Ever get the feeling that fate is playing with you? That is is tempting you with a... i don't know... dark temptation, lets say. (If you don't know what that is, no games fate can play can be as cruel as your life!) And just when you think you are about to bite into that delicious, irresistible, incomparable combination of rich chocolate and ice cream, fate snatches the plate away. All you are left with is thin air and a reminder of the smell.

The first time, you feel like kicking fate on the backside. The front side. And every other side that that multi-dimensional polygonal concept has. After several iterations, slowly, you learn. To live. To hope. Perhaps to even enjoy the taste of thin air. You see that all your kicking and screaming has no effect on fate whatsoever. And so you stop. Take things as they come. Hope, that fate will get bored of the games when it sees that it is not getting to you any longer.

Nursery rhymes making a sudden re-entry into my life, so i end this post with one.

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.


*ing: My guide as OMH, me as the dawg, my defense as the bone and my internal examiner as the contents of the cupboard.

Three pairs of specs, too good to be true!
One crushed in a Basky match,
And then there were two.

Two pairs of specs, oh what fun!
A frame split for no reason,
And then there was one.

One pair of specs, now that's a laugh!
A temple broke while wrestling
And then there was half.

Half a pair of specs, ever got that done?
Soon joined the other half,
And then there were none!

(Managed to salvage two complete pairs of specs out of the wreckage. A big thanks to my caretaker mom and my anna's anna for helping me through my blindness)

Door se dekha to chand dikh raha tha
Door se hi nihara aur nikal gaya
Paas jaane ki tammana thi na aarzoo
Jab bhi paas gaya hoon, bas daag hi dikhe hain

What happened to me???

(A fraud post, in keeping with my current way of life)

There are so few people in the world who know what they want to do, it is a pity/waste/crime to keep them from doing it. For whatever reasons.

What's eating Vinaya N?

Apart from a report that a snail would say is going at snail's pace and segmentation faults that drop in unannounced, bug you the whole day and then disappear without giving you the satisfaction of having driven them away, it is this. Is it right to do unto others what they do to you? On one extreme, you can sink down to the level of the lowest human you meet, letting him get what he gives. And on the other, you can decide to take the high road, letting people take advantage of you in the process.
The answer, as usual, lies somewhere in between. In defining limits. A lower bound below which thou shalt not sink and an upper bound beyond which though shalt not be nice (My language affected by too much association with the people of a certain room in the department and re-watching I Dream Of Jeannie). And while the theory seems sound enough, the devil is in the (implementation) details!

No, I am not brave.
Bravery is doing something despite your fears.
I have no fears to overcome.

No, I am not a monk.
A monk gives up all desires for something higher.
I have no desires to renounce.

No, I am not ruled by emotions.
I do not get carried away by joy or drown in sorrow.
A smile and a frown are all that I need.

Yes, I am the undefeated King.
Not because I have won all my battles
But because I haven't fought any.


(The mind moves in mysterious ways on a Sunday afternoon)

Some things in life are only possible in a college hostel.

Spending hours sitting on a structure suspended between the second floor and the terrace of the department, gazing at the night sky, discussing life, the universe and everything...

Deciding on a whim to go to the faculty building roof at 12 in the night (inspired by five point someone?), half expecting to find people drinking vodka. Climbing 6 floors, making our way through dark corridors (feeling very much a part of a detective novel) looking for the way to the roof. Only to find that though the roof is very much there, the only way to get on it is to climb down a rickety ladder.

Four people. Three guitars. Tuned to three different pitches. One song (Uthe sab ke kadam...). Girls Hotel terrace. Again past midnight. It must have been cacophony, but to us it was pure music!

Past 1 A.M. Basketball court. A bunch of super enthusiastic classmates, most of whom had never touched a basketball before. And one of the most enjoyable games of basketball ever, despite me being blinded halfway because of broken backup specs. Surprisingly, I have one more pair to spare. When did I become one of those people who have a second backup for everything? Noooooooo I didn't, this just happened to happen.

M Tech second year students ready to play anytime I whip out a sponge ball (a very cute birthday gift with the original yahoo smiley drawn on it). 20 somethings who are soon going to take up responsible jobs actually making faces at each other, the same faces that tiny tots 20 years their juniors make in play school. Going from lab to lab, asking people to narrate their love stories or lack of them. Water fighting in someone else's lab, wetting some innocent non bystander's keyboard in the process and making a sworn enemy out of him until he gets a chance to wet some other innocent non bystander's keyboard. Hiding each others keys, purses, mobiles...

Damn! I am going to miss it all. Terribly :(

Been a while since I got back from the ski trip. An amazing week filled with trains, rocks, snowfall, snow, skis and fireplaces. Snowfall is breathtakingly beautiful, snow simply amazing! Rock climbing is a little scarier than I thought but as much fun. Skiing is a lot more hard work than I'd ever imagined! But once you learn enough to be able to zoom down the slope fast enough to get the feel of a free fall, there are few things better. Presenting some random snapshots of the week.

Whether they were coming back from lunch, dinner, skiing or a short 5 minute stroll in the sun, the moment anyone entered the room they made a beeline for the fireplace. A small stove kind of a thing that ran on gas, it was a life saver! Frozen body parts, frozen gloves, wet socks, damp shoes, there was nothing it couldn't set right. I'm sure none of us have looked at God with as much devotion and hope! And even incidents like someone's shoe catching fire could do nothing to lessen it. I dried and re-dried Anjali's gloves so much that they shrank a couple of sizes at least. Varun and I had planned on giving one glove each to our respective kids so that if they ever meet at Kumbh Mela... But Anjali liked the shrunk version so much, she took them away :(

It amazing how one snowfall can turn a barren mountainside into a thriving market! Suddenly there were shops, snow mobiles, snow carts, yaks and scores of instructors. What was more surprising was the number of tourists that suddenly sprang up to meet the supply. Oh how I envy people who can turn up in Manali on a Thursday, on barely a day's notice! Took a short yak ride up the mountain, my yak being uncharacteristically reluctant to climb. I wonder why. Also slid down the mountain sitting inside a truck's tube. Reminded me how much fun simple things can be. Also discovered that the inside portion of a truck's tube is not as spacious as one would like it to be.

Chandigarh. Never seen a city so obsessed with cleanliness. Even the railway station is clean. The lady in charge of the waiting room actually drove us and our baggage out so that the room could be cleaned. Waiting rooms are meant to be cleaned. That people use it for waiting is only incidental, a nuisance at best. The platform cleaner was no better. Neither we nor our baggage came up to his standards of cleanliness and so we all got doused with water. He would have scrubbed us too if only we'd let him! Only when I landed at Lucknow station and was welcomed by a cow and the accompanying smells did those little inconveniences seem worth it.

To the kind soul who had wandered this far,
This post consists solely of the ramblings of someone who has not written in some time and will not be able to for some more. So if you are looking for coherence, meaning or anything remotely interesting, please look elsewhere.

Wait. Wait... I changed my mind. Feeling too lazy to ramble so just the highlights.

a) The weather is just glorious!
b) My guide took us out to lunch yesterday. Amazing food!
c) I finally rode a motorcycle here!! Refer to a) for the weather conditions. A couple of rounds of the academic area with a friend sitting behind and I didn't fall or stop! The only blemish on my record was that I followed a cycle-rickshaw wala for some time, too scared to overtake. A high speed ride as the pillion rider and I was wishing I could break my legs just to get a bike inside! Okay I rambled, but this is special!
d) I leave today for a week long skiing trip to Manali! Finally!! My first look at snow... Reminds me of a couple of twenty somethings who were seeing the sea for the first time. Their independent first reactions were - "The water is so salty"! I hope I have something better to say!

And 12 days later, I'm back! How much disciple does that imply? Some, but nowhere near enough. And I've come up with an explanation for its absence. Even after taking into account the prescribed dosage of movies/books/bulla, there are two kinds of people in this world - those who count every minute and those who don't. And I am the queen of the latter! I never say no to anything - be it being the 13th girl in a basketball game (which is 5 a side game), or being the one to go early and stand in the queue in a theater, or watching a movie for a second time within the span of a month. You name it, I'm your girl! The thing is, I don't feel I am wasting time, I feel I should feel I am wasting time. I've been pondering about the possibility of attaching artificial value to my time. 'Cause people will value your time only if you do. So the next time you want someone to go to the flower show with you, I'm going to be too busy! Even though I may have nothing better to do and might be dying to go there myself.

An observation on the counting class (Ha! That's one name I remember from my Computational Complexity class!). They do use some of the minutes they count, but in general they seem satisfied with the count of minutes they have not spent doing something light/enjoyable/pointless, and don't bother too much about what they actually spend that saved time on.

The frequency of posts on my blog is directly proportional to the discipline in my life. If I am in one of my eat-watch movie-sleep cycles, you are unlikely to be treated to a peak into my life. 'Cos believe it or not, it takes time on my hands and space in my head to come up with this rubbish. Whereas if I am in my eat-work-watch movie-play-sleep cycle, I am more likely to be hit by an idea or an incident. And that is when this blog comes to life.
This post? Is an indication of an attempted transition from the former cycle to the latter. Hoping to be back here sometime soon!

Dame Falls-A-Lot. Yeah, sounds nice, suite me to a tee, think I am going to make it my name. (Minus the dashes, in case you were wondering). And before you accuse me of having delusions of grandeur, let me state that if Phoebe (Buffey, of course) can be Princess Consuela Bananahammock, I can certainly be a Dame. And before you accuse me of being addicted to a T.V. series, I admit I am. I only stopped watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S when I could mouth the dialogues with the characters. I am getting addicted to another series, but that is material for another post.
Coming back to the topic. These past months, I've been falling. A lot. Well, no, that's not entirely true. I've been having weird, embarrassing accidents and getting stitched up a lot. (But Dame Gets-Stitched-A-Lot is not as cool, with or without the dashes). A stitched upper lip, a stiff index finger that I can't bend a month after the stitches came off, a grazed palm that cannot be bandaged, that forces me offer two fingers as a handshake, a sprained shoulder that can "act up" whether I am playing badminton or tug of war or sleeping... life's been a bed of rose bushes minus the roses. With a birthday coming up and my loving friends on a mass recruitment drive to find people to "pick me and kick me", the bushes are likely to be devoid of roses, atleast in the foreseeable future.

There is something terribly wrong with a country where a civil graduate has to celebrate getting a job in a software company.

Life generally consists (or is supposed to consist) of activities that add up to your future. You study for that exam, work for that pay packet, practice for that match, pass up the second helping of cake in the hope of getting into that dress. Anything done for the present in considered an indulgence. Be it that movie or book or game or chocolate. But sometimes there comes a moment that makes your present so profound that it becomes a part of you and thus of your future.
I watched Nayakan today. I have no words to describe the experience except to say it was one such moment.

"If your girlfriend says she wants to talk to you at 5 in the morning and you don't have an alarm clock, you will of course stay up all night. That is the kind of passion you should have for sports", said Kapil Dev when he inaugurated the 41st Inter-IIT sports meet at Roorkee. Do I have that kind of passion? Err... well... no, or I would not still be struggling with my tosses and smashes. The lack of passion however did not stand in the way of a thoroughly enjoyable week spent at IIT Roorkee. There were so many firsts, I don't know where to begin.

It was the first time I was living with a gang of girls all younger to me. I was promptly christened "Super Amma" and was expected to take care of the lot. An expectation which I cruelly crushed on the very first day by losing the house keys. Singing, dancing (not me, of course), breaking the 10 o'clock "curfew", climbing over closed gates and running away from the pursuing watchman, imposing atrocious crushes on one another - we did it all!

It was the first time I had hot chocolate and it was love at first sip! We (I should not take all the credit) managed to finish their hot chocolate supply within two days of our arrival and had to spend the rest of our days licking our lips in memory.

It was the first time I saw hooting as it should not be. Dirty, personal and irrelevant, I'm sure it equally disturbed players of both sides. At times, it even seemed to have a life of its own, independent of the match. There was good hooting too, my favourite being
"Bombay/Delhi/... tum sangarsh karo
Hum tumhare saath hain
Tum hamare bete ho
Hum tumhare baap hain!"

which we adapted for girls matches as

"Bombay/Delhi/... tum sangarsh karo
Hum tumhare saath hain
Tum hamari bahuen ho
Hum tumhari saas hain!"

It was the first time I had 6 meals a day! Almost everyday. Three in the mess and three in the canteen. And at least half of them involved paneer/cheese. It's a wonder I didn't get to a stage where I could form the badminton doubles team all by myself!

Most importantly, it was the first time I participated in a tournament. Saw the pressure, the tension. Got nervous in my first tough match. Realized in the second that nervousness can be controlled. Played decently and we won the gold (!!), all thanks to a brilliant captain, a dedicated coach, and the super-patient and enthusiastic folks back home at Persistent who got me started.

All said and done, there is no place like Inter-IIT to motivate you. It shows you how far you have to go and makes you wish you were there yesterday!

I love train journeys. Or rather, I love to say I love train journeys. The former was true in times when train journeys were few and far in between. They would be family affairs, with at least 4 berths to our name. One could sleep anytime, sit by the window anytime, stand at the train door anytime... Now, life consists of bi-annual train journeys undertaken alone, unless luggage can be counted as a companion. One can either sit at the window all the time or sleep all the time. And not even think about standing at the door. People without exception behave as if girls traveling alone are more likely to be swept off by the wind. And the pantry food manages the impossible - makes me wish I was eating in the mess! I do not step into a train without a book. But more often than not, the book turns out to be one sent to stress-test my patience. I can almost hear Him laughing at the cheap shot. Unable to read, unable to not read, I end up spending most of the journey sleeping.

Despite all this, I still get excited at the prospect of a journey. Those five minutes spent gazing out the window, cool wind in your hair. The day spent among strangers you've never seen before and will never see again. Waking up suddenly, sure that you have overslept, finding that its just ten minutes since you last did the exact same thing, happily going back to sleep. All those crazy things you think about when you are alone.

This time, the TC gave me something to think about. Its night. I am in deep sleep, minding my own business when a hand shakes me awake roughly. A voice follows.

"Bhaisaab, ticket dikhana."

!!!

It was not as grand as last time, although it was more fun for me because I was a part of it. The recently concluded IIT Kanpur sports meet - diluted in the hope of avoiding certain unpleasantness also ended up avoiding the festive atmosphere. Half the fun in such events is seeing your hostel and roads filled with strangers from another world - they somehow make it a different place. Less teams, less competition and hence less satisfaction, especially in the games I played. I watched the guys fight it out in the same games and man! The difference in level!! I was not sure it was the same game! A rather uncharitable idea occurred - with certain exceptions, beating the best girl player in a sport can be an entry level criteria for the boys team.
A couple of observations when I was watching the guys play. These observations have been made as a complete outsider, for, the level at which the games were played, I am an outsider.

Anger. Frustration. Despair. Elation, no not exactly, more like triumph. The feeling you get after you crush your opponent. Revenge. All so much a part of the game. And very likely to affect it. I wonder if a calm, controlled player would be more effective than one who gets carried away. Sometimes, you need the anger to propel you.

Got to see how extremely important fitness is. You might be the best player there can be, but it can all so easily come to nothing if you can't last for the entire game. It is very painful to watch people huffing and puffing, or playing with a sprained shoulder or ankle. They can't possibly enjoy it. And if you can't enjoy the game, it reduce to senseless physical torture. Games look so beautiful when the effort is not visible.

This from a person who reaches the end of her stamina after 5 minutes of knocking and sprains her shoulder every two days. Now that I've seen how it looks, I'll do all the running the coach asks me to.

If it wasn't for the policeman, every one of us would be a thief!

No. No one great said it. Just me. This is the conclusion I have come to after watching myself for the past couple of weeks. Me, not long ago considered to have machine like sincerity, having to fight with myself for five minutes of work. Just because there is no one to answer to. I never realized I had to be driven!

I look around and see I am not alone. And I wonder, if everyone wants to be a thief, why do we have policemen at all? Why don't we have a "all you steal is yours" kind of society? A friend told me that I leave a lot of unanswered questions on my blog. I agree. Only, she thought I was too lazy to think about the answers while I maintain that I am too dumb. This one too is beyond me. The only explanation I can think of is that some super intelligent fore-father of mine figured out that we'd get wherever we are going sooner if we didn't have to keep checking our backs.

London! The land of my dreams! Amazing how the thing you yearn most for can be staring right at you and yet you don't see it. I never imagined there'd actually be such a place. Paradise! Though I generally turn up my nose at settling abroad, London is something else. It'd be very difficult to pass up such a chance. Be it a call center job or a waitress at an Indian Dhaba - it'd be very difficult to pass up, as long as its there. If you are up there and listening, please please let me be a Londonwasi in all my future incarnations.

I hear it is quite respectable there to bathe just once a week.


P.S. I realize this is a recurring topic, but it is a recurring problem.

Another trip. This time to a jungle (redefined to mean a few bushes on a mountain) and a waterfall. Some thoughts follow.

When will the Kumbh Mela be held?

Why do Indians consider the cow to be sacred?

What is the difference between different newspapers like The Hindu, Hindustan Times ... Do they have political leanings?

All questions asked by a French exchange student traveling with us.

Kumbh mela? Yes, I remember reading about it in A Suitable Boy. Its supposed to be held near Sangam, I think. The mela where thousands of babies are lost and hundreds of movies are made. No, no idea when or where or why.

Cow? Sacred? Well, yes. But I mean, what nonsense! We don't believe in all that. We are the new generation. We throw all old beliefs out the window, no questions asked.

The Hindu, well, I think it is a little boring. The Times of India is too populist. Of course newspapers have leanings. No paper is impartial. What are the leanings of these newspapers? Well.. umm... err... I don't really know.

No Past. No present. Will we have a future?