Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Monday, December 29, 2003
Saturday, December 27, 2003
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Bangalore traffic is rather painful. The drivers don't just care about what happens to the public and other drivers...everyone has only one motto, 'Do as you please'! Indiscriminate use of high beams on the city roads with the sole purpose of blinding the drivers in the opposite lane is their favourite passtime. Specially menacing are the auto-rickshaws.
Autos-drivers believe in treating the road equivalent to their bedrooms, they can do whatever they want. Specially when they are about to U-turn, god help the guy behind him. God was rather merciful to me day before yesterday given the fact that I still live to see another day! And when a staunch atheist like me gives credit to Mr. God, one can be sure the experience that I had was not particularly pleasant or rosy.
On the first occasion (there was more than one) I was happily driving down our lane at my usual speed of forty, along the left side of the road like a righteous law-abiding citizen. An auto was coming down the road from the other side. I looked into the auto but turned away disinterested since the passenger was not a good-looking girl. In fact it was not even a girl. Looking away was my mistake. The auto-driver noticed my apparent disinterest and swore revenge. He decided to U-turn and did. He bumped into the side of my bike with a resounding crash. It took me some fifty yards to stabilize myself and come to a halt. I got down and inspected my bike for damages. Aparently there were none. The auto stopped beside me. The driver got down and inspected his auto for damages. The front tyre guard was dented. The guy gave me a spine-chilling glance, stepped into his auto muttering all the time in kannada about life and how it was unfair, and drove away.
The second incidence came later in the day. Already jarred by an incident in the morning, this time I was driving much below my par speed. At the same time I was keeping a weary eye open for oncoming autos from opposite lane and their U-turning tendencies. I did not pay much attention to the auto in front of me. So this time this fellow decided to U-turn to the right. As he came right in front of me, I braked. The Thunderbird has wonderful brakes. I owe my life time and again to the disc brakes on the front wheel. And they saved me again this time. As I came to a screeching halt, the auto-driver heard me, paniced and stopped...right in front of me, so that I could no way avoid him. Well, as I said, the brakes saved me, and I stopped with an inch to spare. (Well, there was this problem in +2 Physics, if you come across an auto in the middle of the road with n metres to spare is it easier to turn or brake? Energy formulae somehow proved that it is easier to brake. I however had learnt the lesson the hard way, especially hard for my friend's car which I was driving, and which sported a scratched left headlight for many subsequent days.)
After that, for the rest of the day, I went about at 10 Kmph peak speed, with the belief firm in mind that I was destined to die an autocrashic death that day. No wonder I was particularly thankful towards my destiny for having let me see the light of another day!
Note: Another addition in the Favourites list, another close friend - another Anant!
Autos-drivers believe in treating the road equivalent to their bedrooms, they can do whatever they want. Specially when they are about to U-turn, god help the guy behind him. God was rather merciful to me day before yesterday given the fact that I still live to see another day! And when a staunch atheist like me gives credit to Mr. God, one can be sure the experience that I had was not particularly pleasant or rosy.
On the first occasion (there was more than one) I was happily driving down our lane at my usual speed of forty, along the left side of the road like a righteous law-abiding citizen. An auto was coming down the road from the other side. I looked into the auto but turned away disinterested since the passenger was not a good-looking girl. In fact it was not even a girl. Looking away was my mistake. The auto-driver noticed my apparent disinterest and swore revenge. He decided to U-turn and did. He bumped into the side of my bike with a resounding crash. It took me some fifty yards to stabilize myself and come to a halt. I got down and inspected my bike for damages. Aparently there were none. The auto stopped beside me. The driver got down and inspected his auto for damages. The front tyre guard was dented. The guy gave me a spine-chilling glance, stepped into his auto muttering all the time in kannada about life and how it was unfair, and drove away.
The second incidence came later in the day. Already jarred by an incident in the morning, this time I was driving much below my par speed. At the same time I was keeping a weary eye open for oncoming autos from opposite lane and their U-turning tendencies. I did not pay much attention to the auto in front of me. So this time this fellow decided to U-turn to the right. As he came right in front of me, I braked. The Thunderbird has wonderful brakes. I owe my life time and again to the disc brakes on the front wheel. And they saved me again this time. As I came to a screeching halt, the auto-driver heard me, paniced and stopped...right in front of me, so that I could no way avoid him. Well, as I said, the brakes saved me, and I stopped with an inch to spare. (Well, there was this problem in +2 Physics, if you come across an auto in the middle of the road with n metres to spare is it easier to turn or brake? Energy formulae somehow proved that it is easier to brake. I however had learnt the lesson the hard way, especially hard for my friend's car which I was driving, and which sported a scratched left headlight for many subsequent days.)
After that, for the rest of the day, I went about at 10 Kmph peak speed, with the belief firm in mind that I was destined to die an autocrashic death that day. No wonder I was particularly thankful towards my destiny for having let me see the light of another day!
Note: Another addition in the Favourites list, another close friend - another Anant!
It gives one this nice smug patronizing feeling when one introduces a friends' blog to bloganity. Few people have the priviledge, fewer still have it more than once.
She was among the first few friends I made when I came to Bangalore. She is among the closest of my friends now. She was the board topper in the Secondary exams. She was an accomplished badminton player, who used to play in the I-forgot-which level. She is not at all moody! She likes playing monopoly, scrabble, but hates playing carrom, chess. She is allegedly going about with another close friend of mine. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the community, the beautiful, charming, kind-hearted, helping, (ya, she is going to read this article!) Prerna.
She was among the first few friends I made when I came to Bangalore. She is among the closest of my friends now. She was the board topper in the Secondary exams. She was an accomplished badminton player, who used to play in the I-forgot-which level. She is not at all moody! She likes playing monopoly, scrabble, but hates playing carrom, chess. She is allegedly going about with another close friend of mine. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the community, the beautiful, charming, kind-hearted, helping, (ya, she is going to read this article!) Prerna.
Monday, December 22, 2003
I sometimes wonder, do I really love to write? There seem to be plenty of evidence indicating otherwise.
For those who take up writing as a passion, there can be no break. Whatever other engagements they might have, they always manage to find out time for writing. I, on the other hand, have abstained myself from writing because I was finding it difficult to manage all my different interests and still write.
I often get different ideas to write about. I have started writing hundreds of pieces, which promised to turn into novels and thrillers, but ended up unfinished (read just-started) manuscripts which only I will ever read, on some future date, and wonder, how I had planned to proceed with the story. Definitely not a trait to be seen among passionate writers.
Yesterday I started writing about our Manipal trip (we shouldn't call it a trip, at least in public, as Anant says.....it was supposed to be 3 months of rigorous training!) and finished about half of the first chapter. I stopped with an intention to continue later. I wonder when 'later' will be!
Anyway, with all these indications of not being a serious writer, as I return to the web-logger's world exactly four months (believe me, its only a coincidence) after I had stopped posting, I realise that I was indeed missing something I liked to do.
For those who take up writing as a passion, there can be no break. Whatever other engagements they might have, they always manage to find out time for writing. I, on the other hand, have abstained myself from writing because I was finding it difficult to manage all my different interests and still write.
I often get different ideas to write about. I have started writing hundreds of pieces, which promised to turn into novels and thrillers, but ended up unfinished (read just-started) manuscripts which only I will ever read, on some future date, and wonder, how I had planned to proceed with the story. Definitely not a trait to be seen among passionate writers.
Yesterday I started writing about our Manipal trip (we shouldn't call it a trip, at least in public, as Anant says.....it was supposed to be 3 months of rigorous training!) and finished about half of the first chapter. I stopped with an intention to continue later. I wonder when 'later' will be!
Anyway, with all these indications of not being a serious writer, as I return to the web-logger's world exactly four months (believe me, its only a coincidence) after I had stopped posting, I realise that I was indeed missing something I liked to do.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
People often talk about their culinary pursuits. How their first attempts went wrong. How the first omlette they cooked was scorched, and didn't have salt and yet tasted wonderful.
I cooked my first omlette this sunday. It tasted great. But surprisingly, it was neither scorched, nor did it have too much or too less salt. Okay, for the salt part of it, the credit goes to Anant, it was he who put the salt and chilli powder and raw egg and onions together, and produced the mixture. But it was me, who put oil in the frying pan, poured the mixture into it, turned it this way and that and switched off the gas right in time to get a perfectly fried omlette, not scorched, not overdone.
Of course there was a glitch. There had to be, I suppose. Being my first attempt, I didn't have any sense of proportion, and put too much of the mixture into the frying pan. As a result, while omlette was being formed in layers in the bottom, the top remained a mixture of raw yolk and onion. I tried to turn it upside down. The idea was to give all parts of it equal oppurtunities to cook, I am great believer in equality. Only, the egg had other ideas. It resolutely stood its ground and refused to overturn. What followed was an epic battle between me and the egg. Of course I won. I calmly finished the cooking, and gathered the pulverised remains of the egg on to a plate, and proceeded to eat it in triumph. So what if it was more of scrambled egg, than an omlete? It still tasted rather good.
I cooked my first omlette this sunday. It tasted great. But surprisingly, it was neither scorched, nor did it have too much or too less salt. Okay, for the salt part of it, the credit goes to Anant, it was he who put the salt and chilli powder and raw egg and onions together, and produced the mixture. But it was me, who put oil in the frying pan, poured the mixture into it, turned it this way and that and switched off the gas right in time to get a perfectly fried omlette, not scorched, not overdone.
Of course there was a glitch. There had to be, I suppose. Being my first attempt, I didn't have any sense of proportion, and put too much of the mixture into the frying pan. As a result, while omlette was being formed in layers in the bottom, the top remained a mixture of raw yolk and onion. I tried to turn it upside down. The idea was to give all parts of it equal oppurtunities to cook, I am great believer in equality. Only, the egg had other ideas. It resolutely stood its ground and refused to overturn. What followed was an epic battle between me and the egg. Of course I won. I calmly finished the cooking, and gathered the pulverised remains of the egg on to a plate, and proceeded to eat it in triumph. So what if it was more of scrambled egg, than an omlete? It still tasted rather good.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Cricket is my favourite game. I started my cricketing career when I was about ten. For the first few years, my cricketing exploits have been limitted to what is known as 'Gali Cricket', 'Para cricket', et al, where the rules of the game are strikingly different from the normal form of the game which we watch on tv. The rules include dismissals like 'one drop one hand', which signifies that if the ball is caught one handed after a single bounce after hiting the bat, the batsman is out. The other popular dismissal is when the ball crosses the boundary without pitching, or hits the wall directly, whichever may be the case depending on the field of play. While the former makes the game interesting, keeping the batsmen on their toes in an otherwise batsman friendly environment, the latter rule arises chiefly from necessity...it is difficult to find the ball if it goes too far. This is the case for smaller grounds, or where the playing area is confined to a small piece of flat land available between several surrounding houses.
Our 'field' conformed to the last description. All my cricketing antiques were limitted to this small lawn till I was sixteen. It was here that I was dubbed with the title of 'Jadeja' (then an upcoming star, and known for his brilliant fielding) mainly for the enthusiasm with which I dived around for the ball, irrespective of whether I stopped it ultimately, or not.
I started to play in the 'bigger arena' when I joined a new school for std XI. (My old school had neither a playground, nor XI or XII standards!) At once I began to discover my hidden talents. For one, I could bowl as fast as anyone else, probably faster. This pertinent fact failed to impress my playmates however, since I seldom finished the over in less than 15 deliveries. As a result, I was not considered the ideal bowler, the captain of the team would look up to, when faced with a situation of having to defend ten runs in the last over. As for batting, I developed my own style there. The field had a peculiar shape with the thirdman boundary being much closer than the rest. I found this fact to my advantage, since I could nudge and cut the ball through that region, using the bowlers pace, and score as fast as anyone else. At one point of time, my 'slip' shots became every bowlers nightmare, and everytime I came to bat the majority of fielders would be shifted to that region. In fact in the last match that I played in that ground, throughout my innings (of 2 balls) nine fielders where placed in the slip and thirdman region, with a lone fielder watching birds at the legside boundary. I still hit a boundary through those nine fielders, before getting out caught in one of their hands.
In college, I no longer found this kind of play advantageous. I started hitting over the bowlers head. During these days, I started paying more attention to my fielding. I was undoubtably the worst fielder in school, but managed to pull myself up to average in college. I had discovered one intriguing feature about my fielding quite early. While I could easily reach and hang on to overhead catches single-handed (that is with one hand), I invariably missed any high catch which I tried to take using both hands. This is still true.
I have played some cricket after joining the company I am in presently. Here, I was pleasantly surprised to find a lot of players, who are not much better than me.
The musings on cricket were triggered by an internal tournament which starts tomorrow. I feature in one of the teams from our group, as captain. The journey from 'Jadeja' in the small patch behind our house to captaining 'VRFAMouS' (We are famous / RF group and AMS group combined) has been quite eventful and full of highs and lows. It's rather pleasant to think back and remember all the interesting occurances that I have experienced in the course of this chequered career.
Our 'field' conformed to the last description. All my cricketing antiques were limitted to this small lawn till I was sixteen. It was here that I was dubbed with the title of 'Jadeja' (then an upcoming star, and known for his brilliant fielding) mainly for the enthusiasm with which I dived around for the ball, irrespective of whether I stopped it ultimately, or not.
I started to play in the 'bigger arena' when I joined a new school for std XI. (My old school had neither a playground, nor XI or XII standards!) At once I began to discover my hidden talents. For one, I could bowl as fast as anyone else, probably faster. This pertinent fact failed to impress my playmates however, since I seldom finished the over in less than 15 deliveries. As a result, I was not considered the ideal bowler, the captain of the team would look up to, when faced with a situation of having to defend ten runs in the last over. As for batting, I developed my own style there. The field had a peculiar shape with the thirdman boundary being much closer than the rest. I found this fact to my advantage, since I could nudge and cut the ball through that region, using the bowlers pace, and score as fast as anyone else. At one point of time, my 'slip' shots became every bowlers nightmare, and everytime I came to bat the majority of fielders would be shifted to that region. In fact in the last match that I played in that ground, throughout my innings (of 2 balls) nine fielders where placed in the slip and thirdman region, with a lone fielder watching birds at the legside boundary. I still hit a boundary through those nine fielders, before getting out caught in one of their hands.
In college, I no longer found this kind of play advantageous. I started hitting over the bowlers head. During these days, I started paying more attention to my fielding. I was undoubtably the worst fielder in school, but managed to pull myself up to average in college. I had discovered one intriguing feature about my fielding quite early. While I could easily reach and hang on to overhead catches single-handed (that is with one hand), I invariably missed any high catch which I tried to take using both hands. This is still true.
I have played some cricket after joining the company I am in presently. Here, I was pleasantly surprised to find a lot of players, who are not much better than me.
The musings on cricket were triggered by an internal tournament which starts tomorrow. I feature in one of the teams from our group, as captain. The journey from 'Jadeja' in the small patch behind our house to captaining 'VRFAMouS' (We are famous / RF group and AMS group combined) has been quite eventful and full of highs and lows. It's rather pleasant to think back and remember all the interesting occurances that I have experienced in the course of this chequered career.
Monday, July 14, 2003
There are busy days, and then there are days that are not so busy. I don't know what today was. I mean I have been doing something or other since morning. I have completed a lot of those small tasks, that you keep till the end, and then you don't find time for them, because you had thought that they would not take any time. Which was probably a correct assumption, except for the fact that there were so many of them, that together, they constituted a major time-consuming job. So I guess, I have done some work today.
But still, it seems unethical to classify today as a busy day. The work pressure that keeps you glued to the seat, makes your head spin occasionally, or flashes five or six of those 'tweety birds' in front of your eyes, going round and round and round in circles, was totally absent. I did all these tasks because I wanted to finish them off. But the project deadline is still some months off. I could have stopped any time I wanted, taken a coffee break at my leisure, without affecting anyone or any schedule.
Curiously, I didn't take a single break today except for the lunch break and half an hour in the evening to attend a small celebration to welcome the freshies who have joined the group this year. I sent very few mails compared to other days, and none of the ones that I sent were particularly long. Anyway, sending mails during analog design is not a major 'time-robber' since you get a lot of free time in between tweakings of the design, when simulations are running. I used those gaps to multiplex between different modules rather.
There is a certain current limitting circuit that I need to design. Somehow this particular circuit has been evading my control for a long time now. In the previous project also, I had given up halfway through, unable to conquer this mesh of transistors, and thought up a crude replacement which did the job. This time also, it seems, I'll have to do something of that kind. My initial attempts in the morning to get meaningful results from this block were futile. I gave up before lunch, and went over to some other block. I'll have to try and tackle this nagging block tomorrow.
An unremarkable day, not a busy one, with no adventure, but I get a nice smug feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. Some days are like that.
But still, it seems unethical to classify today as a busy day. The work pressure that keeps you glued to the seat, makes your head spin occasionally, or flashes five or six of those 'tweety birds' in front of your eyes, going round and round and round in circles, was totally absent. I did all these tasks because I wanted to finish them off. But the project deadline is still some months off. I could have stopped any time I wanted, taken a coffee break at my leisure, without affecting anyone or any schedule.
Curiously, I didn't take a single break today except for the lunch break and half an hour in the evening to attend a small celebration to welcome the freshies who have joined the group this year. I sent very few mails compared to other days, and none of the ones that I sent were particularly long. Anyway, sending mails during analog design is not a major 'time-robber' since you get a lot of free time in between tweakings of the design, when simulations are running. I used those gaps to multiplex between different modules rather.
There is a certain current limitting circuit that I need to design. Somehow this particular circuit has been evading my control for a long time now. In the previous project also, I had given up halfway through, unable to conquer this mesh of transistors, and thought up a crude replacement which did the job. This time also, it seems, I'll have to do something of that kind. My initial attempts in the morning to get meaningful results from this block were futile. I gave up before lunch, and went over to some other block. I'll have to try and tackle this nagging block tomorrow.
An unremarkable day, not a busy one, with no adventure, but I get a nice smug feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. Some days are like that.
Friday, July 11, 2003
I like to reach the Examination Hall at least an hour in advance for the examinations. It leaves me with enough time to take in the surroundings, be calm and comfortable, and get the feel of the place, before I start writing. I have always found the policy fruitful in all my school and college days. But everyone doesn't share my opinion.
Some people reach the Examination Hall just in time. They rush in in the last moment, barely seconds before the gong, snatch up the question and answer papers from the invigilators' desk, jump onto the alotted bench space, and immediately start scribbling the answers to question number one. I once had such a friend in school. In one particular examination, I had the dubious distinction of sharing the same bench with him. (We used to have 2-sitter benches back then.) On the day of the exam, I found him outside the school building, in his common pre-Exam state, sitting somewhere, holding a couple of exercise books in both honds. His mother stood next to him, holding one more book for him, and at the same time, fanning him with one of those hand fans made of bamboo. (It was somewhere around december, but then this fellow always used to be in a state of perpetual sweating!) His father was lurking around nearby, rummaging through his school bag, no doubt trying to find another book to hold in front of his eyes. I never could make out which book he was reading from at any moment, his eyes would just go from one to another at the speed of light. So I gave up, waved at him, (which he didn't notice) and went in.
I had settled down nicely, had a chat with my next bench neighbours behind me for a few minutes, then with those in front, then again with those in the back, and so on, till the teacher came in. Everyone became silent. The teacher took a glance around, eyes glaring, no doubt to convey the information about who was going to be the boss around there for the next three hours, satisfied herself that everyone had got the point, and then settled down heavily in her chair, which squeaked its protest. She grunted, pointing to the pile of answer scripts lying on her desk, and looked up at the ceiling with bored eyes. Again everyone got the point. We silently filed to her desk, picked up one paper each, and came back to our seats.
The first gong sounded. The assisstant invigilator (a certain lab assisstant by profession!) came in, carrying the bunch of question papers, and started distributing those. It was at this point of time that the teacher noticed that the space next to me was empty. She looked at me and enquired in a quiet voice, who the hell was the bugger, who was supposed to sit next to me. I meekly told her. She demanded to know where the hell that guy was, in a tone that convinced me that I was that guy's guardian and friend, philosopher and guide, all in one, and it was the most natural thing in the world for me to know where he was and why he was late. So I told her that he was outside, revising. The teacher gave me a cold look of disbelief and distaste, which would put all Aunt Agathas in the world to shame, and resumed her ceiling-staring.
Now it was my fault that I forgot about that incident in the tension of the moment. I should of course have remembered to keep an eye pointed at the door to welcome my benchmate. Had I done that, it would have saved me one torn page of the answerscript, and the hundreds of necessary explanations that came free with it. But like a fool, I didn't remember. In those days, we had to draw margins on all pages of the answer scripts. It was my habit to draw margins on all pages before starting any answer, and I was diligently doing the same, when the earthquake hit. For a brief shuddering moment, I didn't have any idea whether I was hanging from the ceiling, or walking on my hands. As things cleared down, and the layers of dust settled slowly, I drew in a breadth, and slowly peered around at the rest of the class, looking for casualties. Surprisingly, everyone appeared to be calm, and unaware of the debacle. It slowly dawned on me that it was the advent of my friend, that had caused the bench to shudder. I gave him a cold look of welcome, and went back to my line-drawing. The earthquake hit again, this time with more vigour. This time it took me less time to gather my wits and discover that my friend next to me was missing. He had got up to get his answer script. It was this second quake that caused my pencil to pierce through the paper, and result in the torn page alluded to above.
This time I was ready for him when he came back. I quickly removed the pen when he was about to sit, and avoided further damages. I sniggered at his forlorn expression, when he failed to harm me farther. I was under the impression that I was saved for the day, nothing more could go wrong. I was hopelessly wrong.
If you keep your answerscript on a clipboard, balance the combination resting on your thighs, and on the desk edge at forty five degrees, and scribble furiously with an aura of vengeance, the old wooden desks are bound to shake. I couldn't very well blame the desk for it. I gave up. I conceded defeat. I don't know how I managed to finish my own paper, or how I fared in that particular exam. I do remember that I requested for a separate seat for the rest of the papers, and was granted. But that one examination was an experience that I will not forget in a hurry.
Some people reach the Examination Hall just in time. They rush in in the last moment, barely seconds before the gong, snatch up the question and answer papers from the invigilators' desk, jump onto the alotted bench space, and immediately start scribbling the answers to question number one. I once had such a friend in school. In one particular examination, I had the dubious distinction of sharing the same bench with him. (We used to have 2-sitter benches back then.) On the day of the exam, I found him outside the school building, in his common pre-Exam state, sitting somewhere, holding a couple of exercise books in both honds. His mother stood next to him, holding one more book for him, and at the same time, fanning him with one of those hand fans made of bamboo. (It was somewhere around december, but then this fellow always used to be in a state of perpetual sweating!) His father was lurking around nearby, rummaging through his school bag, no doubt trying to find another book to hold in front of his eyes. I never could make out which book he was reading from at any moment, his eyes would just go from one to another at the speed of light. So I gave up, waved at him, (which he didn't notice) and went in.
I had settled down nicely, had a chat with my next bench neighbours behind me for a few minutes, then with those in front, then again with those in the back, and so on, till the teacher came in. Everyone became silent. The teacher took a glance around, eyes glaring, no doubt to convey the information about who was going to be the boss around there for the next three hours, satisfied herself that everyone had got the point, and then settled down heavily in her chair, which squeaked its protest. She grunted, pointing to the pile of answer scripts lying on her desk, and looked up at the ceiling with bored eyes. Again everyone got the point. We silently filed to her desk, picked up one paper each, and came back to our seats.
The first gong sounded. The assisstant invigilator (a certain lab assisstant by profession!) came in, carrying the bunch of question papers, and started distributing those. It was at this point of time that the teacher noticed that the space next to me was empty. She looked at me and enquired in a quiet voice, who the hell was the bugger, who was supposed to sit next to me. I meekly told her. She demanded to know where the hell that guy was, in a tone that convinced me that I was that guy's guardian and friend, philosopher and guide, all in one, and it was the most natural thing in the world for me to know where he was and why he was late. So I told her that he was outside, revising. The teacher gave me a cold look of disbelief and distaste, which would put all Aunt Agathas in the world to shame, and resumed her ceiling-staring.
Now it was my fault that I forgot about that incident in the tension of the moment. I should of course have remembered to keep an eye pointed at the door to welcome my benchmate. Had I done that, it would have saved me one torn page of the answerscript, and the hundreds of necessary explanations that came free with it. But like a fool, I didn't remember. In those days, we had to draw margins on all pages of the answer scripts. It was my habit to draw margins on all pages before starting any answer, and I was diligently doing the same, when the earthquake hit. For a brief shuddering moment, I didn't have any idea whether I was hanging from the ceiling, or walking on my hands. As things cleared down, and the layers of dust settled slowly, I drew in a breadth, and slowly peered around at the rest of the class, looking for casualties. Surprisingly, everyone appeared to be calm, and unaware of the debacle. It slowly dawned on me that it was the advent of my friend, that had caused the bench to shudder. I gave him a cold look of welcome, and went back to my line-drawing. The earthquake hit again, this time with more vigour. This time it took me less time to gather my wits and discover that my friend next to me was missing. He had got up to get his answer script. It was this second quake that caused my pencil to pierce through the paper, and result in the torn page alluded to above.
This time I was ready for him when he came back. I quickly removed the pen when he was about to sit, and avoided further damages. I sniggered at his forlorn expression, when he failed to harm me farther. I was under the impression that I was saved for the day, nothing more could go wrong. I was hopelessly wrong.
If you keep your answerscript on a clipboard, balance the combination resting on your thighs, and on the desk edge at forty five degrees, and scribble furiously with an aura of vengeance, the old wooden desks are bound to shake. I couldn't very well blame the desk for it. I gave up. I conceded defeat. I don't know how I managed to finish my own paper, or how I fared in that particular exam. I do remember that I requested for a separate seat for the rest of the papers, and was granted. But that one examination was an experience that I will not forget in a hurry.
Monday, July 07, 2003
Saturday, July 05, 2003
Friday, July 04, 2003
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Went to watch Jhankar Beats yesterday. Good movie, I liked it pretty much. Wanted to write about it. But then I changed my mind. Looking at the last few entries, the page was looking like a movie critics' site! Gives the wrong impression about my priorities...I hardly consider myself a passionate movie lover.
Sumeet remarked this morning that everyone should be passionate about something! In his words, what's the use of life, if you are not passionate about something! He seems to have a point there...having a passion in life does make a person feel worthy if you know what I mean!
I was thinking what I was passionate about! Certainly not movies or music, nor arts. I love computers, but can hardly be called passionate about computers! I may say story books are my passion. I go on reading all the time, you'll hardly find me with no books to read. It is true that the scope of my reading is limitted. I like novels, thrillers, detective stories and science fiction. I prefer light reading, and am fond of comedies. I can enjoy comics, I can also enjoy (to some extent) Shakespeare. Yes, books can be said to be my passion. And I like sports. I love participating in any and every game. I am hardly the best sportsperson ever, but I participate in all. Sort of Jack of all trades and all that. The only sport I was good at was athletics, 100m sprint to be precise, and that too I am no longer in a shape to be a winner any more. But I do love sports.
Sumeet remarked this morning that everyone should be passionate about something! In his words, what's the use of life, if you are not passionate about something! He seems to have a point there...having a passion in life does make a person feel worthy if you know what I mean!
I was thinking what I was passionate about! Certainly not movies or music, nor arts. I love computers, but can hardly be called passionate about computers! I may say story books are my passion. I go on reading all the time, you'll hardly find me with no books to read. It is true that the scope of my reading is limitted. I like novels, thrillers, detective stories and science fiction. I prefer light reading, and am fond of comedies. I can enjoy comics, I can also enjoy (to some extent) Shakespeare. Yes, books can be said to be my passion. And I like sports. I love participating in any and every game. I am hardly the best sportsperson ever, but I participate in all. Sort of Jack of all trades and all that. The only sport I was good at was athletics, 100m sprint to be precise, and that too I am no longer in a shape to be a winner any more. But I do love sports.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Had to share the beautiful Hoganekkal with my readers. I have uploaded some of the photos along with several others on the web. You can find them by clicking here.
By the way, the hit counter (at the bottom of the page) tells me the name of the referrer to my page for every hit. Just found that someone has chanced upon the page from a search for "free photos of bajaj pulsar" on google! Don't believe he found what he was looking for!
*P.S. Tried to post at midnight yesterday, but Blogger didn't allow me! Attempting again now.*
By the way, the hit counter (at the bottom of the page) tells me the name of the referrer to my page for every hit. Just found that someone has chanced upon the page from a search for "free photos of bajaj pulsar" on google! Don't believe he found what he was looking for!
*P.S. Tried to post at midnight yesterday, but Blogger didn't allow me! Attempting again now.*
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
I wanted to write about this sunday's expedition to the Hoganekkal Falls, but it seems Anant beat me to the post! Anyway, that will not deter me from posting my views also!
The place is about 180 Kilometers away from Bangalore (according to Qualis odometer reading) if you travel by National Highway 7 upto Dharmapuri on the way to Salem, before taking a right turn. Some websites however mention the distance as 150 KM, 120 KM, even 80 KM from Bangalore. (Clearly, the author of the final page was travelling by some old dilapidated vehicle, suitable to give competition to Richard Gordon's Hemorrhagic Hilda, with an odometer, which had given up, panting, halfway through!) We were supposed to start around 6 in the morning. We started at 7:30 as expected. There was a Qualis and an Ambassador. The latter had the priviledge of setting the journey time, being the slower of the two (it refused to go above 70 in the best of roads) and the other had to put a lot of fight to keep up (rather down) with it! We reched our destination around noon, after stopping for about half an hour in Dharmapuri for a breakfast of Plain dosa and Ghee roast (which turned out to be a roasted Plain Dosa). Nothing else was available.
The sole and principal attraction of the place at this time of the year is a boat ride along the Cauvery, near the waterfall, through a stream of placid water between banks of sheer rock, which, at places, go up as high as 50 feet. Several local kids show off by diving into the water from these heights, and ask for payment from the people in the boat as entertainment fees. At first site, the feats look unbelievably risky, and they probably are so. But these kids have grown up doing this only, and they don't care. I don't think, they ever pause to think what will happen if they miss a footing, or land in a wrong part of the water. And after collecting the money, they fearlessly scramble up the vertical rock face for next turn.
The boat themselves are unique. Calling these vessels 'boats' is really an overstatement! Rather they are large round baskets made of cane and plastic, with some black material (probably tar) coating the bottom. They look very fragile, but can carry eight to ten people effortlessly. And when not used, the owners just carry them around on their shoulders!
There were twelve of us, so we hired two boats. We first crossed a stretch of about twenty feet of smelly, muddy, shallow water with rocks popping up here and their. When we reached the other side of the pool, we proceeded on foot, while the boatmen carried their boats. Then the river cruise started. The boat first took us near the waterfall. The waterfall itself is not a big deal what with no rain and all, specially compared to its own self after the rainy season, when it is reputed to be miles wide! But there was enough water to get drenched if you are directly below, and thats were the boats took us! The boatman took us right next to the waterfall and rotated the boat, thus drenching all of us to the skin in the torrent of water pouring down from twenty feet above. Then we went for a gentle cruise along the stream. The scenery was beautiful and reminded me of the scenes from the movie 'Asoka' where Kareena Kapoor sings while taking a ride with a raftful of scantily clad women!
After about half an hour or forty minutes, we reached a sandy beach. The water there was only waste deep throughout. The boatmen set us loose to enjoy ourselves, and that we did! After quite a while of swimming and fooling around, it was decided to head back (by those of us who did not swim or fool around!) On this ride back home, our boatman unveiled yet another of his tricks from up his sleeve. He rotated the boat round and round at the same place at about five or more rpm!
There are quite a few stalls nearby selling all kinds of things including shorts and T-shirts. Several of us availed these services, and changed into new dry shorts before returning! There were also a few food stalls, but we did not try those out. On the way back, we had our lunch again at Dharmapuri, sometime before sunset! We reached home around eight in the evening, tired, wet (some of us) and content. The decision to go to Hoganekkal was not a wrong decision at all!
The place is about 180 Kilometers away from Bangalore (according to Qualis odometer reading) if you travel by National Highway 7 upto Dharmapuri on the way to Salem, before taking a right turn. Some websites however mention the distance as 150 KM, 120 KM, even 80 KM from Bangalore. (Clearly, the author of the final page was travelling by some old dilapidated vehicle, suitable to give competition to Richard Gordon's Hemorrhagic Hilda, with an odometer, which had given up, panting, halfway through!) We were supposed to start around 6 in the morning. We started at 7:30 as expected. There was a Qualis and an Ambassador. The latter had the priviledge of setting the journey time, being the slower of the two (it refused to go above 70 in the best of roads) and the other had to put a lot of fight to keep up (rather down) with it! We reched our destination around noon, after stopping for about half an hour in Dharmapuri for a breakfast of Plain dosa and Ghee roast (which turned out to be a roasted Plain Dosa). Nothing else was available.
The sole and principal attraction of the place at this time of the year is a boat ride along the Cauvery, near the waterfall, through a stream of placid water between banks of sheer rock, which, at places, go up as high as 50 feet. Several local kids show off by diving into the water from these heights, and ask for payment from the people in the boat as entertainment fees. At first site, the feats look unbelievably risky, and they probably are so. But these kids have grown up doing this only, and they don't care. I don't think, they ever pause to think what will happen if they miss a footing, or land in a wrong part of the water. And after collecting the money, they fearlessly scramble up the vertical rock face for next turn.
The boat themselves are unique. Calling these vessels 'boats' is really an overstatement! Rather they are large round baskets made of cane and plastic, with some black material (probably tar) coating the bottom. They look very fragile, but can carry eight to ten people effortlessly. And when not used, the owners just carry them around on their shoulders!
There were twelve of us, so we hired two boats. We first crossed a stretch of about twenty feet of smelly, muddy, shallow water with rocks popping up here and their. When we reached the other side of the pool, we proceeded on foot, while the boatmen carried their boats. Then the river cruise started. The boat first took us near the waterfall. The waterfall itself is not a big deal what with no rain and all, specially compared to its own self after the rainy season, when it is reputed to be miles wide! But there was enough water to get drenched if you are directly below, and thats were the boats took us! The boatman took us right next to the waterfall and rotated the boat, thus drenching all of us to the skin in the torrent of water pouring down from twenty feet above. Then we went for a gentle cruise along the stream. The scenery was beautiful and reminded me of the scenes from the movie 'Asoka' where Kareena Kapoor sings while taking a ride with a raftful of scantily clad women!
After about half an hour or forty minutes, we reached a sandy beach. The water there was only waste deep throughout. The boatmen set us loose to enjoy ourselves, and that we did! After quite a while of swimming and fooling around, it was decided to head back (by those of us who did not swim or fool around!) On this ride back home, our boatman unveiled yet another of his tricks from up his sleeve. He rotated the boat round and round at the same place at about five or more rpm!
There are quite a few stalls nearby selling all kinds of things including shorts and T-shirts. Several of us availed these services, and changed into new dry shorts before returning! There were also a few food stalls, but we did not try those out. On the way back, we had our lunch again at Dharmapuri, sometime before sunset! We reached home around eight in the evening, tired, wet (some of us) and content. The decision to go to Hoganekkal was not a wrong decision at all!
Monday, June 23, 2003
Most of my readers must have surely found mentions of him in quite a few of my posts. I have variously referred to him as Anant, Anant I and my roomie. He is the football pro I was talking about. He is also a great writer (also mentioned in one of my earlier posts). His short stories have been published in magazines, some editted, some intact! And he is my partner in cooking up the story, of which we plan to make a movie!
Some lesser known facts about him: He is a top graduate from IIT Madras in EE and working in the same company as I am. He takes interest in a variety of activities apart from writing and putting MOS transistors together. He is a connoisseur of good food, specially fish in all forms. He also claims to be an expert cook, although I am yet to taste any of his culinary creations. And a lot of other things.
Welcome Anant S. Kamath to the world of blogging!
Some lesser known facts about him: He is a top graduate from IIT Madras in EE and working in the same company as I am. He takes interest in a variety of activities apart from writing and putting MOS transistors together. He is a connoisseur of good food, specially fish in all forms. He also claims to be an expert cook, although I am yet to taste any of his culinary creations. And a lot of other things.
Welcome Anant S. Kamath to the world of blogging!
Saturday, June 21, 2003
Last post was too morbid! Have been feeling great since posting it!!
Watched Matrix Reloaded yesternight. Didn't like it. Some parts are good, but overall, it is no where close to its popular predecessor.
The enjoyable parts are the fight sequences. And there is plenty of that. May even be said that there is only that! The mind-boggling concepts and common-sense defying logic that enthralled the viewers in the first part, are totally absent. The Reloaded is a thing to watch, and get a kick out of the Out-Of-This-World action, and not something which provokes thought.
Enjoyed the bike ride part of it, and the fight on top of the speeding truck. Hated the ending. To be fair to the movie, there is no proper ending, it will be concluded in the next part. Overall, I enjoyed because I wanted to! Now, that is one correct observation made in he movie, if you want, you can do (almost) anything!
Watched Matrix Reloaded yesternight. Didn't like it. Some parts are good, but overall, it is no where close to its popular predecessor.
The enjoyable parts are the fight sequences. And there is plenty of that. May even be said that there is only that! The mind-boggling concepts and common-sense defying logic that enthralled the viewers in the first part, are totally absent. The Reloaded is a thing to watch, and get a kick out of the Out-Of-This-World action, and not something which provokes thought.
Enjoyed the bike ride part of it, and the fight on top of the speeding truck. Hated the ending. To be fair to the movie, there is no proper ending, it will be concluded in the next part. Overall, I enjoyed because I wanted to! Now, that is one correct observation made in he movie, if you want, you can do (almost) anything!
Have been feeling rather misanthropic since yesterday evening.
Is it because time and again my ideas are rejected because people are too indolent to move out of their inertia of rest?
Or is it because of the widespread 'herd' mentality which prevents people from giving an honest opinion of their own?
Or does it have something to do with the hidden deals which lurk out of every corner, any time you agree upon something with someone?
Is it because time and again my ideas are rejected because people are too indolent to move out of their inertia of rest?
Or is it because of the widespread 'herd' mentality which prevents people from giving an honest opinion of their own?
Or does it have something to do with the hidden deals which lurk out of every corner, any time you agree upon something with someone?
Thursday, June 19, 2003
We are having some technical training everyday from 10 in the morning to 3 in the afternoon. It started last monday and will go on for whole of this and next week. What with the new project about to start, it eats away a lot useful working time. Specially so because, I am in no mood to work beyond office hours right now, but would like to get started with the new designs before the official kick-off of the project. Of all this, what may be of interest to the readers is, the posts will become more irregular from now on, and dependant on how much work I have at that point of time. Also, I may not get to check all my favourite blog links at the same time, and may need to stagger my visits to the different pages.
Speaking of the training, I found a certain incident in today's class quite humorous. The professor from IIT Chennai, somewhere in the course of the lecture asked us a question. "Suppose we have an oscillator, comprising of two integrators and an inverter in a ring. What is the oscillator called?" We all chewed our pens and racked our brains for an answer. Some people came up with the names of some exotic oscillators. The professor just shook his head and smiled. "You surely know the name. Picture the oscillator. It consists of an integrator followed by another one, then an inverter, and finally, output connected back to input. What is it called?" More blank looks on our faces. Ultimately the professor gave us the answer. "Why, a double integrator oscillator!!"
Of course an oscillator with two integrators is a double integrator oscillator! A pointless answer to a pointless question! But then giving pointless answers can be fun. Remember the following conversation I had with Sumeet the other day. We were walking down a road in our main office campus. The road had been recently repaired, and there is a lot of white sand still left on the road.
Sumeet: What's this white stuff?
Me: Its sand.
Sumeet (giving me a How-Informative! kinda stare): Why is it here?
Me: So that people riding bikes slip and fall. (Noticed that the look on Sumeet's face had intensified and decided that he wanted more explanation.) Its like this, the road-makers want people to spend more time on their road. So this is their way to bring people down, and lie about a bit.
I really enjoyed the look on Sumeet's face! Giving meaningless answers to questions can be fun!!
Speaking of the training, I found a certain incident in today's class quite humorous. The professor from IIT Chennai, somewhere in the course of the lecture asked us a question. "Suppose we have an oscillator, comprising of two integrators and an inverter in a ring. What is the oscillator called?" We all chewed our pens and racked our brains for an answer. Some people came up with the names of some exotic oscillators. The professor just shook his head and smiled. "You surely know the name. Picture the oscillator. It consists of an integrator followed by another one, then an inverter, and finally, output connected back to input. What is it called?" More blank looks on our faces. Ultimately the professor gave us the answer. "Why, a double integrator oscillator!!"
Of course an oscillator with two integrators is a double integrator oscillator! A pointless answer to a pointless question! But then giving pointless answers can be fun. Remember the following conversation I had with Sumeet the other day. We were walking down a road in our main office campus. The road had been recently repaired, and there is a lot of white sand still left on the road.
Sumeet: What's this white stuff?
Me: Its sand.
Sumeet (giving me a How-Informative! kinda stare): Why is it here?
Me: So that people riding bikes slip and fall. (Noticed that the look on Sumeet's face had intensified and decided that he wanted more explanation.) Its like this, the road-makers want people to spend more time on their road. So this is their way to bring people down, and lie about a bit.
I really enjoyed the look on Sumeet's face! Giving meaningless answers to questions can be fun!!
YESTERDAY!!!
Quote of the day:
Will find that out in 1 milli second....that takes about half an hour. - Sumeet.
PJ of the day:
How can you wear swimming trunks? They are swimming! - Again Sumeet, the birthday boy.
Excerpt of the day:
"Then I decided that there were two or three volumes on subjects like public health and biochemistry that a rising surgeon could do without. Later I unashamedly took the lot, one after the other, to the second-hand medical bookshop in Gower Street, saying at every meal a grace to its provider. Whitby and Britton's Disorders of the Blood gave only bacon and eggs and coffee in a teashop; but Price's Text-book of the Practice of Medicine was much more nutritous, and ran to tomato soup, steak and chips, a pint of beer, and apple tart. I saved up Gray's Anatomy for my birthday, and when I at last carried The Encyclopaedia of Surgical Practice downstairs I booked a table at Scott's. - Richard Gordon, DOCTOR at large.
Lessons learnt (a few days back):
The burnt child fears the Engine Exhaust Pipe!
Quote of the day:
Will find that out in 1 milli second....that takes about half an hour. - Sumeet.
PJ of the day:
How can you wear swimming trunks? They are swimming! - Again Sumeet, the birthday boy.
Excerpt of the day:
"Then I decided that there were two or three volumes on subjects like public health and biochemistry that a rising surgeon could do without. Later I unashamedly took the lot, one after the other, to the second-hand medical bookshop in Gower Street, saying at every meal a grace to its provider. Whitby and Britton's Disorders of the Blood gave only bacon and eggs and coffee in a teashop; but Price's Text-book of the Practice of Medicine was much more nutritous, and ran to tomato soup, steak and chips, a pint of beer, and apple tart. I saved up Gray's Anatomy for my birthday, and when I at last carried The Encyclopaedia of Surgical Practice downstairs I booked a table at Scott's. - Richard Gordon, DOCTOR at large.
Lessons learnt (a few days back):
The burnt child fears the Engine Exhaust Pipe!
Monday, June 16, 2003
How does one spend the weekend effectively? A very important question, one that most of us face all the time. The answer is different for everyone. The key lies in the interpretation of the word 'effective'. The ultimate aim is that you shouldn't feel afterwards, "I should have done this..." or worse "I shouldn't have wasted time doing this..."!!!
Probably the most popular way to spend the weekend is to do nothing! We had a personal effectiveness seminar a few days back, in which the point was raised that there should be some time kept aside in our lives, when we should just be. The question asked was, "Are we human beings or human doings!!!" A nice point nicely made! The problem with that is, we do it all the time. I mean we 'be' all the time, every weekend! After spending weekend after weekend doing nothing but sleeping till late and watching TV, one does crave to do something different!
The other most popular weekend activity is to hang out in one of those popular hangouts that every city has (like M G Road here in Bangalore). And believe me, that too can become boring after hanging out a few times! So what do you do then?
One fallback option (for those who love to write) is to spend more time on the blog! Or write stories. My roomie is a good writers, and when he feels bored on the weekends, we are blessed with some great short stories to read in the weeks to follow. I have also tried my hand at writing. I am not that good, but I enjoy writing. But the problem is that I do not like short stories. So I start long ones, with intentions of churning out novels and thrillers. Only, I generally do not go beyond the first few pages. I have several such unfinished stories on my comp.
One can occasionally go places on weekends. It could be a long trip involving three nights and two days. Or it could be a one day episode where you drive over to some place close by, spend some time there and come back refreshed. It involves some amount of planning, but is really enjoyable, if done once in a while.
One bright idea that I had was to make a movie! Not a 10 crore budget Yash Chopra saga or anything! Just a zero budget thing, which we ourselves would write the script for, direct, act, edit, and....don't know what we will do after that, but this is enough to keep us busy for quite a few weekends! The idea was received enthusiastically by Anant (my roomie) and a few others. Me and Anant, we had decided that we will come up with the story, script and all, and then tell the others. But when we failed to come up with any good storyline that satisfied both of us for a couple of months, we decided to involve the others in the project from that moment on. But the thing did not take off. Others were not all that enthusiastic as I was, and interest fizzled out after one meeting.
I still keep hopes to take up the project again some time. I had even started writing the script for a particular story that I had thought of. But this project also had the same fate as all other of my literary endeavours! The first two acts have been waiting for months now for the third act to be created!
Probably the most popular way to spend the weekend is to do nothing! We had a personal effectiveness seminar a few days back, in which the point was raised that there should be some time kept aside in our lives, when we should just be. The question asked was, "Are we human beings or human doings!!!" A nice point nicely made! The problem with that is, we do it all the time. I mean we 'be' all the time, every weekend! After spending weekend after weekend doing nothing but sleeping till late and watching TV, one does crave to do something different!
The other most popular weekend activity is to hang out in one of those popular hangouts that every city has (like M G Road here in Bangalore). And believe me, that too can become boring after hanging out a few times! So what do you do then?
One fallback option (for those who love to write) is to spend more time on the blog! Or write stories. My roomie is a good writers, and when he feels bored on the weekends, we are blessed with some great short stories to read in the weeks to follow. I have also tried my hand at writing. I am not that good, but I enjoy writing. But the problem is that I do not like short stories. So I start long ones, with intentions of churning out novels and thrillers. Only, I generally do not go beyond the first few pages. I have several such unfinished stories on my comp.
One can occasionally go places on weekends. It could be a long trip involving three nights and two days. Or it could be a one day episode where you drive over to some place close by, spend some time there and come back refreshed. It involves some amount of planning, but is really enjoyable, if done once in a while.
One bright idea that I had was to make a movie! Not a 10 crore budget Yash Chopra saga or anything! Just a zero budget thing, which we ourselves would write the script for, direct, act, edit, and....don't know what we will do after that, but this is enough to keep us busy for quite a few weekends! The idea was received enthusiastically by Anant (my roomie) and a few others. Me and Anant, we had decided that we will come up with the story, script and all, and then tell the others. But when we failed to come up with any good storyline that satisfied both of us for a couple of months, we decided to involve the others in the project from that moment on. But the thing did not take off. Others were not all that enthusiastic as I was, and interest fizzled out after one meeting.
I still keep hopes to take up the project again some time. I had even started writing the script for a particular story that I had thought of. But this project also had the same fate as all other of my literary endeavours! The first two acts have been waiting for months now for the third act to be created!
Friday, June 13, 2003
Sumeet says he doesn't enjoy these 3 day trips so much, specially the first two weeks and the last two weeks of each!!
The first two weeks are the time we spend on planning for the trip. As is the case when many people are involved (9/10 in our case), there are different and clashing opinions, and it does take some time to iron out these differences. The last two weeks are when everyone orders copies of the photos taken. Putting together everyone's demands and distributing the copies afterwards do take a lot of time. I do not mind these two plus two weeks myself. Planning is fun (except for the arguments part)! Also, all these signify something different from the normal daily activities and it also feels good to meet up and spend some time together, with all the different remarks from everyone about the photos, and remembering all the moments!
This weekend all the comps at the office are going to be shut down for some upgradation work. This starts at 6:00pm today and will go on up to 6:00pm on Sunday. The significance of this is that we cannot check mail, or do any work in the office for that time. Also, everyone will be leaving office very early today. (To digress, this also means, I will be away from the BlogWorld for the two days.) Taking the oppurtunity, I proposed that we go somewhere this weekend (another one of those 2/3 day trips).
The earlier trips have included visits to Koorg which is a district in Karnataka, and a trip to Waynad, which is a district in Kerala. There are usually about nine or ten of us. However, it seems that a few of us have other appointments to keep this weekend. Koushik has to spend some time with his parents. Ashish, Tonmoy, Prerna and Anant II will be hunting for houses to shift to. Anant I (my roomie) will be
going to Mysore with his parents. Swapna also is tied down on Saturday, as she has to be there for her cousin's birthday.
So we changed the plans. We will be going for the trip next weekend. (As Sumeet points out, comps don't need to be shut down for us to go somewhere on weekends!) As for this weekend, few of us will be going to Mysore on Sunday (one day trip). The house hunters may join in if they are lucky on Saturday itself!
Places of interest in Mysore are the water theme park, Brindavan gardens and the palace under lights. Some of us are not so interested in the first, while for me that is the most attractive of the three. Also, I proposed that we go there on bikes, but it seems that I may be voted down on that matter!
We haven't had a single meeting on the proposed 2 day trip yet. I foresee several sessions of deliberations on that matter in the evenings in the coming week. Any suggestions from all my readers (still very few!) are welcome.
P.S. Info about our trip to Koorg is available somewhere in the archives of Sumeet's blog. The trip was in the first half of December, 2002. Some snaps from the Waynad trip are available here.
The first two weeks are the time we spend on planning for the trip. As is the case when many people are involved (9/10 in our case), there are different and clashing opinions, and it does take some time to iron out these differences. The last two weeks are when everyone orders copies of the photos taken. Putting together everyone's demands and distributing the copies afterwards do take a lot of time. I do not mind these two plus two weeks myself. Planning is fun (except for the arguments part)! Also, all these signify something different from the normal daily activities and it also feels good to meet up and spend some time together, with all the different remarks from everyone about the photos, and remembering all the moments!
This weekend all the comps at the office are going to be shut down for some upgradation work. This starts at 6:00pm today and will go on up to 6:00pm on Sunday. The significance of this is that we cannot check mail, or do any work in the office for that time. Also, everyone will be leaving office very early today. (To digress, this also means, I will be away from the BlogWorld for the two days.) Taking the oppurtunity, I proposed that we go somewhere this weekend (another one of those 2/3 day trips).
The earlier trips have included visits to Koorg which is a district in Karnataka, and a trip to Waynad, which is a district in Kerala. There are usually about nine or ten of us. However, it seems that a few of us have other appointments to keep this weekend. Koushik has to spend some time with his parents. Ashish, Tonmoy, Prerna and Anant II will be hunting for houses to shift to. Anant I (my roomie) will be
going to Mysore with his parents. Swapna also is tied down on Saturday, as she has to be there for her cousin's birthday.
So we changed the plans. We will be going for the trip next weekend. (As Sumeet points out, comps don't need to be shut down for us to go somewhere on weekends!) As for this weekend, few of us will be going to Mysore on Sunday (one day trip). The house hunters may join in if they are lucky on Saturday itself!
Places of interest in Mysore are the water theme park, Brindavan gardens and the palace under lights. Some of us are not so interested in the first, while for me that is the most attractive of the three. Also, I proposed that we go there on bikes, but it seems that I may be voted down on that matter!
We haven't had a single meeting on the proposed 2 day trip yet. I foresee several sessions of deliberations on that matter in the evenings in the coming week. Any suggestions from all my readers (still very few!) are welcome.
P.S. Info about our trip to Koorg is available somewhere in the archives of Sumeet's blog. The trip was in the first half of December, 2002. Some snaps from the Waynad trip are available here.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Congratulations to Sarika on being the 100th visitor to my blog.
Have reached 3 figure mark at last!!!
(Won't mention how many of the hits are mine!)
Have reached 3 figure mark at last!!!
(Won't mention how many of the hits are mine!)
Monday, June 09, 2003
Sarika's anti-ant antiques reminds me of some more down-to-earth problems
that we are facing with representatives of the crawling creatures clan! To put in a nutshell, the earthly problem that we are facing is that earthworms have started making excursions out of the bathroom drains, and taking sight-seeing tours of the bedroom next to it.
Now, when we signed up the agreement to move into this new house, we frankly expected to share the house between the two of us, and not have to entertain guests on a daily (or rather nightly) basis! And specially when the guests are of the slimy, spineless variety, who prefer wriggling around the floor, their visits are particularly unwelcome. I suppose everyone will agree to me on this count.
After spotting the first specimen of the species, we did plan a counter attack against the worms. We armed ourselves with phenyle and some bleaching powder (which had been thoughtfully left behind by the previous tenants, or so we thought), we proceeded to wage war against the worms with zeal. I was slightly surprised when I discovered that the bleaching powder lacked the familiar odour of chlorine, but nevertheles continued to apply the same to the drain. Only, I discovered, it was not actually bleaching powder, but lime (chuna) that I was using!!
Meanwhile, the steady flow of the earthly molluscs (thats what they are, i suppose? My biology is a bit rusty!) continued with a small change. The worms still came out of the hole but, started to die off once they reached outside. Maybe it was the phenyle which caused their untimely demise, without having any oppurtunity to relay their plight to their peers and warning them!
It was at this point that our land lord stepped in, followed by an intrepid plumber with a bag of cement and a hammer. They dug up the drain cover, found a circular cavity around the side wall, and proclaimed that this was the source of the onslaught! They cemented up the hole, put the cover back and instructed us not to use the bathroom for half an hour, an instruction we abided to the letter.
Alas. All the efforts went down the drain. Or rather, the cement did, and it clogged it proper. As a result, we now had not only worms crawling out of the hole, but also water flowing back!! Fortunately our landlord returned with another member of the plumbing community, who dug up whatever the previous guy had left behind!
One problem was solved...the water now flows out without any further dissent. But the ughhly worms still continue their nightly misadventures! Any suggestions what to do?
that we are facing with representatives of the crawling creatures clan! To put in a nutshell, the earthly problem that we are facing is that earthworms have started making excursions out of the bathroom drains, and taking sight-seeing tours of the bedroom next to it.
Now, when we signed up the agreement to move into this new house, we frankly expected to share the house between the two of us, and not have to entertain guests on a daily (or rather nightly) basis! And specially when the guests are of the slimy, spineless variety, who prefer wriggling around the floor, their visits are particularly unwelcome. I suppose everyone will agree to me on this count.
After spotting the first specimen of the species, we did plan a counter attack against the worms. We armed ourselves with phenyle and some bleaching powder (which had been thoughtfully left behind by the previous tenants, or so we thought), we proceeded to wage war against the worms with zeal. I was slightly surprised when I discovered that the bleaching powder lacked the familiar odour of chlorine, but nevertheles continued to apply the same to the drain. Only, I discovered, it was not actually bleaching powder, but lime (chuna) that I was using!!
Meanwhile, the steady flow of the earthly molluscs (thats what they are, i suppose? My biology is a bit rusty!) continued with a small change. The worms still came out of the hole but, started to die off once they reached outside. Maybe it was the phenyle which caused their untimely demise, without having any oppurtunity to relay their plight to their peers and warning them!
It was at this point that our land lord stepped in, followed by an intrepid plumber with a bag of cement and a hammer. They dug up the drain cover, found a circular cavity around the side wall, and proclaimed that this was the source of the onslaught! They cemented up the hole, put the cover back and instructed us not to use the bathroom for half an hour, an instruction we abided to the letter.
Alas. All the efforts went down the drain. Or rather, the cement did, and it clogged it proper. As a result, we now had not only worms crawling out of the hole, but also water flowing back!! Fortunately our landlord returned with another member of the plumbing community, who dug up whatever the previous guy had left behind!
One problem was solved...the water now flows out without any further dissent. But the ughhly worms still continue their nightly misadventures! Any suggestions what to do?
Saturday, June 07, 2003
The match was supposed to start at eight in the morning.I woke up at 7:30. Which was surprising given the fact that I had gone to bed after 1:30 in the morning after X Men 2 night show, and a movie on Action channel after that. Anant was already up, so was Koushik, who had stayed over with us after the night show. We were all set by 7:50. Several conversations with Ashish on the mobile and we knew that he was coming, so was the other Anant (Tonmoy's roommate). Tonmoy himself has been indisposed following a leg injury from a minor bike incident a couple of weeks back. A quick call to Sumeet K. and he was also coming. We gathered up Ankur Saboo's brother, and made our way to the field. Ankur declined the offer to join us, but promised to come over in some time, if only to watch us play.
We started at 8:30. Only half an hour late, by our standards, that was nothing. There were seven of us to start with and we divided the teams with Ashish, Anant II and Gaurav on one side and Anant I, Koushik, Sumeet and me on the other. However, Ankur came over and joined in on Ashish's side before we started.
The first part of the game was really energetic, and as usual, Anant I and Ashish made their presence felt above the others in no time. Anant II wasn't bad either. The first twenty minutes or so saw a lot of scurrying around, false and ambitous shots going meters over the goal and plenty of ups and downs, the later including Sumeet's downfall!! It was Ashish, I believe, with whom Sumeet collided, and hurt his nose. In fact, there was some blood shed also.
At this juncture, the players took a welcome two minutes break, before resuming without Sumeet. He however showed his grit, and joined in soon, sore nose and all. It was at this point that the opponents (Ashish and Co.) started gaining some ground. They came perilously close to the goal on quite a few times, and it took all the defense's cunning to fend of Ashish's repeated attacks. We however had the first real chance to score, when Anant I's shot went inches above the goal (the goal was about 10 inches high, a stone bench really!) It was then that Ashish and Anant II's foxy maneuvres paid off and they scored, partly helped by a lapse in the defense.
However we did not give up at this minor setback. We pressed on hard, and slowly, the game took a turn our way. After a few more failed attempts, at last we scored, when Anant I's shot from a pass from Koushik scraped the top of the bench before rolling out. As per predecided rules, it was a legal goal. At this point of time, the players decided that they had had enough for one day. Time was called in a mood of mutual tolerance, and a sense of equality.
The two Anants and Ashish were undoubtably the best players. Ankur also came up with some fine display of footballing skills towards the end. (We were short of one pair of boots and Ankur had played the major portion of the match in his slippers!) readers may have noted that I haven't mentioned any of my own contributions, but that is hardly surprising. Footballing skills is not exactly what I advertise in my bio-data, and I generally do not like to mention my contributions to the game, since they usually are favourable to the opponents! Well, you just got a golden hint about a particular lapse in the defense mentioned somewhere earlier. No prizes for correct guesses about it!!!
We started at 8:30. Only half an hour late, by our standards, that was nothing. There were seven of us to start with and we divided the teams with Ashish, Anant II and Gaurav on one side and Anant I, Koushik, Sumeet and me on the other. However, Ankur came over and joined in on Ashish's side before we started.
The first part of the game was really energetic, and as usual, Anant I and Ashish made their presence felt above the others in no time. Anant II wasn't bad either. The first twenty minutes or so saw a lot of scurrying around, false and ambitous shots going meters over the goal and plenty of ups and downs, the later including Sumeet's downfall!! It was Ashish, I believe, with whom Sumeet collided, and hurt his nose. In fact, there was some blood shed also.
At this juncture, the players took a welcome two minutes break, before resuming without Sumeet. He however showed his grit, and joined in soon, sore nose and all. It was at this point that the opponents (Ashish and Co.) started gaining some ground. They came perilously close to the goal on quite a few times, and it took all the defense's cunning to fend of Ashish's repeated attacks. We however had the first real chance to score, when Anant I's shot went inches above the goal (the goal was about 10 inches high, a stone bench really!) It was then that Ashish and Anant II's foxy maneuvres paid off and they scored, partly helped by a lapse in the defense.
However we did not give up at this minor setback. We pressed on hard, and slowly, the game took a turn our way. After a few more failed attempts, at last we scored, when Anant I's shot from a pass from Koushik scraped the top of the bench before rolling out. As per predecided rules, it was a legal goal. At this point of time, the players decided that they had had enough for one day. Time was called in a mood of mutual tolerance, and a sense of equality.
The two Anants and Ashish were undoubtably the best players. Ankur also came up with some fine display of footballing skills towards the end. (We were short of one pair of boots and Ankur had played the major portion of the match in his slippers!) readers may have noted that I haven't mentioned any of my own contributions, but that is hardly surprising. Footballing skills is not exactly what I advertise in my bio-data, and I generally do not like to mention my contributions to the game, since they usually are favourable to the opponents! Well, you just got a golden hint about a particular lapse in the defense mentioned somewhere earlier. No prizes for correct guesses about it!!!
Thursday, May 29, 2003
Of the many pieces of papers that I found while emptying our old house was a memo that Nitin Dhingra had given me when we were preparing for a stage show that we 'New Hires' staged when we first joined TI. It was a list of who was in charge of what during the program. Nitin himself was the overall leader by virtue of being the first person to volunteer for the post. The memo read something like this. In italics are the comments I am adding now.
1. Overall Leader: Nitin Dhingra, Sumeet Kulkarni
Sumeet Kulkarni! Our own Sumeet! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this. I didn't know him then, now that I know him so well, it seems unthinkable that he volunteered!
2. Compare: Gaurav Thereja
He did a god job of it, one must admit.
3. Skit: Tanmay, Prerna
Tonmoy was the director by common choice, he also appeared in one brief role (one scene no dialogues) so did I! Prerna was probably the only female character, so I suppose she could be called the heroine!
4. Poem: Vikas
I missed it somehow, I don't remember where I was. I later heard it was quite good.
5. Invitations: Vasudha
6. Memetos: Gautam, Raman
I can't place these guys.
7. PA System, Lighting: Somsundar
This, inspite of my attempts to correct the spelling of my name umpteen times, all of which Nitin shrugged off with a 'what's in a name' smile on his face!
8. Dinner: Gaurav Arora
I was surprised Lokesh and Aarti's dance was not mentioned. That was one of the biggest successes of the event.
1. Overall Leader: Nitin Dhingra, Sumeet Kulkarni
Sumeet Kulkarni! Our own Sumeet! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this. I didn't know him then, now that I know him so well, it seems unthinkable that he volunteered!
2. Compare: Gaurav Thereja
He did a god job of it, one must admit.
3. Skit: Tanmay, Prerna
Tonmoy was the director by common choice, he also appeared in one brief role (one scene no dialogues) so did I! Prerna was probably the only female character, so I suppose she could be called the heroine!
4. Poem: Vikas
I missed it somehow, I don't remember where I was. I later heard it was quite good.
5. Invitations: Vasudha
6. Memetos: Gautam, Raman
I can't place these guys.
7. PA System, Lighting: Somsundar
This, inspite of my attempts to correct the spelling of my name umpteen times, all of which Nitin shrugged off with a 'what's in a name' smile on his face!
8. Dinner: Gaurav Arora
I was surprised Lokesh and Aarti's dance was not mentioned. That was one of the biggest successes of the event.
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Packing
Ultimately we decided to shift today itself. We reached the decision by 10:30 in the morning (15 minutes after i woke up). The next two hours were spent in retrieving all our belongings from all possible corners of the house and putting them into the bags and suitcases. We thought we would run out of bags to carry things, there was so much of junk to carry, until I discovered one
extra bag!
Turning the house upside down has its advantages. For one, you get to find all sorts of things which you least expected. Some old possessions which you had long ago given up as dead and gone. Some things which you never knew that you had. Some old papers that reminded you of some incidents of the past. And money. Discovering money that you didn't think you had is the most thrilling of all. It doesn't happen all that many times to me though. I do occasionally find one or two ten buck notes from pockets of shirts kept away for laundry. My friend Anant is an expert in this matter. He generally keeps on finding five hundred buck notes from here and there, now and then! The max I have gone up to was when my mother found a hundred rupees note from the pocket of a jeans, all washed and dried up!!
I didn't discover any money today, except for a single 50 paise coin. I did find one unexpected bag inside an expected one. One handkerchief and a pair of socks, which I had given up all hopes for. One brand new Reynolds Jetter pen, still packed in the original cover. And lots and lots of paper. I have this habit of not junking paper when I should. As a result I keep on finding old papers representing old times that I love going through again!
Ultimately we decided to shift today itself. We reached the decision by 10:30 in the morning (15 minutes after i woke up). The next two hours were spent in retrieving all our belongings from all possible corners of the house and putting them into the bags and suitcases. We thought we would run out of bags to carry things, there was so much of junk to carry, until I discovered one
extra bag!
Turning the house upside down has its advantages. For one, you get to find all sorts of things which you least expected. Some old possessions which you had long ago given up as dead and gone. Some things which you never knew that you had. Some old papers that reminded you of some incidents of the past. And money. Discovering money that you didn't think you had is the most thrilling of all. It doesn't happen all that many times to me though. I do occasionally find one or two ten buck notes from pockets of shirts kept away for laundry. My friend Anant is an expert in this matter. He generally keeps on finding five hundred buck notes from here and there, now and then! The max I have gone up to was when my mother found a hundred rupees note from the pocket of a jeans, all washed and dried up!!
I didn't discover any money today, except for a single 50 paise coin. I did find one unexpected bag inside an expected one. One handkerchief and a pair of socks, which I had given up all hopes for. One brand new Reynolds Jetter pen, still packed in the original cover. And lots and lots of paper. I have this habit of not junking paper when I should. As a result I keep on finding old papers representing old times that I love going through again!
Saturday, May 17, 2003
"In every man's heart, there is a faraway place. Where he can leave the grind
and chatter of the city far behind. Where time is measured in sunsets, not
deadlines. Where the sweetest music is the steady thumping beat of his iron
horse. Where the only thing that changes for days is your state of mind.
You won't find this place on any map, chart or tourist guide. Because the only
destination in this journey is the horizon. And the only real way to get there
is on the Thunderbird, the new thoroughbred cruiser from Royal Enfield.
....The new Royal Enfield Thunderbird. Get on and get away."
The call came at around 6:15PM. "Sir, do you want us to fit a guard in front?"
On the affirmative reply, "What time will you come to take it away, sir?" Half
an hour later was decided on mutual consent.
I went to the showroom with Tonmoy, on his Pulsar. Before entering, we could see
the 'purplish blue' beauty waiting outside, all ready for me to get on and get
away. There were a couple of forms to fill, information to go back to the
manufacturers in Chennai. A couple of signatures here and there. A helmet for
800 odd bucks to match with the machine. Then he took the key and we came out to
inspect the bike.
He showed me how to fiddle around with the controls...headlights, dimmer, horn,
indicators, choke, fuel tap and the lot. He showed me the tool kit which came
free with the bike, the firstaid kit, the battery. Then he handed over the key
to me. It was mine. With a couple of friendly instructions from the shop owner,
we parted on amicable terms, Tonmoy on his Pulsar, plunging into the city
traffic with utter contempt, and me on my new Royal Enfield Thunderbird, with a
slight tremor in my heart, but mind soaring on cloud nine.
and chatter of the city far behind. Where time is measured in sunsets, not
deadlines. Where the sweetest music is the steady thumping beat of his iron
horse. Where the only thing that changes for days is your state of mind.
You won't find this place on any map, chart or tourist guide. Because the only
destination in this journey is the horizon. And the only real way to get there
is on the Thunderbird, the new thoroughbred cruiser from Royal Enfield.
....The new Royal Enfield Thunderbird. Get on and get away."
The call came at around 6:15PM. "Sir, do you want us to fit a guard in front?"
On the affirmative reply, "What time will you come to take it away, sir?" Half
an hour later was decided on mutual consent.
I went to the showroom with Tonmoy, on his Pulsar. Before entering, we could see
the 'purplish blue' beauty waiting outside, all ready for me to get on and get
away. There were a couple of forms to fill, information to go back to the
manufacturers in Chennai. A couple of signatures here and there. A helmet for
800 odd bucks to match with the machine. Then he took the key and we came out to
inspect the bike.
He showed me how to fiddle around with the controls...headlights, dimmer, horn,
indicators, choke, fuel tap and the lot. He showed me the tool kit which came
free with the bike, the firstaid kit, the battery. Then he handed over the key
to me. It was mine. With a couple of friendly instructions from the shop owner,
we parted on amicable terms, Tonmoy on his Pulsar, plunging into the city
traffic with utter contempt, and me on my new Royal Enfield Thunderbird, with a
slight tremor in my heart, but mind soaring on cloud nine.
Saturday, May 10, 2003
It's a full twenty hours since I activated the commenting system for my blog, and
yet not a single comment so far! What may be the reason for this seemingly utter
disregard of my creative talents?
Possibility 1: No one likes me.
Possibility 2: No one likes my blog.
Possibility 3: No one could send comments because of some problem in backBlog.
Possibility 4: Some evil hacker considers me to be his utter enemy, and removed
all comments from my blog.
Possibility 5: Some evil god changed the minds of everyone who wanted to post
comments!
Possibility 6: Some demonic forces are conspiring against me and prevents my
server from showing the comments, when I try to see them.
Possibility 7: There is a bug in the HTTProtocol, which prevents comments from
being posted in my blog.
Possibility 8: No one knows about my blog.
Being intelligent as I am, I of course know which is the right answer! No sweat,
I will put things right very soon.
Evil hacker, here I come!!!
yet not a single comment so far! What may be the reason for this seemingly utter
disregard of my creative talents?
Possibility 1: No one likes me.
Possibility 2: No one likes my blog.
Possibility 3: No one could send comments because of some problem in backBlog.
Possibility 4: Some evil hacker considers me to be his utter enemy, and removed
all comments from my blog.
Possibility 5: Some evil god changed the minds of everyone who wanted to post
comments!
Possibility 6: Some demonic forces are conspiring against me and prevents my
server from showing the comments, when I try to see them.
Possibility 7: There is a bug in the HTTProtocol, which prevents comments from
being posted in my blog.
Possibility 8: No one knows about my blog.
Being intelligent as I am, I of course know which is the right answer! No sweat,
I will put things right very soon.
Evil hacker, here I come!!!
Friday, May 09, 2003
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
At last I am a certified bachelor.
No, I don’t mean that I have found the girl of my dreams and am out to prove that I am marriage-worthy, nor do I mean that the government has started handing out certificates proving that people are indeed bachelors (similar to the ‘certificate of joblessness’ that we all received before the campus interviews, to prevent people getting two jobs, while others didn’t have one!).
What I mean is that I went over to my University yesterday and received my degree certificate proclaiming that I was a Bachelor of Electronics and Tele-Communication Engineering from Jadavpur University.
I didn’t expect to get the certificate in one attempt (one attempt to collect it from the examination office that is). We are here speaking of Jadavpur University, famous for its enviable abilities of making any ten-minute official work take one week at the least. When I started out in the morning, I told my parents, I should get the certificate by friday. I had to because I am going back to Bangalore next week.
I reached the JU administrative (Aurobindo Bhavan) at around twelve thirty. Without any prior experience of collecting degree certificates, I was at a loss about whom to approach about it. But I quickly made up my mind and entered the outer office of the Assistant Controller of Examinations. A friendly clerk asked my what the hell I was doing there. I told him. He gently informed me that I had come to the wrong place, and I should take a form from ‘that’ counter (he pointed it out to me), pay the fees, and take with some ‘madam’ (I didn’t get the name) in the examinations office.
So I walked over to the counter. There was a small queue of about nine, ten guys and girls, collecting the exam forms. (Ya, we had to fill u forms and pay some fees to be eligible to sit for the exams.) The old man sitting at the counter slowly dealt with each person, elaborately studying the fee-books that they had to present, laboriously picking up the forms, putting n number of stamps here and there, before handing out the forms. My turn came in about half an hour, and the person in the counter gave me a white form and told me to hurry to the cash counters before they were closed.
I glanced at my watch. It was fifteen minutes past one. The counter closed at two. I quickly made my way to stand in the cash queue behind thirty odd students, who conscientiously did their pre-exam duty much ahead of the semester exams. We usually did it in the last week, when the queues consisted of about a couple of hundred students, and we ‘had to’ bunk a couple of lectures to be eligible to write the exams, answering questions on the same topics that were discussed in the classes we had to bunk! Anyway, when I was nearing the counter, in another fifteen minutes time that is, the cashier declared that the counter was closed for newcomers. He quickly collected all the forms from those who were already in the queue, did the necessary paper work, called out names one by one, and gave away the receipts. When my turn came, he suddenly decided that I was getting away too easily, and conjured up a new form for me to fill. Ultimately I was the last person to be served in that counter yesterday, and at two o’clock I jubilantly emerged from the counters holding a half-filled form and a receipt.
I made my way towards the examination office incredulously, finding it rather hard to believe that I had finished all the paper work already, it was only two! I couldn’t find madam X at her seats, and asked the person sitting at the next table what I should do. At this point of time, a large procession of JU staff members came marching down the corridor carrying red flags and chanting slogans. Suddenly I started feeling rather nostalgic. What was JU, I thought, without all these slogans and protests and hunger strikes! Madam X’s friend, who had been looking at the form for the whole length of time while these protestants were protesting against god knows what! As they made their way back to from where they were coming, this guy informed me that madam X was among those in the procession, and can be expected back at her seat sometime in the afternoon. However, he informed me that I needed to go to the Muster Roll section and get a signature verifying that I indeed lived where I claimed to, first.
The KMR section is on the second floor of a different building. As I made my way to this new destination, I saw that several of those protestants had spread out mattresses on the corridor and were sitting down, chatting with each other. I came to know that they were demanding pay hike.
The doors of the KMR section were closed when I came there. I peered in through a window and spotted a white haired old man sitting nearby, eating rice and vegetables from a tiffin-carrier. I showed him my form and asked him what I should do about it. He told me that it was mid-day break, and I would have to come back after three.
When I came back at three, after having met my professors and juniors, and having told each and every one of them individually, why I had cut my hair so short (hair-cuts are too costly in Bangalore to indulge in very often, specially compared to Calcutta!) I found that the KMR section was empty. Or at least it appeared empty in the first glance. Looking carefully for the second time, I perceived a young man sitting in a corner and reading the newspaper. I approached him, and expressed my desire to get the signature in the form. He looked at me over his thin reading glasses and told me, nothing doing, no one was around, and he was not going to go through the record books and verify my address. He asked me to come back at six. I meekly told him that I had a rather busy schedule (when you come home for one week, you will be lucky if you get even one relatives-free hour that you can enjoy with your family or alone.) He looked me over once and then said, “Come tomorrow”. I lied that I was going back to Bangalore today. Grumbling, he stood up, elaborately folded the newspaper, and ambled towards a desk which had a lot of fat registers, muttering to himself all the time “Why do these blokes need the certificates!” and so on. After half an hours diligent digging, he ultimately unearthed the desired book from under a huge pile, and opened it. He took a look at the address recorded, and comparing it with that on the form, declared, “You have given the wrong address!” It took me another half an hour to convince him that I did actually live where I said, and someone must have made a mistake in recording it in his books. Ultimately he put his signature on the piece of paper, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I came back to the exams office. Madam X was still not there. The guy at the next table took the form, and told me, “Now go and get a signature from your HOD, that you are indeed from the Dept you claim to be from.” Now, why he couldn’t have told me earlier, I do not know, but I again trudged back to my Department building to find that the professor was not in his office. “He has come I the morning, but I do not know where he is right now.” The guy sitting outside told me. I made another round of the building, not to find him anywhere. Everyone I met seemed to have seen him sometime in the morning, somewhere or other, but no one knew where he was now. Ultimately, I cornered the great man sneaking into a lift, no doubt with an intention to elude me, so that I again had to come next day.
I had to wait only another half an hour before Madam X emerged from a ‘meeting’ with the controller of examinations regarding some lost files, before I could approach her with a filled form demanding that I be given my degree certificates. She asked me to sign at some ten or twelve different places agreeing to all kinds of things regarding my birth, education, upbringing and what not. Then she opened a steel wardrobe and ultimately handed me the coveted treasure.
I came home triumphantly, gloating about my victories of the day…after all I was now a certified bachelor.
No, I don’t mean that I have found the girl of my dreams and am out to prove that I am marriage-worthy, nor do I mean that the government has started handing out certificates proving that people are indeed bachelors (similar to the ‘certificate of joblessness’ that we all received before the campus interviews, to prevent people getting two jobs, while others didn’t have one!).
What I mean is that I went over to my University yesterday and received my degree certificate proclaiming that I was a Bachelor of Electronics and Tele-Communication Engineering from Jadavpur University.
I didn’t expect to get the certificate in one attempt (one attempt to collect it from the examination office that is). We are here speaking of Jadavpur University, famous for its enviable abilities of making any ten-minute official work take one week at the least. When I started out in the morning, I told my parents, I should get the certificate by friday. I had to because I am going back to Bangalore next week.
I reached the JU administrative (Aurobindo Bhavan) at around twelve thirty. Without any prior experience of collecting degree certificates, I was at a loss about whom to approach about it. But I quickly made up my mind and entered the outer office of the Assistant Controller of Examinations. A friendly clerk asked my what the hell I was doing there. I told him. He gently informed me that I had come to the wrong place, and I should take a form from ‘that’ counter (he pointed it out to me), pay the fees, and take with some ‘madam’ (I didn’t get the name) in the examinations office.
So I walked over to the counter. There was a small queue of about nine, ten guys and girls, collecting the exam forms. (Ya, we had to fill u forms and pay some fees to be eligible to sit for the exams.) The old man sitting at the counter slowly dealt with each person, elaborately studying the fee-books that they had to present, laboriously picking up the forms, putting n number of stamps here and there, before handing out the forms. My turn came in about half an hour, and the person in the counter gave me a white form and told me to hurry to the cash counters before they were closed.
I glanced at my watch. It was fifteen minutes past one. The counter closed at two. I quickly made my way to stand in the cash queue behind thirty odd students, who conscientiously did their pre-exam duty much ahead of the semester exams. We usually did it in the last week, when the queues consisted of about a couple of hundred students, and we ‘had to’ bunk a couple of lectures to be eligible to write the exams, answering questions on the same topics that were discussed in the classes we had to bunk! Anyway, when I was nearing the counter, in another fifteen minutes time that is, the cashier declared that the counter was closed for newcomers. He quickly collected all the forms from those who were already in the queue, did the necessary paper work, called out names one by one, and gave away the receipts. When my turn came, he suddenly decided that I was getting away too easily, and conjured up a new form for me to fill. Ultimately I was the last person to be served in that counter yesterday, and at two o’clock I jubilantly emerged from the counters holding a half-filled form and a receipt.
I made my way towards the examination office incredulously, finding it rather hard to believe that I had finished all the paper work already, it was only two! I couldn’t find madam X at her seats, and asked the person sitting at the next table what I should do. At this point of time, a large procession of JU staff members came marching down the corridor carrying red flags and chanting slogans. Suddenly I started feeling rather nostalgic. What was JU, I thought, without all these slogans and protests and hunger strikes! Madam X’s friend, who had been looking at the form for the whole length of time while these protestants were protesting against god knows what! As they made their way back to from where they were coming, this guy informed me that madam X was among those in the procession, and can be expected back at her seat sometime in the afternoon. However, he informed me that I needed to go to the Muster Roll section and get a signature verifying that I indeed lived where I claimed to, first.
The KMR section is on the second floor of a different building. As I made my way to this new destination, I saw that several of those protestants had spread out mattresses on the corridor and were sitting down, chatting with each other. I came to know that they were demanding pay hike.
The doors of the KMR section were closed when I came there. I peered in through a window and spotted a white haired old man sitting nearby, eating rice and vegetables from a tiffin-carrier. I showed him my form and asked him what I should do about it. He told me that it was mid-day break, and I would have to come back after three.
When I came back at three, after having met my professors and juniors, and having told each and every one of them individually, why I had cut my hair so short (hair-cuts are too costly in Bangalore to indulge in very often, specially compared to Calcutta!) I found that the KMR section was empty. Or at least it appeared empty in the first glance. Looking carefully for the second time, I perceived a young man sitting in a corner and reading the newspaper. I approached him, and expressed my desire to get the signature in the form. He looked at me over his thin reading glasses and told me, nothing doing, no one was around, and he was not going to go through the record books and verify my address. He asked me to come back at six. I meekly told him that I had a rather busy schedule (when you come home for one week, you will be lucky if you get even one relatives-free hour that you can enjoy with your family or alone.) He looked me over once and then said, “Come tomorrow”. I lied that I was going back to Bangalore today. Grumbling, he stood up, elaborately folded the newspaper, and ambled towards a desk which had a lot of fat registers, muttering to himself all the time “Why do these blokes need the certificates!” and so on. After half an hours diligent digging, he ultimately unearthed the desired book from under a huge pile, and opened it. He took a look at the address recorded, and comparing it with that on the form, declared, “You have given the wrong address!” It took me another half an hour to convince him that I did actually live where I said, and someone must have made a mistake in recording it in his books. Ultimately he put his signature on the piece of paper, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I came back to the exams office. Madam X was still not there. The guy at the next table took the form, and told me, “Now go and get a signature from your HOD, that you are indeed from the Dept you claim to be from.” Now, why he couldn’t have told me earlier, I do not know, but I again trudged back to my Department building to find that the professor was not in his office. “He has come I the morning, but I do not know where he is right now.” The guy sitting outside told me. I made another round of the building, not to find him anywhere. Everyone I met seemed to have seen him sometime in the morning, somewhere or other, but no one knew where he was now. Ultimately, I cornered the great man sneaking into a lift, no doubt with an intention to elude me, so that I again had to come next day.
I had to wait only another half an hour before Madam X emerged from a ‘meeting’ with the controller of examinations regarding some lost files, before I could approach her with a filled form demanding that I be given my degree certificates. She asked me to sign at some ten or twelve different places agreeing to all kinds of things regarding my birth, education, upbringing and what not. Then she opened a steel wardrobe and ultimately handed me the coveted treasure.
I came home triumphantly, gloating about my victories of the day…after all I was now a certified bachelor.
Saturday, March 08, 2003
WAY TO GO...
(Part V)
I do not know, how I got out of the situation with shattered nerves but no
shattered bones. Looking back, I now realise, there were two things that saved
me. Firstly, I was probably doing much over forty at that instant (fear lends
wings, and I was going down the slope). Secondly, the triangular shape of
the auto when you look from the top left enough space to scrape through even
when its front wheels had come upto the bus.
There has of course been some small unimportant incidents like the time I
crashed into a wall because I didn't turn right where the road did, or the time
when I wanted to avoid the potholes on the way, and chose to hit the fence
instead, but these are minor incidents, and too many to recall, or relate.
I haven't rode only bicycles all my life, I have taken my turns at other peoples
motorbikes and cars as well. Maybe I can write about those experiences some
other day.
(Part V)
I do not know, how I got out of the situation with shattered nerves but no
shattered bones. Looking back, I now realise, there were two things that saved
me. Firstly, I was probably doing much over forty at that instant (fear lends
wings, and I was going down the slope). Secondly, the triangular shape of
the auto when you look from the top left enough space to scrape through even
when its front wheels had come upto the bus.
There has of course been some small unimportant incidents like the time I
crashed into a wall because I didn't turn right where the road did, or the time
when I wanted to avoid the potholes on the way, and chose to hit the fence
instead, but these are minor incidents, and too many to recall, or relate.
I haven't rode only bicycles all my life, I have taken my turns at other peoples
motorbikes and cars as well. Maybe I can write about those experiences some
other day.
WAY TO GO...
(Part IV)
Day before yesterday, I was about half an hour late for office. I always am
half an hour late for office. Day before yesterday was no different. I had just
taken my cycle out of the basement garage and started on the way to the office.
Now the lane on which our house is is not too wide. Cars and bikes are often
parked on one side of the road, leaving very little space. On this particular
morning, as I was cycling merrily down the lane, I saw this big school bus
parked up front, uploading or downloading a few school kids. There was just
sufficient space for an auto or a bicycle to pass the bus, but definitely not
enough for both. I took the right lane (the narrow space available to the right
side of the bus or rather the wrong side of the bus) and charted my flight plan
overtaking the stationary bus. Nothing great to it, overtaking a bus which is
stationary is no big deal to cycling stalwarts like me. At this juncture I
noticed the auto rickshaw coming from the other side. As I said, the space
available in the road was not enough for the both of us. It was a matter of
either I existed or he did...and in case of a crash, its anyone's guess, whose
existance one could safely place bets on!
No sweat, I said to myself, and speeded up. I could cross the bus before the
auto came close enough. Now this particular auto driver seemed to have some kind
of macho streak in him. I don't know whether he was an avid fan of Street Hawk,
or modelled himself in the lines of the Knight Rider, but he chose this
particular moment to put his three wheeled beast into the fourth gear and surge
forward with a malicious grin on his face. I paniced. I was already abreast the
big bus, and there was no stopping now. I was moving at about 40 kilometers per
hour, speeds that cycles should never attain, and I had to pass the bus and
swerve left in the split second, before the auto came up. I calmly took in the
situation (of course I am kidding) and gathered that there was still a chance
that I could make my way out of the fix in one piece. The bus driver, who was
looking disdainfully out of his window, read my mind. He took it upon himself to
decide that things were not interesting enough, and started his bus. The small
gap between the auto and the bus started closing in further...
(Part IV)
Day before yesterday, I was about half an hour late for office. I always am
half an hour late for office. Day before yesterday was no different. I had just
taken my cycle out of the basement garage and started on the way to the office.
Now the lane on which our house is is not too wide. Cars and bikes are often
parked on one side of the road, leaving very little space. On this particular
morning, as I was cycling merrily down the lane, I saw this big school bus
parked up front, uploading or downloading a few school kids. There was just
sufficient space for an auto or a bicycle to pass the bus, but definitely not
enough for both. I took the right lane (the narrow space available to the right
side of the bus or rather the wrong side of the bus) and charted my flight plan
overtaking the stationary bus. Nothing great to it, overtaking a bus which is
stationary is no big deal to cycling stalwarts like me. At this juncture I
noticed the auto rickshaw coming from the other side. As I said, the space
available in the road was not enough for the both of us. It was a matter of
either I existed or he did...and in case of a crash, its anyone's guess, whose
existance one could safely place bets on!
No sweat, I said to myself, and speeded up. I could cross the bus before the
auto came close enough. Now this particular auto driver seemed to have some kind
of macho streak in him. I don't know whether he was an avid fan of Street Hawk,
or modelled himself in the lines of the Knight Rider, but he chose this
particular moment to put his three wheeled beast into the fourth gear and surge
forward with a malicious grin on his face. I paniced. I was already abreast the
big bus, and there was no stopping now. I was moving at about 40 kilometers per
hour, speeds that cycles should never attain, and I had to pass the bus and
swerve left in the split second, before the auto came up. I calmly took in the
situation (of course I am kidding) and gathered that there was still a chance
that I could make my way out of the fix in one piece. The bus driver, who was
looking disdainfully out of his window, read my mind. He took it upon himself to
decide that things were not interesting enough, and started his bus. The small
gap between the auto and the bus started closing in further...
WAY TO GO...
(Part III)
A week after this, I was again rushing down a lane, which meets the Wind Tunnel
Road in a 'T-joint'. The lane was sloping, and I was thoroughly enjoying the
downhill ride, and it was only when I had come up to the main road that I
noticed that I was not the only person who liked to speed. Unfortunately, the
other guy was on a bike. Now, this guy was in no mood to slow down even though
we were straight on a collision course, and I figured out that I should probably
take evasive action for I would be the one to be worse of after the hit.
Some people may be able to cycle at top speed, swerve at a moment's notice, and
still be in perfect control, going exactly where they want to. I am not one of
them. I was cycling at top speed, and I swerved, but found out at once that I
was no longer in control. I could barely stay upright and let the cycle go where
it wanted to, which it did. The cycle missed the speeding bike, crossed the Wind
Tunnel road, straight across, and hit a scooter. (I was on the cycle all this
while!) The scooter was actually parked by the side of the road when I hit it. I
came to a dead halt still upright, all the momentum being transferred to the
scooter. It fell on its side, and the seat came off! A man emerged from a shop
nearby. Looking at the expression on his face, I could deduce easily that he was
the owner of the 'fallen' scooter! He wordlessly picked up his scooter, glared
at me, put the seat back on, sat on it and rode away! He didn't swear even once!
I was thrilled to come in contact with such a man (or rather his scooter).
I don't know which of the two incidents is responsible, but they left my cycle
unscarred except for the fact that the front wheel was now an ellipse instead of
a circle. The major and minor axes are almost too close to be identified
visually, but I can feel the effect from the gentle up and down swaying when I
roll down the slopes without pedalling.
(Part III)
A week after this, I was again rushing down a lane, which meets the Wind Tunnel
Road in a 'T-joint'. The lane was sloping, and I was thoroughly enjoying the
downhill ride, and it was only when I had come up to the main road that I
noticed that I was not the only person who liked to speed. Unfortunately, the
other guy was on a bike. Now, this guy was in no mood to slow down even though
we were straight on a collision course, and I figured out that I should probably
take evasive action for I would be the one to be worse of after the hit.
Some people may be able to cycle at top speed, swerve at a moment's notice, and
still be in perfect control, going exactly where they want to. I am not one of
them. I was cycling at top speed, and I swerved, but found out at once that I
was no longer in control. I could barely stay upright and let the cycle go where
it wanted to, which it did. The cycle missed the speeding bike, crossed the Wind
Tunnel road, straight across, and hit a scooter. (I was on the cycle all this
while!) The scooter was actually parked by the side of the road when I hit it. I
came to a dead halt still upright, all the momentum being transferred to the
scooter. It fell on its side, and the seat came off! A man emerged from a shop
nearby. Looking at the expression on his face, I could deduce easily that he was
the owner of the 'fallen' scooter! He wordlessly picked up his scooter, glared
at me, put the seat back on, sat on it and rode away! He didn't swear even once!
I was thrilled to come in contact with such a man (or rather his scooter).
I don't know which of the two incidents is responsible, but they left my cycle
unscarred except for the fact that the front wheel was now an ellipse instead of
a circle. The major and minor axes are almost too close to be identified
visually, but I can feel the effect from the gentle up and down swaying when I
roll down the slopes without pedalling.
WAY TO GO...
(Part II)
With such cycling backgrounds, I started cycling on Bangalore roads, including
the famous Airport Road. As expected, the short cycle trips from home to office
and office to the tennis courts were full of adventure and 'put the heart in the
mouth' misses. (That is, I could barely manage to miss the busses and trucks!!)
The first 'accident' occurred within a month. I was racing down Airport Road on
my not-meant-to-be-a-racing bicycle, and I was totally overcome by the feeling of
air blowing thru' your hair (the actual effect happens only in bikes, but you
can get a trailor on your bicycle as well!), and being in a state of ecstasy, I
didn't see the traffic light up front turn red, and the bus ahead of me stop.
Now Bangalore busses are a mean lot. They are not so plentiful as Calcutta
busses, or Delhi busses, but whatever they lack in number, they make up in their
meanness. In this case however, the bus driver didnt do anything wrong. He just
pulled up short as soon as the light turned red. Now, I am always a little slow
with the brakes - I don't like pressing brakes while cycling, its a simple waste
of all the energy that you put into speeding up - and I banged into the bus
square on.
OK, when I say banged INTO, I should probably elaborate. The rear end of the bus
was just as high as my front wheel. The cycle hit the bus straight and the front
wheel got stuck under the bus!!! I tried heaving it out, but to no avail. To
make matters worse, a bike pulled up beside me. A girl was sitting behind the
helmet-ed, leather jacket-ed guy. She looked at me with a bored expression and
the what-a-silly-guy-trying-to-pull-the-cycle-out-when-he-can-just-tilt-it-to-
free-it look on her face. She was chewing a bubble gum or something, and kept
staring at my clumsy efforts to pull my cycle free! I became conscious of the
gaze, and started tugging harder, with no results. Ultimately, the traffic light
came to my rescue, and the bus pulled off, leaving my cycle behind, with me
sitting on it, unscarred!
(Part II)
With such cycling backgrounds, I started cycling on Bangalore roads, including
the famous Airport Road. As expected, the short cycle trips from home to office
and office to the tennis courts were full of adventure and 'put the heart in the
mouth' misses. (That is, I could barely manage to miss the busses and trucks!!)
The first 'accident' occurred within a month. I was racing down Airport Road on
my not-meant-to-be-a-racing bicycle, and I was totally overcome by the feeling of
air blowing thru' your hair (the actual effect happens only in bikes, but you
can get a trailor on your bicycle as well!), and being in a state of ecstasy, I
didn't see the traffic light up front turn red, and the bus ahead of me stop.
Now Bangalore busses are a mean lot. They are not so plentiful as Calcutta
busses, or Delhi busses, but whatever they lack in number, they make up in their
meanness. In this case however, the bus driver didnt do anything wrong. He just
pulled up short as soon as the light turned red. Now, I am always a little slow
with the brakes - I don't like pressing brakes while cycling, its a simple waste
of all the energy that you put into speeding up - and I banged into the bus
square on.
OK, when I say banged INTO, I should probably elaborate. The rear end of the bus
was just as high as my front wheel. The cycle hit the bus straight and the front
wheel got stuck under the bus!!! I tried heaving it out, but to no avail. To
make matters worse, a bike pulled up beside me. A girl was sitting behind the
helmet-ed, leather jacket-ed guy. She looked at me with a bored expression and
the what-a-silly-guy-trying-to-pull-the-cycle-out-when-he-can-just-tilt-it-to-
free-it look on her face. She was chewing a bubble gum or something, and kept
staring at my clumsy efforts to pull my cycle free! I became conscious of the
gaze, and started tugging harder, with no results. Ultimately, the traffic light
came to my rescue, and the bus pulled off, leaving my cycle behind, with me
sitting on it, unscarred!
WAY TO GO...
(PART I)
The house that I stay in (well, I don't feel like calling it my home as yet) is
about a kilometer away from my office, and I cycle to office everyday. The cycle
was the first thing that I bought after coming to Bangalore, when I discovered
that my office was about a kilometer away from the house.
I couldn't think of buying a bike instead. Number one, the cost. I had made up
my mind, not to take any more money from my parents, now that I was working.
More importantly, my mother would have had a heart attack, had she heard that I
was going to buy a bike! And I was still an obidient son, fresh from college!
So I bought a cycle within a couple of weeks of coming to Bangalore. I was not
an expert cyclist (I still am not). My cousins in Kalyani (a small town in West
Bengal) dreaded the idea of allowing me to ride their bicycles. They couldn't
say an outright NO when I asked for the cycle, but they made it a point, never
to be within a mile of me with a cycle!
My parents had bought me a cycle when I was in class eight.It was a parallel bar
affair, and the idea was that my younger sister and I will share it (take turns
in riding). And since we were never allowed outside the gates of our building,
there was never hot contention to aquire the rights to ride on any particular
day. My cycling career while in school comprised of going up and down the stony
road in front of our building and within its walls, chequered with innumerable
falls, a constantly bruised pair of knees and the delight of the local pharmacy
giving anti-tetanus injections.
(PART I)
The house that I stay in (well, I don't feel like calling it my home as yet) is
about a kilometer away from my office, and I cycle to office everyday. The cycle
was the first thing that I bought after coming to Bangalore, when I discovered
that my office was about a kilometer away from the house.
I couldn't think of buying a bike instead. Number one, the cost. I had made up
my mind, not to take any more money from my parents, now that I was working.
More importantly, my mother would have had a heart attack, had she heard that I
was going to buy a bike! And I was still an obidient son, fresh from college!
So I bought a cycle within a couple of weeks of coming to Bangalore. I was not
an expert cyclist (I still am not). My cousins in Kalyani (a small town in West
Bengal) dreaded the idea of allowing me to ride their bicycles. They couldn't
say an outright NO when I asked for the cycle, but they made it a point, never
to be within a mile of me with a cycle!
My parents had bought me a cycle when I was in class eight.It was a parallel bar
affair, and the idea was that my younger sister and I will share it (take turns
in riding). And since we were never allowed outside the gates of our building,
there was never hot contention to aquire the rights to ride on any particular
day. My cycling career while in school comprised of going up and down the stony
road in front of our building and within its walls, chequered with innumerable
falls, a constantly bruised pair of knees and the delight of the local pharmacy
giving anti-tetanus injections.
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