does it indeed go "zip" or are we conditioned to hear it as zip because we named it zip?You see what I mean-I have run rings around you with this profound tautology.
Of course I with my infinite wisdom can define it purely as a mechanism with interlocking teeth moving on a blah blah blah....but the child wont be impressed and probably ask me if I have been eating locoweed.
I can hear cries of people in my mind already, shouting-
chaat! (dismissive)
chattttttttttt !! (irritating)
chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat !!!( means if I could get your neck in my hands right now I would love to apply a sufficiently high moment so that torsional failure occurs:)
The last of these is typically reserved for me when I am in one of these moods. :-) One of my specialities and delights was to extract the above mentioned sentiment from perfectly nice people.Like Montmorency in 3 Men in a Boat, my day is never complete or satisfying if I don't do this to atleast one person.
By the way,the different contextual usages of the word chat is what distinguishes the NITTwit from his lesser brethren.But again if one is a nitwit by nature,you cant teach one to be a NITTwit.So I desist.
But to round up this matter of import-I finally found a solution that allowed me to breathe easy somewhat. I remember when I was a kid,if your..errr..zip wasn't properly zipped up,the concerned person used to be alerted that "his postbox is open".(I desist from talking anymore about this most wonderful metaphor)
And there you have it!! A perfectly close formed solution to our problem! Zip Codes...post boxes...the connection would be obvious even to morons!
For others motivated by this monograph,I would suggest that the word "pin code" as used in India might also yield interesting solutions upon introspection.That might be a rewarding line of thought.In fact if I could I would myself pursue it :)

Idle ramblings

2007-07-07T20:22:00.000-05:00

This is being written as a comment to this-
http://a-mavericks-foghorn.blogspot.com/2007/07/of-nit-t-niit-and-it.html

If you have finished reading that then you may proceed to read what I have to say.
I must say my friend had a perfectly acceptable explanation as to why he went about reading the same news item ,or rather different versions of the same news (should I use new as the singular of news??Very singular word -news..pun intended of course..How does this sound-sensational new,hot new etc..Anyway never mind!. He assures me its not because he is sitting jobless in summer at the very least(?)
The news item hardly surprised me-the branding of NITT as NIIT.Being the busy man that I am(!) I just laughed it off with typical sarcasm,but my friend here could not stand the perpetration of this outrage.After all a gold medal with NIIT inscribed on it is hardly worth the glister is it?:)
To continue-let me play Devil's Advocate.Let me try to explain that such errors are quite possible.It is all attributed to The Printer's Devil .(no relation to Devil's advocate,mind you)
To illustrate let me tell you a most instructive story.
Once upon a time,The German crown prince was in England for a visit.
The newspaper headline went- "German crow prince in London"
Understandably outraged,the Germans demanded an apology which was duly tendered by the newspaper the next day.It read:" We apologise for our error in the story of the German clown prince".
Well,need I say more?.The Germans didnt ask for another apology.
That was my point, and may your cup of woe brimmeth, if you didnt get what I meant!!
To talk of more random issues regarding NITT, I think its fated that the NITTwit will never get his due. Back home in Calcutta in the days of yore when I was a young boy having just secured admission to NITT/REC Trichy,I remember friends of my dad in his office asking "Chele kothai podche?"( as in where is your son studying)
My dad, with suitable pride in his voice would reply to which they would ask:"Oita kothai, Bangalore?"(is that in Bangalore?:) My dad would be suitably miffed,while my ever present sarcasm would make me laugh.
There you have it- the tragedy of it all, NITT being reduced to a no entity near Bangalore.The joke is on Bangalore more than on NITT -this for the benefit of those among my readers whose heads are virtually cathode ray tubes (and I always suspect Iblog to belong to that set:)
The incident I narrated has happened too many times to pay any attention to.But now for an interesting case.
At the end of 3rd sem perhaps,I was bankrupt.But worse-Pattu and Ashwini were also bankrupt-worst of all I was bankrupt because I had lent money to Somnath (the eternally poor:).
I asked my dad to send me a DD.My dad, with his customary pride, addressed it to NIT Trichy instead of REC Trichy despite my warnings.The inevitable happened-the DD reached home after I came home for my holidays.
With that anecdote,this proud NITTian takes leave of you.I thoroughly enjoyed myself, pulling lots of legs in this post.
On a more serious note-congrats to the guy joining PSU and saying no to 23lpa.You will go places !Dont you worry!

Tagged !

2007-07-07T20:18:00.000-05:00

Rules:
1.Players start with 5 random facts about themselves.
2.Post these rules along with your 5 random facts.
3.Tag 3 other people and notify them that they have been tagged.

Well, here goes 5 random facts about myself-

1. When you talk to me,I often go off on a tangent, carried away by some word or phrase .This is at times irritating to people (though not to my best friends, I imagine:)For starters-when I was "tagged"-the first thought was Orkut, Gazzag,Zorpia, Jhoos and now this new thing called Tagged, which is spamming my inbox like crazy:-)

2.I have got a great memory for people,places and events-I can recall with vivid details what I was doing, what we were eating, what each person said and so on.But no!I do not remember the difference between upmilling and downmilling,or the intimate(!) details of an engine lathe,or what is the pitch of an M10 screw/nut/stud/bolt ;)

3. I love puns-especially of the raunchy kind.I love to play with words, and manufacture innuendos out of the most commonplace statements.A particularly well documented habit ,no more on this!!

4.I love food and eating-and can go to great lengths for that.It has been said (rather unkindly by Somnath,I should add) that I never say no to food.

5.I am a nice guy!!! (Yes, really...:)))

I tag-Maverick,Lassie,Ranjiv

The finer points of American life

2007-06-04T21:23:00.000-05:00

The past ten months or so, my writings have mostly dealt with nostalgia, depression, and occasionally,some cheerful things like entropy (only mech engineers need try to understand how entropy can be cheerful,of all things.In fact,if you think my senses are isotropically atrophying,you are probably right:-)That atrocious sentence is just a taste of things to come in my future posts.
But you will live through this one all right.For am going to write about the things that I find quite admirable here, something that I should have done quite a while ago.
Karmanya vadhikaraste, ma faleshu kadach na. Perhaps the essence of The Gita. And yet, I comprehend those lines only after coming here,in a capitalistic country,ironically.Nothing exemplifies what I say better than exam/submission time. Americans work diligently and come what may, they wont pull the typical Indian stunt of a nightout.Once night falls, they will leave at that point,irrespective of how they have done. The code may or may not run.The plots might be wrong.The proof may be awful.But they wont go on.They start work early and finish on time. In contrast Indians, typically will let the grass grow under their feet first.Once enough has grown,they will then toil night and day, colonise the computer lab, all the while keeping their eye fixed on what they want,namely the output/grade.Hardly the followers of The Gita, are we? The American's careless indifference to grades and results is something that I admire. Of course I also understand that in India now we cant survive without being result oriented.Its the way we are brought up, and incidentally most last minute desi submissions often turn out better than the others. In India academic success is almost the only way to make a career.Yes, there are very successful people in other careers too,but lets not kid ourselves and be romantic. For every successful cartoonist, sportsman, artist, or people like that, there are thousands who have fallen by the way side. In the U.S.A, you can make your living as a carpenter or plumber, and live comfortably. Also, the fact that we have come so far for an education means that we obviously are more driven to succeed.So if seen that way, perhaps our behaviour can be rationalised.
However no rationalisation can excuse unethical behaviour,of the kind that am about to describe.
The true meaning of honour and ethics too I discovered after coming here. There is a code of honour that we sign on every assignment and I used to do that with typical cynicism .However during exams I found there were no invigilators!We were just left to ourselves !It was understood, and taken for granted, that nobody would resort to unfair means. To repose such trust made me feel rather ashamed of my earlier cynicism. And there were a few infamous instances that I came to hear about, in classes, with a predominantly Indian population.Assignments were copied en masse , and instructors had to take drastic measures.In one of my courses, two desis had suspiciously similar(correct) answers to a crucial problem, one that had felled the best. The professor called them and asked about it,and these two fed him a cock and bull story.However their story was taken at face value,which again told me something.It is so easy to take advantage of this trust,and I really find it most disgusting when people do that. Not everyone does it , only some do, but almost everyone who does seems to be Asian, which doesnt do us or our country any favours. But it is a wonderful thing isn't it, to pass the responsibility onto you , and assuming that you will act ethically. Such a change from back home!

The clock chimes the hour....

2007-05-21T13:22:00.000-05:00

I am near New York City.
Today is my birthday.
And if you think that alone is enough to have a blast, you are as wrong as wrong could be.For am alone, feeling desolate and empty.
Nobody around to talk to even. Solitude today has driven me mad. And its nobody's fault, not even mine.
I thought I would go alone to a museum. But that doesnt appeal to me. There are 2 Tamil movies that I could watch.But that doesnt sound good either. So here am, still sitting -the bus has gone even as I speak. This has surely been my worst birthday ever- forgotten by people around and best forgotten by my own self.
How frail the mind of man, and how potent the curse of solitude!!I find it so stifling, to listen to the reverberations of my own thoughts jangling in disharmony.Perhaps its time I learn to live with myself. To accept that times like this are here to stay.
And yet another year ticks by my life.I turn 25..I find it amusing to think of class 6 history lessons.Of Aryans and their life expectancy of a 100 years. Of the first 25 years of life known as Brahmacharya. Never mind that I have been a far from ideal brahmachari (except in the things which matter, that is :-) I find it amazing that the feelings on the age scale are so logarithmic. Turning 25 feels so different from turning 20. I was excited about 20, because it meant more freedom but as you inch along you dont feel so good about 25. I think its because you realise that the course of your life is well set and there is no more a bewildering array of possibilities or wonder about the future anymore. There can be minor changes but you cant really surprise yourself, can you, a few years from now? That way there is a sort of helplessness about it now whereas at 20 you felt you could do anything and you were the master of your fate. And yet, how many times in the past have I found myself saying: "If only time would pass by, and I could be transported into the future, when the uncertainties have blown over and things have settled.."
Such are the foibles of the mind and the heart. I want my tomorrow today and tomorrow I will want my yesterday.
I believe I am not unique in my feelings. Perhaps there are others like me who feel the way I do,a vague discontent with life for no discernible reason.
Despite my depressing mood, I must thank all friends of mine who went out of their way for me.In particular, Pawan and Malavika- you are killing me with curiosity, and Preethadi - I am really touched by your invitation.Thank you so much for making me feel wanted.
As I see the numbers on the wheel of life spinning by,I wish for myself and my friends that our lives transcend the mundane and become meaningful and extraordinary.

I wish......

2007-04-30T16:40:00.000-05:00

I wish I could

Go and eat in the familiar old mess again,bad food eaten with great friends, and never mind the taste!

Skip breakfast and have 2 vadas and a tea at 10.10 in the Snacky...

I could go to the Pearl Coffee shop at night , eat biscuits and feed the styrofoam cups to the cows again.

Order a glass of papaya juice for Rs. 6.00 at the Juicy, and laze around one hot afternoon after class,while quibbling with Pawan or Pattu or Vicky over who will pay..

I could be awakened by the sounds of Gyani's speaker blaring out Marilyn Manson's "This is the new shit"..

I could feel the wind in my face as I pedal uphill from the Bank to Octa...

I could get wet in the rain on Topaz terrace again,without a thought for tomorrow...

It took me several hours to walk through the corridor to my room again,talking to people on the way...

Go to Tabs or Meridian and eat like there is no tomorrow...

Never go single on a bicycle again....

Sit in class and sleep with my head lolling,oblivious to the teacher watching...

Play an extravagant backhand slice on the TT board again, the night before a semester exam...

Smell the stink of clothes soaked too long in the detergent...

Turn my room inside out after someone mistook a lizard for a scorpion...

See "all kinds" of movies with 10 people in a room,and bend double laughing at the comments...

Sit on the slab outside my room reflecting and dreaming about the wonderful life ahead...

Feel the Coke burn my eyes, the egg yolk running down my hair and the stinging kicks on wet denim, awarded for an 'achievement'...

Spend hours on the game of one upmanship with Pawan-creating absolute groaner puns...

Talk endlessly with Pawan and Pattu about the woman of my dreams who will bowl me over...

These are those small things that I wish for, the simple pleasures of life which I never thought twice about. A chance conversation with Vicky brought it all out. Its nearing a year since hostel life ended, so my mind inevitably keeps going back and thinking-What was I doing this day last year. I shall write one more post in May on the year that was and on so much that has happened since.

When the boot is on the other foot....

2007-03-31T20:21:00.000-05:00

Last week I saw "The Party", a 1968 Peter Sellers comedy.Sellers plays an Indian called Hrundy Bakshi, a film extra who is invited by mistake to a big Hollywood party instead of being fired. Sellers looks incredibly Indian and speaks with a very convincing accent too.
I sat in horror for the first half an hour, feeling completely outraged by what was happening onscreen. It was a horrible caricature of Indians in general and I felt it particularly distasteful.
In fact I think a movie like that wouldnt get away scot free today, without charges of racism surfacing.
And one of my good freinds here pointed out that Hindi movies are no different. And I agree with her.I have lost count of the number of times I have seen Tamilians(South Indians) being stereotyped in a highly ridiculous manner( esp the Late Mahmood).And nobody talks like that !!!
Of course having lived in a hostel with people from all over India,I do know none is spared-Bongs,Mallus,Punjabis,Biharis,Gultis et al-you name it!!
But I never found that as offensive or irritating, perhaps because they are Indians too (and also because everyone gives as good as they get!:-)
Maybe its my ego being hurt at the slight from a foriegner.Or I have become more sensitive about these issues after leaving India.
Infact that reminds me of another thing-the vision that people here have about India being an 'exotic' land of snake charmers and the like.And one of the professors actually told my room mate some drivel about Calcutta being a city with lots of snake charmers!!Now thats new!!
The general knowledge in this part of the world is practically non existent-but wait- I wont start on that now-lets save that for later.
When I went to the local Mall here I saw an "Indian shop".It sold things like wooden snakes and, hold your breath, "Hemchampa Agarbathee" and the humble old "Mooda"(now extinct bamboo stools:-)Well, thats the vision that they have of India!!
Coming back to what I was saying, whatever the reason, I do realise now that its not much fun when you are at the wrong end of the joke. I must be honest enough to admit that I would never have thought so much had the lead character been of some other nationality.
In retrospect I am glad that I saw that movie. Sometimes you need to be on the other side to get a better perspective.
It has made sure that next time I start a joke about that Sardarji, I will think twice.
(As an after thought,I must say Sellers is a brilliant actor)

Read for yourself

2007-03-02T12:31:00.000-06:00

It makes me feel sick, but being a man I suppose I have to face up too-to the realities that abound. I find it shameful that not passing lewd comments, or misbehaving with women in public, is by itself now a virtue.
http://www.anniezaidi.com/2006/03/streets-stories-strategies.html
No more words,they dont help at all.

One sunny winter day...

2007-02-16T15:43:00.000-06:00

Well,..I am back...after almost a 5 month hiatus.In the interlude,I was pleasantly surprised by comments, complaints and attention the blog received from some of my regular readers.Infact I realised then that I have readers-who dont just stumble into it, like stones on a road but actually visit the site.
Ask me not why I didnt blog so long.Its certainly not for lack of things to say-in fact there is so much I dont know where to begin.But sloth-one of the sins of man-can certainly take the blame.
When I read my last post again,it certainly shows me the state of mind I was in.But that didnt prevail for long.As I had predicted,within days of writing that, a nice royal old fashioned screw in an exam cleared all the cobwebs of my mind .
What followed thereafter can only be described as an exercise in academic orgy-assignments followed relentlessly,mid terms beckoned with ominous notes,and the finals had started casting their shadows too.To quote Darwin, it was indeed the best of times and the worst of times.However I liked it, for finally I was busy again ,and moreover I had started getting the feeling that involuntarily at least, I was beginning to learn things.
My efforts bore fruit.Long due academic success did come to me, and savour it I did and now hope to continue that. I also had a great holiday,which ended all too early,in retrospect.The fag end of the holidays were some of the most dreariest days ever, spent in a ghost town.
It was almost idyllic.Things were all going as I had dreamed.
And then I learnt some valuable lessons as life just jerked the rug from under my feet. One of the most trite phrases in cricket-"Its never over till the fat lady sings"-came alive before me and I got a crash course on reality.Brings to mind one more proverb-"many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip".I can tell you that when the cup shatters in mid air and you are left gulping empty space instead of its contents, its not pretty.You go through the wonderful spectrum of emotions.Disbelief,anger,hate,frustration and finally acceptance.And when you finally accept,that is when you pick up the pieces and crudely make another cup ,glad for the fact that at least you can still have some tea even if not a cup full.
I would like to think that I have come out wiser from all that, and as always, I still hold onto the steadfast belief that what I deserve I will get,sooner or later.
I have intentionally written everything in a metaphoric way,for what means so much to me,may with reason ,be viewed by others as a trifle.After all each to his own!
Well now my life is a little empty again, not much work to do, and thats the reason why I turn to writing again.Let me see how the next few months turn out.
Finally,before signing off-something that I noticed just now myself.I have titled this post "one sunny winter day", and then gone off on a tangent.
Well, mercurial indeed.

eternal darkness in a sunshine mind......?hope not...

2006-09-30T15:06:00.000-05:00

I am feeling miserable today.Its one of those days when you dont want to wake up,when you feel there is nothing to look forward to.In fact that is my complaint about life at present.There is something missing,and I am still searching in vain for it.When I was in school,I always dreamed about a future,I worked for it and got it.When I was in college,I dreamed again,but the future then didnt seem to matter so much,for when the present is so joyous, who cares about the future anyway.But I nevertheless had a vison for myself,and now here I am,this is my today that I had wanted,but somehow there isnt the same charm about it now as it was then.How fun it was then dreaming together, about tommorow,about Ivy league universities and about the rosy life ahead.
I think,I brood,about myself,about my attitude to life and end up thinking in circles.I find no answers.Why am I disillusioned with life so far?Is it because I dream no dreams about tommorow now?Maybe.For, now I have to redefine what I want from my future.When you actually come to a place you have visualised all along,suddenly you feel afraid,for you dont know where to go next.
I am least interested in my assignment on Fluid mechanics.Was this the same subject that drove me on the last 4 yrs?
I do recognise however that what I feel is not simply because of where I am.Probably if I had joined work in India too I might have felt the same.I see people around me who are happy simply because they are here,and I dont identify with them.How easy it would be to slip into the mode of looking towards friday the whole week and then partying,and staying intoxicated the weekend,and repeat the thing again.Apparently that is "fun",whatever it means.But I have promised myself that I wont descend into that mode of life,and I will keep seeking that elusive "thing" which made me what I was,and which has been behind everything that I did so far.
Then yesterday I got a forward from someone titled "Being a twenty-something", apparently written by the author and musician Leonard Cohen.I could identify immediately with it and I cant help but quote some lines which I think are the crux of the problem.
"It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing
that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may
not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a
year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are
now.
You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone
and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and
cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is
drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay
where you are or move forward."
Maybe thats the reason,I thought.I am being held to ransom by a past thats gone into the sunset and by a future that I am afraid of.And I see some changes too.
I think I have stopped seeing the lighter side of life these past few months.From being with friends who knew me for raunchy remarks for everything and who laughed for hours like madmen everyday,maybe thats what I am missing.Humour.
I just wish that I would laugh till I cry,as I used to.Or cry myself hoarse hurling abuses at our teachers as I used to.Or feel the blood pound in my head,sweat pour down my arms,and feel the excruciating pain in the shoulders,leaden legs and thighs trying to bowl as fast as I can.Maybe thats what I need.Exercise.I remember how me and Pawan used to take out all our frustrations of Jayaram amd mechatronics,at the TT table.Its time I try that then.
Or maybe I miss the fire in the belly that used to come from being in a tough spot,of the fear of God that some exams could put in you.
All it needs for me is just some spark of life to ignite the charm again.Maybe one of these days I will just wake up and find what I am looking for.Or maybe a nice royal,old fashioned screw in some exam soon will rekindle the stomach for a fight again.
I am surely beggining to sound maniacal.I wonder are there other people who feel this way,or felt this way?And the thought just entered my head,should I publish this?What would people think...but I think I feel better after writing already, and Iam beyond caring...and anyway as they say the people who matter dont mind and the people who mind dont matter.
I am off now,to the library,to see a movie,and improve my mood.

Enigmatic entropy

2006-09-26T14:09:00.002-05:00

Have you ever heard the song "Return to innocence" by Enigma.I just love that song,for the eerie feeling of earthiness or ..I cant find the word...of the primeval..... that it brings,its lyrics,and most of all its theme.Have you seen the video of that song?Its the most creative video that I have ever seen.Now think of this.What is it that relates that song to thermodynamics and engines.I wanted to set this question in my Technical Quiz at Pragyan this year but I was scared off by others who said it was too random:) and too much like me:0,whatever that meant:)
Coming back to the question.Its a haunting video,which starts with an old man eating a poisoned fruit and dying.Thereafter it goes backward,with the fruit going back to the tree,the tree growing smaller,the man growing younger.Lots of other things-bread turning to wheat,a newly married couple with the wedding played backward,a notebook full of writing being "unwritten",all with glimpses of a Unicorn running backward all the while.It reminds me of what I read somewhere,that if we live life backward,it would end in an orgasm:)That sure is something to think about isnt it?:)(of course the video doesnt go as far back as that:))
The relation with thermodynamics is entropy-the dreaded term ..described loosely as the Second law of Thermodynamics.Entropy precludes the concept of reversible time,giving what is often termed as the 'arrow of time'.That is what prevents things from happenning backward.That is why you cant turn rice into paddy or bread into wheat,that is why time goes as it does. So that was the connection-that it was a thermodynamically unfeasible video that violated the IInd Law:)And not a bad question at all,I still think[;)]
There is lots more to say on entropy,but first more on the song.There is a school of thought that since time goes backward in the song,to understand what it really means ,you have to play the song backward.Well, one night in Topaz when myself and Somu were twiddling our thumbs,we did just that using CoolEdit.It was a pattern of rhythmic unearthly white noise for the most part,except for a small interval of a few seconds when you hear the words"Hell is nice".Thats why it is known as a song to the Anti Christ,the rumour we were trying to confirm.That track of a few seconds is still saved in Somu's computer;)
Returning to entropy,it is often taken as a measure of chaos,that like chaos which can only increase ,and never decrease,so is entropy .I will never forget the marvellous words that the HOD used in 3rd semester (it seems like aeons ago..) when closing the chapter on the second law.He likened entropy to a manifestation of divinity,and gave a brialliant analogy to the spoken word.Each word when spoken goes into the universe,and increases its entropy.And words once spoken cannot be recalled.This was a precis of what he said.Perhaps that is the basis of the adage speech is silvern,silence is golden?
Entropy is a rather subtle thing to understand,and it takes many readings before you come to appreciate its beauty,if you ever do.In fact the whole of Thermodynamics is rather abstruse,an opinion that will find many takers I am sure.That was the reason I balked at taking an Advanced course in ThermoD here.
Recently one of the profs here told us something interesting that bears out what we students have always felt.He quoted from a book titled (ironically), something like, The chequered history of ThermoD:)Apparently one of the reasons it appears to be difficult was that unlike other sciences which grew from mathematicians,this was developed mostly by skilled experimenters.They had to invent their own mathematics to expalin their results which is evinced by all its idiosyncrasies and confusing definitions of property,exact and inexact differentials and so on.In short its filled with traps for the unwary and there is nothing called lucidity in any book:)This view seems quite correct to me.
It is probably the hardest subject to explain to the layman.But I finally found one way.
To end my rant which seems to have digressed quite far from Enigma:),here is a wisecrack on the 3 Laws,(of thermoD, what else?:)
You will be able to appreciate it all the more if you know ThermoD.:)
1st law- You cant win
2nd law- You cant even break even.
3rd law- You cant get out of the game.
Probably as witty as it gets.How I wish I had come up with that.!!!!!!

From me, to the Class of 2006.....

2006-09-17T17:51:00.000-05:00

This post is long overdue.I have been thinking of this since the day I wrote the introduction to the REM.When I wrote that I realized there is so much more that defined our batch,that made us different from the ones earlier.When seniors go back to NIT and find changes,it would have been we who began them.
I could not write all that in the REM,for they were my personal observations,and I was writing then for all the four hundred odd people in our batch,something that will always stay with me.

To start with I saw different shades of life in each of my four years at NIT.And I interacted with three batches of seniors and juniors.Some of my observations might seem biased,and indeed they may be,but I write this not from my opinions of individuals but from the overall outlook and mentality of the people.Indeed maybe three years from now my juniors might feel the same.

It began with ragging.While nothing can justify slapping somebody in cold blood,we took it,simply because we could do nothing about it other than destroy someone's career.The fact that at the end of that ordeal I have discovered some admirable people does nothing to justify that,though I have no bitter feelings towards the same now.As we went along to second year,third year and so forth,we managed to cut down the incidents quite a bit.Now when we finally passed out there was hardly the same fear and fright associated with it.

There is also the whole idea of seniority.It was always taken as a potential weapon to win all battles,and to inflate bruised egos.You were never given the dignity due to you,and even after freshie party and everything,you had to remember that the seniors are always right.That changed completely when we became seniors ourselves and that is the greatest contribution we made,in my opinion.

As juniors ,the worst jobs always go to you.Nothing exemplified this more than cleaning up the food,which stinks up to high heavens,after the annual puja.The seniors would watch while the first years did all the dirty work.That made our blood boil.We had decided that we wouldnt make our juniors do what we ourselves wouldnt.When I waded into the job of carrying and dumping the leftovers,I realised for myself that I had earned their respect only then,not before.What I say is a general trend that was there in our batch.

Can there be anything more humiliating as a third year than getting slapped because you booed a senior during a cricket match?Or having to hide out in seniors hostels for the night because the losing senior team is out to get your goat for showing the middle finger during an on-the-pitch sledging incident?
This was what the Ruby Cup was till last year.Juniors never dared to applaud a shot for fear that the other team would beat them up.And as juniors you can never win a match.While you would hear the choicest abuses directed at you on the field,God save you if you retaliate!But we made sure things changed.The juniors(second and third years ) were in full force to watch the matches.Final years,including me drew boos,words,rebukes and all that happens in the field of play.But we took it like men,and not take the easy way out like earlier years.The result was the fairest Ruby Cup tournament ever,and not won by the final years!

Another refreshing change has been the interaction between boys and girls.The comments and taunts that I was so used to hearing when a junior is now a thing of the past.We have treated our juniors as equals,and the result has percolated down to all the batches now.Now when we see first years being rude and insolent,sometimes we wonder.Was it right?Why dont we fix them now?The temptation is there.But then hell,he has got the right to be rude hasnt he?

So my friends,let them be.We have ushered in a different and may I add,better culture into the college.Lets not change that.As final years we have earned our respect,and not demanded it.That will never change.
There are other accomplishments of ours that are well documented,and I would rather not go into those.This is more important.
When I was standing in Ashutosh Hall in Calcutta,in 2001,and there were 3 mechanical seats vacant in NIT Trichy,I didnt take it.Most of you know this.I have wondered hard and long in retrospect why I didnt.Perhaps it was because it wasnt meant to be.And so it was that at the same place the next year,I chose NIT Trichy.And what a difference its made to me.Whats a year in this whole lifetime anyway?I would have been much the loser even if I had gained a year.

This is dedicated to all of us-boys and girls of the Class of 2006.I am proud to be one of you,for I believe,truly,that we have made a difference.....
Cheers to the spirit of NIT Trichy...
Cheers to the Class of 2006...

With malice to none and charity to all.............

2006-09-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

Today was a nice day.An unexpected peice of kindness really touched my heart.One of my class mates has got a job which pays quite well.There are more than three hundred applicants for the job ,and though I had applied,it seemed remote that I might get called for an interview even.But he surprised me by asking me for my CV.,saying he will forward it personally so that at least they read what is in it.It was unnecessary,he had no axe to grind,and yet he did.It was great.I dont care whether I get the job or get called for an interview,the gesture was worth more than anything else.In this place that so far has me unimpressed by anything in particular,it was a nice moment.Maybe there are nice people here too.But this just set the tone for the evening.
Every Friday,we have what is called Aggie Nights.You get free pizza ,bowling and pool till midnight.Its in a place called MSC( Memoral Students Centre) dedicated to all Aggies who have died, or will die,in wars,past or future.I went today for the second time.There is a magnificent lobby with plush sofas and chairs for students to eat,sit or simply hang around.There is also a grand piano which anybody can play.
I had my pizza and I was siting in one corner of the lobby,alone.Someone was playing the piano,beautifully, and the flute as well.The lilting tunes,the soulful melody,made me envious as always-for that gift of music which I lack and yearn for.But there was more.Having had enough to eat,it was so pleasant to just sit there and watch the world go by.More than that ,it was rare to just be.Without worry,without feelings,to be empty of thought and to be ,for lack of expression,I will paraphrase Lincoln,with malice to none and charity to all.People were rushing,people were eating,some were rushing off to the Bollywood Night,but I just sat there detached,a spectator enjoying the view perhaps,but with disinterest.
It made me realise that solitude is beautiful too at times.I will sign off by quoting, as always 2 more lines:)I dont why,it just leapt into mind.
"Tell me not in mourful numbers,life is but not an idle dream,
Life is real, life is earnest, grave is not its goal."

life within, and without a classroom.

2006-09-14T17:47:00.000-05:00

I am in a much better frame of mind today,primarily because of having submitted two assignments in two days and next due only on monday.So it time for what I hope is a light hearted look at life here so far,in and outside class rooms.I have been planning this for some time but the day has finally dawned today.
I will start with what seems funniest to me-meeting professors for Ra and TA.I met several so far and right from seeing their resume my anxiety mounts.Oh this guy is a stud,I tell myself.With what face do I mail him?Even pressing the send button for a mail seems to be an affront:)Mostly they dont reply,but some did,asking to meet at such and such hour.
The time comes,and it all seems to go wrong just then.For myself ,I never am short of words,people close to me know that :)In NIT I never felt afraid of any prof probably because I knew I am better than them.As a result talking to them was never a problem.I could always come up with some jargon that would frighten them.
But here as soon as I knock on the door and go I feel my knees quaking as though I would wet my pants:)I do not know what to say and there is an irresistible urge to blabber which I suppress with great effort.I mean these people have teaching careers since before I was even born.Suppose he asks me a question,I wonder.What if he asks me why my gpa is less?What if he finds out that I didnt write the CFD code of my final yr project myself?Such thoughts run through my head.Thankfully they dont ask.But they do ask what exactly do you want to do?And then I blabber.Words rush out,I talk incoherently.If there was a jammaster,he would penalise me for slurring,stammering, and sppech defect all at once, and the prof says politely-"say that again?"I do,take a deep breath and start repeating my cv verbatim.The usual answer comes back."I am sorry,there are no vacancies in my research group now,but you can check back in January."Thus after seeing the gold coated middlefinger,:) I go out.Outside you find another student ,Indian usually,waiting.:)He has heard all that happened and he goes in to try his luck.Simple variations of this incident everytime.At the ned I got very pissed off and very bold.I just barged into a chinky profs room without appointment.Imagine my brazeness when I tell an Aerosol prof that I am interested in fluid flows!:)I came out very quickly from there.Err...iblog..you have had such romantic interludes with profs before??:)
And that reminds me ,this week everything seems to incomprehensible.It seems these tensors were lying in wait for me all these years.I was relaxing in class,for everything was merely a repeat of what I knew,when suddenly I heard the name Fourier.For the uninitiated let me tell you whenever you hear the names Lagrange,Euler,Fourier or Cauchy,you better sit up, for they can do unspeakable things to you during examinations:).This warning of course is not for compsceez(have they ever done anything worthwhile?:)okay I am ready for the backlash to follow:)I did when I heard and suddenly the screen was filled with integration signs,summation signs and infinities.I am no village idiot at maths (thats enough of chest thumping for today:),but it was a horrible experience.Well, yesterday that and today these tensors.Perhaps this is grad life:(Lets see whats in store next week.Its going to be work I think after 4 yrs of picnic in NITT.:)Thats all now,am feeling hungry:)

They flash upon the inward eye,which is the bliss of solitude...

2006-09-11T19:24:00.000-05:00

Today I want to say so much but there is so little time.I was working and as I get paid mostly for getting bored,was reading blogs.I came upon a few really beautiful lines,that made me remember some of the best I have ever come across yet.Here are all of those that I could recall........

"Beware,you are heading where you are going to"-Chinese proverb
I had this pinned over my table in Topaz.It is the most subtle proverb I have ever read.It seems so trivial but when I first heard it I was bowled over by the sheer beauty of its phraseology.There is so much depth behind the simple words.Invariably everybody who ever came to my room would ask what it meant.

"A stick cut in half everyday, and so till eternity"-Chinese adage
I found this on the cover of a book by Tai Ran Hsu,on MEMS(Micro Electro Mechanical Systems).This is most mundane I know, but brilliantly contextual.It is the basic principle of working in the microdomain,to reduce all dimensions.It was my elective and though I recall nothing else this is etched in memory.

"To see the world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wildflower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour"
I fell in love with these lines when they appeared as a footnote in the Pragyan souvenir and have never stopped thinking about them since.They are from William Blake's Auguries of Innocence.I have read the poem and its sheer musicality is mind blowing, and though I have never figured out what these lines mean,it has only deeepned the mystery around them.

"What though this radiance which was once so bright,
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour,
Of splendour in the grass,of glory in the flower
We shall grieve not,rather find
Strength in what remains behind"
From Wordsworths Intimations of Immortality.I will never for get this,for I wrote it in the card we gave for our seniors farewell.Perhaps neither will they.More interesting is its context ,that Kabir Bedi quoted this when talking about his four wives:)

"If you can meet with truimph and disaster,and treat these impostors just the same,
If you can risk all your winnings on one turn of pitch and toss,
lose and start again at your beginnings and not breathe a word of your loss
If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty second worth of distance run,
Yours is the earth and everything thats in it, and whats more
You will be a man my son!!"
My favourite lines from Kipling's If.I think of it as my guide in life and it adorned the walls of my room in Topaz just like one more of my favourites,Lincolns letter to his son's teacher.

"The man who knows not,knows not that he knows not, is a fool-shun him.
The man who knows,knows that he knows not,is a simpleton-teach him
The man who knows not,knows not that he knows,is sleeping-awaken him"
-Arabian proverb
This was stuck on the door of my room,taken from The Hindu pages.It lasted till the ward boy thought better of it and tore it off one day while cleaning my room.

"This too shall pass"
The thing which cheers me up when I am down and sobers me down when I am too happy.

"The race is not to the swift,nor battle to the strong,but its to those who want it the most"
You cant put it any better.I know it now.

"mere man ye bata de tu,kis aur chala hai tu,
kya paya nahin tune,kise dhood raha hai tu
jo hai ankahee,jo hai ansuni,ek baat kya hai bata..."
The latest tune to capture my heart,and also the eternal question that I often think about.Though I have a pathological hate for Karan Johar,SRK,Aishwarya Rai and anything to do with their movies,atleast Johar has the good sense to choose good singers!:)

That will be all now.I shall put up more as and when I remember.I hope to discover and come across more like these in future.

Let the battle begin..........

2006-08-27T15:05:00.000-05:00

I am writing this from the Blocker Bldg ,a kind of Octa here.
I have been here for some 2 weeks now,the land of milk and honey,but as yet I am not floored by the place.In fact I cant say that I am enjoying life here.At this point I am reminded of something that I had written when alone in my room,almost 4 years ago,one afternoon in Trichy,hardly a month into college then.
New to college and living in hostel, with all the rigours of ragging,I wondered whether it was worth it to leave home.I even wondered whether in future I would be able to reflect back with pride on the 4 years ahead.I still have the page with me,and whenever I read that it makes me laugh,for those years have been the best in my life yet,and indeed I can reflect with pride on them.I made freinds for life and became a better person.
Now I find myself with similar thoughts again.But the circumstances are changed slightly.No more am I a wide eyed young boy coping with ragging and living alone.But if I felt dejected then now I feel cynical.
For finally the Rat Race has me too.Thats what it is here,a veritable rat race-a rush to find jobs and aid,with secrecy and stealth.Once you get one,you can be the picture of magnanimity,but not till then.I do not think I will ever make freinds here-colleagues maybe ,but never freinds for everyone has their own axe to grind.
Incidentally, I too truimphed in the race,getting the post of a copy editor in the local newspaper.Ironical too that all my engineering skills and education could not get me what my avocation could-70 dollars a week for 2 days work.I am looking forward to it and hope to learn from it as well.
Again I ask myself whether it was worth it to come here leaving all my freinds behind.I was reading Paulo Coelho's "Manual of the warrior of light" in which he says there is no joy in reaching an empty paradise.True indeed, I know now.But if I feel anything at all like what I do about NITT,my time spent here would have been worthwhile.
There is a an event called Ekta in which we are asked to perform a skit, giving us a chance to have a good time and show our talents,but I didnt feel motivated at all.For me,having had the whole of Barn up in applause two years in a row, and having earned the respect of some of the most talented people at NITT,there is no drive left.I do not think I will ever be interested in extra curricular activities again.
My classes begin tommorow.The time for brooding is over,but these days that have churned out such thoughts in my mind deserve to be put down for posterity.Today I stand here straddling my past and the present.I have always thought I deserved to acheive much more academically,for modesty is hardly one of my faults:)Now I have my chance to see for myself how good am I.
But I look forward to it, for academics is the only thing that will drive me here.
Let the battle begin......................

The voyage of horror

2006-08-27T14:45:00.000-05:00

I will start off with what happened at Calcutta airport.My flight was not connecting which meant that I was exceeding my quota of 30 kgs-mine was 44kgs.I was told by the agent that by showing my BA ticket they will allow me but they didn't baggage charge for 14 kgs was Rs 1800 approx.I had smthg like 1000 rs only.I went and talked to the airport duty manager,he refused and told that I have to pay the fine.The amount I came to know only at the counter and when I told him I had only rs 1000 he told me nothing can be done.They would not accept dollars also.he sent me to the duty manager again,I requested him to reduce the fine.finally he agreed.he waived off 7 kgs.I paid fne for 7 kgs which was rs 955.As you then know I was rushed off to special security check up and check in.I was running all over with 46 kgs of luggage and now find it hard to believe that I could lift and run with that all over the place.I was the last to board the flight-the bus taking me had only 2 people.Flight landed at Bombay at 8.15 am.Food was bad on the flight.I immediately called up Anupam.he was sleeping,I told him to call home and tell .After claiming my bags I went to the exit where they run free buses to Intnl Terminal.I immediately got one,The journey took 10 mins.There I immediately went into the terminal.Inside I first had to check in the boxes.There I was told that the BA from London to Washington was delayed and so the BA staff had booked me on United Airlines(UA) instead,the first available flight,at 11 am london time.So I was to spend 8 hrs at London isntead of 2 .They asked me to check in my bag also.I was allowed to keep my file folders though.I checked in and then called home.The flight was scheduled for 1 pm but eventuallly took off at 3 pm IST.The food was good,there was a Tv for everyone on the seat handle.The flight landed at Heathrow at around 8 pm local time.The best thing BA did was that they put 4 of us together- a girl recently married going to join her husband,and 2 working men,one at SAP and the other at Patni computers.All of us were headed to Washington and were seated together.It was still light at London.There was a bitterly cold wind blowing.We went into the transfer terminal-for people who dont have a transit visa to UK-we cant go out into London,we just check into the next terminal bldg.There were walkways there,you simply stand and they roll on like escalators.At the terminal our problems started.The security had been beefed up.We were told we enter carrying nothing or dont enter at all.All I had was my file folders and a book,as did my friends-but even that was not allowed.He told us to get a transit visa,check out and come back into the departure section where we might be allowed to keep them.So we all went to the immigration counter and filled out forms for transit visa.That was easy,we got one for 24 hrs and walked out.To find out about carry on luggage we went in and found all UA counters closed bcos the next UA flights were almost 10 hrs away.So there was nothing to do but wait.We were not provided hotel or lounge acco,which is mandatory if delays are for more than 8 hrs bcos they were already full and only for executive class passengers.As night came on at Heathrow it got colder and colder.Luckily I had my NITT jacket.The seating arrangements at Heathrow were terrible.We had to occupy chairs and not leave them or someone else wld have sat and the chairs were more like seats on public buses-mumbai airport had brilliant seating compared to this.It was night and all shops started to close.Only 2 duty free shops remained open.Only 2 of us had sweaters on.the other 2 felt really cold.We went and sat at one of the shops.people were sleeping on the chairs inside.By this time I was hungry and thirsty,and there are no drinking water facilities in Europe.Water costs more than beer and soft drinks here.I had to pay 1.5 pounds for a half size bottle of water!Then we kept on sitting and talking.I felt hungry,paid some 2.4 pounds for a sandwich containing slices of cucumber and tomato.pathetic to think that I was paying more 200rs for that.Just when it was getting unbearably cold an airport official arrived distributing emergency blankets.these are scotch brite sized packs when folded.They are made of kevlar-nothing but the polythene gift wrapping paper(silver coloured)-but surprisingly effective.two of us slept in the cafe itself.me and another guy went and we found a corner where there is less wind,spread out the sheet and slept on the floor of the airport..Everywhere there were people lying and sleeping.I got up at some 6 o clock in the morning and went to check.The counter of UA was open.They told us we can checkin only at 8 am(3 hrs before) but also told us that only a clear plastic bag containing imp papers wld be allowed in.Everything else-files books etc had to go ina hand baggage.So we got up and purchased a bag for 7 pounds.We put all our files in it.i kept only documents required for immigration with me.Flight gaian was delayed and instead of 11 am it left at 3 pm.But the flight captain was an ex army pilot-he made up for the delay by 3 hrs almost.I must say one thing about Heathrow-its huge.I have never seen anything like that.It has some 10 terminals for international flights-each terminal is bigger than the entire Mumbai airport together.each terminal has 55 gates for departure.so there can be 55 flights waiting to take off at any time form one terminal.Planes are like cars on the runway there.One is accelerating while another is just taking off.This flight had less leg room(economy class).I saw the movie on flight and we landed at Washingotn at 2.30 pm local time.We had to fill out Customs delaration and i94 card on flight.There were lots of security checks everywhere and went in for immigration clearance.That over I had to claim my bags.Except my bags everybody elses arrived.My freinds left,for people were waiting to recieve them.I talked to an airport official-she told me some bags to Houston were lying unclaimed on another conveyor belt.I went and found all my bags there.Then after customs I checked in baggage again.I converted my rupees to $.I got 17$-@54Rs.I went carrying my back pack-now this was a domestic flight and it was allowed.I waited at the departure gate.There are no phone booths like India-for Isd calls you need a calling card.I found one girl going to TAMU on the next seat.I slept all the way on the flight-I was completely drained out.At Houston airport I found my luggage and found that trolleys arent free.$3 for one.We took one trolley and like crazy somehow went down to the inter treminal train taking us to the exit.Outside I found 4 other people waiting for the 9 pm shuttle to College.We got that and arrived.I was staying with some students who had come in a week ago.I had jet lag only the next morning when I got up to a splliting headache and am fine since then.Everybody says its unbeleivable that I recover in just one night-I think its bcos of my trip to south that I dont have any,my body had got used to it.The last thing that needed to go wrong was this.3days ago when I tried to open my big suitcase- the one I felt had smthg wrong-I found the combination has got changed.It was not opening.So I tried 1000 combinations twice-no result-third time I got it open.Now I have got a calling card for 5$.Me and harsha have shifted to our new apartment.Its terribly hot in here, as hot as Trichy.And campus is huge-I get lost everyday.I have to get a cycle again.More later.

A whistle stop tour

2006-08-27T14:19:00.000-05:00

Its been long since I blogged.A lot has happened since.I am recording this so that I may never forget the most eventful week in my life.

I went on a whistle stop trip of Trichy and Ambasamudram via Chennai,in 3 days flat,leaving Calcutta on 6th August and returning back on 9th August!!!

The highpoint of it was my visit to college,though it was for a few hours only.

I remember that on our final journey back in May somu and I were discussing that the true impression we had left on our juniors,of the life we had led,would only be known when we return back,based on the reception we get from them.

I must say I was really moved by the kind of reception I got and it made me feel that I have lived a meaningful life here.Walking alone all the way from gate to the hostels,I remembered that I had traversed that path hundreds of times,but never have I been more alive to the beauty that lay on the way-the delicate smell of moisture on the grass and neem blossoms on the trees outside Octa,the sights and sounds of mornings we harldy saw-than I was that day.It could have been my return from just another vacation,or a night out,for it all seemed so normal-only it wasnt.And that is the maddening aspect of life,it goes on as though nothing has changed.

The other indelible memory I will have is spending evernight on a bus.I spent more time travelling than anything else and its a miracle I got through it all.

Once back it was time for more shopping and packing till finally August 12th arrived.The account of that journey will be in my next post,for it was a horrendous one.

Murphy was an optimist?!!!?

2006-07-18T12:41:00.000-05:00

Am I an optimist or a pessimist?I had never found out for sure.But its fascinating to analyze and compare both points of view in a given situation.To begin with the very definition of them is a little ambiguous to me.The most common that I have seen is this-An optimist looks at the brighter side of things and a pessimist vice versa.In other words I may perhaps say an optimist looks at those factors only which are favourable to him and conveniently forgets or tries to forget the rest.It is perhaps an euphemism for the ostrich-burying-its-head attitude,escapism in a milder form,though I suspect that would be a harsh statement.A pessimist focusses on the negatives of a situation,and expects the worst.In this sense he is probably a worshipper of Murphy:)Can we then expect pessimists to simply surrender to life as it comes,prepared for the worst?we should but rarely does it happen.
I was frequently led astray by the fact that optimism and pessimism are a state of mind and not a function of speech.Many play down their chances,due to the demands of modesty, and give an impression of being pessimists:)Come out after an exam and ask people around-you will know what I mean:)Everybody has got "screwed" or "jacked"-trust mechanical enggs to introduce such words to the english lexicon:)Nobody has done well,including those who will end up on top eventually:)Such people are not pessimists though they proudly proclaim and wear that badge on their sleeve.
Optimism in my view is inextricably linked to and founded on a bedrock of Hope.Looking at the brighter side of things is merely a way of driving away thoughts of failure,and 'hoping' that things will turn out right.Hope is a basic human feeling,which has been around since eternity when Pandora opened the box of troubles and released the Hope fairy.When nothing is coming your way,it is hope that allows you to dream of a day when things will be better.The person who coined the proverb"it is the darkest hour before dawn"-must surely have had hope.Even a death row convict,till the instant the trapdoors swing out from under him, would probably be praying for a miracle that saves him.It is only those who have lost the will to live that lose hope.As long as there is life there is hope.Thinking thus,I realized that you may "expect" the worst,but you always hope for the best.Expectation, after all,is a mathematical quantity,defined by the stochastic laws based on the odds:)
Optimism is more fundamental to human nature.Thus I decided that there are no true pessimists.Pessimism is against the order of nature.It is mere pretence at worst,an attempt at modesty at best.All pessimism is hypocrisy.
I am an optimist.:)

The two Ws-WC and Wimbledon

2006-07-12T22:39:00.000-05:00

I have waited 8 yrs to see the Azzuris have the world at their feet.And finally they vindicated what I wrote about them last time.In fact their match with Germany was the best I have ever seen in my life,a match worthy of the final.The final itself was sad only for the ignominous end to the great career of Zinedine Zidane,a player miles ahead of the rest,including the vacuous Brazilians.
But the Italian truimph has not suited anybody-neither were they the sentimental favourites nor the home team or the universal favourites-this I can gather from all the neswpaper articles after the world cup.In fact if it were possible I have no doubt that the organisers would have awarded the WC to France!!!Wimbledon final was also on the same day as the WC and it was a great match.I feel that Nadal in the future will surely get the measure of Federer.This wimbledon will also be remembered as Agassi's swansong,but more on him on my next post.
For now its Federer.I started watching tennis by admiring Stefan Edberg,then going crazy over Goran Ivanisevic.After those two a certain air of disinterest has come into my mindset,with the result that I am able to appreciate tennis better.But Federer is a genius.He seems to be a chimerical combination of the other players.A return of serve and passing shots like Agassi, a serve like Sampras,his own forehand and agility, and my God!-what a backhand!When I see him play that backhand slice it seems like poetry in motion.Time stands still as the ball floats in the air deliciously.It reminds me of Edberg,that backhand of his.And the sheer variety of shots and treacherous spins that he imparts to the ball makes his play truly sublime.If only I could have seen him play Sampras at his best!That is the beauty of such thoughts-the mere prospect of thinking is so rewarding:)
Sometimes it makes me wonder-is Federer really that good or his opponents so inept?But I guess the sheer beauty of his game makes you reject the latter notion.

Gold doesnt always glister

2006-07-04T02:53:00.000-05:00

This one is about sports,which is close to my heart.With the world cup on,its the right time.My favourites,the Azzuris, are in the semis and looking good (for those who dont know,the Italian team is called that,for their azure blue jersey)
I am sick and tired of hearing paens sung for Brazil in Calcutta, and very happy at their exit.Everybody goes into raptures talking of them, as if the other teams are children of a lesser God!
But I will first tell you why I like the Italians so much.
The game of football can be won in two ways.One way is to score more goals-as the "godlike" Brazilians and most teams try to do.The other, and in my opinion,more subtle way is to concede fewer goals.The Italians,past masters at this,exempify the philosphy that defence is the best offence.
This philosophy of theirs,so different,is what I find most endearing.I always appreciate and like doing things in a way different from the rest.
While others find the sight of a striker tearing defences apart to be a spectacle,the sight of the impregnable Italian citadel,parrying thrust after thrust,and making the strikers look helpless,I find most appealing.
Moreover the way they go about their business,so low profile,without any airs is a refreshing sight today.Not like the hyped up mediocre English,the overly jingoistic Germans or the misplaced swagger and bluster of Brazil and Argentina.And yet they are one of the great footballing nations with 3 WCs.
My viewpoint extends to cricket as well.I have come to admire and appreciate Rahul Dravid more than Sachin or Sehwag.
It is thus no surprise that despite all his acheivements,Dravid continues to live in the shadow of his flamboyant counterparts.
Not many understand the importance of his grit,technical excellence and doggedness.Perhaps his sublime matchwinning innings on a spitfire pitch against the WI can change that,but I doubt it.One swashbuckling innings from one of the others and he will be forgotten,relegated to the footnotes,as always.
One more thing leaps to my mind-chess.
There are attacking masters like Alekhine,Tal and Kasparov whose brilliance is appreciated by the general public,me included.But there are those masters of positional play capablanca,Ruy Lopez,Steinitz whose names riddle the books of chess,about whom most dont know much.But I have come to know this much ,from my friends who play it well,that it is more difficult,for their style out maneouvres you and squeezes you for space on the board,simply by solid positional play-somewhat like getting throttled to death.
The point I want to make is that we Indians in general are awed more by flamboyance and flair than by efficiency and efficacy.We go for the glister rather than the gold-that is the only thing that can explain my observations.I am eagerly waiting for the backlash that my comments will surely generate:)
I am not finished with sports yet.But this will suffice for now,more later.

Charm and its cousins

2006-06-26T00:27:00.000-05:00

I have often wondered about that elusive and attractive quality called charm. It is known by different names-call it allure, or magnetism of personality or whatever. But I prefer the word charm and I shall try to differentiate between the various shades of meanings later.
To me charm is not beauty-far from it. I have known many beautiful girls and handsome boys who have beauty for sure, but don’t have charm. But let me first make the usual disclaimer that charm, like beauty lies in the eyes of the charmed.( So much for puns intended and PJs :) That is, all that I say is as far as I know, but then its only as far as I know :)
First thing, charm dwells in the face and speech. It depends on what you say and also how you say it. (By this I take the risk of pronouncing that you must be witty to be charming. This is necessary but not sufficient in my opinion:)
How you say it is what decides it. There are people who get away with things which when said by others would surely have been looked upon as stepping out of line, or being impolite. Which brings me to one more truth-charm is not about politeness, its more about insolence with a self deprecating air.
Being charming is about being mischievous, but never malicious. It lies in the warmth of your smile which is cheerful and lively, not cold and frosty as if it was pasted over your face. It lies in that genial look on your face which would suggest that you genuinely are interested in people. When you laugh,(at the joke and not the person), your eyes seeming to mirror your mirth and twinkle with your impish grin, then you are on your way to getting there:)
But not quite, being charming is all this and something else-some quality I just cannot define but which makes its presence felt by its absence:)-which suggests that I have failed to encapsulate in words, the idea of charm.
Allure and magnetism of personality for me are linked with power and position and are commonly associated with celebrities.
Charisma, another oft quoted word, I always thought referred to people who seem to be much more popular than their qualities warranted. It is used a lot with sportsmen, the kind of whom you would ask: “What’s so great about him? Why does he have so many fans?”
But charm is more about your friends and acquaintances, and your conversations with them.
Do I have it? I wonder……….. and hope so:)

The first post

2006-06-25T13:05:00.000-05:00

Finally, I enter the domain of blogs.I want to keep it as a record of my reflections and introspections rather than a dairy of events.Only time will tell how far I prove succesful in this regard.I will of course begin with my school,St Lawrence, in part because I went back there yesterday.
Whenever I enter ballygunje circular road,the thought of going back in never fails to fill me with anticipation and joy,even today,five years after passing out.It was no different yesterday going in with my freind and classmate.The years melted away as I saw hopeful madhaymik students begging Father for a seat in the HS,young monitors bringing in the attendance registers,and boys playing in the green fields.Ah!Those fields!when I lie on them and look up at the sky,I feel like I am in some alpine grassland.A walk around the grounds always settles my mind,it has that soothing quality.
Looking at the giant Tamarind tree,and the basketball court brought on a pang of nostalgia as it always does.There were two saplings which used to serve as stumps when I played,now they are full grown trees and sights of long forgotten cricket matches,hotly contested and bitterly fought, came back to me.It also made me wake up to the fact that I was so irritable and short tempered then.Time has certainly changed that.I met the teachers next.
Many have aged dramatically these years and it reinforced what I always thought-that the age scale is logarithmic.Being recognised and loved is such a nice feeling.After this I had samosas in the canteen and they still tasted the same,though they cost more:)Something unique to our school ,I always thought, was the respect accorded to everyone and our uniform.In no other school have I heard of a farewell for the gatekeeper or janitor on his retirement.Our uniform previously was steel grey shirt and navy blue trousers,and tucking in not allowed.This was bizarre but meant to drive the point home that clothes dont make a man.It also gave us a distinct identity and I never felt strange wearing that uniform or daring to be different.The school has degraded a lot these few years ever since they changed that uniform for a more conventional one worn by many run of the mill schools. But it still has the quality that makes us want to come back.The relations with teachers do not end on receiving the marksheet.I have never understood the attitude of some students who just wont accept that they have gained a lot from the school.But my school means so much to me,that is beyond words of expression.

Ending on a sad note I mention a friend of mine from NITT, Ishan Bajpai, who expired in such tragic circumstances last week.The notorious loud mouth of our batch, he brought us so much joy and it is cruel life that has cut him short.There was so much that he could have done in life and brought so much happiness to those around.Its a week now but I can still feel my eyes clouding and the salt in my mouth as I write this.Farewell, my friend, wherever you are,all I can say is my final YEH YEH YEH to you.People close to him will know what this means.....