"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...