Archive for the ‘IIT Roorkee’ Category
Every school lives in the delusion that it is the sole beacon of light in the otherwise pathetic lives of its students. Mine was no different. Two years and two months ago, this school housing half of Chennai’s nerd-dom (the other half can be found here) organized a farewell, intended to be a soul-wrenching event of importance far exceeding the national elections and the release of Blu-Ray. It was by all means a morbid affair, boys dancing and girls singing (yes, and not the other way around), half-a-dozen speeches and few whatdyacall’ems which I seem to have conveniently forgotten. I do however, remember placing bets (remember kids, gambling is bad) with great passion and furious sadism as to which of my friends would shed tears and which ones would end up getting senti. Sentimentality is for losers, I had then opined, with wisdom that could be matched by none but the Pope and Joey Tribbiani. Back to the future, it is ironic that I have become the very ghost I had once mocked. Perhaps age does make you emotional, as the results of a recent psychological study suggest.
I had initially decided to christen this post “Sopho-no-more” – a tribute to a semester with a few unforgettable and a million forgettable incidents. So much to take home, and yet when I’m sixty four all the memories I’ll cherish will owe their existence to a sad white report card which shall further emphasize my cumulative fall from grace. (2,2) is probably R-land’s brilliant compensation for the sham(e)s to follow (read (4,2) ). I never thought a day would come when I would have no time for facebook almighty; this is precisely what this semester does to you. Countless night outs, sacrifices on the eve of the examination, getting beaten by a software whose makers thought having a chameleon as its icon would make it all the more happening, and disappointments, all worth enduring for just a couple of pats on the back. Among others, I wish to remember this sem as the one in which I finally got to watch “The Last one”, an episode which just about edges “The one which could have been” from the apex of the ten saddest excuses for F.R.I.E.N.D.S episodes. Watching Messrs Kauffman, Bright and Crane stoop (ascend?) to K-Jo’s emo-shunal level with the “They lived happily ever-waitforit-after” ending does make one wonder about the futility of life, forty two and all that jazz.
I attended my first DP a couple o weeks back, albeit as a mere spectator. Watching the usual suspects in a helpless state strangely transported me back to my first semester. For the naive fresher who had travelled a thousand miles, these were the ones who had it done it all, possessing infinite talent that one could only dream of, I had then thought. Pragmatism seems to have gotten the better of me today, but yet old adulations indeed die hard. One committed moron replaces another and yet in front of Dawggy-boy’s tree, I am a still a starry-eyed kid listening with rapt attention to a fat man’s cries for ideas. Another unfamiliar face shall greet me in G-27 when I barge in to drag the cheap chief off for a cup of kapi that I shall once again be forced to pay for. Gundas, air guitarists, Tigers and weirdos of all shapes and sizes who can claim the word velagiri to be their own, I shall spot them all in Rajendra next sem. And yet, when I return fulfilling the obvious prophecy by becoming a senior, Roorkee would be truly empty. Two days ago, they got me to trade my heroes for ghosts and I still don’t have any parting words, last-minute-jokes, or senti monologues. So it is but befitting that I end with a great man’s immortal lines (please do watch the video, I promise, it’s worth it).
We will meet.
There are two kinds of people – those who know binary and those who don’t. Neighbours however, belong to the third breed, those who make you ponder about the reason why the human race exists in the first place. These 42 days in Ajaad (approximation is one of the quintessential qualities of an engineer) amongst the finest postgraduates our nation has to offer has added many new dimensions to the word “neighbourly”.
As a tribute to these fine, young gentlemen (PC demands), I present ten innovative ways to shower affection on your wingmates and continue maintaining the good relations you’ve built. Guaranteed to have your neighbours squealing with delight.
(in no particular order)
1. Meet the Smokers
“Sutta na mila” is a farce, period. The swine flu prevention mask that you bought has finally found some use, albeit for something completely different; wearing it inside your room prevents asthma (Pre-Order your chocolate flavoured mask today!). The flipside is that the various cigarettes scattered around double as a good tool for brand identification/equity (thanks to which we stood second in the legendary shARE quiz).
2. Keep it “Brief”
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no it’s just the neighborhood chuddi-maan! In the lineage of Marvel and DC’s crimebusters who wore their underwear over their pants, comes the omnipresent undie-man, who errr….chooses to wear only his underwear and roam about. Never has a single man evoked such a plethora of reactions – inspiration, disgust, amusement and (rarely) indifference. Though “Come on ra, it’s only a boys hostel” can be used to his defence, you have to take into account the opinion of two horny southies who exclaim with anguish, “I can accept the boxers but wearing V-cut chuddies all the time is ridiculous”.
3. Loved, Louder
Now, before you mistake the benign souls who play loud music on their 5.1 surround speakers, let me explain. These gentlemen only wish to provide free entertainment to the entire wing (or sometimes, the whole hostel) and what better way than Backstreet Boys and Pritam Chakraborty. Altruism knoweth no bounds.
4. What the Flush
Recent studies indicate that pressing the flush after you are done requires an average of 35.42J of energy. Blaming the folks who do not use the flush is incorrect as they are merely following the principle of conservation of energy. A wise man once said, “It is understandable if people forget to use the taps above the urinals but…………………………..” you get the picture, don’t you?
I am totally flus(h)tered.
5. Maddus are from Mars and Haddus are from Pluto
If you ever thought all those residing south of the Vindhyas were similar, think again! Apologies to my Haddu Brethren, but when you’ve grown up on Illayaraja’s and ARR’s very best and end up hearing the same in another language, it is but natural to curse the entire gult cult. During an I’m-missing-maddu-land phase of life, “Anjalu Anjaloo” is probably the last thing you want to hear. Had it not been for S.P.B’s divine baritone, I would have probably gone mad by now.
6. Election Manifrustos
“Do you mind, if I stick a ‘Vote for Ajay Mishra (that’s me)’ poster on your door”. “Hi. I am standing for mess secy. Please get me atleast 40-50 votes from your batchmates”. “Food is neither B.Tech nor M.Tech, so I am counting on you to get all B.Tech votes”. Nuff said.
One reason to welcome Azad’s banning the elixir of those who swear by, “I drink, therefore I am”. In adherence to nature’s fundamental law of “What goes in has to come out”, the Bevdaa brigade once decided to defile the bathroom after their endeavours at sea. The result being no one in the wing was able to have a bath for the next few days.
8. Moan(a) Lisa
Moaning Myrtle’s got competition. Introducing Moan(a) Lisa, based on a true story. Not so long ago, in a galaxy close to the gaon, existed a particular room which emanated all sorts of noises. Moans, Shrieks, Wails, howls, you name it, they were all there in their full acoustic glory. Legend also has it the intensity of the sounds was inversely proportional to the distance from the nearest TS. Considering it was a double room, the lesser said, the better!
9. Read my blaag
Blaaaagging it seems, is the latest fad in the insti. Though not that common a grouch, “go read my latest blog post and make sure you comment” has become more of a command than a request. Inspirations are plenty though, especially when your neighbour’s blog is reassuringly titled “Change”. Obama, watch out!
10. Hairy Potter and the basin of hairyness
Tolkien would have probably said, “One day the hirsute shall rule the world”. Rajinikanth opines in Thillu Mullu, “Moustache is the mirror of the heart”. Neither of these however, can justify the presence of hair in the washbasin every single time. Do we need any more reasons to introduce TM-101 (Toilet Manners) as a compulsory course.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (especially those residing in Azad’s fifth wing) is purely co-incidental.
Posht Script: In Steven Tyler’s wise words, “All the things you do come back to you”. By this very logic, one can expect the aforementioned gentlemen to be blogging about a little chronophilic rat in their midst. Do keep tuning in to “Change”, ‘the unofficial pipth wing ka blog’ for further updates.
Laziness is in the air! For a metaphorical eternity I’ve been wanting to press the publish button and unleash the clichéd and retrospective year end post. But yet as I sit in front of this black box, the very fingers which boast of a typing speed of well over 75wpm are unable to co-ordinate with their cranial master and string together a few words. Neither the receding blogline which says “Chronotron – 5 weeks ago”, nor the dozen others senti posts by fellow basters are able to break this mould of laziness which has cropped up. But dear reader(??), do forgive me this one time … After all, its that time of the year when my enviable hindi skills can rest in peace, when the ubiquitous “Oh! You’ve grown so thin” exclamation results in brilli-aunt sweets being stuffed inside and when I get to meet old acquaintances and reminisce about those green and salad days.
Savage Garden with their “Truly, Madly, Deeply” were the runners-up for the title of a post where I attempt a futile sojourn down my short-term memory lane. How can I forget? My legendary pole dance in the first of its kind Litta chapo. The destruction of various rooms – the only meaningful exercise in an farzi endeavor calling itself Bhawan day. The end of an era where I was a diligent NCC Cadet. Fervour (the passion?) in Azad and Cautley TV rooms as we cheered the Devils who are truly on their way towards a magical quadruple. Long hours spent in front the RJB canteen for FAQ (Fachchas associated with Quizzing no more?) meetings, and more recently the farewell quiz. A few memorable moments that I draw from the pool of nostalgia but believe me, this semester was so much more. It is times like these that make me wish that I lived in Harry Potter’s magical world. That way, a Pensive could help me re-live all these magical moments which otherwise may fall into the bottomless abyss of life.
The coming semester will be exciting in its own way. Yet the hallowed portals of LitSecTM and WONA will never be the same. No more quizzes where the QM in all his geekiness proclaims “bullet time” to be a household word. No more wardrobe malfunctions or modified-Baba-Dude Symbols. No more turban-spotting. And alarmingly, no more girls in Litta (hopefully the coming batch is able to throw up an answer to that)… The crowd in Cautley’s TV room shall never be the same again. No more fist pumping by an otherwise serene, cute chap with the Man-U Tee Shirt. Meetings of the morons Inc will throw up many new faces. Bulks, Sulks and resident geeks have taken their seats in the audience, it is the era of baldness, of Chewbeccas and underwear.
Life being a cycle, the future will always bring with it an element of the past. Maybe one fine day I’ll look at some minion and comment, “Did I ever tell you? You remind me of this dinosaur/left hander”… but they can never be the same. G-71 & 81 shall always hold a sweet spot in this memory… Scrabble, 1TB harddisks and WOTalk notwithstanding, there is something special about those visits to the farm house or maybe as the Mallu Marauder put it perfectly, “We came to seek your blessings”..
When I’m 64 (sorry Dela, you changed the title), and when I think of this particular phase of my life labeled by an ordered pair (1,2), all that I’ll have with me to enter the bittersweet world of nostalgia will be a few dozen jpeg files (for the uninitiated, facebook is your friend) and a boastworthy nine point something. But neither in all their mundaneness can hope to sum up a (as clichéd as it may sound), a roller-coaster of a semester. For some undecipherable reason, this rhyme which inspired Ken Kesey and probably thousands of others comes closest
One flew east, one flew west
And one flew over the cuckoo’s nest
6.626 x 10 ^-34 – the number in big bold font stared at me in the face. Planck’s constant, one of the many mystical numbers which the force had embedded in nature, a number that keeps on reappearing in one’s physics copies and a number that I was supposed to obtain at the end of my experiment.
Even after three full years of catastrophes & manipulations in the physics laboratory, I still fail to comprehend as to why one has to undertake processes of extremely tedious nature to find out the values of numerous constants and verify the validity of n (lim n -> infinity) formulae. Something that great scientists have already done; centuries ago! Infact it is an insult of the zeroth order to the laborious tasks that they have performed, because what they painstakingly did in years with primitive tools, we are asked to complete in under two hours with highly sophisticated machines. And its not that if I announce “my value” of Pi is 3.1416 and not 3.1415 as they had thought to be all along, they would take my words and hail me the next big thing.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I had by the method of radiation, calculated that Planck’s constant was 6.6… and now I was being forced by the crudeness of the syllabus to repeat this again, but this time using Photo electric effect. O Force, thou art fled to brutish beasts.
It was that time of the year again, when only human minds are more cluttered than study tables, when “ghissu” becomes a compliment than a “gaali”, when spotting a soul on the corridors is more difficult than spotting a member of the female species, when people fight for the local ghissu’s tut copy, when serious looks greet you in the mess rather than the customary smiles, when bakar consists of only Electrodynamics and multiple integrals, and ofcourse, the time of the year when IITR faces power cuts. Welcome to the yet another dreaded TS (Test-Series) in the life of an IIT’ian. It was during this time of the year, that yours truly fed up with the terrible math portions and having reached his saturation decided to use his FREE message scheme to bug the local “Illusioned Mathematician”. and what ensued follows.
Note: MA-102, being such a terrible course, does not really have any proper text book that students follow. And hence all sorts of books from Berman to Iyengar to Kreyzig are being used. The book under discussion is one of its kind. It is most definitely not a book to learn mathematics, yet it seems to have a cult status which defies any logic, maybe because of the fact that it has a decent problem collection. Yours truly decided to investigate it one fine night to find out what it was really made of. For the sake of clarity, we shall be referring to it as a book by a Random Indian Author (RIA). Read on!
ME: Man, RIA is terribly bugging. It has questions which are conceptually simple, but integrating them is a pain in the neck. God save our souls.
The Illusioned Mathematician (TIM): I dont see such books unless someone comes with a doubt in those books. I maintain my standard irrespective of what standard the course coordinator sets.
ME: My dear chap, A rose grows in a ditch. Similarly these Indian authors have taken great pains to search various foregin books and rip-off only the best of sums. As an indian, i feel that i should atleast honour the service done by our fellow countrymen. After all searching n^n foreign books to extract only the best of questions, is not really an easy task!
TIM: Oh, i just despise these books.. there are some superb indian author books no doubt but not RIA. Math first, and then comes india.
Opinions differ. 😛
ME: How sad.. Ask not what the country has done to you but what you have done for the country. I feel that RIA has the same probs as any other socalled top class foreign/indian book… so for mathematical laymen like yours truly, its all the same.
TIM: Really depends on your purpose. you wanna forget integration after Ma102, so RIA rocks… i wanna die the moment, i forget my first bit of maths so bermans my book. Close this topic. wont get us anywhere.
ME: When did i ever mention that RIA rocks??
No reply! 😀
Hmmm…In my humble opinion, its all in the mind. And what you do defines what/who you are. Its most definitely not how you do it. Yeah, I was playing for the gallery (quite obviously), but was I the only one?
P.S: Airtel is such a smart-ass, they’ve upped the SMS rates just for today.
P.P.S: No V-Day wishes from me. Check this out, for more details.
P.P.S: Some lame reply did come after an hour, but I fail to remember it.
Once upon a time, in the sunny realms of Chennai (or Madras as he still liked to call it) lived a happy-go-lucky kid who just wanted to enjoy life. (In fact sunny was/is an understatement cause the land had never seen its temperature dip below 25C and kid never got the chance to associate anything but people’s reactions with the word “cold”) And then it happened… God was apparently displeased with the kid for no particular reason and so he subjected the kid to 2 years of rigorous imprisonment. With no company whatsoever, the kid decided to immerse himself into his books, or so he thought! Those two years in jail turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the kid met people whom he could actually call “friends”, and of course he met a person whom he would never, ever forget in life!
The two years in jail whizzed by and without knowing it, the kid was actually having fun! Or so he thought! God was displeased once again, jails are not meant for having fun right? So along with his trusted sidekick Murphy, he screwed the kid where it hurt the most and as a corollary packed him away to a far off land, previously unheard of!
“What is the best way to unwind”, a friend asked the other day and I was left wondering. The question came at the right time too; the dreaded end sems had just taken its toll on the sanity of the (few) normal people in R-Land and zombies finally got a couple of days before being sent to conc err….NCC camp. The question ofcourse has been asked over and over and time has not thrown up any particular answer. My gyan is quite simple. You do what helps in relaxing you the most. For some it’s movies, some fiction and for a few (sad) creatures, its back to studying.
My own “ultimate stressbuster” has been discussing stories. I know this sounds weird but my friend and I have this (apparently) weird habit of developing stories for our own (imaginary) movies. Our stories have covered all themes – action, romance, masala : you name it, we’ve done it! Sample this – The road not taken! Most of my friends are biased against our stories and make it their sole aim to diss us, but believe me, after a hard day’s work, there’s nothing more relaxing than discussing such bakwaas with a serious frame. Many of our stories have been inspired by real life events and almost all our characters have the essence of the people we meet around us. We not only develop stories but also discuss the screenplay. Believe me, a screenplay is just as important for a movie as its story.