Parle marie!
Nobody apart from the weirdest of us
wants to put up with this maxima of fuss
to write an entree : What infernal cad
could I mean when I use legal ruled pad?
Why would I ape the ape
and in rhythmic poesy drape
what now is sure to turn out
as far-worse lines than ‘Little Johnny Stout’?
But, my dear H.-D., you forget the scheme too soon,
I have always obliged to play the buffoon.
Its just me to do this, when I could have written sense,
to cause you to plough through this drivel and repense.
Poetic meter really doesn’t suit me
“Use the hexameter; but never touch the three!”
“Blah and bull!”, I dare spout
“But I resort to this to get a fourth short of 4 sheets to fill out.”
“Much-o ado about nothing!”, I hear you say.
“SRC, where’s the cold edge, where is the flay?
Where’s the swoop-in-&-kill, where’s the cuttin’ comment?
Where indeed now is the exaggerated lament?”
“H.-D.”, I cut in, “Isn’t this too much talk
before one has time to get down to the real stock?
You mean well, I can see.
But give it a little time, plee’?”
“I may not be a Dahl”, I add, “I may not be a Grass.
But surely there is no reason to think I’ll write so crass.
Come on now, old chum, I‘ll show you the works.
Bring out the judge, the jury and the critic that lurks.”
“We have had hot air now for quite some time.
You had us wrapped up in your useless rhyme.
Stop ditherin’ now, I give you warnin’ fair.
For your tomfoolery, I have little care.”
Thus spake you and my blood did boil,
“H.-D., you ass, can’t you guess my inner turmoil?
Much as you weren’t like me, for this little amount of time
I really wanted you to be a lunch-mate of mine.
You weren’t ‘in’, I knew, but I wasn’t looking for that.
And well, round is a shape - but I rather call you fat.
But 2nd year had taught me that appearances are deceptive:
To cha and adda, I had guessed you would be receptive.
How was I to know, now, that this burden would be so light -
two mutton dosa, and a bottle of Sprite?
Getting together without pre-forged links
for what in your local slang was “Ekta cold drinks!”
On second thoughts, did we cluster up to scavenge that food?
Or were we scrounging for something else – may be a prelude?
To things and people we were hence to meet
I guess a pre-ordination to share more than a D-school seat.
I wasn’t the best enunciator; I spoke too fast.
But one ear to the ground, you heard me out to the last.
H.-D. – a brilliant man in too simple a trapping
But come lunch, and no more d-orbital mapping.”
“Enough said, bondhoo!”, you butt in, “You make me rummy!
I had no clue you too felt we were so chummy.
All this touchy-feely business is making me sneezy.
Not watery, mind you – that would be too easy!”
But I insist, “Comrade, I too share some insight.
Though I admit your ‘My bed is ready’ gave me quite a fright.
But I was circumspect; you well might have been gay
But of all the corny lines, you couldn’t have found this to say.
I soon put it down to typographical error,
evidently a case where the logic, your words could not mirror
But what were mere words to the man who could think
I smelled bad when he was the one with chronic foot-stink?
And who indeed would forget his Ranji-esque late cut
under lights where one couldn’t make out the ball from his butt?
Then again, the courtesy of insisting on sleeping on the floor;
and then nodding off lightly: the chatter quickly became a bore.
Everything said and done – it wasn’t all fluff.
Between ourselves we did talk quite a bit of the heavy stuff.
But I guess the fun part was when Coffee came in with her vapor
and all the bourgeois talk and spirals on tissue-paper.
Crosswords withCoffee, and the methylorange beaker.
But wait, do we have to put a sticker
on what we said and what we didn’?
I vote we keep some unspoken talk hidden.
It was good while it was – all this what started on a hunch;
Me asking you and you agreeing to lunch.
Can I say now, or will you still linger?
For the last time, to you H.-D., the salute of the middle finger!”
That's the founding editor{of a 'sometimely' journal - "Untitled"}'s farewell message to an individual, two years ago!!
For people who are unaware... that's Sourav Roy Chowdhury at his uncanny best!!
Best,
Carbide
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
An Epicurean delight
It's been quite some time since I last went gaga over vegetarian food, but then one has to visit authentic joints in some quiet nook of the city to get a taste of utter delight. It was on a quest like this, that I had first set out on exploring the Central Tiffin Room (popularly known as CTR) on 7th Cross, Malleswaram (R.K. Narayan had been inspired by Malleswaram and Basavagudi for the much celebrated 'Malgudi' Days). And it wouldn't be a hyperbole to say that my taste buds were more than rewarded!
The hotel, more than forty years of glory already under its cap, resembles a petite French bistro from outside. As one enters, what strikes you first is the fact that the place is perpetually crowded, thanks to a large number of loyal customers who keep returning! An old Grandfather clock on the wall, Bhagavad Gita inscriptions around, a menu chart scripted only in Kannada and diyas on the cash counter add to the antediluvian charm of the place.
The Benne Masal Dose (Butter Masala Dosa) in CTR is like manna from heaven. Period. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside; the golden brown dosa cooked in a generous helping of butter and potato palya is the right flavor to set your mood after a busy day of routine work. Besides their signature dish, also on the offer are rava idlis, Mangalore bhajji, aloo poori and many other delicacies. What sets aside CTR from a dozen other good eateries in and around the city is the authentic chutneys they serve, not to mention the piping hot coffee, thick and bitter, served in the traditional South indian style of a tumbler in a katori. Post meal, the waiters serve small cuttings from old newspapers thats serve as hand wipers!
After a sumptous finger-licking meal, with a song on my lips...pet pujo complete, I headed back to the familiar campus. And started counting days till I would visit CTR again! :-)
The hotel, more than forty years of glory already under its cap, resembles a petite French bistro from outside. As one enters, what strikes you first is the fact that the place is perpetually crowded, thanks to a large number of loyal customers who keep returning! An old Grandfather clock on the wall, Bhagavad Gita inscriptions around, a menu chart scripted only in Kannada and diyas on the cash counter add to the antediluvian charm of the place.
The Benne Masal Dose (Butter Masala Dosa) in CTR is like manna from heaven. Period. Crisp on the outside, soft on the inside; the golden brown dosa cooked in a generous helping of butter and potato palya is the right flavor to set your mood after a busy day of routine work. Besides their signature dish, also on the offer are rava idlis, Mangalore bhajji, aloo poori and many other delicacies. What sets aside CTR from a dozen other good eateries in and around the city is the authentic chutneys they serve, not to mention the piping hot coffee, thick and bitter, served in the traditional South indian style of a tumbler in a katori. Post meal, the waiters serve small cuttings from old newspapers thats serve as hand wipers!
After a sumptous finger-licking meal, with a song on my lips...pet pujo complete, I headed back to the familiar campus. And started counting days till I would visit CTR again! :-)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Insomnia...
It has now been close to 4 months since I came to this beautiful university town called Ithaca. Tonight is the first one when it reminded me of the hill stations, I have been to in my country.
Bubbles have fascinated me since childhood. Their ephemeral yet beautiful existence, the infinitesimally small timescale that separates the glorious gossamer from oblivion has appealed to me. I often fantasize life to be comprised of a string of bubbles having an ephemeral existence, as beautifully outlined in 'Change' by Platinum.
Post dinner, I had to walk back to my laboratory to wind up a few experiments. Prior to my experimental sojourn, I wished to have my share of insomnia, tonight. Its really delectable!! Insomnia is a chain of stores which serve yummy cookies in a handful of US universities. I grabbed for myself a triple chocolate cookie. Walked out of the store and cookie in hand, I searched for a bench for the two of us - myself and the feeling (I have come to know as my more significant half). A zephyr blew, downtown was lit up, I could hear a timid "Hello" at the other end, we took our first bite into the cookie - the bubble dissolved into thin air.
Bubbles have fascinated me since childhood. Their ephemeral yet beautiful existence, the infinitesimally small timescale that separates the glorious gossamer from oblivion has appealed to me. I often fantasize life to be comprised of a string of bubbles having an ephemeral existence, as beautifully outlined in 'Change' by Platinum.
Post dinner, I had to walk back to my laboratory to wind up a few experiments. Prior to my experimental sojourn, I wished to have my share of insomnia, tonight. Its really delectable!! Insomnia is a chain of stores which serve yummy cookies in a handful of US universities. I grabbed for myself a triple chocolate cookie. Walked out of the store and cookie in hand, I searched for a bench for the two of us - myself and the feeling (I have come to know as my more significant half). A zephyr blew, downtown was lit up, I could hear a timid "Hello" at the other end, we took our first bite into the cookie - the bubble dissolved into thin air.
Carbide
Friday, December 5, 2008
The feeling of 'Nothingness'
I dunno whether 'nothingness' is a word...actually I cant really think of a better word at this moment in my fourth and fifth dimensions - time and life!!
Today is close to a fortnight after my motherland was scarred in excess of 4100 times in the last 34 years!! And it has evoked a wide spectrum of reactions from her denizens. However the first and the eventual one would have a high consensus among all classes of Indians. To begin with, most of us were awestruck and in the long run most of us shall let time get the better of us. It would only be confined to a dusty magazine cover and for a handful - that of their heart.
I have sat back to brood about the proceedings that has been occurring in my motherland and my search for answers has always brought me to the same place where I had embarked on my sojourn. Nothing else but 'nothingness' prevails there, currently.
The milieu comprises - the feelings of a friend who had his better half minutes away from the gunshots which got conveyed miles across to this antipode, thanks to advances in telecommunication; distantly knowing the Indian doctor who treated one of the injured miscreants, having most of my near ones in that land and having a mixed bag of highly opinionated individuals around. The people closest to the site of action (or inaction initially, as opposition parties would slur) had a sense of urgency - trying their best to reverse the course of things. People like me at a distance had lesser urgency and hence more time to delve into the deluge of thought processes.
We as individuals always look for solutions to problems. Some of us want to strategically eliminate some of the places where these miscreants are trained, some of us want to mount the international pressure on the state that houses these people, some of us are trying hard to keep Mumbai as normal as possible in order to pay homage to the demised individuals, some of us think that a lot has been taken for granted as the spirit of Mumbai, some of us earnestly look up to the sky and sigh in our quest for answers, some of us choose to ignore the proceedings becoz we didnt lose a friend or a family member and then there are some of us who are trying to gain political mileage out of it, some who are surmising the future of South Asia and then again there are some of us who are planning our next strike!!
The definition of 'us' is so contorted and limited to some of us - human beings, that we not only fail to identify our problems but severely cripple our approaches to solve it.
At this point, I lose it all and turn back to my gramophone -
"...You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one"
Carbide
I have sat back to brood about the proceedings that has been occurring in my motherland and my search for answers has always brought me to the same place where I had embarked on my sojourn. Nothing else but 'nothingness' prevails there, currently.
The milieu comprises - the feelings of a friend who had his better half minutes away from the gunshots which got conveyed miles across to this antipode, thanks to advances in telecommunication; distantly knowing the Indian doctor who treated one of the injured miscreants, having most of my near ones in that land and having a mixed bag of highly opinionated individuals around. The people closest to the site of action (or inaction initially, as opposition parties would slur) had a sense of urgency - trying their best to reverse the course of things. People like me at a distance had lesser urgency and hence more time to delve into the deluge of thought processes.
We as individuals always look for solutions to problems. Some of us want to strategically eliminate some of the places where these miscreants are trained, some of us want to mount the international pressure on the state that houses these people, some of us are trying hard to keep Mumbai as normal as possible in order to pay homage to the demised individuals, some of us think that a lot has been taken for granted as the spirit of Mumbai, some of us earnestly look up to the sky and sigh in our quest for answers, some of us choose to ignore the proceedings becoz we didnt lose a friend or a family member and then there are some of us who are trying to gain political mileage out of it, some who are surmising the future of South Asia and then again there are some of us who are planning our next strike!!
The definition of 'us' is so contorted and limited to some of us - human beings, that we not only fail to identify our problems but severely cripple our approaches to solve it.
At this point, I lose it all and turn back to my gramophone -
"...You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one"
Carbide
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Change...
As a toddler, I never thought I'd ever be able to live without my favorite doll...bedraggled, smudged, yet so so adorable...whom I carried everywhere...from the children's park to the vacation in Puri...we were as inseparable as two faces of a quarter.
As a kindergarten student, I was determined to be a lorry driver when I grew up...I was fascinated by those who drove heavy load interstate vehicles that I encountered on the Grand Trunk Road every morning on the way to school that was about 20 kms away from home.
I never dreamt of meeting the 1996 Indian Cricket World Cup Team at such close quarters...or that a perennial two-left footer like me would dance in the opening ceremony of the same...or for that matter reach up only to Sushmita Sen's navel when we did get a chance to perceive her three days before the final dress rehearsal.
I always thought that boys were dense and that it was a waste of time, energy and emotional coefficient to fall for one...something that only frivolous girls who had nothing better to do indulged themselves in. Never in my wildest delusions did I dream of dating someone in high school who was more into music than math, keyboards than calculus and legal trivia than literature. Even when I did, for once it didn't strike me that I was actually falling for him, literally head over heels. And when that happened I thought we'd never lose each other. But we did.
I thought I'd never be able to fall in love again, and be happy. Yet I did. Or for instance, share my deepest dreams and darkest secrets with someone. Or feel the rush of adrenaline one experiences when you race a bike in the rain, arms flailed...every pore in my skin lapping up the wondrous magical sensation....till I thought I'd reached seventh heaven!
As a pre-teenager, I never believed I'd learn to drive a scooter...rope climb in the mangrove forests of Bhitarkanika...jump over the C gate...play cards till four in the morn...survive on black tea through the nights before the Jan tests...start smoking under utter dejection...and then give it up as easily as I had started it...forgive someone who had hurt me so bad that I'd wanted to kill myself as a ten year old...
While in school, I thought that I'd never survive without my pals...people who I'd come close to over a decade...the land of red bricks was so endearing that I soon forgot all that...leaving college was and still is a numb ache somewhere deep down...and now that I'm in a totally different place...
Donno. Guess, change is the only constant.
As a kindergarten student, I was determined to be a lorry driver when I grew up...I was fascinated by those who drove heavy load interstate vehicles that I encountered on the Grand Trunk Road every morning on the way to school that was about 20 kms away from home.
I never dreamt of meeting the 1996 Indian Cricket World Cup Team at such close quarters...or that a perennial two-left footer like me would dance in the opening ceremony of the same...or for that matter reach up only to Sushmita Sen's navel when we did get a chance to perceive her three days before the final dress rehearsal.
I always thought that boys were dense and that it was a waste of time, energy and emotional coefficient to fall for one...something that only frivolous girls who had nothing better to do indulged themselves in. Never in my wildest delusions did I dream of dating someone in high school who was more into music than math, keyboards than calculus and legal trivia than literature. Even when I did, for once it didn't strike me that I was actually falling for him, literally head over heels. And when that happened I thought we'd never lose each other. But we did.
I thought I'd never be able to fall in love again, and be happy. Yet I did. Or for instance, share my deepest dreams and darkest secrets with someone. Or feel the rush of adrenaline one experiences when you race a bike in the rain, arms flailed...every pore in my skin lapping up the wondrous magical sensation....till I thought I'd reached seventh heaven!
As a pre-teenager, I never believed I'd learn to drive a scooter...rope climb in the mangrove forests of Bhitarkanika...jump over the C gate...play cards till four in the morn...survive on black tea through the nights before the Jan tests...start smoking under utter dejection...and then give it up as easily as I had started it...forgive someone who had hurt me so bad that I'd wanted to kill myself as a ten year old...
While in school, I thought that I'd never survive without my pals...people who I'd come close to over a decade...the land of red bricks was so endearing that I soon forgot all that...leaving college was and still is a numb ache somewhere deep down...and now that I'm in a totally different place...
Donno. Guess, change is the only constant.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Gray...
Gray. Melancholy. Menacing. That was the look the morning sky adorned on a Saturday morning, that was meant to be like any other weekend morn...except that it wasn't any other week...she woke up with a start, realizing that she was off schedule by at least a quarter of an hour...only to cuddle back into the warmth of her early morning dreams...after all, she was going home after nine long months..and her flight to Kolkata was less than 100 hours away...life was back on track, what with the anandamide coefficient in her system still high after previous night's crazy chocolate frenzy. About a dozen minutes later...she re-woke up. By then, the firmament was a shade of pale yellow and the mellow September sun streamed in through the diaphanous curtains by her book-shelf. She smiled to herself, stretched and humming a medley to herself, went to freshen up. Someone at the back of her head kept whispering to her, warning her that too much smiling could be injurious, sooner or later, she would be crying. She ignored and went on with life...
She shouldn't have ignored the voices in her head...well, at least, not all of them! First it was the pump that stopped working, as a result of which she had to abort the experiment that had taken more than a week till then to plan, program and execute (alas, partially). Dejection...depression...utter irritation. That was what her state of mind turned to. It was still acceptable, and after a long chat, a few tears and an omlette (happy food), she was feeling a bit more resolute and definitely happier. Time passed on...the sinking feeling had just gotten to subside when she had another bout of it. This time it was even more massive, even more abstruse to the face of logic and the once patched-up soul shattered into a hundred odd pieces thrown apart by anger, frustration and self-loathing. How else would it feel when someone she had reckoned to be a close pal not only went against her, but in one of the most publicly deprecating ways possible? Sacrilegious, that's what it was.
Why is it that she trusted people so? Cared for them to an extent when they took it as a liberty to encroach upon her private space, that petite corner that was only hers'? What sort of blasphemous audacity did some people have to make her feel so minuscule, so lost and so drowned in self-abhorrence? Or perhaps, for a change, the fault lay deep within her. At some private alcove somewhere deep down, she knew that there must have been something that instigated such profane reactions. Why her? She let the tears fall, they had a healing effect, and soon she was too tired to care...or even think! A few more showdowns...she wanted to be over it...for once and for all...life wasn't a bed of roses, but then again it wasn't meant to be an altar of thorns either! She had survived worse scenarios, and emerged triumphant. Hurt, yes, but healed. If she was a survivor, she would do it. Yet again.
She shouldn't have ignored the voices in her head...well, at least, not all of them! First it was the pump that stopped working, as a result of which she had to abort the experiment that had taken more than a week till then to plan, program and execute (alas, partially). Dejection...depression...utter irritation. That was what her state of mind turned to. It was still acceptable, and after a long chat, a few tears and an omlette (happy food), she was feeling a bit more resolute and definitely happier. Time passed on...the sinking feeling had just gotten to subside when she had another bout of it. This time it was even more massive, even more abstruse to the face of logic and the once patched-up soul shattered into a hundred odd pieces thrown apart by anger, frustration and self-loathing. How else would it feel when someone she had reckoned to be a close pal not only went against her, but in one of the most publicly deprecating ways possible? Sacrilegious, that's what it was.
Why is it that she trusted people so? Cared for them to an extent when they took it as a liberty to encroach upon her private space, that petite corner that was only hers'? What sort of blasphemous audacity did some people have to make her feel so minuscule, so lost and so drowned in self-abhorrence? Or perhaps, for a change, the fault lay deep within her. At some private alcove somewhere deep down, she knew that there must have been something that instigated such profane reactions. Why her? She let the tears fall, they had a healing effect, and soon she was too tired to care...or even think! A few more showdowns...she wanted to be over it...for once and for all...life wasn't a bed of roses, but then again it wasn't meant to be an altar of thorns either! She had survived worse scenarios, and emerged triumphant. Hurt, yes, but healed. If she was a survivor, she would do it. Yet again.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Shit happens...
It's one of those phases when everything seems to go wrong. Every God damn thing. Its not about getting off bed on the wrong side (there is but one side, the other edge is locked with the wall)...its not a black cat crossing the alley on a dark winter night...or a lone song-bird cooing on the clothes line...It just happens. When you least expect it. When you can least handle it.
She woke up to find her cell switched off...the battery needed to be re-charged, but then there was some problem with the charger connection...next she stepped out into the courtyard, only to find that it had rained the previous night and the once semi-dry clothes were now fully drenched (they resembled the bedraggled crow perched on the telephone pole on a cold wintry morning)...great! nothing decent to wear, she grumbled to herself, contemplating which of her least favorite kurtas she would don as she headed to the loo...God, she needed a splash of fresh water on her face, and wipe off the previous night's sallow after-taste....she opened the tap...no water...What the hell, it was just 7 am...how could have the tank run dry so early...anyways, sometimes...shit happens...she ran helter-skelter and finally found a ground floor bathroom at the other corner of the hostel which had some water feebly dripping from the tap...somehow, she managed to take a half-bath and head to the lab...
The breakfast table was adorned by her friend, U, looking as Mr. Grumpy as usual...with a sorry piece of semi-toasted bread in his hand...poor guy, he usually steered clear off the southern delicacies and to find a weird cousin of the ubiquitous idli as the only food besides bread/tea wasn't a very happy option...he took it out on her, by pretending to be blase..when that didn't fetch any reaction, he started complaining about how late she always got in the morning...she tried rationalising, and when that didn't work, lost her cool...shouted back at him...and then they decided to not have lunch together...he in his characteristic melodramatic way, she in her usual detached manner...shit happens...once again..
Once she stepped into the lab, she thought things would get rosier....after all she had got a much-anticipated slot on the machine...all that was now there between a data collection and elation was mounting the crystal...V helped, so did the other V, but the precious little mm-sized thing flew out of focus from under the microscope...anyways, it had been some five hours since the day had started, and by then she had habituated herself to her poor fate for the day...somehow, another kutti piece (good things come in small packages) was captured...and the experiment began...hours passed...the progress wasn't satisfactory, but not too bad as well...and then she realized that in the midst of all these, she had forgotten to call him...and when she finally did, two hours off the mark, she had to have a conversation with his answering machine...the experiment was nearing completion by now...the first phase of it anyway...and then it happened...the capillary (now ultra-brittle at 90K)....broke and the last eight hours' work was wasted in a fraction of a milli-second...shit happens yet again..
Night fell. She felt kind of lost, sort of lazily half-awake...it was an hour past the mock seminar...things were totally out of her control. And then, when she felt that the day, now about to get over, had been more than enough....and was hoping for a rosier setting for the days to come...shit happened..yet again....the Carpenters lyrics strummed at the back of her head.."We are lost inside this lonely game we play....we are lost in this masquerade"...
She woke up to find her cell switched off...the battery needed to be re-charged, but then there was some problem with the charger connection...next she stepped out into the courtyard, only to find that it had rained the previous night and the once semi-dry clothes were now fully drenched (they resembled the bedraggled crow perched on the telephone pole on a cold wintry morning)...great! nothing decent to wear, she grumbled to herself, contemplating which of her least favorite kurtas she would don as she headed to the loo...God, she needed a splash of fresh water on her face, and wipe off the previous night's sallow after-taste....she opened the tap...no water...What the hell, it was just 7 am...how could have the tank run dry so early...anyways, sometimes...shit happens...she ran helter-skelter and finally found a ground floor bathroom at the other corner of the hostel which had some water feebly dripping from the tap...somehow, she managed to take a half-bath and head to the lab...
The breakfast table was adorned by her friend, U, looking as Mr. Grumpy as usual...with a sorry piece of semi-toasted bread in his hand...poor guy, he usually steered clear off the southern delicacies and to find a weird cousin of the ubiquitous idli as the only food besides bread/tea wasn't a very happy option...he took it out on her, by pretending to be blase..when that didn't fetch any reaction, he started complaining about how late she always got in the morning...she tried rationalising, and when that didn't work, lost her cool...shouted back at him...and then they decided to not have lunch together...he in his characteristic melodramatic way, she in her usual detached manner...shit happens...once again..
Once she stepped into the lab, she thought things would get rosier....after all she had got a much-anticipated slot on the machine...all that was now there between a data collection and elation was mounting the crystal...V helped, so did the other V, but the precious little mm-sized thing flew out of focus from under the microscope...anyways, it had been some five hours since the day had started, and by then she had habituated herself to her poor fate for the day...somehow, another kutti piece (good things come in small packages) was captured...and the experiment began...hours passed...the progress wasn't satisfactory, but not too bad as well...and then she realized that in the midst of all these, she had forgotten to call him...and when she finally did, two hours off the mark, she had to have a conversation with his answering machine...the experiment was nearing completion by now...the first phase of it anyway...and then it happened...the capillary (now ultra-brittle at 90K)....broke and the last eight hours' work was wasted in a fraction of a milli-second...shit happens yet again..
Night fell. She felt kind of lost, sort of lazily half-awake...it was an hour past the mock seminar...things were totally out of her control. And then, when she felt that the day, now about to get over, had been more than enough....and was hoping for a rosier setting for the days to come...shit happened..yet again....the Carpenters lyrics strummed at the back of her head.."We are lost inside this lonely game we play....we are lost in this masquerade"...
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Twin Freshers'
"As the newbies embark on their peregrination into the realms of science..."
The last weekend stood out from the array of mundane September days with its never-ending vapid spells of late monsoon drizzles, clothes-that-never-seem-to-dry syndrome and oh-i-wish-i-got-some-work-done with its sheer vivacity and invigorating spirit. The two freshers' welcomes lined back to back were like a whiff of fresh air after the long, summer days when life itself replays back in insipid slow motion. For once the environment of plenary seminars, boring lectures, endless worries gave way to a positive, bohemian carnival...
Integration'08 was a melting pot of all the four streams...when phy, chem, bio and math come together to showcase their creative talents and through a mutual rendezvous the green-horns get to know the veterans and vice versa...the high point, to this die-hard epicurean was of course the food...which was surprisingly different yet a treat for the taste buds...the short skits were much better than previous years...."Bushwa"...."Atomic # 36-24-36"..."Physics students jumping off the Raman building roof top to reinstate the laws of gravitation that had run awry after watching Rajnikanth and Mithun movies back to back"..."We didn't start the fire"...a cute rendition of a "Pappu" and "Betaal" medley all added spice to the lackluster lives we lead...The DJ night of course was like previous years', one of the few moments when you let your hair down...literally.. ;)...and jive to the beats of what little non-scientific fun life has left for you...it's always a pleasure to watch a certain person, (shall we restrict ourselves to calling him B?), go berserk...but with the laser lights on...things resembled a mad frenzy...everybody shook a leg, even perennially "two-left-footed" me... :)...and then of course, the two "S's" also flailed their arms up high..
Saturday I was a senior, in fact a ripe third year who sat back and enjoyed the freshers getting "positively interacted with" ...the tables turned on Sunday..once again I was a fresher, being inducted into SSCU....and the incomplete first line refers to what they made me scribble on the blackboard 15 seconds in to confessing that writing/blogging were few of my fav pastimes... :)...it was an evening of food a la vikings'...songs and dances...chocolate pastries that nearly melted in your hands (and you had to gobble it up without the aid of spoons) the Fish Pond was extensive and well made..a few laughs..moments of shyness...some of exuberance...at the end of the day, with a bohemian birthday hat on my head, and a photo frame in hand (into which I tucked away the 18th Sept memoirs)..I felt younger, and for once, happier...
With a song in my heart..and a twisted smile on my lips....I stepped into yet another week..
The last weekend stood out from the array of mundane September days with its never-ending vapid spells of late monsoon drizzles, clothes-that-never-seem-to-dry syndrome and oh-i-wish-i-got-some-work-done with its sheer vivacity and invigorating spirit. The two freshers' welcomes lined back to back were like a whiff of fresh air after the long, summer days when life itself replays back in insipid slow motion. For once the environment of plenary seminars, boring lectures, endless worries gave way to a positive, bohemian carnival...
Integration'08 was a melting pot of all the four streams...when phy, chem, bio and math come together to showcase their creative talents and through a mutual rendezvous the green-horns get to know the veterans and vice versa...the high point, to this die-hard epicurean was of course the food...which was surprisingly different yet a treat for the taste buds...the short skits were much better than previous years...."Bushwa"...."Atomic # 36-24-36"..."Physics students jumping off the Raman building roof top to reinstate the laws of gravitation that had run awry after watching Rajnikanth and Mithun movies back to back"..."We didn't start the fire"...a cute rendition of a "Pappu" and "Betaal" medley all added spice to the lackluster lives we lead...The DJ night of course was like previous years', one of the few moments when you let your hair down...literally.. ;)...and jive to the beats of what little non-scientific fun life has left for you...it's always a pleasure to watch a certain person, (shall we restrict ourselves to calling him B?), go berserk...but with the laser lights on...things resembled a mad frenzy...everybody shook a leg, even perennially "two-left-footed" me... :)...and then of course, the two "S's" also flailed their arms up high..
Saturday I was a senior, in fact a ripe third year who sat back and enjoyed the freshers getting "positively interacted with" ...the tables turned on Sunday..once again I was a fresher, being inducted into SSCU....and the incomplete first line refers to what they made me scribble on the blackboard 15 seconds in to confessing that writing/blogging were few of my fav pastimes... :)...it was an evening of food a la vikings'...songs and dances...chocolate pastries that nearly melted in your hands (and you had to gobble it up without the aid of spoons) the Fish Pond was extensive and well made..a few laughs..moments of shyness...some of exuberance...at the end of the day, with a bohemian birthday hat on my head, and a photo frame in hand (into which I tucked away the 18th Sept memoirs)..I felt younger, and for once, happier...
With a song in my heart..and a twisted smile on my lips....I stepped into yet another week..
Monday, August 25, 2008
E-108 r baranday
23 r bhorta hoe i gelo..ki bol??
baire konkone batash...
kuashar alo,
taar i moddhe jana mukh r ajana muhurto gulo bheshe ashey....
Na baba!!!
dilli'r sheeth bole kotha - 'thanda lege jabey'
Carbide
Feathers...
The valley to the right was soaked in clouds. The helpless pigeon watched their motion with a strong urge to control it from his dingy hole, as that would probably give him a feel that he hadn't lost it all. Last year, after his home was destroyed by a sudden storm, he gazed at the red bricks looking to carve out a niche for himself. After a year long hard work, the pigeon was proud of itself to have four walls of its own. Long before he actually realized, one of the walls was too weak to stand the test of time and he was rendered homeless again. The flight to this hilly abode was more of an escape. Here too, the clouds were ready for a spoilsport. The clouds meandered through the valley to coalesce in between the slopes. He just wished that their latent tears be shed to relieve the heaviness within.
A lady walked up to the hole. He turned skeptical as he was nowadays very unsure about what to expect out of life. the lady could have simply taken no notice of the pigeon but she took extra care to be just a companion - nothing beyond on either side. She probable never knew how much of the above he ever needed!! This would certainly be one of his most cherished memories. The ominous nimbus gave way to cottony cirrus, the moon lent a silvery glow to the slopes and the discordant music struck happy notes. The pigeon was ready for a mid air frolic. Gabul went to bed.
Carbide
Monday, August 11, 2008
Copycats :P
It's something all of us have noticed at some moment or the other, and most of us have commented on..boys in their late teens sporting a Dhoni hairstyle, or girls going gaga over long coats attempting to double up as Naina in KHNH...people flocking to the same destinations for their hard-earned holidays, most boys choosing blue as their favorite color..so on and so forth...
Well, the other day I was stuck by a curious incident that might be treated as an analogue to the above cases..but the time, place and moment seemed so far removed from the ones stated previously..that it took me a while to develop the connection..It was in the middle of a computer aided English proficiency test (which am not going to name here, but I'm sure most readers can correctly guess!). There was this part of the test that had a speaking section wherein we had to respond to the question by talking into a microphone. About an odd score of us were seated in the same room, and it was soon obvious that it was a real hassle trying to listen to our own voices above the din of our neighbor's. Nevertheless, we tried to resolve the quandary in the most obvious way, namely, by increasing the volume of our voices. Soon, everyone in the room was replicating it and before long, a virtual cacophony ensued! :)
So much for herd mentality...
So much for herd mentality...
Friday, July 25, 2008
Through the window pane..
8:45 am:
Mellow sun rays filtering through the branches of the trees across the SSCU backyard...the sky a pale azure, still holding remnants of the early morning's rain..a light drizzle now and then...the sweeper carries on with his task..unaware of the mynah perched on the peepul tree craning its' neck to have a better look at the leaves blowing up in the dust storm generated by the sweeper's broom..raindrops on green shoots...the branches sway to the cool zephyr...people slowly inching into the department..in fours and threes...some lone pairs as well...umbrellas and raincoats form a bizzare pied array, strewn across the main foyer...a typical rainy morning in IISc..
11:45 am:
The rainy morning has given way to a sunny late-morn..the sun is high up in the sky..beads of perspiration reminds one of the sultry nature of late July mornings as the department is abuzz with activity..people are running up and down the staircase...the office staff have long come in...the Prof. with the strident laugh echoes in the first floor corridor...his colleagues join him on some joke..the branches of the peepul hold still...frozen in a single shot...the mynah is pecking onto some seeds gathered below the tree...
1:45 pm:
News of the blasts has reached some...cell phones are suddenly abuzz in a jiffy...in a desperate attempt to contact near and dear ones before the networks are jammed...the tension and urgency in peoples' voices has reached a crescendo...the verbal scapegoating has started...sudenly, everybody is an overnight expert on politics, terrorism, the recent elections, murky games propagandists play in the name of religion, the dismal state of security in the city...et cetera, et cetera...you name it....it was there in some discussion or the other...in internet chatrooms...over cups of lemon teas in the Tea Board....across the corridor...outside the labs...ubiquitously, vehemently...suddenly, it starts pouring..cats and dogs...the trees swaying to the mad downpour...
Meanwhile, the mynah had left its' lair
11:45 am:
The rainy morning has given way to a sunny late-morn..the sun is high up in the sky..beads of perspiration reminds one of the sultry nature of late July mornings as the department is abuzz with activity..people are running up and down the staircase...the office staff have long come in...the Prof. with the strident laugh echoes in the first floor corridor...his colleagues join him on some joke..the branches of the peepul hold still...frozen in a single shot...the mynah is pecking onto some seeds gathered below the tree...
1:45 pm:
News of the blasts has reached some...cell phones are suddenly abuzz in a jiffy...in a desperate attempt to contact near and dear ones before the networks are jammed...the tension and urgency in peoples' voices has reached a crescendo...the verbal scapegoating has started...sudenly, everybody is an overnight expert on politics, terrorism, the recent elections, murky games propagandists play in the name of religion, the dismal state of security in the city...et cetera, et cetera...you name it....it was there in some discussion or the other...in internet chatrooms...over cups of lemon teas in the Tea Board....across the corridor...outside the labs...ubiquitously, vehemently...suddenly, it starts pouring..cats and dogs...the trees swaying to the mad downpour...
Meanwhile, the mynah had left its' lair
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The FIRST steps on this PAthwaY
It's 0420 in the morning here and I am tucked away in this room a couple of minutes from the East River and a couple of miles from the Hudson in midtown Manhattan as a trademark Indian Ocean strums across a DELL speaker. I have just planned to wind up my first day's work as a paid employee.
At noon yesterday, our program coordinator handed us our first month's hard earned salary. At this point, memories start tumbling down as I begin to ask what have I done differently over the last few days that a foreign country thinks that it is worthwhile to pay me a couple of thousand bucks.
It makes me wonder is it all about the last month or about all those years that I have spent in search of a dream. Its been 17 long years - actually a lifetime of childhood that I have come through to this stage today. Memories from early childhood, the formative years at Don Bosco, the charismatic time in a school managed by maniacs, the golden years at St. Stephen's and a tumultuous time at a Premier Institute of Technology (The PIT post is coming soon on this blog...) - my inner self has always been this perennial bystander watching the strokes of time on its more exuberant counterpart. I reminisce all those things which string together a significant garland of individually insignificant events, rather anachronistically...
At noon yesterday, our program coordinator handed us our first month's hard earned salary. At this point, memories start tumbling down as I begin to ask what have I done differently over the last few days that a foreign country thinks that it is worthwhile to pay me a couple of thousand bucks.
It makes me wonder is it all about the last month or about all those years that I have spent in search of a dream. Its been 17 long years - actually a lifetime of childhood that I have come through to this stage today. Memories from early childhood, the formative years at Don Bosco, the charismatic time in a school managed by maniacs, the golden years at St. Stephen's and a tumultuous time at a Premier Institute of Technology (The PIT post is coming soon on this blog...) - my inner self has always been this perennial bystander watching the strokes of time on its more exuberant counterpart. I reminisce all those things which string together a significant garland of individually insignificant events, rather anachronistically...
The way I jumped out of my kindergarten class window on my first day in school...how I used to dehydrate myself in front of school every morning so as to extend my stay with my father...how I fell into the drain after my admission test at Don Bosco...how I couldnt recognize a bat (which my principal Fr. T. Albert expected to be quite familiar with since my father was working on them) in an encyclopedia during my interview and blamed it on the artist...how I fell off as a pillion from my dad's cycle close to the Geography department of our University Campus...the four stumps of my cricket set which had no bails...those extended hours of cricket in the Sukladi lawns...my first rendezvous with my class teacher who I still remember clad in a Green saree helped me take the first steps into this academic world...how I fell off the stairs on my first day at DonBosco..the perforated false ceiling in our Assembly Hall...the blue colored Bus Pass which had a prayer tagged along...coming home to a Didibhai, a Mamma and later in the evening Babai came home to a new home of surprises...how I adored my first silver colored ink pen in Class 4..i used chelpark ink and used to look forward to refill time so eagerly...how Payel and I diluted didibhai's ink thinking that she wud have more to write with during her ICSE exam and no worries in case her ink finished...(God knows how I became a chemist!!) ... then a reorientation of ambience..an apartment in the heart of the city...my bus no. in school changed..we now had a cable connection to our TV...i began interacting with a different friend circle...Siliguri used to be much quieter then...once in a while on a rainy night one could smell the nearby forests...how Baba and I walked to the bus stop every morning till Class 10...so many things he ended up teaching me just by his way of showing things...how we adored the service man who used to diligently day after day go into the drains of our neighborhood and keep things clean...how my mama lost an umbrella at my school bus stand...my first Durga puja on a bike with didibhai..how the silencer heat got better off my skin...having a physics teacher who taught me there could be multiple approaches to a problem...winning all the city quizzes..what a combo we had..Chandan, Munsi and me...even getting a chance to represent the school at the national level and winning the runners up trophy...I remember wondering way back from the triumph..would there be a reception for us at the station??would our schoolmates come and hug us??or would there be some people from the city too...I was naive after all...though that win did make us slightly famous on the city circuits...all those bike trips into the hills and forests...especially the one to Baikunthapur...it was truly heaven redefined...how I left Siliguri for ever to two waving hands on a night laden platform...how I watched the train switch tracks taking me to a new direction...to a distant dreamland...my Father was thankfully beside me...how my first days were in a shabby Delhi PG...then a fresh lease of life in the land of red bricks..so much happening around that the only place I could find resort in was at the mirror..and when I looked into myself, I found it to be so void that I shuddered at its echo...life moves on..a fantastic quartet giving way to a buffer to four people to a lady through a hill called Musoorie...How Dr Eswaran dismissed me after the qualifying interview...I was awed at the celerity of decision making at Stephen's...it was only later I realized that he had dismissed into the open from the confines of XB...three years of groping for the right fit...two more years in search..in a rouge land...the citadel of red...the alleys of Chandni Chowk providing the perfect escapade to a tired body...coming to know a person who taught me that the importance of the syllable 'dha' - the one that holds u..conceptualizing something that is intangible as its too soft to be true...listening to some guitar strums on a moonlit night at Andrews court when the load was shedding itself...awing at how a set of non bonded interactions can be so fascinating that it brings a new mother son duo home....taking the leap across the oceans..I wonder often had all this happened, had someone not taken the same steps 4 decades back..probably not!! Thats why I adore you Babai...
As far as the last few days go...I have been only doing what my lifetime has taught me so far..being passionate though my friend VB has her words of caution against it (I know I can only be grateful to her for it)..being dilligent as the serviceman teaches me time and again..being myself as I know thats what I always wanted to be..and having the faith to be that...and on a more literal note, trying to know the way some molecules behave in order to understand the orchestrations of life.
The irony of the First Pay being..is it just worth these last few days or all these years that one leaves behind??And then the next obvious question is - was it worth it? When you look forward into the time that you spent, one sees all these little bubbles emerging..those dreams that were a part of my reality then can be truly reality now...one strives to achieve them..And at this point when the trance recedes, I remember I had promised to buy a saree to my first class teacher with my first salary...on the lookout for a store..I guess back home will always be a better option.
Carbide
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Cooper Invention
It's been something that has been at the back of my mind for quite some time now...was only waiting to put fingers on the keyboard...call it lassitude, or may be my inherent lackadaisical attitude...procrastination kept getting the better of me..
My cell phone balance has remained steady at a range of 70 to 90 for nearly a month now...considering that I have the notorious label of blowing up nearly a 1000 bucks per month on phone bills, this seems almost an impossibility, but then, its true...
It all started on 2nd Jan, 2004 when I bought my first (and so far, only) cell phone from a quaint little Nokia outlet in South Delhi..at that time in the chilly winter of 2004, I was getting used to a number of things besides the newly acquired mobile...my first Delhi winter for one, the first vacation away from home and a wonderful college life where everyday was a revealation in itself..
To start off with, my phone bill was paltry, the balance refusing to dwindle from its three digit figure for a considerable period of time...so much so, that my hostel mates sometimes used my phone to make STD calls when the validity period was coming to a close...so that the excess balance may not be wasted...even after calling home once a week for a long chat, and smsing friends it remained status quo...and I continued to be baffled by how in the world folks who complained that there was never ever enough balance on the phone, managed to say so...
Things changed in the Autumn of 2005...when I blew up all the accumulated phone balance in the tune of a few thousands (two or three) in two months...one can guess what it was that was finally gnawing away at my balance (pun intended)...anyways, even installing special schemes like "Two to Talk" couldn't salvage the situation.. :)... things reached an acme for the worse when I moved to Bangalore and he stayed in Delhi...and that's the way it has been for the past two years...constantly drooping bills...parents complaining of a dangerous addiction...balance in the phone causing bank balance going kaput for someone.. :)...those days I worried about it, and now that he's in NY and doesn't yet have a number where I can call...I almost miss those "no money-have to fill in balance" days..
So long...some day soon there'll be a post on how to tackle International call rates and the growing frustation thereof...after all, it wouldn't be long before the Social security number comes...till then...
My cell phone balance has remained steady at a range of 70 to 90 for nearly a month now...considering that I have the notorious label of blowing up nearly a 1000 bucks per month on phone bills, this seems almost an impossibility, but then, its true...
It all started on 2nd Jan, 2004 when I bought my first (and so far, only) cell phone from a quaint little Nokia outlet in South Delhi..at that time in the chilly winter of 2004, I was getting used to a number of things besides the newly acquired mobile...my first Delhi winter for one, the first vacation away from home and a wonderful college life where everyday was a revealation in itself..
To start off with, my phone bill was paltry, the balance refusing to dwindle from its three digit figure for a considerable period of time...so much so, that my hostel mates sometimes used my phone to make STD calls when the validity period was coming to a close...so that the excess balance may not be wasted...even after calling home once a week for a long chat, and smsing friends it remained status quo...and I continued to be baffled by how in the world folks who complained that there was never ever enough balance on the phone, managed to say so...
Things changed in the Autumn of 2005...when I blew up all the accumulated phone balance in the tune of a few thousands (two or three) in two months...one can guess what it was that was finally gnawing away at my balance (pun intended)...anyways, even installing special schemes like "Two to Talk" couldn't salvage the situation.. :)... things reached an acme for the worse when I moved to Bangalore and he stayed in Delhi...and that's the way it has been for the past two years...constantly drooping bills...parents complaining of a dangerous addiction...balance in the phone causing bank balance going kaput for someone.. :)...those days I worried about it, and now that he's in NY and doesn't yet have a number where I can call...I almost miss those "no money-have to fill in balance" days..
So long...some day soon there'll be a post on how to tackle International call rates and the growing frustation thereof...after all, it wouldn't be long before the Social security number comes...till then...
Sunday, July 13, 2008
A small post!!
I was in the middle of my end semester exams when the good news came. A nephew had been born. It was a feeling which I guess cant be described in words penned or blogged down. Yet some arbit chitchat of the mental kind is what I intend to share. My mother was stationed right beside my sister and was my initial source of live reporting from the venue.
As happens with all grandmas, who think that they have the smartest grandson...the feelings here too was the same. The focus entirely shifts towards the interest earned as the principal amounts are in due course forgotten for the time being. Things like he's almost talking, has a strong neck, is very well behaved are commonly employed interjectives!!
When I met this 17 day old chap, he was resting on my sister's shoulders..as his rightful place. It was indeed fun to see such a small human being, and one cant help but marvel at the beauty of creation. He was small but the hair on his head exceeded by far that of my peers like Niladri & Rajkumar. His eyes and big head brought back fond memories of a sister that I had only seen in photographs as I was unfortunately 9 years away when she was born. He has already shown a penchant for music, bright colors and has almost fallen in love with the ceiling fan...gazes in awe and admiration for hours on end that he is awake.
New born babies are like newly bought computers waiting for their dose of vaccinations to prevent them from virus attacks, only live ones in their case. So this piece of God's creation is currently in his first phaseof rendezvous with the human counterparts. Let this be a small post...just about as big as the one from upstairs!!
Carbide
As happens with all grandmas, who think that they have the smartest grandson...the feelings here too was the same. The focus entirely shifts towards the interest earned as the principal amounts are in due course forgotten for the time being. Things like he's almost talking, has a strong neck, is very well behaved are commonly employed interjectives!!
When I met this 17 day old chap, he was resting on my sister's shoulders..as his rightful place. It was indeed fun to see such a small human being, and one cant help but marvel at the beauty of creation. He was small but the hair on his head exceeded by far that of my peers like Niladri & Rajkumar. His eyes and big head brought back fond memories of a sister that I had only seen in photographs as I was unfortunately 9 years away when she was born. He has already shown a penchant for music, bright colors and has almost fallen in love with the ceiling fan...gazes in awe and admiration for hours on end that he is awake.
New born babies are like newly bought computers waiting for their dose of vaccinations to prevent them from virus attacks, only live ones in their case. So this piece of God's creation is currently in his first phaseof rendezvous with the human counterparts. Let this be a small post...just about as big as the one from upstairs!!
Carbide
Thursday, July 10, 2008
86th...
Last sunday, my second one in this land took me to a place where a resident New Yorker is supposed to be baptized. After a sprawling morning in the warmth of the Central Park...it was very warm indeed, we trudged our way to the 86th street subway. At this point let me clarify, we have two types of subways here - one that you can find at almost every corner serving footlongs and six inches (America's love for fast food) and the second one which you more often here whoosh past below the 'Made in India' manhole covers. I am talking about the second one.
It took us to the Times Square station at 42nd street - the pip of the Big apple. Its glitzy to the least, gives one a taste of quintessential America. A sip at Starbucks and a movie opposite Regal theatres (that's the name I remember as that brought back fond memories of a white broken building in a distant land that was quite close till yestermonth), I was geared up to visit the 86th...floor. The corner of 34th street and fifth avenue houses the 86th floor of New York City. It's the observatory of the Empire State Building. One of the world's most referred, photographed, filmed and hence famous skyscraper. It overlooks most of the Manhattan Borough with extensive glimpses onto the other boroughs, giving a brief idea about their geographical sizes. The Empire State bears a silent domination over the whole city. In spite of the facts stated above, the feeling that drives a tourist to the 86th is a desire to be on top of the world. One can witness the sprawling Central park and the serene Hudson & East making way to the Atlantic. The miniscule yellow cabs and black limos, Times Square lighting up the NYC sky, the quite Madison gardens, The Rockefeller and Cornell universities...but there were three sights that made me wonder; was Empire State destined to be on top of NYC if not the world!!
The first is a tiny building with its characteristic shape leading to its nomenclature as the Flatiron building. It is famous for housing the offices of fictional superheroes - Batman & Superman, but its long forgotten claim to fame was as the world's first skyscraper. It was built at a time when a twenty storey building was commendable by the contemporary construction standards in the early twentieth century. Three decades later in 193os Empire State set out to conquer. The whole process of building it up was a competition with the Chrysler building which had already started to be built. It was JJ Raksob, who had the last laugh as it not only stood taller than the Chrysler on completion but for the next 41 years as the tallest building in NYC.
The North tower of the WTC inched to a higher glory in the 70s. But as all of us now know, the future that it had in store; one is but obviated to devote a thought to the playings of fate. Was the Empire State destined to be forever crowned as the top of NYC or as a mere observatory for these other three, for the map sold for tourists talks only about what all one can see from the 86th except for the Empire state herself??
The first is a tiny building with its characteristic shape leading to its nomenclature as the Flatiron building. It is famous for housing the offices of fictional superheroes - Batman & Superman, but its long forgotten claim to fame was as the world's first skyscraper. It was built at a time when a twenty storey building was commendable by the contemporary construction standards in the early twentieth century. Three decades later in 193os Empire State set out to conquer. The whole process of building it up was a competition with the Chrysler building which had already started to be built. It was JJ Raksob, who had the last laugh as it not only stood taller than the Chrysler on completion but for the next 41 years as the tallest building in NYC.
The North tower of the WTC inched to a higher glory in the 70s. But as all of us now know, the future that it had in store; one is but obviated to devote a thought to the playings of fate. Was the Empire State destined to be forever crowned as the top of NYC or as a mere observatory for these other three, for the map sold for tourists talks only about what all one can see from the 86th except for the Empire state herself??
A piece of cloud that had wandered from across the Atlantic ran a chill and got me back to my senses. The Chrysler had just lit up...(top right)
Carbide
Friday, July 4, 2008
JETlag
Came to know about this hitherto unknown phenomena as a kid when I saw my ever active dad sleep through the day after returning from the other part of the globe. The lexicon blabbered that it had to with the circadian rhythm of the body trying to keep pace with the different diurnal cycle in different parts of the world. But since last week, I have realized that it is a phenomena that doesnt rest at the body alone...as they say, it's all in the MIND!!
The immigration department required me to put down details of teh things I was carrying with me - plants & plant products were an option; being the innocent truthful Indian whose honesty turns a degree higher once they leave their own country, I put down yes as my friend's at Delhi had fared me well with a beautiful bouquet. The officer asked me to show my plant products, I presented my bouquet..he rambled "Those are just a bunch of flowers, they aren't plant products!!"...I set off!
The yellow colored taxi reminded me of our burly ambassadors of Kolkata. My driver was an old gentleman of African origins, the music he was playing seemed akin to blues. On conversing he explained they were ballads, kinda mix of blues and jazz and produced in the golden era of 70s, now lost on the rocks!! I thought the taxi ride had me acquainted with the left hand drive in US and till I really drove a machine, I didnt have to bother about it. I was still lagging behind.
It appeared that every time I took a stair or a footpath, I was bumping into opposite traffic. And I hope that it was only my figments of imagination that jeered, An Indian again!! Truly jetlagged. I am still trying my best to get used to free right turns and not bump into one of these fast cars here as I am yet to be insured.
This jetlagged self was also slow in taking the names of people in the right stride. When my roommate was inquired of his name, he replied "I am No Man...". I didnt know what an American meant by it. Guessed it was a kinda joke being played on me, felt happy at the fact that I at least got it was a joke. Before I tried re-applying it on somebody else, I was lucky enough to come by the roll list; "No man" was spelt Naman and my jetlag just receded a bit.
The loo here is again a mystery to unravel in itself. There's a shower corner as they dont want the whole toilet to be watered. So I am trying out some weird combinations and I hope that this jetlag will soon be a feeling of the past.
The lab was the epitome of the venues where I knew that I was lagging in terms of the apparatus they went about using in wasteful wanton. Being in a wet chemistry laboratory actually gives one the opportunity of various explorations. To keep things short I would end with a couple of anecdotes. They dont use filter papers here, its all vacuum filters where the storage vial has one fitted on the mouth which is shown the dustbin after one use.
As apart of the work I am doing, I wanted to know how dark my sample was? Back home, a prized piece of quartz and later specialized plastic known as a cuvette was used for the purpose. It used to be the holy grail of every research scholar and breaking it would almost mean a premature termination of your PhD program. I remember carefully cleaning its sides and how careful I was in putting it back at the right place with the correct spatio temporal parameters. I was looking for one such prized piece of material when asked to find the darkness around. My unsuccessful search gave me a feeling that these might be just even as pricey here safely lockered away somewhere. To my amazement, a 10 X 10 box of them were lying besides the eppendorfs and were supposed to be used in the same way as the latter...to be shown the bin at the drop of a hat.
My jetlagged self showed the body the door which had just about adjusted to the diurnal schedule in this part of the world...
Carbide
The immigration department required me to put down details of teh things I was carrying with me - plants & plant products were an option; being the innocent truthful Indian whose honesty turns a degree higher once they leave their own country, I put down yes as my friend's at Delhi had fared me well with a beautiful bouquet. The officer asked me to show my plant products, I presented my bouquet..he rambled "Those are just a bunch of flowers, they aren't plant products!!"...I set off!
The yellow colored taxi reminded me of our burly ambassadors of Kolkata. My driver was an old gentleman of African origins, the music he was playing seemed akin to blues. On conversing he explained they were ballads, kinda mix of blues and jazz and produced in the golden era of 70s, now lost on the rocks!! I thought the taxi ride had me acquainted with the left hand drive in US and till I really drove a machine, I didnt have to bother about it. I was still lagging behind.
It appeared that every time I took a stair or a footpath, I was bumping into opposite traffic. And I hope that it was only my figments of imagination that jeered, An Indian again!! Truly jetlagged. I am still trying my best to get used to free right turns and not bump into one of these fast cars here as I am yet to be insured.
This jetlagged self was also slow in taking the names of people in the right stride. When my roommate was inquired of his name, he replied "I am No Man...". I didnt know what an American meant by it. Guessed it was a kinda joke being played on me, felt happy at the fact that I at least got it was a joke. Before I tried re-applying it on somebody else, I was lucky enough to come by the roll list; "No man" was spelt Naman and my jetlag just receded a bit.
The loo here is again a mystery to unravel in itself. There's a shower corner as they dont want the whole toilet to be watered. So I am trying out some weird combinations and I hope that this jetlag will soon be a feeling of the past.
The lab was the epitome of the venues where I knew that I was lagging in terms of the apparatus they went about using in wasteful wanton. Being in a wet chemistry laboratory actually gives one the opportunity of various explorations. To keep things short I would end with a couple of anecdotes. They dont use filter papers here, its all vacuum filters where the storage vial has one fitted on the mouth which is shown the dustbin after one use.
As apart of the work I am doing, I wanted to know how dark my sample was? Back home, a prized piece of quartz and later specialized plastic known as a cuvette was used for the purpose. It used to be the holy grail of every research scholar and breaking it would almost mean a premature termination of your PhD program. I remember carefully cleaning its sides and how careful I was in putting it back at the right place with the correct spatio temporal parameters. I was looking for one such prized piece of material when asked to find the darkness around. My unsuccessful search gave me a feeling that these might be just even as pricey here safely lockered away somewhere. To my amazement, a 10 X 10 box of them were lying besides the eppendorfs and were supposed to be used in the same way as the latter...to be shown the bin at the drop of a hat.
My jetlagged self showed the body the door which had just about adjusted to the diurnal schedule in this part of the world...
Carbide
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Valediction...
Had always wondered what it would have been like to bid adieu to a dear one traveling to another corner of the globe miles away...possibly this has been a resurgent theme in art and literature over the ages...all these years I had romanced this idea in nuances unknown to others...but before yesterday, I had no clue how potently painful it can get!
Memoirs come tumbling back...like a fusillade of stolen ideas...you distinctly revisit all those places you've been together..all the steps that you've taken side by side... the quaint stalls in Meena bazaar...the steps at the Jain temple..the road to Nirula's...the corridor outside the library...the sun-kissed lawns of Red Fort...OBH afternoons...the citadel of joy...romancing the magic called Delhi..
And then a pause...reel rewound...and again, a peregrination across time and space...rides on the ED-393..raindrops on eyelashes...Samarkand..dark temptations...the MBU rooftop...to Palm Court and back...5th June night chat on a walkway...jiving to the tunes of Bengaluru...
Perhaps we should have had a similar saga in the City of Joy hadn't it been for my aloofness in the Summer of 2005...God knows how much I'd give to go back to those days and paint it in a different hue...may be sometime in future, we shall have some moments to cherish and talk home about... :)
At the end of the day, however, one doesn't feel dissapointed. There's so much to thank for...from the guitar strums of the Indian Ocean..to Makaibari Cha with my favourite chamar...the subtle humor of C&V...to sharing a passion for crosswords..Science in general and Chemistry in particular...Feynman to Mark Tully...Clayderman to Ravi Shankar...Nalli ka Salan to Dark temptations...for all the photographs that we left unclicked...the letters unwritten...
You know what Pc? May be the journey has just begun...
Memoirs come tumbling back...like a fusillade of stolen ideas...you distinctly revisit all those places you've been together..all the steps that you've taken side by side... the quaint stalls in Meena bazaar...the steps at the Jain temple..the road to Nirula's...the corridor outside the library...the sun-kissed lawns of Red Fort...OBH afternoons...the citadel of joy...romancing the magic called Delhi..
And then a pause...reel rewound...and again, a peregrination across time and space...rides on the ED-393..raindrops on eyelashes...Samarkand..dark temptations...the MBU rooftop...to Palm Court and back...5th June night chat on a walkway...jiving to the tunes of Bengaluru...
Perhaps we should have had a similar saga in the City of Joy hadn't it been for my aloofness in the Summer of 2005...God knows how much I'd give to go back to those days and paint it in a different hue...may be sometime in future, we shall have some moments to cherish and talk home about... :)
At the end of the day, however, one doesn't feel dissapointed. There's so much to thank for...from the guitar strums of the Indian Ocean..to Makaibari Cha with my favourite chamar...the subtle humor of C&V...to sharing a passion for crosswords..Science in general and Chemistry in particular...Feynman to Mark Tully...Clayderman to Ravi Shankar...Nalli ka Salan to Dark temptations...for all the photographs that we left unclicked...the letters unwritten...
You know what Pc? May be the journey has just begun...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Nomenclature..
One of the primary things that hindered the process of creating the blog, was naming it. Someone was geeky enough to name it, well, "Geeky musings"...which the other person "vetoed" out..someone else wanted the word cogitations somewhere in the name, because he/she was absolutely infatuated with the word that week..one thing led to another, and then we got stuck with the question, "In search of a name..." :)
Ultimately, chemistry had the final word... and we agreed on "Verdigris"...why the name and more importantly, what it signifies to us, is something that may come up in a later post...
Till then, happy blogging! :)
Ultimately, chemistry had the final word... and we agreed on "Verdigris"...why the name and more importantly, what it signifies to us, is something that may come up in a later post...
Till then, happy blogging! :)
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