To blog or not to blog...

The last ten days have been so busy that I seriously doubt if I can do justice to my blogging!! And by the way, classes only began TODAY! [sigh]. Several things that kept me busy during the last couple of weeks include undergoing training that my position as Assistant Manager of Babcock Hall demands and meeting deadlines for my job at the InterOperability Laboratory (IOL).

Moving on to happier things. Durham, NH looks positively ALIVE. The bustle of activity that the beginning of the year brings, is a welcome change from the haunting quietness of the summer. The roads are packed and traffic has actually been brought to a halt in a few places. And the best part is I keep running into friends on the roads. :-).

A new year also means new students. Relatively few Indians arrived at UNH this year. But enough to substantially increase the size of our cricket teams. :p. Answering the 1034589 quesstions that the newcomers ask is another major reason for my slapdash blogging. But given the fact that I still hold the record for asking the most number of questions(last year), ie 24000008900080, I guess I shouldn't be complaining.

I did notice a trend in the questions the newcomers are asking this year. Instead of "What courses should I take?", "Which prof is easy on grades?", they ask "What laptop should I buy?", "Which cell phone plan should I opt for?", "When are the swing dancing classes?", "Will you teach me tennis?". God help them!!!

I guess this post is special in a way. It's my shortest post.. :D.

If books could talk...

*Personal post disclaimer*
This post should probably be read only by my friends and those who want to know me better. It is as factual as can be and is about ME alone. I have been book tagged by Silverine and Prasanna and thought I would recant my reading history exactly as it happened.

I embarked on my long reading journey on an extremely boring evening during a visit to my uncle's place in Cochin when I was 5 years old. My dad took a Tinkle that was lying around and slowly taught me to read. I haven't looked back since. We had a great library at National Public School in Bangalore and were encouraged to read from a very early age. Sometime during first grade I went beyond comics and got a Famous Five home. I then pestered my parents to get me one for my birthday which they did. The first book I ever owned is thus "Five on a secret trail" by Enid Blyton purchased for a pricy 30 Rs. Then began the craze.. I wolfed up all the Enid Blyton's I could come across. My favorites at the time included "The Faraway tree", "St. Clare's" and "Malory Towers" (sheepish).

Before long I graduated to Hardy Boys, Nancy Drews and The three investigators and I'm not exaggerating when I say I've probably read everyone of them. The next five years saw a lot of variety in my reading. I basically went berserk. I JUST HAD to read ANY printed matter be it classics like Oliver Twist, Vanity Fair, Wuthering Heights, David Copperfield or religious books like the Bible, the Ramayana or the Mahabharatha. There was a time when I was a member of five lending libraries!! I wouldn't go out when my friends called me to play cricket. Books were essential side dishes while eating. The huge pile of books on the dining table irritated my mom to no end. Things went so bad that my Dad was forced to impose a rule that allowed me to read non-academic books only during weekends. I still remember reading under a night lamp until my eyes ached.

Sometime in 7th grade, desperate to keep me away from the stack of James Hadley Chases' we had in our house my Dad introduced me to Erle Stanley Gardner, Alistair Maclean, Desmond Bagley, Jeffery Archer, Robert Ludlum, Dick Francis and Frederick Forsyth. Unfortunately for him however, I'd already managed to sneakily get my hands on a few Sidney Sheldons. In fact Sidney Sheldon contributed more to my sexual education than did my ninth grade biology class or mainstream television. lol.

But all good things must come to an end. Computers have changed my reading habits.. :-(. I still read a lot but nothing like before. This post is getting nostalgic isn't it? Coming back to the questions I'm supposed to answer..

Total number of books I own? It goes without saying that I own enough books to open a small library. Long long ago my sister and I even numbered our books in some complicated x.y.z format hoping to start one. I forget what those variables stood for though.

The last book I read is technically Reader's Digest, but if that doesn't count then it would be "Digital Fortress" by Dan Brown which I read sometime back. And no it wasn't that great. Talking of Dan Brown, I thought "Angels and Demons" was better than "The Da Vinci Code". Both were fast paced no doubt but the former is factually more correct and as a Christian I believe I'm qualified to make that statement.

Books that have significantly influenced me:

1) The Complete Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister.
- Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay
I've already talked about this book in my first post. So let me just insert a little something from the book.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: I must express in the strongest possible terms my profound opposition to the newly instituted practice which imposes severe and intolerable restrictions on the ingress and egress of senior members of the hierarchy and will, in all probability, should the current deplorable innovation be perpetuated, precipitate a progressive constriction of the channels of communication, culminating in a condition of organisational atrophy and administrative paralysis which will render effectively impossible the coherent and co-ordinated discharge of the function of government within Her Majesty's United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
Jim Hacker: You mean you've lost your key?

Everytime I read this, I'm ROTFL.

2) Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Whoever said this book was for girls. If there was ever a book that could send goosebumps through me then this is it. I read an abridged version of this book when I was on vacation in Madurai during my 5th grade. Over the next 5 years I read the book atleast twenty five times in three other versions. Wonderful dreams I had.. :D. Darcy and Elizabeth.. *sigh*. I've kind of grown out of it now, though it still brings back fond memories.

3) The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexander Dumas
Hail.. Here is D'Artagnan ready to duel with Athos, Porthos and Aramis anytime!! Sword fights rock. Gun fights suck.. :D.

4) The Golden Rendezvous - Alistair Maclean
My father suggested reading him when I was in my 7th standard referring to his english as Queen's english. Rightly so, for Alistair Maclean has taught me more english words than the Barrons. But more than the vocabulary, it is his usage that is most striking. I'm kind of proud of my english but everytime I read one of his books, I'm humbled.
The Golden rendezvous has just about the right amount of romance embedded into the thrilling-as-usual plot which is my main reason for picking it out from all the others.

Other must reads by the same author..
- Fear is the key (An amazing thriller set on an oil rig. The starting is out of the world. Read the first 10 pages and you will be hooked)
- Where eagles dare ( Bluffing at it's very best)
- The Last Frontier (Set in war torn Hungary. A tale of treachery and deception)
- The Guns of Navarone ( A world war II book. Heroism exemplified)
- The Golden Gate ( An audacious kidnapping of the President of the United States on the world famous golden gate bridge in San Francisco. Do read his description of the Golden gate on the first page of chapter 3 (pg 28 in my book). Especially those of you who have been disappointed in love.. lol )
- Goodbye California ( Kidnapping + earthquakes + impending large scale destruction )
- The Satan Bug ( Biochemical warfare )
- Ice Station Zebra ( Set in a submarine deep under the sea ).

5) PG Wodehouses'
Try as I might, I couldn't single out a book by this author. However the entire Blandings Castle series come right at the top.

6) Tintin, Asterix and Archies..
For the innumerable hours of laughter they have provided me over the years, they deserve a mention.

I guess I have rambled on for long enough. Silverine and Prasanna will never make the mistake of tagging me again. :D. Right? Hey.. are you guys still there.. Hey!!?? You asked for it remember?

PS: This day last year, I left India for the US. It's been an eventful year with several ups and downs. Fortunately there have been more 'ups' of late.

PPS: Today also happens to be the 25th wedding anniversary of my parents and both my sister and I are in the United States. That's life for you.. :-(.
Anyway Happy Silver Anniversary Mom and Dad. Thanks for being the 'bestest' parents in the whole world. I love you.. :-)

Cricket Anyone?

There are times when I wish I was back in India. One of those times is when we guys at UNH get together to play cricket. Now believe me, I don’t have anything against these guys or the game itself. I just have a problem with the concessions we have to make to get a good game going. In my never ending quest for comments I present the game of cricket as played at UNH-Durham,NH,USA in what I perceive to be the most popular format in the blogosphere... the FAQ format. For those of you who are not familiar with the term- FAQs are a set of the 'stupidest' questions that can be asked about a given topic, that beg for a corresponding set of equally stupid answers.

UNH Cricket FAQ...

Q) How is the game of cricket played at UNH different from the traditional game played in India?
A) Are you dumb or what? The answer to that one question would obviate the need to ask any other question and would cover the entire post. Didn't you hear me say that this post is designed to be in the FAQ format? Please reframe your question.

Q) Err.. I suppose there are eleven members in a team like in India?
A) You supposed wrong. There will be a mammoth figure of exactly 3 players in each team. No more no less. It is indeed a temptation to bring in members of the fair sex to join in to make the numbers more attractive but be warned that this could result in a fate worse than death.

Q) How so?
A) Well it's a 10 step process.

1. They(the fair sex of course, in case you were wondering) insist on holding the bat like they hold their teddy bear.
2. You show them how to hold the bat.
3. They ask you why everything must be done your way.
4. You tell them it's not your way but THE way.
5. They want to know why your way is THE way.
6. You tell them that it's your way BECAUSE it's THE way and not vice-versa.
7. They want to know why IT is THE way.
8. You pass out.
9. You come around and see that they are still caressing the bat.
10. You wish you were back home in India watching a mega serial on Sun TV, which you will of course agree is a fate worse than death.

Q) Of course, of course.. My sympathies.. How do you manage to cover the whole ground with just three people?
A) Simple. We don't. We cover one fourth of the ground instead. This has an unfortunate side effect however. The high incompetence level of our batsmen ensures that we end up spending exactly 99.99 % of the total game time collecting the ball from the remaining three fourths of the ground.

Q) Say.. you've changed the number of players and the shape and size of the playing ground? Do you still play cricket with a bat and a ball?
A) Of course you dummy. How else would you play cricket? I'm pleased however that you seem to be getting the hang of this FAQ thing. The questions are getting stupider and stupider..

Q) How is the wicket there? Do people normally opt to bat or bowl?
A) Ah.. the pitch.. the precious 22 yards between the stumps. It's fine... But what does that have to do with your other question about batting and bowling?

Q) I just wanted to know if the wicket there was favorable for batting first or bowling first.
A) Always remember the most strictly followed commandment in UNH, my friend.. The person winning the toss shall always bat first even if God comes down from the heavens and states explicitly that the team batting first will make exactly zero runs.

Q) Are there any differences between the ball you use and the one used in India?
A) Good question. Indeed there is. In India you use a cricket ball. Here however, you would use a tennis ball wrapped in white duct tape to make it look like a cricket ball. Apart from appearance, this modified ball has several additional characteristics that make it special.

1. It is slippery enough to guarantee a minimum of 3 wides in an over. This is invaluable in ensuring that every team puts up a double digit total. The slippery nature of the ball is also the main reason behind the phenomenally high ratio of catches dropped to catches taken.. ie infinity.
2. It allows the bowler to bowl a spweam ball. For the uninitiated, this is a ball that spins, swings and seams at the same time. Spweam balls have resulted in entire games where batsmen have not connected with the ball even once and has caused several long lasting injuries to wicketkeepers who have been foolish enough to try to collect these balls.
3. The softness of the ball guarantees that it goes no further than the length of the bat if at all the batsman does connect with the ball. Note that this makes it extremely difficult to score a run off the bat. Rest assured therefore that all runs scored are wides.

Q) Wow.. is the bat different too?
A) Fortunately not.. Two cricket crazy fools actually bought two heavy bats from half-way across the world. These are the same fools who failed to get their toothbrushes. Maybe they thought they could brush with their bats.

Q) What about the stumps?
A) We have very rigid rules for stumps here. The only permissible stump will be a 3 dimensional trash can about 1.5 metres tall and atleast 10 inches broader than the biggest guy playing in the game.

Q) Why that strange rule?
A) This is the one rule that ensures that no one person stands forever in front of the wicket. It is most critical to the game because the probability of someone getting out by any means other than being bowled is precisely P = 0.0000000000003483. The non-existence of this rule would therefore mean that I would still be on the cricket ground playing last week's match instead of sharing my experiences with you. Don't you dare sigh wistfully now...

Q) I wasn't sighing..(sheepishly).. I remember reading recently that there were eleven ways to dismiss a batsman. Is this true?
A) Indeed it is. I guess we both got it from Niyantha's post where a typical chennai auto driver enlightens him about the eleven possible dismissals.

Q) Why then is that probability figure so high.. err.. i mean low?
A) Ah.. The answer to that question follows logically from my previous rantings. But let me spell it out for your obviously dense mind by taking each of the remaining 10 dismissals in turn..

1. Stumped: I'm sure you will agree that a wicketkeeper who is unable to catch the ball is about as certain of making a stumping as I am of making a million dollars by tomorrow. Add to this what I mentioned of a spweam ball and a wicketkeeper and you will understand why a stumping will never happen.
2. Run-out: Who in his right mind would run in the first place if the ball doesn't go farther than the length of the bat? Btw.. in case you were wondering, the length of a bat is approximately 3 feet or 1 meter.
3. Caught: Does the phrase "ratio of catches dropped" ring a bell?
4. LBW: Who would decide on the LBW? the bowler? the batsman? Or perhaps you are suggesting that we reduce our very large team size of 3 to 2 and dedicate two umpires to make such decisions?
5. Hit-wicket: This dismissal is the reason for the non-zero nature of the above-mentioned probability figure. Note also that the critical rule about the size and shape of the stumps is the reason for the relatively large value of P. With normal sized stumps, hit-wickets would be rarer still and P would be more like.. 0.00000000000000000000111.
6. Handling the ball: The ball evokes such terror among us that we would rather man-handle a modern day chennai girl and risk a possible(inevitable?) cheek-slipper collision.
7. Obstructing the field: With only two members on the field other than the bowler, there doesn't seem much chance of this happening.. does there?
8. Hitting the ball twice: hahahahaha... hahahahaha.. That's right.. join me on the floor and laugh. Connecting once is hard enough.. TWICE?... it wouldn't happen even by mistake.. More rolling.. More laughing..
9. Retired out: You've got to be kidding. These guys wouldn't retire on breaking their leg even if Catherine Zeta Jones or Trisha offered to dress their wound. And no, an offer of a strip show from them wouldn't do the trick either.
10. Timed out: Time out a batsman if you want to take a premature trip to heaven or hell(as is your wont) after being shot on the spot by the player in question. All of us are quite content here on our beloved earth. Thank you.

Phew.. that was a pretty verbose answer.. Hope it was satisfactory.

Q) It was.. Is the ground you play in free always?
A) In the event that it is not, all we have to do is take a trip to the tennis courts.

Q) Is that allowed?
A) Of course it is. Except for a sign that says "Only tennis should be played in these courts" there is nothing that stops us from playing.

Q) But what about the sign?
A) What about it? (puzzled) You ARE Indian aren't you. Since when has it become Indian policy to do as signboards say? We take great pride in our heritage and will not think of doing what our ancestors have never done.

Q) One final question.. Any tips for a newcomer interested in joining you guys for a game of cricket?
A) (Thoughtfully) Well.. it is most important for him to stay put in front of the trash can even if the ball is coming towards a very err.. sensitive part of his anatomy. The ball is not hard enough to do any permanent damage anyway. Also, emphasize the fact that reaching out for a wide ball is a cardinal sin and will be punished with a loud wailing noise from his team mates, that will come back to haunt him for the rest of his life. And yeah.. ask him to beware of the spweam ball.. (chuckling).

The "little" things in life

One fine day, our gang of five decided to embark on an ambitious project. The grandeur of the project was such that it required planning more intensive than that required by the allies to push past the Berlin wall. Choosing an appropriate location for plan execution was a major task in itself. Geographical implications such as the presence of camouflage, distance from thoroughfare and safety from the elements of nature were to be taken into account. More importantly, a plenitude of necessary resources was key to the success of our venture. After an exhaustive search, an acceptable location was found that fulfilled most, if not all of our requirements. Next came the numerous other constraints that had to be satisfied if we were to meet with even partial success. Discretion had to be ensured if our activities were to be unhindered. Arcane equipment not normally available had to be procured, making certain that the methods of procurement did not draw attention from the general public. Alternative plans had to be devised in case of any unforeseen eventuality. Finally, proper attire was critical to the success of our mission. This was no coat and tie affair but still, the importance of the occasion demanded something special. Keeping in mind all these and several other factors, we devised a strategy. We double checked and triple checked our strategy and after carefully examining our plan of action for any loopholes we picked the D-day.

The big day dawned, and exuding a confidence that would put Tendulkar to shame, we met clandestinely at the predetermined spot to put into action the meticulous plans that had been made over the last two weeks. We were attired in the prescribed clothing and accoutered with the exact instruments and tools outlined by the master plan. The atmosphere was electric. There was no room for complacency. After a meaningful silence and a prayer of sorts we launched our project and proceeded to execute our much hyped plan with the kind of surgical precision that Steffi Graf used to decimate her rivals. Our concentration to the job at hand was total. The focus was on perfection rather than completion. The sweltering heat had no effect whatsoever on our determined young bodies. Brief setbacks did occur, but then our plan was designed to cover every deviation from the norm, which it did.

At long last, after six straight hours of work we completed what we set out to build and stood back to admire our handiwork. A beautiful mud castle stood as a testimonial to our hard work and diligence. It was indeed a piece of art. Symmetrical beyond description, perfectly shaped and majestic in its form the castle stood 2 feet tall and 4 feet wide. I was seven years old then and I’m talking about a castle that was built in our colony in Bangalore after we had read about a sand castle in a comic.

Why all this “build-up” for a mud castle you might ask. Mind you, I might not have known those big words all those years ago but I sure felt the excitement and thrill that those words portray. Building that castle was as important to me as architecting a real house. It may have been a small thing but I was at my happiest when I was doing it, unmindful of the rest of the world and the things happening around me. I miss those little things in life, the things that cost nothing but still bring you unparalleled happiness. If I talk about climbing trees and fences, building paper planes and boats, playing robber and police, reading Enid Blyton, you might want to gently point out to me that I am an adult now and that regrettable though it may be, the days for those childhood activities are long gone. However it is not those activities that I want to draw your attention to.

I am talking of those activities which most of us go through everyday in what we call our “mundane” lives. Let me illustrate with an example. One night I call my friend and ask him how his day was.. He says “Boring da.. I went to work and came back… that’s it.” Huh? Is that really all he did in a 16 hour day? No, he just blanked out what he thought was insignificant. He forgot all about the smile and inquiries of his neighbor when he left for work in the morning. He forgot the call he received after two weeks from his close friend. He forgot about the girl in the coffee shop who told him she liked the wordings on his t-shirt. He forgot the guy who held the door open for him in his office. He forgot the joke his boss shared with him. He forgot that he had had a great lunch. He forgot about the songs he had listened to while working. He forgot feeling the wind in his face when he was taking the train back home. He forgot about the amazing sunset he had seen from that same train. He forgot that he had helped his mom with groceries. He forgot about the book he had relaxed with in the evening. Are these insignificant? Yes, they are. They could happen to everyone everywhere everyday. The key is in attaching significance to them anyway.

If the only things that are going to make you happy are going to a nightclub in a Porsche with a hot girl on your arm, visiting the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty in New York City, standing on the Golden Gate in California, having ten friends around you to pep you up, getting into the Indian ODI team, cracking CAT, getting straight As in all your courses… well then you’re obviously not going to be happy for most part. If on the other hand you would enjoy an evening out with your parents, a heart-to-heart chat with your mom, an argument with your sibling, a game of scrabble or monopoly, a good book, a walk in the evening with an acquaintance, eating together in the dining hall, dressing up just for fun, sharing a joke, playing a prank, listening to your favorite song a hundred times over… just as much, then you’ve got it made.

It is not easy, however. In my opinion, the best way to appreciate the “little” things, would be to consciously try to remember them and then to generate the enthusiasm to plan for them and make them happen again. My analogy of the castle is intended to pass on the effect of making something totally insignificant into something momentous. The more enthusiasm we generate for even the simplest things, the more they are going to mean to us. Try as I might, I am still unable to generate that castle building enthusiasm for the supposedly mundane events that occur in my life.

I have a theory as to why every passing day makes it harder to appreciate the “little” things in life. But then THAT is another post... :p

Happy Friendship Day!!! :-)

Home away from Home - Part 1

Those of you who have read the last few comments from the previous post will understand why I just HAVE to talk about “Dorm life” in this post. I said it once before and I will say it again… “Me and my big mouth”. Anyway here goes…

When one thinks of a “Dormitory” one thinks of rows of beds stacked horizontally or vertically. Since I am living in a single room (one of 179 other single rooms in the same building) with just one bed, I guess the term “Residence Hall” might be more appropriate. But then, the word hall itself would seem strange for those unexposed to American universities. After all in Indian terms, isn’t a hall a large indoor space or a living room where you entertain guests? Take it from me that almost every building on a university campus in America is called a hall. If you live in it, its called a residence hall, if you eat in it, its called a dining hall and if you attend classes in it, its called… err.. umm.. just a hall. But I digress. Let me get to the point…

Around 5 pm on the 22^nd of August last year, my first day in the USA, I stood outside Babcock Hall (yup, you guessed right, that’s the name of my residence hall… Do I hear any snickers? I’m a gentle guy by nature, but any puns about the name of my beloved hall and you will see my violent side) looking up at the large imposing five floor brick building. As I walked inside I did not know what to expect. Could I live the same way I had lived before? Could I get along with the diverse population of the building. Would I feel left out or lonely? The last question answered itself almost immediately as I was met near the door by three Indians (girls I may add.. ahem.. ahem). Clearly I was not going to miss Indian girls and that was enough to make my apprehension vanish. Once indoors I was checked in to my room by a blonde girl who smiled at me more than anyone had ever smiled at me in my life. Unsure about what to do, I matched her smile for smile. Just when my mouth was beginning to pain, she handed me the key to 128 and I heaved a sigh of relief. I was now an official Babcock resident.

My first thought on seeing my room… “Kinda small”. But that was probably for the best because I am not capable of maintaining a large and spacious room. Not that I’ve maintained this small room very well. (I can find a way to mess up even a 6ft by 2 ft box if I ever get locked up in one (Don’t get ideas, guys)). It just means that I have much lesser space to pollute which is in the best interest of the universe. The only time my room was very clean was when my initial euphoria at landing in the United States propelled me to neatly unpack my two gargantuan suitcases. That first day my room looked great. I remember beaming at my beautiful room and whistling contentedly. Settling down into a routine however took some time with the kitchens and bathrooms causing me the most trouble.

Whatever little I knew of cooking I had learnt from my Mom hurriedly before I left. I took careful notes and landed here armed with a book filled with recipes for several of my favorite dishes. I would cook with the book in one hand meticulously following one step after another. Imagine a high school chemistry student performing a titration in a lab and you have the exact picture of me cooking. However, I never ever obtained the expected result even if I counted out the fragments of salt. In fact, the net result would be barely eatable leave alone tasty. By the end of a month I had taken a strong dislike to my ‘favorite’ dishes. Now, having used the exactly same ingredients used by my mom, having followed all her instructions to the letter and also having been a good chemistry student (My teacher will testify to this) I concluded that the bad results were no fault of mine. This meant of course that the kitchen was to blame according to the Sherlock Holmes principle which states that “Once all possibilities are exhausted, the last one remaining is true however improbable it sounds.” Having concluded thus, I decided to leave the kitchen alone. If I am alive today to write this post, it is because of two good Samaritans (Anu and Bhagi) who for some reason thought it worth their while to feed me and keep me alive. So if you enjoy reading this even a little bit, please don’t forget to thank them.

The bathroom problem seemed tougher to tackle at first because I obviously cannot give up taking a shower like I gave up cooking. Basically the problem was this. The damned Americans used curtains instead of doors. Didn’t they learn in school that curtains can be “drawn apart”? What I wouldn’t have given for a solid wooden door at that time… (sigh). For the first month I clutched the curtain with one hand while bathing. For the next month I just stood very close to the curtain ready for you know what. After two months passed by without the occurrence of any controversial incident, I finally realized that no one was really interested in peeking at me. It hurt my pride a bit but at least I could now shower in peace.

Having resolved the mundane issues, let us turn to more appealing stuff. The most amazing thing about Babcock is that you can have all the privacy you want and at the same time be among people. Bored in your room? Go to the lounge where a bunch of other people from various parts of the world are sitting around chatting or playing a game. (Babcock is the only international residence hall at UNH btw). Once you are fed up with the yapping around you, you can go back to your room, lock yourself in and put a do not disturb sign outside your door. This sign will keep out people from all nationalities except Indian. Note that Indians will make it a point to knock and ask you why you put up the sign. This problem is easily solved by making sure you write the reason for not wanting to be disturbed on your notice board. Mind you, reasons like “sleeping”, “reading” are simply not good enough. A good reason I’ve found is to say “I’m talking to my parents”. This reason will get you a lot of respect from all Indians alike and they will leave you alone for hours together, praising your goodness. Be careful not to substitute “girlfriend/boyfriend” for “parents” though it seems to logically follow. Extreme jealousy will make them hammer your door down before you even open it.

To be continued……

PS: I was not intending to make this a two part post but it is now 1:30 am and tomorrow is going to be a long day at work. I better hit the sack. Damn you Vidya for that deadline.... :p. Yangbai Gangtok, you should be satisfied now. I’m in the process of keeping my part of the deal. Hopefully someday you will reveal yourself to me so that we can laugh about it.

Over and out... :-)

My ascent into “e-literacy”

One fine day, when I was in first grade (I guess I was 6-7 yrs old at the time), I told my dad I wanted to be an engineer like him. He then told me about this thing called a “computer”, that he said would change the world. I mulled over this for a moment and asked him if being a “computer engineer” would fetch me Rs 10000 a month (My dad actually earned less than that at that time). When he assured me that it would, I instantly made up my mind that I would be a computer engineer without ever having seen a computer. (sigh.. if only decision making were so simple now)

It was to be several years before I would actually see a computer. Sometime during middle school in fact. My first encounter with a computer is worth mentioning. I remember looking at it with awe and wonder as if it were GOD. I remember touching the keyboard as if one press of the wrong key would obliterate the entire world. I remember sitting very erect and still, as if the slightest vibration would cause the computer to eat me alive. I remember scraping the CPU with my nail and then waiting with my heart in my mouth for my teacher to send me out of the class for defacing that GREAT and POWERFUL machine. (It was a black/white 200 Mhz DOS machine btw.. with no mouse). I remember carefully entering a LOGO program to draw a circle (A one line program) and then chuckling with delight as the cursor moved on the screen feeling as if I had just made a scientific breakthrough of gigantic proportions. I remember my teacher repeating the expansion of BASIC- “Beginners All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code” over and over again until he had made sure we would remember it long after we were dead. My first encounter was fun no doubt, but more memorable events were to follow.

In my seventh grade, the managing director of my dad’s company invited us for dinner. When we got there, he led me and my sis to his computer. It looked much better than the ones I had seen at school, but more importantly his computer had a mouse and WINDOWS (Windows 95 to be precise) installed. After explaining how to use the mouse, he opened up an encyclopedia and left to entertain my parents. Over the next three hours me and my sister opened, minimized and closed windows on the screen not caring much to read any of the stuff within the windows. (Of course one hour was lost in fighting for our turn for the mouse). It took a hell of a lot of time to close a single window. The “arrow” would head towards the ‘x’ button and then suddenly miss the target. When I missed my sis would let out her most sarcastic laugh and of course I retaliated when it was her turn. Clicking was much worse. We never really mastered the concept of “left clicking” and “right clicking” and were very puzzled when menus popped up. After expounding many theories (each more illogical than the next) to explain the popping up of menus we gave up.

The highlight of the evening was when I heard my Dad yelling for my sis and me when it was time to go home. I was feeling very indebted to our host for letting me use his “personal computer” as he had called it. I very badly wanted to do something to return the favor and decided to save him some power. I looked around carefully and finding the point the computer was connected to, promptly switched it off in spite of my sis telling me to “leave things alone”. Feeling very pleased with myself, I walked into the living room and proudly announced what I had done expecting a pat on the back. What I got instead was a lecture on “shutting down” a system and how a computer was different from a television. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow me, I mumbled my apologies and ran to our car.

Sometime in tenth grade, I came across several articles in the newspapers and magazines about this thing called the “Internet” that was revolutionizing the world. I was highly cynical and found it hard to believe in the concept of accessing information remotely. But very soon a friend took me to a net centre and helped me open my first email account. Seeing is believing and when I started receiving replies to my mails I went gaga over the Internet. From that moment on 75 % of my pocket money was spent on browsing. I went on an email account creating spree and created around a hundred email addresses for myself. Wonder how many of them exist today…. The other side of the Internet was brought to my attention when I was in 11^th grade. I was playing pool with a few friends when one of them said he had something to show us on the Internet. So six of us crowd into a cubicle for one and then I get a shock. My first glance at porn on the Internet. The pictures were more explicit than any I had seen previously in TV/movies. Now, I’m not a prude but I was shivering with fright. I was certain we were all going to go to jail… lol..

It was only in my first year of engineering that I got a PC at home. Then began a period of several crazes. First it was the music downloading craze. I remember spending a month of study holidays most usefully; downloading 227 songs, spending over a 150 hours online to do so. (Today I could have downloaded as much in less than half an hour.) This was followed by the music organizing craze. I created an imposing nested directory structure with more levels than the LIC building in Chennai. I spent hours naming songs, entering track and album information and typing out lyrics. The irony of it all is that I haven’t found time till date to listen to any of the songs. But the worst craze was yet to come. For one semester I ate, slept and played Age of Empires. And did NOTHING else.

In spite of all these crazes I somehow managed to graduate from college finally fulfilling my childhood dream of becoming a “computer engineer”. My entry into America further broadened my horizons what with high speed T1 lines and powerful laptops. Every single day I find something new that I can do with a computer. When I watch DVD quality streaming video or when I talk to my mom and dad on skype, I still feel the same awe that I felt so many years ago when I first set sight on this most remarkable machine called the computer.

Computers of the world… I salute you! :-)

Something 'profound'

A few of days ago an old school friend of mine calls up and says.. "I read your 'Diwali' post. I'm disappointed. I expected you to write something 'profound'." ('Profound' is in quotes because it was the exact word he used). That upset me a bit because I had thought that post was well written. I told him my intention had been purely to entertain and not to make a point. But his words stuck in my head. So last Saturday I sat thinking of something profound to write. Agonizingly nothing appropriate came to my mind.

It struck me that 'life after death' would be really 'profound', given the fact that no one knows anything at all about the subject. But then I didn't either and having posted only twice until then I most certainly did NOT want to scare people off by talking about bizarre stuff like death. After breaking my head some more, I came to the conclusion that "profound" things were beyond me at that moment and so I went ahead and wrote about my weekend.

A couple of days back however, I had an opportunity to read "Rich Dad, Poor Dad" by Robert T. Kiyosaki. That really started me thinking. Basically what the book says is this: 'EDUCATION IS NOT GOING TO MAKE YOU RICH'. (.. (sob).. My dreams have just been shattered). But the book is right. For those of you, who are thinking you will attain financial freedom through MBAs and Phds, think again. You will not. At the most, education can ensure financial security but not financial freedom. What financial security translates to is- you get all you need but not all you want. Even this is at a cost. Chances are you will end up slogging day in and day out, doing something you don't like (even if you do tell everyone you like it). Financial freedom on the other hand means you get to do what you want and still have the money to spend as you see fit.

Many people are under the impression that an American education/job will ensure financial freedom. I was too. Until I spent some time here that is. Then reality hit me. Let me illustrate by guiding you through the typical lifecycle of a hypothetical Indian landing in the United States. Let's call this Indian, Raj. (Mind you, I have no particular fondness for the name. I picked it for 2 reasons.. 1) It's SRK's name in the much acclaimed DDLJ. I'm just hoping this might generate some interest in my audience and prompt them to read the boring story that follows and 2) It has just 3 letters and is just one syllable)

'Raj' comes to America to do his MS on a full assistantship. Living normally (neither extravagantly nor miserly) he breaks even upon graduation. Soon after, Raj gets a job and starts living it up a bit. He buys a car he fancies and travels around America. Something he was never able to do as a student. Still manages to save around 20000$ each year. After a couple of years he gets bored of being single and decides to get married. Let us assume he marries someone who earns around the same amount as he does. (And no, I'm not going to call her Simren. Lets just call her Ria (I couldn't think of a girl's name with a single syllable)). Expenses should double obviously but in reality they triple. So R&R manage to save 30000$ a year. Together they plan to buy a house. Now a good house in a good location would be anywhere between 300000$ and 500000$. Let's suppose they buy a house for 400000$. Of course this is on a loan at say a phenomenally low interest rate of 5 %. Once they move in they would obviously save all that they were spending on renting a house. They save 60000$ a year now. With that kind of savings it would take them approximately 10 years to pay off that loan (including interest).

In the meantime of course R&R are not idle. They have a couple of kids. Expenses go up like hell. (Parents here have the habit of literally filling their kids' rooms with expensive toys and the increased family count means India trips get more expensive). But both parents are working hard and obviously get pay rises every year. So I'm going to let that rest. By the time the loan on the house is paid off, the children are in the middle of school. It's time R&R started saving for their college education. Now trust me, good undergrad education can be a very costly affair in the United States. And just like Indian parents want their kids to study in the IITs, R&R want their kids to study at Stanford even if it costs an arm and a leg! In numerical terms a four year education at Stanford for two kids would mean R&R would have to save around 400000$ (Assuming 50000 a year per kid). Also, keep in mind that expenses would skyrocket once their children reach adolescence. Boys would require money to take out girls. Girls would require money for perms, facials, manicures etc... Also the legal driving age of 16 in the United States means cars have to be bought and this in turn means doling out for gas. In any case R&R being the typical steadfast and caring Indian parents, manage to save what is necessary when it is time for their children to enter college.

After the kids graduate, R&R are finally able to save a substantial amount. But by this time of course Raj and Ria are 50. They work hard for the next 5-10 years and then retire to spend the rest of their life with whatever they have saved. THE END.

I wonder if I'm going to be like Raj... :-(.. I just hope not..

PS: I just reviewed what I have written and realize that this is a feeble attempt at being ‘profound’ (inspite of all the numbers… lol). I can’t for the life of me imagine why I couldn’t have left out the cracks and stuck to serious sentences. Perhaps it’s because I think life itself is a joke. I really need to grow up…(sigh)

A Happening Saturday..

Last weekend I was at the International Gem Show in Marlboro, which happens to be around 90 miles(140 kms) from where I live. In case you are wondering what I was doing at a jewel show let me tell you that I was playing driver to a couple of friends(of the opposite sex no doubt) who put their foot down and insisted I take them there. One other guy was also forced (by marital ties) to tag along. I was told to be ready by 9 AM. I blanched. 9 AM on Saturday morning!! Crazy. However, the two prospective jewellery buyers argued that it would get too crowded later in the day and that the best deals and discounts would be in the morning. I was highly cynical (esp about the crowds), but resigned myself to my fate.

So we set off around 9 AM (Indian Standard Time of course) and got there in an hour and a half. There was a 7$ entrance fee and after finding out that we DID NOT get any gemstones free with the entrance ticket my friend and I contemplated catching a movie, leaving the girls to go in and make their own purchases. Almost instantly we decided against it for different reasons. My friend was obviously concerned about the money his wife might splurge. I was however more worried about the time the girls would spend in there. Now don’t mistake me. In my experience girls need someone to tell them.. "oh.. that's awesome".. “it suits you perfectly”.. "wow.. amazing" and stuff like that without which they would go insane with the mammoth decisions that would have to be made. And of course insane people wouldn’t be able to find their way out of a large hall. So it was out of concern for their well being that I shelled out 7 dollars and walked inside.

Almost immediately my jaw dropped open in surprise. There were more jewels in that hall than ALL the jewels given in dowry at ALL the marriages in India. And more importantly there were more people in there than there were during the fourth of July celebrations. In fact I guess it was the largest crowd I had ever seen since I entered the United States. Large crowds always make me feel good because there are hardly any people on the roads here. The crowd was basically full of older people. American teenagers clearly preferred iron, steel and rock to gemstones. In any case if I had wanted to ogle at girls I should’ve gone to the beach. So I moved around observing the vast multitude of people from almost every country in the world occasionally pausing to reassure my female companions that their selections were indeed worthy ones. Only once did the thought of buying something for my sister (yes you suspicious jerks, I said ‘sister’) come into my head and I turned over an especially attractive set of emerald earrings to look at the price tag. Only 506$ after discount. My sister would have to wait! Even bootlicking credit card companies couldn’t make me spend that kind of money on jewels right now.

In the midst of all this I had an urge to use the lone vending machine in the huge hall to buy a can of coke and then proceeded to spill the same all over the floor. I looked around carefully to see if anyone had noticed and then performed a disappearing act. You would be surprised to see how fast I can move sometimes.

Around 12:30 pm, we guys decided that it was time to begin pestering the girls to leave if were to have lunch at atleast 2 pm. Have you ever wondered how girls can get tired and hungry after a short trip from the living room to the bedroom but still walk for miles in malls without thinking of food and rest? Well I have and I’m still wondering. Anyways, after an hour of pitifully moaning about our extreme hunger the girls relented. I must concede though that the morning was not wholly unentertaining.

Lunch was at an Udupi restaurant and among other things, I had “Aloo bonda”. Now this may not be worth mentioning but please note that this was the first time I had ever partaken of the above said dish. Man, was it good. I’ve clearly missed out on some of the better aspects of life in India.

The final stop for the day was at a temple in Framingham. I planned to stay outside but after discovering that I was allowed to keep my socks on (footwear rules are clearly more flexible in the United States), I went in and took a look around. This temple was different from the ones I had seen previously. It wasn’t dedicated to a single God but housed the shrines of several of the most popular Hindu Gods- Shiva, Vishnu, Karthikeya, Lakshmi and Ganesha. There were a couple more but I do not recollect their names. I looked around curiously at the worship going on around me while my friends prayed. Once they were finished we headed home. Our trip back was uneventful barring one particular incident where I very enthusiastically missed the exit we were supposed to take. Not a big deal… just an extra 20 miles before the next one.. lol..

All in all a fun Saturday!

PS: Most of my pals here left for Niagara this weekend. Yours truly did not go. Yours truly is stuck with work...(sigh)..

Out of thin "Smoke"

I did hint that my next posting would talk about the fireworks display on the fourth of July. The display was magnificent no doubt, but unfortunately green, blue, yellow, pink, purple and all the flashy colors I witnessed three nights ago will still be 'black' words on a 'white' background in my blog. As the visual spectacle reached a climax, the smell of the smoke wafting in reminded me of something else. Strangely enough, smoke smells the same in India and America and my thoughts drifted half the world away to Diwali. In case you are wondering why the display itself didn't bring thoughts of Diwali, let me tell you that I am wondering about that myself. Nevertheless it didn't. Perhaps because it was so different from what I was used to seeing.

Almost invariably Diwali begins the same way for me every year. Around five in the morning I hit the ceiling, bounce a couple of times between the ceiling and my bed and then come to rest on the bed(sometimes on the floor) with a look of shocked bewilderment on my face, not knowing what hit me. Until the next thunderous explosion shakes the very foundations of our house that is. Then realisation sinks in. I curse my neighbors' children who just HAVE to burst "hydrogen", "atom" and the more popular "lakshmi" bombs at such an ungodly hour, curse my neighbors for having such children, curse the world in general and then plug my ears and get back to sleep.

Try to get back to sleep I mean. Let me state here that it is very difficult to sleep while holding your hands to your ears. If you don't believe me, try it sometime. Sleeping on your side would mean sleeping on your elbow (ouch), sleeping on your back would mean either of two things.. 1) Your arms are unsupported. 2) Your arms are stretched out at an unnatural angle of 180 degrees from each other(gymnasts please excuse). And if you don't think that 1) is too big a deal let me remind you about that "raise your hands" punishment everyone of you must have gone through in school. Good, now you get the idea. And of course, sleeping on your stomach would mean immense pressure on your forearms.

After logically considering all three alternatives, I decide to go with the "sleeping on the stomach" option. Soon the ache in my arms becomes unbearable. I sit up deciding to put to good use the brain God has been kind enough to implant in me and give some serious thought to the problem. A pillow catches my eye. Gleefully, I sandwich my head between my two pillows. A wasted effort. It takes less than 2 minutes of continuously modifying the position of my head in between the pillows for me to realise that a hundred pillows would be necessary to effectively muffle out the sound. I considered collecting pillows from all the rooms and the sofas but it took less than 10 seconds for even my "tubelightish" brain to conclude that we DID NOT have a hundred pillows even if I counted the dusty ones lying on the top shelves of our wardrobes.

Totally frustrated, I begin to pace the floor in my room while the nerves in my brain worked overtime to solve what appeared to be an NP hard problem(unsolvable ie). By this time it was 6:30 am and the explosions had reached a crescendo. The early risers had woken up the entire neigborhood which wasn't surprising. What was surprising was that the later risers seemed to think that the best way to punish the early birds for their transgression, was to drown out their noise with more bombs. What foolishness!!! Of course, the incessant noise meant continuous lapses in concentration, ruining any chances of brainstorms. Giving up, I resolve to catch up on my sleep the next day and head out to brush... which is a mistake.

My mom catches me in the hallway. "Nirmal, I'm glad you got up so early.. you need to go to the shop". While I stare at her wondering if I really heard those words.. she goes on.. "There is no milk in the house and I need to make coffee." Fear crept into my eyes. She couldn't possibly be serious could she? I ask her if she knew it was Diwali today. She did of course.. the neighbors had made certain of that. I plead with her but to no avail. I remind her that I'm her only son but she still does not relent. Instead she says "Be a man". That did it. I turn purple with rage. "I'll show her", I think. Another mistake. I shouldn't have fallen for that cheap trick.

Ten minutes later I am at the gate feeling not unlike a soldier about to set foot onto a minefield. I look down the road carefully, trying to chart out a safe route to my destination which was 300 metres away. Being used to running long distances during my school days I would have scoffed at 300 metres on any other day. That day, however the distance seems to be of a much larger magnitude than the distance from Boston to Chennai. I hesitate. The sight of my mom on the balcony propels me. The time had come. I muster all my courage and hurtle down the road. Think of how a dog would run with a triggered string of a 1000 "bijlis"(I forget what they are called) tied to it's tail and you have the exact picture of me hurtling down the road. I zig and zag avoiding both real and imaginary bombs. With my hands over my ears of course. Again, it is not easy to run with your hands on your ears.. especially if there is a shopping bag in one of those hands.. sort of upsets your balance. On top of all that I find that everyone in sight is looking at me as if I were a prize goof. Downright degrading. At long last I reach the store. On my way back I foolishly assume that having reached my destination unscathed it would be safest to take the same route back home. It turns out I was wrong. The net result: I come within 5 feet of an exploding "hydrogen" bomb. I get home in a state of shock, my ears ringing and my eyes staring blankly into space. I look sorrowfully at my Mom and hand her the bag with the milk, expecting a few words of sympathy but I get none. She grabs the bag and walks into the kitchen leaving me gaping after her.

The afternoon is relatively quieter and I am more than content to lie in bed, with a book and some sweets(a more pleasant aspect of Diwali), which some of our neighbors' kids(those over enthusiastic early birds) brought across. (Thank god I was out on my perilous journey to the store when they came over, else I might be languishing in a jail in India for murder right now.) No disturbances at all except for a call from my friend in the evening asking me if I wanted to play cricket. I laugh at him and tell him to go jump in a lake. Inwardly I sighed. It isn't very often that I get a chance to play cricket.

Is this all worth it? Indeed it is. For the sun is about to set.

With sunset comes the best part of Diwali.. the LIGHTS.. The lights may not be as fancy as the display the other night but the sheer numbers more than make up for it. The entire city seems lit up. From my third floor balcony, I see large masses of people on the road and in front of houses lighting up a a variety of firecrackers. Children laugh happily while clutching sparklers or lighting flowerpots(I just love flowerpots). Come to think of it, I'd rather light a small flower pot or a plain rocket myself than just watch a professional set up a massive array of fireworks. While admiring the amazing spectacle before me I realise that I'm still holding my ears to block out the intermittent ruckus. I begin to wonder "If Diwali is the festival of lights, where does the sound fit in?" Of course EVEN I'm not ignorant enough to want soundless firecrackers. I only have a problem with fireworks that produce sound exclusively. Even that would be alright, if the sound were rythmic/melodious/musical. I just do not see the point of lighting up something, then running helter-skelter and waiting fearfully for it to go just... "BAAAMMMM"; which is what I see most people do. Anyway I guess it's a matter of taste. I enjoy the sight for a little bit and make my way inside.

Reflection on the day's happenings: I put up with some noise and get to eat a whole variety of sweets and view a large scale firework display without
1)having to do any "Pooja".
2)having to get up early and bathe.
3)having to go about knocking on doors and distributing sweets.

Not a bad deal at all.

And let me share a secret. I actually missed not being blasted out of bed last year. lol...

One last thing.. Happy Birthday Mom.. I love you.. :-)

On your mark... get stead.. GO.. GO.. GO..

Thoughts of hitting the blogging scene have been preying on my mind for quite some time now. Every few weeks I would drive the thoughts out of my head telling myself I was too busy to be able to maintain a good blog. (I was not.. Just this feeling of self-importance that invades my being every now and then). In fact I should say my mind was split into two on the issue of blogging. For convenience let's say that the left part of my brain was all for blogging while the right wasn't. (biologists, forgive this trivialization). Since last year my left mind(LM) has been playing various tricks on my right mind(RM)(assuming again that RM had the final say in the matter) to get me started with blogging but RM was STRONG. RM resisted with all his might each of the arguments put forward by LM. A most persuasive train of thought that LM tried follows..

LM: isn't that blog good? I could do much better..
RM: Oh really? I don't think so.
LM: Umm.. I could atleast do as well
RM: do you really think so?
LM: Actually "NO"
RM: I knew it..
LM(consolingly): But I could come close
RM: seriously?
LM(sheepishly): again No.
RM: sigh
LM: But atleast a blog would be a more productive way of wasting time than hanging out with girls.
RM: Hah! Are you trying to put one over me? I know my priorities in life.
LM: Oops.. my mistake..

and so it went.

Until today, that is. I got back from India last week. And LM has been acting up since I got here. Anyways I figure 15 months of procrastination has beaten all my previous records and so am on the verge of taking the plunge. In fact since I've already typed out 250 words(don't count, it was just an estimate) I guess I should say "I've taken the plunge". :-)

Why today the fourth of july 2005? Today is not my girlfriend's birthday (but then again it might be.. Sadly I won't know for sure until I meet her). However today just happens to be the "FOURTH OF JULY" which is why I must explicitly state before I am branded a traitor, deserter and the like that the American Independence day is NOT the inspiration for beginning my blog. It just happens to be a long weekend during which I took the time to get started. In fact if at all something(or rather someone) has inspired me it would be Vinod(my junior in college) for he maintains one of the classiest blogs I have come across.

I would like a theme to my blog. Having lived in the United states for about a year now and having been born and brought up in India, a comparison of the two cultures seems to be the most obvious theme. I would like to state here that my opinions/postings may be controversial. However, the intention is not to ridicule either of the cultures but to share my thoughts and have a little fun at the same time. That being said, I reserve the right to digress and talk about myself at anytime.. ;-).

A little something about me..
I am pursuing graduate study in Computer Science at the University of New Hampshire which happens to be a quiet and picturesque school about an hour from Boston. I studied Information Technology at Sai Ram Engg College and was lucky enough to fall under the scope of Madras university since that meant I didn't have to study for four years.. Don't be envious.. I've had to slog my heart out during the last one year making up for my lack of "knowledge", and I've still got a long way to go.

Reading is a passion of mine.. and I will very definitely explore the subject further in my future postings. I love satirical humor and my favorite books in that category are "Yes Minister" and "Yes Prime Minister". I would certainly recommend that everyone read the book (note that I said 'read' not 'watch'). More specifically I would recommend it to the fans of "The Hitchiker's guide to the galaxy". Having read both books I'm confident they will appreciate it.. for the nonsensical humor if nothing else..

I ought to get going now and watch the wonderful fireworks display that my friends are raving about. If it lives up to expectations it might even make an ideal next posting.

God Bless America.. and India.. and every other country in the world.. :-)