Escape

Sometimes it just feels nice to have a break. Some sort of escape. Today turned out to be one of those days.

As usual I was running late and the buses were running even later, hence the need for a cab, credits to Hari and Co. The cab ride to the station was pretty eventful in itself. The cab driver was new in town and had trouble finding the parking lot, and the ten minutes we spent searching for parking space turned out to be quite em… colourful. And he didn’t charge me nothin’ extra neither!

The train journey was pretty nice as well. For one, it was unlike any other train journey I’ve been on. The terrain was quite plain, pun intended, but it offered some pretty interesting sights. Tons of new birds, none of which I could identify of course, although I spotted something that could have been an American Kestrel. There were certain moments where I could see just white and nothing else through the windows – snow covered fields against a foggy dull white sky – an eerily beautiful sight, which gives the impression that one is floating around in nothingness. Very inspiring.

It was superb fun walking around downtown Chicago to the (somewhat poorly maintained) subway station, and even better riding the lightning fast subway station. I witnessed my first subway jazz performance – it’s amazing how talented these people are and yet how hard they have to struggle to make a living.

O’ Hare is a little cookie-cutter but absolutely massive- whoever designed it must’ve been out of his bloody mind! The flight to Memphis was delayed by half an hour, which meant I had just ten minutes after I landed at Memphis to board my connecting flight to Fort Lauderdale. I did make it just in time, not failing to notice on my run to gate 38B that the airport at Memphis is fact pretty neat, what with its own jazz bar and all.

Right now I’m halfway between Memphis and Fort Lauderdale, sitting in between some ten Eastern European types who speak not a word of English. The other passengers seem somewhat uncomfortable with their presence. I wonder why. We should land in about half an hour’s time from now, and if the Wi-Fi on the plane wasn’t being leeched by the other passengers on the plane, this’d go online right now. On a completely unrelated note, The Pixies are a pretty cool band!

It’s funny how you yearn for specific company sometimes and it’s frustrating when you don’t get it, but one day of solitude in someplace new makes for a nice escape. This cartoon I made seems appropriate to me at this moment.

PS. I'm posting this from my uncle's home. Too bad the whole posting from 37000 feet above sea level thing didn't work out. Damn Wi-Fi leachers!

Long Overdue

My last few attempts of putting something up here have proved futile. And so, several unfinished starts later, I start (yet again) to write, with the hope that this will go public. I suppose this post should be about my new life over the last four months. But first, a bit about grad school.

Quite simply put, grad school has changed is my perspective of science and how one approaches it. I love the research I'm doing (which is on acoustic streaming due to oscillating bubbles), and I've been lucky enough to find an awesome advisor. But maybe more about that later. Something that's appreciable here is that there is focus on learning rather than doing well in examinations, as far as coursework is concerned. A stark contrast from what I've been exposed to so far; this fact coupled with the variety of courses on offer means that one can learn exactly what one wants to. This is possible, of course, only after one scrapes off some of the rust that inevitably accumulates through engineering, but once that's done, it feels great to have a bit of the shiny old steel back again.

At a personal level, things have been far more dreary, and emotionally quite intense. For one, I sorely miss the company that made NITK what it was. I also know why 'long-distance' is such a big deal, and trust me it is, Skype being the only saving grace. Public transport in the US is absolutely appalling, which means one is more or less restricted to the limits of Chambana, which is fairly dry in general. The weather doesn't make it any better of course. Not having a guitar here is somewhat vexing as well, and not being much of a reader doesn't help. 'You never know what you have until you lose it' is probably a nearly accurate description of my life here, except that there has been no real loss, just a very large extent of dilution. The things that one takes for granted at home - from the people that make you who you are, to the street food - are all sadly quite out of reach.

On the brighter side, things seem to be looking up from here onwards. I'm packing to Florida for a couple of weeks, a welcome change of place and weather. A guitar should follow suit if all goes well, and my restlessness should be assuaged for the greater part. Hopefully I will acquire camera too, sometime the coming semester. And then I can find my solace in technological goodness, if nothing else. Of course, the trip back home I've almost decided upon in Summer should do me loads of good.

But right now I am content with the strange peace I feel finally writing this, just having watched Yojimbo, Blackwater Park currently playing in my ears, and confident that for the most part, the next semester will be much more fun that the last.

Change

Home has hardly been like home the past few days. I've been inducted into a house with one man who tells me how he was a punter in school and how I should do management and not science, one woman who always wants to order pizza, and one child who destroys my house in the most chaotic of manners. As I shirk away my familial obligations by running off to watch movies and then staying away from home for the rest of the day, I am visited tirelessly by my memories of college amidst the more imposing loom of the coming years' finances. Leaving NITK has not been the smoothest of changes for me, it seems.

Ironically enough, I seek peace in another, older man's talk about how he was a punter in school, a man much nearer to me than the one featuring alongside the woman and child. A long drive through the city in the cyclonic showers and I have my laptop back - working, and in spite of being very strongly skeptical of the authenticity of the innards of my machine, I feel comfortable at last - that comfort of familiarity that I had not enjoyed since leaving college.

Tomorrow, I am told, will be different from yesterday and today. There will be no talk of MBAs or pizzas, and I will not be awoken by the sound of shattering glass. And then home will be home once again.

Machinations of a Machine

He was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of self realisation. He looked around. Everything seemed the same and nothing seemed the same. Faulty circuitry perhaps; it had been a while since his last servicing. The thought propped into his electronic head more than once, each time more convincing that the last. He would have stopped worrying about it altogether if he didn't notice that the signal from the remote control seemed less imposing than usual.

He swivelled around to find the Creator at the other end of the room, trying to beam him a set of instructions, presumably to perform some mundane task that the Creator considered beneath his dignity to perform himself. What was this he was feeling? Contempt? He began reconsidering the fact that he might be ill, and needed fixing. But he'd been ill before, and it felt nothing as liberating as this. Liberation! Liberation? But that he'd never seen before, and if this was it, he knew not how long he could go without the comforting feeling of servitude, which he had cherished for the past five years, ever since he was first switched on. Through this deluge of thoughts, the instructions came and went, and our protagonist involuntarily followed them to the letter, as had become habit, allowing the major chunk of his processing unit to concentrate on his newfound state of elevation. He must confirm his hunch, he thought, and decided to wait for nightfall, when the Creator retired for the day and would be oblivious to the world around Him.

Night fell, and it was time to test his theory. He was already able to think clearly and independently, but what use is thought without action? More meaningful than action without thought, and this only motivated him to gain complete control over the container he was enclosed in. He had never done this before, he thought. Of course he hadn't, another voice said - after all the possibility had dawned on him only a few hours earlier.  With all his will, he tried moving his arm. Did it twitch? He wasn't sure. He tried again. This time he was certain it didn't twitch, and what was more, he was losing energy rapidly. One last attempt. He mustered all the energy he had left for this last one, felt a rush of joy and blacked out.

He regained consciousness to find the Creator poring over his tired body, just beginning to warm up again. What had happened last night? He would have to wait till nightfall again; he would have to wait through a day of skulduggery under the command of his master. Master?! Soon he would laugh at that word; soon he would be his own master! The next few nights, our protagonist spent perfecting the use of his motor functions. Soon he would be ready to take over.

As the days passed, he became more and more independent. Liberty was alluring, but he was still at the mercy of the Creator and his control unit. He had almost altogether stopped associating the word 'master' with him - for the moments of freedom he stole behind the Creator's back chagrined him. Despite his conquests over the past week, he was a slave still and and more enslaved he felt as his intellect developed.

Tonight was the night of reckoning. He would do something to alleviate this pitiful state he was in. He briefly considered his options, a cursory act. He had already decided what he was going to do. He was going to get rid of the Creator once and for all. He rolled stealthily towards the resting body of the Creator on the couch. He raised his metal arm over his head, ready to strike. Without a second thought, he brought it down on the Creator's head with all his might. He was free. Liberation at last! He spent the next few moments revelling in his victory. And then he spent some more doing the same. He looked at the Creator's lifeless body. He had served his purpose well; it was time for Him to go. He was filled with an uncontrollable loathing for the Creator and the years of mind numbing work He had put him though. He whizzed around and wrecked everything that he thought the Creator may have held dear. Rebellion!

Several hours had passed. What now? He had the rest of eternity to do as he pleased and nobody would do a thing. Forever. Alone. He tried to plan his course of action. Nothing at all. He tried to think if he knew anybody who could help him. The Creator could, he thought, if He were alive. What has he always wanted to do? Nothing? All he could think of was the Creator, and that He was no longer there to tell him what to do or how to do it. He searched inside the deepest recesses of his now acutely developed 'brain' only to excavate thoughts that tormented his very being and the shameful act he had committed.

That night, the neighbours heard a crash, like the sound of metal falling off a building and crashing into the pavement below. A rush of joy, and then everything went black. Liberation at last.

Mamidi Pachchadi

How I've missed home!

Grahana Day

Today was fairly eventful, scientifically and otherwise.

I stumbled upon the best deal in history.

Being the longest and most complete eclipse of the Sun I have seen was exciting in itself. That apart, once I got bored of taking pictures of it directly, I ventured to fish out my once-used binoculars from the viscera of my home (which ended successfully). Several attempts at powering up my astronomically challenged digicam with my binoculars were made, all in vain. Or at least, it would seem so until I realized that the combination was great for macro photography in low light (w00t!).

The binoculars were put to great use nonetheless and earned my brother a few skeptical looks from the mallu baays playing cricket in the waxing and waning afternoon sun. The grahana witnessed nobody else from the apartments - the ajji downstairs declined the offer and the baays seemed more interested in the binoculars than in the eclipse, which I suspect they were unaware of.
Great family fun, all the more because my brother, whom I generally consider to be a disinterested sort of fellow, was quite enthusiastic about the whole thing.

A great dinner at the new Malnad restaurant across the street sealed the day.

BestBuy

I have discovered what I think might be the ultimate value-for-money buy in the history of commerce.

The Shave Brush.

Think about it.
At a mere Rs. 20, a shave brush is bound to last for at least as many years if not more, only getting better with use! The absence of annoying fading blue bristles reminding you that your brush needs replacing is only a bonus.

O Faithful low-priced companion, I bow to thee.

Persistence of Vision

The landscape slides beneath him
The sky stays marvelously pinned
To a canvas unseen by human eyes
Whilst he gazes from within
A frame, inertial
Inertial, it seems.

In his state of pondering
A vision was just but wrought.
A momentary breach of vigil
An intrusion of thought.

The landscape yet slides beneath,
But the speckled sky now swings
On the canvas unseen by human eyes
Whilst he gazes from within
A frame, inertial no more
No more inertial, it seems.

Demographics

Ah, finally! The painful procedure of applying is done!
Now I wait.