Reminiscences

... and the train stopped. The screeching brakes and the final sickening jolt had a decisive ring to it. As i stood at the door, I was taken back in time, a very small duration in the grand cosmic scheme of things, but a time that defined me, my character, and my very being.

I think of those clear eyes of mine, the unfettered dreams in them and the fearlessness that is born out of ignorance and inexperience. The beginning of a journey, and a rush of blood to the head, and I am onthe train, riding the wave, so to speak. The world seems all nice and rosy; after all I'm the wide eyed fresher, and on top of the world. And then I step in, those dreams go pop! and I'm faced with what seems like brutal reality... a seemingly harsh, biting, scorching surrounding, and the train starts; now I can't get off. I'm on the ride, for better or worse. I look around; there are other people; I look closer, and I see all kinds of faces; some are care-worn; others, care free; some are worried; some, frightened; and others hojpeful. There are those who boarded long ago, and are de to leave, and then there are those like me, who have just got on.

I am suddenly hesitant; gone is the confidence and the swagger, words hesitate to come to my lips, but my mind is bursting with a barrage of questions, and I wonder, " O god, whatever made me come here?" I make a few acquaintances and a frew friends, I have some guiding lamps, and I find some dead ends. The other travellers don't seem as scary as they were before, as I find my way through the labyrinthine byways of the train. And then, I realise it's time for the first stop, and as I bid my first guides adieu, I realise I feel a little sad, and just a bit lonely. I look at myself, and I realise that I have changed; I am no longer a greenhorn, but I still have a great deal to learn. And so it goes on, I learn the workings of the place , learn of the pitfalls, and the haystacks, of the goldmines and the landmines. As I ensconce myself in my seat, I look out, and realise I see the world with a slightly different perspective, for i know now there is no free lunch, I realise the value of things, like food and money, things which i once took for granted, and begin to respect them. I start adjusting myself, try to fit in, and then i realise that I am no more as pure as the driven snow. I find myself more pragmatic, and a little cynical.

Another station comes and goes, and suddenly, I am taught the meaning of responsibility, not like a toddler, but just by being thrown into the deep end. All along this I absolutely detest the experience, hating every moment, using every opportunity to either run away, or go below, or high above the trials and tribulations. But the train draws me back, inexorably, like iron to a magnet.

There is darkness. all around. I quail. Fear. Desperation. Panic. I'm in a tunnel, a tunnel of my own hopes and dreams and confusions.I grope in the darkness, fearing a total loss of direction and purpose. An then i see a light. At the end of the tunnel. I turn towards it. With hope. but I am cautious, so i prepare myself, hoping against hope that the light isn't actually a freight train coming my way. And then there is light, I feel ecstatic, but lonely, for I have lost my last guiding lights. I feel old now, and bent, but I am experienced, and I am the guide! the one who holds all the keys, the one in charge, and therefore, the one directly in the line of fire. I should hate it, as i have always done, but strangely the feeling is exhilarating and I am actually enjoying myself, not knowing whether I am awake or asleep, alive or dead, and frankly, not caring. All throughout, my only constant companions are my batch mates (and of course those eternal bovines), they exist, I exist, we coexist; that is all. But there is something more to this relationship, for we are bound together by fate. We live together, trying to understand each other, learning from every step and every misstep. It is with these people that I understand who I am, and what I need to be, say or do in this journey of mine.

Then I look out of the window, and i realize, I'm next. It's my turn to get off. The staggering finality of it hits me like a slap in the face. It all pours down on my head, pounding it incessantly, and I am enlightened, for I have understood the eternal paradox of life. I'm ready for the world. All through this journey, I yearned for the end. Now, i'm faced with it. I don't want to get off. This journey has ended too soon. Also it dawns on me that the train has been moving faster and faster with each passing station, with the last leg of the journey being the swiftest. I wish it were the other way around, for now I am sad, for there are a million things i wish i did, and a thousand things I wished I could undo. And then the train stopped.

... and the train stopped. The screeching brakes and the final sickening jolt had a decisive ring to it. I got down, and looked back at the train that I had just left; my heart willed me to stay, but the journey hadn't ended, for the next train... awaits.

... ONE YEAR LATER... I STILL FEEL COMFORTABLE THE MOST WITH ALL MY BATCHMATES. EVEN THE ONES I NEVER TALKED TO IN COLLEGE. I WISH I COULD HAVE MY BATCH BACK WITH ME. GOD BLESS ALL OF YOU GUYS (AND GIRLS) I MISS YOU PEOPLE.

Silver NB.. rewound

another of my exploits on the baddy court.
the first ode was by a guy from IIT kanpur, who is also fortunately (for me), or unfortunately (for him) my baddy partner. I dont remember well but this was the day i learnt about parallax error. Then some time later he sends across this thing he calls an ode... the poem reminded me of the ides of march 2005, (refer mandolini.blogspot.com for "of Geese and G-strings"). so any way.. while the college burns in hatred a la last year... here's a small side dish to savour..

he said:

An ode to the unsuspecting baddy player

A dank, dark, weary groggy day,
the sun barely around to make any hay.
Camouflaged in the background, in comes Adi,
he rings the bell, makes ur morning snooze hell,
asking grumpily, "game for baddy?"
Out we trudge, the few lost souls,
walk in for the big fat kill.
Smiling assasins (more like malicious grins)
Adi (and all that crap), falls into the trap,
gets ready to show his skill.
He huffs and he puffs, he bluffs and he snuffs,
once in a while letting out a cacophony.
Screws shot after shot, somehow gets one 'on the dot',
audiences applaud, Adi manages a nod,
after all, wasn't his 'dot' where they put their money?
We trundle back home, the sun's past chrome,
Adi Singh with the regular morning 'daant' on the phone.
We try to prod, he quotes Skeletor,
like the same old dog without his bone.

Amen!

so said he.

my turn.. i'm not too proud of this.. but anyway.. for posterity's sake.


haha, my friend, on this day your fortunes are bright,
on the court today i could barely put up a fight,
but dear friend, remember the faint light,
when your missed shots were such a sorry sight.
Remember the day, nay, that was your darkest night,
with drops shots galore, this weak armed man did fight,
with precision, that could put to shame a kite,
On that day my friend, you had no might;
For on that day did the dust you bite!
A dog maybe, but to the water i can take,
In alien territory, without skill, or a gill;
but i wonder what will happen to you, O fish
for the dog (nay the bear), an easy kill;
after all, i shall have my day, but you? You wish!!
I shall learn soon, and I shall learn fast,
and then against me you shall not last,
but while we talk about my baddy game,
this ode of yours, is a blotch to your (shoddy) name!!


I take the joke well, and i hope so will you.
hail Beelzebub
aditya

i still suck at badminton. sigh.

Physics 1.0

There are two kinds of men; the ones who are driven, and those unfortunates who aren't. When it comes to games, sport, and in general, any physical strain other than the usual functions, i fall into category two. It requires brute force, or divine intervention, to get me to go run around. Oh, and yes. recently, i was forced to add another reason to that list. The sight of my ever growing belly. (for ease of understanding, and to deliver an effect that english rarely can, i shall call this part of my body by the tamil word i.e. 'toppai'.)

So basically, i started playing badminton. Now, there might be certain sceptics who believe that true exercise can only be achieved by Jai Alai, my friend being the foremost (she believes it's a pregnant ladies' game). I don't. Its a beautiful game, teaches you a lot. We learn a lot of things in life from sport. These baddy days are no exception.

Physics. The greek tragedy of my life. Something that has always remained just that elusive to my intellect. And also the single reason why I ended up doing Civil Engineering after my HSCE. And 5 years later, i learn some of these fundaes, on the baddy court.

Inertia:

Picture this. A doubles game is on. In the middle of a rally, some smart aleck (on the other team, obviously) hits a drop shot. I'm closer to the shuttle (which is falling rapidly) than my unfortunate partner. I reach out, while trying to move to the shuttle. But NO! my feet are made of lead, and i cannot move. This is one of those situations where, as i have mentioned earlier, you are either driven to move, or you are not. I, unfortunately, am simply not able to make myself do so, for reasons unbeknownst to myself. Seeing my puzzled expression, my partner says, "why did i have to get a partner who has such high inertia?"

Physics spake thus : A body in rest, will continue to remain in rest unless some external force is used. Conversely, a body in motion, will continue to remain in motion, in the absence of any external force. In my case, read as "I will not move for the shuttle, unless it is within arms reach. If by any chance an exception (that proves the rule) occurs, I will either run into the net, or my partner."

Just to prove his point, I run into him the next time around. Perfect day. For both me and my partner.

Heisenberg's Uncertainty principle: Moment of inertia mastered, I now realise that my toppai is the culprit. Solution: play more badminton. The Inertia should reduce as time goes on. So here I am, playing badminton again. Another day, and another partner. The score: 4-6, and the other side serves. a couple of shots later, i see the shuttle coming toward me. Nothing too difficult. A nice lollipop. Any decent player, with half his wits around, would be able to dispose of it with consumnate ease. Me, I smack my lips, ready the racket, and swing at where i think the shuttle should be. Contact is made, but without the usual slap noise associated with it.

Next i know, the point is won. I try to locate the shuttle, in the area I expected it to fall. But no shuttle there. It's in the other quarter, which providentially was vacant.

Physics spake: for a moving particle, either the position or the velocity is known. If one is known, there will be a delta error to the other. read as " when i think the shuttle will reach me at time x, the area within which the shuttle might probably make contact will be defined by the contours of the racket. hence the resultant velocity and direction of motion, will be subject to an error factor, which depends on the degree of uncertainty of the position of the shuttle in the first place" (Phew!!)

I've won the maximum number of points off the rim. All hail.

Parallax Error:

The flip side is that, when the error in the position becomes too high, it goes beyond the purview of this law. For two reasons. One, the error is no longer representable as delta. Two, in this case, I lose the point. and there is no law governing losing(nobody has ever come out with a book which says "you can lose" have they?) But englishmen being what they are, give nice names to things that are not bound by any law of the land, or of Mr. Physics.

The weakest part of my game (somebody asked me a couple of weeks ago, what are you strong at?.. i'm still wondering...) has to be the smash. It's non-existent in my armoury. Every time i see the shuttle coming down lazily in a beautiful arc, asking to be hit, i say, this is the time, today i'll learn how to hit the smash! yes, after i master this art, i shall be

the lord of the flings,

the king of the slings,

the master of the smash,

i'll beat you now, prakash!!

I swing, with all the strength in my arm. And I wait for the sound, the sweet sound...... of silence. i look around, and i find the omnicient shuttle at my feet, looking up at me and smiling, like the dog who knows that his master is a dodo, but doesn't want to say so for the sake of their friendship.

This, I am informed by my partner(who was incidentally also in case 1. A very frustrated partner mind you) is called parallax error.

so i learn. i learn more of physics, and less of badminton. I still can't hit the smash. Nor can i beat MoI, or Mr Heisenberg. As always, physics is always, just that bit difficult for me to comprehend.

a pome

This was one of chain of mails. The circumstances are not important. but the poem i liked .( i am a firm believer in the belief that the best things in the world are those i created ) so here it is.


Do not worry, friend, for i am STILL alive,
but you should not push a bee out of his hive,
for it doesn't know what or whom it will sting,
to all of us, unfathomable sorrow it will bring.
the lure of the west has always been strong,
but to judge it, in rupees, will be terribly wrong,
for the money you state, is given for a song,
such petty cash, is worthless in the land of oil,
i might have to burst your bubble, o my dear bong,
in far lands, great hours you have to toil,
don't worry too much, rewards here shall come ere long,

Fly, my friends, if you wish it so,
but please don't chase the golden doe,
have a care when you jump to work with another (old) man,
it should not be into the fire, from the frying pan,
after all this, do not consider me your foe;
else i might have to consider the recourse of lying low.
i have decided though, that this shall be my source of dough,
so in this sinking ship, i shall stand at the bow.
but don't kill the spark, this thread of mails,
although its pace has reduced to that of snails

the HR here shall run chasing their tail,
for we are no less than a mighty hail.
but in case, do'st our resolution yet fail,
and the fire is put out with water in a pail,
it is in the barren lands, and the sign of the four,
shall we, in all our despair, our entire hope pour!!

Noah's Ark

Dreams are nice. sometimes. I usually have okayish dreams, dreams where i'm the superstar.. living a life of luxury (sigh!!).. the only wierd things that i usually see in my dreams (from what i remember) is that the cows always keep jumping over the moon. guess they're armstrong cows..

any way.. there's this one dream that i remember very well. i dont remember how it started.. but all of a sudden i was noah's left hand man, and i was the one responsible for getting the animals into the boat. There is this wierd thing about people understanding things in their dreams that they never comprehended in real life. It's uncanny. Like the shape of benzene. While i was herding Mr. and Mrs. Oliphaunt, Mr. and Mrs. Zebra, Mr. and Mrs. Cat, Mr. and Mrs. Lion, and a whole lot of other couples into that *&^%$ boat (although i must confess that, in all my dreams, noah must be the greatest engineer that ever lived. Even the Queen Mary was a midget compared to this thing he made!!) i realised how a traffic policeman in ahmedabad (they're called "thulla" or "tholla" in that part of the country) must feel. And i pitied them, and my eyes were wet.

A little information about the weather would do us good now. there wasn't a cloud in the sky, nay, not even a wisp. Until my eyes were wet with tears (i know i should say i cried, but somehow it didnt feel right then). Then it happened. The skies burst. Burst Asunder. The wrath of Zeus. Of Jupiter. Of Shiva. Of all the other gods in the pantheon of the great civilizations.
All sense of traffic lost, the animals (god bless they're souls) rush into the boat. I'm outside. I cannot move. I look to my feet. Only I can't see them. They're below water. I hear water pouring. And strangely, I hear music. I strain, trying to make out the tune. It's chumbawamba. They're tubthumping. great song... What the hell!! wake up aditya, you're in the old testament! that cant be right.

I open my eyes. And i figure out why it was raining. my room is flooded.. there's water everywhere .. and not a drop to drink. My god. I close the tap. Some dream. Now i have to clean up this mess. Good morning Bhadrachalam.

panchali

a knot in my gut tells me, look mate, you don't want to be here. Every muscle in your body screams, run away, You BIG, FAT, SENSELESS, five-toed sloth, GET OUT!! but wiser counsels (dunno who they are though) bid me stay, for fear of losing my employment. so, i sit. and wait.

a few smiles, and a few drinks later (of which i have had none, which is reaally bad, for i know not what lies in wait for me) the conversation turns to music. this could be good, or very very bad. it takes only a few seconds before i know, it's bad. they seem to think i know a lot about music (i thought so too. not any more though) but strangely, it's almost as if i am from a different country, a firangh. i'm lost in a sea of vague names and (to me) vague songs. strangely, i'm the only one. next to me are people with boisterous voices, swearing that they have listened to Mr. Mukesh kumar since they were born, and they burst into song. i listen. hard. really hard. i try to fake knowledge of the song. a second. two seconds. and then i give up. i can't recognize the song. i send my brain into standby. the titbits on the table need no cranial activity. so, i feast.


i'd heard stories about an akshayapatra, which was lost in the sands and mists of time and epics. after some time gorging and feasting, the plate seemed just that. This is not good. i'm in front of draupadi(or was it her), and she takes the plate away, and presses something in my hands. it must be a sondesh. no wait this isnt anything like that. this thing has a tail. and a very rounded head. it's faintly metallic. this isn't right. i'm dreaming. This is REM. snap out of it. i look up. and i wished i never had. i was holding a microphone. THIS IS BAD. i look around, and everybody is looking at me. why am i not surprised? my boss tells me, come on boy, sing. Everybody's done. It's your turn.I protest,and profess to a complete lack of the art/skill of singing. But no! I'm a fussface. I'm just trying to be pricey. Yeah right!! I'm Tansen, and i'm going to make rain!!...


I've often read about OBE. it's really interesting trying to figure out how it would feel to be out of your own body.. seeing yourself.. watching you make a total, utter, complete, FOOL of yourself. And now, I'm living it. I can see myself open my mouth to sing. And then it happens. The words flow out of my mouth, my vocal chords struggling hard to put word, beat, and scale together. and i sing.


i sing.i sang. and then its over. i had sung. i look around. i'm happy now. there's adrenaline rushing through my veins. i can see some of my colleagues swallowing hard. and they're desperately trying hard to smile at me, and say, thats great addi, you sang really well!! i'm getting good at this. a rush of warmth courses through me. With parties like this, who needs vodka?


i smile, and return to the food. mission accomplished. another group of people who will never, ever ask me to sing again.