Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Over And Out

Home is like a game of Pacman.
The only way to survive is to run hither-and-thither from the family members, while continuously eating, who will, otherwise, surround and fast-feed you to dormancy.

And it's totally irrelevant whether you have returned home looking like a Sumo-wrestler on steroids or a shrunken-up Somali. Because the unreasonable and unscientific accusations of malnutrition and boniness remain just the same, only you can't argue back as something digestible has already been shoved through your throat.

Also, home is where your ferocious sleep-cycle is forcefully domesticated. So it's no more okay to rise up leisurely at 11am; and doing so only invites stares so deadly, you begin to wonder if your parents found Grand Masti on your laptop.

Nonetheless, it's a lot better than our semester days, as the only organs which now remain in a state of continued trauma belong down the abdominal region, our nervous system being completely free of strenuous planning and decision-making like- "T2 is in 2 hours, is it too late to take li8?"

Of course, I'm not talking about those greedy nerds (or is it career-oriented students?) who are currently whacking their brains out in internships (or is it like PS-1 again?) to spice up their CV which at present characterizes a cold saltless khichdi. And then, there also are those people, who are working from/at home like me, but don't get any credit or recognition, or as my mom puts it, "Khali baitha hai, matar chheel de."

And as it so happens every Christmas eve, I put on some age, once again, and turned two decades old. And this long time-span scares me because if I were a cat, I'd have just 7 lives left, and if I were a college, the alumni would pay me a visit in 5 years, to check if I've collapsed. Fortunately, age is one such rare number that requires no effort on your part to increase, just like your weight or debt.  

And since two years, I've been dutifully awaiting my "birds and the bees" sermon, not that I don't have all my basics in apiology and ornithology already clear; in fact, thanks to DC, there's almost nothing I need to know anymore; everything having been thoroughly demonstrated- be it a bird with a bee, a flock with a bee, a swarm over a sparrow, a flight across a hive, hornets around falcons, owls over honeycombs, vultures with kites over a gaggle, wasps and bumblebees buzzing around... you get my point, right?

But no. In India, there's no such concept and we are never going to have "the talk". And it doesn't even matter, because what is the news for?        

Anyway, I took a daring step on my birthday and went to watch Dhoom-3 without heeding the numerous warnings and criticisms I had heard and read; and after watching it could't help but think of Christopher Nolan's reaction if he had watched the movie.

Journo: Hello Sir! I'm a great fan and I've seen all your movies 2 times, including Inception which I failed to get twice. Well, how did you feel when you realized that this Aamir film too, like Ghajini, had picked up various plot points from your movies and dumbed it down in their movies, of course after having paralyzed the pace with the dance sequences and having screwed up the script with added plot-holes?
Nolan:  (in British accent) Bollywood walon, tumhari aisi ki taisi. 

And it's ironic how we people can tolerate and withstand all the indecency and hopelessness around, but our movies always must end happily. And if they don't, all the dead characters, be it the villains, or the heroes or the supporting characters, have to turn up in an ending dance sequence without fail to inform you about their safety and good health. So, if The Dark Knight was actually remade here, it wouldn't be surprising to see Harvey, Rachael and the Mayor dancing with Wayne, Joker, Alfred and Gordon in the ending credits with Joker playing silly tricks on little kids, on a song that may go like, "Na na na na Batman na na na na na, Gotham ke logon ko humein hai bachana.." and all that crap.

And coming to the "31st December" celebrations, various all night "open-sky" parties (which is just a glamorized way of saying, we could't afford a club) and DJ nights are being organized everywhere (because DJs are like engineering colleges, every gali has one of them, and most ain't any good). And everyone all over the country seems to be hyper-happy and super-excited, which might probably be due to the numerous Dhamaka Discounts the malls offer at this time, when people buy valuable accessories and decors for their homes, like new calenders. But anyway, there's nothing to complain about here, it's not like we have Gudi Padwa, Sankranti, Baisakhi, Ugadi, Vishu, Bihu, Cheiraoba, Puthandu and 100 other festivals to celebrate the onset of a new year.

Okay, anyway, I'll now refrain from my senile rants and rapidly retire, leaving you to dance in the cold air, and wish you'd stop horsing around at least this Year of the Horse, and have a kick-ass new year.

You're welcome. 

Monday, 11 November 2013

HIT THE.. never mind.

The last few days have been a blast, including Diwali, which is the festival that comes once a year to specially remind you, once again, of the pussy that you are deep within. And it gets particularly trickier when you're at a relative's house with tomboy cousins, who go on unintentionally insulting you by heroically lighting every known kind of explosive that can be possibly sold legally in stores, while you slip away sneakily, snuggling in the safety of the secure, yours truly, phuljhari.

Also Diwali comes with its fair share of shitty film-releases, which are like the cinematic equivalent of those phuski-bombs; except that the phuski might eventually blow up after a dramatic, attention-seeking pause, but there's no way the movie will ever make any sense to you on further contemplation, the only thing it manages to burn being your pockets.

Unfortunately and fortunately, this time, I managed to see Krrish3 and Gravity respectively. One was about people flying into space, meeting with horrendous mid-air collisions, to create a shitload of high-speed debris that could effectively wipe out a whole planet if properly projected. And the other had Sandra Bullock with shorter hair than mine.

And Krrish 3 proves yet again how "subtlety" falls right under "logic" in the list of Top 5 things Bollywood mercilessly hates. Because, the people at Gotham might erect a memorial statue for Batman with respect and gratitude and all, but their love will never be as sincere as here, in Mumbai, where they don't leave it at that and suddenly move on to dancing around Krrish's statue, to "God, Allah aur Bhagwan, ne banaya ek insaan", with ridiculously choreographed moves (Krrish, his wife, and father included). Seriously? You three mega-mighty-minds sat together and all you could come up with was this narcissistic bitch? I'll just go and upvote all the atheistic answers on Quora.

Gravity, on the other hand, takes the "Women can't drive" stereotype to an ionospheric level, with Bullock going bollocks over every damn craft she floats into, only to correctly land when Mr Clooney tells her how to handle the vehicle, in a dream that too. On the flip side, she does know how to give her boyfriend some space when needed. (And before you astronomical Nazis tweet the hell out of this post for its scientific inaccuracies no one gives a stardust of a damn about, it's actually the thermosphere and not ionosphere. Now, shush!)

And then after an unnecessary break of 3 working days, hit the best fest since fest (yeah, go figure) with a mind-numbing speech by the new director that consisted of throat-choking words like "law abiding citizens", "don't break the rules" and "enjoy responsibly", thus putting back "IIT" in "shiiiiiit!" Thankfully, this was followed by Mime, shortly after, which chose to communicate better messages without any speech.

Also this fest increased the number of celebrities I've seen at a safe 100 m distance, by around 10, depending on whom you may count as celebrities. And I realized how celebrities too are just like us mere mortals, with similar emotions and expressions, albeit slightly refined, when I hurriedly stuttered "Sir! Sir! Sir!" at Nikhil D'Souza, and complimented him with a smooth, flattering, "Awesome! Awesome! Awesome!" to which he responded with a weird stare.

And the surprise of the year undoubtedly goes to the sudden, almost UFO-ish appearance of Priyanka Chopra at the Karaoke Night (or it felt so), to join in with the audience to sing, along with her friends Vishal & Shekhar. I just wanted to quickly run to her and ask my 150/- on Krrish-3 back, but something about the dancing and singing crowd around reminded me of her fabulous performance in Barfi, and I chose to cut her some slack.
But of all the highlights of the fest, I'll personally cherish Kalki Koechlin sweeping my mind away as she swiftly passed by, few inches from me, never giving me a chance to convey how much I love her... well, husband. But I'll certainly try to make up for it by watching at least his next movie in a theater.

And so, with a quick fast-forward like pace has this fest ended throwing us back into the stuck-tape scenario that the post-Waves period is, with a resounding, repeating word, "compre". And this transition from rewind to revise is indeed hard. So let's once again, get calm, sit down and realize why we're actually here for, and steady our distracted minds to study. Of course after liking those Priyanka Chopra pics on FB, that is.

Signing out.




Wednesday, 9 October 2013

First Anniversary

He leaves her a final gift. A watch.
Time flies.
Too quickly. Too subtly.
As her heart ticks its own countdown.

Or maybe I've got too much of TTT on my wall; its posts being spammed everywhere by the FB literati who view this page as a beacon of hope for English, where spellings and grammar are not regarded as unnecessary luxuries and commas still matter. But I don't think our faculty has the intellectual depth for appreciating this exceptional form of talent, given how every time I try penning a creative little story that successfully fails to make any sense whatsoever, my answer sheet is assigned a null-pointer.

Anyway, speaking of time, it's almost been a year since we were busy celebrating the oncoming of 'Waves', which had an interesting theme, "Relive the Streets", which is like a shining career prospect for your everyday non-CS guy who has failed to get himself sucked into the sh-IT-hole. And the prime reason for the excitement was the upcoming performance of a popular band from the Kangaroo Kingdom, the "Dead Letter Circus", popular for having unconventionally chosen its name by picking 3 chits from a hat.

But, thankfully, this time, a lot of effort for pretending to know the songs will be saved, as we're going indigenous, and will have Vishal-Shekhar perform here. Yeah, those two men who composed a song appraising the youth of one particular woman 'Sheila', which till date remains the most celebrated Jawani preceding over its siblings 'Halkat' and 'Second-hand'. But Sheila and her self-overestimation apart, if there's one thing I've learnt from this Vishal guy, it's that, it's okay if you make mistakes as long as you can make up for them. Like how, playing a horny baldy in a song's video can be made up for, by singing at the Coke Studio.

Also, there'll be another event, which most of us can safely forget about, by default. No. Not Spree. That's too far away. It's the Waves Ball; which has a classy theme "The Great Gatsby", which obviously doesn't matter anyway. Yeah, yeah, sigh and frown, but there's a reason it's called 'Ball'. A pair of them is needed to go ask out. But I think, it'll be safer to give it a try at least this time, because even if you are rejected, you'll be dumped "like a Sir". 

Or you can just catch the Femina Miss India 2014 auditions at the campus, which is, as the poster says, "The chance of a Lifetime", for us enthusiastic engineers to drool over.

Also, it's good to be getting associated with the very critically acclaimed paper, "The Hindu", which is especially renowned for its, well, not being The Times of India. But it'd be a really challenging task for TOI, if it were our media partner; striving and struggling to find a little hint of a nano-sized quantum of glamour amongst us; only to eventually go- "Ah! Screw you! I'll just write up some goddamn news."

And last but not the least, there will be Shiamak Davar, that Jurassic-aged choreographer who has been credited for teaching Jesus his moves. Or maybe it's just the posters and he isn't actually coming. Well, this poster cleverly flashes him to get all the misinterpreted attention, with a small, "in association" written somewhere, which takes me back to those good ol' days when I used to brag about how I got into "B.I.T.S. PILANI", only to reveal to my close friends- "Pssst.... Goa. Goa Campus."  

Also, today happens to be that special day when this blog, which had been started with the motto to compile all my seemingly useless FB posts into one page which could then be comfortably ignored at one go, turns one year old. Okay, I lied. It was yesterday actually, but I couldn't write owing to the post-lunch lab hours that had pipetted the soul out of me. However, it doesn't really matter. No one gives a shit either way. 

And if you'll now excuse me, I've to try and deduce some meaning out of a strange series of images.
Or I'll just sleep and complete the movie tomorrow. See you!       






Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Times Now

It's been a while since Test-1, and you might have already received your instant-scholastic-karma- points, a.k.a., answer sheets; helping you to thoroughly analyze and introspect your presently poor performance, and chalk out an action plan for your academic improvement, which roughly translates to: "Next sem fodenge!"

Then again, it'd be lame to worry about trivial things like T-1, when many amusing events so eagerly await us. Yes! You got it! I'm talking about our very own desi Hugh Hefner, Asaram Bapu, and his bail plea hearing on October 1st, when we'd, once again, get to hear his badass(hole) lawyer, Jethmalani's scientific breakthroughs, in defense of Bapu's innocent escapades. Like the last time, when he accused the victim of being afflicted with a disease 'that draws a woman to a man'. (On an unrelated note, it'd be really interesting if he had hypothesized that disease to be bacterial and working the other way round. In other words, Delhi would have one more microorganism named after it.)

But, who knows? This time, he might just blame it all on the ominous title 'Bapu', that already has this evil reputation of, first elevating the designated person to an improbably high spiritual pedestal, then throwing him down eventually, head-first, into a muck of weird sexual allegations.

Gandhi jokes apart, we also have Zephyr, sometime in future, yeah, that 'inter-house drama competition in school' equivalent of our college. Because, remember how half of those houses didn't give a do kaudi ka damn about the event, preferring to just fool around on stage, while the remaining half fought it out with abundant amounts of over-action, only to win a not-so-noteworthy prize? It's the same here; except, the hostels, and not houses, are the ones competing, and the hostels actually are our houses. But then, we never had any expectations from Zephyr, given its annoying habit of not going international like the rest of our fests, which reportedly go. But, yeah it can time-travel.

And don't even start about the comedy night. For, until my "SWD Dues" shows- Rs <what are you staring at, you penniless nincompoop?>  I'll rather choose to watch Dhoom 3 teaser again and again, laughing hysterically each time, till I slowly get sucked into Abhishek's aura of theatrical autism and disappear; than pay Rs 100 to hear two comedians cracking some silly jokes on... I don't know. I'll just keep my money.

Or I can just indulge myself in Twitter, and find out some totally valid reasons for why Miss America is like the PR head of Al Qaeda. And also realize that, it's actually legitimate to mistake Indians as Arabs, considering how we have exported an entire state to Dubai.

(But yes, it surely does seem fishy how this geeky gulti, who once won the National Honor Society Award, Michigan Merit Award and various other nerd honors, decided to stop wearing glasses one fine day, and turned glamorous overnight. I mean, what does she even think she is? Deepika from YJHD? And meanwhile, the US government might have been too excited for saving at least one software job from an N.R.(South)I., to notice this oddity. No, just saying.)

Or, I can opt to not degrade my already weak geography, and continue watching a 1000 different reviews of GTA-V, where you can apparently play Miley, and paraglide off a skyscraper, twerk against a grenade-launcher midair, ultimately land on an SUV of some black drug lord, distract him with the GOPLAYSOMEBASKETBALLNOW cheat, then steal a bike, go to a bar run by an over-the-top-brownish Indian, and peacefully order a hammer tikka masala, after killing a hooker obviously.    

But of course, all these choices have been thought of, assuming I'll have no work this weekend. Which won't be the case, if the Prof who first gave me a Project, and then, conveniently forgot my existence, suddenly remembers about the piling deadlines.

So, to quickly and dramatically conclude, it's a tough job to be a III-yearite, especially when you still are as clueless as ever, with the subjects taking mysterious twists and turns and the lectures sounding like Pitbull's songs- understandable up to the second line, all Greek and Spanish thereafter. But all we can do is pretend and act like everything is normal, with optimistic and positive thoughts. Like how you can soon save a '100 bucks'. If you want to, that is.






Monday, 19 August 2013

Hello '13

Firstly, my heartfelt greetings to the 2013 batch for making it through BITSAT, despite the high cut-offs, which have been speedily and shockingly increasing every year, just like our... well, Convocation Chief-guests' awesomeness. (Now I'd certainly avoid using obscene words like 'fees' in this post at least, wouldn't I?) Although, I assume you might have already gotten out of that "Yayyyy!! I'm in BITS! Second greatest thing I did in my life after surviving 2012! \m/ \m/" mode, since it's been almost a month and you might be now busy chattering at mess. Or at library. Or at inductions.  

Well, two years have passed, since I hit the educational lottery on 1st July, 2011, when I received the 1st Iteration confirmation letter for pursuing "B.Pharmacy at BITS-Pilani", or as the Quorans querying about BITS-Goa call it, "doing drugs". And I still owe my success in the entrance test to Physics. Because nothing less than Quantum Mechanics can explain the infinitesimal probability of such an unlikely event. And shortly later, began my euphoric outbursts of disbelief and ecstasy which could be compared only with the reactions of the first men on moon-

Neil:       That's one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.
Edwin:   Dude! Talk like a jerk once more and I'll start those Arm-strong jokes all over again.
Neil:       They were recording it man!
Edwin:   What? Couldn't you say something cool like, "The view has left me out of breath" or "These things happen just once; on a blue moon" or "Nobody can understand the gravity of my situation" or a simple "I'm over the moon" ?
Neil:        Okay. But tell me, how could I wink through a helmet?!
meanwhile in the command module...
Michael: Signed up for moon. Didn't walk on it. Life is one real Bitch!

Also, it's nice to see that this batch isn't as dumb as it portrayed itself to be in the "BITSAT 2013" FB group, where various thought-provoking questions were asked, the thought provoked being- how the hell did they get in here? Example: "I've a EEE degree. Should I bring a screw-driver or a protective coat with me?" I just wonder what all he'd have thought of bringing if he had an MSc Bio degree. But the questioner can't be totally blamed too, considering how deeply Aamir Khan's movies influence the Indian student's mindset. (Like how I still blame TZP for my haphazard handwriting and can justify the extremely rare phenomenon of a pretty girl talking to me only by assuming she is a ghost.)

But, my personal favorite is, "Pilani campus has a medical centre?" I mean, you first compete with people from across the country and then finally get selected to be sent to a remote area in Rajasthan without a railway line and an extreme climate and are also not provided any medical supervision. Now, what the hell do you think this is? AXN Survivor?

But then, I don't have a right to comment on this matter, as I had made an FB account only by the end of my first semester, not knowing till then, that there was an exclusive online platform for doing what I had so efficiently done through my whole schooling; saying something silly and waiting for people to respond. Although I'd have probably asked saner and better questions like, "Does anyone else here owe their seat to a Griha Shanti Puja?"

Also you 13-ites might have discovered by now, that sober people do exist at Goa, however incredible and preposterous the idea might seem, and that it isn't always "Booze is the secret of my energy" here.
(A teetotaler Devdas myself, the only thing I ever got high on was a cough syrup overdose, and this has its own pros and cons.
Pros: You get to act like a self-righteous asshole every time someone takes a shot.
Cons: The pros exist only until your friends find out that the real reason for your abstinence is saving money.)

But I only wish that, more of you had turned up at inductions, thus giving us the egoistic pleasure of judging and scrutinizing you, rather than coming in so few a number, we start feeling insecure and nonexistent. Though, I'd also like to add, that attend an induction only if you're interested and inclined towards the respective work and not because all your friends are going too. Because the later doesn't help much in most cases and is also the prime reason why most of us are in engineering colleges and yet not into engineering.

And before I wind up, one last piece of the most common and yet the most neglected advice- Do Attend Classes. Well, this might seem pretty easy at first, (except in my case; me being destined to bunk my first ever class at BITS, by sitting in an almost empty classroom with 5 others, muttering about the shocking absence of the rest of the students and the professor only to realize 40 minutes later, that it was a Tuesday, unlike a Monday) but the habit gradually fades away as the Goan air starts settling into you. And if you're still wondering why it so happens, search Quora. There might be a smartass answer in there for it too.

Signing out.

Nah, I won't badmouth the messes. I've lost the appetite for all food-jokes.  

Friday, 5 July 2013

Card Attack

Or going by the medical terminology- 'Card-yuck! Argh-est', is that intense displeasure you feel on seeing few neatly placed alphabets and digits, that reflect how little you have learnt since those childhood days, when you struggled scribbling those alphabets and digits. (Southies: Remember that period of your life, when you were busy solving 'Narayana Material for Neonatals', sucking a set-square simultaneously? Yes, that's called 'Childhood'. Northies: Childhood is that stage of... Meh! You won't get it. You were winking at a nurse from your foetal sonogram.)

Honestly speaking, I was never a believer of "Blow At First Sight". But this was before I met that card. It was raining that day; those memories still fresh and vivid in my mind. I was alone in a dimly lit room with it, slowly proceeding to open its envelope, while the raindrops splattered against the shivering windows. I gently trembled as I laid my hands on it, yet cautiously continued against my pounding heart; until finally, it laid bare before my eyes, leaving me bewildered. And it was at this intense moment that my parents stepped inside the room, and the episode took an awkward twist.

Mom: The hell! An E?
Me:    (in the tone of that annoying Parle-G ad) Mom, E mane Excellent.
Mom: Beta, that joke is so ancient, BITS used to be a non-profit organization then.
Me:    What? I heard it for the first time at our college orientation! Anyways when was the last time you made an            original joke?
Mom: If my memory isn't bad, back on 24th December, 1993 I guess.
Me:    But that's my birt..
Mom: Exactly.

On a serious note, now I do know, why 'E' stands for 'exposed' (as given in our grade-cards). It's because it totally strips you down in front of your family, neighbors, friends and other inquisitive assholes who suddenly materialize into existence at such critical times, like abruptly erupting dormant volcanoes, rubbing garam masala into your wounds and steaming out your self-esteem. But again, 'asshole' is a relative term. I prefer using it for my relentless relatives.

And next inevitably, comes up the topic of fees, which now feels like a huge investment with no returns. Or rather, the only thing that returns is a dull wannabe-engineer who rebounds home from PS every weekend.
Reportedly, the reason for the fee hike was to boost the faculty-salaries. Well that's sweet! But who the hell figures out the finances? Robin Hood? Okay, I apologize. In that case, the transaction would be the other way round.

On the flip side, the Scholarship might be increased, but again, this increase would be as useful to me as a bookmark for a dictionary, as the applicants have to be either meritorious (which anyhow I ain't) and/or needy (which somehow I ain't). But being of revolutionary and rebellious nature since infancy, I'll continue passionately signing petitions on Change.org and will sincerely support all the FB groups named anything Maggi-ish by 'liking' and also won't hesitate to spam there. Yes. You're welcome.)

Eventually begins the speculation-sport, in which the players of the team (composed of parents and near family members) take turns and throw random accusations for your hopeless score, which you have to cleverly and cunningly contradict with intelligent arguments. Well, let me illustrate some of their usual suspects-

Trips?  Nope. Can't afford.
Tours?  Nope. Can't afford.
Drugs?   Nope. Can't afford.
Drinks?   Nope. Can't afford.
Smokes?   Nope. Can't afford.
Girlfriend? Are you even listening?

But before you gone-graders start feeling utterly helpless and hopeless, and do something seriously stupid like, well, most of the things you usually do, let me remind you that your CGPA is a mere number. Just like your ATM PIN is a mere number. Except it would be really disturbing to see someone laugh at your PIN.

So basically, these times are sad, and to be accurate, as sad as the jokes that go something like-
 Year AD hona chahiye.
BC toh tu bhi hai 
Yet, we bravely survived through those, didn't we? So let's keep up the same spirit, and meanwhile celebrate the good things in our lives. Like how the BITS administration cracked a subtle joke by building kitchen in the girls' hostels. (Damn! Now I AM running a risk of getting karate-chopped.)

And lastly, I'd like to add that, curse however you might, but the bitter truth is, your CGPA card acts just like a mirror, by instantly letting you down, every single time you throw a glimpse at it. And also by reflecting your progress through your academic life. So, you better go study from now on, unless you want to follow an easier plan, in which case- It's simple. We kill the postman.

Saturday, 1 June 2013

Go Bhilai Gone

I know it's very late to rant and cry about PS now, but hell, how else can I pass my 100% natural and free and room-delivered tanning time on a day-off? So here goes my PS die-ry.

So, the PS is the place where we finally get to meet those lucky students, who don't have to give thousands of varied explanations for their college's name, geographical location, origin, history, background, affiliation, credentials and other fun-trivia to every questioning passerby, in short, the BITS-Pians. And it's good to see that there's isn't much intellectual difference between us and the Pilani people (as popularly assumed (in Pilani)) except that we don't think about camels when we hear the word 'hump'. 

Anyways, let's desert the stereotypes and move on with what happened next. So, we, the Chemical Engineers, had to begin by exploring the Coke-Oven (interior temperature = 1600-1800°C ) on the first day. The sign-board, hiding amongst a clutter of shitty safety slogans, at about 0.5km from the main gate, said "Coke Oven and CCD  3.5km". A shiver of ecstasy ran through our spines; we had a damn CCD inside! And thus with this shimmering ray of hope, we dragged ourselves through the Lava-is-in-the-air surroundings beside Blast Furnaces, took lift from a My-grandpa-can-sleepwalk-faster crane, made it across the dense Fart'll-be-more-fragrant atmosphere of coke-oven gas, and finally reached the destination. There, we met the head of the Coal Handling section who turned out to be a very enthusiastic person. His every word a pearl of positivity, every act a gem of generosity.

He:  Aap kaunse college se ho?
We: BITS Pilani, Go.. (owing to previous experiences) BITS, Sir.
He:  Achha! Ye kaunsa NIT hai?
We: (uncomfortably long awkward pause) Private hai Sir, ye NITs mein nahin aata.
He:  Branch kya hai?  
We: B.E. Chemical Engineering, Sir.
He:  Chemical Engineering? (guffaws) Chemical kyun liye?
We: Liye kya Sir. Mila. (no, that's what we thought, we actually said->) Bahut scope hai Sir.
He:  Achha! Mein bhi Chemical Engineer hoon. Mera kya scope hai?
We: (a 2 minute 'What the...' moment, then a sensitive Chemical guy aggressively responds) Kyun nahin hai  
         Sir? Petrochemicals, polymers, biotechnology, nano-materials, pharmaceuticals, synthetic textiles... aur     
         Research mein bhi scope hai.
He: (still unconvinced as ever) Ab yeh to apna-apna choice hai. 

And then he explained us various processes under his supervision as we scribbled on our diaries while silently salivating and desperately daydreaming about brownies and frappes we were going to have. Finally he ended his speech with a-

He:  Koi doubt hai?
We: Sir, yahaan CCD kahaan hai?
He:  Arey aaj jaana nahin hoga.
We: (with choked throats) Kyon Sir?
He: Aaj Coke-oven and Chemical Department ke DGM nahin aaye hain.

Complete. Pin-drop. Silence. Except for a clock hauntingly ticking in the background.

Moral of the Story: Chemical Engineering mein scope hai.

And after a dehydrating and disappointing day, FB finally adds the decomposed icing on the decaying cake, by showcasing how people around the world are performing awesome feats while I lie here reading 'Yo Mama' jokes on the net. (In my defense, I'm reading those on Quora, so that makes me elite by default.)
Let me elaborate:

(a) Well, BITS Goa has yet again proved itself to be very coding-conscious as in how people here know more about G-SoC than G-Spot. (Now you're Googling, dammit!)

(b) And then some are flashing their glowing GPAs. And CGPAs. And the growth of their GPAs. And the histograms of their CDC grades. And their attendance-to-GPA ratios. And logarithms of individual semester (GPA/CGPA). And inverse tangents of (GPA x 12th Board %). And a hyperbolic of.... Well why don't they just post their ERP passwords?

(c) Lastly, some are proclaiming to have an amazing PS. Now 'amazing PS' is an oxy(you)moron! Get with it.

Well I understand, that this all has been done with an intensely innocent intention of sharing your happiness with the world because you're too excited to hold on to it yourself. Just like how a suicide-bomber can't help but share his religious sentiments with others. *Boom*

So to sum up, the only good thing about the PS is going home on a Sunday. For me. Which is 3 hours away by train. (C'mon I'm just sharing my happiness here!) Preferably in a general compartment. Preferably, because, a general compartment has its own share of joys:

(a) Nostalgia hits you black-and-blue as the guy beside you plays Govinda songs (c/o blaring-mobile-phone-speakers) with lyrics so mentally stimulating, they put Yoyo Honey Singh's poetry to shame; songs like, "Mein Laila Laila chillaunga Kurta Faadke" (Translation: "Laila Laila" will I shout, tearin.. Okay forget it.)

(b) You get so high by passively smoking beedi after beedi, you might as well freak your wits out seeing outside the window saying, "Holy Shit! The trees are running!"

It's another story that Mom doesn't like it when I show up looking like a piece of coke dipped in a glass of coke. But it's okay. As long as I ain't abandoned for Angelina to adopt.

So now, it's time I end this envious entry, with a very sweet, noteworthy and helpful message I came across at the Steel Plant Main Gate, which has been imprinted in my mind since. And before I leave, I do hope that you all follow and share it to make this world a brighter and a better place. So here it goes:

Safety At Plant 
    Safe Tea* At Home    

*No, I didn't add the underline. 



Thursday, 9 May 2013

Done With It.

Ignorance is bliss.
Unless you are reminded of it, repeatedly, without a pause, for 3 hours straight, in a closed room, with a screwed up AC, thrice a week.

Coming out of the exam-hall feels like watching the end-credits of Man vs Wild. Yes, there's so much in common in those episodes and this experience, as in, how our answers correspond to those dense forests: senseless, directionless and full of shit. You can hear animals making eerie, terrifying sounds like, "Sir! Additional Sheet!", yet, can't kill them due to some legal obligations. And in the climax, you realize how your only accomplishment is just that you've survived. (Of course, before remembering the fact that this is going to happen all over again.)

And strangely when writing an exam, it's not the peeking student, who wants to check out your views and opinions about the Carbon Content in Malleable Cast Iron, who annoys you, but a mocking professor who laughs at your answer with an expression of, "Seriously? That was the best thing you could come up with?" And you silently respond with, "Well. Sort of, yeah. But there's a killer twist in the end."

And as if the tests weren't enough, there's this merciless act of paper-distribution which almost feels like the prof's comeback on the joke that your paper was. Here, they assign a number to show your relative proximity to being an academic Titanic. And believe me, it hurts, when the teacher and her assistant look at you and then exchange knowing smiles, telepathically stating, "Remember that dumbass answer we laughed at for like, 1 hour? It's his."    

But the highlight was the POM exam, which made all students realize that the M in the name actually stood for Memory and not Management, contrary to popular opinion, as that was what they had essentially tested. Well, how else can one justify asking us to write the fourteen principles of *forgot, will soon check*, when the only time we correctly answered ten things in the right order was when our relatives asked us the name of our college? But the best part of the paper was the Case Study of a guy called Rohit and his TDC boss Ashish, which looked like lyrics lifted off some One Direction song, a paragraph in which went like this:

He smiled to himself when he thought of how Ashish would react when told about his several possible solutions to the problem. He was sure Ashish would be happy with him, having put in so much effort into the project, right from day one. Rohit was daydreaming about all the praise that he was going to get when Ashish walked into the office. He waited for him to go into his workplace, and after five minutes, called him up, asking to see him. Then Rohit went to his office, where, after a long awkward silence, they eventually made out. 

Well, sorry! I made up the making out part (Ob) but the rest of it is for real! And I bet the paper would be a lot more interesting if they had ended the questions that followed, like this:

Q. What can a team leader do to ensure high levels of motivation among his/her team members?

So, yes, I have now officially given up on Compre and can't wait to splash my ignorance towards worldly matters like Heat Transfer, Mass Transfer, etc-coz-I-don't-remember-the-rest, all over PS too.

And if any of the readers are feeling bad for relating with this post, well, chill! At least, you are not going to Ramagundam (avg-summer-temperature=45°C), to work at a Thermal Power Station, in peak summer; thus abbreviating PS to 'Pain in the S'. (Assuming that those going there for PS, are too busy cursing their karma for eating a barbecue chicken once, to read this post.)    

So, wishing you Happy-PS/vacations depending on whether you are going to be completely jobless. Or, at home. And to the rest, see you at Bhilai!  


Friday, 19 April 2013

Inspiration & Stuff

So, I was busy lazying around this one month trying to realize my purpose and goals in life. Seriously. It has been my most unproductive semester in the campus with no electives, valley-low attendance and scuba-diving C**A. Yes, it sucks, when you say "CDCs" and people think you are stating your mid-sem grades. And when that too is, unfortunately, true. So, somehow I tried to get out of this sulky mood and started watching inspirational videos on DC. Now, here are the reasons why you shouldn't watch inspirational videos when you are desperately in need of inspiration:

(a) Zero relatability- : "Holy Trinity! When that one-legged black guy, with partial paralysis and traces of cancer, with a side dish of herpes, whose wife divorced him, twice, leaving him homeless in two installments, can skateboard through a turbulent tornado by directly cutting across a rainbow and bouncing off a volcano, why can't I study for my test which is in like, fifteen minutes?", felt no one ever.

(b) Background music- So the inspiring guy in the video starts with a narration of his sad beginnings. There are violins and flutes playing. Good enough. He lays the foundation of his success story. Violins and cellos again. Okay. He encounters many hurdles and overcomes all. The damn flute makes a guest appearance amidst the violins and cellos this time. Damn!. Then comes the dramatic climax and the hero finally steals the show. Violins. Cellos. Flutes. Again. Now where the hell are the bass guitars when we really need them?

(c) Temporary Arousal- Sometimes we do feel motivated but that phase lasts for only about 59 seconds after watching the video. Just like the way you feel like screwing bulbs into every damn socket visible, for a day after watching Swades or how you dream of repeatedly pushing Abhishek Bachhan into all waterfalls and canyons, for a month after watching Raavan. But after sometime you'll be back to your usual/useless self.

I don't know much about the inspirational books as I have read just one "You can win", and yes, it surely helped to score in my board exams. I used it to write an essay on a book I had recently read and learnt nothing from. I still think I should have read something else to feel high and happy, but then, "Fifty Shades of Grey" wasn't yet published.  

So how to come out of this illogical depression and get your act together to do something worth doing? Well here are some tips I have recently learnt (Okay I hate writing philosophical stuff, still):

(a) Avoid Assholes Always. Assholes come in all shapes and sizes and live camouflaged around you. But there's a reason nature considered only one of it enough for survival. Assholes are just like black-holes, only that instead of matter and light, they totally suck out your positive energy until you are degraded morally, and start taking lite in all matters. Hence stay as far from them as possible; and never give anyone a chance to bring you down. Even if it is an elevator. Because it shows how frigging lazy you are to not walk to the floor below.     

(b) Know your Strengths. Yes, you might have heard/read many times about knowing your weaknesses. Well, screw it. The society has already been doing the job of reminding us of our drawbacks quite well. So it's time to concentrate on your pros and show what you're a pro in, rather than being conned into despair by your inadequacies. So the next time some discouraging soul acts like a pain in the neck, shove your awesomeness so deep down his throat, he wouldn't even be able to puke without praising you.

(c) Forget Time Tables. We all have in our lives tried out laying out detailed schedules of the activities to be done the following week, which we have miserably failed to follow. But things should be done, when you really feel like doing it, to get the most productive results. Besides deadlines and due-dates, you need not always stick to a plan and extinguish the spur of the moment. And you know what, even the Joker feels the same.
(d) Give it a Shot. Anything good is definitely worth an attempt. As life is too long to fear a petty failure and too short to not do your liking and regret later. And even if you fail, hide the sad story until you succeed. Then, you can use it to spice up your Oscar Winning Speech or in your autobiography or in an interview or... okay whatever, just remember the damn thing.

(e) Be Positive. Enough said.

And with this I would like to close the scroll and promise never to preach again. As for the Compre, we'll anyhow manage it as always; and in the meanwhile, join the Pool Party Facebook Event, even if you haven't come, just to look cool in front of your friends from other colleges. Yes, you may study now.   

Sunday, 17 March 2013

Batons & Baltis

Yeah, it's that time of the year again, when the 3rd year people dust off their responsibilities and let the juniors get dirty. So, 'Passing on the batons', as they call it, is basically the act of turning few core-members into coordinators, helping them accomplish their long-held dream of dining at VGH wearing suits; while the borderline-fortunate are granted posts like Hypothetical Head, Nonsensical Head, Psychological Head, Empirical Head, Ironical Head etc And the rest are given an imaginary balti to cry over while they ponder upon the futility of their lives.

Well these selections happen in various ways. Interviews are involved in most cases and so are SOPs (Statement Of Power-hungriness) In the SOP, you are asked to write what you have done/ pretended to have done/ accredited to yourself what someone else has done, for the department/club. And also, why you feel you are the only deserving person in the Milky Way and the neighboring Andromeda region, capable of holding that post. The second question is obviously answered in the most honest and sincerest way possible, with the applicant humbly recounting all his/her virtues and merits, real and probable. In short, if egotism wiped off, SOP would be its toilet-paper.

Then comes the interview part, where the applicant is questioned by the previous coordination committee on his ideas, opinions, interests, cuisine preferences, views on liberalism, religious beliefs, past medical history and so on. Here is an excerpt from one such interview I eavesdropped into-

Senior- So, what has been your contribution to the department?
Junior- I've devotedly attended all the 5 outings and have contributed Rs 200 for my food and transport. But seriously I'm too bored of always going to Bogmallo for the outings now. Seriously. It has been so many times, that nowadays whenever John sees me entering his shack he is like, 'Dude! Not you again.' But the chicken lollipop there is incredibly awesome. Anyways, what was the question again?

Senior- Where would you like to see this department in the future?
Junior- Utorda. I mean it is the most awesome white-sand beach I've ever seen. And did you eat at Zeebop? It's amazing. Yeah, we'll go there next time when I'll give my chief-coordinator treat. *wink*wink*

Senior- Tell us why you feel that you are best-suited for the posts of Chief-co, Waves-co, Spree-co, Quark-co, Zephyr-co, I-have-no-clue-why-this-post-exists-co, *Insert-a-stylish-sounding-word-here*-organizer, *Another-one-just-for-you*-manager, and 52 other randomly generated posts.
Junior- I have the potentiality, the capability, the caliber, the capacity, the talent, the aptitude, the competence, the faculty, the... Okay I've run out of all the synonyms now. What's the next question?

Senior- Who would you like to remove from the department, if you could?
Junior- That jerk named XYZ. I mean he's such an asshole he almost looks like one. But I only wish he could keep his shit to himself. LMAO. What? Didn't get it?

Senior- C'mon now! You don't get brownie points for being a bitch. And what's your CGPA?
Junior- Dude! CGPA seriously? What are you? My mom?

Senior- Let me give you a hypothetical situation, in which a girl from some outside campus comes to our fest, Waves, gets kidnapped, is released in BITS Hyderabad on-stage in a fashion-show, and gets all famous on FB, and gets some 873 likes on her pics. Now, how will you prevent our department from earning a bad reputation for this incident?
Junior- I would totally take her to Waves-ball and write a story about us on BITS Confessions. I just love  hypothetical situations.

Senior- Who of the other applicants do you think, should be given those posts you have applied for?
Junior- Well, throw me a title and I won't give a damn even if the rest of the posts are allotted via a game of musical chairs, played using Reshmaiyya's discography, on a broken gramophone. But as you are asking let me figure out. Okay choose one of these fingers. Yeah, make ABC Spree-co and PQR Quark-co. Now choose again. What? It was your question!

Senior- Okay. We are done.
Junior- Smoking Amazeballs! I'm the chief right? Wait I'm calling up my mom.

Well, I'm surely a racist when it comes to life. I want it to be fair. But sometimes we fail in getting what we want. Some feel infuriated and blame others, some feel defeated and distressed, while some accept it and rectify themselves. But the trick is to move on. With optimism and dignity. And if we contemplate on a philosophical plane; whenever it seems like the world is not responding to our pleas in a... HOLY SHIT! The video I clicked on yesterday has finally buffered. Catch you later. Bye!

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Confessions, Compliments, Custard, Whatever

These days, there has been a disease that's rapidly infecting the campus, making the students involuntarily spray their stupidity all over the Facebook. Okay, that's basically what FB is for, but wait, now we have specific pages for that, reading which may leave your brain in a comatose state of WTF (what's this foolishness?) Of course, this trend too has reached the campus via the same age-old traditional route of ,"I actually started at some American University, that makes me unreasonably awesome by default, then IIT spotted me and went bananas and nuts, and then stepped in, the BITS, thinking,'Okay, what exactly are we waiting for?' and so on..."

So the page that is in the spotlight is called 'BITS Confessions'; it consists of numerous outpourings of students' darkest secrets (as only a retard would dare to do those things in broad daylight) which obviously are very true, in the same way as I'm true, when I say I go to C-Mess, for its mouthwatering dishes. And the confessions can be roughly divided into these categories below-

(a) I am amazing- No, seriously. I mean, how else could I force my Prof to give me an A, by claiming to be a zombie with moderate make-up and threatening to eat him alive otherwise? Or when I smoked heavily in front of a Security Guard and silently escaped vomiting and swaying, while he wondered whether ghosts could puke! And did I tell you about, how I had written my own recommendations, while my Profs wrote my exams, in exchange of some false medical-prescriptions? And someone else is doing my MS in MIT by the way. So, in short, I am awesome.

(b) I have an adventurous love-life- Yes. Me and my partner are so into each other that we frequently go behind *censored* and continue with *parental advisory: explicit content* ending it with a final touch of *rated R* and then return to our hostels. In fact, I am not a human. I am a blob of testosterone walking. Hence, at the end of my college-years, the probability of me getting gonorrhea is greatly greater than me getting graduated. But in my defense, why should only the boy take all the blame?

(c) I rock at revenge- I am known all over the campus for my temper, which is, like my various other attributes, very short. So, I instantly got irritated when my neighbor continued spamming in DC and FB about some stupid event, and thus set fire to his laptop and later, to him. And the wonderful thing is, he still doesn't know who killed him. But it indeed was a very funny incident. (But I still can't understand why our warden couldn't see much humor in it!)

(d) I am a Die-Hard despo- I am a total chick-magnet; only that, magnets, unfortunately, also repel. I have till now proposed 95 different people with feminine nicks in DC main chat. And sadly got rejected there too. I tried calling girls from my phone-contacts but all of the numbers seemed to dial up Liam Neeson from Taken. (Or were they the annoyed fathers?) Seeing my starved condition, even my friends left me saying, 'Sorry bro. But we can still be frien... Shit!' Sadly, my laptop too has been infected by Dropper and various other viruses so many times, that even a 'performer' from Las Vegas would find it too filthy to use. In short, if you find me hanging somewhere, think twice before touching the suicide-note lying nearby.

(e) I am confused- I, actually, was about to spam on FB, about how attending these fest-nights would change your life forever, for a price of Rs 250 of course, or of Rs 200, depending on whether you'll order those two shirts, a jersey, a petticoat, a doormat, a tissue-paper, a used sock etc on SWD. But on seeing this link, I posted my plea here. I also wanted to praise someone, but owing to my vocabulary, which is so poor even a Somalian would feel posh in comparison, I've posted that too here, instead of doing so on the BITS Compliments page. I sometimes feel that even the teachers should start making announcements here instead of sending Farmville requests, for instance:

Confession #420
All you Chemical people may/may not have a surprise-test/assignment in the lecture/tutorial class of Material Science/Mass transfer. So do attend all the classes. Teehee!


And there are other weird categories too, like the one where a person anonymously replies in his confession, to another confession made by some other anonymous person. I mean,what's this? Omegle?

And worse is the page, 'BITS Proposals' where-
(a) In case of girls- A someone proposes a girl, thus increasing her self-esteem exponentially, making her famous and proud, without any point, as he still remains incognito. So, in a way it's like, you conducting a vigorous PR Drive for the fest of some college you aren't even a part of. In short, useless. But if you really want to compliment, then post it on BITS Compliments. At least it looks neater there.
(b) In case of boys- Dude, chill! It's just your slightly gay friend making an advance at you.

I still didn't get the point of BITS Abuses. Yet I think it's okay, for those who think that throwing expletives on someone, while safely hiding in a pit themselves, is mature enough. But on a whole, it's all good, as these pages are at least trying to stimulate the creativity of the frustrated souls in the campus, as they desperately try to pen down a power-packed Sunny Leone movie (Yes. Movie.) into a paragraph.

So seriously guys, grow up. And if you'll excuse me, I have to go propose myself on BITS Proposals.

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Will you be my...?

"Dogs bark. Bitches friendzone."
                                                                                                                - Aristotle, on canine behavior

So, it's that time of the year again when we start feeling as desperate as that poor Tyrannosaurus Rex, which hid under a tin shed to prevent getting wet due to heavy rains. Sadly, it was raining asteroids and it died.
Yes, tomorrow is 14th February; that esteemed day, when the Dutch Drees government presented its plan to build 30000 houses, in the year 1949. And also the Valentines Day. Meh.

So, now there's an inflow of cheesy apps like Love-calculator, Love-simulator, Love-refrigerator, Love-alligator, Love-thermoregulator, Love-superadministrator etc all over the net. (One of which calculated a 100% compatibility between me and Mayawati. (No I didn't enter any surname))

And this day, like diarrhea, comes with various symptoms before finally squeezing the shit out of people; namely-
07/2 - Rose day
08/2 - Propose day
09/2 - Remember the slap you got yester-day
10/2 - Stop stalking her FB profile (and her!) from to-day
11/2 - Damn! Why is it Mon-day?
12/2 - WTH! The street dogs are celebrating Kiss-day
13/2 - Shit! I'm again with my pet octopus on Hug-day
14/2-  Say 'Valentine' again and I'll bloody hammer your brains. Yeah; day

But if you believe in directly coming to the point instead of wasting money on Teddy bears and gummy bears, here are some tips for all you single-helplessly-waiting-to-mingle to make this day an unforgettable memory. These are some acts you have to perform to successfully change your relationship-status on FB from "single" to "it's complicated (coz I accidentally lifted few relationship tips from some evil loser's blog)"

So here goes the list, with the success-probability and difficulty-level increasing, as you go down. *Drumroll*

Level I- Wear a rose (or roses, depending on your budget) on your shirt permanently for the whole day. It is also cheap, as you may use that unused rose from the Rose Day. Yeah, it looks odd and weird. But it totally helped Nehru 'mount his baton'.

Level II- Go guitarist. Come on, we are all engineers, and our first and foremost duty to our nation is to play that godforsaken 'Godfather' theme on the goddamned guitar. So take that wooden stringed instrument wherever you go and keep thrumming it periodically. The guitar, I mean. And you may add a medley of songs like Bruno Mars' 'Grenade' poisoned by a sadistic potion of 'Sheela Ki Jawani' and 'Jeena Yahaan Marna Yahaan' and end up driving all the musically-challenged girls crazy. But it works only if  you are called Gajendra Verma and you are playing in an auditorium.  

Level III- Act blind. Wear your goggles, take a stick and walk coolly, until your crush comes and you abruptly fall on her. Now, there are two possibilities:
(1) She may pity you and sympathetically ask, 'Are you blind?' Reply, 'Yes' Now, gauging her emotion, gently add, 'And so is my love.'
(2) She may freak out and shriek out, 'Are you blind, asshole?' Reply, 'Yes' Now, without gauging her emotion, cuttingly add, 'And so is your grandma.'
In case something good eventually happens, (the probability of which would be as less as ethics in GTA) you can suddenly drop in the Titanic's classic line, 'I see You', one fine day and open her eyes too. (And stop giving me those cheap looks. I'm doing social-service here.)

Level IV- Tell tales. Things needed- few trustworthy friends and an armor, preferably shining. Wear the armor and roam around your crush with your friends when she is alone. And when she is suitably shocked by your unearthly appearance, she will yell, 'What the hell is that costume?' Your friends will now step in and act like you are just wearing the same clothes that you initially planned to give for laundry a month ago. Now, when she goes out of her wits and shouts, 'Why does it look like an armor to me then?', your friends will casually suggest, 'Perhaps, because, he is your knight-in-shining-armor'. Now it's time for you to act royal, which you've never been in your whole life, and live the tale. Note: If you lie anywhere below the Tropic of Cancer on the map, smoothly add, 'And you can call me... the Dark Knight.'

Level V- Play gay. Now this is an interesting one. You have to come out of the closet even if you don't have one and tell about it to your crush. It'll be highly awkward at first but will turn easy and comfortable gradually. And then, when the time is perfectly ripe like a yellow banana, go back inside your imaginary closet. Convince her with a straight-face that her presence has dramatically changed your mindset and you are Khushi-wala-gay now, but not the mushy-wala-gay. Heck, you may even become a celebrity by joining and publicizing Ramdev Baba's quest of 'curing' gays via Yoga. *Happy Ending* *Claps*

Level VI- Pick-up positively. When it comes to pick-up lines, I position myself at very high ranks just like Laden positions himself in the list of Nobel Peace Prize nominees; as the only pick-up line I know  immediately gets you a handshake, but unfortunately, can be used only once a year. Because it's 'Happy Birthday!' And a humble request to all the CS guys- stop using 'Hello World' as a pick-up line. That isn't the correct syntax. And EEE/ENI people, you can use this line- 'I thought the DC is the most electrifying thing until I met you.' Don't know about the rest, but if your crush is a Chemical Engineer, the ideal one is, 'Are you placed?' Because when she asks why, you can romantically reply, 'Coz you are one in a million.' Despite looking easy, this act is placed at the 6th position because just like the snake-reborn-to-take-revenge stories, it works out only in the movies.

Level VII- Be You*. This is the most difficult one. Seriously. Because try however you may, there is always the actor within you who forces you to pretend, to feign, to fake. But in the long run, being yourself ultimately helps you emerge victorious. Yeah you can wipe those tears now.

If you found the whole content to be directly opposite to the word 'useful', do remember, that I promised to help you make this day 'an unforgettable memory', nothing else. And that I guarantee. If you have any better and safer ideas, do drop them in the comment-box and take part in this noble and altruistic activity. And who knows, that might make some lonely writer somewhere lucky. So everyone reading this, wishing you an advanced Happy Solo-people-hiding Day and for all the girls, 'Happy Birthday!! :P :D :F :W'

*No this isn't a publicity article for any sort of an awesome conference, but if you've been lazy enough to not register still for something called TEDx, here goes the link, And yeah there's a shirt too. Yeah that black one, which doesn't look like a copied football team's jersey. Signing out. 


Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Bunking may cause Cancer*

Yeah, it's a statistically proven fact well documented by a very esteemed and responsible news channel, India News. (Keeping aside the fact that, it has also once reported, with accurate astronomical evidence, obviously, that 'Hell' is actually a planet between Mars and Jupiter; but come on, telescopes with dirty lenses are to blame.)

So that night, exactly at 23:41:05 hrs IST (GMT+5.5), I over-ambitiously set the alarm at 5:45 am, after searching that rarely-used app for about half-an-hour in the phone, switched off the lights and then flew and fell on the bed strewn with all the clothes I would wear the following month. It was then that a rascal knocked at my door and shrieked, "Night Mess!" An hour, a Rs.35-debt and a sandwich later, I was back in my room and wondered whether going to an incomprehensible class the following morning was worth getting into rare (and sometimes cool) psychological disorders triggered by sleep-deprivation.

I had always suspected that alarms were crafted with the art of black-magic to be used as a tool to torture the mankind by waking them up from their sweet slumber at the oddest times possible. Yeah, my phone was damn punctual in its sadism and 'alarmed' me sarcastically.

Half-an-hour (or was it an hour-and-a-half?) later...

Here I was, after one month of educational hibernation, stepping into the lecture theater. I don't know what was so brutal in the way the professor glared at me, that he started resembling a 'Trespassers will be prosecuted' board. I ignored the sudden creepy silence, the burning stare of the students and wondered what had gone wrong and checked if I had my pants on. Or perhaps, it was just due to me being bag-less and interrupting the class, by being 15 minutes late. I quickly walked to the farthest corner possible and dissolved in the seat with utmost silence.

There were so many symbols and alphabets on the board that if Dan Brown would see it, he would get enough material to write 7 different sequels to The Da Vinci Code. But no! The professor was actually teaching Thermodynamics, which had now elevated to such a high level that if a NASA scientist would plan on landing a rover on its face, he would first systematically calculate all the transitions, trajectories, tangents and finally, backed by sufficient scientific proof, conclude- "Abey, lite ley"

After sometime (which was 10 seconds), I checked if I had dozed off, but the AC had taken care of my lack of sleep, by being OFF and letting the sweat pour from every pore. No, the professor wasn't tired at all and felt reluctant on leaving before he completed the 50 precious minutes of his lecture.

Anyways, I drifted back into my daydreams, and imagined an octopus riding a dragon, flying across the theater, gobbling up all the nerds and spitting spectacles everywhere and waving an eight-handed 'Hi' to me. And I pretty much deserved this friendly gesture as I had always been a die-hard fan of Oswald.

(And this vision just got my blog a U/A certificate from Pogo for disturbingly portraying its cartoon in a surrealistic imagery.)

But, I have to admit that, however hard you may try to ignore, the topics being taught in the class always leave an impression on your imagination. Like that time, when the prof was teaching about "French Revolution", and I was imagining a conversation between The Eiffel Tower and The Leaning Tower of Pisa (after contemplating Paris Hilton, of course)

E.T. - "Hey, L.ToP, I am straight. How about you?"
L.ToP- *hell-bent on not responding*
E.T.-  "coz I heard you have some strange inclinations!"

Or when the Maths prof was trying to prove the controversial equation- '1 2 ka 4, 4 2 ka 1' (strategically incorporated in the Anil Kapoor song, 'My name is Lakhan') by the method of Contradiction, and then adjusting his tie screamed- "This is gonna be Legen...wait for it...dre's equation!" Or was it just another day-dream? You will never know.

And have you met one of those students infected by this miserable disease of perpetually making notes of what all the teacher does? They don't even bother looking at the teacher, as their heads are eternally pinned to the notes. Take this excerpt from the notes of one of my nerdy friends, for example-                                                                                                                                

"...so I was stressing the importance of Entropy which is a major issue in running a machine *coughs*  Because it lays the foundation of Second Law. Hey, wake him up man! *pauses* And these laws are to be followed for energy to be profitably transformed. Why is he still sleeping? Hey! Good Morning to you too! Get out. *sends me out of class*..."

Yeah, Profs love eye-contact! So better give them some.

Now let's get back to the Thermodynamics class. (That kept trying to keep up to its name by continuously frying my brains.) The digital clock now indicated that I had to keep my delicate mental-balance for a one hour long minute more. It almost felt like watching an atom-bomb ticking its countdown, only that this bomb would explode, spraying chocolate and Miami beaches in all directions. I closed my eyes as sweat trickled down my face and the theme 'Rise' from TDKR played in the background. And finally, the miracle happened. The clock struck independence and I came out feeling like the hero from the 'Shawshank Redemption' after he prison-breaks. There was confetti falling from the sky, people exchanged hugs and handshakes with moist eyes and trumpets merrily farted. At last, I was liberated....

Oh wait! What was this post about?

*This post was actually written in the last semester but has been posted now as I couldn't find sufficient time  to mock Quark owing to my excessive sleeping sickness. My apologies.

Thursday, 31 January 2013

On Air Again

"...and then Wilbur was all like, 'Dude, did you get the stuff? Let's get high bro' and then it all began. But bringing the ladies to serve was my idea. But I still don't understand why he was so shocked when I brought spanners, screw-drivers and wood to the place.." -Orville Wright in an interview.

So, after lying jobless at home for almost a month, I had a dramatic change of mind and returned back to BITS. And now I lie jobless here. It was Jet Konnect that helped me in reaching this holy abode of 40 inch LEDs and yeah, education, of course.

It was my FFE (fifth flight experience) and I'll recount some facts about this hyped mode of transport.
The most important part of a plane is the air-hostess. I say 'part' because they are definitely clones/droids/transformers and definitely can't be considered Homo sapiens. These are the reasons-
(a) Smile is their only expression. They will smile the hell out of you and keep on smiling even after you kill yourself of Paranoid Schizophrenia.
(b) Their accent is American; the American being the Terminator; which is due to their vocal-cords having been replaced by the Automated Voice Response System that you hear in the Customer Service phone calls.      
(c) There is a thin line between make-up and plastic surgery. And unfortunately they are playing Kabaddi across that thin line.

But despite all these reports from various conspiracy-theorists it has been proved that they are humans too. And below all those layers of cosmetics and plastic smiles lies a delicate heart; which wants you to buy that exorbitantly costly coffee worth Rs.60

At the beginning of the journey, you are explained the number of ways in which you might fail in completing the journey. They tell you what to do in case the plane lands on water, on a volcano, on Mars and all the other places in the universe except the airport where you initially planned to reach, before involuntarily registering into Space-Tourism. But none pays much attention for the obvious reason of not being Saif Ali Khan from 'Cocktail'. But it certainly hurt the sentiments of an old woman sitting beside me who at last growled, 'Kuchh toh shubh-shubh bol kalmuhi!'

And then starts playing low volume music with pianos, saxophones and violin, which seems classy and elite at first but after few minutes you feel like asking the hostess, 'Do you have Honey Singh? The non YoYo one?'

The window seat is amazing though. But only the first time. Because only once can you feel excited and elated on watching towns looking as tiny as your CGPA and the land looking like Abstract Modern Art, which doesn't make any sense unless you are thoroughly stoned. And in case of the clouds surrounding your window, these are the respective reactions-
1st time you watch a cloud: Oh! The divine froth materialized by the holy endeavors of His hands that made the flowing rivers, the rising waves and the growing seed. I bow to Thine supremacy. Alas! My eyes took so long to realize this magnanimous beauty of such celestial nature and heavenly intensity. Pardon me for such a brutal sin Lord. Amen.
2nd time you watch: Yeah, it's very lovely and pretty and white. And I am an agnostic actually. What are your views on the world mythologies?
3rd time: What's the time? I don't think this plane is even moving. Isn't this tasteless sandwich I just ate complementary?
4th: What's this irritating white thing I see all the time? Did some bird shit on my window?

Meanwhile the air inside the plane keeps on entering and leaving your ears without any rhyme or rhythm finally giving you a slight headache. Just like a CDC lecture basically. Simultaneously, the air-hostesses tempt you with various products, which you should profoundly avoid unless you want to land bankrupt. Because the rates are certainly sky-high. (Now I had to use that, didn't I?)

After some staring and boring moments, we finally land and are thanked by the crew for choosing their airlines, or in other terms, clicking at their name which was placed topmost in Yatra.com  for being the cheapest airlines in that route and are bid goodbye with the same tormenting smile.

But airports always make me nostalgic, as the large foreign population there reminds me of those childhood-days when I used to shriek 'Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ!' whenever I saw a hairy white man. Now I have turned a full-fledged Pastafarian and believe only in the Flying Spaghetti Monster, so it's no more a problem.

And so, I end narrating my experience with a noise-making flying-box that frequently roars above the campus teaching us a very valuable lesson of life- 'Brrrrrrrrrrshhhhhh......'



Monday, 14 January 2013

Aata Majhi Satakli

Yes. That's precisely what 'Epidural Hematoma' is called in Marathi.

In case you don't know what EDH means, it's what happens just inside your skull when it falls in love with a hard thing and then falls on it with the speed of light. And I am talking about it as a boy I knew had it, who two days later in half-forgetfulness discovered he was myself. Wait... *Brainfart*

So, it all began after... Well, I don't remember much of it, except the MedC, two other hospitals, strangers poking my veins, friends making guest-appearances, ambulances and making sense of the annoying urine-bag that stalked me everywhere. But the one thing I surely know is, how and why I fell is still a matter of medical mystery. So let's silently blame the cause of my fall on alien abduction and experimentation.

Reportedly, the three weirdest things that I did in the inactivity of my consciousness were:
(a) Trying to talk some sense into a Punjabi friend. That too in Telugu.
(b) Banging my injured head against the CT Scan machine thinking that the doctors were sealing me off.
(c) Explaining a fellow neurological patient that we don't call a barmaid 'Chemical Engineer' in BITS Goa
But then, it all felt justified after I came to know that I had once replied 'Ammeter Rheostat' on being asked 'How are you feeling?' by a doctor.

But the 'Blunder of the Year' award should certainly go to the SMRC hospital which planned on conducting an unnecessary neurological surgery on my brain. And the thing with an unnecessary neurological surgery is, it's even worse than passive smoking. Because both are harmful to health, but passive smoking at least has the decency of being FREE.

But in all these odds, I must admit, it was the all-comforting company of my friends in the Goa Medical College that kept me going, with their highly encouraging comments like, 'You look very smart in your CT Scan' and 'You are all right. See that patient. Is that brown thing his brain?'

Though the highlight was, acknowledging me regarding the free services provided by the GMC including the glucose and saline drips, in these words, 'Abey ek aur bottle ghusane bol. Free ka hai!' And obviously my hungry wrists obliged.

Yes, the days were very strange as was my face, with hair so irritatingly fuzzy that even my comb went- 'lolwut' So, facially I looked worse than Joker from TDK and physically I was worse than Bruce Wayne from TDKR. But of course, the Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham moment happened when my parents entered the scene and hugged me, as opposed to my expectations, in which I imagined them to break in 'Holy Smokes! Our son is special now!' slow-motion scene.

Then I was shifted to the MedC, which is the best place that one can get in BITS because the AC actually works there and your routine is something like- Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Shit. Constipation? Sleep again then.
Moving on to the menu. It too is quite exotic, with fascinating options like- Warm Khichdi, Cold Khichdi, Warm Khichdi being cooled and Die hungry.

On the flip side, you have nurses attending you the whole day. Let's leave aside the fact though, that the most killer pick-up line you can manage is only the- 'No mam. I didn't vomit today *innocent smile* ' But then you are supposed to be 'patient', aren't you? (Though I sincerely regret not using the line, 'I fell for you', anytime.)

But speeches are where mothers are. And thus, I became a victim of the vast maternal oratory in which every sentence ended with- '... and that's why you fell down' Well, she accused events ranging from the Portuguese influence on Goan culture to my low CGPA for my fall and I being left with no options of debate or discussion, continued with my silent slumber.

The doctor then wrote me off for a month of hibernation at home, with a hearty request for a haircut, with belief in the saying that one should have a good wrapping at least, if the gift is bad. And thus, I now rest at home with two hours of computer-time a day, officially bunking classes. Now, when I come to think of all of it philosophically, I feel that it's just a nature's mysterious way of saving me from the tortures of ERP, this semester.

The whole last week came with a moral for me- that you should always have good number of calories in diet and good friends by your side, because they will be the ones saving you, when you fall. And yes my friends did save me. And so did Dr Raghu sir, my warden sirs and my dear hostel-assistant sir.

An ending advice- Don't forget to take care of that huge chunk of meat in your head because, believe me, it can ache in a hundred different ways and subtly show who's the boss, if it wants to.

Signing out!