Graduation...

Finally, it's over. We had our convocation today, and I am now officially Prashanth Sriram, B.Tech, M.Tech, IIT Madras.

Strangely, it didn't feel one bit as though I were going through a momentous, once-in-a-lifetime occasion. I've had unforgettable moments in my life, and even written poetry about them. Well this wasn't one of them. I'm not entirely sure why, but I attach absolutely no importance to the fact that I've graduated. I was making jokes that this, being the 42nd convocation, is the answer to our lives, the universe and everything. I stared at my neighbour's hair, wondering why it looked diferent, until she blushed and said that she'd had a straightening perm. Well, you get the overall picture.

Maybe its because I know that I've gone from being an outstanding student to merely above average. I mean, I haven't done much academically in five years of life at IIT Madras to be proud of. Well... not much outside of academics for that matter! Still, I haven't really put up any performances to be majorly ashamed of either. I think the mediocrity of my existence is killing me slowly... perhaps a new atmosphere is exactly what the doctor ordered. If I'm lucky and find true happiness there, I just might extricate myself from this unshakeable sense of sheer boredom. I need to rekindle my passion for work, and perhaps therein lies my salvation.

Wonder if there are other people out there in the world who feel this way.

Anyway, after the function was over, I realized I had no desire to stop for celebration or goodbyes or gossip. I was the first one to hand in my robes. Fortunately, on the way back, I ran into some friends whom I was genuinely glad to see, so I did celebrate / gossip / say goodbyes after all!

Now comes the strange part. On the way back home, I stopped at the Shiva temple inside the campus to say a prayer of thanks. Well, I'm not actually a believer, and I rarely pray for anything, believing instead that if I want anything I should be capable of getting it by myself or I don't deserve it. No, the thing is that I sometimes go inside temples to say my thanks, for I don't know whom else to address my thanks. And the funny thing is that on a day as important as the convocation, there were very few people in the temple, and not one of them looked like a newly graduated student. I wasn't so early that nobody had had the time to reach the temple; I wasn't so late that everybody had left; I fully expected the temple to be teeming with students and their families. The only explanation I can think of is that people conveniently forget their Gods at times when They are not needed. I mean, people say prayers of request, instead of prayers of thanks. Which sounds extremely selfish and against my expectations of Theists. Perhaps the Gods, if any, would look more kindly upon me than these so-called believers.

Come to think of it, maybe they actually do!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Intuition?

I'm still not sure whether there is such a thing as destiny, or there isn't; I'm still not sure whether there is such a thing as luck, or there isn't. So I'm going to briefly put down my academic life history here, and let you be the judge.

Every once in a while, one comes to a crossroad in one's life, when one must make choices. Choices are made on the basis of conviction, or advice. Well, for most people anyway. For me, everything seems to happen just by intuition.

I remember choosing Computer Science as my group in high school simply because I thought computers were cool. It turned out that I'm a natural at programming.

I remember joining coaching classes for IIT-JEE because I was told that the IITs are the best place for engineering studies in India. I made it in. I was told to choose the Dual Degree program in Mechanical Engineering because it was the "highest" program available for my rank. I didn't have a better suggestion so I went ahead and took it.

I remember choosing Industrial Engineering as my minor stream more out of whim than calculation. Looking back, I will surely say that the IE subjects were by far my favourite in IIT Madras.

I remember changing my M.Tech specialization to Manufacturing from Design because I found it hard to "connect" with my major, and I figured that if I connected it to my minor, I could do it indirectly! Another brilliant choice. I landed a project sponsored by GM for my thesis and did well.

I remember applying only to top B-schools for my Ph.D., out of a wish to study Operations Management. I added PSU's engineering school to the list as an after-thought, and I still don't know why I did it. It so happened that PSU was the only University to offer me an admit.

So that is the convoluted path that I have travelled to end up where I am. As strange as it may seem, in retrospect I think that I've ended up choosing one of the best paths among those available to me. I'm not entirely sure of my reasons for making any of the decisions; they happened more from intuition than anything else.

What is it that has made this happen? Do I have a date with some destiny, and my life is steering me towards it by sending some subconscious signals to my brain? Was it pure luck that I've done things right? Am I a genius who can do reasonably well at anything he touches, and my decisions didn't matter after all? Or am I actually mistaken, and there is some better path that I could have chosen?

The truth is probably a combination of more than one of the above. I wish I could peep into parallel universes to see what would have happened if I'd done things differently. But for the moment, I am content to rely on my gift - intuition? luck? destiny? whichever one it is. In any case, life seems to have decided to take my hand and lead me on. And the touch is comforting.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. I know I bored some of you with all these specifics, but I'm not looking to win a popularity contest here.

Spiritual but not Religious

I've noticed that a lot of people seem to use the words Spirituality, Religion and God as though you can't have one without the others. With regard to Spirituality, I put it down mostly to ignorance, for the western view of Spirituality seems inextricably linked to miracles and the Indian view is inseparable from the concept of God. Both views are wrong, and apart from the select clique who are actually experienced in the area, it is the Indian youth of today who is most favourably placed to understand the real meaning of Spirituality.

But first, let me distinguish between the concepts of Religion and God. Roughly speaking, Religion refers to one of the established doctrines describing the form and attitude of God, such as Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, etc. A religious person visits the places of worship of his God(s), prays regularly, and believes in the ideas contained in the holy book of his faith. We can extend this, perhaps, to a person who does not believe rigidly in one of these doctrines, but nonetheless believes that God exists, and answers the prayers of those devoted to him.

There are, however, a lot of people who believe that God exists, but are not in the habit of praying and don't fully believe that God takes the trouble to help out humans in distress, devotees or not. Let's call these people Theistic but not Religious. That leaves the Agnosts, who are not sure whether God exists or not, and the Atheists, who believe that there is no such thing as God.

Unrelated to one's theistic beliefs are one's spiritual beliefs. Generally speaking, a spiritual person is one who has no need for material things. A spiritual person is the type who derives satisfaction from lighting a lamp; peace from watching the clouds; joy from a child's laughter; and solace from within. I guess it is not easy to define spirituality as such, but I just want to point out that it is a separate concept from religion and God.

The link between Spirituality and Miracles does exist though. Of particular interest are the "Spiritual Theorists", who believe that there is a certain energy or vibration associated with every living being, and by manipulating or channeling this energy in the correct manner, one can achieve a lot that conventional science can only call Miracles.

Obviously, there is no scientific evidence for the existence of any such energy. History is scattered with examples of how patients pronounced as beyond help managed to recover after treatment through unconventional techniques such as Reiki or Pranic Healing, but there is still no incontrovertible evidence to prove that it was such healing techniques that did perform the healing. However, it is technically impossible to prove it even if they did, since it is widely known that the application of such techniques does not actually perform healing by itself, but merely strengthens the body's natural healing abilities, allowing it to rally itself back to normalcy.

An interesting by-product of this is the existence of an Aura, or a measurable field of this life-driving energy, about every living thing. For a while there was a ruckus created by the development of a machine called the Kirlian camera, that uses electrical discharges to take an outworldish snapshot of an object. The Kirlian camera pictures showed "auras" around living things alone, and the colour and size of the aura changed depending upon various conditions. This seemed to back up the Spiritual Theorists, as the aura of a person is supposed to change with one's health and mood, but the Scientists squashed it by showing that the images formed by the Kirlian camera were dependent upon the impurities present in the air, especially and including the volatile oils and compounds that rise from the skin of every living thing on the planet, and the variation in their strength and composition as a result of bodily responses to moods, ill health etc. are bound to get recorded by the Kirlian camera.

That, of course, still did not disprove anything. And Spiritual Theorists often go further and make claims regarding the nature of the soul, the possibility of placing curses, the ability of clairvoyance, etc. What is intriguing about this is the way in which everything is developed scientifically from certain unproved "First Principles", lending them more credibility than your local Samiyar or deeply religious Grandmother. Best of all, there is no need to bring in a God into any of these things.

As for me, I was born Agnostic, and I pooh-poohed all references to anything connected to spirituality for a long time. Until some unfortunate experiences led me to doubt the very edifice of my existence, Science itself. So I linger in doubt, and for the moment am content to let life lead the way for me, for that has been the way things have always been for me: my thoughts guide my life indirectly through my actions, but nothing ever seems to govern my life, for it always finds it own way.

Well, perhaps there is a way to make a Science out of Spirituality. Or perhaps I was right in the first place, and I was only imagining the things that so terribly shook me to the core. In any case, I will leave you with a joke to lighten the mood.

A priest was having a difficult conversation with a non-believer. The man refused to believe in God at all, and said, "Show me a Miracle and perhaps then I will show Faith." The priest replied in frustration, "Why would God show you a Miracle unless you show faith?"

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Burnt Eggs and Genetics

Yesterday I had my first unsupervised cooking session... and as you may have guessed already, it ended in complete disaster!

While my parents had gone to supervise some stuff at the factory, I took the opportunity to get in some practice... after all, if I don't become a master chef in 3 weeks, I'll never be able to eat what I cook! So I chose to start with the simplest recipe of all: fried eggs. Basically, you put the pan on, light the stove, add some butter or ghee, and break a couple of eggs and dunk them in the pan. Finito. Er... well, there is the little matter of maintaining the temperature of the pan... while I waited for the top portion to get cooked, the bottom portion got burnt.

It was very bitter. The eggs, I mean. I took one bite and spat it out; then I had to make a quick rendezvous with the trash can. Oh well. A lesson learnt the hard way is a lesson you won't forget. So much for inheriting my Mom's talent at cooking.

Come to think of it, I don't actually believe that one can inherit talents through the genes. I mean, sure we've all seen things that "run in the blood", but there are as many contradictions as there are cases for this. I don't believe that any mental characteristics can be influenced by genetics; most definitely, not intelligence. I believe that the mental and emotional make up of a person is influenced entirely by the conditions around the child while he/she is growing up. The same goes for Scruples and Conscience. Two children brought up in the same environment with the same kind of treatment and stimuli are more likely to behave similarly than twins brought up differently. I think most people agree with that statement, the conflict comes mostly when I say that "talents" and other "natural abilities" or propensities are also totally uninfluenced by genetics. What's your opinion?

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Twenty Two

That's how old I'll be tomorrow. As of July 20th, 2005, I'll have completed four years of adulthood. That means I am not a kid. Repeat. I am N-O-T a kid. Any claimants to the contrary will have a nose lengthening hex placed on them.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Black and White

The benefit of hindsight is that you can finally afford to detach yourself from the complications of any issue and look at things objectively. Even better, if the distance is enhanced by a sense of physical separation from the people and places involved. Now, with my shift of base to the US a near certainity and merely three weeks away, I feel drawn to retrospection, and for once I think I am able to see things in Black and White.

I can remember every important instance of my failure; in academics; in friendship; in love; and in family. Suddenly stripped of all excuses and mitigating circumstances, the pain strikes in blinding flashes. I feel like it is Judgement Day; I have been weighed, and found lacking. "Beyond my control," "Beyond my ability," "Unreasonable to ask that of any person," "No time," "Nothing more I can do; it will work out by itself," "Not my job." Every time that I end up short of the line, I console myself with one of these.

Maybe I am being too harsh on myself. Maybe I really could not have avoided every bad thing that has happened to me in the past 5 years. A handful of bad grades; a lot of pain caused to a dear friend who's seen too many troubles already; some family quarrels that I might have been able to soothe faster if I'd taken the initiative to step in; a lot more things on that list. But I can't help but feel that if only I'd done my duty as a student, a friend, a member of the family... things would be different. Things would be better.

For all my criticism of Robert Jordan, the Wheel of Time does have it's strokes of brilliance. My favourite quote from it: "Death is a feather; Duty is a mountain."

Duty. We all know our duties. But it can be hard, oh, so very hard to do everything, and do it well. The well-being of our lives and conscience seems to be inexorably linked to duty.

My life is actually quite rosy at the moment... but I'm given to such fits of self-chastisement on occasion. Hope it passes... I have work to do!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Emancipation of Women?

I've always maintained that after I get married, I'd like to go the nuclear way; live in an apartment by ourselves, away from family; no servants. As a husband I'll share the housework, cooking, cleaning, raising the kids, etc. so that my wife can spend as much time on her career as I do on mine. After all, it's her right.

Of course, nobody believes that it is possible. They say that even if my intentions are sincere, the practicalities of the matter will result in reality being otherwise. I stubbornly held, and indeed still hold, that it is just a matter of the men in our country changing their mindsets a little, and equality of men and women will be more reality than myth.

I must admit that my confidence that this vision will come to pass has been steadily eroded over the years, the biggest blow having come in the past couple of weeks, as I watch my Mom grilling my s-i-l on how to be a good housewife. It's not merely information on where things are and how to maintain them; there's a lot of stuff on rituals and behaviour and more junk that I can't list here. I watch my s-i-l listen attentively and see her gradually change into a housewife, right in front of my eyes.

The irony of it all is that she requires no persuasion or extensive training. She's been molded from birth to fit the role she's walking into, and she accepts it calmly, and indeed, happily. But even if she wanted to be a free soul, expecting treatment equal to what her husband receives, I can see the invisible hand of thousands of years of tradition pushing her gently but surely into submission.

And so it goes on. The woman of the house lights the lamp in the puja room everyday, and efficiently executes her duties of attending to the needs of the men, elders and children. She prays, cooks and supervises the servants in the more menial duties, while the men go out for work everyday and "bring in the money that feeds the household".

As if women don't know how to earn and men don't know how to cook. The whole thing is enough to make me gag. Let's hope my wife and my life are a little bit different.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

The Three R's

No, I'm not talking about Reading, Riting and Rithmetic; I'm talking about Reading, Re-Reading, and Re-re-reading.

Whenever I mention to someone that I've been re-reading a book for the Nth time, N being a finite positive integer, I get incredulous looks and the occasional curse or two. They think I'm crazy to read a book more than once... they say, if you already know everything thats going to happen, what's the point in reading it? Strangely the same folk condone re-watching of movies, because "some movies are absolute classics" and watching them is such a "great experience" that there is nothing wrong in watching them again.

I don't see how the logic is any different. The first time you read a book, the tendency is to focus on the story. I mean, since you're not mugging the novel for an exam, you are unlikely to note every subtle aspect of character or shade of meaning of some line or hint in the plot. I, for one, read faster than a page a minute on an average, and if the print size is large and the book is fast-paced, I'm capable of doubling that. Still, I don't think my understanding is hampered much by my speed... it is just that there is only so much that an average human being can digest at one go. Everytime I re-read a novel, I discover something I've missed on the previous read, and my appreciation of the author grows.

For example, when I first read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I felt that it was way below the standards set by Rowling so far. It read a lot like a soap opera... some pointless romance stuff; Mahabharath - style battle scenes; I felt that the plot totally lacked the subtlety and the twists that I've come to admire her for.

But on re-reading it this week, I've softened my stance... because I think I understand what she actually tried to do in the book. She needed to bring out some aspects of Harry's character - something that she's sorely neglected in the previous books, and capture the tumultous emotions in his heart. If you chuck the story aside and look at the little things, you'll find that the book nicely sets the stage for Half - Blood Prince.

The same kind of thing applies for movies as well... the first time you see a movie, you are unlikely to absorb the significance of every phrase in the dialogue or aspect of the setting. Only when you watch it for the second time will you begin to appreciate the nuances of the plot and everything that the scriptwriter and director tried to bring out. And when you appreciate it better, it means you enjoy it as well.

Still, I never get bored of re-reading my favourite novels even after I've absorbed every single word like a sponge. I must have read Second Foundation over 12 times! Perhaps taking it to that extreme is a bit insane, but then again, I've never actually claimed to be completely sane!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

A Book Review Blog

Kaushik and Karande have started a book review blog with some of their friends, and have invited me to join. Find the link here. I've put up one review already; find it here.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Catharsis

Human beings have a tendency to fall into ruts. They spiral into these deep holes of their own making, and pretend there is no world outside. They curl up in there, avoiding their responsibilities, deceiving themselves on purpose that everything is and will be alright. Sometimes they do it out of depression, out of a need to shut themselves from unpleasant truths. Sometimes it is out of sheer complacency, thinking that if they avoid something long enough it will just go away.

Some have the willpower to pull themselves out before it is too late. Some have friends or family who see the signs and pull them out. Some are not so fortunate, and their lives are never the same.

Every now and then when you fall in, and find your way out, you experience a catharsis, a cleansing of the soul. The body gets recharged with energy and determination, hope and faith. The latter pair in particular, you cannot do without. Without your periodic refill, you will flounder in a world that is devoid of mercy. Hope that things will turn for the better, and faith that the actions of yourself and those who care about you will do the job for you.

Being alone is not for the faint of heart or the weak of mind. It is very easy to lose your way without a beacon. With none outside, you must find it within.

I guess this is why the most popular person in the universe is God.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

A Hair - Raising Experience

Having studiously avoided all buildings with the word "beauty" or "stylist" for all but the last one week of my life, I finally had to give in to my Mom and go to a hair stylist before my brother's wedding. I fully expected to have a hair-rowing time, but I think I got even more than what I'd bargained for.

With a confidence that my father had heretofore never seen from me, I calmly announced to the lady at the counter that I wanted a facial and a new hair style. Then, with anxiety that I could hardly conceal, I waited in the barber's chair in a little closed room with parallel mirrors, feeling a little like Alice in the rabbit hole, looking at the paraphernalia of cosmetics and gizmos on the table.

One guy entered to analyze my hair. He got immediately alarmed and brought his superior. This guy looked at my hair with the practiced eye of an expert and made some curt suggestions and left. The other guy shook his head and told me conspirationally that it won't work, and explained to me in detail why anything he did to change my hair style radically would go away with a single shower. So he did a bit of trimming and said he'd get back to me after my facial.

Now the facial guy came in and massaged my face after applying some musty paste. Ouch. He rinsed it off and did it again. And again and again! And then again, with a coarser and harsher paste! I felt like a shoe that was being polished repeatedly till it shone like a mirror.

If you think that was the end of it, you're wrong. From the jaws of death, into the pits of hell (sorry, Tennyson). It was time to steam-cook my face now. I felt like I'd dunked my head into a furnace. It was getting difficult to even breathe! Abruptly, exit furnace, enter freezer. Yikes! The face pack he applied next was c-o-l-d! And he left it on for 20 minutes until it dried and the smallest twitch of a muscle on my face was impossible.

Phew! Finally, it came off. With my new (I was sure) shiny face I was taken to another room for the hair styling. With grim determination, the stylist shampoo-ed my hair, dried it and applied a setting liquid. He then combed it in a manner almost identical to my usual manner, and used the drier to make it stay. Finally he announced that that was the best he could do with what he'd been given to work with. Not in the mood to argue that I didn't really look different, I thanked him and paid up - hold your breath - 750 bucks for the services rendered and blatantly lied that I would come back with longer hair for a more "proper" styling before I left for the states.

Who on Earth would voluntarily do that more than once??!! And they even have things like pedicure, manicure, and loads of scarier names. Ooof... women! They're pure nuts!

Cheers,
Prashanth.