NOT random.

Aj lazy dog jumps over the quick brown fox.

2011-10-14T00:17:00.001+05:30

An amazing anecdote
about an adventitious altar:

Baked beans blast boring boulders,
briskly bringing back bricks - blue but black.

Cacophonous coloured clocks count,
calling cauldrons of Can.

Developing diagrams depict
delusional diamonds displaying dreams.

even eternal, equally ephemeral,
eight eigenvalues exact equations.

fizzling fits force Floyd,
fighting figments for Final formation.

Great God generously gave,
Grub generated, gallons gyrated.

Heavy Hands handle Heavens,
Holding Hell , heralding Horace.

Indigo inundated India's Indus,
informing ill,ignorant innocence.

jealous jokers jauntily joke
joylessly jesting justless Jews.

King Karna kindled Karnataka,
kindly kissing Karma.

Lovely ladies lay,
luring lined lunatics.

Me Me moron,
my man Manu!

No no nutjob ,
never never!

O O Oormila,
of ordinary onyx ornate.

Please pass pity,
prune pikes poorly prudent.

Querulously Queen Quincy quietly quorums
"Quality Quills Quick!

Rape Revolting Retards,
regretlessly rapture regenerating rogues!"

So slaughtered sixty six servants,
seventy seven simpletons.

Tired trying toppling tyranny,
tenaciously talk, the technical Tarzans.

Unless Ulysses' unreturned unsavoriness
ushers unspeakable unto us,

Vendetta vandalizes virtueless victors,
vindicating virtue, vilifying vile.

Where, When, Why
would wise woman woo

Xanthate Xanadu Xanthomizes
Xylaphoneless x-mases

Yes, you yearn yellow
yet yellow yells, you yapping yahoo!

Zaire's zephyrs zanily zap
ze zealots's zed.

Of Nikola's Vision

2011-10-10T10:49:00.001+05:30

If magnetic lines circulate time varying electric currents, should I not say magnets are bunches of electric current thrown to distort

Serenity.

What I learn today is this - vector fields are of two kinds - one called solenoidal from the greek word for pipe-shaped and the other

called irrotational field which means it is making itself to be represented as a dot product with any scalar field phi. We see these kind

of measurements for example on images for analysis and processing and such. The solenoidal or if I may, the rotational fields are

those which can be represented as a dot product with a Vector Potential A, such that the field v can be written as v = del X A.
Therefore, the dot with a cross product is bound to be zero too. This seems to be the foundations for the need for differential

calculas. We are highly indebted to Newton/Laplace for Calculas for they sat on shoulders of Giants then and today we on them!
Coming back to Electromagnetism, Magnetic field lines compose are solenoidal vector fields.

The Gauss' law make sense because Electric field lines exit positive charges and enter negative charges. If these charges are unsteady

over time, they give rise to time varying electric currents which in turn give rise to magnetic field lines. So, if we want to count how

many charges are on a closed surface, we just need to count the number of field lines coming out of each of them. After all, when we

break down large charges, they are after all composed of units of electrons. These charges are funny things. One day, a scientist said

that the quality of possessing something is negative and of not having is positive. On the other hand, our intuitional language tells us

that those that have should be positive and those without negative. This is pretty baffling.

After enough digression, I return back to the fact that the charge existing on a closed surface is established by just counting the

number of magnetic field lines. The denser magnetic field lines are nothing but responses of unequal distribution of charges. For

you see, before the creation of anything, everything was plain and motionless, serene as serene can be. In one astronomic expansion,

charges rearranged and set the clock in motion. Tick tock tick tock, it painted Creation, visible in infra red today and in the deepest

abysses of the electronic spectra.

That said (the fact that Gauss' Law is one of Maxwell's equations), the other is the magnetic counterpart. It says that there are no

independent magnetic poles, just lines of force going in loops and loops unto infinity. The do produce infinite lines, but their

geometry is a study I would love to be a part of. Because, not only are their geometries dependent on the geometry of charge

distribution, the very concept of a force's direction would be a great thing to look at. Thus, we can say that, for a plane that is perpendicular to a Gaussian surface, the number of magnetic lines that enter and leave cancel each other. Thus, this makes me wonder. It basically means to say that the forces are all the same.

Wait the fuck up!

2011-10-02T03:19:00.001+05:30

for a brief moment of clarity in jumbled space...

there lights in the box, a convincing path through the maze.

a path that instructs the mundane.

no twisted dissembling or ideas profane.

no - not even the overdrove path of Desire,

for the Light shines at it’s end only like the tip of a pyre.

in the Visible, I see the solution

an anticlimactic version of pure reason.

Yet, as the box spins - devoid now of clear air,

I shout, ‘Wait the fuck up’, in severe despair!

A Thirsty Quench

2011-08-23T17:21:00.002+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITAG6KagJ_I

Unkown are those people whose love met with love.
When we asked for lovely flowers, I got a garland of thorns my dove.
Unkown are those people whose love met with love.
When we asked for lovely flowers, I got a garland of thorns my dove.

Happiness Buildings I searched, though Sorrow's sawdust I received.
Happiness Buildings I searched, though Sorrow's sawdust I received.

Of Desire's Melody I desired, though my eye meets pieces of cold stone.
Heart's load clouded and went away, that Sad Thirst, I again got one.
When we asked for lovely flowers, I got a garland of thorns my dove.
Unkown are those people whose love met with love.

left Behind, oh left so astray, oh I got so left Behind,
after giving every friendship of a moment or two with.

Who has the patience to clasp the Lunatics' hand.
To us, even our own shadows oft appeared ghastly and bland.
When we asked for lovely flowers, I got a garland of thorns my dove.
Unkown are those people whose love met with love.

If this is what they call life, like this we will lead life.
If this is what they call life, like this we will lead life.
Won't utter a whiff, won't ever complain, drink our own tears of pain.
From sadness to be scared how am I to be,
Sad, He got me a hundred times from early.

When we asked for lovely flowers, I got a garland of thorns my dove.
Unkown are those people whose love met with love.

How it Ends.

2011-07-22T12:00:00.003+05:30

My maternal grandma passed away today. At 87, she was a vanishing shadow of her glorious past. The cause unknown, she breathed her last, amidst just the hallucinated images of unborn twins, my grandfather, and the heydays of her life. Not a worldly soul around, it was an ironic death, having raised three and almost four generations of children. It was an inconsolable loss to the big branch of the family tree that she left behind. She was a great granddaughter, daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-great-grandmother!

Here was a pretty girl, having won the heart of her husband when young. Married to an intellectual, she upheld the dignity of an almost First Lady with aplomb. As, the pages of her life turned yellow, much like her Vishnu Sahasranama, she was left to fend her dignity amidst property disputes, quarreling siblings and a dead husband.

All alone, here in the US, far away from the warm embraces of my own mother and father, I am reconciling this great loss. Yet, on the other hand, words of a wise man is like a glowing lantern 5 miles away, while I stand in frozen waters on a cold wintry night. The words are there, hapless in the face of my misery. Then again, I heed those words "She led a fulfilling life and accomplished great things. After this, her job was done." She was a fallen leaf at the dawn of day, as Peter Kavanagh puts it. She makes way for fresh leaves, green like the lawn at dawn. I see that freshness of life, the heavy priceless weight of a thought carried since centuries. She had transferred it into my nephew, her great-grandson. I know that he will carry that thought with the same grace with which she carried it.
I see her eyes in him.
I see her walk in him.
I see her curiosity in him.
I see her love for ice cream and bananas in him.
I see her in him.

Although a great tragedy, I think a deeper tragedy would be when the amma or ajji or aye-bai in us dies.

This song from Devotchka is a veiled star, in the night sky, shining is my grandma letting me know, How it Ends........

Hold your grandmother's bible to your breast
Gonna put it to the test
You wanted it to be blessed
And in your heart
You know it to be true
You know what you gotta do
They all depend on you

And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end

There is no escape
From the slave catcher's songs
For all of the loved ones gone
Forever's not so long
And in your soul
They poked a million holes
But you never let them show
Come on its time to go

And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end

Now you've seen his face
And you know that there's a place in the sun
For all that you've done
For you and your children
No longer shall you need
You always wanted to believe
Just ask and you'll receive
Beyond your wildest dreams

And you already know
Yet you already know
How this will end

You already know (You already know)
You already know (You already know)
You already know
How this will end

May Laxmibai Subbanagowda Patil (1924 - 2011) Rest in Peace

i am i, in the light of the i.

2011-07-17T02:38:00.003+05:30

I wrote a poem about a week back, when i wandered around as the imaginary constant i.
As it turns out, there were parts of the poem that didn't just look like mathematical allusions, but ideas we could associate with ourselves.

The Engineer in me insists that the mathematical meaning in the poem is not lost and so, I figured I would write explaining what I really had in mind, when I wrote this.
(It is amazing how the notation gave me freedom to do a duality of a biographical context of the imaginary context, as well as an almost autobiographical).

i was thrown into a numeropolitan,
painted with hues of pure emotion.

i was thrown into a numeropolitan - a city of numbers. Numbers, big and small everywhere. This little guy was thrown in there - with no real meaning. There was no reason for his existence and in many contexts, emotion is almost the antonym of reason. And so, I said that i was painted with hues of pure emotion - absolutely no reason in it.

Looking to find righteous company,
amidst the condescending reality.

i always looked for corresponding company. The reality there refers to the real numbers - the guys who would look down so condescendingly upon the imaginary number. When a real number 5 is added to an imaginary number, the result is tainted with segragation - 5 + i.

i gazed unto the pinnacles of exponents,
and the abysses of their complements.

i was wandering, wondering at the immensity of the large numbers like 10^100 and the infinite minisculity of the complementing small numbers like 10^-100.

and the giant factory of Equation,
churning strokes pregnant with information.

i also came across the grand idea of an equation - a place constructed by scientists and engineers, who churn out these numbers, that are packed with so much information and insight into the world they live in. The numbers that are nothing but a few strokes of a pen, are in reality so much full of information.

i was just a figment of pure imagination,
born to perform no real function.
Yet, i feel like a fuckin' mistress,
in the altitude of the high priestess.

the very name imaginary number is associated with this son of a gun. He has no real function. Nonetheless, the number is used, abused and thrown away in the mathematical hypotheses of High Thought.

i searched the partials and the voluptuous rounds,
and was chased like by a pack of angry hounds.

i looked absolutely everywhere for company, amidst the fractional numbers and the whole numbers and no one wanted to associate themselves with me.

i was going round and round in circles,
and met a madman chased since the time of Pericles.

and so, i was still looking around in circles, when guess who he meets! Mr. π . That beautiful constant who is being calculated since the 6th century BC, by Archimedes. Even today, π is chased - the current record stands at 15 trillion digits. That's correct - 15,000,000,000,000 digits after the decimal.

"Stay and wait with me for my darling wife,
any time now, she shall descend - the toil of Euler's life.

π tells i to wait with him for his wife - the exponential constant - Euler's constant e.

Together, we shall escape into reality".
to whom i said "why, it's your pop-in-law's identity!".

He tells him of this beautiful Truth called Euler's identity, e^iπ = -1 and tells him that the three most intriguing numbers in Maths can come together in an almost Holy Trinity to create reality!

And so, i roamed this universe,
whose response to me was always perverse.

And so, i just kept roaming around this universe of numbers, with the blemish of imagination on him.

and then it all came back to me,
i had known what was known to the Yogi.

At that point, it all came back to him. He had know what is known to the Great men of bygone age. Rabindranath Tagore says in Gitanjali "The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky"

i had found what i had needed in i.
i no longer heeded the words of hatred coming by,

And so, i had found what i was searching in himself. He had wandered the universe searching for something that was within. Because, the square root of negative one, requires just another of the same to be considered real!

for i was escaping into a world of reality,
little did i know, i was to shoulder the burden of negativity......

With this, the dreams of reality were being realized, but another blemish would show itself - that of being a negative one.

i am i

2011-07-11T08:03:00.003+05:30

i was thrown into a numeropolitan,
painted with hues of pure emotion.
Looking to find righteous company,
amidst the condescending reality.

i gazed unto the pinnacles of exponents,
and the abysses of their complements.
and the giant factory of Equation,
churning strokes pregnant with information.

i was just a figment of pure imagination,
born to perform no real function.
Yet, i feel like a fuckin' mistress,
in the altitude of the high priestess.

i searched the partials and the voluptuous rounds,
and was chased like by a pack of angry hounds.
i was going round and round in circles,
and met a madman chased since the time of Pericles.
"Stay and wait with me for my darling wife,
any time now, she shall descend - the toil of Euler's life.
Together, we shall escape into reality".
to whom i said "why, it's your pop-in-law's identity!".

And so, i roamed this universe,
whose response to me was always perverse.
and then it all came back to me,
i had known what was known to the Yogi.

i had found what i had needed in i.
i no longer heeded the words of hatred coming by,
for i was escaping into a world of reality,
little did i know, i was to shoulder the burden of negativity......

Towards the Sun.

2010-08-12T04:09:00.002+05:30

/Written for purpose of fond reminisce down the line. Read at the risk of boredom :P /

Its been quite a while since I transferred some of the muck from the boiling broth that is my head. Had been busy for preparations to start another phase of my life. Perhaps, the most interesting as yet. Because, for starters, my NOKIA 1200 wouldn't vibrate in violent blurts of Om Shanti Om, thanks to mom's BSNL-BSNL free connection going void, but also because most part of this phase will involve actual research which I am passionate about and diving into a culture I have known only in the sitcom shagging I have done for ages now.

So, aided by nauseous-PJ-studded tips on packing to the States, the bags soon filled with clothes, books, cosmetics and stationery. A last minute coup had the bags filled with close to 8 kg of assorted masala pudies from North Karnataka and frantic discussions on baggage policies of the airplanes. Gosh! First time air travel is an experience I would not wish for my worst enemy. It is not the experience per se, but the mental picture that I developed about my itinerary before bidding an emotional adieu at BIAL that was quite horrific. Kulki had his set of people to hang out with and I was left scrounging for company at the lounge, waiting for the Lufthansa flight. The flight was quite nice. I slept through the first movie, but managed to watch "Paa" in subtitles. After landing at Frankfurt, headed off to the Continental Terminal, after a series of elevator, train and escalator rides in the company of varied hairstyles of varied hues.

Changed a 10 dollar bill to euros, made calls to home,loafed around the lounges, bugged by the slow moving queues(!) at the airport, questioned extensively before getting the boarding pass stamped, and I was in for quite a ride to EWR, NJ. Watched half of Citizen Kane, episodes of 30 Rock and such, before filling out the I-94 and I eventually landed at the airport. The Immigration was not such a hassle as I waited for about 45 minutes. I had entered the USA :O!
My bags arrived safely and passed through customs with no issues. The man just asked me if I got mangoes! After exiting Customs, bags weren't rechecked as my flight was the next day. Called relatives after searching around to confirm if I really had to take my bags out. Stayed at relatives' place and had sound sleep, dinner and then not so sound sleep :| Left really late to the airport, because relative was confident that its ok to go an early for the flight. Turns out, I had missed the flight and I was rebooked (Thank the Lord!) This was probably one of the worst moments for quite sometime. There I am, in a completely new place, knowing no shit whatsoever of the airport structure, with 3 hefty bags on a rickety, 250INR (:O) costing trolley and a weighty backpack with supervaluable documents and going to and fro people who didn't seem to know where I should check in. After eventually speaking to someone, I cut some lines to reach the checkin and they rebooked me. Phew! The trudge - both physical and mental was bad on me, as I made past the through the airport security and soon, was able to get a phone card, make calls to arizona shuttle, to Nilesh in Tucson and my relative at NJ. Things then seemed to settle down amidst the chantings of the Vishnu Sahasranama. Landing at Phoenix, the Arizona shuttle people there were extremely helpful and the ride from there to Tucson and after was great and I was fortunate to have Nilesh come and pick me up in Rahul's car and I was finally in the University of Arizona and in my apartment. Well, ya thats it. That was the itinerary.

Critique of the critics :|

2010-06-21T17:29:00.000+05:30

OK, notwithstanding the immense, mostly unfounded criticism by my friends in college, I thought I had to make this (rather long) point :) . Has the cinematography hit such a stunning pinnacle that the audience comes to expect similar performances from something like the white wall face of Ash? Surely, histrionics is the hinge to good Cinema, but can’t we – just for the sake of a brilliant story-teller agree to look over the expressionless and mind-numbing performances?!

In all the brouhaha about ‘confused script’, ‘lame story-telling’, ‘expected ending’- have we chosen to forget what to expect and what to neglect when it comes to appreciating cinema. And I call it cinema and not a movie. You can expect a movie to have sudden twists, unexpected endings, and all the now-rather-cliched tricks of the trade. But Good Cinema – well it deals with the simplest of plots and what is crucial here is the way it is narrated. I agree there were blotches in the screenplay that could have been avoided, but the very manner in which the story unfolds and most importantly, the symbolism of every scene is so beautifully depicted. Has the Indian audience become so used to blatant black and white portrayal of emotions,characters and scenes that coded symbolisms refuse to make sense?!

‘There is nothing novel the viewers can expect’. I can only LOL, ROFL and what not at this ridiculous statement that seems to echo a common Indian-cine-going audience sentiment. The very perspective of the Ramayan is novel. Again, absolutely no recognition of this is even mentioned in the so called noted reviews. The Gray areas of Good and Bad are for one of the first times being carried on in Bollywood and what the Audience cries for is more melodrama in a more sophisticated and poignant manner.

Finally, all I can say is that for reviewers who think that Govinda’s acceptably good performance was the high point of the movie, it only exposes the shallow interpretation of a Masterpiece.

Raavan - A Review

2010-06-18T23:00:00.002+05:30

There was once a just king by the name Rama and there was an evil king by the name Ravana. Rama kills Ravana and saves Sita. Now thats the Ramayana for you and me. Well, the genius of Mani Ratnam meets a rather subdued perspective of the Ramayana in an epic called Ravan. A perspective that echoes the same sentiment as the temple dedicated to Ravana in one of the many unusual temples that adorn this country. A perspective where Soorapanaka was considered a beauty that was unparalleled by anyone. A perspective that recognises the various Grays of Good and Bad - just like the artistic appeal of the can of white that mixes with the sea of Black in the opening credits for this 5 starrer entertainer.

Set in the backdrop of stunning tribal locales, the opening scenes seem to reflect the chilling horrors of the recent Naxal massacre of the Men in Khakhi. Beera (Abhishek Bachchan) plays the eccentric dark protag, who dares to kidnap the belowed dancer wife of Dev(Vikram) - Raagini (Aishwarya Rai). The reason for this target becomes clear as the plot unfolds amidst thick jungles, heavenly downpour and of course cheesily crafted couplets from none other than Govinda! And as the fog lifts from this rather thick plot, the Ram in the Raavan and vice versa is seen. What is probably the most impressive thing about the movie is the way the plot reflects, in no real blatant manner, the actual Ramayana. Be it in referring to prominent motifs from the actual Epic to tailoring the characters to play the modern part, the handiwork of a Genius is seen.

The cinematography uses plenty of techniques to lend a unique feel to every scene - be it the crashing of the boats during the kidnap or the roundabout sway of the camera that keeps Beera in sharp focus. The Mozart of Madras leaves no stone unturned in composing yet another masterpiece. The background score during the climax in divine conjunction with the dialogues made for some of the finest finishes I have ever seen - Hollywood or Bollywood.

I might have missed a great deal in this brief review of a Masterpiece, which I hope to cover soon again. It's a must watch and so is RocknRolla btw :)

AJNA - Part 3

2010-06-11T08:24:00.002+05:30

Bibek Sabharwal was tried in Finland and as the ever merciful courts of that country pronounced a death sentence, more than one prayer was answered.
As the judges and jury and the grand army of conscience keepers listened to the chilling tales of pure terror, atheists believed in Devil.

After gouging out the eyes of the young women, he delivered a psychotic account of the problem statement. And the statement was not merely a concoction of constraints and freedoms in a fixed set of physical dimensions. The statement as they said, would help crossing ancient barriers of understanding across a wide range of research areas. The solution lay not in the objective abstracts of Maths, Geometry and Space, but in an inward journey.
He then tortured out an account of the inner landscapes the prostitute and the actress saw. It isn't sure how coherent or even truthful they were, but the Devil would have surely known the tricks. And as these vivid descriptions had spewed forth, he had seen a solution. The solution could not be represented as an n-dimensional matrix or as a formula or a word. It lay in a deep understanding of art and music. Severe contemplation in the midst of delirious brush strokes and cantabile notes held the key. The Mysore Mallige played host, as Bibek Sabharwal went on to recreate that audio-visual Einstein. The visions of Riika had provided the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

Even as the sentence was read out to him, not the tiniest bit of remorse were seen in his eyes. They sparkled on. It then hit me. Standing atop four hillocks in south-west coastal Karnataka in Southern India were grand monoliths, erected half a millenium earlier. The Devil's eyes chillingly mimicked theirs. The eyes of a person reflects not what the owner inherently knows but what you, as Grand Jury know about the owner's noesis. To just know that for centuries a pair of eyes lay fixated at infinity - seeing the world go by, it's greatest triumphs and it's saddest tragedies. Seeing massive and yet infintesimal technological and intellectual breakthroughs. Aah! The Bliss! What Bibek Sabharwal reflected in his eyes, I would never know had it not been for my personal investigation. Even my supposed Sixth Sense would never have hinted it. Yet, as the story unfolded, the sinistrality of that stare rose to a chilling climax - one of having known All. And as I put away today's copy of the Helsingin Sanomat, I feel like I had glimpsed - just a momentary bloodcurling glimpse of the Agna - The Third Eye.

AJNA - Part 2

2010-06-10T08:06:00.000+05:30

The Finnish papers had screamed how gruesome the death of Riika Haikkinen was. The blue eyes of the mother of one-year-old Kimi had been gouged out as the hollow spaces of her once beautiful face screeched of morbidity. The efforts of Olaf and the Polissi had paid off as the as yet undecomposed body and pale body of the young actress lay in the frigid depths of Scandinavia. The press traversed annals of national well-being and literary successes to dig out the files of Elya Linnanein - a teenage prostitute murdered in the same horrifying manner as Riika. Surely the recent developments pointed fingers to someone other than Elya's greedy pimp.

I could see the dark side of what they call human psyche when the august presence of Bibek Sabharwal made itself known at the reception of Mysore Mallige - my humble motel among the thousand lakes in Finland. My mother's sixth sense about me possessing one had proved horrifyingly right as I stared at the stone cold body of Elya Linnanein. The suspicions had been confirmed when the country watched in horror, the fate of Riika Raikonnen. There was more to prove the cause of Bibek's inculpation. On both occasions, he had left the motel for a week and returned with a look of great Divinity on his face. I had seen that sparkle in the eye which I couldn't recollect then. I decided to play Polissi and downed shutters on the Mysore Mallige and began my own private investigation.

The brat knew the landscape of this heaven and many of it's higher servants as enquiries about Sabharwal drew queer and suspicious looks even as they so blatantly screamed of guilt. After two days of a deadlock, I made a tiny breakthrough as the Idukki seeds popped the truth out of an old junkie at a pub in the outskirts of the city. 'Laila's' was a whorehouse outside the city that was notorious for it's bondage fetish encouragement. A dozen more seeds later, a terrible story would unfold.....

AJNA - Part 1

2010-06-09T17:26:00.001+05:30

Except for that glint of silver in the overcast skies, all was bleak and dull at the university gates. Prof. Bibek Sabharwal had returned after his hiatus at the turquoise lakes in the Scandinavian snow. Millions of eyes lay fixated on the noisy feed from the few good men fortunate to have arrived at the hallowed gates on knowing that Sabharwal had made a rather covert landing in the wee hours of that sleepy Sunday morning.
In another couple of hours, satellites would spew out HDTV data with detailed stories, as Dr. Sabharwal would peel out another layer of that 'Third Eye'.

"Get out of my way! Scoundrels!", yelled the octogenarian at the inane cameraman who had dared to step on the 1940 'Welcome' jute mat he and his late wife had bought during their honeymoon. "You filthy bastards can't wait for another two hours when you have waited for an eternity and six months?!".

The dazed cameraman withdrew to puffs of A-1 and Kulla Kulli BDs as superior equipment was to be airlifted to this distant town. 'The lunatic will step out on this very mat and lead us to another hopelessly obscure and useless trip of his! And to think that the world's top dogs would move sky and earth to procure his research!'. This wasn't the first time that the cameraman had come to this town of self-absorbed cretins. That lunatic had returned from those very lakes a couple of years back and a year before that. He claimed he had seen the Third Eye. He had the visualization that would serve as the missing pieces to more than one conundrum faced by a broad range of academia across the globe. Tall Claims! Bah! What did Gulshan care?! The trippy wrapper of the Kulla Kulli BD would give him company as long as the bucks trod in.
God knew what new insight this eccentric had planned for mankind in the pregnant hours that would unfold now.........

The Heart of Darkness - Review

2010-05-29T17:55:00.002+05:30

Even as the title itself suggests the intent of the writer in describing the darkness of more than one kind, Joseph Conrad's novella goes beyond portraying the harsh rainforests of Congo or the morbid depths of human psyche or even the tyranny of imperialistic rule.

What was most impressive about the book was how Conrad explores and describes situations and experiences in the Heart of Darkness that is Africa. His contemplation on the cannibals' restraint in a certain episode or his narration of the sighting of the wild primeval men and his appreciation of their raw humanity like yours and mine or his facetious comments on high-handed Imperialism or describing Kurtz's 'Intended''s mourning a year later - an entire gamut of human expression is traversed.

One of the most striking features of this book is how the author describes the life-like quality of the wilderness and the almost phantasmagorical description of his crew's trip down the Congo river into the true Heart of Darkness.

Apart from a plot narration that swings to and fro in a pleasing manner, the author is able to address the reader's qualms about certain of his assertions through characters who interrupt his narration that happens in the surreal setting of the Thames that Conrad so beautifully describes.

One Man's Dream

2010-05-20T17:10:00.004+05:30

Ever since the advent of Wikipedia, it's variants and more importantly the idea of Web 2.5ing, there was always this sub-conscious effort from my side to be relevant in the accumulation of the most obscure of facts about the most obscure of places and people. Not only has my active participation been a rather interesting phenomenon, but the idea of a person who I would never have even imagined that I would meet, hooks up and we end up spending hours fighting virtual Mafia wars, the concept kind of starts getting a little trippy. These phenomena no doubt exhibit characteristics that are so profoundly impacted by time - just like the supposed maturity of a person or the understanding of the world or the more and more compact stuffing of switches and devices in a tenth of a micron square. But this particular aim of 'world knowledge' and a 'single consciousness' no longer begs but commands our attention as more and more rapid progress is being made in all fields concerned.

I don't think there are many people and I am sure you are not one among them - people who don't wonder whether the 'RED' you and I see is the same or not. Even our basic instincts to stimuli are questioned and delved to find if we really are fundamentally the same or not. It is one of the harsh realities of life that we are stuck as who we were born as and that the way we perceive things is not going to change for a while (except of course, when Lucy throws a couple of diamonds in the sky sometimes). It is either too comforting to think that or too discomfiting to think otherwise that we tend to feel, see , hear, taste and smell things in an astonishingly similar manners.

So, given the kind of 'optimizing' background I am from, there is a need to look into this redundancy of 'consciousness'. Yes, varied experiences through similar channels serves as a good explanation. But, either the cynic or the tripper in me wants to see beyond that. To see that we ultimately are going to be part of global hub of 'consciousness', where the most minute of senses are transduced to numerical signals and where even the most faintest of physical activity leaves it's mark. A script of paper penned a century earlier has it's effects that can be felt across by everybody in the future. When Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote his essay on history, its perhaps this he adverted us to. The fact that Hisory is not a mere repition of facts or a lesson to be learnt to not make mistakes in the future. No. History is beyond that. History is about understanding of the idea that a part of a web of consciousness had horrified a part of Europe and that Archimedes had run the streets of (Greece?) naked, apparently jubilant over a solved Physics problem. History should be viewed in that way and when it is, a greater sense of belonging comes over you.

Returned home, busted and sober.
Yes, please listen to Yaani's One Man's Dream ;)

Hom.. aaah!!

2010-05-07T16:55:00.000+05:30

It is with great pain and with little repentence I question beliefs that have become so ingrained in our society and way of thinking today. It is still so shocking to see babies thrown from atop buildings and burnt in bonfires in the name of black magic. But lets just take a step back and analyse what we have called black magic - an attempt to achieve ends my means that have no justification or reasoning, but are based purely on the whims and the divine afflati of old men witnessing mescaline sunsets and perhaps having necrophilistic tendencies. They say that the scriptures that were and are studied with such great veneration is really a description of the held ideas of those days and it is despicable that even today we decide to judge people and ideas based on our ability or even our willingness to shower that same veneration.

The concept of God is a fundamentally personal one. It is just as bizarre to think of an old man looking at us from the sky as it is to bank
on divine interference for RCB fans when Kallis is on strike with 10 runs required to win from 10 balls! But bizarre has never been bad for a race that went through from wild animal hunters, foragers, warriors, kings, Godmen, God-kings, paedophiles and sex addicts. But when a completely impersonal and bizarre idea is obtruded on your face, it starts to peeve people off and my rant today is exactly this.

Some horoscope man my Mom spoke to, told her that I was not getting what I deserved and hence a homa was in order. I do not understand this - some old man, who has never met me in life, tells me that I have worked too hard and that I am not getting what I deserve. And to top it all, he thinks lighting a pyre and chanting a few words would get me out of this supposed rut. And to think that so many of us are blind followers of such customs is only astounding.

Sure, it gives a great sense of comfort to know that when I have worked hard, there is some wheel of life that takes care to give me the points, so I can reap them sooner or later to get what I want. It may give comfort to all mellow believers and fanatics alike. But as I said, where does this end? When will it become deeply etched in our consciousness that we are our destiny creaters and holders and that passion for anything is passion for your God. As long as we don't do things that we don't expect people to do us, we are good to go.........

Valedictory Address - NITK Ring Presentation Ceremony

2010-04-30T22:28:00.002+05:30

Good evening Mr. S.S. Mantha ,Chairman of AICTE, Mr. B.R.Bhat, respected Directors, Deans, our beloved faculty, staff and my adorable friends. We are gathered here on the solemn occasion of valediction after four years of what almost 500 students can vouch for as their best times in their life. From naive, idealistic, sober juveniles, we have transformed into mature, sometimes high-spirited individuals who shall be passing on the baton that has been so regally passed on for the past 5 decades in this Institute. Looking at all the high-flying batches pass out in front of us over the past four years, there was always a sense of trepidation that we might just drop the baton at this critical juncture. Well, it turns out that the army of individuals that are seated here in their best of attire have attained what has been rarely achieved and what will be tough to emulate in the years to come. Be it in landing some of the finest jobs in the market, admits to the finest Technical and Business Schools across the country and the world, or be it in chasing their long-cherished dreams, we have made each other proud!

I still remember the day my Dad left for Bangalore after dropping me in college. The flyover outside SBI gate wasn't there and as I made my way back to the powerless hostel block, I can still recollect how I tried fighting my tears back by staring at the lone streetlight on the road. I was lucky, I had friends from school till I could make new ones. It was not long before I was discussing about the taxi situation in Mumbai, the JEE coaching situation in Bhopal, the Burj Hotel in Dubai or talk about making trips to Puri with an Oriya friend. The hostel served as the true melting pots of culture that the Pandit had envisioned of India five decades back. Speaking of pots, plenty lurked in the dark rooms of the mess as they waited for the sambhar that would so lovingly be downed by us fortunate souls after a hard day's work at the dingy EG rooms. The regular bi-monthly trips to Bangalore for laundary and take-back goodies was to become weekly as hordes of us waited to pounce on a Friday or Monday festival and take back the Mangla Expresses, Durgambas, Pragathis, Airatvathas and General compartments, only to return a kg fatter. As we proud NITKians attended our very first Incident and Engineer, it started to become a foundation to what was to be witnessed in a couple of years. Juniors got to familiarize with seniors - be it on courts, fields, quizzes or ill-lit but happy air of the final block. Soon, after a reality check of End-Sems of 2nd sem, we were to return and we celebrated our entry to the department with paper dances and pizzas. The whole lot of us sweated it out through the hot sun and torrential rains alike with 8 hours of packed schedules. Being from our Electrical department, I was soon left to only recall such schedules with fondness.

Internships and projects were being hunted the world over as we saw yet another batch pass out with flying colours. Responsibilities with technical and cultural festivals and clubs began to slowly fall on our shoulders. The effect of the club structure in college became evident as teams went across - winning key quizzes, concerts, personality contests and what not, across different colleges in the country! Academics never took the backseat as the college teams aced major co-curricular events - including robotics, Racing, vision-bots, coding and paper presentations. Semester five began with new rooms and roommates and not so new problems like the heat and rains. This was to be the last and the toughest year of toil in our pursuit of the coveted degree. Our year went into relapse, suddenly hit by recession and it's effects. As we sunk our heads in dusty books, on dusty tables sipping cold chocolate, capaccino and eating veg noodles, we relived the initial days of college. And then, it was over. Final Year had come! NITK junta could yet again be found in the academic corridors of IISc, LSE and across Europe, pursuing their internships and projects in that one final lap before the grand applications process began. Placement fever began, with untouched textbooks being explored in the comforting environs of home. The TIME mock-aptis had begun and we soon returned to college with a lot of hope from this academic year. Placements picked up massively and pretty much everyone who wanted a job were placed. Soon, the admits poured in from all corners of the globe - Stanford, CMU, Columbia, Norway, France and everywhere. GATE results came too and some sensational performances have landed the toppers in some of the most prized Institutions in the country. After all the brouhaha over CAT, there was an extraordinary performance by this batch. Yet again, there will be a large amount of NITK presence felt across all the IIMs - especially A,B and C. So, as we celebrate the end of what has been the most memorable roller coaster ride, we prepare ourselves to bid each other rather tearful goodbyes. Our effort towards Smriti and Vitruvian is only a step in this direction - so that they form tangible forms of reminisce decades down the line.

So as we bid our final goodbyes to the beach temples, the egg rotis and maggi at Sundar's, the first year maggi at Nescafe, the samosa belting and Amul kool guzzling, the watermelon juice at Samudra Darshini, the half fry and Jeera rice and lime at NC and so much more, we will forever remember these sights and smells, even if a lifetime of more comfortable and less pungent fragrances beckon. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Shettre for his wonderful running of Samudra Darshini and the Night Canteen. A boon on campus, the food here - healthy as it comes, served hundreds of hungry stomachs - through fests, exams and parties.

Having recalled all the nostalgic elements that had become so ingrained in our lives, it would be a blunder to not be thankful to the people because of whom all of this has been possible. The faculty who were more than just that - being friends and confidantes during problems and dilemmas, the staff that helped us not just during End semester exams , the mess workers for their round-the-clock unappreciated service, the librarians, the sweepers, the guards and so many others who we knew only by face.

So today, as we stand here, as Kadu last year said 'at the brink of the start of yet another rat race', the ring that is symbolic on so many levels will be presented to us. I say symbolic because I guess it represents the act of crowning the finger that has gotten into so much pain - through the lenghty papers and all that. And what better way to pay a tribute to it than have the ring etched with the name of the alma mater that I am sure all of us will fondly remember.

I guess I have taken quite a bit of your time, so let me conclude this. It will be tough saying goodbye to all of this but it should be done. And as I prepare to do so, I know I will stare back at that very street light I had seen four years back and fight my tears back, one final time. It would perhaps be fitting to end this long speech by a small quote that has formed the philosophy of scores of achievers - And that is To Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish. Thank You everybody.... Hope you have a wonderful evening and dinner!

Dewwina Rathriyalli....

2010-04-23T02:30:00.001+05:30

They are right here! Not rinsed in the blinking stardust of a moonless night. Not lurking in an abstuse alcove waiting to take you down. Not drenched in 40-year-old muck in a defunct tap on a deserted building. Not through the ups and downs of an electromagnetic field from the TV and the muck-girl with all that goo, poo and her circular voodoo.
Death is just a continuation of life, only unbeknownst to the whole world. You take the same few steps to the bathroom and the same number of strokes will clean the eternally yellow teeth and the same watery coffee at the mess. We just lead life like we always did and 'die' like we always will. The chain is an extended one, being a speck on that circumference that spans by an unimaginagly large radius. So it is freaky to know that when I am alive, the little mind games in the mind are not really games and funny they definitely aren't. Who said that the little nudge that caused the movement of the chains in the stairs at home wasn't supernatural.

These days have been good... nostalgia kicking up.... ran 10 (5-3-1-1) rounds today and also played some good bball with the team bros. Have sprints tomorrow,,, hope to win :P cheap thrills for sure and bragging rights :D..... want to write a great deal... no mood presently... signing off with some psychedelic shit from Philip Glass...

The Opening....

The End of the Line.

2010-04-20T14:48:00.004+05:30

The last 4 days have not been unlike running from a Jungle of outlandish growth and trying to tread on that little line of sanity just above the murky waters of hopeless phonecalls, SMSes and Facebook shag. Needless to stay, cloudy smoke ,courtesy Deshi and gang had me fall into those very murky waters. Gut-spitting retching later, sweat beads and motionless fans conspired yet again and I tripped. Memories of the first trip came back to haunt me and this time, I just let be. It was like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds!

Next day morning involved massive amounts of damage control as things settled down. My visits to the sixth floor didn't stop with others joining in the trip. Moga, Babbar, Mota, Behera and Rahul Babicz tripped balls too!

Trips to the deans office and chilling in that heavenly AC was something I got used to for the next couple of days. The photographs and the starched shirts and ironed pants and polished boots and shaven chins joined in the party as the photographs were shot in receding sunlight with the cool smell of a 100 deodourants wafting in....

Been sober for a couple of days now... excellent spicmacay farewell, trical dinner, drunkyard, Hope to see more.... Should be fun.... lots of trippy research in the college i am joining.... insect vision, cancer imaging and ultimate cancer cure and all that... should be heading there.... waiting for the iimb results which dont seem to be in a hurry!

So until next time.... Vitruvian will keep me busy... You will LOVE it!

PS : Dedicated to the 6th floor D wing buggas and heres wishing the RCB cool scenes at the DY Patil stadium... hope the God gets out early!

How the Swine Flew

2010-04-13T16:12:00.000+05:30

This was just too good to be true. An entire week passing off without the sound of another del-ro-by-del-eks and del-whys . No Loop equations or the equally indigestible node equations. A hundred score less frantic hits on the already fragile Fx100MS. Boy, this was a win-win-win situation - the scheming Durgamba owner being the unlikely victor in this propitious bargain. All that needed to be done was a little sneeze and a couple of coughs from that large repertoire. Had they not come in handy during that awkward moment with her parents in the lift, or during that unbelievably lucky day during DSP endsems, when Squeak questioned me on FIR-filters and all I could muster was a sudden bout of coughing sprinkled with random utterances of 'band-pass' and 'frequencies'? Surely, my performance this time would be worthy of a Swine flu infection suspicion. If Paranoia Pandu ORDERED a week's leave for an innocuous sneeze at the ice-cold laboratory, surely the planned bouts would get me out of this sultry and unpainted building for a fortnight. At least. Ever since H1N1 displaced H1B visas from the most searched H1* phrase on Google, poor Pandu had adopted all-the-more cautious measures to maintain hygiene. He wasn't prepared to go without his wife's freshly cooked meals for a week once again. The little family had it's first encounter with the porcine nemesis a fortnight earlier. A dozen visits to the deathly dispensary and a couple of frantic nightouts at his little daughter's smouldering forehead was enough for Pandu to learn to spot the tiniest of infection from around his neighbours. Now that everything was back to being the way it was, there was going to be little patience for handshakes and public transport. If he had his way, the institute would be shut off for an indefinite period till everyone had a certified clean blood test. Alas, it wasn't to be. Gone or to come were the days when newly tenured staff could control the reds and the greens of the institute calendar. But he could at least control the air around his throne. That 1968, rickety, wooden chair from which hundereds of M.G.Say problems were dictated, scores of tricalites berated and many a English word mutilated. No one could take away the right for clean air from where he towered over the hopeless sophomores. Even the virus' father won't come here, he told the interested first-bencher in his recently picked up, heavily accented Hindi. That simple brain of Pandu, drummed with Maxwell equations since 16 and pounded with Network analysis since 18 could not fathom there being liars taking advantage of his paranoia, like your beloved protagonist.

So it was going to be a sneeze and a couple of coughs - nothing fancy. So, I played it out. Aichoo.. and almost naturally, the duo followed. I looked up. PP was busy admitting two club minions make 'important announcements' about some Spanish dance workshop at the sports complex. Damn, that was one performance wasted. Anyway, I made a note of the workshop and mused over a date for the date. The characteristics of a good insulator ensued and I waited for the next opportunity to act out. It came sooner than I thought and I cleared my throat for an encore, when PP was distracted again! This time it was the GB-Mathas chance to stop and question the need to know the thickness of the insulator, when she still didn't know the heat characteristic of the substance. U-oh, this only looked easier than it actually was.
I was the holder of a record number of DOTA upsets and more than 100 games of AOE ended with a well-established city with a Wonder plundered to the ground. In short, I wasn't the one to give up. So, I prepared for the run-up once more. I picked the pace up, and just when I was at the bowling crease, ready to spit out an Akhthar, when that mechanised nut on the ground floor inferred it was the right time to hit that sweet note of brass - the bell went off. It seemed like the two decade prayer for that melodious trrring was being answered today in strident providence as a wicked Murphy smiled. Damn, it was not to be in this period. Anyway, the 100-mile stunner could be bowled during lab! The lab would have been a much easier place to catch Pandu's attention, given 20 heads engrossed in profound MATLAB coding and 20 others in mind-numbing Minesweeper. The screens would then swap appearances as PP would leave his chair to inspect his young scholars hard at work, and assume his place in the opposite side. He would then get back to his old seat and peruse the latest issue of Bijli-Bharath. The circus would continue throughout the torturous 3 hours, in punctual rotations. It would be during one of these little trips that I would make him aware of a crouching virus, ready to strike him at the drop of a faintest sneeze. Yes, that would be perfected.

Throughtout my half-burnt lunch, I prayed for a chance to be on the bay-aisle for the afternoon. In that divine afternoon nap, I dreamed of fully cooked chapathis and Stuffed Brinjals and frangrant clothes. Of torrents and of streaming speeds. Of 11am breakfasts and 4pm lunches and....'beep beep' the shrill DON ringtone on my 1100 screamed Transformers and Induction Machines Lab! A quick wash at the now squalid bathroom and 2 whiffs of Axe-Chocolate later, I was entering the hellishly cold laboratory. With an aisle seat captured with no real competition, I pretended to ponder over the problem Pandu had set for the 40, already muddled brains 2 weeks back. It had beaten even GB-Thayi to it and it seemed worth a shot. A shot at Mid-Sem exclusion and attendance relaxation were at stake for that elusive solution. As I eased myself on the cushions of the chair and half-dreamt of the sweet smell of Bengaluru, a revolution was happening at my MATLAB command window. Never before had Power engineering seemed so rosy. Never before had a solution been so explicitly clear. The nimble strikes at the keyboard produced unusally elegant code and before I knew it, the solution was staring at my face. PP went on with his Bijli-Bharath. A moment later, he started his pendulum-like walk to the opposite end. This was it, I would tell him the solution, have no midsem and also have an extra hour of sleep every morning with no attendance woes. It worked better than a fortnight of trepidation at Bengaluru. As I cleared my throat to call out the solution to PP, I discovered there was a little something stuck in my throat. As I maniacally coughed to get rid of it, the mucous in my nose had had enough of the devilish AC and I sneezed. PP heard this one alright. No bizaare event would come to my rescue now. Murphy just smiled on. As I struggled to recuperate and continue with my answer, Pandu had his verdict delivered behind a mask of embroidered handkerchief that I was to take a week off and return only with a certified blood test. An assignment on Current Ammeters was supposed to keep me busy at Bangalore. "Yes, and don't forget the midsems that start the Monday after that."

Surely, O'Henry didn't require a divine afflatus to pen The Cop and the Anthem.

Of Trips, Tricks and Treats!

2010-03-31T09:38:00.000+05:30

As the white circulating vapours slid through the long neck and were absorbed in one outlandish gulp, there was a lot to suggest the things to come in the next couple of days. Packing like an absolute amateur, I was up and ready for Hanni's treat followed by a trip to God's own Country at Munnar. The mad bus-ride to the hallowed portals of Taj was not uneventful, the Mr. ponks losing Hanni's bag in the bus, my front seat ride among glowing patches of red, white and yellow. Walking through the fish market, a littoral phantasmagoria of sorts was witnessed. Prawns, Squids and Fish had decided to swim the oesophagi of men and hence their predicament. Landing at the massively grilled iron gates, we were security checked and freed into the grandeur of Taj. Admiring the bibliophilous air and the leather cushions looking scalded in resplendent light, I climbed the stairs to be greeted by lime juice. Devouring it just like I did the incongruent mixture of grass and rat poison, I entered where the party was! There, decorating the wooden furniture were a hundered hungry and extremely fortunate souls. As I entered to take my seat amidst a nostalgic environment, I could recognise most of the people. As I undertook a mission to relieve pressure in the bladder, the party began. I scampered in for a place and had my soup. Food was aplenty and I was tripping on the origin of the food. A photo-session began and a friend was made in-charge. Incessant intra-table clicking induced me to intervene and daguerrotype the rest of Hanni's crowd. Some Page-300 party this was. Soon, it was time to leave. I was to go tripping with the IEEE crowd to Munnar.

As the mostly circuital crowd waited outside the gates, a few more lobby pics in the glorious light ensued. I then proceeded to take the last seat in the bus and as the bus headed out, my trip to Munnar had commenced. As soon as the ignition was on, almost automatically a hundered feminine sophomorish voices chorused popular Bollywood and Bryan Adams numbers. The heat and the privacy at the back got me to remove my denim pants and I enjoyed the beautiful journey in my boxers and Hawai Chappal. The night was spent, interspersed with dangerous speed-breakers, divine offerings and ATM and tea-breaks. The next day, as the Sun bummed his cigarette on Mother Earth, I woke up to be informed that I had just seen the birth place of the Advaita philosopher Adi Shankaracharya. The inspiration to pen the interpretation of Katha Upanishad must have come from his trysts with the river outside his birthplace. As the sun blew his penny whistle more shrilly and as I heard it far enough from Desolation Row, we were in Kerala! God's own country was to let loose and spoon-feed us with the most divine of Ambrosia. Soon, the whole bus was awake and we reached Annapoorneshwari Vegetarian Restaurant. Mild Ablutions ensued and we sat in to have some good breakfast. The Mallu version of the Laughing Buddha and the little kid was trippy as fuck. We boarded back and as we watched the movie 3 idiots,we went straight to the Idukki town of Munnar. We had come to Munnar Tourist Home. 5 Inter-continental chicks stood outside and that kinda told me the kind of crowd I could expect over the next couple of days. We chose a ground floor room and as a natural, all-pervading AC engulfed my environs, I inspected the mediocre bedsheets and loos and after I was pretty mind-fucked with the first couple of paragraphs from Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie, I had bath in freezing waters. We then set out to have dinner. Some littoral delicacies were being contemplated and we entered this Chinese place and I ordered some cool Chicken Biriyani and Fish Fry fried in coconut oil. Honestly, few things have tasted better in my life. A sweet pan outside and I was set. The strawberries acted as an almost orgasmic dessert. We proceeded to visit the Dam Site. Lined with shops selling home-made chocolate, Fried Butta, Strawberry milkshakes, spicy pineapples, the walk was pretty divine. As we walked on, a pachyderm threatened to ride on us as we tried riding it. The fragrance of the tea leaves never really took of form the slopes of the mountains, although we did our level best to pose like we rode the fragrant high atop the leaves. The descent seemed trickier but inch by inch we made it down. The clouds threatened to burst upon us, but they never did, except of course when we were in the bus. We soon found ourselves at Echo Point, where a score of doppelgangers said what you said and swore what you swore and screamed what you screamed. A Phail at the first gun counter had me charged up and even a recoil of my first shot did not withstand the fury of the next four bull's eye shot and my belting of Hanni's kids to it. We climbed the rooftop of the bus and almost had BK in a panga with a reckless Mallu Auto-driver. The Malyalam everwhere was quite an out-worldly experience, so my camera continued to click on. Later on in the night, we arranged for a bonfire after a very bad and expensive dinner at Silver Spoon. A desperate attempt to score some pot from the Bihari Pan guy Phailed like it did when I asked the first key-chain giving rifle guy. As Lakshmit belted out tracks to the crowd in the middle of the town of Idukki, I knew I had missed grass for a long time. So, I spoke to Vimal - the guy who had taken care of all the lodging and all. It was pretty cool. We then crushed and rolled like amateurs. Our bong got busted and we sat and did some shit and got high. I was gone in that corridor and scared a few girls apparently. Hanni's kid and Puru threw up and cheaply sobered up.

Next Day morning, had some hot water bath and had breakfast at the hundered and first Saravana Bhavan that I had was to see that day. Then, after tripping balls over moustachioed Mallu Thathas, Honeymoon couples and amazonian women, we headed back to the lodge and Jeevan asked me to score for 500 bucks more for the boys in the B-wing. So I did and I took pictures with them and then we set sail to this magnificent point that had a lot of tea leaves, rugged mountains and free space where we could get all the relief we needed. After a lot of pictures we took a U-turn and headed for Thrisshur. But, unfortunately, we had to also have lunch and we went that extra mile for the drivers' commission. Along the way, evern Dumb Charades was boring and the Centre Fresh did not make matters better. I tried thinking of some good memory and nothing came and in a desperated bid, I knocked at the driver's room and suddenly, one of our tyres blew and we waited in the hot sun for the repair and Duncan parked his car and tripped balls over us and the girls. Soon, we entered the AC hall for lunch and devoured every kind of fruit and meal that was there. Then, we packed off to go to the waterfall. It was late and enjoyed the panaroma from far off. We then stopped at some shady Solar Hotel and got Squid in coconut oil instead of fish in normal oil. I still ate it and treated everyone with a sweet pan and then slept. In the middle, we got down to wish happy birtday to Tushar and as Vatal and I looked to empty our bladders, he did a 'Shhh Koi Hain?" Scene. Quite scary. Then I dozed off only to wake up at GB. We had come to college. After the girls, we boys went to our rooms and as I smoked the Idukki shit once more, I was set for another month.

The Self-Score Tripyard

2010-03-29T08:02:00.002+05:30

Phoolon Ka Taaron Ka

As mother Earth spun around n trippy patterns like a speck of dust off a rugged old mat. And in that massive background shot an arrow, our hero. It was for this brother that the little sister spun. They had to live eternity and ithis was the message from the flowers and the stars alike. And as this tale went on, it was deduced that there were two ways out - be the infinity in infinity or go to the boundaries of thought and beat whats beyond - the ultimate Schrodinger's Cat. The former will provide a physically comforting and a psychologically pricking comfort in thought. The latter eggs you on. You realize that rest has been wiped out on that little speck of dust. The milli-speck that is you fights the quite visibly alive Schrodinger's Cat and leaves it to metamorphise into its dead counterpart. And we wait for the next trip.

Zindagi Ek Safar Hain

There can't be just two or three or for that matter just 11 as that lunatic claims. There have got to be a million. For you see, for ever cut across the earth, there lies a new dimension to be witnessed - quite literally since the light is flowing in straight directions. So, here is the Brave New Man with his woman (Yes, the feminists were silenced long before). He was to be the local
village hero. He was to fool the pesading horses, battering rams and thundering Cannon Balls. He did and he carved 20,000 leagues under the Sargossa Sea. Who new what new shape would
be assumed, who knows tomorrow. Live today and enjoy the dimension making run you Brave New Main. Thus Spake Zarathustra. Dead is to come, it shall come. Death is to arrive, so it shall
advent. Live it up now.

Hampi!

2010-03-01T18:31:00.003+05:30

The humps and the bumps of the road had a telling effect on our opinion of the yogasutras outside our lodge facing the Virupaksha temple. Musty bedsheets and rattled bowels cleansed, we set out on hired bicycles to explore the ancient ruins of the Vijayanagara capital of Hampi. As the cauldron blazed atop our heads, we stood the heat up and entered the temple. Couple of Garbhagriha visits later, we were left having to be awed by the monolith pillars, Yalis and pesading horses. Pachyderm assuagement and minority brownization later, we were exiting the doors to face the sun one more time. Cycling our way uphill, we were to come face to awed-face with the 4.5m huge, monolith Ganesha. Kadlekai Ganesha was uber-massive, so much so that only flashes of selective flesh made the cut to the sensor. Later, a series of Jaina-style Shaiva mandirs were seen along the downward slope. Firangs rubbed sun-lotion on each other's backs as I had my bladder relieved and studied the lintels and toranas of the ancient temples. Explaining whatever I could, we romped the unreal terrain scrounging for a chance to elucidate. The style and architecture represents, it seems a symbolism. To play out Earth on Earth. Walked back to the cycles and chatted up with the Aato rajas. Admired the less massive, but more elegant Sasivekalu Ganesha from a distance and headed towards the Krishna temple. Finally found some brown company there. Well, almost. Fine, intricate structures atop the crude granite slabs propels the faith of the sculptsman. Out-of-the-world Apsaras with the finest of endowments hold up motifs of the Dashavatara of Vishnu. Endlessly colonnaded halls were walked by, turtles in a holy water site were tolerated and citizenly activities performed. Eventually, we got out and headed towards the monolith Narasimha that sat majestically beneath no shelter. The Badavilinga neighboured him in space and not comfort zone - it came with a shelter. Frantic praying and more awe-inspiration later, we cycled some more distance further up and visited the less grand Chandikeshwara temple and passed on the Veerabhadra temple. Our gastric call became all too strident and we cycled to this cool restaurant called Mango Tree. Lunching with the firangs, the concept of Roti Curry was once again back to being national pride. A good meal later, we travelled back to the Main Bazaar and walked to its end to see the monolith Nandi that sits opposite the temple. This was also the base of the Matanga hill that would be scaled tomorrow. Presently, we saw ourselves manoeuvring the trippy terrain to reach the Achyutha Raya temple and wonder at it's collonaded halls and 500 year-old themes. Down this temple street was the Courtesan's street or the Soolai Bazaar. After a visit to the dry Pushkarni, we set out for the Viththala temple. This was supposed to be one of the more crucial spots in the Hampi itenarary, given its Stone chariot and musical pillars. The sunlight was receding as quickly as the gastric juices were rising. It was truly a grand site to watch the sun bid his goodbye with the temple at its foreground. A better photographer would have made much better use of the eerie play of light and cloud. The renovation at the main temple forced us to admire the acousitc brilliance of the Tuluvas from down below. As the moon came upon to twinkle upon the sky, we bid the majesty goodbye and frantically walked our way back to base camp. We recevied some real shady assistance and it was a wonder we returned safely on the other side. Picking our cycles from the traffic police station, we came to the Italian wooden oven restaurant. The trippy place had art on sale and the music, along with the people around had my senses heightened. Al Fungi, Falafel and Veg Sizzler later, we were down and out. There was a desparate move to score some pot but that didn't happen. The night passed on with quite a few incidents. The village without power and my sleep absent without the exercise. Eventually I had a very good sleep and we woke up the next day to find the sun already having risen. Not wanting to let that dampen our hopes, we still made sure we climbed the Matanaga hill, in the blissful heat of the morning sun. The trek was a little treacherous and we were well rewarded with coffee on top. After making it back down, we went to this place that was recommended in the Lonely Planet. The food was filling and we got our cycles back to exploring the ancient ruins. The site of a mutual support between two massive rocks has come to be called the Sister Rocks. Then, we visited the underground temple that was full of water at the Garbagriha. After a visit here, we visited the series of Islam architecture buildings that also characterised the Vijayanagara style to some extent. The ruins of the noblemen's quarters and all the royal buildings are extant only in foundations. We then came to the Hazara Rama temple. This temple has stories of Ramayana and the Luv-Kush story etched forever on it's walls. After circling the temple, chasing the plot, we chose to go to the Lotus Mahal. Not greatly thrilling, we found the elephant stables less wanting in the thrill factor. All the more thrilling was the Mahanavami Dibba, a building from atop which the festivals were celebrated during those times. Also, there was the majestic stepped tank. We then went to the ASI museum, after which we paid a brief visit to the Queen's bath. A majestic building, I wanted to lie down right there, lullabied by the echoes across the breadth of the massive pool. We then lunched at the KSTDC Mayura hotel and fo Mayura hotel and for once, we got our money's worth in food. After a decent lunch, we headed to the Saraswati temple and also saw the octogonal bath. Everything done,we cycled back to the hotel and changed and made for the bus to Hospet. A couple of hours later, we were on the bus headed for Surathkal. All in all, a fantastic trip. World Heritage Site 2 check :)

The Fifth of Nine.

2009-09-23T23:38:00.009+05:30

Well it turns out that satisfying trips to Mangalore can be made, even without a Twister at Cherry Square. We took one such trip last evening to witness the 'Mangalore Dasara' celebrations being held at Kudroli in Mangalore. Roads upto 3 kms away from the main venue were lit up and festivity could be felt in the air.
The main celebrations were happening at the Kudroli Gokarnanatha temple. It turned out that we didnt know much about Navrathri celebrations or it's significance. All I could connect were hazy dots about Durga Matha slaying Mahishasura, 9 days of festivity, proximity to Deepavali and that was pretty much it. Oh yes, also there was this one day on Saraswati Puja when the Resnick and Hallidays and the Parkersmiths would take a jaunt out of their dusty shelves and be wiped and worshipped. So, as I rode the supercrowded Express to Kudroli, I made up my mind to gain some knowledge about Navarathri.

The lane leading upto the temple was thronged, with the usual peddlers and beggars(Damn, I miss those summer vacation temple fairs at my village). The arrangements seemed nice and the lights looked stunning and the twilight was still receding slowly. We were bathed in blissful yellow light in the temple complex. Each of the temples dedicated to different Gods were beautifully decorated. The main attraction was the NavaDurga idols about which I will mention a little later. The Darshana was good and it was calm experience, the large crowd notwithstanding.
All in all, it just felt good to be there.
I suggest people close to Mangalore to take just a couple of hours and be part of the celebrations. You can alight at the Lady Hill stop and take another bus going to Kudroli. It will definitely be worth the effort.

So, as I knew very little about the significance of the festival, I thought I will do some research and it turned out to be a enlightening to say the least. In any case, I will just mention here, the Navadurga, Her Dhyaan Mantra and the English translation. I was fortunate to be able to capture some pics of the idols kept at the temple and I was happy that I learnt something about each of the idols.I have posted below, the Navadurga, along with the pictures of the idols at the temple.

Vande vaanchhit laabhaaya chandrardha krita shekharaam

Vrishaarudham shuladharam Shaila-putrim yashasvinim

May the illustrious Shailaputri Durga whom I salute and whose head is adorned by a halfmoon, who rides nandi a bull and carries a spear fulfill the desires of my heart,.

Dadhanakara Padmabhyam akshamala kamandalam

Devi prasidathu mayi brahmacharinya nuththama

May the supreme Brahmachari Durga, who holds rosary and kamandalu in her lotus hands and whose nature is to attain Sachchidanandamaya Brahmaswarupa the Existence-Knowledge-Bliss absolute, be propitious on me.

Prindajapra vararoodhaa chandakopastha kairyutha

Prasadam thanuthe mahyum Chandraghantethi vishrutha

May that Durga Devi, who rides on Garuda, the king of the birds, who is endowed with intense anger and violence and is renowned by the name of Chandaghanta, bestow her grace on me.

Suraa sampoorna kalasham rudhiraplu thwamevacha

Dadhanaa hasthapadmabhyam Kushmanda shubhadaasthu may

May Kushmanda Durga who holds two pitchers full of blood in her lotus hands and the universe is created, sustained and drawn within herself in a wink be propitious for me.

Simhasanagatha nityam padmashritha kara dwayaa

Shubhadaasthu sadaa devi Skandamaata yashaswini

May the renowned Durga Devi Skandamata who is eternally seated on a throne and whose hands are adorned with lotuses, be ever propitious to me.

Chandrahaasojhwala karaa Shardhula varavaahana

Katyayani shubham dadyath devi danava ghathinee

May the ever watchful Durga Devi Katyayani, who holds shining Chandrahasa (Sword) in her hand and rides a magnificent lion and destroys the demons, bestow welfare on me.

Karala roopaa kaalabjaa samanakruthi vigraha

Kalaratri shubha dadhath devi chandatta hasini

May she Bhayankari Durga who is naked with long lips, riding an ass, shining in various hues looks formidable because of the halo of her lustre and is adorned with multi coloured ornaments remove my darkness of ignorance.

Shwethe vrusha samaarudha shwetambara dharaa shuchih

Mahagauri shubham Dadyaan mahadeva pramodadaa

May the Mahagauri Durga who rides a white rishabha bull and who wears spotless white clothes and remains ever pure and also provides ever lasting bliss to Mahadeva Shiva bestow all auspiciousness.

Siddha gandharva yakshadhyie asuraira marairapi

Sevya maanaa sadaa bhooyaath siddhidaa Siddhidaayini

May the ever victorious Siddhidayini Durga, who is always worshipped by the hordes of siddha, gandharva, yaksha, asura, and deva, bestow success at my every venture.

Although we tend to shoot down certain ideas as plain mythology of the gone ages and that they have no meaning to this day, let us also realise that the principles that each of the stories that we term so naively as childish fiction are actually all the more relevant today.
Great Thought evolves in trying to search for the Creator - be it in the search of Truth on the Chariot at Kurukshetra or in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.
Great Art evolves in trying to reach for this Creator - be it in the Classical danceforms or in the strumming of an electric guitar.
Let us celebrate in our own way, the victory of good over evil this Dasara and make these golden ideas a part of our life.

Meetings along the Edge

2009-09-20T17:25:00.007+05:30

Leaving the world behind,
Rediscovering the self,
Attempting to make complete sense out of something at the least,
Justifying held ideals and discovering new ones,
Remaking the boundary between triviality and profundity....

Our recent trip to Gokarna was an unintended quest for some form of clarity.

Four hours along the Konkan rail,
Rickety ride to Kudle,
Delightfully secluded and truly multinational shack,
an all the more satisfying sizzler,
Warm soft sands, the cool and clear sea, the blazing hot sun and the chilling drizzle - and that delectable interplay among them all.
Eeriness of dead fish at the sea,
Raw force of the almost divine waves,
Little trek up a hillock,
One of nature's endlessly beautiful endless panoramas,
Adverted to the insignificance of all that was important,
Frantic descent in the fast-receding twilight,
Silent tea by the shack,
Well deserved Russian Salad,
The bizarre "Gokarna Lights",
Deep slumber as crashing waves lullaby,
Pancakes as in Pancakes for breakfast,
Effortless trek to ॐ,
Sober introspection by the rocks, amidst incessantly crashing waves,
The King - both the fish and the fisher,
Rickety jesht-adjesht on rick to station,
Four hours down the Konkan,
and.... we're back!

Everything's so quiet and peaceful and as I hurriedly write this memoir, I anticipate this high I ride to recede soon and things to get more obscure and muddled as days go by.
Here's hoping it doesn't or at least not before the Cow's Ear is revisited.

PS - "Meetings along the Edge" is a brilliant instrumental by Pandit Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass.

Whatever happened to Learning

2009-09-11T23:52:00.003+05:30

A post on similar lines was intended for quite some time, but I could never really get myself to putting it down.

Before entering NITK for a degree in Electrical Engineering, there was no clear idea as to what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. Like anyone else, most of the learning that happened involved gigantic tomes of pointless reactions and formulae. After all, it was sacrilege to not enrol yourself to a prestigious JEE coaching place. What was all the more disappointingly ironic was the fact that some of the finest ideas of science and mathematics were being introduced during this period, including calculus, linear algebra and quantum theory and the only thing that mattered was how an MCQ could be posed and what could be the best possible way to go about answering it.
The most prime of time was lost in such meaningless exercises.
So, for me the usual typical story followed - an almost worthless JEE rank and I had to 'compromise' with an EE seat at NITK Surathkal. Ah, well! I thought undergraduate studies at such a reputed institute would bring some welcome change with its approach to teaching and my approach to learning.The fact that this blog continues to rant, should tell you if that expectation was fulfilled.
The usual studying-for-marks concept continues, notwithstanding the 'continuous evaluation' adpoted here.The fact that we students, being more independent continue to choose another path,indicates that we are cuplable right from the start. The only incentive that stands out is a possible AA or a just managable DD or one of their ugly cousins.

And as I come to the last year of study (no points for guessing which of the ugly cousins favoured me), all hopes for learning for the joy of it is quashed under the oncoming fury of CAT,GRE,GMAT,GATE and what not.

Its perhaps in our own interests that we pursue something that is actually intellectually satisfying, independent of the system that we are in, because it is not going to change for a long time to come(I hope it does).

For too long, in the coming.

2009-08-29T19:13:00.002+05:30

*Reserved for lame excuses for not having blogged for like 8 ass-butt months.*

Yes, with that out of the way, I should mention that an aimless Saturday evening,a day before the TOEFL can be encouraging to revive a long -dead and rotting blog.

I have been occupied with 3 rather interesting books for the past couple of days. Actually one of them has tried to keep me occupied for over a month now. Needless to say, it hasn't done a very good job of it. I borrowed 'The Constants of Nature' by John.D.Barrow from a friend(link serves as cheap thrill to a blogging noobie as well as publicity to namma Gullu's blog) of mine. The author - a research professor in applied mathematics with an obvious passion for astronomy tries to figure out the deeper meaning of the constants that arise in nature, if they ever exist. The book makes for some real heavy reading and this has been the major reason why I haven't come around to finishing it.

Anyway, the other two that have occupied most of yesterday and today are 'Glimpses of World History' by Jawaharlal Nehru and 'Gödel, Escher,Bach - an Eternal Golden Braid' by Douglas R Hofstadter. The former, as most would know is a compilation of a series of letters that the Pandit wrote to his daughter, Indira Gandhi over 30 months from jail. Nehru does full justice to his title, displaying a stunning grasp of the past and present affairs of the world, with minimal references while in immurement. The other book is what I want to write about in this blog.

Yes, it might be premature to write about a book (especially this huge one) only after reading it only for 2 days. But that only strengthens the case for it. In just a couple of days, the book has had a really strong hold over me. In the words of the publisher , the book is "A Metaphorical Fugue on Minds and Machines in the spirit of Lewis Carroll". The book actually in a some way till now has tried to address what the author calls 'Strange Loops' that he thinks occurs everyday. Basically, he is trying to address the reason why a set of apparently meaningless symbols can combine together to form meaning, just like how ultimately lifeless particles can come together to form life. He attributes this to a strange kind of loopiness whereby the particles become aware of themselves. (At least that is just one of the many things I am guessing the author is getting at).

The book begins with a descriptions of people in the title :
Gödel was a famous logician in the beginning of the twentieth century, Escher a famous Dutch graphic artist and Bach - the immensely famous German composer in the early to mid 18th century. Each of these people in some form, displayed through their works - in mathematics, art and music respectively how this enigmatic idea of "Strange Loops" can come about.

Although the material can get tiring and formidable at times, the satisfaction of having understood, at least in part what such an impressive author says , is great.
Do read the book or at least what is purports to explain. I am sure it is in someway related to your boring Sunday musing, "What is life? What is consciousness"........

Born In Time

2008-12-24T17:58:00.001+05:30

In the lonely night in the blinking stardust of a pale blue light
You're coming through to me in black and white when we were made of dreams
You're blowin' down a shaky street you're hearing my heart beat
In the record breaking heat where we were born in time.

Not one more night not one more kiss
Not this time babe no more of this
Takes too much skill takes too much of will
It's too revealing.

You came you saw just like the law
You married young just like you ma
You tried and tried you made me slide
You left me reeling with this feeling

On the rising curve where the ways of nature will test every nerve
You don't get anything you don't deserve where we were born in time.

You pressed me once you pressed me twice
You hung the blade you'll pay the price
Oh babe that fire is still smoking.

You were snow you were rain
You were striped you were plain
Oh babe truer words have not been spoken
Or broken.

If there's a mystery in the foggy world of destiny
You can have what's left of me where we were born in time.

*OK What in God's name does this awesome sounding track mean?!!*

Blowin' In The Wind

2008-06-22T14:45:00.000+05:30

Yes, This is to be sung in the same sing-song tune as the Bob Dylan Classic :

How many loos must I inspect and check
Before my ass threatens to rive?!
How many times must I keep jerking off
Before I hope to go 'live'?!
How many times must I interview
before I join a stupid club hive?!
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How much hair must I keep picking out
before I have 'nice' mess meal?
How many days should I go without a bath?
Before the dirt starts to peel!
How many kills should one player have
before he is accused of a kill-steal?!
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must I slog my ass off
before I inevitably get a DD?
How many Sports-complex dances will it take
before he roams the 'romantic' streets of GB?
How many kills should EnViCi execute
Before he's no longer considered a noobie?!
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Nano,Petro,Traffic... You get the idea?

2008-06-19T15:20:00.000+05:30

Yes one preach-max post.But seriously guys read it and consider it.
Hoping comments follow.

The recent hike in petrol prices would have come as a big blow for most people.It sure will leave a huge hole in every pocket. I dont follow the oil economy or the inflation-fighting steps taken by the government but what I do realize is one thing.There sure is an upside to this.Ok before you jump and try reading the last para to see the tone and proceed to comment, let me assure you .I would be as happy as anybody else if prices of so many things fell.What I want you to do is understand a little observation I made.

Usually, when I have some place to go in namma Bengalooru,there would be ideally 2 choices - the bus or my own transport (ideally because the LL is still in the waiting :( . ).
I am quite sure this thought process goes on in most peoples minds.They would think about the availability of buses to that place and their regularity.They would then find out the distance they would be travelling and kinda guess the costs.Then taking into account all the opportunity costs and such,will choose the mode of transport.

And by just looking how horribly menacing the ooru's traffic is getting day-by-day,its not easy to guess which mode is winning!

Now, when prices rise, demand falls.One of the basic rules i am guessing.
Just think about how many people would reconsider getting their own mode of transport out and spending an extra 50 or so.And mind you we are talking about the middle-class here.The same middle-class which raised a hue and cry about the LPG prices having gone up by Rs. 50.
Yes, I agree that sometimes the public transport can get you tired and they are never to your convenience.
Carpooling is a great option. And its a good thing that some AC buses are coming in the city, targeting the upper strata. I hope to see that grow more in the city.
The Bangalore Metro, I hope brings in that dramatic change.
The main culprits of most jams in the city - The auto rickshaws will be given a run for their money.Or at least that's what I am hoping.

The coming of the Tata Nano, as much as I take pride in the ingenuity of an Indian company, will throw a spanner in the traffic-improvement works. The car being a symbol of status in our soceity ,I respectfully submit shouldn't be. We can pass the phase the Americans have passed,as noted writer Thomas Friedman says. In this new age especially in a metropoliton like Bangalore,Environment is a huge concern.Its time we 'frog-jumped' the Americans in a way.
Status of soceity can be a good computer or a mobile device connected to the superhighway called internet (no I dont think it is naive to think so).

After a lot of digressions ,what I am basically saying is peak oil or not , oil prices in the near future will only shoot upwards. Its high time we see the bright side of things and move on.
I have attempted to shed some light.
After all when demand falls,prices will fall or at least thats what I hope and we should all hope.

The Rupee.

2008-06-14T20:44:00.000+05:30

Its not just 1/42.875 of a Dollar.
Our Rupee coin is so much more than that.

1 Caramel Eclairs.
2 coffee bites.
4 Soft Spots (Whatever happened to them?!)
16 village peppermints!
60 seconds from the Yellow Box.
100 SMSes for some.
The topping to the 100,500 or 1000 in an envelope at a ceremony.
The savior from a ceremonial kick from the bus conductor.
An hour for the homeless.
A house for an Eritrean. :)
An ugly jingle to your stride.
An embarrassment to a '7-figurer'.
The trophy of a grocery store bargain.
Almost match-decider in a World Cup Final.
A Gem for a Romanian numismatist.
Horrible worthlessness at the Mall.
A well-deserved tip for The Cocky Waiter.
An extra Sweet Puri at the chaat place.
Oh Yes,have to put this in - A MASSIVE 2 more MB of web usage for BSNL :O

What else?!
Fill in more guys............

Kyunki...

2008-06-13T18:55:00.000+05:30

No matter how many times they have featured on 'Things I Hate The Most' on Slam-Books and personality questionnaires, I have always been awed by the rich variety of 'saas-bahu' teleserials aired during prime-time.
Why?

Here is ,in no way an exhaustive list of their achievements( Due to obvious reasons I consider all the saas-bahu dramas to be a single identity) :

The net worth of the jewellery in one scene overtakes the GDP of Eritrea.

The costumes worn by a single person on one show beats the lifetime wardrobe of an average, sane mortal.

The Bindis of a lucky select compete in size with Kosovo.

The only set-up , fiction,non-fiction or whatever, where an older person plays the daughter if not grand-daughter of the younger one.

The wiliness of the average bahu puts to shame even the most dangerous KGB spy.

The make-up used for one complete episode can 'decolorize' entire Africa.

The only family probably in the history of time to have 8 generations in one frame.

And oh Yes! Its not Edna Parker.It's our very own बा!

The only shows on planet that can make a 5 minute real-life scene go on for an hour.How?
Here are a few ways :

The camera zooms into and out of the bahu's face 5-6 times,accompanied by thunderous sounds,prefferably from different angles.
Then,the above repeats for the other 8-9 subjects in the scene.
This done,there are various combinations to capture reactions.
Then we bring in components just one color.
The list is so ingeniously long,hence I skip.

Those were but just a few.
And how did I become such an 'expert' at this,well , Mums the Word!!

The Story Of A DOTA Game.

2008-06-10T10:53:00.000+05:30

Hanni Host!
IP problem da.
Ok wait.
GUYS JOIN SERVER!!
Where are the others?
Adi is messaging,he'll come wait.
Vicky is on the phone,he'll take another 2 hours.Ditch.
Anyone from the DASA wing?
No they are 'pardying'.
Poo's in the RR,he cant come.
BD n others?
BD is going to get stoned.
Ankit is stoned.
Theres Prat if you want :)
Hesh and Heda have some Comp Class.
Sharon in Mangalore.
Others No Idea.

*Datta u dark lord and other such standard 'racist'comments*

Wheres IT gang?
They just came wait.
Jethru and MV joined the game.
HellBoy joined the game.
Adi : Kick all naabs.
HellBoy has left the game.

*LOL ROFL and other such*

Who else coming da?
Neeraj wants to join.
Adi ,Hanni : NO
Datta : SURE!

EnViCi has joined the game.

*Due to presence of naabs by the scores and my weak memory as to who is pro, I cant publish further*.

Game starting in 5 seconds......
Game starting in 4 seconds......
Game starting in 3 seconds......
Game starting in 2 seconds......
Game starting in 1 seconds......

*AFTER THE INITIAL SWAPPING AND RANDING AND OTHER DOTA LINGO........ FEW SECONDS INTO THE GAME.................*

I Dont Message drew first blood!!
I Dont Message has pwned EnViCi for 400 Gold!

*Out of nowhere.... 'Waiting for players : EnViCi' *

EnViCi : Guys lag da i cant he...
EnViCi has left the game.

"
pp KING
PP
PP BASTARD
MOFO
KEWL CHOOTH
BASTARD
LOUDE KE BAAL
.
.
.
.
.
.
"

The cycle repeats but there is a good game coz 'Ql' doesnt join now.They allow Prat to!

PS - 'All characters are purely fiction..... et al'
Especially bout Ql ;)

Yesterday

2008-06-08T12:32:00.000+05:30

Kaalia the crow,Suppandi,Tantri The Mantri,Kapish and the other Tinkle characters.
Math 100 page homeworks.
Mom getting my shoes polished and ready.
Trying to be tall enough to unbolt the door.
Fist Blow exchanges with sis.
Mickey-Mouse tiffin boxes and Donald Duck water bottles.
Just 'half' a ticket for a bus ride.
Forming circles on the playground for lunch.
Bated breath to catch the 2 second 'car scene' involving Drew Barrimore in Charlie's Angels.
Little Classroom Crushes.
Horrendous Hindi Dohas.
Enid-Blyton Adventures.
'Just Mohabbat' on Sony.
Frantic 'chalkifying' the white canvas shoes.
Rubberbands to hold socks up during inspections.
'Kings' with napkin-ball after lunch.
4-in-1 family rides on our very own 'Allwyn Pushpak'.
Geography Map completions.
Tazos and Trump Cards and tattoos and what not!
Badge Fight with classmates.
'Son-Pari' on Star Plus.
The cursive-Handwriting improvement nightmare.
Pad-Cricket after Examinations.
A beautiful traffic-free Bangalore.
The eagernessto ride an escalator.

And a billion other memories................

Thats what Yesterday is.
A montage of memories - good or bad.

The Monster

2008-06-08T07:16:00.000+05:30

People by the scores awaited the arrival.
Most half dead, with their previous exploits.
They said the monster shall arrive.
They say you have to slay it right.
They say only then will it take you where your mind desires.
So they wait and I wait.
Warriors across the battlefield attack and attempt to slay their respective nemesis.
Not us.
Our monster is assigned a zone in time and space.
So we wait more.
And then it happens.
The growl of the monster is heard distinctly from somewhere far off.
The crowd gets restless.
I take guard.
People look in the direction expected.
And there it was!!
The monster so ugly yet what a relief to see it!
It could be identified only by inscriptions on it.
The inscriptions could be deciphered by a select 'local' set.
The monster identified,
Storming happens.
Warriors throw pieces of their armour to gain respectful positions.
The females attack the front.
The males and the rest from the back.
I rushed and fought like a true soldier.
I had gained it!!
I truely had.....

Gained a seat in the monster named '290D bus from Majestic To Nagavara'!

'ಕೆಂ ಗೌ ನಿಲ್ಧಾನ 290D ನಾಗವಾರ '

PS - This was not meant to be a poem :)

Also, somewhat inspired by Panda's 'Pass my Sambar' article!