Due to recent budget cuts, economic downturn and the upward spiraling cost of gas and energy, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off.

You know there's something gloomy about the world's situation when you find this as the status message of not one, but three people (independent and mutually exclusive, for the more probabilistically inclined) on your list of google-talk contacts.

There is one question that leaves me baffled - "Where did all the money go?" Whenever someone talks about the whole recession, the imagery in my mind is of miserly-looking people sitting at home with pots of gold, refusing to buy, sell or lend.

This post is going to remain incomplete till one day, I understand this whole mysterious 'market', and will explain to the fellow hapless reader.

Here is an exchange of poems between a friend of mine (who chooses to remain anonymous) and I:

Borders

I swam the river, crossed the plateau
climbed the ridge, scaled the pass

to your strange land where
clothes are brown, cities purple.

I walked to a home yet unseen,
seeking directions in gesture and nod,

Arrived to smiles, tears and babble,
strange foods and exotic drink,

Shook hands, bowed, kissed, made love,
embraced, wept. And all over again.

~

A chapter ends and I retrace
faded footprints, under freshly barbed wires,

Passing yellow signs with unblinking words,
skirting fences that bite, trenches that trap.

Who are these men, that walk
not along the road, but across it

And tell me I do not belong
in the land of my birth,

Why don't they hear when I sing
the song of the valley beyond?

-----

- Anonymous

The Song of the Valley Beyond

It is not my place amongst these men,
from lands beyond the horizon,
Who fell my trees and barb my lands,
Replace green signs of spring, with yellow.
Why do they spew hate, like little volcanoes?
As we walk, not along the road, but across it.
Will they ever understand,
My song of the valley beyond?

Who is that one, who crosses the fence?
She looks at me, in silence,
Not even the wind whispers,
The oaks no longer stand to speak their language.
"You shall not pass" my throat says,
Harsh words of the plains.
Can she hear my heart cry
The song of a valley beyond?

Her tears speak a common language.
She turns back, and walks.
Every step, and the dagger pierces
A little deeper.
Does she not know
it's not me?
That I too sing,
Her song of the valley beyond?

- Kedar

If there was one poem or piece of prose that has change my life, it has to be this one. This is a poem written by one of my teachers in school. There is something about this poem that is magical, and I've refused to share it with anyone till today!

The poem was written for the 'farewell' that our school organised for the batch of tenth graders who were leaving. Although this poem was written for the batch senior to us, I think the poem is for anyone, who is refusing to let go of the innocence called childhood...

"We have lived here and learnt,
And we have dreamt,
and because we have been young,
We have dreamt of fantastic possibilities
and of impossible things;
and it is in our innocence that
we have believed in them

Now, it's almost time to grow up.
and even as we grow, we will learn;
and as we learn, they might tell us
that what we had thought was wrong
Then we have to decide...
Whether we wish to grow out of our childhood
or we wish to grow up to it

Let us never learn so much,
that we unlearn the joys of wonderment and dreams,
Let us never be so afraid to do what we think is right
and let us always be willing to put all our earnings
for a handful of stardust.

Because we were born as children of God,
and it is to this that we need to grow up to
Let us never forget what we knew so well when we were young
And someday, let us all grow up,
to find once again,
the child in us."

- Siddhartha Kanungo

In order to provide entertainment to women and to enable them to acquire General Knowledge for the Social and Economical development of the State, the Government of Tamil Nadu have announced that all the households in Tamil Nadu State who do not have Colour TV sets would be provided with a Free 14” Colour Television set from State funds. It is envisaged that around 7.5 million families would be benefited from this scheme. The Government expenditure would be around Rs.2500 Crores towards the implementation of this scheme during a 5 year period. The project would be implemented in a phased manner over a period of 5 years.

Rs. 25,000,000,000! At Rs. 42.60 per dollar, that means the Government of Tamil Nadu will be spending US$ 586,854,460 on colour television sets for all those poor people who can afford to see pictures in colour in their idiot box near their home. Somewhere along the line, the famous roti, kapda, makaan has metamorphosed into roti, kapda, makaan, tv! And honestly, I will not be surprised if in a few years time, we'll have cars and bikes added to that list of basic necessities!

This brings me to one discussion I had with my friend, Mr. Animesh Agarwal (here), on the predicament of the disbursement of income tax. Stated below are the two sides of the coin that shown during my conversation with Animesh. Now, this coin is by no means a two-sided one, and there will be plenty of you who have a very different take on the whole issue. Do pen down your thoughts either in the comments section, or email me (which I will append at the end of the blog entry, with your name, etc).


Kedar said...

There are innumerable times when I feel the whole concept of income tax is pure larceny! Why should I pay a third of my hard-earned money for something like colour televisions or the social upliftment of a village a thousand miles from my home? If I pay a lakh a year to the government, should I not get something back in return? I don't have any grandiose requests, but it frustrates me when I have to drive on roads that have potholes the size of lunar craters.

Instead of me paying my money to the government, isn't it much better if I spend that money on improving my surroundings? Instead of giving it to the government, whose modes of expenditure of public moneys are dubious more often than not, won't there be far more social welfare if I spent that money improving my milieu? And the most wonderful part of this solution is that I will be able to see the benefits it brings. If my money goes into building decent roads, building a clean hospital so that someone sick can avail good healthcare, building a good school, etc, it would make me much happier than giving the money to the public exchequer.

I am not advocating not paying tax. I am not of the opinion that a government structure can survive without some form of tax. But, I question the whole concept of being forced to give money to a government whose election or impeachment I have no control over. Everyone should set aside some amount of money (a third is a fairly reasonable amount), but they should have the power to spend it the way they deem prudent.


Animesh said...

The idea proposed by Kedar is too idealistic. It works on the concept that the people in the smaller groups that form are infallible, and will be in concord on the disbursement of the moneys collected as tax.

If people are given the power to decide how their money is spent, everyone will choose to spend money in a manner that will benefit them and the people around them. This will only increase the economic divide in society, leading to an uncontrollable surge in unemployment and crime.

The reason the government should be the one overseeing the distribution of public moneys is because it is its responsibility to be in the know of the socio-economic needs of the people of different parts (geographic, economic and social) of the country. Thus, they are the best accoutered to make a well-informed choice as to where the money should go. And, there might be no doubt that the manner in which they handle public moneys is dishonest, there is no guarantee that smaller groups will not indulge in the same wrongdoings due to the pecuniary lust.

If, at this point, the rich try to take more control of the manner in which public funds are spent, there is a threat of being reduced to anarchy, where there is no value for money, and only the mob rules the land.


The interpolation done by Animesh and me to the situations we describe might be highly exaggerated, I believe that the principle behind those examples are very legitimate.

The past four days have been the most frustrating. I had to meet my guide on Monday, and the pressure was intense. Amongst the numerous proofs I was to show him, I had barely got past one. I was stuck on the last step.

Like all papers, this step was deemed to be so trivial that there was no explanation given at all. The result was deemed to obvious and despite reading three references and referring two text books in the library, I could not figure out what was the gist of this magical step.

For all of you curious readers (who haven't betrayed me and escaped out out of ennui), I will state the problem below -

There are two normal vectors, u and v. Now,

S = K + (K/2).||u.v||
and hence
S >= K/2
(K, like it all other K's, is a positive constant)

After four days of vexation, and a rather bad haircut at Gurunath which I hoped would change my luck, I did figure it out. This is what I looked like (bald patch symbolizes a Gurunath)

A big thanks to iknowkungfoo, for that is where I got this wonderful image. Except for the bald patch, the image is remarkably similar to the way I sit at my computer after four days' research on the negative side of cos(x)!

Gurunath : (noun) A terrible, but cheap haircut.
usage :

• You cheapskate.. You tried to save a buck and all you landed up gtting was a Gurunath.
• That barber Gurunathed you..
• If you are too lazy to go to a barber in Adyar, go have a Gurunath

"And I had at one point this rather depressing image of some alien creature seeing the death of this planet and coming down in their spaceships and sniffing around and finding all our skeletons sitting around our TV sets and trying to work out why it was that our end came before its time, and they come to the conclusion that we amused ourselves to death." - Roger Waters, in an interview to the LA Times

Amused to Death is an album by Roger Waters, of Pink Floyd fame. Released in 1992, this album came around the time of the Gulf War, and Roger Water's feeling of futility of war is established early on in the album. However, a pressing concern of Waters, previously unseen, is the transformation of the human race into idiots by the television is made clear to the listener.



These are the lyrics of the last song. I wonder if it's some kind of premonition, some kind of prescience that Roger Waters has going.

And out in the valley warm and clean
The little ones sit by their TV screens
No thoughts to think
No tears to cry
All sucked dry
Down to the very last breath
Bartender what is wrong with me
Why am I so out of breath
The captain said excuse me ma'am
This species has amused itself to death
Amused itself to death
Amused itself to death
We watched the tragedy unfold
We did as we were told
We bought and sold
It was the greatest show on earth
But then it was over
We ohhed and aahed
We drove our racing cars
We ate our last few jars of caviar
And somewhere out there in the stars
A keen-eyed look-out
Spied a flickering light
Our last hurrah
And when they found our shadows
Grouped around the TV sets
They ran down every lead
They repeated every test
They checked out all the data on their lists
And then the alien anthropologists
Admitted they were still perplexed
But on eliminating every other reason
For our sad demise
They logged the explanation left
This species has amused itself to death
No tears to cry no feelings left
This species has amused itself to death

Whether you are a diehard Floydian, or cannot bear the sound of Roger Waters, I recommend at least going through the lyrics of the album (you can find it here). Some of the stuff he says is so much like the sophistry we attribute to great thinkers. Do let me know what you feel..

WARNING : Very arbit. A post written in depression..

There are those days when one just feels alone. There is no reason for it. And in your mind, you are pretty much like that little particle that you see in those large boxes (see pic).


I suppose it's an agglomeration of a lot of things - no results despite spending hours staring at a computer screen in the lab, being sick and tired of living away from home (I've been away from home since class five), and a cistern-full of other things that might slowly find it's way onto the blog in the future.


At such times, when my mind seems to be taken over by the Lord of Depression, there is one song from the album 'The Dark Side of the Moon' by Pink Floyd that comes to my mind. This is how it goes...

Fifth year is markedly different from any of my four years at IIT. First year blended into the second, and the third and fourth soon followed suit. But, the fifth year transformation stands out as unique.

I remember, walking back from the basketball court with Probs one evening. I was well into my first year by then, and I believe, I had earned my right to converse with a senior without being asked to 'put intro'! Probs had entered his fifth year (Mech Dept), and he began talking about how it feels to be in fifth year. I've had a cistern of experiences since then, but this conversation is etched in my memory, and despite all the winds of change that ravage the institute every year, some things never change, like the fifth year of the dual degree program.

If there was one way to describe this year, it is the "End after the end"! You are given a farewell party, your toasts are read out, you join in the placement fever with all your BTech batch mates, and after all the goodbyes and teary-eyed farewells, it's time to go back to IITM for one more year of research work!

The biggest challenge this year offers, even more than managing a project guide who believes you do not work, is managing the plethora of time that opens up in the day. After eight course-filled semesters, juggling twenty credits, and trying to throw in some extra-curriculars, having no courses at all is extremely difficult to handle. After yearning for free aftis all through your stay in IIT, getting five of them per week is hard to come to terms with. And with a computer and DC++ beckoning you, it is a challenge to devote your afternoon to books, rather than enslaving oneself to .avi files.

One of the scariest experiences this year has on offer is introspection. It is impossible to go on with life, without one day, while walking towards the department, your mind slaps you with the query, "So Kedar, what's happening in your life?" It's the one question you hoped would never see the light of day, the one question you shudder about asking yourself, the one question you had pushed into the darkest crevices of your mind, and "BAM!", it catches you with an uppercut, right out of the blue, right on your jaw, exactly where it hurts! The first response for such an unprovoked attack is recrimination, "My life is happening", I tell myself, saying it again and again in the hope that I start believing it. But, my mind is well past those puerile days, and I know that it's a bare-faced lie. And as I grope in the dark for an answer, days pass, weeks pass, and I come to terms with the answer, "Nothing... Really.."



I suppose fifth year is all about making things happen in your life. Till the fourth year, time Bolts past you, throwing at you assignments, plays, quizzes, bridge, end-semesters. Never giving you time to just stand and stare. You are always on your toes, dodging the arrows from the quivers of the professors, and suddenly, the pace of the battle changes, and suddenly things change.

The life of a dual degree is like following the course of a river. You start of on top of a mountain, like a mountain stream, innocent, vulnerable and bubbling with energy. Having cleared the IIT JEE ("the cream of the nation", as we are made to believe), the fresher is excited by the prospects of what life has in store, and we cannot wait to flow down the slopes of the mountain. As time passes, the stream gathers more pace. Now, it's not the stream that is really racing down. The stream tries to slow down at every boulder along the way, trying to catch its breath, trying to come to terms with what's flowing around him, but all in vain. These are the rapids, the water is an unstoppable force, taking with it everything along its course. Finally, in the summer at the end of the fourth year, the rapids burst into a splendid cataract, as the water magnificently splashes into the placid fifth year, that forms the plungepool below.


But, life still goes on. And everything might change around you, but I suppose I have no excuse to be stuck in the moment, and not let go of the years that were. Yes, life goes on...

"The script will change, the cast will change, the audience will change, the whole world will change. But, the show must go on.."

Last night, we had the first (and very likely the last) hostel general body meeting. Like all the meetings that I have seen over the years, this one too started well after the scheduled 9pm. This time around, we were told that the meeting was starting late due to the presence of the warden (who despite all odds, had found his way to the hostel).

It brought my attention to some rather worrisome facts about us!

Coming to the discourse of the warden himself. I never really understand why the authorities at IIT insist on calling us 'inmates'! An online dictionary, which I believe is trustworthy and reliable, defines the word as -
Is this how we appear to them? Do they look at us in the same fashion we gawk at those caged chickens and lambs that head to the slaughterhouse in the over crowded trucks? For reasons best known to me, more often than not, I think they do!

Another striking fact was the mode in which people conduct themselves in large groups. It is rather strange that the same set of people, who will sit dressed as natty as possible and act with enviable panache at group discussions, will break into pandemonium at the pecuniary discussions at the meeting. I suppose it all boils down to parsimony when having to spend out of one's own pocket, but it is rather remarkable how the mind of the student works. For instance, a weightlifter expects the hostel to pay for all his weight-lifting expenses, but at the same time will not part with his money for the basketball team that does the same. Every discussion starts in a rather civil manner, but within no time, the students break into a cacophony, with everyone using the choicest foul language from their respective patois.

I overheard a suggestion for treats for those who participate in the inter-hostel sports tournaments that dot the calender all year round at IIT. I think the word used was incentive, and that is what really pricked the most. Has this what hostel spirit and hostel pride has reduced to? When I was in first year, playing for Godavari was an honor. We would go in drones to watch every match - be it football, cricket, or hockey; a battalion of noisy first years would be there cheering our sportsmen on. We never bothered about treats when we lugged cans of water to the basketball court. We never once dreamed of goodies when we went to the basketball court at six in the morning to play basketball. What has changed? Why are we becoming mercenaries, for treats? Maybe it's just my detachment from my hostel that is giving me this impression, but if if it's not just paranoia, then something is going tetrribly wrong, and it has to be nipped.

I left the meeting within an hour. I was the only fifth year attending the meeting, and I did feel rather out of place amongst the vociferous inmates of the hostel. I's a half past twelve now, and I can still hear the buzz emanating from the common room. A voice of pique breaks the pinions of the common room every once in a while, some secretary desperate to drive home his point.

I suppose things have changed a lot from the time I walked into the hostel a dreary-eyed fresher. And, I probably, it's not right on my part to cling on to the ethos we grew up believing. I suppose the winds of change are blowing, and I've to let it blow..

PS : I'm on word-list P for GRE prep. Forgive the prolixity..

Must watch - Coupling!

Still so serious?

Reasons why I am proud of India -

1. The Himalayas


2. The rich culture


3. Cultural diversity - The unity in the diversity


4. Beautiful rivers


5. Great education institutes


6. Knowledge of the vedas, upanishads, etc

Reasons why I'm ashamed to call myself an Indian -

1. Reservation based on caste, not economic need


2. The caste system still not abolished


3. Criminal politicians running the country


4. Corruption everywhere


5. Red tape and bureaucracy (for eg, here and here)


6. Vote-bank politics


7. Population control - low priority

I didn't celebrate Independence Day yesterday. It's true I didn't go to lab or study, but I did not rejoice as the whole nation does. What have we gotten our independence from? All that we're left with a nation that is spiraling towards anarchy.

The way things stand, I'm proud of India, but not of being an Indian. And, I don't look with disdain at all those rich NRI's, who come to India once a year to flaunt their wealth - they may be the same too.

Well, Happy Independence Day.

Rajinikanth! Coooool!

PS : I've learnt (well after posting this) that this is a copy of the facts about Chuck Norris.

Some Haiku's I wrote in my Creative Writing class.

This one is my favourite -
Shackles of lathargy,
My bed : A dungeon?
My knight is the day..


This one struggles to have a meaning, but I wanted to use the letter V as much as I can!
Void of a blemish,
Verdant vigour
Vernal visuals are vices


This happens every morning!
Trrrriiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnggggggg!
One more battle lost,
Victorious alarm clock.


Some hope..
The golden rays,
the morning splendour
Wipes all slates clean, once again

I squinted through my eyes at the alarm clock that sat victoriously on the shelf beside my bed. It was unexpectedly bright. The golden rivers of sunlight flooded the room, making even the lifeless walls of my room sing a song of their own. I could see the dust particles dancing about in the stream of sunlight, prepping themselves for one more day of being suspended in the air.

"This is not how my final year in IIT is meant to be", I grumpily told myself as I got off my bed. I had cunningly chosen classes such that I would never have to open my eyes before a half past eight, and here I was, up by seven! But, what I hadn't expected was my professor rescheduling the class to the morning.

Having conceded defeat to the alarm clock, I set out to perform the duties that come with every morning. I headed to the bathroom (which felt at least a mile away) to finish off with my morning ablutions.

Outside, Nature had woken up way before me. Little squirrels with their tails held high, were running on the sagely branches, that reached out and touched every other tree, giving one a feeling of unity. A family of monkeys sat, doing their daily inspection of the dustbins. The baby monkeys playfully fought with each other, under the watchful eyes of the mother. Spotted deer, looking golden in the soft morning sunshine, cantered about, with a fresh spring in their stride. Birds of all shapes and sizes darted from one place to another, each singing their own private melodies.

There was fresh energy everywhere. Maybe, it wasn't such a bad idea to wake up early...

I always envy the regular bloggers. How do they motivate themselves to write with religious regularity? And how come they always find something to write about?

Well, to get past the motivation issue, I've decided to write at least once a week. And, to avoid the need to conjure the weekly content, I've decided to write about something I follow quite passionately! Football! And more specifically, the journey of Manchester United this year.

And who knows, maybe I could throw in some GRE words and improve my English, in the way the Americans want it!

Check out - GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! And, tell me if you like it..

I found this one on the blog of KV Mohan. I'd seen this video long back and had a good laugh over it. Felt I just had to share it with you.

The lyrics are here -

ANTONIO : I am dumb.
(Merchant of Venice - Act V)

If there is any one of you out there who has read or seen The Merchant of Venice, this is one line that stands out in the play. This line does not comprise great Shakespearen writing, and the three words are quite inconspicuous in that sense. But looking back at a life filled with feet in the mouth (yes, foot went in there many times) and bad judgment (I'm the King at that), the number of times I've said this one line to myself is amusingly high.

One such incident happened today! In fact, I'm saying this line to myself over and over as I write this little piece.

This was the problem I was facing. I had an image, the map of the IIT KV ground (see pic). I had to trace out the outline of the ground, which I did without much difficulty. But now the question arose, how do I get rid of the other stuff?

I am not a big fan of the process of googling for software. Instinctively, I began alternating between Gimp and GPaint and began erasing out the parts that were not needed. But, this job had to be done with care. The size of the outline should not vary too much, and it required precision that I never knew existed in my body. Painstakingly, over two hours, I did a crude job of creating an outline.

And then came the brainwave! IMAGE PROCESSING! I mean, everything was working in my favour -
1) I am a geek
2) I have done the course
3) Online converters to .pgm are readily available
And so, I wrote a code (it's not as tough as it sounds, in fact, it's embarrassingly trivial), and "PIFF!", in a few seconds, it did a better job than what two hours of hard work took.

Right now, looking back at the past two hours, the words of Antonio ring in my head, "I am dumb... I am dumb... I am dumb... I am dumb..."

Running towards me was the monster of Commonsense. I don't think he recognized me, the Prodigal son of his kingdom, for it had been a while since I left the kingdom. I had grown up in the land of Commonsense. I recall playing in the verdant fields that surrounded Logic, the capital city of the kingdom. Everything here was ordered, structured and most important of all, simple!

I grew up like any child, my mind plagued with questions about the world around me. What lay beyond the walls of the kingdom? Why did the monster guard those walls with ferocity beyond anyone's imagination? Why was the gate into our land locked all the time? Were there people outside trying to get in? Why don't we let them in? I went to Mr. Pillar, my tall principal, but he dismissed me, telling me to go work on my math instead. I went to the Post Office and asked the postman if his knowledge about the world surpassed the walls of our kingdom, but he ignored me, as he stamped one envelope after another. Despite running from Pillar to post, my questions still remained unanswered, and the fire to find the answers burnt even brighter. I decided it was I who had to do something to quench this thirst.

One dark night, as the waning moon hid behind the clouds, I picked up my bags and left home. I was setting out to the neighboring town, Curio City. Curio City was long past its days of glory as the knowledge capital of the kingdom. All that was left of the glorious university buildings with their decorated vestibules was a feline graveyard. But, it was still regarded by some of the purists as the starting point of all pilgrimages of seeking answers, and before the sun rays got past the orange horizon, I entered the portals of Curio City.

As I walked over the dead felines, in the corner, out of reach of the flickering lamp stood a man. The man looked peculiarly familiar. He beckoned me, as if he knew the answers to all the questions in my mind. And as we quickly got past the initial "Hello, and what is your name, good Sir?", the peculiar familiarity soon metamorphosed into suspicious familiarity, and like a lightening bolt it struck me, he was none other than the infamous Reb Ellion. As I struggled to keep track of what Reb said, my mind was racing down the lanes of Commonsense where I recalled seeing Reb Ellion's face on the posters stuck to the lamp posts. Those warnings spoke of a man whose heart was colder than ice, whose cunning put any vixen to shame and his lust for gore featured in everyone's nightmares! But much to my relief, Reb was nothing like that. Dressed in an expensive blazer, he spoke to me in impeccable English, with an accent I couldn't place. And as the morning turned to afternoon, that soon gave way to evening, one thing was clear, Reb Ellion was a happening man, who could help me find the answers to those questions that were troubling me.

I asked Reb about the distant lands past the kingdom walls. He answered each question with the patience of a sage. He told me stories of his travels to distant worlds, telling me about the neighboring kingdom, where there were no rules and complete freedom. I stared wide-eyed, and with a gaping mouth I heard stories about parties full of expensive wines and food, that lasted for four days. "I have to see this land", I thought to myself.

That night, I planned my second escape, and this time, from the kingdom of Commonsense. I was certain that Reb was awake under his blanket, but he did not object to my leaving at an hour that only the stars were awake to experience. The guards by the wall were struggling to stay up on that quiet, serene night. I knew the monster would not patrol this side of the kingdom till a few minutes later (I could see him in the distance, far away).

In a flash, I was off. I sneaked past the gate, picking the lock in a jiffy, as I had learnt from Sneaky, the school hooligan. And, I ran! In the distance, I could see the glowing lights of Anarchy, the capital of the kingdom of Nonsense, and my eyes remained fixed on this welcome glow in the dark, cold night.

The first few weeks was paradise. The air had an intoxicating smell, which spread to everyone in the country. Cisterns of ambrosia lay strewn around the place. Drunk, people sang and danced, taking swigs of intoxicating substances. People looked happy, and I promised myself, this was the place I would call home!

And then came the fateful day. Mis, the pretty girl at the corner shop, had an altercation with Chief, the local goon. Mis alleged that Chief was a shoplifter, and he should pay for what he took, goon or not. Chief was not one to stand back, and he too began shouting, claiming innocence, and accusing Mis of tainting his reputation. Soon people from all over town gathered, to watch this tussle between the town's prettiest girl and the town's most feared thug. The crowd soon transformed into a mob, with half of them loyal to Mis, the other claiming loyalty to Chief. A fight seemed imminent, and everyone waited with bated breaths for the first punch to be thrown. And, thus Mis-Chif started the most fierce fight in Nonsense history.

In all due respect to the two, it wasn't them who started the fight. Trigger-happy Butter Fingers, Mis's little brother, had heard about the altercation at his shop. Fearing for his sister, he borrowed a gun and rushed to the scene to protect her from what he believed was a lost battle. And, in the nervous silence of the stand-off, he pulled the trigger. The bullet never hit Chief, but the noise startled him. Chief's hat, that was so delicately poised on his oddly shapped head, got dislodged in all this commotion, and before anyone could react, hit the dusty road. And, thus at the drop of a hat, all pandemonium broke lose! This war was no place for someone like me. I hailed from Commonsense, the land that had never experienced a fight in is history.

I had to escape this riot, that was soon going to go out of hand. I stuffed all my belongings in the duffel bag I had been tricked into buying by a cunning salesman, and hastily began my journey back to Commonsense. The guards at the border of Nonsense had left their posts to fight against one another, and I reached the walls of Commonsense with an eerie ease. I climbed the wall, using every bit of energy I had left in my body. The land on other side invited me - I was going back home! And with this happy thought, I jumped into the kingdom of Commonsense.

As soon as my feet touched the soft soil, an earth-shattering scream filled the air. "ILLEGAL ALIEN.. GO BACK TO YOUR LAND!!!" Fearing the worst, I looked up. And running towards me was the monster of Commonsense...


This was what I wrote in my creative writing class (Dr. K Srilata's course) that I do on every Thursday afternoon. We were given the first line of the story and asked to complete it. I quite liked what I wrote, and thought I'd seek your opinion on it. Thanks for reading through the whole thing.

PS: Do leave comments...

Source for the image - http://www.ravenblack.net/art/pictures/dragon.html

Well, one year later, nothing has changed! Around a year ago, I had written a little post on ragging, and I'm back with more!

To be politically correct, I oppose those who oppose ragging! I respect and support them in their quest of condemning certain aspects of ragging, but I also believe that they have gone a little overboard with their fancy laws and anti-ragging squads. What I oppose the most is the practice of not giving a fair hearing to a senior.

Let me first define ragging, as it has been told to us by our Dean of Students -
Any disorderly conduct, whether by words spoken or written or by an act which the effect of teasing, treating or handling with rudeness any other student, indulging in rowdy or indisciplined activities which causes or is likely to cause annoyance, hardship or psychological harm or to raise fear or apprehension thereof in a fresher or a junior student or asking the students to do any act or perform something which such student will not do in the ordinary course and which has the effect of causing or generating a sense of shame or embarrassment so as to adversely ...

Like all rules, this one makes a special effort to include every possible case, and only results in being a complicated mess of a sentence. Go over it a couple of times, and maybe, you will understand it, and if you do, please explain it to me.

As any senior at IIT Madras will tell you, the Dean and his band of merry men spend the ntire start of the odd semester ensuring that no freshie is a victim of ragging. This is ensured through surprise checks and most effective of all, the snitch! At the slightest complaint, the authorities come swooping down on unsuspecting (and sometimes innocent) seniors.

Now, my question is - Is it correct to give this kind of power to freshies? Are they mature enough to make these kind of decisions? Their seniors, like them, spent two (or more) years to get into IIT and they've spent another couple (at the least) surviving this hell-hole! And, all it takes is one complaint by a freshie to end it all?

It's like giving a baby a gun! I guess it's time all seniors ducked for cover...

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.


This is one video that will make you happy! One video that will pick you up on even your worst of days! Smile and be happy!

Click here to go to the youtube site with the same video. I had some problems with the video on the above mentioned site.



Cheers!
Kedar

The other day, at Tarams, Sania made this wonderful statement -
"Over the four years, I've learned to curb myself from doing things out of sudden bursts of enthusiasm".

Nothing very profound, one might argue. It's one of those things that we know! And still, we fall prey to these little bursts of enthusiasm, and land up committing to things we never had any inclination towards!

Here, I am going to list the things I started doing out of these sudden bursts of enthu. Some are good and some I repent -
1) Took up projects with professors at IIT
2) Took a course on graph theory and landed up screwing my GPA
3) Asked countless number of girls if they will dance with me at Saarang 2005
4) Started blogging
5) Became councilor for some six very random freshers!
6) Took up Classical Field Theory
7) Became insti bridge captain - the admin work was a pain!

This list is by no means exhaustive, and I will keep appending things as they come to my mind..

While writing my previous post about my experiences with the CCW (here), I chanced upon this story. Read on....

And the Lord spoke to Noah and said, "In one year, I am going to make it rain and cover the whole earth with water until all flesh is destroyed. But I want you to save the righteous people and two of every living thing on the earth. Therefore, I am commanding you to build an Ark."

In a flash of lightning, God delivered the specifications for an Ark. In fear and trembling Noah took the plans and agreed to build the Ark. "Remember" said the Lord, "You must complete the Ark and bring everything aboard in one year."

Exactly one year later, fierce storm clouds covered the earth and all the seas of the earth went into a tumult. The Lord saw that Noah was sitting in his front yard weeping. "Noah", He shouted. "Were is the Ark?" "Lord, please forgive me!", cried Noah. "I did my best, but there were big problems.

First, I had to get a permit for construction and your plans did not meet the codes. I had to hire an engineering firm and redraw the plans." "Then I got into a fight with OSHA over whether or not the Ark needed a fire sprinkler system and floatation devices. Then my neighbor objected, claiming I was violating zoning ordinances by building the Ark in my front yard, so I had to get a variance from the city planning commission." "Then I had problems getting enough wood for the Ark because there was a ban on cutting trees to protect the Spotted Owl. I finally convinced the U.S. Forest Service that I needed the wood to save the owls. However, the Fish and Wildlife Service won't let me catch any owls. So, no owls."

"The carpenters formed a union and went out on strike. I had to negotiate a settlement with the National Labor Relations Board before anyone would pick up a saw or a hammer. Now I have 16 carpenters on the Ark, but still no owls."

"When I started rounding up the other animals, I got sued by an animal rights group. They objected to me only taking two of each kind aboard. Just when I got the suit dismissed, the EPA notified me that I could not complete the Ark without filing an environmental impact statement on your proposed flood. They didn't take very kindly to the idea that they had no jurisdiction over the conduct of the Creator of the universe."

"Then the Army Corps of Engineers demanded a map of the proposed new flood plain. I sent them a globe. Right now, I am trying to resolve a complaint filed with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission that I am practicing discrimination by not taking godless, unbelieving people aboard."

"The Internal Revenue Service has seized my assets, claiming that I'm building the Ark in preparation to flee the country to avoid paying taxes. I just got a notice from the State that I owe them some kind of user tax and failed to register the Ark as a "recreational water craft".

"Finally, the American Civil Liberties Union got the courts to issue an injunction against further construction of the Ark, saying that since God is flooding the earth, it is a religious event and therefore, unconstitutional."

"I really don't think I can finish the Ark for another five or six years." Noah wailed.

The sky began to clear, the sun began to shine and the seas began to calm. A rainbow arched across the sky. Noah looked up hopefully. "You mean you are not going to destroy the earth, Lord?" "No", said the Lord sadly. "I don't have to. The government already has".

I found this story on a site called To God's Glory, and the link to this story is here.

During their stay at IIT Madras, only a lucky few escape without having an encounter with the CCW. This, my friends, is my story, about the state of the art, unbeaurecratic offices in one of India's premier technical institutes.

CCW stands for "Chairman, Council of Wardens". It comprises the office (and its leader, the Chairman) who rule over the hostel zone in IIT Madras. Using methods of extortion, they spread terrors in the corridors of every hostel. They fine every fart a student lets out, and are notorious for being a financial blackhole.

To inconvenience students, the CCW comes out with rules that are beyond most people comprehension. One such rule involves students who return early from vacation.
If a student comes to Madras, and stays in the hostel, he has to join the messing facility. If a student is found residing in the hostel, but not availing of the mess facility, he is fined between three hundred and thousand rupees. Now, if a student does happen to come after the first week of the month, and decides to stay in the hostel, he pays a fine for joining the mess late.

I'm sorry for ranting it out this way, but to put it briefly, this is what their rule says -
If you return to the institute after the third day of a month, then -
(a) you may stay in the hostel without joiing the mess and pay a fine of Rs. 300
(b) you may join the mess and pay a fine of Rs. 150
Now, has it ever struck them that they leave students with no other opportunity? The idea of having a hostel is to give students a convenient place to stay during their academic year.

Another one experience I had was when I was trying to get permission to stay in my room. It is ridiculous when you think of it rationally, but rationale has been missing in CCW since its inception.
This is the procedure to get permission for residing in the hostel. In the paranthesis, I have given the time it took me to do so -
step 1 : Get signature from Head of Department (20 minutes + 1 visit + 10 minutes squabbling)
step 2 : Get signature from the Chairman, CCW (6 days + 8 visits + 2 hours squabbling)

Another gem coming from that office was to my request of making the process of getting permission more student friendly. My point was that considering that students come from home and have no place to stay but the hostel, the procedure should be make electronic so as to allow us to do the needful before coming. Also, this will save time (it's not worth running around in the scorching sun in search of signatures). When I put forth my point, the reply was, "It is not at all troublesome. The process is very easy, you can do it sitting at home. Just ask your friend to do it for you."

That, my friends, is CCW! And welcome again to one of India's premier institutions, IIT!

Last weekend, I made a trip to Bangalore. I've got my fair share of cousins in Bangalore, and it's been a while since I've met up with them. So, when my friend Ipshita told me about a play that the Merchants of Drama (MoD) were staging on the 12th of July, I thought to myself, why not time the trip to Bangalore a the same time!

Merchants of Drama is a theater group based in Bangalore. The mastermind behind it all is Praveen Gopalkrishnan (PGK), who is a researcher (handwriting recognition) at a company in Bangalore, but more importantly, has a passion for theater. The group comprised mainly of people like PGK - talented guys, who spend the day doing regular jobs, and transform into actors at night.

Now, I'm not going to get into great detail about the plot of the play. I suppose a more comprehensive version of that could be found on the Wikipedia page. I'm going to spend my time telling you about the play.

First and foremost, before delving into anything, I loved the play. It was not much of an "entertainer" or a "feel good" production, but as a play, it was very good. More importantly, it was professionally done - good audibility, noone falling out of character, good voice projection and a well chosen script.

The play has been adapted to the stage by MoD themselves. Praveen has thrown in a narrator, so we have a Dusander narrating parts of his life, while another one acts it out. It reminded me of Five Point Someone, the similar way in which Vidyuth and me do the Hari bits, the narrator looking back on all those experiences. With the narrator come the freedom of monologues, and also welcome breathers between scenes. Do not misunderstand this - the breathers are welcome because the script is so dark, I had a niggling fear of going into depression after the play!

Coming to the acting, one word - brilliant! Dusander and Todd had the responsibility of carrying the show on their shoulders, and they did not let any one person in that audience down. They were extremely comfortable in their roles. The way they fought to control the other, and how each one manipulated the other in their own fashion was unbelievably real. Todd's cold stare (which I later learned was due to a combination of bright lights and lack of spectacles) were eerie, and the way his forehead moved when he spoke gave his character a whole new chilling dimension. But, Todd's brilliance aside, my pick for the best actor goes to Dusander. The transform of his character from a almost senile old man to a Nazi soldier was perfect! The metamorphosis was complete, with the audience being exposed to two totally different sides of the same German coin.

Another aspect of the play that worked was the stage setup. The stage had four very distinct regions - Dusander's house, Todd's house, Todd's school/hospital, and narrator's space. None of the regions overlapped the other, and with a very prudent use of lights, each space was given a life of its own! The lights were very well done, and I later discovered it was PGK himself controlling the lights!

And before I finish, there is one more person who is so easily forgotten after a successful show - the sound engineer! The unfortunate thing with sound is that when well done, it blends in to the show, but if there is a mistake, everyone glares at the sound box. Well, no one glared!

In my opinion, the show was excellent. I suppose I'm a little biased towards groups like MoD, but I'm sure any critic would feel the same way! There were barely any flaws, and the execution was like clockwork! I just hope they tour a little, maybe Hyderabad and Chennai, with the play, as I am certain this play can go places..

Doing the laundry! For some reason beyond my imagination, this always appears to be a Herculean task. I think it's something in our genes. Primitive man (after he had begun wearing clothes) had to spend impractically large amounts of time scrubbing the hunting stains of his clothes, and that has made a permanent chase in our brains.

Yesterday, thanks to my friend Erectus, I summoned the courage to walk down three floors, and put my clothes for a wash. It wasn't as hard it appeared, and within forty five minutes, the washing machine had finished the daunting task.

Phew! I suppose it's clean clothes for a week, then..

I suppose this is something that all of us have experienced! Thank God I increased my RAM by 1gB!

I suppose everyone has their own list of things that they want to do. Some give themselves a timeline, like my friend Erectus, and some people like me, who just want to do it, sometime in their lives. This post is about one of the things that I've been wanting to do for the past three years, and somehow, I've never been able to pull it off!

I've been quite fascinated by Linux users. Not because I believe Windows is evil or something, but the fact that they seem to have total power over their computers quite intrigues me. So, I decided, I have to get myself to become independent of Windows.

Linux is not as glamourous as people make it to be. It's nice (and the LUG-Tee is quite fancy too!), but it's something that I really struggle with. I think I lack patience, more than anything else. I upose the idea of the game is to fight out every problem that surfaces, check forums, and understand it. I much rather choose the easier route - phone a friend!

Finally, I've got everything running fine on Linux - wifi, MatLab, Skype (with video!). So, I sat in my room, quite pleased that all was fine. I thought to myself, "I should delete the Windows partition and make that final cut. Maybe, even try installing Gentoo?".

It's been a while now, I'm still thinking.

Many months ago, I was fantasized by going for a trek. I would spend hours on end, dreaming about walking in the mountains, carrying my own tent, sleeping bag, etc. Hem has narrated to me so many of his experiences that I couldn't stop dreaming about going for a trek myself. So, Hem and me decided to go for a trek.

I'm not going to go into the details about the trek. For that, read what I've written here. I'm going to just speak about what went through my mind.

Some how, walking in the hills gave me this feeling of quietness that I struggle to achieve in Chennai, or Mumbai, or anywhere else I've been. We would spend eight hours a day, walking with a rucksack (that feels four times as heavy), having not had breakfast or lunch. It would be exhausting, and draining - both mentally and physically. But, it gave me a sense of happiness that I can only yearn for in Chennai.

What is it with beauty? Why does it make one so happy? Is this the answer to what we are searching for in life? Are we searching for beauty, that our mind translates into happiness? What is beauty? Is it only found in spectacular sunrises and scenery? Why can't we see a beauty in a sewer?

What the trek really did was that it gave me a lot of time to myself. I had no distractions. No computer that always tempts me, no television (my greatest enemy at home), no professors, no dual degree project. It was just me.

There are so many unanswered questions. I guess I've to go for one more trek, to figure out some more answers. Or maybe, ask myself some more questions, and there's this outward chance, that I might find answers in the questions..

xkcd is by far one of the best comic strips around! It's more than a cartoon strip really, and my usage of those words are more due to a lack of vocabulary, than anything else.



Well, the above are some of the webcomics I found particularly funny!

The site also carries the following warning : this comic occasionally contains strong language (which may be unsuitable for children), unusual humor (which may be unsuitable for adults), and advanced mathematics (which may be unsuitable for liberal-arts majors).

I was introduced to this site by Trauma, and I've been hooked on. I've been quite amazed by it's simplicity (note: all stick figures), and subtlety of the webcomic.

Anyway, so inspired by the works of Randall Munroe, I thought I'll try coming up with something similar. Well, after a lot of time doing nothing productive, this is the best I could come up with. Here goes nothing...

On the same (rather eventful) day, I went for another play. It was a Hindi play, performed by a group from Prithvi Theater. Prithvi has a wonderful philosophy. The theaters in the southern parts of Mumbai are becoming a haven for the elitist. Tickets are priced at a steep 300-400 bucks a ticket, and most people cannot afford it. So, Prithvi has started this new concept where they perform free of cost in this garden (open air). The audience are free to pay however much they feel the play deserves. For groups that have no financial worries (read: groups with RICH dads), this is the perfect way to make theater reach out across all strata of society.
The play was done in an open space at Horniman Garden at Fort. There was no stage as such, and one section of the garden had a bed. The rest of the garden space was covered with a chatai, telling us that this is where we were to sit. It was a very simple set-up. Behind the bed was a black curtain, and the green room (if it could be called that) was behind this curtain. The 'stage' looked like a bedroom and the people exited and entered as if they were entering or exiting the room.

This play was called - "Bed ke neeche rehne vaali". It is about this girl (called Ira), who has an imaginary friend (Manu). Manu lives under Ira's bed. Ira grows up with this imaginary friend, and they have a wonderful childhood together. They play together, talk, tease her brother, and do all sorts of things that friends do.
But, as Ira grows up, she starts forgetting this imaginary friend. She has been told to 'grow up' by her mother, so she starts believing that Manu is a childish indulgence and if she is to grow up, she should stop having imaginary friends. So, one fine day, Manu becomes a real person and comes out from under Ira's bed.
The play deals with Manu trying to reach out to the child in Ira, and Ira trying to rebuke her attempts. Initially, Ira refuses to acknowledge Manu's existence. She claims that Manu is some random person who is claiming to be her friend. But, Manu starts narrating incidents in their childhood to such intricate detail that Ira gets shaken. Ira knows that only Manu could have known these things, but cannot come to terms with Manu existing in flesh and blood.
Finally, Ira calls her mother, who tries to find out who Manu is. Everytime Manu is asked "Where do you live?", she replies saying, "Bed ke neeche". Finally, Ira's mother loses patience and calls the police to take Manu away to an orphanage. And just just when Manu is about to be taken away, Ira breaks down, and accepts her friend.

The acting was amazing! There were three kids, who am sure were not out of high school, fit the roles to a tee. Ira, Manu and Ira's brother (Chaitu) - each one of them was super! I guess they could relate to the characters extremely well, but all said and done, it was a flawless performance from them! But, most important of all, they seemed to be having a great time on the stage, and those vibes always make the whole experience of watching the play a pleasurable one.
My only real problem was with the director, who for some strange reason, was never introduced to the audience. Maybe, it was a self-directed piece, but again, they made no effort in telling the audience. Anyway, coming back to my problem, it tended to drag at places. There were places that desperately needed a few snips here and there, to cut out those unnecessary dialogues, those few lines that makes the audience groan "Yes, we got the point, now what?" I think it's extremely important that the play keeps moving all the time. And, especially good plays, one little stagnant moment and the play falls flat!
But, I guess I can live with that,.

I just loved the theme. There is the constant battle within Ira - whether to accept that she's a child and to embrace Manu or to be a grown up and ignore Manu. The way the mental battle was depicted was very nice. Also, the girl who played Manu was perfect. She was exactly what one expects an imaginary friend to be - perfect! She has infinite patience, is aways bubbling with energy, however much Ira tries to shun her, Manu is always back. Somehow, the innocence in the kids and the theme seemed to perfect, it left me in a sense of awe and wonderment!

On the very first day of my vacation, I watched two plays. The first play was a 10am, Sunday morning matinee. In this first section of the set, I will describe what was the first thing I endured in my summer vacation.

I don't think I'm some great actor. Yes, everyone should be given the priviledge to perform on stage. Everyone should have the experience of those moments when hundreds of people have their eyes locked upon you. That feeling when you know that you have the power to make everyone's evening an unforgettable one. And, when this power is abused, it enrages me. And, it is with this anger that I write today!

I was really excited about the Konkani play festival. Konkani is a dying language, and I am a supporter of any attempt to encourage literature in Konkani. The number of Konkani's in the world being less than the number of Tamils in Adyar, it is difficult for such a language to survive, and plays in Konkani are really hard to come by. I was really looking forward to a true Konkani play.

I flew in to Mumbai after submitting a project report which I now realised was inconsequential (I shall soon describe this too, but for now, let's stick to the play). My parents picked me up from the airport. They came straight after watching the Saturday night play. The play on Saturday evening was super! Every review drooled over the play, and everyone I met in Mumbai praised it to high heavens. Hence, moments prior to the play on Sunday, the whole hall was abuzz with excitement. Everyone expected the play that had the prime spot (Sunday!) to smash all records set by any Konkani play before. How wrong we were!

It was terrible! There is nothing I can really say about the play other than, "it was terrible!" Now, where should I start? The normal practice is to give one concise paragraph with all the things that went wrong, but this time, I'm going to deviate from this normal practice, and describe in detail what unfurled that day.

First things first, the story was weak! The story had absolutely no pace whatsoever. I refrain from using the word 'slow' because that would imply that the story did move somewhere. This story just refused to budge from where it started. The story is about this one family. The man has lost his parents and his wife in the last couple of months. He lives with his two kids, and plays the role of mother, father, and grandparents to the kids.
In this house, there also lives a servant. He claims to be their distant relative, and forces himself onto the family. He assumes the role of a servant (how? why? I don't know!) and starts helping the family. The servant is non-believer of the hygiene culture and this is made clear by the father and kids who keep asking him to have a bath and wear fresh clothes. His cooking is also well below what is expected, and one wonders why this family lets him stay. After a long period of outdated jokes, the scene changes, and another old uncle enters. This uncle has come with the intention of making the main man, our hero, remarry! After convincing the hero in a jiffy, (the audience is left wondering if our hero really even cared for wife number one), Uncle sets his sights on convincing his American niece (our hero's sister) to remarry.
What is really admirable is the convincing skills the playwright gives this Uncle. In one discussion, he convinces the Hero to remarry. Using this same skill set, he convinces his thirty-seven year-old spinster niece to marry. And, his brilliant selection of a wife for our hero is extremely well-taken by the kids, who seem to show no care for their real mother, and embrace their step-mom as if she was their mother never existed.
Coming back to the story, the hero promptly gets married. And the sister returns one day, and it is revealed to the audience that the servant is really a billionaire, who was the childhood sweetheart of the sister, and has now married her. Now that the hero's parents are no more (the parents were against the sister marrying the billionaire), the sister has decided to make her marriage public, and everyone lives happily ever after.

The story itself was capable of sinking the play, but just to make sure, the lead actor forgot his lines. The prompter had as many dialogues as the hero, and I was of the opinion that he should have been given the lead role instead. Also, the hero found his own lines unbearable funny, with a grin stuck to his face that not even the saddest of lines could remove.
There were one too many nails in this coffin!

At the end, during the curtain call, it was revealed that the whole cast was from just one family. Every single cast member came from the same house. Now, it might be of great pride to them, that they pulled this off, but I'm sorry, just because you are a great actor, that does not mean the rest of your family can act. this would have been a super hit in some family get-together, but when it is such a prestigious event like a festival, I'm sorry but good actors is the need of the hour.

They tried their level best to make the play enjoyable, but their methods were terribly outdated. I'm sorry, but a dance number in the middle of a play is rather hard to digest. Children forgetting their mother who died in an accident two months ago and embracing their step-mom is impossible to accept, and jokes which might have been funny fifteen years ago are not funny any more.
What the play needed was that it be shelved for another, better play. A new play, with new actors, a new story and a new everything! That is the only thing that can really save that play.

I hope there weren't too many people like me, who came only to watch one play. I wish I could go back in time and watch the plays that were staged on Saturday and Friday, but alas, if wishes were horses.....

While surfing the net, I decided to read the blog of Mr. KirubaShankar. I've heard about his blog from lots of people, Nikhila, Vijay and even some people at IIT. So, out of curiosity, I read the first article. It was about cyclists, and how most bike riders deem them unimportant. Now, being a bike rider who has graduated from riding cycles to Besant Nagar and back, I have my reservations about giving unending sympathy to cyclists. But, that's not really what this is about.

This is about one YouTube video that I saw. It's quite amazing! Have a look, and trust me, you will be amazed! Happy watching...




Killer, no?