More Frust & Sunken

Before you proceed, please follow the following instructions.....

1) Read my earlier post Frust & Sunken

2) If you are planning to disobey, I request you not to. So please, read Frust & Sunken

3) For God's sake just read Frust & Sunken, will ya!

Ok... It goes like this. I finish loading Frust & Sunken on the blog and settle down for a cup of tea at the dhaba (roadside eatery) outside the main gate of the college, while Chinki settled for a smoke of Kings. By now I had come to realize that there was no use of being frustrated. Hence I was barely bothered now. I mean, come to think of it, why was I getting frustrated? Did I badly need the job? Well... Er... I didn't know. The ppt was cool and so was the profile of the company. But was I prepared to get the job? A BIG NO in capitals. Neither was I prepared for a written test nor dressed right to look presentable, if not decent. Barring the grey John Miller shirt, the black Allen Solly trousers and a black glossy tie, I was the exact antonym of civilized. I've seen my buddies coat their faces with the rich lather of Gillette and use Gillette Mach3 on their facial epidermal layers to remove the growth of dead keratin, in other words, they never compromised on shaving before they sat for the company. If they needed shaving, I needed sheering, thanks to the latest fascination for a beard that I had developed recently, a la Bin Laden style. So was I going to do something about it? HELL NO! I'm not going to budge to such superficial temptations. If they throw me out on the pretext of having a beard, then to hell with them, I thought.

Just then, Shanky gives me a call. "Hey Alfi! Rush to DOMS! You've been selected for the GD. All the best man! You can do it!"

"Hey! How many short listed? And how many PGs and UGs?" "11. 4 UGs and 7 PGs. But don't worry! You are a league apart!"

WHAT?? 4 UGs ONLY? Man! I was going to the dumps. First of all, of the 53 who sat, only 11 short listed. Which itself was so depressing. And of that, there are 7 PGs and I could swear on my dead body that they would be MBAs. And the company I'm sitting for? A Growth Partnership consultancy firm. I knew I had no chance at all. Then why this toiling ordeal of a GD and that too, with the MBA honchos? Certainly, the cosmos was not in my favor at all.

The groups were divided. I was put in a group with 2 more UGs, but 3 other MBAs. I was in jitters. But certainly I was too fortunate compared to that poor soul in the other batch who was beaten black blue (metaphorically though) by his post graduate colleagues. I certainly had something to be consoled about.

GDs are nothing short of a fish market. It’s noisy, dirty and certainly stinky. People simply pounce on each other, cutting one another in arguments and trying vehemently to dominate. There are two kinds of people in a GD, one who spends his or her time blabbering away to glory, without giving anyone a chance, even if they have no idea about the topic. The other, the more harmless of the lot, simply has no choice but sit there, hoping to raise some voice to be heard. To which group did I belong? I didn't know myself.

The war began inside the air conditioned room, where the valiant knights and one she-knight sat around a rectangular table, with the HR Manager from the company sitting at the head. The topic- "Success Is All About Human Relations". I could see the gleam in the eyes of the MBA guys. They were the happiest lot. And here I was, the wannabe techy sitting in a room with management written all over, and 3 men waiting for the green signal.

From the word GO, the MBAs pounced and were battling with each other. They were speaking at around 200 words per 10 seconds and churning out management terms and statistics. I chipped in a few points about Personnel Management and the likes. I really had no idea what I was going on blabbering. All I knew was that my tongue was wagging and the MBAs were looking at me in approval while the UGs were looking pitiable. I was feeling pitiable too since I felt things slipping away from my hand. In the end they asked me to summarize. That was the last thing I wanted to do. As it is I felt a dire need of words when I spoke and all the while my mouth went dry and my feet trembled. I was in amazing heights of self confidence, the difference being, the Mariana Trench being the reference level. And they ask me to summarize. So I began... Blah blah blah...

"And to conclude, may I quote Mario Puzo from his bestseller, The Godfather. A successful man keeps his friends close, but his enemies closer."

I had no idea whether that was relevant to the situation or not. It just came to my mind in an instant and I before I knew, I had blurted it out. I stopped for an instant and looked around for a second, only to find all the candidates looking at me with their mouths open and the company fellows staring at me. Now I did not know what those looks meant, for my second language in school was Hindi till my 8th and French from 8th to 10th. It was pin drop silence and in these situations, a serene atmosphere was the most hated thing for me. I had to break this deafening silence so I mustered courage to say, "That’s all. Thank you."

Once we were out of the hall, the dudes and the gal came thronged around me pouring condescending remarks. I for sure was certain that they were referring to some other guy. But strangely and painfully, the other guy happened to be, yours truly. This activity was interrupted by the announcement of the short listed candidates. The moment the company guy X came out to announce, I picked up my folder and started walking towards the stairs to go down and hence out of DOMS. He announced,” A, B and Alfi! Please stay back and the rest can go." ALFI?? Very familiar name. Sounded like me. Had to be me. I asked the rep in charge, "Did he call out my name?" "Yes you dodo!"

Well, I was game now. This meant a round of interview. 5 candidates were short listed now for this round. It was a strange math for me. From 53 to 11 to 5. However, all I knew was that I was the third one to get butchered by questions. And from the looks of A who came out of the interview room, I was sure that I was going to be dead. I eavesdropped on him when he was explaining what happened inside the hall to his buddies.

"Man! The guy was asking about market forces and drivers and forecasters and shit! I'm screwed dude! I've been f***ed inside out!"

"So whaddya think? In or Out?"

"I've got no idea!"

I was a damned soul. I knew I was not going to get this but still I was going to go through all the drama. One of those instances in life when you see fire in front of you and an avalanche behind you. You want to run, but you simply have no idea where to or how to. Fire is too hot and the avalanche too dangerous. Though, it’s difficult to say, what exactly was the fire and the avalanche in the present situation that we are seeing right now.

"Alfi! Alfi Ashraf! Please come in"

And I entered the hall... Uncertain, unwilling, frustrated, afraid, excited and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Handshakes were exchanged. I took extra efforts to maintain eye contact and talk with an air of confidence. Started with my interests and hobbies, to why I was interested in this profile after coming from a technical background. And lots and lots of questions. I answered most, or let us say I blabbered. For each question, my mind was trying to search for the right answer but my tongue was wagging away to glory. I, for a moment thought I was stuck in the interface of transition with my alter ego. I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that they were asking questions and I was answering them, or trying to.

At the end of the ordeal they X and Y look tell me this, "We are happy with you. But you talk too much technical (eh? My profs!! Are you reading this?). You will be put to a telephonic interview with our operations director who is on a tour write now. Please be more focused while talking to him."

Ok. Now that was a lot of advice. "Do you have any questions Alfi?" Y asked me. "Yes sir, I do" I said instantly. And then my mind goes blank. I was trying to think what question I should ask. They looked at me with surprise. And I was still groping for, for a change, questions.

"You are an interesting man. People have troubles thinking for answers. You have troubles in thinking for questions," said X with an undoubted tone of sarcasm. He was very very right. I've been talking non stop for quite sometime without thinking twice for the answers. But now when I get a chance, rather when I demanded a chance to question, I make a fool of myself by thinking of questions. I was, truly, an interesting man.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything to ask, sir." I realized that that was the first time that I addressed them as "Sir". Interesting. I was on a roll.

I was outside and talking to Vinod, who had come to give me moral support, unfortunately, he was a little late. I had been already drained of morals after a half an 40 minutes of interview. However, that didn't deter me from sucking more mental peace from me when X and Y came out of the hall to announce 3 names. "P, R and Alfi have been selected from the interviews! But they have to attend a telephony interview tomorrow."

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. To attend yet another round of jugalbandi was not my piece of cake. And right now the statistics looked like this, 53 to 11 to 5 to 3. And of the 3, apart from me, there were two MBAs. But given a choice of fire and avalanche, do I have a choice?

Got back to room. Answered a million calls asking about what happened. I cursed those who spread the word. I hate being like an audio cassette, playing the same thing again and again to people. At the end of the day, I was simply, More Frust & Sunken.

The interview over the phone finally happened the next day and after 40 minutes of the interview, they announced, yet again, finally, the final list of people who got placed, i.e., people who finally have been selected to join the company.

I wasn't really affected by the announcement. I mean, I really didn't feel anything. I was neither sad before sitting for the company, nor very different after the result. It was just the entire process that was taxing. And finally, when you know that everything was over, you feel peaceful. No more taxing stretches of mental stress. Different matter whether you got the job or not.

I'm just back from a trip to Pondicherry. I knew I wanted a break from all this. I wanted to chill out, experience some sand and salty water. I was thoroughly drained after a day and half’s adventure; the outcome did not affect what toll it took from me. I needed this. And trust me Pondicherry was beautiful.

And now I'm happy to be myself again. Not some disguised figure in front of a panel of people, trying to impress them.

PS: Before I forget, of the two who got the job, one was P, an MBA and the other, well, Alfi Ashraf, UG final year Instrumentation And Control Engineering, who happens to be, yours truly. And by the way, I had the shabby beard throughout the interview. Got it modified to a frenchie after they announced the result. Left for Pondicherry straight from the saloon.

PS: I forgot again. And the company? Frost & Sullivan

Frust & Sunken

The mobile cried out loud at 6:30 am, breaking my sojourn in the dreamland, thanks to snoozing at 4:30am after finishing The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes. All credit goes to my campus placement representative, who like every other placement rep, has only one motto- get all his batchmates placed as soon as possible and hit the 100% mark.

I don't find anything wrong with his aspirations, as long as he doesn't bother me with them. True, I am a thorn in the way since I was the only registered candidate in my department who took a bare minimum interest in getting placed with an MNC, Indian or alien, country of domicile no bar. That was evident in my track record; sat for just one company for which I was scantily prepared, when my peers have slogged for every company that steps into the campus. And let me tell you, we have every other day companies coming to recruit the young wannabe techies who hold the future of India; not to mention, that includes me too.

"Alfi! So you are sitting right? The ppt (read as pre placement talk) is at 8:30 in the Octagon conference hall! Is your folder ready? Your CV, project report, training certificate, et al?" the eager Shanky enquired.

"Er... Shanky, are you sure I should sit? I mean, I'm not really prepared. Actually, I have a problem. My fault only. If I can fix it in time, then I'll sit." I assured him. Well, I did genuinely have a problem. All those prerequisites which he had enumerated were not with me. Er.. to be more precise, I didn't have a copy of any of these, the most crucial being the CV. And it was my own fault. Kudos to my lethargy. Well, actually, I'm a strict follower of the Just In Time algorithm, according to which, getting ready with your job before hand is a waste of leisure time. Take this case for example. Why should I walk all the way upto the Octagon, give the damned thing for print out and wait for it in the queue outside the printer room and get it? A certainly better option would be give it for printing and collect it when I come for the ppt. And here is the calculation- if the ppt starts at 8:30am, which is bound to get delayed since we follow the IST which stands for Indian Stretchable Time, it will end by 9:30am, and the printer room opens at 9:00am. Hence it is better to pick it up after the ppt, in effect.

"what's the problem? Tell me man!! I'll help you. If its something as petite as printing a CV, then just don't worry, come to the TP (read as Training and Placement department), we'll print it here. But please Alfi, do not let it this opportunity go!" pleaded my man. I felt I had to be responsible at least for this man, who has been thanklessly toiling to ensure that his batchmates have an assured future.

And here I am, after appearing for the written test, which consisted of 30minutes of General Aptitude and Psychometric Tests, followed by 45 minutes of an Essay and a Case Study, waiting for the results. If the written is cleared, there is an eliminative round of GD (read as Group Discussion) followed by personal interviews.

And let me confess, this wait for the results is so frustrating... Man tell me whether I'm in or whether I'm out! I wanna go home!

After 6 Papers......

I'm going home!! Yes! After 6 lousy papers I'm going home for a well deserved break, although the reason for me deserving the break can still be questioned, but who really cares?

The frustrated engineering student in me is feeling free today. With that, he completes 7 semesters of a rigorous BTech degree.. With just a semester more to go before the ultimate freedom, here I am, looking forward to a good time in the countryside... Far away from the world of Sensors and Transducers, Electronics and Control Systems.. For I would be in my home, walking on my soil, breathing my air, drinking my water....

The thought of going home is always so very different. So different that its a step ahead of what we call inexplicable... For till the day you leave for your place, you would have assimilated what all you missed being at home and finally when that moment arrives when you pack your bags, say a big "BYE" to all your friends, and finally sit in the train, you realize, despite all that's not-good about home can be pardoned. The place where I'd be staying, my village, has no net cafes, no malls, fast food eateries or coffee bars. But there is a vast stretch of paddy field, which looks like a green carpet under the early morning sun, twinkling with dew on its blades. There are mango and jackfruit trees with swings of rope, where we played as kids (and we still do).

Ok ok!! Me not getting into the "My Village Greatest" tourism promotion scheme. I guess I better get going... Got a train to catch..

Bye for now.. Blogging is going to take a back seat for sometime now... Ciao!

Dream Tree

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. "Papa, when will you be back?" - his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. "Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata," his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni's little fingers parted from between his. "I need to go..", he thought, "I have to, at least for Munni's sake.."

The humid summer breeze and the rattling train coaxed him into an uncomfortable state of drowsy consciousness. He dreamt that Munni ran away, the closer he ran to her, the farther she was, like a mirage. He woke up with a start and squinted at his watch.

"What is the time please?"
A smallish woman, a meek voice as if she was scared that her existence would annoy someone. Her only noticeable feature was her rather large, expressive eyes.
"4.30"
Something made him look at the woman again. He had stopped noticing women long back. Ever since Meenakshi passed away...

Four long years. His daughter's birth. His wife's death. Joy and sorrow in an instant. A heady cocktail. He had hardly recovered from it. He barely had a chance to. You can't be a poor farmer in Andhra Pradesh and have time for emotional upheavals.

Life betrayed him once with the death of his wife. Life betrayed him again, three years in a row, with the failure of his crops. Every year, the debt increased and it felt like a noose tighten around him. Tightened till he could not breathe. He shivered with the memory of the night, where he took a bottle of poison in his hand ...

He threw the bottle away when he heard the small voice behind him, "Papa, what's beyond the big well? Sanju says that's where the world ends."

His then-preoccupied answer had satisfied Munni’s innocent curiosity, "No, beta…That's the railroad to the city…There's a lot of world beyond the big well."

He had repeated the answer to himself, "No, it's not the end of the world".

Maybe some of that same innocence in this woman's voice or eyes made him rephrase the answer to her question. "What is the time, please?"

In a crystal-clear flash of certainty he realized ...

"It was time."

It was time to put the scattered pieces of his life together. Just like the marbles he picked up as a boy. That he won and collected one by one from the ground, his pockets laden and bulging with his precious treasure. He had to play the game of life again. He looked at the large expressive kohl-rimmed eyes once more. Shy and downcast at times, hesitantly observant at others as she gazed out at the rushing landscape beyond the rusted iron rods of the second class carriage window. He suddenly heard himself asking, "Are you going to the city?"

She shook her head, and looked away, out of the window. She looked tense. Almost a little scared. Balbir wanted to ask "What's wrong", but hesitated. He'd been too friendly. He turned away and looked out of the window.

The train slowed. Radhapur Junction. Dusty. Near-empty. Interchangeable with so many rural stops. Just one man got on board. He wore the bright, colourful pagri of the region above his sunburned face. He had a happy face and no luggage. As he walked the corridor his eyes scanned the berths. He reached their compartment and stopped in front of the woman.

His eyes seem to darken for an instant. Or so Balbir thought. However, the woman was too engrossed in her thoughts to notice anything.

"Jamna?" the man called out softly.

The woman turned with a start. Fear was written all over her face. It looked like he was the last person she wanted to see. The man continued smiling.

"I know what you are thinking. I also know that you do not trust me. All I have to say is come home. No one will hurt you anymore."

Jamna did not utter a word. Nor did she move a muscle.

It was a trial of perseverance for Jamna who was accused of bringing down the curse of the ancestors on the house. She bore the symbol of sin her womb, they said. The day the news of Jamna being a mother was announced, nature’s fury was unleashed that left the fields devastated and the family homeless. “The sani must be destroyed!” they declared.

She saw her father but not her mother. Jamna never wanted to see her daughter murdered before her. She left her to her fate, never to return.

“Jamna! Say something.”

Awe struck and puzzled, she asked, “Jamna? I don’t understand.”

____________________________________________________

I voluntarily tagged from Hyde.... So whoever feels he or she can tag please join the game..

The rules of the game-

Everything above line drawn should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag. This is a story tree and is best nurtured as follows:

1. The blogger must add only 90-100 words (not more or less).
2. All previous snippets must be copied before a new snippet is appended.
3. Each snippet should be entirely linked (not just the first sentence or so) to its blogger.
4. Characters, scenes etc can be introduced by the blogger.
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within seven days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending, the story tree can be passed on to at most three bloggers.
8. If more than one branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The story tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used).

Update: Tag taken up by Diabolical Angel!

"Do I have a Choice??": The Dreaming Insomniac Part III

Preparing a seminar which should take a minimum of 30 minutes was certainly not an amazing thing to do. 30 minutes called for a minimum of 35 slides. Above all that, the most important element, without which the speaker would be prepared to speak hardly anything on the subject at hand- the source. The most severe of pains was getting the information; some articles, some diagrams, something... Without these, it would be close to impossible to blah blah. Of course, it must be kept in mind that to achieve success and acclaim for hi/her presentation, it is absolutely essential that he/she takes enough time to study the resources patiently with interest, dedication and most importantly, in a good frame of mind. And here I am! Impatient, flustered, disinterested, utterly frustrated and to top it all, very very sleepy. Thanks to the 5 hours of snooze I’ve had in the last six days, of course, put together.

Life in the temple of education has taught me, like every other wannabe techy, that crying over the milk that is anyway going to spill is simply a waste of time and above all, waste of tears. Hence the moral of the story is, acceptance is a virtue. Acceptance is the order of the day for mortals like me, who have only one choice, which sorrowfully, happens to be, no other choice. Again as Morpheus in The Matrix: Reloaded put it, “Choice is an illusion created by those in power for those without it.” Now that I’ve realized the essence of the road-to-engineering-degree life, it was time I pondered of what, how and from where to get my work done. To answer the first question- what? Well, all I knew about this one was that I was to speak on “Basics of LASER” and nothing more than that. It struck me then, amidst my strains to think of a possible way out of the enigma that I found myself in, that a complete and comprehensive solution to the question must lie in the answer to the next question- how? But strange enough, I saw myself facing the same dilemma as I was in before. Without breaking my head, I skipped to the next question, which turned out to be the best decision I had taken in the day. The answer to from where lay in the lifeline of the campus, the Octagon, the computer centre. But again, as always, we had a new problem posing before us. We have the Octagon to ourselves alright, and its open 24/7, however, getting a free terminal was something that even Mr. Hercules might find way too challenging. Sadly though, owing to the expansion policy of the college, an increased intake of students without expanding infrastructure of the college had created mayhem at all levels and Octagon was not spared either. Come to think of it, it is an amazing proportion, isn’t it, 40 computers in the internet lab for approximately a thousand students? Thanks to all these, the lab had become an arena where there would be an angry junta waiting for free terminals when all those people sitting on the computer, hooked onto some online dating sites with chat windows open and coochy-cooing some Rita, Mita, Tina, Lolita, Sasha, Laura, etc, etc. As and when someone logs off, all those who were waiting pounce on the system and a war of possession commences. I was in no mood for such gimmicks. Hence the most opportune moment had to be midnight, which in other words meant, seventh night of sleeplessness. Again, do I have an alternative?

Amidst all this planning, I meet Anil on my way from the canteen to hostel. “So what’s the plan? Taking the seminar?” he asks mockingly. “Do I have a choice? Darling, I want to stay alive!” was my reply. And the sadist remarks in a dramatic manner, a la Matrix, “It is not the choice, but why you made the choice that’s important.” Encouraging this conversation was not in my best interest; hence I put an abrupt full stop to it and set for my chores.

The day’s itinerary was not very different from the rest of them. After class there was practice till 10 in the night for my next play, Barefoot In The Park. After that an elaborate dinner of 3 Mountain Dews™ and a bread omelet at the night canteen followed by a nice a session of revising the play’s progress and planning for the next day’s action. All this went up till midnight. In short, I didn’t have to literally wait for the moment, it just came. After dumping my bag and notes in my room, I set out for the Octagon. As expected, the internet lab was relatively less populated. Of course, the slice of junta here was engaged in some sort of leisure that gave them immense pleasure and created a world of fantasy for them and their dreams. Can’t blame them, can I? After a certain level of frustration, man can’t hold it longer. They have to get engaged somehow. Hence, the visual medium was the most easily accessible. Call it misuse of technology, for all you care. I could not help letting out a chuckle, looking at these innocent yet immensely corrupted fellows glued to their screens. I wished I could just observe them longer and write something about them. Alas! That wasn’t my job. Besides, do I have a choice?

Alright! So this was the plan. I’ll browse How Stuff Works website as well as Wikipedia and try getting some stuff downloaded transfer to the intranet using my flash drive. Sounds simple enough, I thought. Well, to my amazement, it was damn simple alright. I was elated. Took just an hour to acquire the required pieces of info and voila! Here I have my resources. A look at my watch said 1:25am. That was very encouraging. As per the POA, I dumped the stuff from the net lab to the user lab where we access the intranet. Now that acquisition was over, it was time for assimilation. In other words, the material has to be properly organized, put into slides, order them according to the sequence of presentation and then do the final touches such as inserting the pictures and the reference links. This was the tedious part of the job. Because before I do all these, had to study the material and make myself well aware of what I was supposed to speak and what should be kept as back up to answer questions raised by my “cooperating” classmates and perhaps, even by the lecturer herself. Without wasting time, I got myself going through all the pages I had just downloaded and studying the graphs carefully with the closest detail. Thanks to some basic fundamentals that I was acquainted with, getting the concepts into my gray matter didn’t seem all that taxing. Thanks to the amazing illustrations, the principles were there on my screen and required minimum strain for comprehension. The entire process was time consuming. But that was pardonable since I didn’t feel the pressure at all, for I was all to myself in an empty user lab at 4:50am. I was free to let out grunts and yawn noisily. I even sang at moments of joy and clapped in frenzy when something I did worked out! Thanks to a very understanding guard sitting at the entrance of the Octagon, who was fast asleep and snoring away to glory. Now that’s what I call a “sound sleep”.

For a change, I was beginning to feel that the cosmos is indeed smiling at me in this early hour of the morning. I mean, come to think of it, everything I had planned on doing was simply just happening in front of me and guess what? I have had to put minimum effort. Well, I realized that optimism was not rally alien to me. It’s just that, things don’t work out the way it should at times and we tend to keep reminding ourselves of only those instances every time. And the result? We grow to think that nothing good can ever happen to us. Even if they really happen, that’s just a bonus. Not anymore for me. We have to be optimistic about our stuff. All we need is a little bit of planning and most importantly, sticking to the plan. If we do that, then there is nothing that could go wrong. Absolutely nothing.

The watch said 6:05 when I heard the birds chirping and crying to welcome the first rays of the sun. A look outside the window and I saw the night sky is slowly turning blue with streaks of dark pink and purple. That’s what made me look into my watch. I had every reason to smile, for here I was, with 38 slides in my presentation which included 4 graphs, 6 pictures of LASER equipment and 10 detailed step by step illustrations of the actual process of LASER generation. The sense of triumph was such that I didn’t feel tired anymore. A bit fine tuning was all that was left, i.e. giving the animations and things like that. It was 6:10 now and people had started coming into the lab slowly and taking their seats. One of them looked at me with sympathy, thanks to my sunken eyes and dark circles. But I wasn’t bothered.

For the final revision, I put the presentation on slide show. One by one, the slides came and left at the click of the mouse. Important points faded in and expanded. The illustrations swiveled and expanded. The layout was strictly professional and the colour scheme was in conformity with the whole mood of the presentation. At the end I wanted to save “the thing” and transfer it to my flash drive. And then it happened amidst the slide show. The screen went blank. I waited as though the system had slowed down. But no! The screen would simply not come. I pressed every button possible! Alt-Ctrl-Del, Esc, Alt-Tab, everything, but the screen simply refused to come alive!

“I’m really sorry! It was a mistake! I kicked it by mistake” said someone. I turned in the direction of the voice. And there was this guy with a pleading look, sitting at the last system that was close to the switchboard. “Beep!” said my computer and then the Windows Xp™ Loading screen came alive.

And so did the reason for this post.

PS: This post was made on the 28th of September, but due to technical reasons, uploading it was not possible on time. The delay is regretted.

"Why on Earth Me": The Dreaming Insomniac Part II

After a pathetic breakfast of aloo bonda or deep fried potato balls, which feels like heavy lead in your stomach, Vinod and I parted ways to our classes. Not particularly interested in attending them though. If it hadn't been for the attendance requirement per semester, I would've spent my time in more productive and fruitful ventures. I believe I'm not the only one who believes so...

It simply beats my wildest imaginations and the entire lot of reasoning faculties that I possess, how is it possible, of all the things in this universe, to sit through fifty minutes of technical discourses, which is filled with grammatical errata and wrong usage of the English language, than anything that is remotely technical. Oh! Did I forget to say that the medium of instruction is English, which of course is often interspersed with the popular idiomatic expressions , sighs and emotional calls in the local vernacular language. Indifference to this environment might lead you to be caught in situations resulting consequences described in my earlier post What is Froth flotation? Now doesn't all this make a congenial and healthy environment for supreme technical education?

Weary Eyed and tired, here I was, in this ventilated chamber with the other wannabe tech numskulls; a good section of whom were interested in only getting into the good books of these pseudo gurus. I guess that's what they all do anywhere and everywhere. That wasn't my concern anymore, thanks to the last three years of indifference; I am neither in any mood nor in a position to change. All I knew at the moment was that I had three sets of forty minute sermons to bear, of which two were by the same person. This particular character was known for her passion for anything supersized, including herself. She craved for breathing spaces, which were, by and large hogging spaces. Every small time interval she could find for herself, she would perform the Houdini. The next instant she could be spotted in the canteen. Back to the class, our lady comes up with some of the most innovative ideas to explain certain concepts; different matter that she fails miserably. She is an expert in the English language. One could have said that she speaks the Queen's English, the catch being, had she been the queen.

Amidst her rendition, I noted down some of her pearls of wisdom...

"I have a 20ampere current in my hand (yeah rite! If it were true, you'd have a charred hand!! ) and a 30Volt voltage...."

"No photodiode will not conduct.."

Some amazing new concepts too..

"Output/Input = Loss"

She also has this commendable habit of substituting the unknown with "the thing". And since her knowledge of the subject is far and wide, her sentences are filled with "the things". Towards the end of her two straight stretches of rendition, she proposes that the last unit of the syllabus be seminar series, which of course, means that the unit would be divided into topics with a chosen few of students taking a topic each for at least half an hour.

The moment she announce the good news, the junta went into a state of frenzy. Confusion filled the room. Chaos as though an elephant had run amok. There was panic in the air. The fear of genocide was making the rounds, for deterrence and defiance meant treason, which was a cardinal sin and meant facing extermination. The mystery continued, who is it going to be? Chinki? Shagan? Veeru? Shanky? Tarun? Ram? Chatley? Who is it going to gong to be? Amidst all this, the elephant lifted its trunk and in a loud trumpet rattled the classroom, putting an end to the suspense. The loud thud that I received woke me up from my classroom slumber!

"You! Allfi (that's how she calls me)!! You will take the first seminar. Basics of Lasers!" ME?? What? Are you sure? Me? Why on earth me? Didn't you find anyone else? I mean, I didn't even disturb your class! I didn't laugh at your stupid comments and pathetic language! What on earth have I done?

"Tomorrow 1:30 you have to gave the thing and if you wanted the LCD thing get the consensus from Sampath." A Jew could never speak against the Fuhrer, could he?

The Dreaming Insomniac

Definitely not my kind of a night. I mean, think about it, after a tiring day of hectic business, you come back to your dwelling with the hope of a nice and sound sleep; however, the wretched night has something else in store for you. The heavenly boon of slumber was simply being denied to the mortal who craved and pleaded for nothing but just eight hours of sleep. Alas! There was none to hear the woes of this hapless soul.

The day was jam packed with work. Attending two exhausting lectures on Biomedical Instrumentation had induced enough sleep in me that I dreaded even looking at anything that was horizontal, flat and measuring six feet in length. Besides, I was tired of yawning and yearned for the freedom. The man did leave us after watching heads fall down, one by one, while he went on rendering his soapbox oration on the intricate details of a CT Scan and MRI scanning machines. I surmise that even he was bored with this portion of the syllabus. However, the bottomline is that he did leave us after two hours of his boring rendition. Just when the fruits of freedom were to be realized, Vinod calls me up to accompany him to a nearby mess house in order to order food for the Mallu junta of the college, which planned to get together on the coming Tuesday to celebrate the harvest festival of Onam. Being a good Samaritan and a responsible Mallu myself, the Mallu in me refused to refuse Vinod's request. Hence complied and walked to this nearby place. The walk wasn't very interesting. Thanks to the scorching heat of the sun coupled with the high humidity, we were boiling on earth, like tomatoes in microwave oven.

Negotiations regarding the rates were followed by a short lunch at the mess house, which Vinod had elaborately while I stuck to the basics of steamed rice and the South Indian lentil dip (read as Sambar), thanks to a tummy that was stubborn on going for a hunger strike. On our way back, I gave everything what I ingested back to Mother Nature. It was, undoubtedly and very much terribly, embarrassing when you are throwing up on the roadside and the entire monde is staring at you. At the end of the ordeal, I finally staggered to my room, gulped down the one litre bottle of water at one go and sat on my bed with hopes of taking a short nap before proceeding with rest of the day's itinerary. Not five minutes passed when my mobile started crying out that it was time to go for practice. A helpless and hapless me, victimized by time, punished for reasons that were known to none, lifted myself up and proceeded to practice for Neil Simon's Barefoot In The Park, which is to be staged on Friday, 23rd September, 2005, in the EEE Auditorium of NIT Trichy at 5:30pm. After the practice session, I accompanied the team going from hostel to hostel canvassing for the same and putting up posters at strategic locations of the campus to attract junta. It must be understood that this group activity is no shorter than a cross country race. Running across 20 acres of the lithospheric portion was no joke. But there was some fun in this obstacle race and the very thought of crashing into the bed for a sound sleep kept me going.

After completing the job at hand, and of course, celebrating the placement of Darshak Parmar and Salem Amrutesh in Sasken Communication Technologies Limited with bumps and a small treat, I finally made it to my room. Without switching on the lights, to ward off some flying pests which were waiting to receive enlightenment to attack my room, I grabbed my lungi (Trivia: The lungi is a garment worn around the waist in India, Bangladesh and Myanmar) and quickly changed. The next instant of time I was lying on my bed and sent a 'goodnight' to Feba, who had been messaging me from Banglore. I closed my eyes with the excitement and passion for that leisure of slumber. All I could think of was going into hibernation for the next eight hours, suspending my animation, being dormant all the while. There was this cool breeze that blew into my room which was being effectively circulated by my most valuable possession, my Hitachi Table Fan. Thanks to Physics and convection, the setting of the room was simply apt for the perfect siesta. And slowly.... very slowly.... very very slowly, I could feel I was floating, flying high, soaring higher, traversing the skies to the land of fantasies and dreams, when suddenly that happened. My worst fears had become a reality. What I have been writing off as a minor problem had grown into a major menace. It was getting intolerable, unbearable and unpardonable.

Just when I was at the threshold of attaining temporary oblivion, I have this terrible feeling itch my knee. As if something was there. As if something was... biting me. Before I could think any further, my reflexes got into action and my hand landed heavily on my knee. Next moment I hear a buzz close to my ear. And before I knew what was happening, I was up battling against a battery of bloody blood sucking mosquitoes. All I knew was I was slapping myself everywhere and anywhere. Right from my forehead to my heels. I bet the US Air Forse that raided Iraq and Afghanistan had more mercy.

I remember a small prose piece that I came across in the Reader's Digest. To quote in my own words,

"If you feel that you are too insignificant to make an impact in the world, try being locked up in a small room with absolutely no ventilation and no inmates except a mosquito!"

By now, I knew what the author meant. All my acts of self defense were simple futile because there were always more mosquitoes. In the end, I realized, all I was doing was just slapping myself. Feeling cold and irritated, and of course not to forget, very itchy too, I realized that there was not much of sleep left for me. Rest had become close to a fantasy by then. I decided to venture out in the night for staying in the room would be suicidal. Changing back to my cargoes, I left my room and took a look around, only to find every damn mortal enjoying their sweet forty winks. I set out, weary, tired and irritated, to the Octagon, the computer centre.

On my way, I stopped by the coffee stall which was unusually open though it was past 2 in the night. Well, actually, our man was going to shut the stall down when I approached him. The nice guy that he is, got me 4 cups of coffee. A silly thing to do though, drinking coffee when you are actually yearning for sleep. But one must understand, that I had given up on sleep and staying drowsy would have only spoilt the mood. I continued my walk, reached the Octagon and entered the internet lab to find some really frustrated souls breaking their head to jump firewalls and proxies to get their share of late night fantasies. I was in no mood for such adventures, and hence I chose to simply ping into my MSN Messenger and open The Melting Pot Of ICE, to check for any new comments and my hit counter. To my pleasure, Praveena was online from New Jersy and hence bugged her for the rest of the time and simultaneously started keying down my unfortunate attempts at getting at least a snooze. I had bugged her last night also, around this time only. And the night before last, my victim was Gutgut who was online from Ann Harbor, again around this time. It struck me just now.

And now as I'm tired and feeling the extremes of fatigue, I receive an SMS from Vinod, "Hey, whr r u? coming 4 breakfast?" I guess I better join him now.

The Rising: I am KCAB!!!

After a hiatus, here I am, back with yet another god damn post. However, let me warn you, this is no movie review of the Aamir Khan, Tobie Stevens starrer Bollywood biggie, which, incidentally, also marks the return of the Ace Khan himself, after a hiatus of 4 long years. While Mr Khan was preparing himself, the perfectionist that he is, for the movie during his sabbatical, I was just busy with doing nothing in the last two and a half months. And then one fine day, which happens to be today, I wake up from my hibernation, or perhaps, cybernation as some cyber freaks might put it, and decide to give my neurons a good shake to churn out something creative for The Melting Pot of ICE.

I've always believed that engineering destroys creativity. Do not misunderstand me (especially my fellow wannabe techies and my ancestral techies), but it is a fact if you give a good thought to it. A good engineer tries to think and relate everything around him with engineering terms and phenomena. Why, there have been cases of some flirty etudes of the wannabe techy family trying to impress their better halves pretending to be diligent and sound in their area of specialization by making references to serial and parallel ports. Now this is just an example. The other day, we were all out in the city, going for dinner, when our bus was caught in the middle of the usual traffic jam. On one side, the bus was snailing forward by millimeters, irritating the passengers and on the other side, our very good friend (name withheld by request) comes up with this amazing analogy. "Hey guys!" he exclaims, "I've just discovered this interesting analogy." Since there was nothing better to do, the jobless me and my pals were all ears. The girls took a break from their discussions about the latest developments in the conflict between two ladies of the batch, which was nothing short of a soap opera. "A traffic jam is very much like the movement of charges in a semiconductor."

Well, before we proceed, let me warn you that the following description of a painstaking traffic jam is filled with technical terms that would be comprehended only by those who are in anyway remotely connected with science or to be more precise, those who have a decently good knowledge of material sciences, perhaps.

"The movement of charges," he continued his rendition, "in semiconductors is the result of movement of electrons and holes. Now, in reality, its only the electron that moves and when the electron moves, it leaves a space or a void at its initial position, which we refer to as a hole. So as the electron moves forward, a hole is created, which is filled by another electron which moves from its place, where now a new hole is formed." Now, dear reader, take a break and go through the above once again, if you are confused. Back to the analogy, "Ergo, as the electron moves forward, the hole moves backward. Now we all know this. Relating it to a traffic jam, when there is a vacancy created by a car, there is a void which motorists refer to as a gap (subjected to differ depending on the global positioning of the motorist). Now, another car fills this void, thereby leaving a new void in its initial position. Again, ergo, as a car moves forward, the gap moves backward, in ideal cases."

Need I explain the reactions of my chums? Some cried out,"Fundoo!!" while some howled,"Phod-phad!!" while others just sat there, looking helpless. Oh did I forget to say this was an intended humor? Ding-dong for those who did not get it.

In eminent schools for the wannabe techy community, such "humor" is a commonplace. The genre is identified by various names; in NIT Trichy, they call it "Chaat". Now, to the average Indian as well as for an above average foreigner, chaat means an altogether different piece of cake. Well, no, it is not a piece of cake or for that matter, it is no cake at all. It is, actually the Indian version of Fast Food. I'm, however, unaware of the etymology of Chaat in the context I'm referring it to, nonetheless, it stays. Talk about its popularity, it even has an unlisted organization that is notoriously active in the campus. This gang of revolutionaries call themselves the members of the OUCH!! which stands for Organization of Ultra Crass Humorists. The community holds the copyright for the lion's share of chaat circulating in the campus. Their so called "jokes" have been creatively destroying the serene moments, something which is very rarely available, of the ecolites. A few of them are worth a mention.

Disclaimer: The contents of the following prose piece maybe injurious to mental stability of peace loving netizens. Pregnant women and those who suffer from heart ailments are requested to be cautious as the content may result in increased levels of excitement, resulting in actions leading to self harm, primarily pulling of hair and chest beating. Thank you.

Some of these are really trivial. For the starters...
Q: Why doesn't Hitler like drinks made from fresh fruits?
A: Because he hates juice (read as Jews)

Q: Why did the married woman wear her wedding ring on the wrong finger?
A: Because she married the wrong guy.

Q: Why do prominent cosmopolitan cities of the world hold marathons in the name of charity?
A: Because they are running short of funds.

Q: Tom and Jerry were two bus-conductors. Once they were walking in the rain when lightning struck both of them. However, Tom died but Jerry survived. Why?
A: Tom was a bad conductor (of electricity) while Jerry was a good conductor (again, of electricity).

Q: How can you lift an elephant with one hand?
A: No problem at all 'coz you'll never an elephant with one hand.

Q: If Isaac Newton stood on a square of surface area 1 square meter, what would happen to him?
A: He becomes Pascal.

Q: Why are undergraduate architecture students not dangerous"
A: Because B.Arching (read barking) dogs seldom bite. (no offences meant)

Well, the members of OUCH are not only criminal humorists, but established philosophers too. Some of their quotes have been written in gold in the textbooks of philosophy.

"O, P, P, O, R, T, U, N, I, T, Y, N, O, W, H, E, R, E can be either spelt as OPPORTUNITY NOWHERE or as OPPORTUNITY NOW HERE"

"When you jump off a tower, the tower doesn't fall with you."

"humor can be classified into 3:- jokes= which is good humor, PJ=poor joke= which is bad humor, complex joke= P+Ji= where Poor is real while Joke is imaginary"


PS: The author of this post is himself an active member of the outlaw organization, OUCH!!

A Day in the Life of Someone

"Water! Water!" cried a desperate man. Pain written all over his face, there was fear in his eyes. His mouth was open as he strived to inhale. Amidst this struggle, he raised his head and looked into the dark expanse above him, studded with twinkling starlets. It was dark, yet beautiful. Just like this one day of his life.

Just another day for a local cobbler who started his day at seven in the morning, when the monde set out for the rat race. Be it the banker, who wanted his black Liberty polished like mirrors, or the local goon who tore his sandals every other day, the cobbler was always at their service. Most paid him while the rogues denied him any remuneration. This was life, he consoled himself.

It was past sunset. Our man had no idea about the time; he never did. He packed up the bundle of coins which counted to 143 and some decimals, the reward for sitting under the sun for about eleven hours, breathing dust, coughing a few times and polishing thirty six shoes and mending twelve.

It wasn't easy to face his love with nothing in his hands for his house. After a hard day's work, he was intercepted by the money lender on his way back home. Despite his relentless pleading, the stubborn creditor extracted every coin that was there in the bundle, leaving hardly anything for the cobbler, who was, as it is, drowning in debt. With the little math he had learnt from instincts, he knew, what the obstinate dog snatched from him wouldn't clear even a tenth of what he owes him. Well, the commitment doesn't end there. Apart from the borrowed principle, which itself was a sizeable sum, there was a still sizeable price of money to be fed into that hungry hound's hands. Some day, he thought, he will earn so much that he'll throw the entire amount on that rascal's face. Well, what's wrong in thinking? It doesn't cost to think and dream, does it?

As usual, a quarrel which gets a little physical. This evening was no different. Vessels were thrown in his direction. He was blessed with a string of curses form his woman's mouth. Since it was part of the daily agenda, he stood through the entire session, with patience and more importantly, perseverance. After all, he knew, more than anything, that this display of anger was only momentary. For after every storm, there is a melancholy silence. He waited for the silence.

Frustrated and tired, his woman gave up. She turned her back to him and wept to herself. He went to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. He turned her towards him and raised her face to look at him. Her beautiful face was dirtied by the dust of the day and tears of her plight. He wiped the beads of sorrow from her eyes and shielded her from the world in a tight embrace. A happy ceasefire. It was special for them, the union, though, again, it was a part of the daily agenda. After all, she was his sole happiness in this terrible world.

Amidst their little love games, he started feeling uneasy. Something really weird. Perspiration followed by gasps for breath and then the wretched coughs. He became restless. Alarmed, the wife ran for some water for her struggling man. Something was terribly wrong. He looked in the dark sky. The night sky, lit up by a million bulbs. A faint smile on his face and the fear in his eyes disappearing, he felt strangely contented. His head was swooning. Everything he saw seemed to darken, slowly, gradually. Were the bulbs dying out or.....

"Hi! Whats Up?"

That's how it all began. I was utterly surprised! Did she really SMS me? Well, I was full of enthusiasm and jumped with excitement.

Namrata was inducted to the Thespian Society of the college in the last semester. This fresher from the architecture department impressed us, the senior members, with her ability to modulate her voice. And trust me, when I say architecture, she is a dedicated member of the clan. At this point let me confess, she was my personal favorite at the induction. But little did I know that I would have to pay for my frank opinions.

It was just another Sunday, except for the fact that the following day had a cycle test on its way. Well, its a fait a accompli that an engineering student's creativity flows like the Ganges on the eve of exams. This Sunday was no exception for my ever supportive pals to get to their best acts. They have been waiting for the opportune moment to get me in their clutches. This Sunday seemed to be the lucky day when the cosmos favored them.

The fact that I SMSed Namrata occasionally for reasons that were strictly pertaining to the Thespian Society's matters gave my chums food for thought. As I was struggling to control myself to get settled with Control Systems II, I received her first SMS of the day.

Namrata : Hi.. What's up?
Me: Hi Namrata.. I am fine.. You temme.

"Look dudes!! Our man seems to be yearning for some privacy!!", Jovin was quick to inform the other hungry hounds.

"No man!! Its not the person you guys are thinking about..." I defended, knowing that spilling my beans out would have been suicidal. "Anyway, I am going for my bath. Catch you guys later!". I picked up my bucket and the essentials and scooted off to the washroom to hide from the scandalous elements, Vinod and Bharat. Got into an empty vestibule and locked myself up from the rest of the mondial. I took out my mobile and rushed to the Messages menu to reply to Namrata. To fool the world around me, I had turned the tap and let the water flow into my bucket. What followed was a string of messages that flooded the Bharti Telecommunication and Hutchison Telecom networks. Following are the excerpts from this interesting rendez-vous.

Namrata: Am I disturbing you?
Me: No Namrata.. U r not!! I was taking a break anyway! (yeah rite!! I was breaking my head
trying to understand Mr Katsuhiko Ogata)
N: k.. if dats the case, I wanna ask you something! Something personal. Hope you donn
tell this to anybody.
Me: (did she say personal!!) Well, go ahead.. And you have my word..
N: You think I am worthy to be in the Thespian Society? You think I would be able to
pull it off with a decent role? Honestly, I have doubts!
Me:Oh come on! Of course you are! You were too good with your voice modulation. Personally,
you were my favorite. (ok!! I confessed that earlier!!)
N: Thanks a lot for that!! That's a lot of encouragement from a mentor!
Me: (she called me a mentor?? o man!! but hey!! I gotto keep my cool) Well, I guess you
should say "mentors".. In the Thespian Society, our opinions are unanimous. By the way,
I hope you are not feeling bored with our working structure... Considering that you do not
have a role in this upcoming play, yet being in practice for 4 hours every weekday and 7 on
weekends could be atrociously boring.. I have gone through all these myself too.. (yeah
rite!!)
N:Well, not really.. Must confess twas a little monotonous in the beginning.. not anymore,
thanks to a new found pal.. I hope I am not taking too much freedom with you..

That was it!! A new found pal!! I was in the seventh heaven, on cloud no. 9. For once I began to feel different in this stereotype wannabe-techy style life. My immense faith in hope had finally paid off. I was flying in the air of my neo enthusiasm, only to end up melting my wings made of wax.

Me: Oh thanks a bunch Namrata! But you needn't be so formal with moi. I hate formalities.. n
now that you have revealed that you take me to be your pal, lets shed this veil of
unnecessary p's and q's.. They aren't meant for buddies, are they? (I was on my coaxing
best!!)

The reply to this message was the most unwarranted climax.

Namrata: Enough Man!! Finish your bath and get out of there! You'll catch a cold otherwise!

And for the coup de grace, thanks to Mr Vinod's closing remarks from outside my vestibule, "Kudos to you man! How do you manage to SMS while taking a bath?"