Daybreak In Dixie

High upon a mountain

Beneath a huge hickory tree

Waiting for the dawning,

And a squirrel that I might see.

As I sit here and wait

For the breaking of the day,

There is a rustle in the leaves,

A deer has passed this way.

The starlight is fading fast

A new day is dawning,

The squirrels will soon be in the trees

And nuts will then be falling.

Peeping over the hill

And wishing that everyone could see,

Daybreak in Dixie

From beneath a hickory tree.

Towering above all,

Standing so tall,

Sitting on the hickory tree,

Through the sleepy eyes of a monkey....

Down lies the carpet of lush green,

And the meandering river, what a scene!

The days pass and the nights fall,

Arms of the hickory, ever shielding all!

Rage of the wind, fluttered a leaf or two,

Tears of the sky, wetted its feet too,

From its hands, playing children hang,

Remember my love, the songs we sang??

Come my dear, won't you walk with me,

Come with me to the summit and let us see,

From beneath that hickory tree,

In the lap of this night, the Daybreak in Dixie..

- by Manasa Kalkunte and Alfi Ashraf

PS: This was actually a work of my friend, Manasa, posted on her blog KALEIDOSCOPE, I loved her work so much that I added another 4 stanzas to what she wrote. Simply, just like that :P

Shadow In The Dark

I often wonder as I walk,

Why does it always stalk!

Moving as I move,

In the exact same groove?

I try to walk, I try to run,

It still follows, thanks to the sun!

With me in every step I take,

With me in every take and mistake!

Alas, I give up and yeild,

From it I have no sheild,

On my right, in my front, on my left,

Away from me it never drift.

I succumb and call for peace,

Two people but one piece,

For by now we know the fact,

Inseparable we are, intact.

As time goes, we get to know,

The seeds of camarderie we sow,

Moments we have together,

With this dark faceless figure.

Glory be to the bright god,

That gave me my twin from a pod,

For his brightness made me realise,

The dark figure is a friend in disguise.

LO! The light fades,

With it brings dark shades,

The skies go pink and red,

Is this moment I must dread?

The God decides to sleep,

Just when I was about to reap!

God closes the doors and window,

With it the darkness of shadow.

In the night I wonder as I walk,

Was the figure killed by the dark?

Or am I blinded by the night,

Taking the shadow away from my sight?

Moving as I move,

In the exact same groove,

In every step I take,

In every take and mistake....

PS: Split wide open for interpretation :P

Remember Remember, The Fourth of November

Remember, remember the Fourth of November,
The power, election and the slaught,
I can think of no reason, why the election
Should ever be forgot.

Obama, Obama, t'was his intent
To form the government.
Three n half cent of electoral glow
To prove old Republican's overthrow!

Some called him Arab, some called him Black,
They shouted "He's a terror, a traitor,
The quality of a President he lack"
They thought they'd fool the voter.

A pound of Iraq to feed the Bush,
A ship of Marines to serve him,
A barrel of Oil to rinse it down,
And the tax payer to pay him.

A stick or a stake for McCane's sake,
The shock of defeat he may not take,
If you can't give us one, we'll take two,
We'll give the other to Bush too!

By God's providence he was elected
Despite being shunned, mocked and tainted,
Victory, Victory, let the bells ring.
The song of CHANGE, let America sing!

O America, praise the name of God
That saved thee from the GOP rod!
But though the Bush ever be gone,
His sin now be Obama's upon!

Remember, remember the Fourth of November,
The power, election and the slaught,
For generations, all the nations,
This Change is forever to remember!

PS: Inspired by the popular English folklore "Remember Remember the Fifth of November" commemorating Guy Fawkes's Night.

Alfi The Vice

Allow me to introduce myself,
I am not a name off the shelf.
People come to me for advice,
For I am Alfi The Wise!

Open the drapes now,
Look out and see how,
I take your imagination,
Open the doors to a new translation!

Its hard to realize,
I very well surmise,
But you need to trust me,
Because that's how the game be!

I can help through your pain,
Hold an umbrella in the rain,
Be your sunshine,
Baby then why do you whine!

Now Close those books,
It ain't easy as it looks,
For life is a long road,
All I wanna know is are you on board

Words donn say,
No price they pay,
Tears dont drop,
But life ain't yet a full stop!

So come on out now,
Let me show you how,
The game is played,
How the chances are swayed

Look, do you see that door,
Calling out to you for more,
Listen to that beckoning,
Why waste the time in reckoning?

You're not the one and only,
For it is never a road lonely,
Look around you,
You will find someone new!

So now that you know me,
My contact with u be,
Forget me not,
When its cold or hot!



PS: I have no idea why i wrote this.... Just some meandering thoughts.

The Dark Knife

I am trapped inside a crowd,
Of faceless people, crying out loud.
The receding waters of the shore,
Washing away with it, horrors and gore


The crowd moves, at a steady pace,
Chased by cats, a rat race.
Each don't look hither or thither,
The path treaded, of no concern either


I watch the crowd, with doubt and dispair,
Forward or bacward, I do not dare,
For the road forward is progress,
The road behind me, should I not address?


The crowd stares at me and my like,
Our confusion fetches dislike.
For we are scared of the sunset,
As it unleashes the demons, we bet!


Whom do I blame for my fear?
Why is it that I cannot see it clear!
May I accuse the sunset bringing the night,
Or is it my own lack of sight?


The night blinds the likes of me,
The beauty of the night we do not see.
For we are afraid of those who go ahead,
Will leave us powerless and dead


The roses shed their petals and grow horns,
So that the beholder lies on a bed of thorns!
And hence in the name of the faultless Sun,
We choose to take the gun!


"It is prescribed!" We claim,
And our claim spreads with fame,
And more disillusioned like me unite,
Like an army of ants marching to bite


Neither Bush, Prescott, nor Sarkozy,
Can stop me, and never will!
For I am a true Mozy,
And I have the license to KILL!


In this urban concrete jungle of wildlife,
I give my body, soul and life!
I will stab in the name of a meaningless strife,
For, verily, I am the DARK KNIFE!




PS: This piece of work was written after the Delhi blasts. This is neither to encourage nor to support the idea depicted. If one reads with utmost care in comprehension one would realise it merely ridicules. Hence kindly do not jump into any negative conclusions.

A Bitter Sweet Farewell

I stood there, on the shore,
Watching the sky, I adore...
And then the wind blew,
And with the wind my woes flew.

A strange liking, a strange fondness,
An inexplicable kindness,
Oh lord, why oh why am I on this bay,
When I know time will take wind n sky away?

And thus, it happened, the inevitable,
To fight destiny, it is impossible.
What comes to one has to go away,
A strange law, we call the life's way!

So long oh my dear sky,
The distance brings a tear in my eye,
And how could I stop you oh wind, my my,
Pray! Do not say to me bye bye




6th September, 2008, Manasa and Pavan bid farewell to Abu Dhabi... Wrote this on my way to the airport, as I myself was leaving for Doha. We had a splendid time for 2 days in a row, that parting was difficult. 

Wishing them all the best in the life ahead.

My Best Friend's Hyderabadi Wedding

Path carpetted with petals of rose,
Scent of love in the air, it grows.
The moment, much awaited, arrives,
When the cosmos will join them, their lives.

"Make Merry" they said, joy was the mood,
And amidst the celebration I stood,
Witnessing the greatest union,
"Made for each other" we cried in unison.

He came like the wind, slow but soon,
Swept her off her feet, like a devine boon.
She was his sky, infinite expanse of love,
Their love on earth, destined by the High Above!

As I stood in my space, looking,
To Welcome her man like a King!
I knew I had waited for this day in keen,
When he would make her, his queen!

In her eyes I saw a plethora,
Of emotions, of the compassing aura.
In his eyes I saw his heart,
Thanking the devine for this life, this start.

For all those who believed there was nothing,
Nothing called Perfect, oh lord!
Verily, they are not here, seeing everything,
For she and he are more perfect than the perfect god!

Why take things any further,
She completes him, he completes her!
Marriages are made in Heaven,
But the wedding was held in Hyderabad!


On 20th August, two of my greatest friends, my family, Manasa and Pavan were joined in the bond of matrimony. I was lucky to be there, to bear witness to this wonderful day. This is my tribute to the lovely couple..... An Ode to celebrate their wedding

Blackberry Flavoured Lime Tea

"Unsweetened black tea with two lemons squeezed into them..... Basically, lemon tea." I replied when Jabin, my cousin asked me what I'd like to have. A not-so-fine tummy cried out for some relief and the concoction was the perfect solution.

I was visiting Jabin, one of my usual Doha trips. Jabin's family membered by her husband Namrus, kids Raza and Anjal is the perfect example of a quintessential Mallu family in Doha. Doha is a city infested by citizens of Kerala, a southern state of India, who speak the revered language of Malayalam, and hence the baptized term, Mallu. For Doha Mallus, Doha is God's gift to earth. They believe that the Garden of Eden was in fact in Doha and that anything in the Middle East has to come first to Doha, and then only to others. God Bless Doha! I do not claim all Mallus in Doha are alike, but yes, more than one are. If one believes on the contrary, then I take my words back and request to treat this piece as one of my personal experience.

A boring, cold, uninteresting evening in the Middle East's greatest gift to urbanology, Doha. And what adds to this amazing evening that promised nothing short of, well..... um.... nothing, was the fact that it fell on a weekend. One can, hence, understand the predicament of a soul handicapped by lethargy and inactivity, at such a greatly blessed moment. Well, why not pay Jabin a visit, I pondered over. After all, its been almost a week, and a visit was inevitably due, otherwise, the consequences of being labeled haughty, arrogant and boisterous were imminent. Lets go, I decided.

I got comfortable in the living room. Namrus was lazily laid back on the chair, browsing through the a la carte menu of countless varieties of Mallu news channels with his remote, an idea which I have always failed to understand. My contention is not with the channels being Mallu, but how can one stand switching one news channel to the other? It is going to be the same news in all the channels, the same report of corruption of bureaucrats and ministers, the same reports of bomb blowing up places, the same speculation of the government's next move on some not-so-important matter. I fail to understand repeated hearing of the same matter can give an in depth analysis of ground realities.

Just when I could not stand the TV anymore, jabin entered the room with my lemon tea, as a blessing. Jabin a naive lady with fascination for pomp and luxury. Items of vanity excited her, her latest taste being mobile phones. Well, not, exactly the latest, at least since the last couple of years, and she is the proud housewife who owns a Nokia N95 that screams out deperately, "PLEASE USE ME!". As she gave me my tray, she started a rather interesting and amusing conversation.

Jabin (ever excited, ever bubbly): Alfi, do you know that a new phone service has been introduced by QTel (the telecom provider of Doha, Qatar). Its called Blackberry. It seems one can check emails and all in it. Do you know anything about it?

Me (calm, composed and in control): Hmmm... Yes, I did see it in the papers and a few ads on the street. Pretty good service.

Jabin (apparently amused by my disinterest): It seems it is amazing. Does your Dubai have Blackberry? It seems Blackberry is being introduced for the first in the Gellf (aka Gulf or Arabian Gulf) in Doha.

Me (pitying the ignorance of my dear cousin): I don't think so Jabin. If my memory serves me right, Blackberry has been in the UAE (of which Dubai is a part of) since 2000. Hence it is not the first time in the Gulf.

At this point, Jabin's face changes a little and with much effort, the mouth that has been working overtime for the last few minutes reluctantly forces a much dejected "oho" out. While this small talk was in session, Namrus, a die hard Qatar (of which Doha is the capital city) patriot, was listening to everything. And then, what I dreaded the most happens.... He breaks his silence.

Namrus (with much command and a patronizing tone): How much does it cost? Do you know?

Me (again, calm and a matter-of-fact tone): About QR 2500.00 (=US$680.00). And service fee of QR 300.00 (=US$80.00) per month for international roaming facility for the service.

Jabin (further dejected at the high cost): Oh.... Then he (Namrus) will not buy. Too expensive.

Namrus (a man whose aspirations have been demolished): Hmmm... What all technology has to offer today. But it is of no use to the common man. It is only an article to show off.

Me (this time pitying the trauma of the man): Well, it is not meant for the common man, in the first place. It is meant for people who travel a lot and whose office travels with them. It is a powerful tool to keep executives on the toe and constantly updated on matters. Not everyone holds such positions of criticality, and hence not everyone is expected to own a Blackberry.

I guess, they did not expect such a reply from moi. An awkward silence followed. I was not bothered and unaffected. I sipped my tea and enjoyed the flavor of freshly squeezed lemon, whose vapors created an intoxicating effect. I was relishing the tea, and so was my tummy.

Jabin (breaking the deadlock, trying to pick on me): Alfi, you had that lousy Nokia 6210, right? Haven't you changed it still? Which one do you have now?

A question that I least expected. I placed my tea cup on the table in front of me. I put my hands into my pocket and took out my phone to show her.

Action spoke louder than words, I guess.

KnocK KnocK!!

In front of me stands a door,
Gateway to The Peninsula, I adore.
Speaking to a dead soul did I stand,
"Whats Happening?" she could not understand!

"Alfi Ashraf is my name,
"Friend of Fijula, the dame.
"I am here coz I was invited,
"A challenge for which I was excited"

"Thatha, someone for you at the door!"
Cried a pretty princess alore!
With caution, doubt did she come,
A sight, was a shock welcome?

"YOU???" did she cry,
"Dinn think you would try.
"Weren't you supposed to be in Abu Dhabi?
"Pray! Come in, don't stand in the lobby"

"Isn't she awake, your mother?
"Thought I'd greet thy father.
"If it isn't a moment of obstruction,
"May I make my introduction?"

"Just come in you stupid fool!
"And place your bottoms on the stool!"
What a greeting, I thought,
Was this a meeting for which I fought?

As I seated on a chair in the hall,
From the interiors came a lady of tall.
Along with her another princess,
And of course, a tired soul, awaken in distress.

Smiles did we exchange,
Comfortable, for a change.
The mother asked, "Something cold or hot?"
I said, "Nothing in a long shot"

Yet she sent some water for the thirst,
And a juice of mango to be had first!
Flattered by the hospitality and easia,
I forgot to drink the juice, my amnesia!

"Jump!" I told the stubborn one,
"To hell with you! You mandan!"
And thus she broke the pact,
She did not expect a defeat, thats the fact!

And just when I thought I was having fun,
I ended up scaring a little one!
For the bubbly little fairy wouldn't speak,
Humor in my presence she did not seek!

All good things have to come to an end,
And to this moment, the rule would not bend!
Hence the time came to say bye bye,
"Next time, do again stop by"

The End

When the blinds open
My fears only deepen
For I am not in a heaven,
But in a dark raven.

Why o why do I feel,
With every step I deal,
As my fate would unveil,
My wounds are never to heal?

Is this something I have to pay?
Why don't someone just say!!
Where do my answeres lay?
Oh Please! Before I go far... Far away....

Tell me, whom did I wrong?
Around me, why do sorrows throng?
A hand, a hug, a word I long...
Or... Is this where I really belong?

Ah I forget, who wants to hear,
The cribbing of just a man, mere
And there is nobody near.
Ah! This life is nothing but a failure.

Allow me to go back in time
To heal the wounds I burnt with lime,
Ring the bells and chyme,
As penance for sins and my crime.

Life has taken me to this road,
Neither a hut nor an abode,
No longer, these can I afford,
Its too late to turn back the mode....

Why should I whine or weep?
So what if I am atop a steep?
Now, ha! No promise to keep,
All I have is just a leap!

With a smile I hug what I get,
Everything is so very set,
I'm sure there'll be a fete,
To celebrate my end, the ultimate.

Aah! I am free finally
No worry, no pain, falling freely
As I go down this deep valley,
Can't wait... For the end re-ally....



PS: I don't know why I wrote this.

The Battle Within

Forgive me O blogging world for my unreasonably long break. A natural question that would arise would be, "WHY?" Well, read on for the answer to that very question.

As you must have seen in my blog page, there was a post that said, "En Autobus- Coming shortly". Yes it was supposed to have come long ago. But I kind of took a vacation from the blogging zone for reasons that were disturbing and hurting. Initially it started with the usual lethargy. But later, the happenings around took lethargy to a level that was, for once I thought, point of no return.

It all started with the reports of abuse coming from the Guantanamo Bay prison. Two inmates had committed suicide and the apparent ill treatment of the inmates were flowing out in the media. Obviously, my sentiments were with the inmates. Their crime, by no means pardonable, but definitely deserves a trial and fairplay. So much has been kept away from the world regarding the fate of these people. The photos and videos really painted a ghastly picture of the situation. My attitude? It was just the beginning.

I was at my home in Calicut, Kerala, enjoying the rains on an amazing monsoon evening. Sipping my hot coffee and talking with Trisha on the phone. Its been a long time since I got her on the line. So we were engaged in a long conversation from topics varying from what's-happening to my feelings on the present day situation of the world. Trisha is one of those people with whom I could engage myself in a good and mature talk, and usually, we don't have an idea how time flies once we start. Amidst her busy Mumbai life, I finally got her on the phone, on her walk from the office to catch her evening train.

"Hey Alf! I gotto catch my train now! I'll give you a call once I reach home?"

"Cool! No issues. Have fun! And yeah, take care!"

"You take care! I'm fine. He he he"

"Yeah right!!" and both of us burst into a laughter. And then suddenly, it happened!

The earpiece jarred by a loud sound. And the line got cut. It was weird. Something told me that something was going wrong. I thought it was something else and hushed up my invalidated apprehension. It is an act of instinct that I call back the person when the phone gets cut abruptly, even if it is to say just a "bye!". Strange, as it may seem, I didn't do it at that moment. Instead, I got back to crafting my so called magnum opus titled 12 May 2006: A Day In My Life, which was to feature on The Melting Pot of ICE . However I tried concentrating, the reason for that abrupt end was still lingering in my mind. It got me so much that I decided to give in and try calling Trisha. I tried her number, but the phone was engaged. I tried her again. Same response. I tried a third time. This time the operator lady with an awful voice said that the mobile phone I was trying was either switched off or out of range. Hmmm... Out of range. Strange, Borivali was out of range for mobile networks.

Some TV was the answer for a good distraction. When switched on, fate had entertainment planned out for me with the NDTV 24x7 coming on screen reporting the breaking news which broke the peace of many a minds. All the while, I prayed for only one thing, please don't say Borivali. But who listens to me? Pictures from Borivali station flashed on the screen. I felt numb, choked, emotionless. I had no idea what I was feeling. But I did know one thing, this was going to stab my mind for a long time to come.

My name is Alfi. That's all you know. But my full name is Alfi Ashraf. Yes, I am a Muslim. I was born as a Muslim, I live as a Muslim and I will die as a Muslim. But perhaps not the Muslim that the world perceives to be. I don't have a long beard and a head gear or a skull cap. I'm clean shaven but I do sport a stubble sometimes because of my lethargy to shave. I don't spend hours in the mosque. My friends, barring a few, are all non Muslims. Of course, I do not consume alcohol or eat pork, but that's because of my own reasons and I use religion as a guide that advises not to. I listen to rock and heavy metal just like all of you. And yes, I do love my religion, but not the way these guys do. I have read the Qur'an and learnt its meanings too, though not by heart, but yes, I do have a fair knowledge and I'm still learning.

My name is Alfi. Alfi Ashraf. Born in Kerala and brought up in Abu Dhabi, the United Arab Emirates, which despite being an Islamic country, is very liberal. I am an Indian and I love India. In an India Pakistan match, I support India. I believe India is very much my country, my motherland just any other non Muslim Indian. My mother tongue is Malayalam and not Urdu or Arabic. I have no problems in singing Vande Mataram or even shouting it aloud, because its hardly blasphemous if your belief in Allah is strong and your intention is unharmed. Thanks to AR Rahman, a pious Muslim himself, and a celebrated music composer, who made Vande Mataram what it is today for me.

My name is Alfi Ashraf. A helpless 20 something individual in this world, trying to make an identity for himself as ALFI ASHRAF first, then a Muslim or an Indian or whatever. But his identity is hurt because he is scared whether he'll ever achieve it. Thanks to suggestions on passenger profiling, which by the way, he believes, is only a beginning to what might be an open discrimination against the Muslims. He blames the Muslims for this and not the Americans or the British. He looks around and sees only destruction wherever Muslims are there. He sees suspicion wherever Muslims are there. At the end of the day, he asks, "Is there anything for me to be proud of?"

He thinks that its time we wake up and stop this bloodshed and apocalypse. When the world is leaping to greater heights of development, we cannot afford to have an Afghanistan and Iraq. True, there are evils on this earth. But we must understand, we do not have enough sympathies with us. There is injustice, no doubt, but we have nothing to validate them because, we are committing greater horrors. If the world has gone paranoid, it is because we have given them a good reason to. If we can threaten to blow up anything and everything, then what's the harm in them blowing us up?

Its time! Its time..............


PS1: Trisha was outside the Borivali station when the Mumbai blasts of 7/11 took place. Borivali was also one of the blast sites. Trisha escaped without any injuries as she was outside the station on the phone when it happened.

PS2: This is not meant for generating controversy or bad talk. This was just a compilation of my feelings and the mental unrest I was going through, being a citizen of this world, a concerned Muslim. I request you to please respect my sentiments and if you have any reservations, please express them in a humane manner. Remember, the Qur'an says, Innallaha Ma'a as-Sabireen (God is with those who have patience).

I AM ALIVE

One of those usual evenings in the Central Lecture Complex with practice proceeding at snail's pace, when my mobile starts ringing at level 5. The screen showed the name "Carol" flashing. I picked up the call to a loud question from the bearer of the name, "HOW THE HELL ARE YOU?" For this expected question, I had only one answer, "I am alive."

Big respects and greetings to the blogging world. February'06 has been pretty happening for me. Starting with my dramatics team scoring at the dramatics event at the IIM Banglore fest, Unmaad'06, coming second place, to a race against time to meet deadlines. The month has been pretty hectic and as an engineer would put it, heavily scheduled. To an outsider, the final semester in NIT Trichy means heaven, thanks to a class or two in a day. But the underlying truth is that one has a lot of other work burdening him/her. When I say work, I do not necessarily mean indulging in activities of pleasure, but activities which are very much classified under the category of curricular. The eighth semester students are confronted by some thing called as a PROJECT which has to be done in the semester and it carries a mammoth 6 credits, which is very, very big. Do you take part in it with full conviction or not is a different matter to debate, but nonetheless. And, as if this is not enough, you have other things to do like, for me, there is The Thespian Society, the Reminiscence, practice for the inter department festival called NITTFEST'06 and many others. Thus, paradox of the situation is, you think you are really free in the eighth semester, but actually you are not.

When all these are eating my head and sanity away, one fine day, I wake up in a strange bed, with a weird plastic gas mask kind of thing, covering my nose and mouth. It did take some time for me to realize that there was a very dear friend and a lady dressed in white and a white cap, looking like a nurse, were beside my new bed. What puzzled me, of course, was that I remember going to bed the night before, feeling very uneasy with myself. It was as if I was a carrying a large boulder on my chest and feeling extremely tired of its weight on my lungs. And that's it! That is all I remember! The next thing I know that I wake up in this totally strange place with all sorts of medical equipment surrounding me and a lady dressed like a nurse standing by my bedside with my worried friend with her. Then it struck me, that the place was indeed a hospital and she not only dresses like a nurse, but she is a nurse.

"What happened? Why am I here?" a puzzled me asked my relieved friend.

"Thank God! Relax now. Last night you were having problems in breathing and gasping very badly for breath. You were brought here and the doctor put you to sleep with the nebulizer. We were waiting for you to wake up so that an XRay of your lungs could be taken. The doctor will be here soon. Don't worry."

Hmmm.. Well, I didn't know how to react to that. Maybe because I was too drowsy and the god damn weight on my chest was causing more fatigue. Later, a wheelchair was brought and I was taken for the XRay. I could barely move. A step I take and I feel spent out. But I couldn't really think. And this is what the doctor tells me, followed by a thousand watts smile, "It is only a normal chest congestion. Don't worry. Apparently, air flow to your right lung has stopped. I will administer some antibiotics. You should be alright soon." A normal chest congestion? Since when did chest congestions be normal? And no air flow to the right lung? Since when did that be normal too? And after all this he tells me not to worry, after all, I should be alright soon. Should be? Soon? How soon? Oh-o! I shouldn't worry... I forgot.

Well, it took two weeks. I missed my one set of internal tests. My Valentine's Day went for a six. And, oh yeah, I forgot, I lost some good amount of weight. Apart from the latter, there was nothing so good about this normal chest congestion. And of course, I had a reason to stop verbal communication because the doc advised me, again with his thousand watts smile, not to talk much. Travel was also forbidden. I other words, for two weeks, I was cut off from civilization.

When I did return from my exile, I discovered that I had loads of work pending. I am sure, Mr Hercules must have been happy to see a contender in me. It was back to the usual schedule of late night working and running to classes in the morning which, eventually, just when you reach the threshold of the room, you are informed that the lecture is cancelled. And to top it all, the internet lab, my favorite night spot, was shifted to an annexe of the Octagon, to accommodate more computers for the growing population of the college junta and security for this place had not yet been arranged. Hence it was put to a 12 hour working schedule, which meant the lab closed at 8:00 pm. My diatribes seem never ending, thanks to the ever generous cosmos.

However, tonight I am a happy man. They have finally put a guard for the internet lab and its back to the 24/7 system. My work has kind of eased, but the frustration still lurks. But why do I have to care now, after all, I can cry in the internet in the lap of night, read blogs of my peers, write my heart out, and then, wait for the next days unfolding; a new set of troubles, new set of ill lucks, new experiences.

Greetings fraternity, Alfi aka hotICE is still alive, with an abnormally normal chest, strangely with both my lungs working fine. Thank you for still being there......

The Plug

Dr Cherian gave his suggestion after the meeting. With both kidneys failed and a massive heart attack, there was no chance of survival. Thanks to the ventilator, clinically, he is still alive. The ball was in the court of the family. They were to make the choice. A choice which would decide whether he lives like a vegetable in the ventilator, or...

Kadri Sahib was man of immense maturity and wisdom. I have hardly seen him in real life, but heard a lot about him from my father. My father's association with Kadiri Sahib goes back to his pre degree days in Calicut, where he was not just a student, but a budding businessman. Kadiri Sahib was more like a guardian to him than a working partner. My father still says, "If it wasn't for Kadiri Sahib, I would have been like one of those senseless boys of prominent families of Kerala who went astray with all the fortune their ancestors had made." No doubt he had his respect and admiration for him. And so did the rest of Calicut.

But today, after almost 32 years, Kadiri Sahib lies in the Intensive Care Unit in the Calicut Institute of Medical Science, Calicut, after a massive cardiac arrest. He has been undergoing dialysis for the last six to eight months. And now the cardiac arrest has left him with a body that is nothing more than a vegetable; alive but cannot react, cannot emote, cannot express. A pathetic state which really intimidates. What good is life if you cannot do these? What good is life if you cannot move? What good is life if you cannot feel? What good is life if you cannot live?

The entire concept of life and death has been a very intriguing one for me. Many a times have I questioned myself- if we have to die one day, why do we live? Why do we have ambitions in life if we know we are going to perish and none of these things, whatever we achieve, do not come with us? What use has it been to Leonardo da Vinci that all his genius provided some brilliant paintings, engineering inspirations and invaluable contributions of art when he has dissolved in the soils of wherever he was buried? How does it matter whether the world still talks about his feats; he cannot hear them, he cannot bask in the glory of them!

But somehow, I suppress myself with the age old philosophy,"Whatever begins, needs to end." In parallel, just as every life is gone, there is a new life born. But that still doesn't answer my primary question, WHY?

Its been more than forty eight hours since the cardiac arrest. Kadiri Sahib was being survived with the help of the ventilator which forces him to breath, instigates blood circulation in his cardiovascular system and in plain words, simply survive. A better way of looking at it would be, he is not living, he is being made to live. He is not living by himself, a machine is forcing him to live. Tubes that inject nutrition, tubes that pump air into his lungs, and many other gadgets, thanks to modern biomedical instrumentation, giving life support. But for how long was the question.

The doctor who was administering his case, Dr Cherian, gave his opinion. According to him, there was no chance of optimism for Kadiri Sahib's life ahead, medically. With both kidneys failed and a heart that was stubborn not to respond on its own, only a miracle could save the 81 year old veteran. But sadly, the time was well over the hope for miracles. The nearest kin had to make the decision. The question was not whether to or not to, the question was, when. How could they convey this to the other relatives who thronged outside the ICU?

The crowd was huge outside the ICU. It not just Kadri Sahib's well wishers, but there were relatives of the other patients too. Also, the near and dear ones of those in the labor room thronged in the same place, for the maternity ward was just opposite to the ICU. However, most of the people there did know of Kadiri Sahib's condition, for he was a man known to a good section of Calicut's population. My father found his way through the crowd, a mixture of worried faces, and escorted to the ICU by Kadiri Sahib's son Assu.

The monde outside the ICU waited. Inside, in the presence of the doctor, Assu wetted the unconscious Sahib's lips with the holy water from the Zam Zam springs in Mecca. The kin, including my father, broke into reciting verses from the Qur'an and chanting prayers. And then, when the moment arrived, there was pin drop silence in the room. Everyone looked at each other. Their eyes were moist with tears. Here they were, with tension and sorrow killing them inch by inch, and there lies the man who is going to die, or lets say, clinically murdered. Here were faces that had the frown of the forehead and cringing eyes, and there lies the Sahib, with the expression of inexplicable serenity. If only he moved a muscle, he lifted his hands perhaps, start coughing, or maybe just wake up from this troubling sleep, if only that miracle could happen.... If it could happen now!

"Assu, may I?" asked Dr. Cherian.

The exploding silence was deafening. My father held Assu's arm. He nodded his head affirmative.

The plug of the ventilator was removed. The plots in the oscilloscopes went feeble. Just then, Kadiri Sahib began to gasp lightly, the plots shot up. And then... It was all over. The screens had simple straight lines rather than twisted curves. "La Ilaha Illa Allah! Inna lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Raji'oon! Assu, everything is over."

They came out of the ICU to address the crowd that had thronged outside to know of the developments. The news was let out, the women folk burst into tears. There was a chanting of "Inna lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Raji'oon" in unison. A life had been lost. A man had just died. Sorrow filled the air. Everyone comforted each other at the loss.

"Anwar Saadat? Where is Anwar Saadat?" cried the nurse outside the labor room, which faced the ICU. The man in question gave his attendance from the crowd.

"Congratulations! You have a boy!"

Are You DEAD?

That's what half the junta associated with me have been flooding my inboxes of my email, mobile and even my blogger comments with. Well, can't blame them, for I have indeed been in exile for quite some time. Thanks to a whole lot of pleasing things happening in my life. As it is things are moving really smoothly in my life, when my friends decide to add fuel to fire by bowling me over with quizzes regarding my well being and sanity. So here is for all you curious little chaps and buddies, to my adopted siblings- present and would be ones too, to my lovely girlfriends (do I have any?), to ever caring relatives and family people, to the world on which I am a burden, once and for all, I AM VERY MUCH ALIVE!

The New Year hasn't been so very new to me. Apart from the fact that I always have the bank counter guy giving me weird stares when he realizes that I haven't moved on with the times, signing with date DD/MM/05. I'm pretty lousy at updating you see, and my blog is an excellent exemplary. Coming back, so the New Year, to me, has got nothing so new about it. The celebration in the hostel on the New Year's eve was one of its kind. There was a huge raging bonfire, loud music (read as noise) and rivers of the right kind of beverages flowing. People scaled greater heights, thanks to potted plants with weeds. There was merry in the air and everyone was in this state of strange frenzy. However, I failed to understand why so much of hoopla about a New Year? After all, when you wake up in the morning of January 1, its inevitably going to be SSDD (read Same Shit Different Day).

Despite all these reasons which gave me aversions to the whole idea of a New Year's Eve celebration, I still joined the festivities. It was a different feeling that started bubbling in me. And since then, its been only growing in me. There is this vague steam in me which is building, and I'm afraid, one day, I'll burst...

On 3rd September, 2002, I came to Regional Engineering College Trichy, which was of course, on its way of being rechristened as National Institute of Technology Trichy (NIT Trichy), with the dreams of becoming an engineer of caliber and competence. Since then, there has been no looking back, different matter that its been a really bumpy ride for me. There have been moments in my stay here when I felt extremely defeated. There were moments when I wanted to run away from this place. There were instances when I wanted to commit murder. There were instances when I was applauded and wanted to fly in the appreciation. There were times when some people entered my life and I wished they stayed there forever. And today, I know for sure, that I feel really bad about one truth...

Today, 24 January 2006, as I sit here in the Internet lab which gave birth to a blogger in me, I face that impending truth. In 4 months time, I would be transformed from a wannabe techy, a would be engineer to an engineer with a BTech degree. Of course, that is something to be amazingly happy about. My parents would be proud. My friends would be proud. My community would be proud. And I? I'm proud of course, no doubt, but in the heart of hearts, I'm scared. Will I live with the trade off that I'll be leaving this god forsaken campus, about which I crib about 24/7, yet love it with the same love that I love my house? My friends who gave me the support and reason to fight? My love and passion that I found here in people and things, will they all fade away? Will I lose them all, just for the sake of a degree? I'm scared... I'm scared...

Life is a journey up a hill, some say. Life a river that flows, some say. But I don't care what life is, but this is certainly not the way it has to treat me. In the last 3 years and so, I've found so much comfort and peace in many a person in this place that it really petrifies me that one fine day, a train journey will change everything, from my going to lectures straight from bed to wearing the same pair of jeans for days together.

But then, I guess that is the way life is. A long train journey. From one station to another, meeting new people till their station is reached or yours. And then, they are simply but a piece in memory. Sometimes you have the option of upgrading from the unreserved to reserved compartment, from the reserved to AC compartment and so. And in the process, you meet more people, more experiences, more things recorded in memory. A train of events. The train of life.

To all those whom I met in this train, I'm still alive, thanks to your prayers and wishes.

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?