Showing posts with label Great times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Great times. Show all posts

On Growing Old

I turned 24 years old today. This obvious marker of my days spent here in this world somehow brings a sense of loss. There's a loss of time, a loss of things that once were and would never be again the same.  It forced me to look at those old pictures of me, when I was young and happy, only an year ago, and that certainly brings a temporary gush of happiness.

I don't know why but this huge, pale cloud has cast a shadow over my faculties since I woke up in the morning. I can't seem to find the source of the mist that has darkened my sky. There is this strong sense of being lost, or loosing something that was perhaps within my grasp. Why haven't I achieved those lofty goals that I've always aimed for? Or, why, if I have achieved them albeit partially, I don't feel glad about it? Importantly, why can't I simply cherish what I have?

The above is of course the first reason that has triggered my emotional self and allowed me to deviate from my busy schedule and write a post. And the second is possibly the busy schedule itself. Yes, I think the regularity of my work routine even on my auspicious, 'happy b'day' has a hand in spoiling it somewhat. Of all the days, at least to-day I should do what I scarcely find time do it, and not read these darn scientific articles! To hell with them.

Ah! I shall read a book. A fine book it shall be. Gifted by my dear sibling, 'Ernest Hemingway on writing', my b'day present. The finest of all.

(Having written this, I feel much better. Writing is certainly a potent remedy for all kinds of sickness.)

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Current Book: Ernest Hemingway on Writing
Current Music: 'Bad Romance' by Lady Gaga (Happy b'day Gaga. <3)

Curiosity Rover Lands on Mars: An Inspiring Accomplishment

The most beautiful picture of the mission 
The past 24 hours have been quite unreal for me with all the thrill about the near impossible landing of the NASA's newest, 1 ton rover on the surface of Mars. I've been avidly following the built up of this excitement since the past 1 month, thanks to the amazing public outreach and killer videos by the JPL team at Caltech.

I can remember clearly, a dozen hours ago when I was watching the live stream from NASA TV, as the world entered the 7 minutes of terror. The look on the faces of those scientists packed in a single room, trying to accomplish the greatest achievements of mankind in space exploration, thrilled me beyond measure. And when, the announcement was made,

"Parachute deployed,"

Everyone in the room in California, USA clapped hard, and I, sitting far away in Europe, alone in my own room, clapped too. And when the final announcement of the safe touchdown on Mars was made, everyone in the room just went crazy with joy and tears, and so did I. Those final minutes of livecast from the EDL team were a better movie than the TDKR and HP7.

Overall, globally, I feel every common man, who may having nothing to do with science or engineering, was filled with awe on the news of such an event. But of course, there's also a section of society which merely discards these successes as "waste of time", "trivial exploits", "better spend $2.5billion on something else". It saddens me to know the extent of ignorance that still prevails in the 21st century. But then, there will always be these kind of people. There were a large group of people who were cynic about the invention of electricity. Then I'm sure there were people who must have been irreverent of the first satellite launch in the space. Little they would have known the importance of science, while their younger cynical generation idles their time on their TV sets, listening to weather forecasts.

But nevertheless, my primary point is that so inspiring can be the feats of others sometimes, that they inspire you to do more. Dare mighty things, is the phrase that is stuck in my head. And I think it's truly fortunate to be alive in the 21st century.

How beautiful life becomes once you are able to appreciate the beauty of it. When you can look at the stars and see the patterns and constellations. When you look at a flower, you can see not only the colors but the intricate machinery behind its bloom. And then you don't need money to have happiness.

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Current Book: "Dubliners" by James Joyce
Current Music: "Imagine The Fire" by Hanz Zimmer (best thing on the music planet out there, still)
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Elves from Princeton, Hobbits to Mordor

Following snippets are from the PhD campus visit I recently had in an awesome university:

# I reached the university 10 hours later than my scheduled time due to all kinds of snowstorms which cancelled/delayed possible flights and left me to rely on reluctant bus drivers who at one point actually controlled my fate single-handedly. Hungry, tired and with messed up hair, my series of interviews with various professors began 5 minutes shortly after I reached their campus. I was most interested in the following professor because he was not an engineer but a scientist:

"So Ms. Singhal, you're clearly at a disadvantage here. You missed all the morning sessions where the faculty gave their research overviews, so you've no clue what we do-"

I cut him and told what I knew. And I offered if he's interested in seeing some of my papers that I had brought along.

"Ah I see. So you've done your homework."


# Another professor that I liked went into more of a philosophical questioning.

"So Ms. Singhal your research is interesting. Do you think you can apply these concepts to the real world? How long do you think we may have before these technologies are available for the public welfare?"

I guessed 10 years and she laughed.

"Well, things change rather slowly in the US, Ms. Singhal. 10 years is too optimistic anyway. So, tell me, do you think you can change the world?"

"Yes."


# Once the interviews ended, I was quite happy and sort of imagined that I had bagged it and all. Little did I know then that the competition was incredibly fierce with candidates from Ivy leagues and such brand names that I didn't even feel like telling people that I was from Jaali University. We had a lot of free food and lot of socializing events, campus tours, lab tours etc which I enjoyed but hour by hour in those three days I kept on meeting stronger and stronger candidates. Prospective graduate students were from Georgia Tech, Berkeley, Texas Austin, Stanford, Penn State, MIT, etc and even Princeton for god's sake. And the only reason those guys were interested in this university was because they had lived 20 years in their hometown and now wanted a goddamn change. Secondly this university which we were visiting is supposedly ranked good in my tiny specialization but overall the university is not that much of a tagname as Caltech, Ann Arbor etc.

Once I saw the people, their profiles, and their high IF publications, I turned quite depressed and tried my best to passively convey that this university isn't really as good as the others they have applied to. I tried this hard on the Princeton elf, this smart, hunk of a dude with a royal breeding who was looking down upon everything anyway. I sometimes wonder how god can make people so intelligent and so hot at the same time. And why I ain't blessed with a single quality? I hope he goes to Harvard or something. But why would anyone leave Princeton anyway.

So well, near the final hours of my stay at the cursed campus I was quite upset and began to hate everything. I hated my own incapability, own lame existence. I just had or have no chance. Profs were being nice to everyone apparently and will let us know in 2-3 weeks. I know what they gonna let us know. . .

And then I felt like a lonely, weak hobbit stranded in the dark land of Mordor. And I felt, I felt, Elves may be strong and capable but they don't care about the battle. They are just too good to participate or fight. They have nothing to fight for, no desperation they have in their soul. And most of all, they and all the other creatures of this middle earth lack one thing, with which this poor hobbit is blessed in a surplus quantity. And it is due to that one thing, this hobbit was able to match her shoulders with tall elves for a couple of days on sacred grounds. That one thing which I cherish beyond all, my friends, is courage.


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Current Book: "Selected Stories" by Edgar Allan Poe
Current Music: "Badal pe paun hain.." by Chak De India
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Why Editors are Gay?


PLEASE PLAY [THIS SONG] IN BACKGROUND AS YOU READ THIS POST TO FEEL THE ESSENCE OF IT. 


# Unfortunately we will not be able to use this work for _. We receive many well-written, compelling, stories, but can only take a very limited number due to constraints of space and style. We wish you the best of luck in placing your story elsewhere. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.

# Due to the large number of high quality flash fiction, our decisions were difficult to make. Unfortunately, we will not be able to include _ in issue 7, but we truly appreciate your interest in _. Please feel free to submit again. We are able to accept only 4 to 5 flashers a month.

# Unfortunately, we have decided not to accept it for publication. I wish you the best success in placing your story elsewhere, and hope to see more of your work.

# We appreciate the chance to read your poem. Unfortunately, the piece is not for us. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.

# Sadly, I regret to inform you that we are declining acceptance at this time. We enjoyed the work and found many of the ideas you presented interesting, but we don't feel the story is the best fit for _. Thank you again for sharing your work with us and we wish you the best of luck placing this story in another market.

# Unfortunately, I will be passing on _ this cycle. While I appreciate the opportunity to review it, it just didn't grab my attention as well as some of the other stories I received did.  Because my policy is to only accept the stories that will be published for the specific issue I am reading for and not building a back list of stories to be published, I am often forced to reject good stories simply because I don't have enough available slots and other stories just grabbed me more than others. I do hope to see other submissions from you in the future.

# We enjoyed reading it but after careful consideration have decided that we cannot use it at this time. Please feel free to submit other work to us in the future.

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# Congratulations! Guest Editor _ has selected your poem “_” for the Issue X of _ Journal. Take pride in knowing that you are among only twenty writers selected from the hundreds who submitted to this issue.

I am writing to secure the proper rights to publish your poem. But first, a note about payment. [...]


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Current Book: "The Call of Cthullu and Other Weird Stories" by H.P. Lovecraft (Since classes have started my reading would be utterly slow but FYI I'm focusing a bit on Romantic Poetry these days)
Current Music: "Sheran Di Kaum Punjabi" from Speedy Singh

Why Indians are Shy?

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It was all in vain. I almost decided not to go and turn back for the eleventh time when I finally found myself standing outside the building where the auditions were supposed to be held. The merciless sun forced me to enter inside. There was still a good half hour left before the auditions for a local play would begin but I could already feel my heart constantly trying to burst out of my chest in a rhythmic fashion. After a final visit to the bathroom, I landed in the corridor where presumably other people like me were waiting for their name to be called. (Not exactly other people like me as they were all 'seasoned' art and theater majors and me just a meager engineering major) I was glad that at least, these auditions were held in private in form of 1 on 1 sessions with the director as it saved me from making myself a fool in front of everyone but on the same hand it was bad to not be able to see how others are doing inside that sacred audition room - where your fate was decided in under 5 minutes.

I paced up and down the corridor slightly avoiding the closed group of all the white students, maintaining my own proximity and wondering if I even looked good, in the first place. Shyness dripped like hot sweat from my soul, it could have flooded the floor if it were as real a thing as I imagine it to be inside us Indians among Goray people. Acting would be a secondary thing but first am I even presentable on stage, among those well figured and chisel faced white theater students? What must they be thinking, what's a brownie Asian doing in here? There's still time, perhaps I can turn back, shove the cellphone up my ear and leave the corridor in pretension of attending some important call. Through the corridor, out the door, into the free and lovely sun, away from the fear of auditions and the nervousness that they brought, I wanted to hide.

My name was called and I went in to feel slightly amused at how pleasantly the director shook hands with me, and made the entire atmosphere so comfortable as if I were his holy guest.

"So which year are you?" His eyes quickly scanned the sign up form I handed him immediately upon entering, but before I could answer he had managed to decipher my scribbling, "Oh I see, a graduate student! Engineering, hmm, interesting."

I only nodded and smiled at this welcome reception, and tried to keep my answers as courteous as possible, nearly failing to hide my nervousness.

"So you were selected at the Shakespeare thingsha kshj Shakespeare thing, nice, yeah I heard about it," he continued to make comments and general questions as he read through the form when ultimately, "Allright. I'll have you read this text for me. This is from the short story _ by _, have you read it before?"

"Yes, yes." I nodded in fresh enthusiasm as I had done my homework, and after two silent readings, I read out loud the given three para's, making sure to stress on the clauses and phrases I considered important. Though I screwed up badly the last clause at the end.

The director replied in a broad smile and said those words (which could be generic and perhaps were being said to every other actor that tried but nevertheless they made me write this post)

"That was lovely. Great, lovely."

And when I thanked him for this, he added, "I will decide the cast by tomorrow but if not for this particular production, I highly encourage you to attend more auditions that are coming up this semester. Would you like me to add your email to the emailing list about those?"

"Yes, please, that would be great. I came to know about this by a lucky accident when I glanced at a clipping in a newspaper that was lying at somebody's else desk yesterday. I'm so glad that I got this opportunity."

"Wonderful! I'm not sure if you can take theater classes while being an engineering graduate but I'd definitely recommend you to get involved with us, the theater department, I'm sure we'll have lot of opportunities for you in coming future," he finished and allowed me to leave out of the room, in sort of a trance, through the corridor, out the heavy door and into the smiling sun, and I didn't know why but all the way back I couldn't stop asking myself how beautiful everyone and everything was.

--------

Now, I am not at all expecting to hear back from them, because I sensed a form rejection there but the good part is I am feeling free, unrestrained from the limits that I had set for myself, and so glad that I did go and auditioned. Because I think I'll have to try, at least a hundred times and perhaps more if I want to succeed. Same goes with all those stories that I send to editors across the globe; I have no other option but to try.

To try, try, try and not feel shy.

And those people who are winning in everything they pursue and getting acceptances where ever they submit themselves or their work, either they are limiting themselves to a too narrow a field or they are the ones who have chosen to play level "easy" in the setup menu of this game of life.

So, are you shy? Or did you try?
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Current Book: "The Call of Cthullu and Other Weird Stories" by H.P. Lovecraft

Why Indians are Weird?

Why Indians are Awesome? is the real title actually. I just chose the other one so as to attract a different kind of audience from Google searches. (Yeah, no, that's not me in the picture.)

I was out with Prof. X for a conference and we were fooling around when I memorized a few snippets of our convo word by word.


1. They pass taunts- Scene 1, Act 1. [Few feet before entering a hotel]

Me: Omg, can't we try some affordable Inn? This looks like a grand hotel.
Prof X: No, this is close to Airport. Let's take this one. That's fine.
Me: (Makes constipated face)
Fat Receptionist: Sorry guys. We have only suits left. No normal rooms.
Me: (Drops jaw to floor)
Prof. X: (Draws out her card) That's fine. Give us two.
Me: (Whispers) But Prof! I don't have that much money. Can't we try someplace else first?
Prof. X: Why? You have money. It's fine, you're out of state, have an experience.
Me: Well, I don't have money. Of course, you have millions of dollars to play with in your project account.
Prof. X: (Makes very pissed off face, and is about to fire me when suddenly)
Fat Receptionist: (Barges in like a savior) Here's your total. How many receipts would you like?

And thus, Prof X. forgot about the taunt.


2. They have Arranged Marriages- Scene 1, Act 2. [At Dinner]

Prof. X: So I heard in Indiya people still do traditional marriages?
Me: (Blushes pink) Y-yes (Blushes red)
Prof. X: Aw really? I thought it was almost obsolete! You mean parents arrange everything for the young ones? (Gasps in shock at my nodding)
Me: It's slowly changing though. But yeah, it's still there. Even I'm going to do an arranged marriage. Nobody loves me :(

Such is my fate.


3. They are Greedy - Scene 1, Act 3. [In the middle of a highway]

Prof. X: So I guess we're done and we will go back to the hotel now.
Me: Umm, but, I-I was thinking if we could...
Prof. X: (Grunt) (Grunt)
Me: (Throat Clearing) I mean, just hang around a bit to see the mountains and all.
Prof. X: You have seen a lot already yesterday, there's nothing much in this deserted place. Let's go ba-
Me: But if we could- (Sobs)
Prof. X: (Grunt) (Grunt)
Me: (Makes most pitiable face in the world) {I'm good at it}
Prof. X: All right. All right. Don't worry Tanja. We have fuel, we have time, we're fine.

And thus my greed dragged Prof. X into quite dangerous one way narrow winding mountain passes.


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Current Book: "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf (NOT FUCKING recommended)
Current Music: "Hotel Room Service" by Pitbull (MARRY ME, PITBULL, PLZ)

3 Idiots in Chinese

I sat glued to my computer screen as a familiar voice poked me from behind,

"Hey, hey...!"

I instinctively minimized the browser window and turned back to find a Chinese friend of mine, smiling as usual. But before I could reply to his "hey", he began,

"Hey, have you see that Indian movie...that...?"

I was like, uh? I wanted to ask him "which?", when he continued,

"That one, the one, with the song, 'gimme some sunshine', yeah, yeah that one, that one!"

He seemed to struggle remembering bits of it, but I got it as soon as he mentioned the song.

"You mean 3 Idiots?" I asked gingerly.

"Yes, yes! That one. So funny, so funny, it was awesome!"

"Oh really? Wow, that makes me proud but wait, was it in English subtitles?"

"No? It was in Chinese subtitles. Too funny, too funny Indian movie!"

I was like, what the heck. Chinese subtitles?

Then he drew the auxiliary that there are probably people out there who know both Indian and Chinese language and went away beaming and appreciating the movie. As the day passed, he often asked me about the actress, the actor and other stuff about the movie. I couldn't help but feel good, cuz it's very rare that good light is shone on my country in this foreign land.

Two days later, he met me at the gym and I had my headphones on, so he asked me,

"Are you listening to that sunshine song? Are you?"

I merely smiled and shook my head, I don't know what he made of it though.

But after a week, today, he did something that convinced me I should blog about this. He came to me, beaming, and said,

"You know what? I watched that movie again last night!"

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Current Book: "The Sound and the Fury" By William Faulkner (Not recommended)
Current Music: "On the floor" by Jennifer Lopez. (I LOVE her)

Rainy Love

I stretch my hand out to feel the cool wind that has, by occasion, drifted into a hot summer's day. And I can see some clouds shaping from the east, about to envelope the Sun and save the sky from it's wrath. And presently, it begins to rain.

Softly, it falls on my hand, trickles down my fingers, and collects in my palm. The hot sand on the ground is now changing to a pleasant mud, emitting that familiar sweet odor. It reminds me of the story "There will come soft rains" by Ray Bradbury. But most of all, it reminds me of love.

Love, as I perceive it, is a strange emotion that chances upon select individuals at select occasions. It's hard to see an everlasting love. For at times you may hate the person you loved deeply once. And at times, this spark of love can be renewed from hatred as instantly as dry wood immolates into a flame.

A single doubt, a false hope, longing for a glimpse, can sometimes rend your heart to such a state - about a thousand minuscule fragments - that you're ready to do anything to get what you want. Even if that's a whisper that you wish to hear from your loved one, but you want it so much, at times. It reminds of a saying a friend of mine often repeats, "That no matter how careless or busy you're about your love, but when that loved one drops a single tear, you're ready to fight the entire world. And that's love."

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P.S. Perhaps this post is a direct effect of reading Wuthering Heights. A story of passion & obsession where the girl, Catherine, even says at one point, "I am Heathcliff." (Heathcliff being her lover.)


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Current Book: "Wuthering Heights" By Emily Bronte
Current Music: "Bebek" by Demet Akalin.

Auditions for Shakespeare

She stepped into the car in a hurry, and slammed the front door a bit too hard. She was late. She drove the car out of the garage, and geared up to her destination on 45 miles an hour.

Outside, it was raining heavily. Thick raindrops fell lavishly on her front shield which were then constantly squished out by the careless yet periodic wipers. She did not like rain. Especially that day when it became an obstacle in finding the place where they were holding the auditions for Shakespeare.

She had read enough Shakespeare by now, she told herself, convincing her heart to stay calm and confident. It had been six months with Shakespeare's major plays, she noticed. Yes, she did remember the 18 lines she had rehearsed for the audition, she told that too to herself.

The violent rain didn't keep her forever from finally making it to the audition place. She parked too much on the outside, and so ran to the far off building, trying her best to stay as dry as possible. She was going to perform after all.

She performed. They approved. Then judges asked her to do a few more scenes for them. She did. They liked it, certainly they did. Before she left, a director met her way and said,

"You-you were good," the director nodded several times and continued, "Yeah, that was nice."

"Mm-hmmh, umm?" She tried not to sound nervous.

"I am going to direct A Midsummer's Night Dream and that's what you're interested in, right?"

"Umm, yeah, mmm-hmmm."

"Yeah, we''ll have callbacks on Thursday, once the auditioning process is over."

"M-mmm, umm, so, so, do-do I-?"

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, don't worry. I'll give ya a call."

And with that she left the room, and marched off to the exit of the building. A rare expression had crawled upon her face, which no one had ever really seen on her, except the receptionist that sat across the exit door of that building.

This time, she didn't run. Nor did she wear her over-coat to shield herself from the windy rain. She let the raindrops strike her face, and let the wind slap her waist as she walked through the storm, smiling.

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Current Book: "1984" By George Orwell
Current Music: "Give Me Some Sunshine" from 3 Idiots.

Seasons

A pleasant wind caressing my face, playing with locks of my hair, hair that I throw aside from my eyes, eyes that look down at the vast ground, ground where the green grass is, green grass growing out of the new land, pushing from beneath the dead, flat leaves that dance upon the busy road, busy road with convertible cars, open hoods and crazy girls, girls with twinkling eyes, red hair and low skirts, low skirts frolicking upon their long legs looking down upon red, pink sandals arguing with chastity, chastity of those naked trees with hungry branches, branches that sharply point the sky like lightning bolts, like tridents waiting to be taken, to be accepted, accepted by a new life, by a new season, by new leaves on their branches and bodies, bodies that roam around in two's, like couples, having faces, faces that smile. And lo! The spring has come.

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Current Book: "The Grapes of Wrath" By John Steinback [Still :(]
Current Music: "Fireflies" - Owl City

Yellow Mellow Fellow

And the worst has struck now. It could be called the best too.

The kind of things I have made fun of all my life might be the things I will eventually end up doing. The kind of people I have mocked might be exactly the kind I'm going to become. All those bloody academicians, those people with scientific knowledge and all. Those goddamn scientists, PhD's.
Yeah, I might be going for a PhD after this masters thingy. People can't stop laughing when they come to know about what I am gonna do. Most of my classmates/peers won't even believe that I would end up like this.

OF ALL THE PEOPLE, I WOULD END UP LIKE THIS. Unbelievable.
Anything can happen, seriously. When I was young, I used to make fun of all those fellows which were "fellows" of some sort. I never understood why after they did well in academics, they became some kind of "fellow". Bla bla "fellow" and all.

And guess what, a US govt. department is now making me a "fellow". Giving me a fellowship grant and all. Didn't believe it when I saw their email. Had applied for it cuz everyone else was going for it. I was like, "Are you sure, govt. people?" But well, its their choice. They wanna waste their coupla thousand bucks in drain, their goddamn wish. US gotta lotta money anyway.

But the irony, you know? Doesn't make me too happy. What would make me more happy? Well I wish my art paid me. Even if it was like 10 bucks for a story in an average magazine, I would have been jumping all around. I am sitting with a dozen of rejections in my inbox for all the pieces I wrote since January. Nice. It's not like that thousands of bucks from science is bad, it's just that I feel I don't deserve it. I really don't.

I suck at science. Very hard. Prolly suck harder at art. But I don't wanna accept that reality. To be an artist is my only wish. And until I become that, this life is gonna be full of struggle and regret.

Funny govt. people. Funny. I really get a bang out of them.

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Current Book: "The Grapes of Wrath" By John Steinback
Current Music: "Fuckin' Perfect" by Pink

On Mathematics

Her love/hatred for math has followed a function which can't be defined.
#She sat at the last bench of the classroom for 7th standard, looking at her watch now and then. The bell rung at the end of yet another hour at school, marking the beginning of the Maths class. She wiped the beads of sweat on her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. That day, her maths teacher was going to return their graded tests they had last week.

They were supposed to do good on this one. It had only easy questions, the topper had said to her after the test. Somehow she only got 2 out of 20.

"So bad scores. Why couldn't all of you even do simple trigonometric problems?" the teacher yelled at the students and then paused, as if waiting for an answer.

A muffled murmuring was the answer.
"All right, all of you below five marks, stand up with your left palm up." The sharp edged ruler felt like hot iron every time it slapped on her palm. Eventually, her soft palms grew tougher as years passed by.



#"You're in tenth class now. Tenth standard. Your percentage, your merit card, will follow you everywhere. Your college, your job, everywhere. They will ask you, how did you do in your 10th class? And what will you say? What exactly will you say?"
She stood silent, her head hung low in fear.

"Look at me. What will you say? That you failed in Maths? That you couldn't even pass the mid-terms? What will you do in your boards? Do you want to sit at home and wash dishes with your mom? Failed in maths, such a failure..."



# "Hey, c-could you help me in this numerical?" she asked looking up at the guy who had nearly missed the entrance to IIT and landed up in the same college she had, by chance.

"Hm, sure, okay, so do that," he scribbled a few calculations on the empty page, "and this, and here, just plug these numbers and then just differentiate the equation you get. Then get x from there, got it?"

"Umm, so-um, okay I'll do them like that," she plugged the numbers, wrote the equation to be differentiated, "so the-the differentiation?" she said without looking up, pointing her pencil at the equation.

"C'mon it's easy. Can't you even differentiate? It's so simple!" he laughed at her, "What are you really doing in engineering? What are you doing here in this field?"

"I really wish I knew," she said and left.



# What is this exp, exp, exp. Why this exp (delta G/RT) is everywhere? Why? Why is e so significant? Why it's use ranges so wide that it used in probabilistic functions as well as derivative ones? Why it has so many proofs for just a unique value of 2.71....?

Why, why, why, it's so.... beautiful? She must have pondered for a week on e. Because maths was what she had to learn. It was her life now. It couldn't be escaped.



# "So, this will go there and y will have an exponential increase with x and then I will formulate this equation, which will incorporate both the factors related. This will then be a one general equation and there won't be any need of separate equations. And then I would develop a model, based on the chemical analysis, whose predicted values I would verify with the ones obtained from the derived equation," she finished writing on the blackboard.

"What did you say how you got your Z value, over there?" asked her professor.

"That, I developed the equation for that. The existing equation is too simple and doesn't cover all the possible factors, but this one," she circled on the board full of numbers she had written in the past hour, "This one, does count for every possible factor. And it will be proved by multiple regression."

"It's good, it's good. It's good to think, it's always good to think different," the professor nodded his head a few times, "But I think you should just stick with the standard equations for now. Don't waste more time and energy over this. But it's good, it's good you're thinking, it's just that you're going lil bit too complex."

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For all the math geeks, the movie "The Oxford Murders" is a must.



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Current Book: "The Grapes of Wrath" By John Steinback
Current Music: This

On Cooking

Its makes my roomateses jaws dropses.  
So when it comes to cooking (or microwaving for that matter) my basic requirements are that the food should be quick, easy and delicious.

I am not too hot about the nutritional content shit. Although I do try to employ some cheap tricks to get all those goddamn nutritions packed in one tight morsel. In short, I abuse turmeric powder.

Anyway, my cooking strategy involves a net 2 hours of cooking once a week on Sundays which basically prepares forthcoming 14 meals for the next 7 days. Dinner and lunch of every single day. For breakfast, I try to gallop cornflakes and all. Heard they give you some nutritional shit. I don't believe that crap.

I like to munch them though. It's while munching cornflakes that I have got the most brilliant artistic/scientific ideas of my life. I don't know what's in them.

And I know there are people out there who spend about 2 hrs of cooking daily. Goddamn daily. One of them is my mother. The rest of them, well, you can figure it out. I can't afford that. I just can't. I just don't like it.

1 mouth, 2 containers, 4 dishes.
'Cooking food' is like 'washing dishes'. You don't wanna do it. That's all. If, while doing any of these two tasks, you ask yourself, "Why am I doing this? Was I born for this?" I suggest you, my friend, stop doing that, at that very moment. You can spend your life doing better things.

Abuse disposable plastic ware. Screw the environment etc. Have a life.

Anyway, I can keep on giving tips on making your life efficient till the point you quit this silly blog's window and go back to your facebook/youtube, so I'll stop.



Tip: Mix at higher temperature, null out the Enthalpy effect and reduce your Gibb's free energy of mixing so that final mix follows the arrow of time ultimately increasing the total entropy of the system. 


But of course no matter you do, even if you just give 2hrs of cooking every week or even become more efficient than that, you just can't beat the Chinese. You just bloody can't. 

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Current Book: "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce
Current Music: "Witchcraft" by Pendulum




A piece of fiction. Genre: Romance

His vibrating cellphone under the pillow blurred his dreams and woke him into the reality. The scratched screen blinked madly and revealed 3:51 A.M.

It was time.

He rubbed his eyes, exited his comforter with much effort, and placed his feet on the floor below with a quick swinging motion to jolt himself up. The floor felt cold, even through his woolen socks. Grimacing, he threw back a handful of hair that blocked his vision and staggered towards the door.

Outside, the hostel's corridor was desolate with most of the hostelers deep in sleep with their rooms locked and lights off. Some of the rooms were still lit as their doors were lined with yellow light, pushing itself out in the dark night. Newspapers, soda cans swept the corridor that led to the bathroom. He almost made his mind to go back at once and rest a bit more. He finished on phone last night around 2 A:M. He needed more sleep.

But no, he went on. He began with brushing. And brushed twice. It mattered. There was no hot water for him to take a bath in this cold weather. He could try to check the geysers on other floors of the hostel but he was getting late. It was 4:20 A:M and the direct bus to his destination left in a couple of minutes from now. And cold water, was what, he poured on his bare chest.

Carefully checking around four times that he had picked all the packages that he need to carry with him, he bolted his door and nearly ran to the hostel's exit. The guard lay snoring on his seat and took no notice as a shadow passed into the night.

There was no scope for a rickshaw and he had to trot all the way from his hostel to the main gate of his university. To avoid the cold, he had warped his long shawl about his nimble body. The wind flapped and slapped the shawl as he raced against time to make it to the exit. Inside, he wore the only set of clothes he believed to be good.

Presently, the darkness began to lighten up and this made the guards at the main gate witness the innocent face that was shelled in a shawl. They allowed him to exit after eying him hair to toenail. It was too early again to have a rickshaw or auto to reach the bus-stand. Consequently, he ended up half way trotting and half way hitchhiking a ride on a bicycle. The bus started about a minute after he entered it, exhausted. Out of breath and with a face gushed with hot blood, he settled in a corner seat and wrapped his shawl about his head.

Four hours later on reaching his destination city, he found himself texting her, trying to find in what section of the bus-stand she stood waiting. Calls were expensive, his balance never stayed with him too long. But he didn't have to wait for her reply too long. He found her face amidst the milling crowd. An anticipation, an eagerness was painted between her solemn eyes.

He stopped in front of her, stood foolishly there, failing to hide a bunch of red roses behind his back, waiting for her to look back. A moment later, she saw him too and a light spread across her cheeks as her lips began to tremble into a smile. Forgetting everything else about, she came running towards him and collapsed in his arms.

His first Valentine's day, 3 years back, didn't go too bad. Every moment, hug, and kiss is a memory etched in stone, till date.

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Current Book: "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce
Current Music: "Valentine's Day" by Linkin Park 

Life's First Concert - Linkin Park

The air was still with anticipation and cold. Desperate voices, restless eyes, aimless hands, uneasy figures called for them in despair. But presently, they did not come.

The long wait finally came to pass and the stage shimmered. For once, it looked as if the light played tricks with us. Us, the worshipers. But no, it was for real. The darkness was now being lifted. The large screen began to split and reveal colors. Somewhere far, a lost sound began to emanate. And with Papercut it began.


Giant manned lights and cameras hung from the dark sky. The black floor vibrated with loose feet of mortals. The stage was engulfed in red fire. And inside that ring of redness, their machines flashed 'Lp' once in a while. Among those machines and the noise, they played. They played. They sang. They danced.

Almost every song a fan could think of. Could ask of. Could ask for. Every number was given. One by one. From each and every album. It was given.

They even plunged down in the crowd after an hour. We, the mortals, went crazy and trampled each other to get a sliver of their skin. I was this, this, this, far away from Chester. Two meters I would say. I couldn't even get near Shinoda. He was unreachable, untouchable.




 And so, that night, in Kansas City, MO, gods had appeared. Somewhere lost in the crowd, a nerd's childhood dream was realized. But so brief and yet eternal was their descent in this mortal world, that their coming was nothing but a fleeting dream.

I still can't believe that I saw them. That I heard them. Live.

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Current Book: "Lord of The Flies" by William Golding
Current Music: "Watercolour" by Pendulum. 

The Nightlife

Note: For putting out a post for the sake of maintaining once a week posting rule of mine, I am putting another one of those unpublished drafts lying junk in my drafts folder. It's almost a month old. Reading it again makes me smile.


(Due to a busy Grad life, my blog posts might not be as long as they were in the past. That's another thing that I have time to party and dance whole night.)

So this Village girl takes another step and experiences the Night life of US and immediately falls in love with it. Last night around 10:30 P.M. with a group of 9 ppl (4 guys n 5 gals) I went to the most happening place of the town...

It was a Friday night. The street was full of intoxicating smell of Alcohol and it was littered with young students with loose senses. There were blue and red lights of the pubs and bars scattered all around. Everyone was walking around you in the most sexiest clothes chosen from the most modernistic wardrobes. There were shrieks of laughter in between. Hordes of young boys and girls were disappearing into their respective bars now and then.

I wanted to stay on the street for a while but since many of my group were inclined to drink, we too ushered into a bar. Inside, the atmosphere was same but more concentrated. Concentrated in the odor and density of people. While the rest of the group ordered their drinks, I played two games of pool with two sober people from the group. Oh, I loved pool! It was my first time, and I actually was able to make some shots. Of course nowhere near the people I was playing with.

Once they were all done and high, we planned to a hit another pub which was famous for it's dance floor. We exited and moved on the next one. The crowd was a little more crazy here. There were a few american couples on the dance floor who were doing 'stuff' other than dancing. People were dancing everywhere they could, on tables, couches, poles and occasionally on the floor. I danced my way till 2 AM after which I was exhausted and so were others. Some of our group who still had the extra energy to dance, danced outside the bar in the parking on hindi/punjabi songs sung by themselves ;)

Work hard for 5 days and loose yourself on the Friday night. It's only fair.

Nerdy Observations

Following is a collection of my observations of the new things and people around me.

--> Crowd is really hot, hot, hot, hot AND hot here. You can call it TASHAN. Like imba, you know? And not just the girls, the guys are hot too ;) I kinda *love* the summers.

--> People in my town have some weird problem of jogging whole day. No matter what's the time. Early morning or late night or mid-afternoon with a scorching sun on top or evening or any time of day, you always find people jogging around. Whether its the campus or the town sidewalks. There are always hot guys and gals jogging. Nice muscles and abs.

--> If you're new and trying out new stuff at food joints. You will often leave the place cursing, "Damn did I really spend 4 dollars n 35 cents on that shitty thing?" Nevertheless it doesn't stop me from repeating the same mistake the next day albeit over another food item.

--> I swipe my ID card to access the door to my office. Technology? Hell yeah.

--> I just got this email on my official university address. "Hello friends, newcomers, and welcome to another eventful year at X

We, the cabinet of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered, Ally, Alliance are pleased to inform you that our semester is starting off next Wednesday with our annual Ice Cream Social.  This year it is sponsored by the LGBT Student Services and will begin at 6 PM on the brick outside of the bla bla.  Our first meeting will involve some ice breaking activities, which will take place in a relaxed setting that the Alliance strives to provide for all interaction.


We are excited to meet you!

LoL. Funny eh? (I am planning to go there anyway ;), will be good to see new kinda ppl ;p)


--> Went to a "pool" party today. Only me and my two friends, we three were the only internationals there. And of the entire crowd around and inside the swimming pool, only 3 ppl were wearing clothes ;). Ye sheher nahin mehfil hai...

On Importance of a Teacher...

Life's been too busy around homeworks. Luckily got a little time to share some thoughts today.


In my entire life, I feel that I had this special connection with my teachers. There were some of them which I really didn't like but then there were a few which I really loved. And as for the teachers' side if anyone would go and ask them, their opinions too would be mostly at the extremities. For them either I had been the most careless and dumb student or I had been an exceptional student. Very few will rate me as a 'nice/normal/decent' student.

And in my bachelors degree, there was this thing that used to happen with me every semester. I used to get in the eyes of at least two teachers every semester. Of course one held love and the other held hate for me. And my record of living up to this phenomenon had been pretty consistent. When I came here in US and the semester began, I was again a bit worried and was wondering if this thing will continue.

Somehow, it did. And it didn't.

I "think" I came a quite close getting a bad reputation in front of a teacher but it seems like it never happened. It all just happened in my worried mind. Or it has but the teacher is not showing it. But yes, I "did" come close to another teacher that I think I really love and he in return appreciates my interests too.

He is a retired professor and quite old. He welcomed me in his office like perhaps no other teacher had ever done to me. And those precious minutes spent with him in the past few days strengthened my grip on my dreams. I know I am talking very vague here and not giving you people any specifics of "What, where and why?" But really, I can't. It's the nature of this blog to stay away from facts. Facts are too mundane and boring. I always try to stay away from names and facts and stuff.

It's all about fiction ;)

And yes, where was I? The meetings, the wise advice and some pivotal events in the past few days have really shaped my world the way I wanted it to. Talking with him, I felt overwhelmed at times on seeing his supportive and encouraging nature. I was "so" much reminded of the book "Tuesdays With Morrie" which I finished a week ago. The way I look at teaching, I sometimes feel that it is one of the most noble professions existing out there. But of course it doesn't suit everyone. You need to know a lot and then you need the right method of telling to novices whatever you know. I don't know about the present but yes maybe after 10 or 20 years, when I feel that I *know* enough stuff, I would love to be a teacher.

I would love to inspire, ignite and most importantly *help* students who would be nothing but my own younger selfs seeking direction.

A great teacher, someone to talk to, someone-someone who could understand everything that I have always meant to say, is what I was primary looking for after coming to US. And I guess I have found someone. It's really important to find that teacher in your life. It's not that I have a "guru" of my lifetime. But yes, for this current phase of my life, I have one. Yes, in past I had a series of teachers who played their roles in perfection. But there had been times when I had no one to guide me. Times of darkness, they were.

I see light now. Pure, infinite, illuminating, White Light.

For every Frodo needs a Gandalf
For every Harry needs a Dumbledore

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