Friday, 23 November 2012


Have you read that paper they give you at the end of the classes nowadays with jokes scribbled all over it?
If not, you better take a look (which you eventually will) because this is the most hilarious thing I have seen in the campus, after the CSA-election agendas of course.

Yeah! You got it! Give yourself a hi-fi! (Even if that's weird.) I am talking about the "Feedback" forms. But I am one of the rare ones who have been trusted with the deeply buried secret of what they are going to do with those poor papers. These manuscripts, carrying explosive truths, will be shredded into microscopic pieces, then rotten by lustful and sadistic bacteria till they turn into bio-gas, which will be finally sealed off mercilessly in a cylinder and blasted to blue flames to roast a chicken in a smoldering oven in our cafeteria.

Or I have been watching too many animes lately.

But seriously who cares? I mean, the administration. The nerds would be merry even if Wall-E were teaching. (And I'm sorry for that inappropriate reference because Wall-E is way more expressive, entertaining and enthusiastic than half of my teachers, but then, it thinks about garbage all the time!) And the rest of the students would anyway attend all the classes. Provided the teacher distributes doughnuts, drinks and droids at the end of each discussion.

Now, for the sake of those who didn't get to see the form; it consists of 18 one-liners that are provided with 6 circles each, to rate the humor-quotient, ranging from NA to 5. And for all who want to pictorially depict your affection and respect for the instructor, there is a blank frame provided at the end where you can draw your instructor sitting on a unicorn, riding over rainbows over the B-Dome, and drawing clouds and thunder with chalk. Or you can just write a classy Yo-mama joke. And for all the obvious reasons one can find in this universe, you are not asked to write your identity.

Now, here are some questions, in random order, I would like to highlight-

Q.) Lectures are interactive, questions are encouraged and doubts are effectively clarified.
A.) Absolutely yes. Like the time I asked my Maths Prof how to solve the partial differential equation, involving spatial dimensions and time, governing the free undamped oscillations of an elastic beam, clamped at one end. And he was all like, "Oh boy! My five-year old son can solve it using separation-of-variables method!" Or perhaps he was simply referring to his mathematically enhanced genes which even have the chromosomes looking like the variables 'x' and 'y'.

Q.) Instructor communicates effectively. (consider grammar, clarity and audibility)
A.) Firstly, I didn't know that these many things are to be 'considered' while speaking as the only concern, we below-poverty-line-in-grammar people have while we speak, is making every sentence sound cool. Like when my friend asked me, "Hey bro! You wanna hit mess dude bucks shit yo?"

Q.) Instructor uses presentation tools (blackboard, slides, models where applicable) effectively.
A.) *thinking about FTV*

Q.) Lectures are interesting and engaging, arousing curiosity in me to learn advanced topics.
A.) Excuse me Mam.... Mam, where is the "I laughed so hard I probably will never be constipated again" option?

Q) Instructor is enthusiastic and original in his/her presentation and problem solving approach.
A) Enthusiastic? Yes, like I am, about my compre-exams. Original? Yes, like I am, in my open-book exams.

Q.) % of classes attended by you.
A.) I didn't count but I swear it's around 100.

Q.) Difficulty level of the questions asked in the evaluation components is commensurate with what is taught in the class.
A.) LOL! ROFLMAO! What's 'commensurate' ?

Q.) I look upon the instructor, as a capable counselor with regard to academic, career and personal matters.
A.) I get nightmares of doing stand-up comedy in the Placement Office, while the company people laugh hysterically. Oh wait! I am actually reading my CG card to them. (No. I wouldn't like to share this with my Prof.)

Q.) The instructor's overall professional conduct is worthy of emulation.
A.) Well such an instructor is like Kasab's hanging. Most of us didn't see it.

Q.) Evaluation is fair and transparent.
A.) Yeah, totally. In fact '0' is the most transparent numeral ever invented!

There are many other questions but obviously I have no clue about those, as I failed to attend many classes due to the time-taking psychology-project I am working on, that involves analyzing the contradictions to the Aristotelian logic displayed in the trailer of "Khiladi 786" and making a detailed report on, why killing the movie's story-writer, music-composer, actor and singer, Himesh Reshammiya, would get Obama a second and more deserving Nobel Peace Prize.

On a totally unrelated note, I would also like to add that I deeply respect and honor this noble profession of teaching. Because teaching is like a miniature version of Big-Boss: being in a closed room surrounded by a bunch of arrogant idiots; assault and murder isn't allowed; and there is some bigger ass sitting somewhere, continuously supervising you. So, it really requires a lot of patience and determination to teach us dumb people, constantly fighting the strong urge to hack and kill. Hence respect teachers and pay attention in the classes and be serious and silent while the class is being taught. If you don't want to end up dead in some gutter, that is.

And yes, fill the Feedback Form seriously. It's fun!       

Friday, 16 November 2012

The Whole E-Matrimony

The big things in life are free.
Just like my fake account in

So, one day my friend barged into my room and said, "I am sufficiently tired of being 'friends' with total strangers and now is the time to quit screwing around in FB and do something thought-provoking, something real, something more mature." And then we created my fake profile. But, I don't want to give free publicity to this match-fixing site so, me being a chemical engineer, let's call it

I am very proud to mention that my profile has got 89 views, which is like 89 times the number of views my blog has got. And, this matrimonial alter-ego of mine, named 'Supramanyam', has got a BE Chemical degree (yeah, I never lie about my roots) and an ME in I.S. (Information Systems) from Stanford. But, I can bet on the cheesy looking couple on the website (that look so glad, as if the husband owns a Kingfisher villa and the wife owns a make-up box, the size of the villa) that ladies are going crazy just over the I.S. part.

Anyhow, it's quite obvious, isn't it; because of the love people have for the things starting with the letter 'I' (subconscious egocentrism, maybe).  Some justifying examples here are- I.I.T, I.I.M, I.T, I.A.S, I.Q, IMAX, I-series-Intel-processors, I-whatever-shit-Apple-makes, I-pill... oops, that came out wrong (no, that isn't a tagline, perverts!)

And, I did one more extraordinarily clever thing; that is, didn't upload my photo. Now, that doesn't mean I am bat-shit-ugly, but, why not let their imaginations run wild! Especially when in this age of obesity, imagination is the only thing that can venture running. I also filled out various other details like my salary, hobbies, caste, creed, dimensions etc with slight exaggeration, as the final output is a person, who looks as big as Big-B, is a thinner and richer version of Lord Kuber, indulges in philosophical stuff like reading Bible, Gita, Koran etc and also preaches that these books essentially say the same thing- we suck!

Now, this one particular day was the turning point in my life, when my profile got its first hit and I got a mail saying, "XYZ, who is ethnically-blah-blah-blah, is interested in you." I was so overwhelmed that I melted into tears and sobbed with ecstasy, because, the last time the humanity seemed interested in me was when I got a game-request of 'Ninja or Nun' on Facebook.

So, I started reading the profiles of various didis and aunties. (Yes, I do respect women even when I am stalking their matrimonial profiles)The search-tool for profiles in this website is quite similar to Google. Now, I am not saying this because, when I typed "girl who acts like a girl", it replied with "Do you mean a Southie chick?" but because, the lesser the page number, the better the search-results.

Let me explain: the age of the females in the profiles gradually increases from 25 to eternity as you go from page 1 to 100. And I always have this weird vision that if I ever dare to, as much as, click on the 100th page, a shivering and wrinkled hand will reach me from the laptop screen and I'll hear a shaking voice saying, "B...b..beta mere Karan-Arjun nahin aaye beta! Now, I want a new beta!" And yeah, that's very creepy.

Some profiles have been written by the fathers, some by the daughters (I mean, the profile-owners), and some have been co-written. The profiles in the last category always have incredibly smooth transitions to avoid confusion and misunderstanding.                                          

An example, ".....My daughter is a respected, highly educated, good natured and well-mannered girl who is, by a rare celestial coincidence, also very beautiful. She has been brought up in a very good cultural background and with high moral values. I can also cook 5 types of pasta and 11 types of pizza and regularly hit gym to be in perfect shape, which isn't round, LOL. I also am very broadminded as I never care about the cheap comments my colleagues pass at me for having simultaneous love-affairs with my boss, who commands the call-center and my driver, who carries me to the call-center. I also....."                                          

See? You just can't detect that there were two authors to this literary piece.

And then there are profiles that have girls whose qualities-list consists of playing piano, violin, mrudangam, cello, nadaswaram and some 50 other instruments. So, basically in this case, I don't marry. I become the manager of an alternative Carnatic rock band. Now, imagine a daily household conversation-

Me- Honey! I am home. What's for dinner tonight?
She- Raga Hamsadhwani
Me- *speechless, with flute in the background*
She- Now the tabla won't play itself, will it, dear?

And then the scene cuts to the music-room where I am frantically playing Tabla with hunger-fits.

But sometimes I start feeling guilty and sorry; my conscience gets on my nerves, for committing this cheap act of not creating a fake profile featuring a woman, too. Then I would also have an overview of the male profiles in the website and things would be more fun. But it's okay. Supramanyam is managing quite well.

Now, I, being an engineer, have always respected multiple choices even when I had no idea what each of those choices meant; just like this website scenario, where an array of women check out a matrix of men and get interested in each other, quite dramatically. But in these times, when, even the faces that we see outside are masked with hypocrisy and insincerity, how can we believe in a profile pic and description on a random website which could have been created by some weirdo. (Like my friend, for example.) But then, it all boils down to a matter of choice and chance.

And who knows? Supramanyam might eventually land up with a 'sanskari stree' (value-added woman).
*The post ends with a Shehnai melody*

Friday, 9 November 2012

Disc- Jockey, Rupa, whatever

Life is a bunch of weird and forgettable experiences. And I had a specially weird one recently.                      

It's called DJ Nite.

DJ Nite  /ˈdēˌjā,nīt/
Noun : A modernistic cultural program led by a person, standing on a high podium with a torture weapon
           called 'turntable', who uses it to repeatedly and mercilessly assault on the fragile eardrums of victims
           who have fallen prey to the tyrannies of electronic music, and calls himself/herself DJ

If you have attended these earlier, you might have spotted an overwhelmingly awkward person staring cynically at the rest of the swaying humanity around and simultaneously doubting the reason of his existence there. Well, that's me.

So, this DJ Nite, (Yes, it's Nite, not Night, because Nite is cooler as it looks 75% like Lite) I am talking about, was so jam-packed with zombies swinging in simple-harmonic motion, that my lungs had to extract O2  from CO2  to avoid asphyxiation. (On a historical note, Hitler's concentration camps were nothing but only-Jews-get-the-passes DJ Nites, conducted in ill-ventilated halls.)

The crowds here are a pervert's paradise, because, the delight of a pervert joyously making a way through the throng, is comparable only to the ecstasy of a child who is lost in a chocolate-cloud, with Pokemons and Doraemon circling him, in Noddy's car, driven by Harry Potter.                                                                              

And this is also a problem for the righteous souls because this high density audience here, may lead to a person catching AIDS, merely by trying to keep his head from fusing into the neighbor's armpits.

Now, coming to the music- I have always, since infancy, fantasized about hearing a robot rape a piano, tuned to high bass in a loudspeaker. It seems, they have now given a name to it. Skrillex. It's almost an aural holocaust, hearing the same tune being played over and over again until your auditory neurons, thankfully, break the loop and you end up deaf. In fact, amputating and stitching together totally unrelated songs seemed more justified to me after hearing this insanity called 'Electronic Dance Music'.

Anyways, to camouflage myself in this musical apocalypse, I desperately tried to dance and ended up looking like a polio patient showing his moves, after being overly inspired by watching Step Up 3D, three times. Then, I slowly disappeared from the place displaying my amateurish ninja-skills and later poured coolants in my ear to dissolve the atrocities faced by it before.

And finally tried my last chance at luck to regain sanity by listening to Coke Studio.