On CampUS

Life is a Beach - In Miami

2010-01-09T20:51:00.000-08:00

Dhan te nan !!! A road trip planned to Miami for New Year's eve. State College to Miami - over a 1000 miles drive one-way. Well, we (Enjoimaadi gang) had already done it once earlier in the year. Unplanned, and an unexpected adventure it was, from getting locked out of our apartment en route, to finding out that one of us had a driving license that had just expired and then finally reaching our destination at 5:30 am in the morning only to realize that we forgot to buy a birthday cake for our host.

But this was different. It was New Year's. In 2007, 5 of us guys spent New Year's eve at Times Square. And this time, Miami was where we were heading. Go Miami!

But as it usually transpires in all long trips, this one had its share of adventure, misunderstandings and extravaganza. We reached Florida without much ado and spent a delightful evening in Naples watching the beautiful sun-set on the beach. The next day we traveled further south into the Keys right up to Key West. On the snorkeling cruise that we embarked upon, yours truly ended up having sea-sickness and puked his guts out all over himself. Yucky you say. Yucky I felt.

I needed coffee, badly. Its funny, whenever I am in such dire straits, all I can think of is coffee. I guess something to do with caffeine and stress. Anyways, we got off the boat, a few of us itching with salt water all over and me stinking with puke all over. After coffee I felt much better, but a few of us felt that most of us needed a shower. Any guesses why?

We were miles away from our hotel. Where on earth (Key West) would we get shower facilities? The beach !!! So we headed over to the beach. It was well past 8 pm and it had started to get chilly. Now, for the uninitiated, these showers I am talking about are open showers. There is this 8 foot pillar with a nozzle attached at the top of it, and one just stands underneath it and takes a shower. I got out of the car, removed 'most' of my clothes and raced towards the shower. As I made my way towards the open shower I couldn't but help remembering an antagonized Shanky's remark, "All the way he comes from home to college, why... to go back home." All the way I come to Florida... why ... to take a shower at 8 pm in 10 degrees Celsius. Gah!!! But the shower did wonders to my appetite. We went to this awesome restaurant called Carolines and I ended up gobbling up a nice tasty shrimp delicacy. Bery tasty.

The next day was New Year's eve. The disc that we had bookings for was very close to the beach, so we spent the entire day on South Beach, had a quick bite at a MacDs, changed into our evening wear and walked into the pub ready to rock the party that night. We began our journey towards complete intoxication with a nice sizzling gin shot. Burnt my throat it did. But we weren't done. Next in line, a tequila shot. Things were hotting up. All of us hit the dance floor, for mid-night was fast approaching.

The DJ played Tonight's going to be a good night just before the countdown to 2010. We all began to groove to the music. One beer later, I started doing the step SRK does in 'Yeh Tara Woh Tara' - the one where he hops around in ghoda-ghadi style. Most of the people quickly escaped from the dance floor. A second beer later, a 'Main aisa kyon hoo' step was attempted, only to find all the women disappear from sight. I stopped dancing and headed towards the rest-room to take some rest. Drinking and dancing are exhausting activities.

It was time. I needed coffee. I needed to get out of the disc. I dashed out telling my friends I was going to get coffee. But, the problem with these dance pubs is that once you get out you cant get back in. Game over. Phitoosh.

So here I was sitting on the side-walk outside the disc, sipping my beloved coffee, contemplating on what to do next. I couldn't get back in, and my friends were not getting out of that place. "Never confuse the unusual and the impossible", was what Psmith always lectured about. Well, I had done just that. I made the mistake of assuming that all my friends would want coffee (not the PKSE wala coffee that Rahul Bose was after - everyone wants that) at the same time I wanted coffee. I had no option but to sip on my coffee while I waited for everyone to come out.

"Wake up Sid!", I suddenly saw Mox standing next to me. Everyone was finally out. I got up and started to look for a cab that would take us back to the parking lot where our car was parked. Not a single cab stopped for us. They were already booked. All of us anxiously started ringing up local cab offices. But this was not State College. We were in Miami and it was New Years. The whole city was looking for cabs. It took us about an hour to get one cab. Half of our paltan got into the cab. The rest of us waited on to find another one. Half an hour later we were comfortably settled in a cab that zipped its way through the Miami traffic. We stopped at a pizza place to get some grub. I downed another cup of coffee too.

We finally reached our car in the parking lot. It had been a tiring day. I dozed off at the back of the car. We reached our hotel in the wee hours of the morning. The sun was rising. A new day was about to descend upon us. A new day to a new year. 2009 ended with vigour and in the end 'All izz well... that ends well.'

Addendum (10th Jan 10):

Have recently started watching the series 'How I Met Your Mother' and today was watching the episode 'The Limo' where Ted organizes this awesome New Year schedule for all his friends in NYC. The story is fast-paced and I love it so far. The episode ends with Bob Saget (the future Ted) solitarily announcing that 'Not every night has a happy ending but all of it is important, all of it was leading somewhere, because suddenly it was 2006 and 2006 was a big one.'

So bhaiyya ... in the end 'Aall izz well...'

Happy New Year.

Of Dreams and More

2009-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:00

It has been a while, hasn't it? Well, the second-half of this year has not shied away from making me feel as if I have been sitting upside down in some roller-coaster of sorts.

But today, things have been mellow. The weather was unbelievably fantastic for a day in November. Close to 20 degrees C, sunny and blue skies. Went for a jog with friends and ended up running close to 5 km. Hope the weather stays like this for some more time. Could do with some much-needed exercise.

A few days ago, Life Rules posted a real cool post. Funky tune and brilliant lyrics. And then on Saturday, I saw another beautiful post on a friends FB wall. Its a short movie called Struck (click here to watch it) which definitely struck a chord somewhere. And close to the end of the movie, a soundtrack begins to play that struck me some more. Posting the complete version sung by "Iz" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwoʻole.

The year is drawing to a close.The next step beckons. And as this post draws to an end, I am reminded of that brilliant song from that brilliant movie. Watch Prabhudeva at the end doing his version of the song.

Guy Talk

2009-06-02T16:38:00.000-07:00

It has been a hectic last couple of months. Semester endings are always a pain, whether one has 3 courses to juggle or just 1 course to tackle. There is always that report that never seems to get completed till the last minute or that exam which is never thought off till the night before. But in the end all's well that ends well.

Well, after all that hard-work, a good long holiday was the cry of the hour. So off we went on a road trip right down to Miami. Beach, bikini and beer. Can't ask for more. There is something about the sea that makes those women extremely hot. Need to do more research on that. And learn Spanish too.

Anyways, so yesterday was just one of those days where a guy gang slowly began to make its presence felt at the author's place. It was a little after 7 pm and during these long summer days, it was just the right time to enjoy a cup of tea and watch the sun slowly dip into the horizon, soon to dawn on the land we thought of so much these days.

It is an oft-debated theory, especially among the fairer sex, that when a group of guys gets together, all they can discuss is girls. Now, lets get one thing straight. All straight guys discuss girls. Period. No ifs no buts, only chicks. But there are occasions when we deviate from the obvious. And yesterday was one such day.

Our talk started off with the General Motors' bankruptcy filing news and how this would impact other global players in the automotive industry, we touched upon the possibilities of the whereabouts of the missing Air France Airbus A330, then made our way to the dark side of Dubai and slowly meandered towards one of my favourite topics, Pune. (Yours truly being born and brought up in Pune.)

Three out of the other four guys had - at sometime or the other - been associated with Pune for the purpose of education or work. So the topic started with one of my room-mates mentioning how amazing the schooling was in Pune.

Another guy exclaimed,
"Bhai, UG in Pune!!! Kya mazze ke din the woh!!!"

Another guy blurted out,
"The girls at E-Square!"

Definitely straight.

He then explained how he once went to a multiplex in Hyderabad to watch a movie, and began to wonder whether women had stopped watching movies. I completely sympathized with the dude. For when I was living in Hyderabad, I had had a few debacles at the only multiplex (Prasads) that Hyderabad had then (PVR had yet not started then). I then decided to keep all the mega block buster type movies strictly for my Pune visits. Rang de Basanti was the one movie that I couldn't wait to get to Pune to watch. So I saw it at Prasads. And then I went to Pune and saw the movie again to get the actual feel of the movie. There is a different feeling when you watch a good movie in a cinema hall packed with good looking females.

After movie halls, the topic moved to some of the wierd names that Pune areas have. Camp, Koregaon Park, Bibewadi, Swargate, Jangali Maharaj Road. There are so many. But the wierdest that we could think of was the chowk called 'Seven Loves Chowk' that lies below the fly-over connecting Swargate to Camp. Why would someone name a chowk 'Seven Loves Chowk'? My guess is that there was a hotel named 'Seven Loves' at that chowk. I wonder how the food would be there?

Any other guesses?

Go Green

2009-03-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

When I initially came to the US in Fall 2007, I came across a very interesting documentary on YouTube describing the effect that outsourcing was having on the Indian (yes, Indian) economy. And guess what, the narrator was an American journalist named Thomas Friedman.

Intrigued, I later found that this guy had actually written a book called The World Is Flat: A Brief History of The Twenty-first Century (2005; expanded edition 2006; revised edition 2007) and in one of his interviews he was asked how did he come to think of the mentioned title. And he goes on to describe a discussion he had with Nandan Nilekani while making the said documentary, which triggered off a thought process and the consequence was the book mentioned. Below is a brief overview of what the book is about, straight from the horse's mouth.

A few days ago, I ventured to find out what Mr. Friedman was writing these days. His latest book is called Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution—And How It Can Renew America (2008)

This sounded interesting. I needed more information. Once again YouTube to the rescue. As I watched this brilliant presentation yesterday, my mind trotted back to my visit back to India last December. It was a short visit, after a gap of 16 months. And as I roamed around in the city where I had spent most of my life, I slowly began to have this scary notion that if and when I plan to come back to Pune, there may be no place left for me.

For, the city seemed like it was going to burst any minute. Malls at every nook and corner. Traffic sense that dint seem to have any sense at all. Where was my green Pune that I left a few years ago? In 2006, I remember on my trips back from Hyderabad, I used to complain about the condition of the roads in Pune. There used to be more craters than roads. Well, the roads have definitely improved, but there seems to be no place on those roads to walk, let alone drive.

This presentation drives home that very point, that a whole new class of people is slowly emerging, all who can afford to live the same lifestyle that normal Americans do. And its about time we start worrying about the burden that we are imposing on this planet.

I was so glad when I came across this campaign this morning and I hope that we all slowly but surely move towards a green revolution. In Mr. Friedman's own words, "We have exactly enough time, starting now."

Go Green !!!

A few years ago...

2009-03-14T19:08:00.001-07:00

Salaam Namaste

2009-03-08T15:25:00.000-07:00

Image inspiration: http://991.com/newgallery/Chris-De-Burgh-The-Lady-In-Red-301197.jpg

I was reading Just a mother of two's Alphabet Party and thought why not try her idea of using alphabets to draw the lady in red.

The dress is made completely using alphabets like U, S, L, P etc. With Photoshop's versatility, I could flip the alphabets wherever I needed.

Also, while browsing the Internet, I came across an article which was good food for thought. (read it here)

Happy Women's Day !!!

La Vita e Bella

2009-02-16T17:07:00.001-08:00

So, last Friendship's Day, I tried my hand at a Goan sweet dish which turned out to be pretty good. Motivated by the outcome, for this Valentine's Day, I tried an Italian sweet dish called Tiramisu. Credit for the recipe goes to my Mom.

Ingredients: (serves 4 people)

1 Light sponge cake (angel food cake available at Walmart)
3 cups warm water
3 teaspn coffee
5 teaspn powdered sugar
50 gm whipped cream
100 gms Mascerpone cheese (available at Wegmans)
250 ml milk
3 tbspn custard powder
1 teaspn vanilla essence
1-3 tbspn rum (depending how intoxicated you want your guests to become)

Preparation:

1. Cut light sponge cake into small cubes

2. Mix the warm water and coffee together and pour evenly over the cake

3. Make a thin custard (by mixing the custard powder and sugar into boiling milk), and pour this over the cake

4. In a separate vessel heat mascarpone cheese, whipped cream and little powdered sugar and mix till it is smooth. Add vanilla essence and rum once the mixture is a little cool. Pour this mixture over the cake

5. Decorate with dry cocoa powder and grated chocolate
(I decorated it to suit the occasion)

6. Keep the dish in the fridge for 1 to 2 hours till it is firmly set

7. Serve cold

Buon appetite!

The V@gina Monologues

2009-02-07T17:21:00.001-08:00

The other day, as I sat in the bus wondering what plans to make for the weekend, I noticed the local paper had this on its front page.

Love was in the air, Venus shone brightly in the sky and an interesting play at the Schwab Auditorium. Sounded like a perfect potpourri of events. So we went for it.

And what a play it was !!! At the start of the play, the narrator requested the audience to switch off their mobile phones. She added, "Sorry ladies, no vibrators today!"

An annual event here at Penn State, Eve Ensler's V@gina Monologues is an Obie Award-winning play made up of a number of monologues which all relate to woman sexuality in some way or the other. A subtle mix of humour, satire and eroticism, the play had the entire hall (dominated by women) mesmerised and in splits of laughter.

On the brochure handed over to us during the play, the director Shana Lombardi had written a beautiful article. An excerpt from the same:

"Tonight, laugh, cry, let your minds be open, and let your toes curl. But when the curtain closes, remember to take with you the spirit of The Vagina Monologues: the self confidence and the common bonds, the means of connecting to the important women in your life, and supporting each other. Remember to let creativity and love flourish in opposition of violence."

The event is in fact a part of a global movement called V-Day, launched by Ensler in 1998, which works to stop violence against women and girls, including rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation and sexual slavery. V-Day has raised over sixty million dollars for women's anti-violence groups.

Apparently the play seems to be a huge hit in India too, and I am looking forward to see that one too, whenever opportunity offers a chance.

Lessons in Love

2009-02-04T21:12:00.000-08:00

Last Valentine's Day, I had posted this which included a really sweet song from Satte Pe Satta. Well, with less than 10 days to go for V-day, here is another song from the same movie. Watch the 'Dream Girl' give a few tips to her eagerly listening saalas.

I love the sequence where the hero - none other than Big B -comes in and surprises the heroine at the end.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

2009-02-02T19:04:00.000-08:00

I wrote this piece in Aug 2006 after having returned from a short visit to Bangalore. Thanks to Subbu, my partner-in-crime of those erstwhile Satyam days, who had a copy of it and sent it today. Posting it (unchanged) for perusal.

--------------------------------------------------

This is just one of those things that I felt like writing about and am using Outlook as my blog space since I don’t have net access….

Also, since today the servers are down I don’t have much (read as ‘any’) work., and if you feel that reading this is a waste of time, you are absolutely right since basically I am also just passing my time…..

I apologize for my casual style of writing and am sure that my views in the below narration are bound to raise minor objections, but this is just an opinion and not a judgement…..

At any point of time that you feel that the narrator is boring you with trivial details, feel free to abuse him……..

Well here goes……

On the verge of celebrating my first anniversary (8th Aug) alone in Hyderabad, I was tempted to air my views on this city and the differences I found with the city I have lived in for 20+ years. But faith so ordained it that before I had time to do so, I was made to visit a third city (Bangalore) and in the matter of 2 days, I realized how foolish it was of me to even think of comparing two cities without having had a feel of different cities.

The moment I stepped out of the train onto the City Junction station, I was impressed by the cleanliness that was very much perceivable. The air seemed to be cleaner; the traffic more organized and I even noticed that the auto-wala, who took me to my destination (Century Club - KR circle), had his license displayed inside the auto. All these observations had me quite impressed with the city and add to that the sprawling gardens and parks were quite refreshing to the eye.
Saturday and most of Sunday was busy spent with the marriage that I had come to attend and the rigmarole associated with it. Sunday evening I managed to escape the final ceremony, rationalizing with my parents that the venue was too far and I would surely miss my bus if I were to attend the function. So here I was all alone for one full evening in a city I knew nothing about but had heard a lot about.

The following details are for those who are aware of the topography of Bangalore and others can skip it if you want to:

Century Club is located inside a park called Cubbon Park. This park has many gates, one of them being at KR circle. (This gate also leads to the Club) After speaking to the watchman at the club gate I found out that if one wants to reach MG road one has to cross the park and reach the other gate which is about a 1 Km walk. (No autos are allowed inside the park, but other vehicles are allowed to use the park as a short cut)

My previous escapade at LPL had proved that my fitness levels were not quite up to the mark and I felt that a 1 Km walk would do no harm to it. After a brisk 20 min trudge I spotted the gate and heaved a sigh of relief. Suddenly a hoot (or something to that effect) coming from the left hand side startled me. I looked to the left and found myself looking at the face of a eunuch dressed in a salwar kameez half hiding behind a tree. I was dumbfounded. It was only 7:30 pm (A similar road is there in Hyd near Parade grounds (close to Paradise) and it is advised not to go onto that road after 10 pm since the ground is used as an open air brothel with the ground walls serving as protection from view) I quickly looked away and marched towards the gate. At the next signal I asked the way to M.G road and somehow managed to get there with no further hick-ups. I spent around half an hour at a net café and then felt it was about time to have a look at the much hyped Bangalore crowd. As I jostled my way toward Brigade road, I noticed that the crowd lives up to expectations. No doubt a FC road would beat it hands down and a KP road would impel surrender without a fight, but when one is used to Hyderabad Central for a year then one can’t complain. Bangalore has colour; not only the clothes but even the shops do not shirk from the iridescent. And it does remind you of Pune to a certain extent.
My bus was at 10 pm and it was getting to be 8:30 pm. Time to get back to my room. The first auto-wala refused, the second auto-wala refused, the third auto wala was a character:

Me: KR circle
He: You one people or two?

This question put me into a quandary. Was he a soothsayer in disguise able to see my future girlfriend and asking me this question or was he actually drunk and seeing things?

Me: me 1 person
He: Okay, how much you give?

This was weird, usually the auto wala gives you his estimation and then you bargain…

Me: Twenty rupees (I felt like a prostitute telling her latest client her ‘bhav’)
He: Okay you give 130/- rs and I ll take you

Me: 130/- for what?
He: Its Sunday night

Ya as if he was going to give me a special good night puppy after dropping me….

Me (smirking) : Dude I came walking from there
He (smirking harder) : then you go back also walking

I felt like giving him a ,,l,, but restrained myself and walked away mouthing expletives which I am sure he would not want to write home about…..

My walk back to the club turned into a jog and later into a sprint as not a single autowala was willing to take me to KR circle….
And my biggest fear was yet to come.
I had to walk through that park again…all alone

Opposite the gate I saw a poloiceman standing. I went up to him…

Me : Sir, KR circle ?
He : straight thru the park
Me (suffering from mild paranoia) : is it safe?
He : straight, KR circle straight

Damn this language problem

It was nearing 9:00 pm and I had no option but to go through the park else wait for a bus to take me there and risk missing my bus back to Hyd…..
I was reminded of Shyamalan’s “The Village” where the actress (I don’t kno her name but she s acting in his next movie too) has to cross a forest which is supposed to be filled with demons and devils… But here I was to cross a park infested with prostitutes and what not. And in the movie the actress had the added advantage of being blind. What was I supposed to do?
Nevertheless I mustered all the courage that was left and entered the park. I kept to the center of the road and kept looking back to see if any vehicle was coming to provide me with the much required light. I dint look right nor left and don’t know whether anything fishy was going on or no. I somehow reached the club and packed my bags and made my way to the bus stop.
By now I was desperate to get an auto and reach the bus stop with no more anxieties. But no way, again the autowalas’ reluctance to take me to my destinaton frusterated me. Another 1 Km walk on a lonely road and now with an additional baggage of 5 kilos. This was similar to the situation some years back where Gopal and team carted 2 Exide batteries from the gates of IIT powai to the the convocation center. But then we were in a group and there was the purpose of achieving something. Here was me, frail and batterred with injury limping towards the station all alone. (The infamous Hyd traffic has had the chance of giving my bike and me a tough time in the rainy season)
At the tailend of my walk, I saw a bus at the next signal. As I ran towards it, my shaving kit fell out of my bulging bag. I ran back picked it up and then jumped into the bus.

Me: M.G bus stand

The bus conductor (BC) eyed the packet in my hand as if it was a bomb.

B.C: hdiofgojgojgoa stand

Damn this language problem
I got out of the bus not wanting to risk reaching another stand.
As I saw the bus pass me, an empty auto wala zipped passed me.

Me: Rickshaw……. (please stop)
He (stopping) : Where??
Me: MGBS
He: ????
Me: Bus stand, big bus stand, main bus stand….
He: Kahan jaana hai???
Me (finally someone who knows can talk and understand the same language) Woh KSRTC ke buses jaate hai na… waha jaana hai
He: KSRTC stand bolo na… 30 rs/ lagenge
Me: Chaloooooooooooooo……..

I finally reached the stand with 10 minutes to spare but the ordeal that I had faced to get there was something I had never expected.

Well, it took me around 3 hours writing this and just wanted to say that in my opinion Pune is the easiest and safest place for any outsider to be in. Even a 5 year toddler would have no issues with being left alone on M.G road. (Pune) I know one evening is too small a time to pass judgements or offer opinions on a city, but of what I saw of Bangalore is that it is a two edged sword; a lot of colour and youth sprinkled with a touch of foreboding. And now it is no surprise to me that those call center mishaps happened; because the scope is very high for it. An epitome of this is M.G road (B’lore) where ones side is streamed with well-lit shops and thronged with people and the other side is hidden in the shadows of the trees behind which one is unaware of what evil is lying!!!

The servers are still not up…
Hail $@Ty@m ...

Actually, infact and therefore...

2009-01-21T17:14:00.000-08:00

After a much-needed holiday - with sun, sand, sea and much more - its back to the land of chilly winds and fields of snow. The winters here on campus are depressingly dull, but the women are hot, so college is tolerable. I sometimes wonder how they must be surviving in Greenland.

Last Sunday, I drove down to New York to pick up a friend of mine from the airport. While waiting in the arrival section, I noticed lots of anxious relatives waiting impatiently for their loved ones. And as those tired travellers slowly wheeled out their luggage, they were being greeted with smiles, hugs, kisses and what not. Reminded me of the opening scene of 'Love Actually'.

In such dark times of terror and gloom, it might bring some cheer to your heart. Really sweet. Do watch it.

Air Tell

2008-12-13T15:03:00.000-08:00

Close friends will know that I have always been a big fan of AirTel. Ever since I got my first cell phone, I have been their loyal customer, but when one can afford to rope in great stalwarts like A. R Rahman, Sachin Tendulkar and Shahrukh Khan, who wouldn't be attracted to the brand.

So today, out of sheer nostalgia, I was trotting around YouTube searching for AirTel advertisements, and I came across some real gems. Just goes to show what marketing and advertisements can do for a brand!

Embedded are top 3 that I liked the most.

Enjoy!

#3

#2

#1

Update [Mar 15th, 2009] -AirTel continues its brilliant advertising spree. I was in splits of laughter when I saw this one today.

East-West Crossings

2008-11-30T19:01:00.001-08:00

Still pondering....

A-maze-d

2008-10-17T20:05:00.001-07:00

At the mid-point of a grueling semester. 8 weeks and a few more days to go before the semester comes to a close. In between a much needed Thanks-giving break beckons.

Phew! To say things have been hectic would be an understatement. Last month, the IGSA had the annual Indian festival, called Aghaaz and a lot of my time went into rehearsals for the dance. Thankfully, that concluded without much ado.

My friend from Engineering days became a father yesterday. I actually dont know how to react. I wonder what my parents will have to say when I inform them this weekend. They were pretty surprised when Bunty announced his wedding!!!

How things have changed in the last three years. Yesterday afternoon, I was walking towards class and as I waited to cross the road, a small child in a pram was looking at the IST (Information Sciences and Technology) building which stood impressively on the other side of the road, and was trying to pronounce 'Technology'.

"Tekno" ... "logee"

"Technology", his mother helped him out.

"Mom, what's Teknologee?"

"Computers and stuff", his mother patiently replied as she wheeled the pram across the road.

As I crossed the road along with them, I couldn't but help smiling to myself. Inspite of two years of IT experience under my belt, I probably would not have been able to hazard a better reply than that lady.

For, most of my time in Hyderabad was spent either trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, or travelling between Hyderabad and Pune. In the midst of all this, I did a little work, made some new friends and spent a lot of money.

A reckless event however, forced me to think a bit seriously about my future and that's what prompted me to apply to Penn State and come here. Fourteen months down the line, I dont think I have made a bad decision. Things happen for a reason, they say.

I came across this beautiful speech by Harsha Bhogale a few months ago. It truely inspired me when I saw it.

More later...

Aghaaz

2008-09-30T19:42:00.000-07:00

Turning Over a New Leaf

2008-08-26T21:01:00.000-07:00

Its begun to fall. Well, actually Fall has begun. Suddenly, the campus is bustling with activity and all the rigmaroles of graduate life have begun all over again. While I waited for the 'Blue Loop' bus at Downtown, I must have fallen in love at least ten times. The One Above seems to be making them better every year.

The Blue Loop was packed like a can of sardines. I entered cautiously, careful not to step on any pretty toes. But once the bus started, I experienced jolts and jerks akin to those one would encounter at Indigo - the local disc. Ironically, 'Feel the Vibration' was blaring from the speakers. Who needs an Indigo when one can 'do the grind' on the way to class.

Goan Rhapsody

2008-08-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

This Friendship's Day, I tried making one of my favourite sweet dishes - Bebinca. Its a Goan speciality and is really tasty. But it takes quite some time to make, so attempt at leisure.

Ingredients: (serves 10 people)

Eggs–12
250 gms plain Flour (Maida)
700 ml thick Coconut milk / cream
Ground Nutmeg powder -1 tspoon

Ground Cinammon powder -1 tspoon
200 ml ghee / Hydrogenated fat
1/2 kg Sugar
Salt - 1 tspoon.
¼ cup water if required

Preparation:

Cake mixture:

Mix the coconut milk and sugar together and stir till the sugar is completely dissolved

To the flour add the coconut milk, salt, nutmeg and cinammon

In another bowl, whisk the egg yolks till creamy

Add the eggs to the flour and mix well, making sure that no lumps are left

If the cake mixture does not seem smooth enough, a maximum of a ¼ cup of water can be added

Bake:

Heat a pan on the fire till smoking

Add 1 cup of the cake mixture and swirl around till it looks like a thick omelette

Cook over a low fire, swirling the pan frequently till cooked and fairly dry on top

Transfer to oven and let it cook slowly till browned on top

Remove from oven add a tablespoon of ghee and 1 more layer of the cake mixture

Return to oven and grill till brown

Repeat this procedure till all cake mixture is finished

When it has cooled slightly, the cake will shrink from the sides of the pan

Invert slowly on to a serving dish

The top should be a nice toasted brown colour

Serve hot or cold. Both taste delicious.

Funda Number 14

2008-07-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

Anecdoted by Pranav 'Wodehouse' Bhandarkar - an incident that occurred just before the Roger Water's show in Mumbai on 18th Feb 2007

Quote

Btw There is this amazing incident that i had hitherto forgotten to document. And hence without any further ado let me detail the events as it unfolded. We were waiting in a long serpentine queue to get into the concert. Our reasons for not minding the length of this long queue were two fold, 1) we were quite at the head of the queue 2) As the length of the crew increased, our eyes were afforded a scrumptiuous feast. However, our very own Siddharth 'Funda' Advani was taken aback by the extremely bold females of B'bay flaunting their doting boyfriends (who were more clothed than their female counterparts) . Soon his emotions overflowed out of his mouth, when he in his own inimitable style uttered," Fuck!! If I was a father I would never let my daughter come here" . Next moment, Gopal and I were in splits. There was this middle aged gentleman standing next to us who was stunned by the profundity of the statement. In a swift motion he turned and looked at Advani in total amazement and waited in that position of the next 12000 miliseconds. Its a pity, the NDTV cameras had just left (they interviewed a group of friends from b'lore who were standing just next to us) and did not capture this Zen Moment!!! . Seriously NDTV coverage is going to the dogs man!!!

Unquote

Hmm, after having spent almost a year in the States, I wonder whether that funda needs to be changed....

Cake Bake

2008-07-12T17:40:00.001-07:00

Yes! I finally baked a cake. Okay okay, I used the Pillsbury ready made mix, and most of the credit should go to them, but still the hand that bakes the cake, gets to cut it and eat it too.

Well, after having used this blog as a medium to describe a few of the happenings out here at Penn State, I am now planning to add a few recipes of my favourite dishes. And yes, these, have been tried and tested. So here goes, the recipe for the chocolate fudge cake / brownie. Its pretty easy since its all ready made.

1. Buy Pillsbury Fudge Supreme Packet

2. Grease bottom of pan (metal / glass) with unsalted butter

3. Follow instructions on packet to mix the contents together

4. Beat mixture well

5. Bake for 40-45 min at 350 degrees Fahrenheit (175 degrees Celcius)

6. Serve hot / cold (Both taste delicious)

I am sure that after eating this cake you would, in Jim Carrey style in Mask, say "Smoking!!!"

Tumhare paas kya hai?

2008-07-07T20:40:00.000-07:00

As the country celebrated its Independence Day, I spent the long weekend watching the drama that unfolded on center court of the All England Club.

The year - 2008. Wimbledon - the Mecca of Tennis. The stage was set. Two of the most potent forces in World Tennis today, were heading to meet each other in the Finals for the third consecutive time.

Roger Federer - genie on grass - beat Marat Safin in the Semis and looked like Harry Potter unleashing spells from his racket, making the ball dance all over the court.

"Mobiliarbus!"
15-0

"Wingardium Leviosa!"
30-0

"Impedimenta!"
40-0

"Expulso!"
Game, set and match Federer.

Safin could well have sat amongst the spectators and watched the match.

On the other hand, Rafeal Nadal used sheer brute force to pound Schuettler to set up an exciting encounter with the five time defending champion.

Records were all there to be broken. Nadal chasing a double - French and Wimbledon - in the same year, achieved last by Borg in 1980; and Federer going for a 6th consecutive Wimbledon title aiming to surpass Borg's five in a row.

The all-Williams women's finals on Saturday seemed straight out of a saans-bahu soap. Filled with emotion and drama, it raised TV ratings, was conspicuous for its unwanted skin-show and dangling earrings that probably weighed more than all the rackets used by both players; but in the end both players put together merrily walked away with 2.7 million pounds

On the eve of the much-awaited and much-talked-about Men's Final, I happened to be watching Big B's Deewar and as Big B in his stentorian voice delivered his famous 'Tumhare paas kya hai?' dialogue, I attempted to imagine how, given an opportunity to star in a Bollywood movie, would the Rafa-Fed dialogue flow.

Fed : Aaj mere paas number 1 ranking hai, 5 Wimbledon title hai, bank-balance hai, bungla hai, gaadi hai... kya hai tumhare paas?

Rafa (with a pause) : Mere paas 3 French open titles hai.....

Nadal being the genie's nemesis on clay for the past 3 years, Federer seemed the perfect 'Angry Young Man' and Nadal having lost to Federer on grass the last 2 years seemed determined to prove that he could defeat the genie on his 'home' turf.

The match began. Federer started off slowly and lost the first set. He then squandered a 3-0 lead to lose the 2nd set too. This is when true champions dig deep within to prove their mettle. Federer started to mix his game, coming to the net once in a while and otherwise hitting inside-out forehand winners from the baseline.

Third set, on serve, Federer leading 5-4, the Rain Gods made their present felt.

Intermission.

The delay seemed to work for Federer. He seemed charged up and pushed the set to a tiebreaker which he won comfortably. The fourth set moved into another tiebreaker. Nadal messed up a 5-2 lead but managed to get to Championship point.

The camera focussed on Federer's face and he had a wry smirk on his face. It was as if Federer in his nonchalant demeanor was saying to Nadal,

"Rafa, ek baat samajh lo... Wimble-ke-Don ko haraana mushkil hi nahi, namumkin hai"

A fast and furious first serve saved Federer match-point. Nadal managed to get to another Championship point but the Federer serve - as always - got him out of trouble again. Federer went on to win the 4th set too and with a roar he looked towards the family box.

The 5th set was the perfect climax to this spectacular thriller. Stiffled exclaims from the crowd, hand over faces in the family box and tennis of the highest quality on center court.

8-7, Nadal leading, and at Championship point, his third of the match.

A superb Federer backhand saves him. If Federer had gone to Moogie he could well have told Nadal,

"Ja Ja, dho ke aa"

Deuce.

A surprise first serve to the Federer forehand got Nadal another Championship point.
If Nadal had gone to Moogie he could have retorted,

"Bachche ki jaan jinga"

Advantage Nadal. He had to make this one count. You dont get too many chances against champions. As he prepared to serve, Nadal was probably recalling his Julius Ceasar where Brutus tells Cassius

There is a tide in the affairs of men.

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their lifes

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

Nadal serves again to the Federer forehand. The rally ends unexpectedly as Federer punches the ball into the net.

Game over, a new champion is born.

The more things change, the more they seem to stay the same. It was the great left-handed John Mcenroe who ended Borg's winning streak and yet again it is a left-hander who ends Federer's winning streak. But all is not over. Life moves on. The king has been dethroned and a new one has rightly taken his place.

If Becker ruled during the late 80s and Sampras during the 90s, it was Federer for the last 5 years. Only time will tell whether Federer will have the tenacity to come out from this defeat and do what both Becker and Sampras couldnt do - that Achilles' heel - win the French open.

All of us go through times of triumph and tribulations. All of us have an Achilles's heel - that one thing that we think we cannot do. But it is in adversity that we derive strength to reach our goals, to achieve what we think we could never achieve. And we should ask ourselves that question,

"Mere paas kya hai?"

And the answer should give us the strength to fight yet another day, to win another of life's battles.

For a Few Dollars More

2008-07-01T20:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a couple of friends and I were strolling back home when we decided to get some quick groceries done. As we browsed around the aisles, my friend - who had just finished off at the gym - picked up a huge can of water and started to gulp down the nectar of life to quench his thirst. We began to tease him saying that he would have to pay a dollar for that entire can of water and he could have waited till we got home.

Ironically, today afternoon at lunch, I happened to be googling 'Swades' and chanced upon this heartwrenching scene from the movie. Beautifully shot, this scene still brings a tear to the eye.

The coin exchanges hands...
The child counts his 'pachees paise's...
The camera slowly pans upwards as the train gradually draws out of the station.....

'Paani lo paani, Pachees paise ka ek glass'

Bunty ki Shaadi

2008-06-21T22:28:00.000-07:00

"Kaun Bunty? Aur Bubli ka kya hua?" - you think. But before you Miss-understand, let me elaborate.

Last weekend I happened to get a chance to watch Rockford and was taken for a trip down memory lane. I never had the privilege of staying in a boy's hostel but the twelve years that I spent at St. Vincent's will always be special, and as every scene of the movie unfolded, I felt a strong connection return towards my alma mater.

Time has flown. But it seems only yesterday that I stood at the main gate for the first time. The obvious fear of the first day at school, completely over-awed looking at the sprawling lawns, spellbound by the gargantuan building that stood magnificently beyond them. Will I ever come out, if I enter this strange place, my childish mind wondered.

Rich in tradition, austere in tutelage and spirited in conduct, Vincents was the perfect place to build character; and surrounded by teachers of the highest caliber made learning all the more easy. Yes, we learnt it all there. From developing secret crushes on the primary school library teacher to enjoying chutney sandwiches at the small canteen to migrating to high school with mixed feelings, partially disappointed that we could no longer attend library class but equally eager to see whether in fact the grass was greener on the other side of the ground.

High school was more than we could imagine. Friends were made, groups were formed and St. Annes' girls were hated. PT periods were spent in valiant football games with the sole aim being to thrash the opponent, short breaks were an opportunity to attack your partner's dabba, lunch breaks were used to develop newer forms of cricket with rules that had the potential to put Twenty Twenty to shame. School bells were awaited with bated breath and hushed countdowns, followed by shouting and yelling and races to the rickshaw to see who catches the window seats.

Repeated rehearsals in the Gulati Hall in anticipation of the Annual day, competetive team selections inorder to win the best House Trophy at Sports Day, noisy discussions in class regarding prospective destinations for the annual Class Picnic but eventually landing up at Ryewood Park, Lonavala, planning ambitious plans for Diwali and Christmas vacations followed by last minute studying for Final Exams. Yes we learnt more than what we had imagined.

The penultimate year of High School brought along its own share of drama. The ten day National Cadet Corps (NCC) Camp came up and we walked away with the best March Past tropy under the noses of a very unexpecting audience. Competition stiffened in the later half of the year, tuition classes were attended, bringing along interaction with the fairer sex. Clandestine relations were discussed, rumours spread, pranks played.

Final year of High School. We won the marching competition at Centrafest trouncing every troupe in sight and this time around we were definitely not under-dogs. Centrafest was not only used by many to discover their hidden talents but also to show off in front of the now slowly-but-surely developing babes, an opportunity to get back at those Bishopites of whom we were a tad jealous. Life was not fair. Why did they get a Socials and a chance to openly date those chicks from Helenas? Why were we not given an opportunity to allow our two left feet to demonstrate their skills? Why couldnt we have a Fete? We also wanted to show that below that stiff Vincentian upper lip lay a warm heart capable of amorous sensations. Fate conspired and yet we aspired. And why did Nature have to be so cruel? The very bevy that was once considered a pain in the neck was now causing us to go weak at the knees.

And as I turn to those pages of erstwhile days, I notice that friends have come and gone. Some remembered and most forgotten. But admist all the rigmarole that school life brings along, a few friendships have stood the test of time. And amongst those friends is Bunty aka Anna or Kela to many. I have had the privilege of being his partner (not life partner otherwise this blog would have swung a different way) during Junior College, and as is his wont, he truely has been the source of joy and mirth for a lot of us. His penchant for Hindi professors is still vividly spoken about at School. Some thought he was their right hand man, some thought he was Mr. Bechara. His answer 'Das is in St. Vincents' almost caused the German teacher to give up teaching, but yet she persevered. His Girme gaffe has brought the roof down on many a reunions. Truely his antics are beyond the publishing capacity of this blog.

And yet despite being the cynosure of mirth amongst us friends, he truely stands first among equals. He shot to fame at the AISSMS College of Pharmacy and Fate so had it that I unexpectedly landed up at the same college. It was here that I truely got a chance to see Bunty evolve from the Pandora's Boxer to become the Shahrukh of his department. The perfect TDH (tall, dark, handsome) hero for a desi version of a M&B (Mills & Boon), this lad stole many a heart and then lost his to the soon-to-be-missus. With Lady Luck by his side, he 'synapse'd to success bringing laurels to his department with every venture. Later on, the Madhavan of our group proudly plucked a Purdue admit and pranced his way to glory. Even there he continues to break new grounds. His cricketing prowess have been overshadowed by his hitherto hidden singing skills as he continues to win Antakshari competition after competition. And if that was not enough, he salsas his way on and off stage with finesse.

And today when our very own Bunty is about to tie the connubial knot with the love of his life, I feel sorry that I cannot be a part of this happy occasion. From those 'Sunny' days when we used to roam DP road checking out babes under the pretence of shopping, to being on the same athletics team bringing home medals for our school, to hear Moogie yell out 'Dastan Abdul Narayan Dilruba' as we stood around his table, to being introduced to the soon-to-be missus everytime I bumped into them during college, to enjoying cuppas of coffee at PANGS meets at Chandni Chowk every weekend, Bunty has been the part of many a happy times.

Shakespeare said

Now join your hands
And with your hands
Your hearts

And as two hearts are about to begin to beat as one, I wish this perfect couple all the joys and pleasures of a happy married life. And as you start out on this wonderful journey together, I hope that the bliss you feel today stays forever. May the love grow stronger and deeper.

Bunty, today you truely are a complete man.

God Bless.

Amen.

Taste of India

2008-04-19T17:52:00.000-07:00

Wrote this article for 'Sankalp' - presented by Association for India's Development:

I came to Penn State in the Fall of 2007 to pursue my Masters. My seniors had made me cognizant of the huge Indian stronghold at Penn State, thus relieving me off a lot of my fears. But it was only when I actually came in contact with the 'Association for India's Development' chapter at State College did I really understand the power of 'togetherness'.

My association with AID began on a warm sunny September afternoon, when I volunteered to be a part of the food-stall at the Beaver Stadium during the Penn State vs Florida International football game. We sold hot-dogs and water bottles, all the while feeling appeased by the fact that while PSU was thrashing Florida, the money we were earning was going for a noble cause.

On the occasion of International Night organized by Global Connections, AID volunteers put up a small dance show at the Medler Field. As A.R Rahman's voice reverberated throughout the stadium, I began to recognize a new meaning of patriotism. Before coming to the US, my idea of patriotism was very abstract and vague. But leaving one's family and homeland gives a new perspective to a lot of things.

Initially starting off with a vision statement "Problems are interconnected, so must be the solution.", AID, as a whole, has been a great eyeopener for me. The weekly Community Service Hour (CSH) on Thursdays has now become a strong medium of connecting with a facet of India which I knew existed, but never ever gave a thought to. At CSH, problems like 'Farmer’s suicide' were rigorously discussed, videos on 'Right to Information' were played, site visits from Parivartan to Prerna were described, regular updates on existing projects like 'Jagrutha Mahila Sanghatan' were given. All these activities made me realise that inspite of being away from our country, there are many channels through which we can still remain attached to it. The umbilical cord need not be broken.

But AID is not only about CSH and fund raising. In a short span of 6 months, I have also been a witness to a plethora of fun and frolic. The AIDSC annual Diwali gathering made all us freshers feel as if we were back home celebrating with our families. It was an evening where all of us came together to celebrate and wish each other joy and happiness for the new year.

The Food Fest is a very important event and a platform through which AID attempts to reach out to people from different walks of life. Being a part of AID has made a huge impact on my short period as a student at Penn State. To many, AID's activities may seem like shifting sand against the tide, but I truely believe that "If you build it, they will come..."

V-here are you?

2008-02-13T20:44:00.000-08:00

Here is a V-deo that is apt for the day. Reminded me of Rose Day at college. The choice of song is also perfect. Took me a couple of times of watching to actually share the sentiments of the protagonist. Poor chap. I only wish the ending had been a bit better. He missed out on a real looker.

And if that were not enough do check out the original

Thought for the day: Make love and play safe.

A Ball of a Party

2008-01-01T15:31:00.000-08:00

After a brief period at the tail end of the semester, where caffeine intake had hit astronomical levels, sleep had become a phenomenon that could only be dreamt off and the posterior had begun to hurt just by the thought of sitting, it was finally holiday time and a time to plan what to do for New Years.

Ever since I first visited New York City a few months ago, I wanted to attend the famous Ball drop at Time Square on New Year's Eve, especially since it was going to be exactly a 100 years since the first ever ball dropped to usher in the new year at Times Square.

And so after much ado about nothing, finally five of us Penn Staters reached NYC at noon and immediately made our way to Times Square - 43rd & 7th (43rd street and 7th avenue) - eager to be in time to capture a good view point. It was around 3 pm and we were welcomed by a huge batallion of law enforcers. A few carefully worded questions to one such member revealed that neither back-packs nor alcohol were allowed into the arena. One of my friends was carrying a back-pack inside which were carefully hiding 8 cans of chilled beer. Imagine his despondence when he realised that he would have to throw away the beer inorder to get into the viewing arena. After having carefully deposited 7 cans (he slipped 1 beer under his jacket) into the nearest trash-can, we returned. After being casually frisked we were let into 1 of the many pens that had been created for the event. It was 4 pm and the crowd had already filled up so much that the closest we could get was 47th & 7th. (An hour later and another PSU group informed us their pen as 55th & 7th)

The first one hour we soaked in the bubbling atmosphere around us and the dazzling lights emanating from the video screens sprawled all over the place. But soon it started to get dark and a sharp winter breeze began to make its presence felt amongst us. At 6 pm the 1,212-pound crystal ball was set atop the flagpole on the roof of One Times Square. The show was about to begin.

Apart from pre-recorded music there were a lot of live performances by celebrities I had never heard off. All in all the music was quite a disappointment. Gasolina (Daddy Yankee) and Bring it On (Lenny Kravitz) were the only numbers that were worth shaking a leg to. An announcement claimed that a certain Carrie Underwood was going to be the star of the night and would appear later on in the night.

By around 7 pm I started getting bored and hungry. I looked at my watch a millionth time calculating the time left to midnight, and then re-sunk my face into my jacket in another vain attempt to dodge the cold breeze. Suddenly I noticed a movement to my right and I looked up. A couple clad in black was causing a bit of a stir amongst the group of people next to me. They were cutting across the crowd claiming that they needed to go to their hotel across the street. But as soon as they reached a spot in front of us - which was the best vantage point in the pen - they stopped and started enjoying the show. Smart alecks, I thought as I carefully started checking out the two of them. The guy was short with short hair and looked like an Italian romeo of sorts. The girl was a real looker. Curly black hair let loose, wheatish complexion and large round earings, clad in a black leather jacket and blue denims. After about 15 minutes of clapping and cheering, both of them suddenly decided to try out some moves they well might have planned in their hotel room. Smooching, cuddling, nuzzling, back-bending followed by some more smooching, cuddling and nuzzling. Suddenly I din't feel cold anymore. All important parts of me began to feel warm as I witnessed this unprecedented display of affection. I carefully started taking mental notes on 'How to make out' with a concentration that would augment me better if attained during lectures as well.

The couple continued to lock lips for the next 20 minutes completely oblivious to the crowd around them. Other couples tried to compete by hugging and swaying to the music but they were no match for the fiery couple in front of me. A few disgruntled people suggested on booking them a hotel room. With bated breath I waited for them to mate.. oops... sorry... waited for them to separate. Suddenly the girl opened her eyes and noticed that I was staring at them (lips). I knew she knew (FRIENDS style) I was looking, but I looked on undeterred. I felt my biceps could handle romeo incase a brawl ensued. But the girl instead of unlocking her lips just stepped, swerved and turned; and the guy not too keen on unlocking followed like a pomeranian would follow his master, and before I could say 'Romeo' they were lost in the crowd. I heaved a sigh and looked at my watch again.

Four more hours yet to go and finally I decided to give my legs a bit of a rest. I sat down on the road only to realise that the cold surface was beginning to freeze my posterior. I quickly got up and started jogging to keep the warmth flowing through my body. But the more I exherted myself to keep warm, the more I could feel the energy being drained out of me. I realised I had to store my resources. My friends started sipping the one can of beer that they had clandestinely smuggled into the arena. I refrained. I needed hot coffee. I leaned over the railing of the pen and looked up and down the pathway. A line of cops separated me from the nearest coffee shop. I had a good mind to hail one of the cops and suggest him to get a cup of coffee for me. But this was not India.

Three hours and temperature hovering around 0 degrees Celcius. Torture. Time began to drag. My mind for want of something began to wander. The analogy related to the theory of relativity which I had read somewhere in school came to mind, "When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity". I wanted to write my own analogy, "When a guy watches a couple making out in the cold for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him stand alone in the cold for a minute, and its longer than any hour".

My body slowly but surely started to give way. Numbness had started to set in. My legs started to cramp. I sat down once again. All I wanted right then was a warm cup of coffee to keep me going. I began to realise what fortitude and commitment it must be taking our soldiers on the border to endure inclement weather conditions and yet be able to sustain intense levels of alertness for never-ending periods of time.

Gradually the mind too started to lose its ability to maintain sanity. Here we were, 5 of us, after having woken up at 6 am in the morning, travelled 4 hours, walked for 2 hours across half of Manhattan, and then stood for almost 10 hours, just to chant "10, 9, 8...." in chorus with 1 million other spectators at the world's biggest party. Just for those 10 seconds of glory we spent 1 full day of torture. Is this worth the trouble? I began to lose my sensibility. Was I hallucinating? I looked at my watch again. Half an hour to go. "Hold on Sid, hold on!" I told myself and stood up again. Twists, turns, jiggles, deep breaths; all possible movements that could keep my mind and body in sync for somemore time. 15 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes...

Last 5 minutes... "Imagine" by John Lennon began to play. I let the lyrics sink into the depths of my soul. "Imagine all the people living for today...."

1 minute to go. The countdown began.... 60, 59, 58..... I shouted and jumped with hands high up in the air at every number. Last 10 seconds... 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Fireworks exploded into the dark sky and a great roar of cheer followed from the denizens of Time Square. It was 2008. Finally. The pain emanating from all parts of my body had suddenly disappeared as I pranced up and down yelling and shrieking "Happy New Year!!!" And then I felt it. I felt that it WAS truly worth the experience. Because I realised that our lifes too follow a similar pattern? We struggle the whole day wondering whether at the end of the day was it worth the effort. What did I gain? We work our asses off the whole year, just so that we get that 10% hike in our salaries. We wake up every morning hoping that today will be the day when our fortunes will take a turn for the better. There are times when we are totally down and out, defeated. We perform at the best of our ability and still meet with failure. We want to do something else but can't because we are check-mated by that conspirator called Fate. When we feel so vulnerable that all we wish for is a miracle. Some quirk of fate that will set the die rolling in our favour...

But as they say, "Fortune favours the brave." So heres to a Brave 2008. Wishing all of you a Happy and a Joyous New Year. Success to all your dreams, goals and endeavours. Keep the faith!!!

Jab They Met

2007-11-15T21:28:00.000-08:00

As predicted by the Weather Channel, State College and me were welcomed to a snowy Diwali, and being a Friday, I had a early morning shift at my part-time job. As I made my rounds of the computer labs on campus, enjoying the novel experience of having frozen flakes rather than wet droplets fall on my head, I looked forward to a couple of Diwali parties that I had been invited to on the weekend. The first one was a pooja cum pot-luck party organised by the IGSA seniors, and becoming notorious for landing up at such parties sans self-prepared food, I decided to make my favourite 'Sooji ka Halwa' to make amends at the start of a new year. The party, being part of a pooja, went off smoothly without much ado and I went back home on Friday night wondering what the second party on Saturday would have to offer. For the second party, organised by AID (Association for India's Development) of which I happen to be an out-standing (literally) member, was infact a surprise send-off party for one of the more active members, Anirban, who was going back to India to become Raymonds, a 'complete' man.

Being fond of springing surprises myself, I headed to the party enthusiastically with Psmith and friends in tow. We arrived at the apartment only to be welcomed by a jam-packed hall of shrieking women and a surprisingly sedate bunch of men. At parties its usually the other way round. Maybe it was the US culture getting to all of them. A brief inquiry revealed to us that the betrothed couple had yet not made an entry and were apparantly at some mall nearby doing some last minute shopping. To while away the time, I did what I usually do best at parties these days - attack the food.

An hour later, and still no sight of the couple. Frantic calls revealed that they were still at the mall. A few jokes regarding the existence of the mall were cracked (not by me). After a second round of snacking, we were finally warned that Anirban and Sonali (better half) were on the way up to the apartment. All lights were switched off, the main-door left slightly ajar and while all of us waited in the darkness for 'the' moment to arrive, a enterprising guy waited near a light source to flick it on at the said moment. Faint noises outside permeated through the hallway. The door was pushed open from outside.

"SURPRISE"

The poor couple almost collapsed. One doesn't normally expect to walk into a room in the US and have 50 Indians jump at one yelling 'SURPRISE'. Having got over the initial shock, the couple were really thrilled to see so many people come to wish them. Once the hullaballoo died down, it was time for the main attraction of the evening - dinner. Pulao, kadi pakoda, veg tawa, paneer bhurji and dahi wada were safely deposited into my stomach with sublime ease. Helping myself to a nice portion of rasa malai, I made my way to the conglomeration that had formed around Anirban. A few questions were being thrown at him and he was doing his best to cope with them.

"So, when is the marriage?" one guy asked.

"26th November," he replied nodding, more to affirm to himself.

"So your last single Diwali," Psmith observed.

"Yeah, err.. kind of."

"So, how did you two meet?" one woman queried.

"Oh, that's a looong story. Maybe some other day."

There comes a time when even the greatest of men perform the FIM (footh-in-mouth) operation. Anirban could easily have said, "In college" and I am sure no one would have ventured to delve further. But when one over-emphasises a small word like 'long', it is but natural that a certain level of curiousity is aroused.

"No, no, Anirban, we want to hear the loong story,' the woman said.

"We have all the time in the world," I quipped.

"PEOPLE, PEOPLE! Anirban is going to tell us his love story," another woman shrieked, almost deafening me.

And thus, the mehfil was set.

Video 1 - When

Notice how the guy keeps checking with his better half making sure he gets the dates right.

In 2003 (turns) Right?

Ya.

On Nov 9th (turns).... Right?

Ya.

The camera then slowly pans to Blue Terror, details about whom will be revealed later.

Video 2 - How

Poor chap began his story. Notice Psmith, as right-hand man (literally) listening attentively.

Basically the story started with a random mail sent by better half.

Video 3 - What

The emails between male and female continued. The 'personal' email caused quite a stir. Note the 'aap ki bhi baari aayegi' quip by none other than Blue Terror.

Video 4 - Details

By this time I had become quite fed up with the whole 'You have got Mail' paraphernalia. For, my whole image of 'the perfect contemporary Indian lady' had started getting warped. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that most Indian women would not send a random email to some random guy asking him for details on xyz, not unless she had some motive behind her actions. Of course exceptions are there. You could always be a silly girl situated somewhere in a remote corner of Singapore and have no qualms in doling out friend requests on Orkut to naive IT professionals. But this is not the time for Singapore sagas. As I was saying, I smelt something fishy in the story.

So I asked, "How did you'll meet?"

I was immediately upbraided by everyone. Blue Terror said, "Fast forward mein mat dekh. Play mein dekh, play mein."

When a woman draped in a sari says something you obey. I shut up and switched back to play mode.

Video 5 - Who called up first

Video 6 - Who said 'what' first

Video 7 - Confessions

Video 8 - Her version

Now things began to make sense. The random mail was not random. The random guy was not random. Everything was planned. As the concept of 'the perfect contemporary Indian lady' began to conform to my original image, a disturbing thought crossed my mind. Was there an iota of possibility, a teeny weeny chance that a mysterious common friend had suggested to Miss Singapore that I would be a perfect match for her, that had prompted her to send me a friend request. I hurriedly gulped down the remains of my rasa malai.

Video 9 - Other bakras

The end

Moving to a topic of a more serious kind, CAT is around the corner. All the best to all you promising managers of the future. For others, enjoy the weekend, while I look forward to my thanksgiving break where I head to the city that never sleeps, New York.

A joke I thought of while on the bus the other day:

How would a NRI punju pronounce Bhool Bhulaiya?
Balle Balle !!!

Enough torture for today.

Khuda Afis
Om Shanti Om

A Little Bit of Magic

2007-10-31T10:12:00.000-07:00

Words should say the least.
The video says it all.

2 dB silence

2007-10-31T01:20:00.001-07:00

For the laughter and innate mirth
For the carefree life after birth

For the glossy gossips and stifled giggles
For the noisy dorms and silent cubicles

For spells of unbounded genius
For moments of gloomy sadness

For joyous shrieks and mad whoops
For moody tears and angered weeps

For open chapters of untold stories
For forgotten pasts and unfound glories

For boundaries that separate distance
For voices that cannot yet still the silence

Gym Whim

2007-10-28T00:10:00.000-07:00

Ever since I landed out here, there has been a growing paranoia on my part that the winter will tear me into pieces. And the people around me have done nothing much to make me feel better. In the very first month, I was attending an International Student Session where FREE coffee was being served (note the emphasis on free) and one localite eyed me from top to bottom and asked,

"So, how are you liking it here so far?"

"Oh, wonderful, the weather is so awesome."

"Dude, let the winter come!"

And with that he left me to enjoy my coffee. Enjoy my left foot. I had to do something. I decided to fight fire with flame. Or in this case, fight frost with flesh. I went and joined the gym. Now, I am sure that most of you are thinking that, any gym which entertained me as its regular customer, would very soon face complete abandonment by its existing customers and would eventually have to shut shop.

Even I thought the same thing.

So having some consideration for the health club authorities, I decided to frequent the two gyms located on campus on alternate days. In this way neither of the gyms would have to worry about closure. Having altruistically solved the problem of the authorities, I now decided to concentrate on setting my diet right.

Milk and eggs for breakfast
A double cheese sandwich for brunch
Chicken for lunch
Evening snack along with another glass of milk
Wholesome Indian food for dinner followed by another glass of milk

That should do the trick, I thought, as I made my way back home after a week of gruesome (for the on-lookers) workouts at the gym. Feeling very thrilled about the fact that very soon I would have biceps that would give Arnold Schwarzenegger something to think about, I continued with my diet and gym for a month and a half.

A week back I felt it was about time I took a snap of my rippling biceps and send them to all my well wishers back home. I borrowed my room-mates camera and asked a friend - who I believe is a good match for another friend of mine and who (former friend) we shall icognito name as Vnky - to take a picture of my beefed up arms.

Vnky - always willing to lend a helping hand (latter friend - please take note) - gladly agreed.

As I rolled up my sleeves and flexed my biceps, Vnky peered into the camera ready to take the shot. After having peered for a minute he looked up at me and then again looked into the camera. Apparantly, he seemed to be a professional at photography. Maybe he was trying to adjust the aperture thereby enabling optimum light to fall on the lens. Or maybe he was trying to capture the perfect angle that would make those biceps really stand out in the snap. All these thoughts made their way through my mind as I waited in plumb anticipation for the flash to go off.

After waiting for another 30 seconds, I started to grow a bit impatient. Agreed that I had worked out those biceps for more than a month now, but keeping them flexed for over 1 minute had started to take its toll on the muscle. When the discomfort had reached its pinnacle, I asked,

"Dude, what's taking so long?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing."

Vnky then deftly dug into the sidepocket of his jeans and removing his hankerchief, rubbed the LCD screen gently with it and again focussed the camera towards me.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing, nothing"

"Then why dont you just take the picture?"

Vnky finally revealed the embarassing dilemma he was facing.

"Sid, I cant make out your arm in the camera screen. Its too small."

(Sigh) Lifes like that.......

Mathamania

2007-10-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

Its been a long time now. Mundu knows a bit about it. But not all of it. No one else knows. So its about time I let the cat out of the bag......

Hahaha... that must have set the cat among the pigeons. I know what you all are thinking. No no, I have not fallen for anyone, although the theme of this season can definitely be called "Come Fall - In Love". The entire campus has turned a new colour (color) in the past month or so. But slowly winter is laying its creepy cold damp palm over the entire campus. Su ddenly, after a decent bout of warmth, the temperature has dropped well below 10 degrees Celcius and now I venture out of my house clad in five layers of clothes - vest, in-tshirt, shirt, sweater and over that a perpetually-on-me jacket. It just makes me wonder what will happen when it starts to snow. Apparantly I will look like Joey when he wore all of Chandler's clothes. But atleast then, I will look as if I have put on some weight. (My weight woes continue..)
But I have digressed from the point. Yes, its high time that I let the cat out of the bag. I have decided to try my hand at teaching part time. Its the highest paying job on campus and the least time consuming if you know the subject well. How I got to know about this job is interesting. I have already introduced you to the character who lives up to the eccentricities of Psmith - not quite the same eloquence though - and he currently holds the world record for holding the maximum number of part-time jobs at a given time. The joke going around now is that he is planning to complete his Masters in On-Campus Jobs because it seems that he spends more time at his jobs than his lectures. A couple of weeks back, while I was on the bus with him, he suggested:

Ps : Why dont you try your hand at tutoring?
SA : I dont think I can handle it.
Ps : If I can handle it, then anyone can. (Quite an optimist)
SA : Is it that easy? I dont think I have the time to sit and study for an additional subject?
Ps : I am just teaching Maths Undergrad like quadratic equations and stuff. Its cheap yaar.

My interest was now aroused. The next day I marched to the registration office and filled out the application form. A week later, I was called to attend a training where I was given some rules that I needed to follow like not maintaing any relation with the student, not divulging the student's identity etc etc. (Reason also why I havent gone into detail to describe the student)

Anyways, on Monday, I was assigned a student - she is a cheerleader. My manic monday suddenly became very 'cheer'ful. I had a horrible exam that evening in which I saw stars in all the questions and I just hope I pass. But then a decent paper on Tuesday made me feel a bit better and I looked forward to the first tutoring session scheduled for this Friday. We had scheduled to meet at the academic center in the afternoon. Now the mistake I had made while scheduling the meeting was not deciding on how she was to recognise me or vice versa. I had this image of a girl clad in cheer gear with pom poms in her hand waiting; and so I assumed that identifying her would not be a problem. Obviously, no girl in her senses would wear such an attire on a cold windy afternoon. As I entered the lobby, I noticed a petite brunette fully clad in clothes standing near the elevator on the lefthand side of the lobby.

Still holding the original image of a cheerleader in my mind, I ignored her and walked up the stairs to my right. But as I trudged up the long flight of stairs, the image of the cheerleader slowly started to blur - its amazing how a little labour makes the mind come down to planet earth - and I started to wonder whether it was possible that that brunette was my student. Apparantly she was. Having recognised me instantly, she had taken the elevator up and was waiting at the reception.

After a brief introduction, we sat down at the study table and I glanced through her text book.

SA : What is your syllabus for this semester?
CL : Chapters 7 - 12
SA : Ok, so where do you want me to start from?
CL : La pi taal rule

My initial reaction was that she was suggesting in broken Hindi that I train her for a role in Taal - a la Ash. I looked up at her in astonishment and my eyes were just beginning to goggle when common sense prevailed. CL was pretty and dint look a bit like AR ooops... AB.

SA : Pardon me.
CL : On Pg 145, La pi taal rule.

My respect for the American standard of education went up a couple of notches. Already in the past 2 months, I have had fundas hurtled at me by professors - incognizant of the deplorable concept of studying back in India where memorising formulae is more important than clearing basics - who merrily assume that we should know them (fundas) from undergrad; and now here was this first year student asking me to teach her some stupid rule which I had never heard off. I slowly turned to Pg 145 inwardly cursing Ps for having gotten me into this. However Pg 145 had a different story to tell. It had the heading as L'Hospital's Rule. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. My entire engineerng life I have wondered why L'Hospital was called L'Hospital but now never ever will I question his existence or his name.

SA : This rule?
CL : Ya
SA : How did you pronounce it?
CL : La pi taal. Its French

For the uninitiated, back in school I had picked up a 'How to learn French in 30 days' and when on the 30th day I found myself on the last line of the first page I gave up ever learning this sweet language. But now there is some hope. I might probably be able to pick up some French.

Anyways, back to the Mathamania. My travails were yet not over. I came across a sum where I had to differentiate sec square x. My mind jogged back to Moogie's classes.

"Derivative ke liye, aage udi marta, ek kamti hota"

I contemplated on translating this to CL. Let see. How would I say it?

"For derivative, take a jump in front and then reduce by one"

I then decided against it. She would probably think that I was trying to give her instructions on her next dance lessons for cheerleading. So I continued with the problem.

"So it becomes 2*sec(x) into the derivative of sec (x)"

I suddenly stopped. What was the derivative of sec (x) ? I couldn't remember. Damn. Lets see if I can get out of this embarassing situation. Derivative of tan (x) is sec square (x) so could I make sec square (x) = 1 + tan square (x) and then differentiate 1 + tan square (x) ? Moogat would kill me. I could actually imagine him removing his shoe and jumping across the table shouting,

"Arre chootiya dikhra"

I looked up in confusion and asked , "What's the derivative of secccs...." oooops.... I almost mentioned something which is a function of two variables that are dependent on each other. We would need partial differentiation for that.

Suddenly all those jokes that drew giggles when Shanky said cot(x) or sec(x) in his funny accent dint seem funny any more. Also now it became even more clear why Moogie never took girls. Apart from the main reason which he told us, there were so many other reasons. He would not have been able to propound his theory on how to become tall or tell us which TV channels to watch or give us the other full form of ASTC. We would have missed out on so many interesting anecdotes.

Anyways, I repeated slowly,

SA : What is the derivative of sec(x)
CL : Secant(x)*Tan(x)
SA : Yeah ok.

And then I continued on with the sum and completed it. Well, I finally got through my first session and hopefully I can withstand the other sessions too. Hope the poor girl passes her exams. Please pray for her and me.

Amen