I, Spectra

Ismael, the hawker

2011-12-04T18:30:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you the story of Ismael, the hawker. Ismael was born in a village near the Van region of Turkey. Van is in the eastern edge of Turkey and home to the gorgeous lake Van. Despite its beauty Van's claim to fame is due to another reason, albeit a tragic one. Van is notorious for earthquakes that levels its towns and cities. The region cannot boast of the wealth of the Istanbul and its people often have to make do with very little. It was in these trying conditions that Ismael was born into. Like most young men with big dreams, Ismael headed out west to Istanbul. The years passed but Ismael's dreams did not materialize. To be rich you must either be a crook or a king and sometimes both. His initial frustration gradually settled into tacit acceptance.

Today, Ismael roams the ferry stations of Istanbul hawking fare cards. Several thousands of people use the ferries everyday to cross the Strait of Bosphorus, traveling between Asia and Europe to get to work everyday. The busier ones amongst these worker bees are Ismael's customers. They don't have time to stand in line at the ticketing queues. Perhaps, I looked like one. Ismael approached me, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Istanbulkarte..! Istanbulkarte..!". I politely declined. He noticed the bag of mandarin oranges in my hands. He then coolly reached into my bag of oranges, took out an orange, looked at me, nodded his head and walked away shouting "Istanbulkarte..! Istanbulkarte..!". I was more amused than flustered. Individuality and "minding-my-own-business" had so far been a critical part of my western education. Unfortunately, Ismael didn't think too much of it.

He hadn't gone very far. He was trying to sell his wares to a woman who looked quite overburdened. An infant in one hand and a bag of groceries in another. She could do with some help but couldn't afford Ismael's prices. Again, Ismael took matters into his own hands. He took her money, walked to the head of the ticketing queue and pleaded with the officer at the counter. He motioned animatedly in her direction and explained her plight. Eventually, he returned with a fare card for her. On he went shouting "Istanbulkarte..! Istanbulkarte..!". Ismael had carved out for himself a sense of justice and fairness. In his world, pilfering oranges and helping women in distress were both the right thing to do. I can just imagine, Ismael as a proud knight in the medevial ages, swinging his sword in glorious battle.

Mind-Body separation for dummies

2011-11-22T23:58:00.000-08:00

In this tutorial we will cover -
1. Why mind-body separation ?
2. How mind-body separation ?
3. How to enjoy mind-body separation state ?

Why mind-body separation ?
Your mind is a wondrous thing. It is the seat of consciousness. It is so abstract and so completely integrated with our concept of self that we take it for granted. Wouldn't it be a wonderful experience to step back and perceive your mind as a separate entity ? One that is disjoint from your body ? If life is about seeking interesting experiences then this is one of the gems.

How mind-body separation ?
There are a variety of methods. Meditation, psychotropic drugs and alcohol are popular choices. There are a variety of meditation styles and techniques. None of which I am qualified to talk about, hence I will safely skip meditation as a mind-body separating instrument. Mind altering drugs are certainly effective but are limited by accessibility and may have undesirable side-effects. Alcohol is probably the best bet in achieving some form of mind-body separation. It is also the method that most audiences can relate to. That heady feeling, the numbness in your limbs all go into pointing you in the right direction. But it also makes some people rather boisterous and annoying. Which takes the focus away from the goal of enjoying the state of mind-body separation.

Instead, I will elaborate upon the method that I do have some experience with - Running. I have replicated some of the same results with swimming and biking as well. I believe that they translate across most categories of endurance sports.

In your first few attempts it might be better to try this indoors on a treadmill as there tend to be lesser distractions. Work up a sweat with a comfortable running pace. Hold this pace for a while till your body begins to feel fatigued. Your legs will begin to feel heavy and your breathing will become labored. Something around 20-30 mins ballpark. If you have a heart-rate monitor it should be around 150 bpm. Now pick up the pace such that you are huffing and puffing. Your heart rate monitor should now show something around 165 bpm. This is tough, hang in there. Bust out another 10 mins. Overcome the urge to stop or slow down. Now, summon your strong. Pick up the pace another notch and hang in there for the next 15 mins. Your heart rate will climb further probably crossing the 170 mark. Your body will now beg to stop. It will scream and shout at you for mercy. But your mind will not allow it. In fact your mind and your body are now at odds with each other. Your body will do what your mind tells it. You have now achieved mind-body separation.

How to enjoy and explore this feeling ?
It's an amazing feeling. Focus on how tenuous the thread connecting your mind and body is. All that you had taken for granted as your notion of self, is actually not. Ponder the following questions - Are you your body ? Are you your mind ? Who are you ?

People you meet

2011-11-19T11:34:00.000-08:00

It's amazing the kind of interesting people you meet randomly. This morning I was on the bus to Seattle. I usually keep to myself but my ears perked when I heard someone ask "how many different combinations can you get from a byte?". It was a dad posing this to what looked like a 10 year old kid. The kid then cocked his head to the sky and responded in a tone like his whole life pride depended on solving this puzzle." Ummm there are 8 bits in a byte. And each bit can take 2 values. So that's two times two times two ...eight times" . I was so impressed. I had to examine closely. The dad had in his hand a book called "the algorithm design manual by Skiena". This happened to be one of my favorite books. I could hold myself no longer. I had to make small talk. "Is that a skiena?" , I interjected, perhaps a little too abruptly. "What's that ?" came the reply. I then proceeded to explain how the book he was holding in his hand was one of the best. He nodded in agreement. I also ventured to ask if his son was interested in computers. His dad then said "We're on our way to the University of Washington for my son's math lessons. He is taking classes on Topology for 5th graders". My jaw half dropped. All that came out of my mouth was "That's very impressive!".

Their stop came and they got off. I was still in awe of that child who was sure to become one of the greatest minds of our age. Meanwhile, I hadn't noticed the scraggy looking man sitting on the seat beside me. He then turned to me and said, "So you said you work on search engines?". This man looked like he had just returned from an arctic expedition. He had matted hair, a weathered face and his jeans were torn at places. My mind was already unconsciously trying to guess what he did for a living and how much of computers he actually knew. Was he a crazy hacker ? a hippie with an interest in computers? a madman ? Anyway, I replied in the affirmative. He then said very proudly - "You know, I wrote a search engine in HTML". Wait, what ? HTML ? That doesn't sound right. I then proceeded to voice these concerns to him. "Well, you know it's not perfect, it uses name refs and the program has around Ten thousand lines of code". That did not at all sound like a search engine. I settled on the madman theory as his chosen profession. He wouldn't stop talking about how his program could look up information about herbs and plants. I thought it was time to ask him if he had heard of PHP and MySQL. He listened, nodded and replied, almost apologetically " I thought I would learn about HTML by making this search engine. I also learned about C++ and linux. I started learning programming about a year ago". I thought I didnt't hear him right. Did he say a year ago ? "And what did you do before that ?". "I was a construction worker. Still am". He then turned to his side and took out his hard hat and ear muffs to show me as proof. Again my jaw half dropped, and all I could bring myself to say was "That's very impressive!".

Coyote Ugly

2011-10-10T11:22:00.000-07:00

This morning was a typical morning in this part of the world. Cold, dark and rainy. The moisture and I have come to terms with each other. In fact, there is a special kind of attachment I have to some rainy and gloomy cities. For e.g. I love Paris in the rain, I love Pittsburgh in the rain and I do love Seattle in the rain. Ofcourse, I would prefer it to be sunny and the air to be crisp. But there is a special beauty in rain. The weekend was mostly spent sedentarily and I was itching to get out and about. So, I did what I can do. I strapped on my shoes and ran right past the bus stop. Today I was going to run to work.

I have been wanting to explore some new routes for a while. There is one "Bridle trail" that lies on the route to work. The trails in Washington are a little different from the ones in Pennsylvania in my opinion. The western Washington region gets significant rain and so there are lot more tall looming trees. Trees such as Pines, Firs, Cedars, Junipers, Birches and Cottonwoods spread throughout the region. This usually ends up providing a much denser forest cover. The Bridle trail goes right through one of these forest covers. It's a wide trail, wide enough for a horses and perhaps even a jeep to come through. I was happily ploughing down the trail, enjoying the crunch crunch noise my feet were making against the ground. Up ahead in the trail, I caught a glimpse of something moving.

It was just a dog. But something didn't seem very cute doggylike about it. There was no human in sight nor did it have a collar. It had a huge fluffy tail and looked more like a fox or a wolf. But it didn't seem large enough for a wolf. In all probability it was a Coyote. Meanwhile, I was still running towards that creature, whatever it was. It saw me coming and snuck into the bushes. At this point I could do an about turn and run right back. But I just kept going straight ahead. I honestly did not know how to respond to this situation. I had never ever imagined a scenario wherein I would run into a Coyote while on a trail run. So, I kept running ahead. I rationalized in my head, with what I knew about Coyotes. They were pack hunting K9s, that usually attacked other smaller dogs, chicken and sometimes human babies. I was too big a prey for it. Also, I knew that animals are excellent in sensing fear and hesitation. If I stopped, I would be basically be waving fear with a big red flag. So, I kept running towards it. Mostly out of indecision. Part of me wanting to get the hell out of there and the other part being courageous.

I came to where it was and I could see it now. Lurking in the bushes. I looked into its eyes, and it looked back. There was nothing cute about this doggy. It was a wild hunting animal with a cold gleam in its eyes. I ran past it as my heart skipped several beats. I kept looking over my shoulder, imagining that it would come chasing right after me. But he was in no mood for that. He sauntered across the trail, probably trying to get shelter from the rain. And I ran right ahead going Beep Beep..! This road runner had just given the Coyote a slip.

Nature, Mountains and Near Death (Part 1)

2011-09-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

This blogpost is the first in a four part series about one of my adventures in the mountains in Washington State. You can read the next article in the series here -

Dear Reader, It has been a while since I have written a blogpost. Quite a few incidents have happened in my life since. Many of them make interesting stories. However there is one particular story that is a delight to both tell and listen to. What makes this story exciting for me personally is that I was in the thick of it. Some may find this story exciting and adventurous. While others may think it disturbing and immature. Whatever it is that you feel, I kindly request you to reserve judgement till the end. There are four parts to this series and each deals with a different frame of mind. You will find that I have been liberal in throwing in my personal thoughts and opinions from time to time. I request you to be patient with the prose and read through till the end. I have tried to be as factually accurate as possible while doing justice to the writer's pen. I make no tall claims when I say that this story has changed my life. I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed telling it.

I presently live in the beautiful city of Seattle which is in Washington state. During the weekdays I intern in a big corporation while in the weekends I head out to explore the wonders of this beautiful region. Being situated on the pacific coast and receiving ample rain makes it green all year round. Tall Cedars and Douglas Firs greet you as you step into the woods. Outdoor activities are very popular in this region, demonstrated by the existence of three REI outlets in Seattle alone. Keeping up with this fervor, I head out to the mountains every weekend for small day hikes. I am part of various mailing lists that send callouts for meeting up to make these trips. One Tuesday, I was delightfully pleased when I saw a new hike announced for the coming weekend. It was sent by a certain Viktor, who I presumed was the hike leader. I pounced on this hike callout as I skimmed its contents. You see, In my mind I usually categorize hikes to be easy or too difficult. The easy ones are the ones I end up going since the difficult ones are out of reach. The difficult ones usually involve multiple days of hiking and traversing snow covered peaks. This level of hiking needs special equipment which I do not possess given my limited student budget. Anyway, the particular hike that Viktor announced did not match either category. This got me excited as it provided me with a chance to level up my hiking abilities.

This is the email that Viktor sent :

*DESCRIPTION*: This hike is for people who genuinely think that doing Enchantments traverse in more than one day means wasting way too much time. Do you fit that description? Are you fit enough to do up to 30 miles and 7000 feet elevation gain in a day? Than this extreme one day hike to see the most of the prettiest lakes of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness is for you. We will start at West Foss River trail, traverse through Tank Lakes and return back via Necklace Valley. To make things interesting about 8 miles of this route has no established trail and will require some bushwhacking and even more scrambling.

*DISTANCE:* 22-30 miles

*ELEVATION GAIN:* 6000-7000 feet

*TIME NEEDED:* Full day Saturday

*RATING:* EXTREME

*MEETING TIME AND LOCATION:* 4:15 am sharp in Kirkland (exact location will only be revealed to people who sign up).

*LATEST RETURN TIME:* Late on Saturday or more likely early Sunday.

*MAXIMUM # HIKERS: 4 (counted as the number of legs divided by 2)

*BRING:*

- Food and water

- Waterproof clothes

- Headlamp

- FSR radio if you have one

- Trekking poles and gaiters

- Route finding skills and all your luck

*STRICT SIGN-UP DEADLINE:* Friday 5 pm.

On the face of it, it looked pretty challenging. However this the was sort of challenge that I was aching for. Previously in the summer I had completed a trail run in Pittsburgh for 35 miles with 15000 feet of elevation change. In comparison the distance here was lesser (30 miles) with much less elevation change (7000 ft). Also, I was pretty sure that 7000 ft of elevation change in 30 miles would mean that it would be pretty flat throughout. We would surely not hit snow. This was stuff I had done before, I had it in the bag. Nevertheless, what made this endeavor challenging was that part of it would be at night and there would be uncharted territory involved. I reasoned to myself that with a big group it would be a lot of fun. Like going for boy scouts. So, I rationalized to myself, that it couldn't be that bad and then hastily signed up for it. In hindsight, I was way off the mark. Both Viktor and I could never have anticipated the trials and tribulations that would await us.

During the week I had some email exchanges with Viktor. I was trying to see if I could avoid the trekking poles. The few times I had tried poles I had found them to be more of a hindrance. I got the rest of the gear ready, purchased headlamps and gaiters. Headlamps were certainly a necessity since we were going to be night hiking. Gaiters are things that keep dirt and snow out of your shoe. I was sure that I wouldn't need it since we were not going to see snow. But I got one anyway, for future hikes. Meanwhile, Viktor had news for me as well. There would be no large party joining us for the hike. Just Viktor, his friend and I. Somehow I had missed the part in the email which said that max 4 people for the hike. Friday night came and incidentally it was Oktoberfest in Seattle. There was no way, I was not going to pass up the chance. So a friend and I headed over to check it out. It was everything that you can expect from Oktoberfest. Smell of Bratwurst in the air and drunken dudes getting loud and happy. The atmosphere was great though. The feeling of good times was palpable. Were it not for the fact that I was the designated driver, I would have indulged in a lot of good beer. Nevertheless, I returned home around midnight. I had almost forgotten about the hike, until I found my empty rucksack staring at me. I stared back at it for a while as well, regretting that I had signed up for the hike the next day. Eventually, I willed myself to pack it.

My hiking bag and shoes

I found myself standing outside Viktor's house at 4:00 AM. Somehow, I had managed to drag myself there. It was dark and the air was chilly. I caught myself shivering. I was wondering if I was at the right place. I tried Viktor's number a few times but to no avail. Finally, Viktor made an appearance. He was leaner than I had expected. He had a thick accent, which I suspected was of slavic origin. He eventually turned out to be Ukrainian. He wasted no time in explaining to me the plan for the day. We would take 2 cars. The beginning and the end of the hike were in different locations. We would park one car in each location. Soon, his friend joined us. Her name was Tatiana. She was short in stature and did not seem very chatty. Without much ado, we were on the road with me following their tail lights. Driving on freeways can be rather monotonous and I found my thoughts wandering. I was excited about what the day had in store for us. I also had this anxious feeling of oncoming adventure. Much like I have before any long voyage or a major exam. The drive was almost an hour and a half long. It was still dark when we reached the trailhead.

As I stepped out of the car, I was jolted by the cold air. The air was much chillier in the mountains. I was just in t-shirt and shorts, my traditional hiking attire. One of the unfortunate habits that I carried over from trail running. It wasn't long before we were ready to get going. The sky had started to turn grey, indicating that the sun was making its way up to the horizon. At around 6 AM, we embarked on our legendary quest to hike 30 miles of trails and mountains in one day. At this point I thought it opportune to ask Viktor, how many times he had done this route before ? The reply was terse. "No", he said. I took this admission in stride. Ooh..! We're going on a little adventure. The trail was well maintained and we didn't have much difficulty following it. It was mostly uphill but the grade was easily manageable. It started getting brighter and we were able to see our first views of the formidable mountains. As the first rays of the sun fell on the mountains, I couldn't help but admire their beauty. Rich with life and greenery in the lower rungs, yet rugged and austere as you go higher up.

We were now treading at a brisk pace. This was helping in warming me up. I think a drop of sweat might even have formed on my furrow. The trail was reasonably well defined. As I settled down into a steady rhythm, I felt the tenseness of the morning beginning to dissipate. I started getting comfortable. In fact too comfortable. I even got cocky enough to think that hiking was getting boring. I needed a real challenge. As if reading my mind, Viktor started talking about bears. That these forests were bear country had not crossed my mind. He mentioned an incident of how he had encountered a big black bear and some cubs while hiking some mountains in this region. Fortunately, my senses soon got the better of me. I reminded myself that the day would be really long and that there would be some night hiking involved. We might even run into the occasional bear.

Thinking these thoughts, I caught glimpse of our first lake through a crack in the woods. Tatiana who had been reasonably quiet all this while, decided that she wanted to go off-trail. Her plan was to walk on a stream that lead to the lake and then meet us at the lake. I was amazed at her guts. This was my first indication that she was a very experienced and a courageous hiker. I would be very hesitant before trying to blaze my own trail. In my mind, I was analogous to a train and the trail was my track. Straying off the trail was akin to my train getting derailed. We came out into a clearing and I got a truly breathtaking view of the lake.

A view of the lake

This lake was just one amongst the many lakes that we would come across during the course of the day. Yet this one was the first and the most memorable. I still remember how sun shone golden on the cliffs, while the lake emanated an azure blue. Back on trail, Viktor proved to be very knowledgeable about local flora and fauna. He was practically a walking wilderness survival manual. He talked with great panache about the delicacy of mountain berries. He even got me to overcome my fear of eating berries growing on random bushes. We sampled black berries, blue-berries and salmon berries. I even learned some berry trivia. Salmon berries are called so because of their color which looks like the skin of salmon fishes. Salmon berries like mulberries and black berries happen to belong to class of berries called compound berries. These berries are composed of a number of smaller berries. All compound berries have the wonderful property of being non-poisonous. After talking about berries, Viktor moved onto mushrooms. He even picked a badass looking mushroom growing off a tree to make mushroom soup when he went home. I asked him how does one if a mushroom is poisonous. His reply was again terse and proved to me that he was crazy beyond doubt. He said "You eat and wait". He even pointed out the most poisonous plant in North America. The infamous "Hellebore", which at that sounded like "Hell Boar". A very apt name, I must say.

A salmon berry

Viktor was full of interesting anecdotes and trivia and the time passed quickly. The sun had climbed higher in the sky by now. Everything around us looked gorgeous. We came across a rocky ledge that overlooked a gigantic lake. Tatiana was in a joyous mood and insisted that we park on that ledge for lunch. While the view was splendid, it still was a precarious rock perched on a cliff. I was unsure of my footing and was initially very cautious. As picking lunch spots with a view go, we totally nailed it. Hungry from all the hiking so far, I devoured my sandwiches. The thought of conserving food for the rest of the day did not even once cross my mind.

Unsure of my footing at our lunch spot

By now we were fairly high up in the mountains. The snow covered peaks which had so far loomed in the distance were now much closer. Trekking on further we reached an alpine lake. I call it alpine because it had snow on its sides. Viktor decreed that we would stop here to refill our bottles. He drew his portable water filter and got pumping. I had two 1L water bottles on me. I had been sparing in my water consumption as it had been a pleasant hike so far. I had used up only one bottle. Viktor insisted that I fill it up and thank goodness I did. I sat there by the side of the lake with a supreme sense of calm while the sun warmed my shoulders. I think I might have even removed my shoes to waddle my feet in the icy water. I can't believe that I was so oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that this would be our last moment of peace on this hike.

We continued up the mountain, and we encountered more forest and lakes. Tatiana asked if she could go swimming in one of the lakes. I could make out that Viktor was a little concerned about our progress. He diplomatically answered that we could go swimming in jade lake if we made it in time. Both Tatiana and I were more than satisfied with this answer and I think we even picked up our pace. Little did we know jade lake was eons away. Soon, the trail abruptly ended. We had entered the bushwhacking phase of our journey. Bushwhacking basically means there exists no road or path. On your map you may think that tour destination is around the corner, but in reality there might be a cliff there. It needed a lot of creativity and improvization to find your way. All now depended on Viktor and his GPS device. There were little stacks of rocks left here and there. A sign that a humans had been there before.

We trampled through bushes and hedges, across boulder fields and even skirted a few lakes. It all seemed fun. My sense of adventure was back. Higher and higher we climbed. The trees thinned out and it all soon became rocks. We got spectacular views of the lakes we had seen before. I was nimble on the rocks. All my previous running had helped build up strong legs and solid aerobic breathing. I clambered from rock to rock. Thinking that if this was bushwhacking, I was really killing it. Until we came to this tall vertical rock wall. It had a lot of boulders in its base, but it looked steep at the top. Viktor motioned in the direction of the wall. I raised an eyebrow, hinting "Are you serious ?". Everything was being communicated in sign language now. Flushed with the confidence from my boulder hopping, I attacked this vertical wall. I climbed higher and higher. Focused on my goal of getting to the top in record time. Higher and higher. Until I reached a spot, where I had no handhold. I scouted around for another spot to climb up and made my first mistake. I made the mistake of looking down. Far below me was the solid ground I had been confidently striding on. Now, perched high upon the ledge, I felt nothing but fear. I cringed close to the rock. My sturdy legs were feeling weak. I couldn't even climb down, I was paralyzed on my spot. Then Viktor came along, asked me what's up. I told him that it's impossible to go further. He gave me a look that made me feel like a small insect. On he went grabbing grass roots and what not. He was over the final part and onto the top. I mustered up the courage and hauled myself up the final stretch. My confidence shattered and a lot more humbled.

Viktor bouldering up the slopes

Forward we went. Viktor in the lead and Tatiana and I in tow. Soon we came across this gigantic glacier field. To the reader a glacier field, might seem chilling cold. The truth is that I was in my t-shirt and shorts. The heavy hiking and the warm sun made the temperature rather pleasant. On seeing ice, I got really excited. I paid no heed to Viktor's warnings about glaciers collapsing into crevasses and hopped onto a rock in the middle of the glacier. I even got Viktor to take my picture(see below) standing in the middle of the snow field. I can't describe the beauty of the snow field. Barren in its beauty. I can fully understand how some men like the Lawrence of Arabia fall in love with the barren beauty of the desert. I stood there inhaling the crisp mountain air, appreciating the barrenness, ruggedness and magnitude of it all. We humans are so small in comparison. Civilizations and governments come and go, but the mountains remain. The proud and tall creations of nature's might.

Me examining the glacier

We carefully crossed this snowfield. I was somewhat careful while stepping on the ice. My vibram soled patagonia shoes had solid grip on dry rock but they were extremely slippery on ice. I gingerly crossed this snow field, nearly slipping once. More rock and another snow field greeted us. I swallowed hard when I saw it. It was steep at nearly a 45 degree angle. It plunged deep down into a cliff. I looked into the direction of Viktor to plead with him. But he paid no heed. He was already ahead of me, breaking out his trekking poles crossing the snow. I stood there transfixed on the spot. Soon Tatiana overtook me as well. I had no choice but to move on. This glacier was a little different from the previous one, it had a lot more dry snow. That crumbled under the foot. I had no choice. I took my first steps very carefully, digging my feet into the snow as deep as I could. Carefully step by step I crossed, the snow. I was nearly at the other side. I felt the wind whoosh past my ears, as I hurtled down the mountain.

The snow had given way under my feet and I was now speeding down the mountain. What did I think of ? I thought "What's happening?", "This can't be happening", "Just a bad dream. Come on snap off it now", "Is this how it is all supposed to end?". Yes, this was a near death scenario and it was happening to me. I don't know how much time transpired, but it felt like an eternity. I hit a rock and my fall stopped. Today, I was alive.

Part II is continued in the following blogpost Cliffs, Marmots and Urgency

A reply to "27 and unmarried"

2011-07-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

I recently came across this article "27 and Unmarried?" on somebody's facebook post. This article describes the thoughts of a yet unmarried Indian lady with regards to her dream mate. I would recommend reading this article. It's well written and rather enjoyable. I was thinking of a suitable/witty comment, but I could hardly come up with one. You see, an fb comment needs to be just short enough to elicit reader interest. However, I had lots to say. In order to do justice I decided to dedicate an entire blogpost to the reply. The reader would have to read her article first in order to make sense of this blogpost.

I do not know the author of the article. Nor have I read her blog before. However, I am an Indian-Bengali-USA-residing-Coder-Single-Guy and this just got personal. Ofcourse no malice was directed at any particular group. Still I could not help feeling a touch helpless after reading this article. Helplessness at my own fate. There were several aspects to her article that I had an opinion on.

On self-made men and romance : I think I can understand what Italian and Greek men have. The zest for life and the strength of character that makes men men. The behavior of men is ruled by desire, emotion and knowledge. A person who can harness the power of all of these at will and with with moderation is justifiably a genuine man. And I am not making this shit up. Plato is responsible for spewing this wisdom. It's not that Indian guys are incapable of being adventurous romantic men. But you must consider the circumstances. Every loving responsible Indian mom and dad, wants their son to be successful in life. That usually ends up making zombie coders who emigrate to the US. If the circumstances were different. If there was economic safety, freedom of spirit, art and adventure in youth then things would be different. You would certainly get a lot more Italian types in Indian men. It's nurture not nature here that is messing things up. How I wish the environment could be changed.

On Dominance Relationships: The author talks about her MB man taking the initiative always. In ballroom dancing it's always the guy who is supposed to lead. However, the dominatrix in the woman is also pretty strong. That's why "girls with oodles of self esteem" are not to be taken lightly. Sparks fly. An aggressive courting ensues until one softens up. \cite{Brothers Karamazov - Dosteovsky}. It's a good game. I like such games.

Genetics and predestination: What do you do when your genes are stacked against you? When brawn doesn't come to you naturally ? You can feel helpless for yourself. You can feel spite for the world that values such embellishments as puffy muscles and broad chests. Or you can put your best foot forward and with the humility that only real pride can afford, offer something else. Offer passion, love, care and good conversation.

On Stereotypes and generalizing : Not every Indian-Bengali-USA-residing-Coder-Single-Guy wants to take out a mortgage on a house in Seattle. There are those with a spark of adventure, a spirit of daring, anger in life and those who will be the first to take the initiative, pin down and kiss.

And, that's all I have to say about that.

My Run

2011-07-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

Some readers might know me well enough to be aware that I like running. I've run two city marathons and completed one ultra trail challenge so far. Given that I blog about rather small things, it might seem somewhat strange that I have stayed away from blogging about my running. There's a lot to write about, no doubt. However, I felt hesitant whenever I tried to pen down something. I attribute this reluctance to the fact that running is a deeply personal experience for me. What happens in my head tends to stay in my head. Nevertheless, I'll try to shine a light on some.

What do I think of when I run ? I'll answer that by mentioning what I don't think of. I don't think about research, I don't think about buying an ipad, I don't think about bad relationships and I don't think about schedules or deadlines. in fact I don't think about a god damn thing. Thoughts that do enter my mind are something like, "thirsty - need water", "uphill - fuck", "car - careful", "come on one more mile". Though, it's mostly blankness punctuated by the sound of my feet and the rhythm of my breathing. There's a 10 feet wide bubble around me and that is my world. Time melts away, priorities disintegrate and facades collapse. And trail runs are even better. There's something primal, to be running past the trees and by the stream, crossing bridges and skirting gorges. If ever I have had doubts about existence, they dissipate. I feel more in touch with my true self whilst sucking on the sweet nectar of life.

Old man George

2011-07-12T18:51:00.001-07:00

His name was George,
and his age was old.
His height was short,
and his head was bald.

He wore long pants,
shorts were not his style.
His shoes were polished,
leather bode him well.

He might have been black,
but he could have been white.
He might have been a crook,
yet he could have been a king.

He looked like a serious man,
he seemed very focused.
What was he doing there,
squatting on your garden lawn?

Knew this not anyone,
nor did anyone care.
Except the brown young man,
with the glint in his eye.

The sweat on his furrow,
dropped onto the thirsty earth.
While stubby gnarly fingers,
pulled at the stubborn weeds.

Slowly and painfully,
did George's hands move.
Slowly and painfully,
was I forced to watch.

Paralyzed did he stand,
the brown young man.
What was I to do,
the brown young man ?

The asking price

2011-06-07T17:16:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, what is your asking price ? How much will it cost to make to you sit inside a room all day long and stare at a computer screen ? How much will it cost for me to buy your life away from you ? Well, what is your price ? If it's hard to put a number on the dollar figure, perhaps lets rephrase to make it more tangible. Is it such that you can have a nice car and a house ? Is it all so that you have enough to take care of your aging parents ? Maybe it's enough so that you can stockpile enough to finally pursue that dream of yours without worrying about money ? Well how much is it ? $80K annually ? for the bankers amongst us maybe $200K ? Let's throw in a few million for the budding Zuckerbergs.

Everyone has an asking price at which they sell their soul. Poor desperate people sell for a single vote, others need dollar denominations. But dear reader, I digress. Let's stick to the topic of me buying your life from you. You may rationalize and reason, that you do it for your survival. You may even create weekend hobbies to distract you. Some may even say that they like their job. Ofcourse, everyone compromises. In this competitive world, no one can have it all. But, wait until you hear the best part. Do you know what I am going to do with your life I just purchased ? I am going to use it to buy your kid's life too.

Everyone Loves an Underdog Upset

2011-05-12T08:17:00.000-07:00

The other day, I was browsing through a list of sports movies on netflix. Though each of the individual sports were different, there was something common about all of them. This nagging feeling made me desist. So I sat there staring at my screen, perplexed like Buridan's ass. I was about to make a cynical comment about our abundance of choice when I noticed something. Most of the movies had keywords like "Heart Warming, Unbelievable, Quest, Rise" etc. I tilted my head sideways, smirked and I knew I had a new blogpost coming.

Didn't you love the Count of Monte Cristo, V for Vendetta, Forrest Gump, Rocky Balboa and others in its ilk? Didn't you love it when the funny looking fat little man sang Opera? Well, didn't you ? I know you did. There's something primal in our instincts that makes us revel in joy when the common man, the unknown, the insignificant, the underdog stages an upset. Some of it is surely borne out of our empathy for the underdog, for most of us have felt that way. Sometimes, it is a chance to romanticize, imagining ourselves in the shoes of the underdog. Nothing, I tell you, nothing compares to the feeling of achieving goals that others said were out of you reach. Extraordinary feats by ordinary men, that's the stuff that legends are made off. A toast to the underdog..!

The Anger at Loss

2011-04-22T14:03:00.001-07:00

What is that makes us angry at a profound loss?

Imagine that you love something or someone very deeply. You feel a sense of unbreakable attachment. Almost a sense of entitlement. An everlasting feeling. There are absolutely no doubts that it belongs to you. Nothing can shake that bond. And then suddenly out of the blue things go haywire. This was not supposed to happen to you. This was supposed to happen to someone else. Someone else's story. Not in this lifetime. You feel that this is just a bad dream and if you pinch yourself hard enough, you will snap out of this hallucination. But it doesn't. It lingers. This sick feeling in your gut. It creeps up your spine. You look outside the window. All you see a distant dreamy landscape, something that you have seen several times before yet looks alien. This is just a bad dream, you reassure yourself... Just a bad dream.

The grief has long passed. A void now takes its place. But the void is only ephemeral. It is being quickly replaced by an unstoppable feeling. A feeling that makes your muscles tighten. You grit your teeth. Your fist is clenched. A lump starts welling up in your throat. And before long you are overcome by an intense anger. This anger is pure and untamed. A reflection of the true animal that you are. Rationality has long left you. You bay for blood. A revenge that will set everything right. A vigilante justice that only you can serve. A vendetta not in vain...

Deadmau5

2011-04-12T20:48:00.000-07:00

"The bass is so heavy my rubix cube fell off my desk and completed itsself, neighbors called the police and they got arrested, my windows broke and had to buy a mac, my cat barked, ʇxǝʇ ʎɯ oʇ sıɥʇ pıp doɹp ssɐq ǝɥʇ, I have to change my pants, made --- people miss the like button, mom walked in and I switched to porn, it became my neighbors favorite song, hitler got his gas bill, I pressed F13 for extra bass, my water turned into wine, I clicked 720p, it went B0:00M" - A highly liked comment on a deadmau5 youtube video.

We are Machines

2011-04-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

"We are Machines" - This is a profound realization that I have gotten off late. To go into the moral and religious ramifications of this statement would be opening a can of worms, and that tends to attract a lot of flies. I am in no mood for fly-swatting. So not going into any controversy, I will talk about some of the practical aspects of living life as a machine. To appreciate the rest of this post, the reader will first need to agree with me that we are indeed machines. If this somehow seems implausible, I request you to suspend disbelief and agree with me for a short while.

By bringing up machines, I am not referring to Robots or any of those androidy things that science fiction movies would have you believe. But rather think of yourself as a rusty old steam engine. Yes, a steam engine. A good old steam engine with many moving parts. It's a good analogy. Just like a steam engine needs fuel and water, so do we. In many ways, we are exactly that, a steam engine. But never in their life would anyone consider themselves to be a machine. It somehow degrades this thing called life. It degrades this feeling of self. It makes all our emotions and all our hopes and dreams seem frivolous. It discounts our belief that we are somehow capable of much greater feats. But dear readers, since you have read this far, and you have suspended your disbelief so far, bear me a little longer...

So if we are indeed machines, why do we not feel like one? Why are we not made aware in every footstep and every breath that were are mere machines? The answer my friend is that we are too comfortable. Too cozy and too well fed. Every time you push yourself beyond your comfort zone, the machine creaks and groans, and you are Reminded ever so gently, that you are all but a machine. So the next time you go out of breath trying to climb the staircase, don't curse the elevator, but instead remember to smile. Smile with the knowledge that the machine is complaining.

P.S. I do not believe in a mind-body dichotomy.

Compassionate Pittsburghers

2011-03-21T13:12:00.000-07:00

It's been a great weekend. The weather was just marvelous on Friday, rare occasions when one can sport a T-shirt and enjoy the outdoors. Saturday was nice too, I went out for a longish group run with the AID team, a well spent day. Sunday came and the weather was brilliant again. It would be absolute crime to stay indoors. Basu seemed up for doing something, Aaditya wanted to bike and I couldn't refuse. So the plan was made for Basu and I to go for a long walk. Aaditya would join us on the bike somewhere along the trail.

So Basu and I headed out on our long walk, a distance of around 10K. I had the trail mapped out on my head so I was acting as the default guide. We started from home, walked on the pavements, crossed a few roads, and entered the woods of Frick Park. The park was bare and austere in its beauty as the leaves had not yet returned. One could also make out the topology of the hills, which were otherwise obscured in the summer. It was very liberating to walk on the trails, and Basu headed off for a jog on sections of the trail. Slowly we started veering off the main trails and into less beaten tracks. The occasional jogger/ biker was much rarer to come by. My mind started drifting and I started thinking about how pleasantly surprised I had been to run into Prof Alan Black a few weeks back on these same trails. Really, this section was very desolate and one can feel the thick silence. Occasionally the tweet of a bird would be a welcome distraction.

Finally we reached the Monongahela river, climbed up to the waterfront bridge and started walking over to the other side. The sound of cars and trucks roaring past was in stark contrast to the silence of the trails we had just left behind. Aaditya joined us in the middle of the bridge and we walked over to the other side. We took the bus back from waterfront back to campus and Aaditya put his bike on the bus rack. From campus Aaditya biked back home while Basu and I took the escort. Sometime before we reached home, I got a call from Aaditya. "Help, I'm lying at the intersection of 5th and Shady and severely cramped". That couldn't be good. I promised I would be there in a few minutes. It was quite as he described, he was lying on the pavement with his bike and helmet on his head, unable to move his legs. Basu and I tried helping to get some life back into his legs and helping him stand up. Eventually he managed to get up and hobble back home. What was really nice and heart warming was that upto four cars stopped on this busy intersection, and people got off to ask if we needed any help. Yes, Pittsburghers may appear rough and loud, but they are surely nice at heart.

Swing voting

2011-03-09T16:56:00.000-08:00

I can't seem to put my finger on it, but I can sense there to be a connection between swing voting and dire need. Swing voting and facebook. Let me elaborate ...

29% of immigrants identify themselves as independents when compared to 18% of native born Americans. Latino voters are known to exhibit swing behavior during elections depending on who the candidate is and what he/she is offering. This is in contrast to the strong partisan politics exhibited by native borns.

I sense that this happens when a person/ community has a basic need that is yet to be fulfilled such as overcoming poverty, getting jobs, a sense of security/ belonging. You go to whoever gives you the carrot at that time. Is this good in the long run for the community ? certainly not. But when your biggest concern is meeting today's needs, there's not much choice, is there ?

What about facebook? Facebook, twitter, etc.. are only one of the few manifestations of our generation's chronic attention deficit disorder. The pricelessness of now is fatal to the sense of loyalty, sacrifice, etc.. So much about that.

Clouds of darkness

2011-03-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

What is the reason behind my reluctance in posting blogs ? It is certainly not because I am too busy to type a few lines every week. Nor is it because of a lack of things to say. It might be due to the reason that I am finding my thoughts to have been transformed into an increasingly dark nature. Some of these thoughts relate to god and to the human race. They are certainly not populist thoughts. They are not yet mature enough to be disseminated to others. I am sure there are others in my plight. Others who have been tormented much more than me. Many were driven to madness and others to depression. Am I in a dark place in my life ? Certainly not. I am more awake, aware and more lively than every before. At times, I feel this urge to pen down my thoughts and post it. But not yet, Not yet. My ideas are still embryonic. They need reinforcement from the great thinkers of the past. For which I am reading like never before. My ideas need an outlet for mass dissemination, for which I will create an agent and a story. The blog posts will return, but not yet.

A cold and snowy day

2010-12-23T14:54:00.000-08:00

The weather forecast for today said snow showers with gusty winds. A perfect setting stage for christmas eve. A time to spend time at home with friends and family, drinking wine and having sumptuous dinners. Certainly not the time to venture outside and go for a run. That's exactly what I did.

Just a few days back, I watched a movie called Ultramarathon Marathon Man : Endurance 50. It was about a crazy guy called Dean Karnazes who vowed to run 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 consecutive days and he did it. He is a very humble and down to earth guy who just loves running really really long. He also happens to be my personal hero. He wrote a book called Ultramarathon man : Confessions of an all night runner. Being a big fan of his I decided that I needed to get this book. And what better way than to run to the book store and get it.

On a whim I put on my running shoes. Donned my winter running gear and off I went. I ran the 6 miles from university to the Barnes and Noble store in the waterfront. It was cold and snowy, and there were many moments when I wondered what the hell was I doing. The part where I ran on the bridge connecting homestead over the river was splendid. I was running with the wind , so the snow flakes seemed still, suspended in the air. I finally got to the store, my face flushed with the cold. I walked up to the store lady and asked her about the book. There was just one copy left. I felt like I had totally earned this book and paid homage in my own little way to the great man that is Dean Karnazes.

Idealism regularized by pragmatism

2010-12-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

It is now exactly half a year, since I wrote my last blog. These last 6 months have been the hardest in my life so far. I was buffeted by gale force winds from every aspect of my life, whether professional or personal. At the end of it all I am so worn out that I feel just painlessly numb. Even an all night session of online poker did not succeed in bringing me out of limbo.

I like to believe that I am a pragmatic idealist. This means that I try to uphold certain principles as long as they are reasonable. For example, I will use the dishwasher even if it wastes water. In any situation I can come up with these "pragmatically idealistic principles" in my head. Some of them are rule-based with many if-then-else clauses. In the last 6 months, I have had many personal battles with the voices in my head. Quite like the red devil vs the white angel. I have been pushed around so much, that at some point I think I stopped caring. The flame of passion and the light of idealism died. I no longer cared to formulate these well reasoned pragmatically idealistic principles and I went where the currents dragged me.

I feel exhausted. Like a marathon runner who has hit the wall at the 15th mile. I don't know what lies in my future. I feel like falling, free falling and not in the skydiving sort of way.

I want to run

2010-06-22T07:39:00.000-07:00

I want to run. Run like Forrest. I mean to really really keep running. Run far far away. At first there will be paved roads in the concrete jungle. Towering edifices of man's creations will surround me. Then there will come the ghettos, a reminder of the ills that plague society. I will run nimbly avoiding the feces. Then there will come the rich villas, with the manicured lawns. I will swiftly run past the pretty poodles and their prettier masters. Then there will come the freeways, those 6 lane conduits to far far away. I will jump over the barrier onto bylanes and I will run, run into the fields. Then there will come cattle and there will come streams. I will run past them as they mulch and gurgle away. Then there will come the railroad , cutting across the land. I will run along the tracks as the train thunders past. Then there will come the forest, a paradise of green. I will run like a mohawk and follow the wolves. Then there will come the mountains, there will come the ice. I will be chilled to the bone and my legs will hurt. But I will run, run as far as I can, with the eagle watching over me. Then there will come loneliness, a strange new friend. One who is always there but never by your side. And I will run , run into the desert. My throat will be parched and my tongue will be dry. The rattlesnakes and the scorpions will watch as I run past them. Finally, there will come a cliff. A cliff overlooking a vast ocean. I will stretch out my arms and in a perfect 10.0 jump, I will dive into the ocean. I will fall through the sky, and the wind will rush past my ears. Then there will be a splash, and I will dive deep deep under. It will be worth it, certainly it will.

Fireflies

2010-06-15T18:26:00.000-07:00

What an amazing sight...! Tiny little flash bulbs going off every now and then. Trees decorated with little lights. Almost seemed like christmas is here. There's something about these bugs that brings so much joy. It makes me feel like a kid again. Reminds of a Durga Puja that I spent in Patna once. I want to run and catch these things. Collect a jar full of these flashing bugs. Heck, it even reminded me of the glowworm in James and the Giant peach.The one that became the torch of lady liberty and saved the city of its electric bills.

In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes

2010-06-05T15:02:00.001-07:00

I live in the city of Pittsburgh. Incidentally this is where Andy Warhol was born. The city has a museum in his honor. A visit to this museum was in my list of things to do for a long time. I made it happen today. A bit of wikishagging and some fundae from my officemate later I felt equipped enough to take on a day of modern art. Not just any modern art, but Pop art of Americana. The essential principle of pop-art is to take the everyday banal object and elevate it to the status of art. Coke bottles, soup cans, carton boxes, anything can become art. Thus like pop-music, anybody can appreciate pop-art. This is quite an empowering concept. Art traditionally belongs to the bigwigs, the connoisseurs. The man on main street can make no claim about art. But hey, pop art was this radical commie concept. Everyone now wielded the wand of making art. Andy Warhol in a sense was a revolutionary.

One of the famous things that he said was that "In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes". Bravo.

The importance of good health

2010-04-17T13:44:00.000-07:00

Health really is wealth. I mean literally. Those who have had the fortune of having to go through the US healthcare system will know what I am talking about. Even back home in India things are not so much different. The quality of medical care seems to be rapidly segregating into those who can afford big checks and those who can't. So yes, health is wealth. It's a good maxim to remember.

Most of my friends and those of my age suffer from arrogance. Arrogance of the youth. We believe that nothing can stop of us. We are young, life is good and everything is hunky dory. Smoking, drinking and eating junk does not affect us. How can it ? after all we are young. Only those weird uncle types with balding hair and flabby skin are the ones who have all these problems. so let's make merry while it lasts. After all we are young.

To your good health..!

It dudnt matter

2010-03-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

One of the major headaches in statistical theory is what to do if your sample is too small. Really statistics is all about lots of numbers. In essence, statistics is damn good at predicting what the herd would do but extremely inaccurate when it comes to the individual.

So here is a thought for all self respecting flocks out there. Please do not burden your opinions on others, or think that the world hinges around your very existence,or for that matter whether your twitter message says if you pooped today or not. It dudnt matter..! It dudnt matter if you eat organic or if you buy cosmetics that haven't been tested on animals. It dudnt matter if you chose Mac over PC, it dudnt matter. Yes, it dudnt. There are far greater forces in motion in this world, that will render your say absolutely worthless.

Yes, stop wasting time, feeling too important.

A warmer day

2010-01-14T14:49:00.000-08:00

As the snow melts around me, I feel a sense of loss. Like something beautiful, something pristine, is leaving this world. But somewhere at the back of my mind,I know that the cycle will repeat and the snow will all come back. I find that this devastating beauty is exceeded only by its harshness .Somehow, it makes the human spirit stronger, firmer and more willing. In Neitzsche like thinking, the winter acts like a bridge between and 'man' and 'ubermansch'. But there is no guarantee in this and one can very easily become lazy and fearful of the cold, refusing to stray out of the heated interiors. It is like a big ball on the very tip of a hill. It can go either way, to ubermansch or to sloth. It just needs a small push.

P.S. I dont know why I wrote this. The cold is getting to me.

The Ugly side

2009-12-22T08:26:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-20T16:42:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-10T21:07:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-26T13:20:00.000-08:00

Why are opinionated people happier ?

please tell me.
Seeking your comments.

Updates

2009-11-18T03:12:00.000-08:00

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.

In defence of a roommate

2009-09-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

I apologise to the general reader, for this blogpost is meant only for a few. Those who are familiar with a 'Basu a.k.a ditcher' and those who know his many tales. We have spared no opportunity to pull his leg ( oooof...! what legs) or make some kela of his public. But in this blogpost I am going to do none of that, except say that I am really glad to have this gentle giant, as my roommate. I would've liked to have none other.

Ok, now back to work. :)

PGR

2009-09-04T16:18:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-17T21:14:00.000-07:00

'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

2009-08-15T07:46:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-05T17:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-06T10:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-24T20:47:00.000-07:00

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.

Basu a.k.a Ditcher

2009-06-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

Never in the history of ditching has there been one greater.

Please let us observe a moment of silence.

This is an excerpt from a speech delivered by world leaders

"
Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, Members of the Senate, and of the House of Representatives:

Yesterday, June 20th, 2009 -- a date which will live in infamy -- the members of Emerald Top Floor were suddenly and deliberately attacked by ditching forces of the Vile mindset of Saurabh Basu.

The ETF was at peace with that this ditcher, at the solicitation of Basu, was still in conversation with its rationality and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the ETF.

....

..
"

Btw.. I ripped it off from FDR speech after Pearl Harbour bombing

Corrupt officials vs unscrupulous gentry

2009-06-14T18:56:00.000-07:00

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 )

2009-05-19T06:21:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-17T03:46:00.000-07:00

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 )

2009-05-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-01-17T21:34:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-02T19:23:00.000-08:00

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.

Precipice

2008-12-31T19:37:00.000-08:00

My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me. I am angry. Very angry. Very angry.
I am beyond the questions. They have betrayed me. I want to shout. No, scream. But, I just took a resolution. I will stay calm. Yes, I will stay calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.
The flashbulbs will go off. Without me. The newspapers will talk. Not about me. A household name. Not me. It's seething inside me. But I will stay calm. I need to. For their sake at least. Why should I be the gentleman. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. Their living guts. And all you fuckers too. Fuck you all. Fuck You......
I am angry. I promised to stay calm. I am calm. Can I be calm. I'll meet those phoneys. I'll be calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.

Mumbaiyya

2008-12-18T10:29:00.000-08:00

This blog is addressed to all non mumbaikars (like me). The name Mumbai or Bombay features in my list of cool cities. So does Paris and L.A. My choices are obviously a result of my experiences, both real and imaginary. I have for instance experienced Paris by night but only imagined sunny L.A. But that is beside the point. The main thing is that Bombay is in my list of cool cities.
How it got there is a long story....

To me Bombay had always been this place in the Movies. Almost every movie somehow mega glorified Bombay. Scenes from Rangeela with Urmila swaying her hips and Aamir khan being studly shall always have Bombay encrusted in the Background. So Bombay, for me was this ethereal town. In the movies it firmly remained. Until one summer after first year of college, I decided to visit it. Believe me it was everything that I thought it would be. My first few days was an overwhelming experience. I tended to observe the hubbub in Bombay from a higher plane. The people dashing. The horns blaring. The extreme wealth. The utter poverty. It was like the movies. Every bit of it was true. After the first few days, I needed to meet someone at a certain time and at a certain place. I didn't realize but I had already divorced myself from my detachment of Bombay. As I ran to take the next local from Dadar, flagged down an auto, and cursed the many beggars, I was oblivious to the reality that I had now been officially inducted into Mumbaihood. And the story continued.

Many more Mumbai trips have happened since them. I have met some amazing people, been to cool hangouts, done very fun things and today Mumbai is easily up there. Right among the best of the lot.

Post Mortem

2008-11-01T08:33:00.000-07:00

Where do people go when they die ?

I really don't know the answer to that. Somehow this always comes under the purview of every religion. Either acknowledging it or the complete lack of it. There is no middle ground. But, I want to know what happens to me when I die. Do i switch off like a machine and then everything goes into utter darkness??.... The thought is scary. But as always, the spark of ingenuity in me has come with an alternate explanation.

I don't care what others say, but this is where I will go, period.
A place with lots of good food and drinks.

Cutie

2008-10-24T03:50:00.000-07:00

She stood there blocking my path. In ordinary circumstances, I would just step aside and proceed totally oblivious. But her eyes held me. She was a cow albeit a very cute one. Her eyelashes so pretty, that it almost seemed like she had kajal on. As she chewed her cud, ruminating on her daily forages, I began to wonder whether she actually noticed my presence. There was also the outside chance that she might suddenly get very touchy and decide to gore me with her unsightly horns. This thought started nagging me. At first it started off as an itch in a corner of my head and then it started creeping into my nerves. Within a few moments, it had developed into a full blown paranoia. The docile image of her bovinness been replaced by that of a raging, depraved and wild animal. Flares after flares of adrenalin rushed through me. My face flushed. My blood was hot. I could feel sweat on my back. I wanted to run, but couldn't decide which direction to flee. I just stood there transfixed, rooted at the spot. Well, time passed. I remember feeling very hungry, and the mess food tasting godly.

P.S. Those who can know will know.

Blackout(s) II

2008-10-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

The shadow of a human hand fell on a whitish wall. The shadow danced a slow clumsy dance. It flickered and jumped as if it were the least bit comfortable. Then suddenly there was darkness. A gust of wind had knocked open the window. The wick of the candle lay smoldering. The red glow gently diminishing with every swirl of cold air. Slowly, the last embers died out. The night sounds made their eerie presence felt. The sound of crickets filled the dark void. "Where the hell is the matchbox ?"

The dog that said no.

2008-10-10T11:34:00.001-07:00

Every now and again, there occurs an events so improbable that it shakes your entire belief system. I encountered one such event today. The essential premise of man's superiority over animals is that we are able to think and take well thought out decisions. More thought, less instinct. In fact, we take pride that we can delay instinct so much that it becomes rational thinking. It is perhaps in our instinct to eat meat when hungry, but a strict vegetarian will tell you otherwise. As I said before, thought prevails over instinct. What I could no digest was why a dog(belonging to the canine family)would refuse to eat meat and choose sambar rice instead. Strange. Maybe genetic mutations are happening at a faster rate, and very soon we will see a new breed of vegetarian dogs. But consider the possibility, that the dog refused the meat by choice. Could this mean that, we humans are not so unique after all.

Blackout(s)

2008-10-04T06:24:00.000-07:00

The buzz near my ear was seriously irritating me. I swear, I hate mosquitoes. By now, a layer of sweat had formed on my face, which somehow encouraged me to sweat even more. The buzz reached a crescendo. Ok enough! the mosquito had to die. Whack..!!!... ya, it's dead. A feeling of satisfaction came over me, that me temporarily revel in the glow of this terrible blackout.

My room was getting too stuffy for my liking, so I went out to the verandah. The 3 AM moonlight greeted me, with a certain sense of foreboding. All around me the trees were bathed in the dim light. I was feeling lonely all right. I placed myself on the verandah wall and thought no thoughts. Just this nagging feeling of wanting to sleep. Images of the previous day and the day to come flitted before my eyes. 3AM is a very wierd time. It's not yesterday nor today nor tomorrow. Well I just remained. thinking no thoughts.

What is Happening in Kashmir?

2008-08-14T02:35:00.000-07:00

My daily dose of news comes in the form of newspaper delivered with a loud thud. This is my cue that the day has started and the world has indeed turned a full circle. Lately I just don't feel like getting up and reading the news. It's not because of my laziness, I'm simply afraid of what I might see. Violence is everywhere. Bomb blasts, genocide in S.Ossetia and now riots in Kashmir. Seriously, what the hell is going on in the garden on top of the world?

I'm a proud Indian, I have enormous faith in the army and I'll stand by every decision they take. However, I can't help but draw parallels in history. Whenever, the indigenous people of a region are genuinely pissed, change happens. Trying to stop the rising tide of change by imposing martial law and killing innocent civilians is never the solution. Such a scenario is only going to have violent repurcussions. The founding fathers of our country have always told us to tread the path of peace and non violence. Even happenings in Palestine, Iraq and Vietnam have have shown us the prolonged effects of the use of force. I sincerely hope that an amicable solution is found to whatever it is that the people of Kashmir are upset about and that the violence ends soon.

Peripatetic me

2008-08-04T23:41:00.000-07:00

My Halcyon days were spent in the winters of Delhi. The holidays were a time for friends and family. On one such winter, still a wee lad, barely started going to school, I was basking in the sun. Sprawled out on my grandma's lap, I was gently purring like a Persian cat that has just had an entire fish. My grandma used to shower me with grandmotherly affection and narrate to me Panchatantra stories packed with morales( none of it has sunk in :( ). She was examining my feet and she told me something that I can never forget. She had noticed a small mole on the sole of my right foot. She said that this signified that I would do a lot of travelling, just like my dad.

Hmmmm... I'm 20 now and I certainly have travelled a lot. From peering down at the Big Apple on top of the WTC, taking a hike on the Great wall, celebrating Bastille day in front of the Eiffel tower, shopping on Orchard street, staying at a Nazi Concentration camp, swearing at pimps in Bangkok, conquering the Himalayas,Alps and the Appalachians to visiting temples in every nook and corner in India. I have been there, done that and I am definitely going to travel a lot more too. It is easy to give into fatalism and make up theories to explain the reality around you. It's convenient to say that this is my fate and feel good about it. I make no such claim despite my grandma's sincere predictions. One thing I'm sure of, fate or no fate, my dad loves travelling and I have his bug.

Turn on, Tune in, Drop out

2008-08-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

Came across this recently. Very Nice.

" Turn on' meant go within to activate your neural and genetic equipment. Become sensitive to the many and various levels of consciousness and the specific triggers that engage them. Drugs were one way to accomplish this end. 'Tune in' meant interact harmoniously with the world around you - externalize, materialize, express your new internal perspectives. Drop out suggested an elective, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. 'Drop Out' meant self-reliance, a discovery of one's singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change. Unhappily my explanations of this sequence of personal development were often misinterpreted to mean 'Get stoned and abandon all constructive activity.' " - Leary

Siddhartha by Herman Hesse

2008-08-04T23:06:00.001-07:00

Questions of the spirit and the soul have never really troubled me nor did I have too much time to even pose such questions. Everything has been about fulfilling my needs in the present. Herman Hesse calls this living in samsara. He states that living in samsara makes you acutely aware of your senses. Feelings of joy, anxiety, pleasure, pain, etc. take on a new meaning. Somehow this is not such a good thing. Hesse claims that there is an alternative. There is a higher plane that humans should aspire to reach, something about detachment from the self and being one with everything. Realising the intransience of time and the value of wisdome over knowledge. You get the picture.

Like a true cynic, I mock all that he propounds. Obviously, my negative overtones have a reason and that reason is not so complex. I just love living.

Glades

2008-07-30T02:19:00.000-07:00

A tender flower looked at the prince over the mildewed grass,
wondering who the fellow was, sleeping with a face so calm;
Something's wrong with his pallor though she, something about his eyes,
never have I seen a chap so still, so completely detached from life;

Many moons had passed,many stars had shown, over the garden glades,
and he began to bloat,he began to smell, much like a rotten corpse;
Oh! What an arrogant lad thought she, how dare he look so bad,
somebody should tell him firmly, to go die somewhere else;

Autumn passed and winter came, over the hallowed land,
the flower she was no more, much like all her friends;
The prince, lay he, still like a bunch of bones ,
who are we to judge, who are we to dictate, over the grassy glades;

Goodbye France... I love you

2008-07-18T10:30:00.000-07:00

Well my journey has come to an end. It is time for hugs and goodbyes. I am supremely sad to be leaving. Wish I could have stayed on for some more time. In the short duration that I was here, I really have fallen in love with France. The life, the culture and the people shall forever remain with me. I know I have many more places to go, many more things to see, more people to meet, but I am sure that this place has touched me like none other. Even if I come back to France later in my life, things will not be the same. I will have different needs and expectations. Well, it won't be the same. Maybe it was meant to be just a dreamtrip. A dream that I will forever cherish. It is now time to wake up.
Goodbye France. Au Revoir.

French cuisine

2008-07-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

What can I say.. they are simply delectable... This is a picture blog about what you might generally expect to have on a typical French lunch meal. It's hard on the veggies, but that's your personal choice.

You start with the Entréés which are basically different varitieties of salads and fruits.

Fish salade

Shrimp salade

Carrot Salade

Cold meat salade

Then you move onto the main course, where there are exceptionally large number of choices. You pick a main dish which is generally a type of meat or fish and have it with something like vegetables or rice.

Poulet(Chicken)

Dinde(Turkey)

Brochette

Poisson(Fish)

All the main course dishes demand that you have it with something...

Rice

Vegetables

Frites( Yes the French love French fries :) :) )

And finally the desserts, I don't know how they do it... but they are simply godly. How thye achieve such taste and perfection shall always remain a mystery to me.

I don't really remember the names of them. Feast your eyes anyway.

The Vin Chaude experiment

2008-07-18T09:27:00.000-07:00

My trip to Chamonix(French Alps) was simply out of this world. The snow white mountains, the beautiful valley shall forever remain etched in my heart and mind. The mountains can be very chilly(snow cover) and once you come down into the valley, you feel like having something that'll warm ur senses. One of my good friends had suggested that I try vin chaude(Hot wine). It was certainly an experiment cuz I've never had anything like it. Everything till now had been served chilled or at most at room temperature.

It arrived in a goblet, looking no different from normal wine. Until I saw all that was in it. A variety of exotic spices and cardamom sticks hung about in it. It was hot to touch. And the smell it emanated... ummmm.... I suggest if any of you ever go to Chamonix in ur lifetime, don't forget to seal it with a Vin chaude.

Patra Series III - Kela Power

2008-07-18T07:52:00.001-07:00

It was the night before 'fete de la Musique'(Festival of Music) and the next day promised many great adventures.

22:00 hours : I rushed out off the Paris metro to rendezvous with Patra at the Eiffel Tower, who had promised to meet me there in great urgence.

22:10 hours : I was right under the Eiffel waiting for our man Patra to turn up, but to no avail.

22:20 hours : Made some frantic missed calls to Patra( I had 30 cents on my phone )

22:30 hours : A message arrives from Patra saying that he is on the Metro.

22:30:30 hours : I get frust. Y the f*** did he make me run all the way here?

23:00 hours : I decide I've had enough of sitting under a giant four legged erect male organ. I go for a walk around the park.

23:30 hours : I stroll back peacefully to find Patra standing at the designated spot, smiling contently. His reason for being late. "Arre I went to eat dosas at Gare du Nord(Paris India Town)". Something shrieked very hard inside me. It wanted to shout things like - "***tirade of adult curses*** Dosas ????? I have been standing here and waiting all this while for you and you've been eating Dosas???? ***tirade of adult curses*** .. !!! ", but since I'm so good natured, all that came out was "I see"

23:32 hours : We decide to climb up the eiffel tower(by foot) and stand in one of the many long lines.

00:10 hours : We reach the head of the queue and a big black guard looks at us rather sheepishly. "Open your bags please", the monster bellows. I timidly show him all my earthly possessions lest he bark at me again. Now his attention turns to Patra. "Open your bags please", the monster bellows yet again. Well fed Patra smiles and with an air of cool confidence opens his bag. The incredible hulk rummages through it, and suddenly lets out something like a giggle. Patra and I snatch a puzzled glance at each other. The giggle turns into a roaring guffaw. Mr Titan finally looks at Patra and lays bare the mystery "Ooooohhhh.... Banana.. HAHA HAHA HAHA". What he actually meant by that was "Kele khaane waale bachcho... tum kya terrorism karo ge" ... :D :D

Melancholy Marvin

2008-07-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

Everybody loves Raymond. Does anybody love Marvin? I don't. There is something seriously annoying about depressed people and when a robot gets depressed , you've had it...!!!

Marvin is one of the many characters in h2g2(hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy). If you haven't read h2g2 , i suggest you do so immediately. It's not well crafted like LOTR nor is it over hyped like Harry Potter. The book is simply a laugh riot that'll have you falling off the chair so many times that you wish you had your floor done with Turkish cushions.

Now getting back to Marvin, he is utterly depressing. He can take the most joyous of occassions and turn it into the saddest catastrophe. I'm telling you, the robot is a hazard..!!!

If the year was 1984 and I was Big Brother, you can be be sure there's gonna be one sorry bot...!!!

Yinsomniyaaaaa ??

2008-07-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

Cant keep my eyes open now. I can just feel this is going to be a very arbit blog. No maybe the arbiterer of the earlier blog that I was thinking of writing.

That sound in Nice is still echoing in my ears. it brings about a mixture of sleep, tiredness and bordeaux Rosé.

K my eyes are closed now, I am opeining them in intervals of a few seconds trying to force myself to appear interested. What does it remind me of ???? IT does remind me of something. Yes those terrible hours in high school, when everybody in the world wanted to judge you by that one exam.

K, my left hand is refusing to cooerate. Am too sleepy, goodnihgt;

me

All about Rosè

2008-07-18T05:51:00.000-07:00

There are many varities of wine. Some sweet, some sour, some just plain brilliant. Rose is one of the varieties and I won't go into how it is made or how it is served or bla bla.. All I want to talk about is my experience with Rose champagne(Champagne is the drink that fizzes all over, Schumaker loves spraying it around). Patra and I had a debate over whether there can be a rose champagne.

Somehow my experience has been limited to Brut and Demi sec which are both White wine varities of Champagne. I proceeded to vehemently argue the case against Rose champagne. Patra was more open minded and raised the intellectually creative question of why a rose variety can't exist. I came back with "If it is indeed possible, somebody would have thought of it". And the issue was laid to rest.

Until I went to the supermarket the other day and saw a row full of Rose champagnes just sitting there. I am the cat and curiosity got the better of me. I remember waking up the next morning expecting to have a terrible hangover, but guess what, Rose and champagne love each other... :) :)

cycle tracks

2008-07-18T03:36:00.000-07:00

The abundance of cycle tracks around Europe never ceases to amaze me. A cycle here, a cycle there, they got cycles everywhere... :P :P

The Europeans are serious when they talk about Euro norms and controlling the pollution, though it's a lot cheaper to not have a car.. :) :)

All hail hail

2008-07-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

It started with a gentle pitter patter. The kind that warms your heart and makes you feel like pulling your leg up and letting your body sink into the sofa. Claps of thunder rang across the sky. Hmmmm... perfect. By now I was snuggled in nice and comfortable. Slowly, every muscle in my body relaxed and I started slipping into a dreamy state. I started picturing a rainy day back at home, with khichdi and pakodas. Vicky (my dog) would really be enjoying his siesta. Somehow, the day would be a weekend and dad would be at home too. I would constantly be pestering bahadur to teach me how to make a paper boat.Perfect...That warm, cozy feeling was complete now. Nothing could shake me now... not even the constant loud roar outside. Hmmm...??? the question did creep into the back of my head. What was that noise?
I gave in finally and peeked out the window. What a spectacle did I behold...!!!!! Hail Hail everywhere...!!! It looked like a white sheet of ice had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I ran out, got pummelled and picked up little ice bits till my hands hurt. All the while it never occured to me that I was proving to be quite an oddity. While normal people ran for cover, I was the psyche job who was prancing around in the zero degree rain collecting hail stones. The stones kept melting but there were so many more...

Patra Series II - Yentraa Patra

2008-06-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

Patra likes having casual encounters with cheery anglo saxons. They talk the same language as us, and believe me,that is a LOT in common. Sometimes the anglo saxons turn out to be not quite that pedigree and have their lineage in the subcontinent. When these anglicized Indians meet Patra a lot of feelings bubble up within them and overflow in a giant volcano. In short, a UK desi said something to Patra.....

UK desi( beaming smile, approaches Patra ) : "Telegu aaaaa ???"
( hand over my mouth )
( cannot suppress laughter )
me: "Hohoho...!!!!! Hahahahaa....!!!!!"
( Pale white Patra )
( Still smiling UK desi )

Our wing is finally complete in all cultural diversity. Our very own Gult.

Arbeit Macht Frei

2008-06-26T03:34:00.001-07:00

"Work will set you free"

The Nazis were a cruel lot. Hoarding people up like cattle and putting them in work camps gave them their necessary sense of superiority. But it didn't stop at that. They needed constant symbolism of their power over others.
The first thing that prisoners arriving at the concentration camp saw were the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" meaning "Work will set you free". Oh! that sense of humor, can't get over it.

Patra Series I - The smelly socks affair

2008-06-26T03:24:00.000-07:00

Walking around for days without taking off your shoes does tend to make your feet a bit smelly. Well our man Patra did something extraordinary that is well worth a blog. There are many places where you can remove your shoes like for eg on a park bench, by the river side or in the comfort of your private quarters. A German AC bus is not one of them.
I don't kniw whether it was a pact or not but Patra and the Italian next to him decide to De-Apparel( no better phrase, sorry )at the same time. Well you can imagine what happened next. Billions of billions of molecules started bouncing around the bus in perfect elastic collisions carrying with them the aroma of all the places to where patra had been. That it was an AC bus ensured that not a single fellow was lost. Then, things got a little out of hand.
The bus driver stopped the bus.
He got off his seat.
Walked in the direction of Patra.
Sniffed around.
Shouted at the Italian.
Turned the AC on full blow.
Walked back.
Everyone stared at the Italian scornfully.

One thing is for sure. Our bhagvan ji ki darshan is certainly paying off...

The Great Escape

2008-06-25T09:47:00.000-07:00

Dare to escape ?
Well this was no ordinary penitentiary. It was the infamous dachau concentartion camp. Probably not as infamous as its bigger cousin, Auschwitz, where they mercilessly gassed thousands of jews, gypsies and commmies alike. Dachau was all ready to do murder enmasse but the Americans arrived in time.

So, how does one escape from this facility. Well you needed the standard escape kit.
Contents of the kit.
1. Compelling reason to escape - Life vs Death ..
2. Daring plan - digging underground tunnels perhaps
3. some strength - if you could steal a few breads from ur fellow jew
4. Whole lot of guts - definitely

So, doesnt sound very difficult. But NO. Only ONE guy escaped..!!!! and that too during the initial years of the camp around 1933.
You were broken down mentally, physically and emotionally at Dachau.

So your dreams of a Great Escape would remain as dreams.

The End

2008-06-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end of our elaborate plans
The end of ev'rything that stands
The end

Tucked away in a small grave in a large cemetary. Virtually unknown. No major epitaph. No fancy grafiti. Nothing as grand and eclectic as the man who lies beneath. I had the honor of paying my respects to the man, the legend.

A Tribute to one of the greatest men of our times - Jim Morrison

WINDFALL...!!!!!

2008-06-24T06:23:00.000-07:00

I don't believe it...!!!!

My daily fortune on the orkut page said that I will come into a large inheritance. and the thing is I did .. !!!
Someone in the laundry room had left a Box full of stuff saying "Take what you please ... !!!!" ....
At first I thought it would be some junk. But NO. It was an absolute treasure trove...!!!! Full of amazing stuff to eat.

Honey, Chocolate Sauce, Jams, basil, herbs, bolougniase sauce, other sauces, different types of coffee, Olive oil, the entire works...!!!!
and lurking just behind the Marmalade, was a jar full of my favourite NUTELLA .. !!!!

Reichstag

2008-06-19T07:19:00.000-07:00

The Reichstag in Berlin is the German equivalent of the Parliament in New Delhi. Or is it ?
In both places politicians sit and hanker over the pettiest of issues. The parliament has its own idiosyncracies like chair throwing and fun riots to break the monotony. Likewise, the Reichstag has its own idiosyncracy too. When the politicians are tired of bickering with each other, they just look up. And who do they see? Looking down upon them are the people. Certainly helps put things in perspective.

The story of Knut the polar bear

2008-06-17T09:53:00.000-07:00

There has been plenty of hype around Knut the polar bear. A brief introduction about Knut is in order. He was born in the Berlin zoo and rejected by his mother for unknown reasons. He grew up in captivity past infancy ,became a celebrity and the zoo earned truckloads of money of his accord. One look at him and it's obvious what shot him to stardom. There is a corner inside every human being that Knut manages to touch and we go "Awwwww....." . The thing is, he is one and a half years old now. A big shaggy polar bear and getting increasingly less cute day by day. But people still remember him as Knut, the polar bear that was cute. How peculiar, that stardom in the animal kingdom fades with age too.

Chaos Theory

2008-06-17T06:59:00.000-07:00

No.I am not referring to the butterfly effect. Nor am I making some abstruse allusion to Marshall and Lily's 'Olive theory'. None of that, sorry. It's simply an observation I have made off late that I have so arrogantly dubbed as a theory.
The theory essentially goes like this : "People DESIRE chaos"

It's not very apparent when you observe that mothers have a penchant for keeping homes neat and clean. Don't be deluded by this apparent aberration. The truth will not be revealed if you only scratch the surface, you need to dig deeper. Order and chaos have forever been battling for our attention though chaos always wins the war(Second Law of Thermodynamics). Nevertheless, why we choose one over the other at a given instant of time is very subjective. It depends on the context of the choice.
People choose order more out of necessity. It's good to find your car keys on top of the fridge every morning. It's good if there is no traffic on the way to work. It's good if things are just right. Just the way you planned them to be. That's because people think of the long run. Putting the keys in the right place tonight so that you can find them tomorrow morning is planning ahead. But if you start thinking of now and now alone, a lot of perspectives will change. The thrill of doing something chaotic, something rebellious is just too strong. I can describe Order as someone you get married to whereas Chaos is your paramour.

I had an interesting encounter with a young French guy. He was very happy to meet me, an Indian. He had been on an exchange program to IIM Calcutta. So I asked him what was the best thing he liked about Kolkata? His eyes glazed over as he recalled the fondest of his memories. He said, "Ze Chaos".

Rude Awakenings

2008-06-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

The Night train from Berlin to Paris is a lot like our Indian trains. There are cubicles for 6 people to sit. Those of you who have seen Eurotrip will recognize it as the one where Mr 'Miscuzzi' gets in. So in my cubicle there were only two people apart from me. A white French girl and a white Brazilian boy. There is a reason why I mention 'white' which will soon become apparent. The ticket checker had already come by and it was getting late. So we switched off the lights and drew the blinds. It had been a long day and I immediately fell sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was rudely awakened when a man walked into our cubicle and switched on the lights. It was guy from the 'Polizei' and he was asking us for our passports. He checked mine first and for the other two he just waved his hand and said "It's ok" and summarily left.
All done and I was ready to go back to sleep when I notice that the others were staring at me. The Brazilian looks at the French girl and says "I can't believe he just did that..!!" and then continues looking at me with a mixture of concern and disgust. But what did I do? The French girl then says "It's just not fair, this is discrimination". Then slowly it dawns on me that they were referring to the policeman. Sometimes you need foreigners to give you a rude awakening.

Homeless

2008-06-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

Majestic creatures should roam free. They command a respect that we humans are only obliged to fulfill. One look at this melancholy polar bear broke my heart. Looking at the world from behind a glass window begging to be taken away. All the little kids with their mums and dads pass by on the other side of the glass window. All he wants is a family that he can call his own. Not too much to ask for is it ?
A simple family ... that's all. Please take him away.

Le Pain

2008-06-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

'Pain' is bread in French, so as to clear all misconceptions. Pronounced as 'Paaaç' with a nasal intonation at the end.

Sitting next to me in the train was this old lady. The rich and sophisiticated types. She was dressed tip top and wore white gloves. The kind that golfers have. She emanated an air of aristocracy. I tried very hard not to look her way, but my eyes kept straying and I continued gazing upon her with awe. Then she took out this white handbag. Written on its side were the words 'GUCCI', the sides of which glistened with every motion. At this point I had shed all remnants of decency and was gaping at her without shame. Out from her bag came this object wrapped in white paper. Her hands(covered with white gloves) slowly unwrapped a piece of bread. She tore it from the side. I watched her chew the dry piece of bread. She did this again and again. No topping nothing. One dry piece of bread after another. I felt like I was peering into her life through a telescope. Dry, cold and emotionless.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

2008-06-11T06:26:00.001-07:00

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Edge of the world

2008-06-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

Standing at the edge of Europe. With the vast expanse of the Atlantic ocean behind me made me think of Douglas Adams and Lord Krishna. Queer combination. Let me explain. Yashoda had the celestial vision after looking into Krishna's mouth. Zaphod Beeblebrox survived the machine that showed him the entire universe. Like them, I too couldn't help but ponder about my place in the world. It's not very pleasant to feel tiny. A microscopic speck in this huge world. It's not just the open spaces that bothered me but the fact that time is fleeting. The Subhodeep of this moment is not the Subhodeep of the next.

Red

2008-06-09T08:06:00.000-07:00

"I was in no mood to move over. I love days like this. Rainy, dark and during that part of the monsoon where the rain is not a novelty. It just pours and pours as if to prove a point. I heard the school bus in the morning which means that there is still a good two hours to go before that brat comes back and starts tossing me around.
Oh won't she just shut up!! The old witch. Why doesnt she get it, I'm not moving, period.
............
............
Now she's crying. Disgusting.
............
............
I wonder what her problem is ? I just hope that she doesnt expect me to cuddle up to her and comfort her. I am in absolutely no mood to participate in all that drama. It's a different issue when I'm hungry.
............
............
...**Cough..**Cough***...
Damn Bird.
............
............
"

Apparely Cross

2008-06-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

My god what do they come up with ??? So while Patra and I were randomly roaming around Monaco we came across this little marvel. A crossword shoe or a shoe crossword ? The proud owner of this might be a little frustrated though. Crossword but no clues. Ouch that hurts. And even if the clues were there would he actually fill in the boxes? I wouldn't. It's too pretty.

P.S. Sorry, Dish. Had it been about €60 cheaper it would have been all yours... :( :(

Pop health

2008-06-05T06:44:00.000-07:00

Slimming, Weightloss, Low Cal, Diet Coke, Atkins Diet, 10 min workouts, tummy trimmer, sauna baths, liposuction, etc etc...What people wouldn't do for the perfect figure.

"Hey Anil, I didn't expect to see you at the gym."
"Been working on that 6 pack. Soon King Khan will be coming to me for advice... ha ha ha... !!!"

"Would you like some cake, dear ?"
"No thanks aunty, got to watch out for those nasty carbs you know..."
"Oh yes dear, I understand"

Ring a Bell? All too familiar snippets of chit chat?

I find that the 'fitness' part is missing for some reason. Somehow trimming down, looking beautiful, muscling up, etc seem to occupy the limelight. And if these primary motives are met maybe you become fit as a spinoff. An added advantage so to say. But, shouldn't all these ethereal things be added advantages from becoming fit. Isn't fitness the driving criteria ?

Grimness

2008-06-04T09:15:00.000-07:00

Sentimentalism has never taken the human race far. Hard decisions needed to be made and they were made. It's a jungle out there and you better have your animal instincts right. Fight if you can or better still run. Facing it head on is the noble thing to do. That's what everybody will tell you do. But when it stands in front of you. Looking at you with a cold gleam in its eyes. Not snarling. Just watching you. Whom are you kidding ??

Genus Eitiktikitabodopechonpaka

2008-06-03T10:13:00.000-07:00

Those of you who are fans of Samit Basu's work will know what I'm talking about. But for the uninitiated, all you need to know is that this gentle creature was once a God. A god called 'Unwaba'. He moves at a glacial pace but he knows exactly where to go. In fact he knows everything. Everything about the past, the present and the future. It's very annoying to have him around. He has a very bad habit of saying what you're going to say. Like a true Indian, I believe in white hair workship. All respect to the 'Unwaba' the grand old one.

Maradona - The Movie

2008-06-02T08:17:00.000-07:00

'Like the Gallagher brothers, Maradona's life has had its fair share of sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. Only more so. For with Diego you can add poverty, corruption, conspiracy, adultery and sainthood.' - Goal

I was supposed to spend Friday evening cooking. Not very exciting, I admit. But the evening turned out be different and a lot of fun. After a rapid decision, headed out to the city center. Had dinner at a Lebanese resturant(Mmmm... delicious) and then onto the cinemas to see 'Maradona' - A documentary by Emir Kusturica on the life and times of Diego Maradona. I didn't know this but Kusturica is supposed to be pretty famous in the movie circles. He's made trips to Cannes quite a few times. Coming back to Maradona, I would say he is revered as nothing less than a God in Argentina. I mean a true god, to the extent that there is a Diego religion and a church in his name. People get married by taking vows on a football...!!! Now beat that. He's a revolutionary at heart with the fires of Gadar running through his blood. Hates the US, hates UK and loves Fidel and Che. That's a lot of rebellion for one person. But his rise to greatness is almost as steep as his fall to shame. He has been blamed with cocaine abuse but he makes no qualms about his innocence.This is what he says on the issue 'If cocaine is a drug, then I am a drug addict) But for a god, forgiveness is guaranteed.

"Hand of God" . I had never heard of it before. But that was the goal that gave Argentina its world cup final. It is widely conjectured that Maradona punched the ball into the goal with his hand, a serious no no. For a god, all is acceptable. But the most extraordinary thing about Maradona is that he is a normal person. Just like you and me. The movie closed and I left with the image of not Maradona and his life but the Goal of the century by a God.

Alternate Lives ( Coming Attraction )

2008-06-02T07:50:00.000-07:00

We tend to doze off at particularly dull moments and imagine what it would be like if we had different lives. Not some minor change in another Parallel universe but really different. I mean really really different. Imagine what it would be like to be living in a different place at a different time and doing different things. You can be a superhero, a poet, a zookeeper, a revoutionary, a policeman.. whatever. The possibilities are infinite.
This is a teaser to an upcoming series of blogs titled 'Alternate Lives'. Your suggestions regarding any scenario is all too welcome.... :) :)

High Spirits

2008-05-30T03:09:00.000-07:00

When you start seeing three of everything, you know you've had too much. But does it always need to be this way? Cant one remain with a singular worldview yet feel like a Troika existed? This has been the great human experiment for a long time now. Do you think whenever caveman hunted a Sabretooth he would Trifork? Even if he were in an extremely delirious mood wouldn't he be worried about the Sabretooth's extended family paying him a visit? All considerations made I dont think anybody cares after the tipsing point.

Another Long Day...!!!

2008-05-29T09:02:00.000-07:00

Back in Junior school, I remember carefully looking at my watch to check whether it was past 12 in the afternoon or not. Wishing my teachers 'Good afternoon' and not 'Good Morning' was a big deal :) :) . That's nice. so we have'good morning', 'good afternoon' and 'good night'. All very nice. But what about 'Good Evening' ?? someone seems to have left the poor fellow behind. I dont think I've ever wished anyone good evening. Can't really blame me because there's not much of an evening anyway. Up until 5:30 the sun blazes and by 6:00 night starts to fall. A 30 minute window is too less. But bewarned, the higher latitudes you climb the more 'good afternoon' vanishes from your vocab and the more 'good evening' you use. Hmmmm..... did i wish anyone good afternoon in the past month ???

Sound of Silence

2008-05-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

Until some time back, 'the sound of silence' never really came across as anything worthwile other than the number by Simon n Garfunkel . But believe me it can be deafening....
At home and at college there is always some noise or the other. Be it cars honking, mom shouting at me, speakers blaring, dog barking,random curses in Hindi, whatever.... infinite noise. But when it all stops it can get ugly. Even the slightest rustle can seem like rocks falling. The sound of footsteps like an army marching. Every sound gets magnified a millionfold. You never knew that god had given you such a good ear. But the worst is when there is no noise at all. It starts with a small buzz in your inner ear. As you try to listen to it, it grow louder. Soon you start to get tensed and your breathing quickens. Now you hear a dull thumping noise but that's just your heart beating. At this point you can take it no more and you do whatever you can to make some noise........ but the noise is just fleeting.

Diaries of an Oenologist

2008-05-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

“What did you do in the vacations? “This question has a habit of creeping up on me nearly twice a year. In my case it is not what I did but where that matters. The vicissitudes of fate manage to cast me (rather unceremoniously) into a sleepy Indian town called Nasik every time NITT gives me a break. This is a very average town, with a very average outlook that continually regresses to the mean. The only exception to the triteness is that it is known as the wine capital of the country. The rolling vineyards and the picturesque countryside do tend to make me a bit chatty. Hence, I will present my discourse on wine making and wine tasting for the uninitiated.

Wine is an alcoholic beverage made from fermentation of grape juice. Wine is usually made from one or more varieties of the European species, Vitis vinifera. Wines are usually named either by their grape variety or by their place of production. Generally speaking, European wines are named both after the place of production (e.g. Bordeaux, Rioja, Chianti, Cotnari) and the grapes used (e.g. Pinot, Riesling, Chardonnay, Merlot). A vintage wine is one made from grapes that were all, or primarily, grown in a single specified year, and are accordingly dated as such.

Winemaking, or vinification, is the process of wine production, from the selection of grapes to the bottling of finished wine. Wine production can be generally classified into two categories: still wine production (without carbonation) and sparkling wine production (with carbonation). The science of wine and winemaking is known as oenology. After the harvest, the grapes are crushed and allowed to ferment. Red wine is made from the must (pulp) of red or black grapes that undergo fermentation together with the grape skins, while white wine is usually made by fermenting juice pressed from white grapes. During this primary fermentation, which often takes between one and two weeks, yeast converts most of the sugars in the grape juice into ethanol (alcohol). After the primary fermentation, the liquid is transferred to vessels for the secondary fermentation. Here, the remaining sugars are slowly converted into alcohol and the wine becomes clear. Of all factors affecting the quality of a wine, the quality of the grapes more than any other factor determines the quality of the wine. Their quality is not only affected by their variety, but also by the weather during the growing season, the soil, the time of harvest, and the way they are pruned.
Wines may be classified by their primary impression on the drinker's palate. They are made up of chemical compounds which are similar or identical to those in fruits, vegetables, and spices. The sweetness of wine is determined by the amount of residual sugar in the wine after fermentation, relative to the acidity present in the wine. Specific flavors may also be sensed, due to the highly complex mix of organic molecules such as esters and terpenes that grape juice and wine can contain.
Now you are ready to visit Nasik. Bon Aperitif…!!!!

Disclaimer: I wikishagged for most of this.

Fashionable Non Sense

2008-05-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

“Les cadavers exquis boiront le vin nouveau” – The exquisite cadavers shall drink the new wine
Pause for a moment and meditate upon the poetic beauty of this statement. Even if you are objectivity personified, it must still strike you as something out of the ordinary. This however is an example of words randomly strung together following the rudimentary rules of grammar. The point I’m trying to make is that randomly strung nonsensical words can sometimes make sense. But is the converse true? That intelligent sounding words logically strung together can sometimes turn out to be utter nonsense?

These are the words of Richard Dawkins:

“Suppose you are an intellectual impostor with nothing to say, but with strong ambitions to succeed in academic life, collect a coterie of reverent disciples and have students around the world anoint your pages with respectful yellow highlighter. What kind of literary style would you cultivate? Not a lucid one, surely, for clarity would expose your lack of content. The chances are that you would produce something like the following:

We can clearly see that there is no bi-univocal correspondence between linear signifying links or archi-writing, depending on the author, and this multireferential, multi-dimensional machinic catalysis. The symmetry of scale, the transversality, the pathic non-discursive character of their expansion: all these dimensions remove us from the logic of the excluded middle and reinforce us in our dismissal of the ontological binarism we criticised previously.

No doubt there exist thoughts so profound that most of us will not understand the language in which they are expressed. And no doubt there is also language designed to be unintelligible in order to conceal an absence of honest thought. But how are we to tell the difference? What if it really takes an expert eye to detect whether the emperor has clothes? In particular, how shall we know whether the modish French 'philosophy', whose disciples and exponents have all but taken over large sections of American academic life, is genuinely profound or the vacuous rhetoric of mountebanks and charlatans? “

So watch out the next time you spot the CEO of a company indulging in MBA type gobbledygook such as “ We look after out customer’s interests / the road ahead / our assets are our people / our vision / strategic plan / work ethics / we will be rewarded in the long run / etc…… “ . He might just be a quack.

Finally, some food for thought for all MBA aspirants.

Disclaimer : This is almost the same article that i wrote for pragyan times

Insert here

2008-05-21T09:16:00.000-07:00

An on-request blog... so it'll be quick, short, dirty and stinky...!!!

Our protagonist, call him Babel has a habit for translating things. He does so by eating frequencies from one language and excreting frequencies in another. Be it french, Swahili or Plutonium; babel is the man.So one day babel realised that too many people were free riding his skills. That is the day babel decided to charge for his services. And charge did he at the intergalactic rate of 1€/word translated. Babel was scared that people would cheat him so the only solution was to collect the money himself. He invented the simple system of insert here and translate. But where to insert?? The story so far has been quick and short, here is where it gets dirty and stinky.

Modern Art and me

2008-05-21T01:07:00.000-07:00

I can never really understand what modern art is …. Try as I might, I just can’t get beyond the fact that what may be art to some; is just some random lines and splashes of colors to me. I may seem hypercritical but that’s just the way I feel. Ok, for example can you please tell me why this thing is worth being put up in a museum …..?????? Maybe I can’t reach the higher dimension of thought but still…..

Nevertheless, there do come these brief ‘Oooohhhh…..!!!’ moments, when you suddenly see the tip of the iceberg of something very deep and significant. It is precisely these moments that make you realize the importance of art and creative expressionism. I was very happy when I got the opportunity to do so this time around. This came about as a chance encounter with Gaute Lusnegard, a happy Norwegian who accompanied me around Paris one afternoon. Yes, that’s him standing in front of the giant Spider.

We headed for the ‘Pompadeau musee’ which is a famous modern art museum in Paris. The place reeked of wackiness even before we entered it. There were some pretty crazy exhibits almost all of which made absolutely no sense to me. Luckily, the museum curator was nice and had put up fundae next to each exhibit. Even then it went tangent. Knowledge of Nietzsche or Munch would certainly help but not very much. One of the images that’ll forever remain embossed in my mind is that of a wax model. I wasn’t allowed to take a picture of it, but I’ll still describe it to you in some detail.

Imagine you are in a large hall. The walls are whitewashed and the room is well lit. Kneeling down and praying while facing away from you is a little boy dressed in formal attire. Let me remind you that you this is a wax model (like in Madame Tussauds), so it is almost perfect. You can’t see his face because he is facing away from you. So as you stroll around the room to see his face, it suddenly hits you. The face is not that of a little boy but that of a vicious Hitler. As you look directly into his eyes, you can almost feel the hatred and wrath emanating from it. While we are blasé about the holocaust in India, it a very delicate issue in Europe. Gaute was quite shocked when I told him I had read the Mein Kampf. Among the other German exhibits was a clip from the silent movie of Faust, the part with the three riders.

There were a few exhibits that were fairly obvious like this one with hundreds of scared faces that depicted the atom bomb on Hiroshima. Some plain weird such as the red rhino. Some that straddled the boundaries of art and science - the ‘optimal chair’ was developed by one of the Profs at INRIA (the place where I work). Starting from a solid block of wood, the program uses a Genetic Algorithm to reach an optimal way a chair should be designed. Strange shapes result as a consequence. It is one of those rare occasions when art and science are in harmony and one can glimpse the universal connectedness of all things. Hmmm… too philosophic.

On a lighter note let me leave you with my own contribution to modern art... :) :)

Thee

2008-05-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

Thee

I searched for thee, but I did not find thee
I found thee, but I did not recognise thee
I recognised thee, but I lost thee
I lost thee, but I love thee

I got joy with thee, but I wanted sorrow with thee
I got sorrow with thee, but I wanted pain with thee
I got pain with thee, but I wanted to hurt thee
I hurt thee, but I still love thee

I trusted thee, but I never judged thee
I judged thee, but I never doubted thee
I doubted thee, but I never blamed thee
I blamed thee, but I'll always love thee

I am far from thee, but I won't be without thee
I am without thee, but I won't miss thee
I miss thee, but I won't tell thee
I told thee, will you forgive me?

DENIED...!!!

2008-05-16T06:00:00.000-07:00

Out on a leg, bootlegging ???
Well that was our plan for friday night. The party starts late in this part of the world. So we start out just before midnight dressed in our finest attire and armed with all the promise that we could muster. Guiding us newbies is Kamaldeep bhaiyya, the very wizened one. Nevertheless, the Bretagne weather does not give two hoots about our nightly prowling schemes. It had rained sometime back and it looks like the heavens might burst anytime. That was the first omen as to what the night had in store for us....

First Stop, Guinness bar on the Rue de Soif(Street of Thirst). A place to have a jolly drink with friends and family with lots of smiles and pleasantries going around. I settle down with a Guinness(Irish beer) and I'm all aloof, trying to look cool(which I must remind you is very difficult for Indian engineers to fake). So far so good. But then when I least expect it and least desire it, it happens. The automatic euro to rupee conversion engine starts revving in my head. Drink spoilt, mood spoilt......

Heading on, we amble through the streets of Rennes at 1 in the night and reach our next destination. Second stop, "Pym discotheque".

At the entrance, stands a bouncer whose steely looks makes no qualms about the fact that he means business. I flash my laminated International student id card(purchased from STIC travels for 250 rupees) on his face. I expect his stern demeanour to vanish at the sight of it. Not Happening. So I ask him in broken French "Gratuit pour etudiant ?" (Free for student?) and then beam at him with my biggest smile. He just continues looking through me.... and then comes the dreaded "No, €10". DENIED....!! As we walk away from disc ,dreams of great wealth and grandeur start flooding me. :( :(

Anyway, Kamaldeep suggests we try a disco that IS free for students. So that brings us to our third and last stop, Cafe Musique.

At the door stands an acolyte. A big black one. He says something in French, the gist of which means "Get Lost"--- Tonight happens to be couple entry only. We all look at each other and we know what to do. Luckily,the Bretagne region in France has a skewed sex ratio in favor of the fairer sex. So all of us suddenly transform into casanovas. Gaurav strikes first with a French Indian chick, ;) . Strangely, the acolyte has a good memory and throws us out again... DENIED...!!!!

As we dejectedly head back to the hostel, all I want to do is sleep.

QWERTY vs Francais

2008-05-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

So, I have bravely entered the world of blogging. All hail the conquistador.. :P

In order to achieve this fair task I had to overcome many challenges. Sleep being one of the dampers. BUT none could ever come even mildly close to the .. to the... my GOD, I am petrified, mortified even stupefied to utter the Terror. So be afraid, be very afraid...!!!!! of the much feared.... "FRANCAIS KEYBOARD"...!!!!!

Huh?? what the hell is that?

Was this your reaction ?

well if it was consider yourself lucky... but dont be too sure of yourselves yet. You never know when it might unleash its deadly wrath on you.

For convenience and also so as to not inadvertantly spook you I will refer to the above mentioned trepidation as "FK" .Yes, it haunts me in my dreams as well. It comes alive with scary appendages and slime gills. I think it is better if I personify it.

I remember my first encounter with FK. She was sitting there ever so coyly, one might even say flirtatiously( she's french ), egging me on to come closer, closer, ya even closer. To touch her, to feel her, to run my fingers over her ebony skin. and then with my middle finger of my left hand at 14:00 hours GMT on 5th May 2008, I DID IT............

FK recoiled with her fangs bared...!!!

Aaaahhhhhh...!!!! What happened to A ????????? where is Q ??????? Oh my god where the hell is everything????

My world spun around me for a moment and my mind started racing. Is this a random permutation of the keys on the keyboard? if so what pseudo random number generator was used ? what are the total number of permutations that can exist? what is the probability? is it like one of CAT shock interviews with my prof watching ? Is it this... ? Is it that .... ? Vous Parles l'anglais ? NITT sux.. ? ... ? ... ? STOP STOP, I had to calm down ... !!!

many eons passed before I regained my senses.. and she was still sitting there with her sexy smile.

Here is a schematic of what exactly happened in contrast with what was supposed to happen...

and this has continued ever since..
Battles have been waged over 1234567890, @, !, % , ( ) and I can claim to have won some of them...
But I must say the war is far from over ...
My friends in their good faith have advised me to switch to QWERTY ...

But, as she sits there looking at me ever so shyly, I must say her smile does something to me.... ;)

Mon premier

2008-05-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

So i have been contemplating writing my first blog for about 5 years now. And i have been contemplating, contemplating, still contemplating.....
I'm not too sure if you will read this because I just might not finish writing this blog.

But to the rescue is "Blogger"... Now Blogger saves your drafts automatically!

So maybe I should write something more...
maybe it would help if I were not somnolent.

Nah, bugger it.

But let me remind you, a start is a start.