The Ugly side

There is an ugly side to everything. It is the eternal balance of life. Good must be balanced by evil. Light by Darkness. Kindness by cruely. Love by hate. It's a very old idea , this balance one. The Zoroastrians liked it, so did the Tai Chi masters. It's not hard to find the ugly side. Everything has an ugly side. Look beyond the shiny silver wrapper and you will see the ugly side. The tastiest dish has an ugly side, the perfect hobby has an ugly side, the perfect relationship has an ugly side. Yes the clown cries too. Don't be so smug, you have an ugly side too. Don't need to look too far.

Crunchy

White washed surroundings. Cold air. Clear blue skies. Christmas decorations. Slushy road. White dusted cars. Whitened tree branches. People minding own business. Less people. Me walking to supermarket. Crunch crunch. Sound under my bootheels. Crunch crunch. Very bloggable. Crunch crunch. Crunch crunch......

White Dust

A late night movie was the culprit for me waking up pretty late this morning. I was feeling a bit guilty for having overstayed my visit to the bed. As I glanced outside the window, a strange sight awaited me. It looked as if there were lots of really big white dust particles flying around. Like what I would see if I were walking through a pillow making factory in full operation. For a second my brain became ultimately confused. You know, like when you see something for the first time in your life, you tend to relate it to something you have already seen in the past. As I ambled towards the window pretty excited, the garden outside that used to be green was covered with the same white dust. The rooftops were white. The white dust had settled on the cars outside. Truly, my first snowfall was delightfully confusing.

Opinionated people are happier

Why are opinionated people happier ?

please tell me.
Seeking your comments.

Updates

I am posting after many days now. I think the last sensible post I made was quite some time back. I really haven't had any time to browse over my blog. My first semester in grad school was quite an experience. A roller coaster ride. Ups and downs, the whole package. There are too many things that I want to talk about, so let me share a few.

I love my office space. Yes, my department has been kind enough to give me a nice office and some very comfortable chairs. The entire CS dept at CMU moved into the spanking new Gates building recently, and so far space has never been a problem. I have my own corner in campus and it is where I live most of the time. I guess the concept of having an office, where I can walk into anytime of the day or the night, has pampered me into a state of taking the office for granted. Frankly I can't imagine having to study at home or lounge about in the public spaces. I wouldnt have been able to do half my work were it not for my office. I love my office.

I came to terms with the fact that my body is a machine. If it gets food and rest, it works fine. The importance of free food in my life is immense. Most often, I dont get time or motivation to prepare an elaborate meal at home. Not surprisingly, eating habits have become very random, And also with the financial constraints that I am living under buying food is really a luxury. So free food, be it a pizza, mexican burritos and even the rare wraps is a great treat. Free food might seem very stereotypical of grad students, but it really is extremely important.

I managed to do some fun things this semester as well. Tried out my dancing abilities by learning some beginners ballroom dances such as Waltz, Quickstep, Swing and Cha-cha. Went swimming a few times. Learnt how to use gym facilities. Watched a few good movies, went to watch a theater performance, hung out with friends, partied infinitely, tried different kinds of beer, had the best birthday ever and jumped off a plane with a parachute.

But most of all, the grad school experience has been very fulfilling so far. It's not like everything has been rosy. There were some initial hurdels, some culture adjustments and some 'learning to play hardball'. But the classes are mindblowingly brilliant. I love going to Statistics class. I love listening to every word that Larry has to say and I love reading the notes that he gives out. It's like everything that he says is logically connected. There are no gaps in meaning and purpose. It's a new feeling, really, to be able to exercise your mind and solve challenging problems.

All in all, it's been good and it's been bad. But one thing is for sure, I haven't been bored.

PGR

PGR stands for "Pretty Good Race". It's for all the CS nerds at CMU. So once a year, some of them stop staring at the screen and head out on a wooded trail along the hills called the Schenley trail to run for a distance of 5km. I was there this year and my oh my was it fun..! It started with excitement, then anxiety, then questioning, then despair, then encouragement, then numbness, then longing, numbness again, then adrenaline and finally unparalleled JOY..!

At the end of this adventure, there lay awaiting us some delicious water watermelons. Yes we Mellonites like melons..!Awesome experience..!

Mining for Knowledge

'Knowledge mining' is a concept taught to computer science students about how to look for interesting patterns and structures in otherwise meaningless and large collection of data. The word 'mining' in 'knowledge mining' struck me as rather interesting. So much so that I stopped to ponder about its implications. Mining is usually associated with valuable stuff such as precious metals and stones, ores, etc. So it got me thinking, " My God..! Knowledge must be really valuable". My mind started wandering and as usual I started to form connections between hypothesis A and observation B until I was pretty sure that I had a theory C.

I won't go into this theory C for it is rather personal to me ( yes so personal that I won't post it on the blog ). However, I am glad to talk about a related topic that is of interest to me.

The topic is about what sort of jobs people like to do. I liked Nassim Nicholas Taleb's definition( He is the author of 'fooled by randomness' and 'black swan', if you haven't read it, I suggest it ). He created a dichotomy of all jobs that are out there. He labeled jobs as 'scalable' and 'non scalable'. Scalable jobs are those that give you a disproportionate amount of reward compared to the number of hours of work you do. Such as that of an artist who makes it big, a wall street trader, a politician, a drug lord, etc. These jobs are often associated with lots of glamor as there is often a chance to make it big really quick. A certain lottery, casino, gambling like factor.

On the other hand non scalable jobs give you the payback that you deserve based on the number of hours you put in and what your skill set is. The skill set is often acquired through a number of hours of hard work. These people are dentists, engineers, teachers, plumbers and even police officers. These jobs are mundane. Boring. Hardly worth bragging about. I am sure that the people doing these kind of jobs have at some point of time had doubts about their profession and often wished they were on the other side. However, Nassim advices people to take a job that is non scalable. He believes that a job where you get paid for the amount of knowledge you possess and the amount of work you put in, is a desirable job. Life is no longer indeterminant. You are the captain of your life, the cartographer of your destiny.

I agree with Nassim.

The Fence and Independence Day

As far as traditions go, Carnegie Mellon has many and we got to take part, first hand in one of it's most fun traditions. The tradition is called 'The Fence'. It is nothing but a fence in the middle of campus that people keep painting randomly during the night as a sign of protest or just to make a point.

On Independence day, we said seized the opportunity to repaint the fence with the tricolor. And guess what, Fun and Patriotism can come packaged together too..!

Bubble Theory

It's been some time since I wanted to propose this theory of mine.

It's often shocked me how some people often live inside a bubble all their life. The bubble effectively seals them from the realities of the outside world. Like a fish in a bowl. Imagine yourself as a pretty gold fish swimming inside a nice spherical bowl, and you are swimming, swimming and basically that's all you are doing. From time to time you peer outside and the world appears fuzzy to you. Everything is distorted and the green algae forming on the walls is making your vision cloudy. But you don't care, in fact that's how you want it. The fish bowl is your world, nothing exists outside it and frankly you don't care. Food is plopped into your bowl, it's good, life goes on. You get bored sometimes, so you go and bully the guppies a bit. You are careful not to antagonize the resident fighter fish. Yes, life goes on. It's not great, but it is your world and you're in perfect control of it.

That's it the goldfish example ends, there's not going to be some dramatic ending to it.

The point I am trying to make here is that people willingly construct these glass bubbles. The fish doesn't have a choice but we do. We build glass bubbles all the time. Everyone does it to a greater or lesser extent. Some build glass bubbles, others soap bubbles. No one can be excluded. There is one fundamental problem with bubbles. They don't let stuff inside. Change is painful. The fairy tale world does not wish to be disturbed. The smaller the bubble the better. The more stuff that comes inside, makes the bubble grow bigger and your world gets more difficult to understand and control. So the doctrine is to keep your bubble small and strong, preferably made of glass.

What sort of people make small glass bubbles ? and who are the people who tend towards the larger permeable soap bubbles ?
I do have an answer for this. And my answer is that the people who don't feel threatened have softer larger bubbles. And those in the quest of a larger meaning , those who are trying to find the unity amongst all things, like how the sages of my country did on top of the himalayas, they are in the pursuit of making the bubble vanish all together. They are searching for the ultimate truth, the one that makes you see the universe as it is.

I would like to do that sometime.

New blogs

Well a lot has happened in my life in the last few days and even in the last few months. Lots of bloggable material actually. But, somehow didn't feel like penning it down. It is nice to describe the world at it is and I have done it several times in the past. It makes for pleasant blogging. Blogging about incidents, about cultures, place and food. Descriptive and at the same time biased by opinion, my opinion.

What has caught my fascination off late are thoughts that come from within. Thoughts that I think, while I'm idle. No doubt influenced by things I read, hear or discuss with others. They are thoughts that have their seed and genesis deep within me. So expect more of my ruminations in the next few set of blogs.

Perfect Strangers

There is something absolutely amazing about a chance encounter with someone about whom you have no idea. No telephone numbers, no names exchanged. Conversations tend to flow freely and you find yourself wandering into territories that you would not venture into with even with someone close to you. Jokes are cracked, politicians are criticized, anecdotes are exchanged and even a local tip or two are shared. There is no pressure of tomorrow. And then, just as casually the conversation ends, you part ways, say your goodbyes and life goes on.

The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Of crises

As far as uneasy feelings go, this is a new one for me. I first recognised it when I was sitting in a bus and I had nothing to do. Usually, I have a book for company but I forgot to carry one this time. My calm and peace were getting increasingly disturbed and after some time there was none. I needed to do something real bad. That something need not have been towards a productive pursuit, I might as well have browsed through the latest edition of Stardust magazine.

That's when I realised that I can't be content just sitting by myself. The full impact of this revelation about my persona took some time to adjust to. I wasn't always like this. There were many winter afternoons in Delhi, when I could just sit in the verandah doing nothing and be perfectly calm. That's what got me thinking, why is it so ? Maybe it's the education ? Maybe it's the media ? Perhaps it's the modern civilization ? perhaps it's the effect of my peer ? ..... and on and on, I kept thinking about all the possibilities, exercising my mind about why I can't sit quietly and think. Why is it so difficult to just wait ? .... and Hola, guess what, my destination arrived and I obliviously returned to my ways of doing stuff. It was only when I got some spare time again, and I started feeling uncomfortable again, that I got reminded of my thought exercise and decided to pen this blog.

Corrupt officials vs unscrupulous gentry

Seems like all my posts of late have been to do with blaming someone. Either the bureaucracy, the people, something or the other. So here's one more post on the same flavor.

It's very difficult to book a train ticket nowadays. Unless you know well in advance ( ~ 2months ) about your exact plans, don't expect to make a comfortable journey. Well, I suffered the same fate and did not get an AC ticket. I'm not trying to sound super borgeois here. Indian summers are really tough otherwise. But, I did get a reserved ticket and that was good fate enough. So, the train rattled on through the great Deccan plateau towards the port city of Chennai. I was getting cooked, as if on a slow spit, such is life. I was just about dozing off when I heard some commotion. There was an angry quarrel between some passengers and the railway ticket officials ( called TTs).

There were about four of these troublemakers versus three TTs dressed in their official garb. What followed was a tirade of abuses, shouting, shoving and finally the ringleader of the troublemakers threatened to pull the 'emergency stop chain'. Meanwhile a crowd of sorts (including me) had accumulated and were looking on intently at the proceedings, never passing a chance to have some free entertainment. Just as we thought there was going to be some real action, the argument ended and both parties proceeded to amicably utter platitudes about cooperation, compromise and the Indian favourite, 'Adjust'. I was pretty surprised at the turn of events. I didn't expected the TTs who are supposed to be the upholders of all that is true and fair in the world of trains to buckle down like that. After all, those four goons were illegal freeloaders who had gotten on the train without reservations.

Luckily, I was rescued from my growing perplexity by a co passenger. The deal was this. The TTs were corrupt and these four members of the public had no scruples. The TTs had apparently had taken bribes and these guys had gotten on without reservations. The lesson was that the guilty protecteth the guilty. that is another one of my negative stories blaming someone. and ya Jai Hind..!

My name UNKNOWN (Part 2 )

This is a followup blog from my previous blog titled 'My name UNKNOWN (Part 1)'

So after a lot of panicking and fretting about, I had decided to go down to the Trichy passport office to get my passport amended. My search on the internet revealed to me that there were a plethora of options to get it done and each one more different than the other. It seemed like nobody knew what the system was, or rather each one had their own interpretation of what the system ought to be.

So, I rejoiced. I hoped that lady luck would smile upon me. And ....... I was wrong.

The Trichy passport office people had their own version of doing things. Totally different from the rest of India and not surprisingly the most screwed up as well. They basically commanded me to apply for a new passport, complete with reams of documents and making my pocket about Rs 3 Grand lighter. I essentially felt helpless. It seemed like Trichy was under the regime of some psycho monarch, who somehow did not believe that his domain came under the jurisdiction of the Republic of India.

And I had to oblige. After lots of running around. Getting tonnes of xeroxes, signatures from profs, affidavits from lawyers, talking to old people, I was ready and armed.

I headed down to the passport office, early in the morning, stood in the line, did everything they asked me to, and a couple of hours later, I was out. Sans my old passport but with a receipt that guaranteed a new passport with the correct details. And my my, the new passport arrived in the mail in just two days...!!!! ( :D :D :D )

Honestly, tears came to my eyes, when I held the beauty in my eyes. However unnerving the entire experience was, holding the new passport in my hands was totally worth it. Jai Ho...!!!

Senti Blog

Disclaimer : This is a senti blog. Be advised.

How long I have waited for this day to arrive. Now that it has arrived, somehow the sheen seems to have worn off. I wish I could feel otherwise but the truth is that I don't want to leave. I wish the end were somehow delayed.

I never thought that I would end up feeling this way. It's not that I am all steel inside. I am susceptible to the emotions of separation too. But, for NITT, never thought it would happen. Having spent the major part thinking of my undergraduate life as a passing phase, planning for the next better part, I thought leaving this place would be a breeze. That clearly wasn't the case. I'm surprised, that I couldn't see in plain view, how much of an impact these four years have had on me.

I learnt what true friends look like. I learnt that ragging is not such a big deal. I learnt how to keep my chin down. I saw extreme brilliance, total dedication, complete madness and true passion. I met people from all walks of life. I realised that it was OK to have an opinion. I realised that there will always be some people won't like you (god bless them) and there will be those who you can count on no matter what. I came a wide eyed boy and left slightly wiser.

I have no hesitation in proclaiming this an end of an era. Truly the end of an era. Everything will be so much different from now on. I have a PAN card, I am liable to be taxed. "You are an adult now", that's the message screamed at you from a million directions. Ya, I know it's all a part of growing up. And some of you oldies, who have been there done that, will be probably be quietly smiling to yourselves and thinking, "there goes another guy, getting all senti".

Well this is me. All senti.

My name UNKNOWN ( Part 1 )

As is the case with many young folk in the subcontinent, I have been smitten by the desire to 'study some more'. And as is the case with most young folk, I have decided to 'study some more' in the US. Well all was seemingly going on the right track, when one day I received an email from the university I will be heading to. Apparently following the guidelines of the US department of homeland security, they thought that there was something wrong with my name.

There was certainly no 'Mohammed' nor any 'Singh' in my name. So I was evidently surprised. At first, my surprise turned into laughter. Seriously, I thought it was very funny. The thing is this:

My name is 'Subhodeep Moitra'.
First name 'Subhodeep'
Surname 'Moitra'.

The problem is in my passport. Due to some historical 'F***ups' and some quirks in the thought process of south Indian passport officials , my surname field is blank in my passport and my whole name 'Subhodeep Moitra' is entered in the given name column. This is absolutely unacceptable to the protocol driven folk in the US. Not having a surname is a mortal sin. I was all ready to brush it aside as a trivial issue when I thought I should talk to the univ people. What transpired in that five minute conversation shook my establishment and destroyed my peace and feeling of well being for the next few weeks.

They told me that I basically had two options.
1. Amend the name in my passport.
2. Go ahead with no surname and face the consequences.

Both options were actually no options

1. Amending the passport was an impossibility. My previous experience(2 years ago) with the Indian passport office at Trichy had left me so bitter that I had sworn never to step back into that dungeon.

2. Not doing anything about my name was even more sucky. I could go ahead and apply for my visa but the US embassy guys would do something really clever. They would shift my entire name 'Subhodeep Moitra' into the surname column and put a FNU (First name unknown) stamp on my visa. And since the passport and the visa are the only two documents that the folk in the US recognize, I would be known as 'Mr FNU Subhodeep Moitra' for the rest of my life. And the best part is that all this name correction business could not be done in the US. Once you landed there, you would be FNU.

Imagine, my predicament. I was seriously nursing the idea of being FNU. Imagine what my friends would say, "Hey meet my best buddy, his name is UNKNOWN". And at other more personal moments, if I scream "say my name, say my name..!", an "FNU..!" would certainly dampen the proceedings. Certainly not a rosy prospect. Plus there are other more serious issues as well that cannot be compromised with, such as refusing to be granted a SSN (Social security number), driving licence, etc.

So after much delibration, lots of googling and going through edu forums I decided to go in for name correction.

More on my experiences at the Trichy passport office in the next blog titled 'My name UNKNOWN ( Part 2 )

Tales from the General Compartment

So it happened. I no longer retain my general compartment virginity. Didn't plan for it to end up this way, but nevertheless one can't control such things. I blame my impulsive decision making for my current predicament. However, I won't deny that I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My primary assumption was that the ride at worst would be something like a Bombay local. I was way off the mark. Nowhere close to it. Here's why :

1. average travel time in a Bombay local is 25 mins
2. People don't need to pee in a bombay local
3. People don't use your leg as a pillow in a bombay local
4. You don't have to try to sleep while standing in a bombay local

I even had the honor of climbing up on the luggage racks and sitting there with my head bent down in deference to the cramped quarters. The rather smelly semi-hindi speaking guy who was kind enough to grant me this opportunity did this for no altruistic reasons. It was a fair trade, and that's all. He needed to get down and the only way he could do this was if I clambered up like a monkey. And after a fair bit of gymnastics, the deal was sealed.

I like to leave a bit of gyaan when I conclude my blogs. So here comes this capsule of worldly wisdom. "Don't get on a general compartment. And thank god like hell for being born into a rich family"

P.S. By rich, I assume that you are rich enough to have gone to good enough schools to read and understand this blog. And ya, don't flatter yourself too much.

Bon Apetit

My good friend, Robert Pertham was rather restless. His looks defined the quintessential uneasy person. Not that he was uneasy to talk with or have at a party, he was just very restless. He was a small chubby man, with oodles of energy. In fact, I remember the day when Robert, I and some other friends had gone on a hiking trip. Towards the end of the trip, we could barely walk. Our strength was flagging. It was in these occasions that Robert would walk ahead of all of us, sing boisterously, and goad us on to the end. It was perhaps for this quality that almost everyone loved him and I hated him. He would make himself available on every occasion. It was like he was omnipresent. How he managed to do this was a mystery. His wife had left him with the kids a long time back. She said that she just couldn't stand him shuffling around any more. Poor lady, I sympathize with her. He was quite a lovable person if you could ignore his constant darting eyes. The way he bit his nails. The 'Tap tap' noise he made with his feet. In any case, he was a good man but a rather restless one.

I refer to Robert in the past tense for a reason. It is because I killed him today. It wasn't a premeditated act. It just happened. I had replayed his death in a million different ways in my head, but in that moment, I knew what had to be done. He is gone now. Gone for good. Maybe the next time you eat a beef steak, you might get to meet him. Bon Apetit.