Location: Chennai

Need to change it on all my profiles, and get used to the time zone :)

Be back with a short story in a couple of days!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Flying back....

... to chennai next weekend. Goodbye US, will not be seeing much of you for... well, a long time. I wish I were returning to an IIT hostel instead of home so that I can pull an all-nighter on bridge or computer games. Yeah, normal people would simply get drunk, but I don't drink, hence the weirdness of the unwinding wish.

Of course, I still need to survive the remaining one week, which is more or less going to be hell.

Wish me luck.
Prashanth.

P.S. All those in the US I am in touch with by phone, you have only one week to call me. So call. Now!

Try These....

Movie: American Gangster
I watched a few of the new movies this month but they aren't very good, except for this one. Denzel Washington is brilliant in it. When he says "My man" you feel like smiling, and at the same time chilled to the bone.

Television: Chuck (NBC)
This is a must-watch serial for geeks. Chuck is a lovable, innocent, geeky bloke who fixes computers at Nerd Herd for a living. One day he receives an email from his old college pal and when he opens it, there is a short puzzle in the form of a scene from one of those old text-based computer games (which is very good protection, if you think about it :) ). And when Chuck solves it, he is sent into trance by a flood of images... hours later, the images stop, he faints, the computer crashes... and when he wakes up, he has all the secrets of the CIA and the NSA in his head. The two agencies want to kill him... except, the facility from which those secrets were stolen was one of a kind, and was destroyed. So they have no choice but to use him, and Chuck is forced to do spy-type stuff. Cool idea na? There are some really hilarious parts, like when Chuck is forced to prove his identity by speaking in Klingon. Five stars from me any day.

Books: Malazan Book of the Fallen series by Steven Erikson
I've read so many fantasy series that I can't keep count, but the only really good author that I feel like recommending (other than my perennial favourite Raymond Feist) is this guy. The series is not for the faint of heart, though. You get pulled into a rich, complex fantasy realm and an epic struggle, and Erikson doesn't try to explain things, you understand more about the land as you read more. Which is just the way I like it.


Cheers,
Prashanth.

Atra du evarinya ono varda

(Means, "May the stars watch over you")

I just finished reading Christopher Paolini's books Eragon and Eldest, and I was pleasantly surprised by their quality. For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, Eragon is a fantasy fiction book that Paolini started writing when he was 15 and got published when he was 19, and became a bestseller. It was made into a movie earlier this year, which unfortunately was not very good. I watched the movie the week it was released, and combined with that and the fact that Eragon was in the Children's section at the public library here, I was not very enthusiastic about reading it.

But I was wrong. The series is quite interesting thus far, with few of the flaws you would expect from a young writer. The characters are well fleshed out, the hero is very human and makes mistakes, and Paolini has created a whole new language complete with grammar and syntax. This language is spoken by the race of the elves, and one cannot lie when speaking it; it is also the language used for structuring and casting magical spells. However, the story is a little predictable and there are a few logical inconsistencies; still, they do not detract much from the enjoyment of the tale. I highly recommend the book for fantasy fans in the teen and young adult age group, if you are older of course I have better fantasy writers to suggest :)

Paolini is a few months younger than me and the third book of the series is scheduled to be released in Sep 2008.

Eka fricai un Shur'tugal (I am a friend and a Dragonrider)
Prashanth.

Only two things in life are certain...

Death and Taxes.

I just watched the movie Meet Joe Black on TV. I've seen it before, but by some weird coincidence I've only managed to catch it at or after the scene where "Joe" is introduced to the family. This time, though, I watched the movie from the beginning... and was quite amused by some subtle statements that I didn't quite get the significance of earlier.

For example, there is a scene where Joe tells Susan Parish, "Be sorry for nothing."

In general, good advice... but when Death tells you to be sorry for nothing, it takes on a whole new meaning. Which one of us can truly say, "I have done nothing in my life to be sorry for"? It takes a lot of wisdom gleaned from experience before one can claim to be sure that one is doing the right thing... and sometimes even that is not enough. Good intentions are seldom enough for you to be able to say later, "I have no regrets." Life is just too full of uncertainties.

After all, the only two things that are certain are Death and Taxes.

I have noticed that of late, I have been contradicting myself on my blog, with my mixed emotions, hopes and moods being transparent to all. I don't mind it. I meant to share those thoughts. Things have been tough, and I have only recently come to understand that there are no quick fixes in life. Everything takes time. And effort. But with those experiences come maturity, and stability. Wisdom, it appears, is forged like steel on hot coals.

Be sorry for nothing, he said. A worthy thing to aspire to. I will do my best, as always, to behave in such a way that at the end of the day I can say I have nothing to be sorry for. Who knows, one day I might achieve it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

My Favourite Dark Elf

Let me tell you about one of my favourite heroes (in fiction, that is).

Drizzt Do'Urden is a character created by the author Robert A. Salvatore. Drizzt is a Dark Elf - people whose society had a code very different from ours. They worshiped a Goddess who loved schemes, deceit and chaos. Their city was composed of several noble Houses, who held power according to their standing in the eyes of their Goddess. There were several routes to power, both for an individual and for a House; the trick is to obliterate those above you without anyone being able to pin it on you. If you were in a battle and you managed to stab your elder brother without anyone noticing, and blame it on the enemies, you earned his position by right even if people suspected what you did. The more complicated the plan to make a House lose face, or lose people, or other assets, without it being traceable to you, the more you and your House were appreciated for it. It was a society whose rules and morals we cannot identify with. The ruthlessness of this race gained them almost universal hatred from the "surface races", for these people lived in underground cities. Drizzt was born into such a society.

It is said that a child inculcates the morals that society imparts to him, and that people are not born with a sense of right and wrong. But that did not apply to Drizzt. Right from when he was a child, he knew something was badly wrong with everything. His soul could not abide the viciousness he was surrounded by. So he left. He abandoned everything he knew and left for the surface world, where he would constantly be judged and feared by the colour of his skin that identified his race. But Drizzt was an innately good person and always helped people, and that won him some friends. A precious few friends, but that was enough. The sense of belonging comes from being in a place where you have friends.

It is hard for me to explain the full relevance of the story here, but I hoped you liked it anyway, and just keep that last line in mind.

Now, what if I told you that I still do not feel like I belong here, I have no people in this town that I can consider as a close friend in spite of being here for two years? Is it right to abandon everything and leave just because you don't have friends? Shouldn't one have a sense of professional duty and courtesy, finish what you started, don't leave when there are people depending on you? I've tried to be happy here but I know now that I failed. There were other reasons for me being unhappy before, so I came back here after my illness to give it another try. But it still hasn't worked. Is it okay to be selfish, and leave?

Does every man truly have the right to the pursuit of happiness? What about duty and responsibility? You can't have rights without responsibilities, said my Civics teacher. How do you resolve the conflict then?

A very confused
Prashanth.

Oranges and Hot Chocolate

Earlier this week, I was at work and asked one of my friends if she had a snack (I only keep boring trail mix bars in my desk), and she handed me an orange. I thanked her but stood and stared at the orange. "What?" she asked. "I've never peeled an orange before. I don't know how," I replied.

I have a car and my friends at the lab don't, and I've been awfully nice about lending chauffeur services so I didn't get any snide remarks about spoilt brats at that time, and she simply loosened the skin and peeled a bit of the orange to start me off and handed the orange back to me. But I couldn't help thinking, "Oh My God. My Mom or Grandmom always peeled my oranges. That's how spoilt I am."

I guess there is so much we take for granted about living with family that the realities of living alone hit us slowly, one by one by one, and keep going. Whether it is about handling complex financial issues or just peeling an orange, life is a constant learning experience.

------

Are you one of those people who say, "Hot chocolate is for wusses. Have coffee in the daytime, alcohol in the nighttime. And make that black coffee and hard alcohol."

If you are, then you've never had hot chocolate at the Original Waffle Shop. I wish I had a photograph to show you, but I'll have to make do with words. A decent-sized cup of rich hot chocolate, topped by a spiral tower of whipped cream nearly as high as the cup itself, sprinkled with chocolate chips. Sinful! The whipped cream melts into the hot chocolate if you wait and watch. Or you can preempt it and take spoonfuls of cream and hot chocolate to start your meal. By the time I finished the cup I was so full I only managed to have half my actual meal, and took the rest to go!

And oh yes, they gave me a slice of orange with my meal. Fortunately I didn't have to peel it.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Being in control

Do you do a periodic mental "check" of how you are doing in life?

I realized something this week. I feel more at ease with my situation because I am in control of my life now. Aside from the usual insecurities about research work, publication and graduation that all PhD students have, I feel confident that things are going the right way. A huge contrast from how things have been this past year.

Even if the circumstances are adverse, I do not feel worried as long as I am in control and have no external pressures. It follows then that I should take decisions in life in such a way as to keep my independence. That line of thought leads down some difficult roads, which I fortunately do not have to worry about for a while.

This would normally be the point where I would say "In other news, ..." but there really is no other news. I needed some stability, now I got it. So it is time to make good things happen.

Cheers
Prashanth.

Book Tag, Again

I was tagged by Jyo ages ago, and finally found the time to do it!

Total Number of Books Owned:
If they are few enough that you can count them, you are not a book lover!!

Last Book Bought:
Legend by David Gemmell
If you are a fan of battles like the one at Helm's Deep in Lord of the Rings, you'll love this book.

Last Book Read:
Feast of Souls by C.S. Friedman
A decent fantasy book, but not good enough for me to actually recommend to someone. Perhaps I have been spoiled by Steven Erikson: if an important character dies, it must be in an utmost heroic, ironic, epic fashion!

Five Books that mean a lot to you:
1. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
I like the concept of Objectivism. I'm not one of those Rand-fanatics though; I don't go around spreading objectivist philosophy; I simply find the concept interesting enough that it made me think. The fact that this book made me have philosophical discussions in my head puts it in this list.

2. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Most writers dream of being able to make their readers put themselves in the shoes of the character, to look through their eyes, to think and feel like them. Salinger achieves this, in a way that I am yet to see duplicated. On top of that, this book will make you feel ashamed of the little hypocrite in you, in all of us. Rare. A gem of a book.

3. Foundation by Isaac Asimov
The classic science fiction novel! When you say SciFi what pictures does the word conjure up in your head? Non-Scifi people think about Star Trek and such. But the real Scifi fan thinks about Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein... its not spaceships and lasers and robots that make the Scifi story, it is the setting, the possibilities in writing stories when you are not fettered by the sad truths and realities in the world.

4. Magician by Raymond Feist
What I just said for Scifi goes for Fantasy too. And the fantasy book that did it for me was not Lord of the Rings but Magician. This is the book that started it all for me, got me into the fantasy genre, made me want to write fantasy stories, everything. A great read, a balanced book, a great storyteller.

Well, four will have to do for now.

Cheers
Prashanth.

I wouldn't, either

Do you remember that scene in the movie American Beauty in which Kevin Spacey is at his self-deprecating best?

Guy: Hi, I'm X.
Spacey: Actually, we already met - at that Christmas party last year.
Guy: Ohhhh...
Spacey: Don't worry, I wouldn't remember me either.

Well, something similar happened to me today. The person was Girl In Stat Class, GISC for short.

Me: Actually, I'm headed to X Building in the west campus. I'm in the Industrial Engineering Department, you know.
GISC: Oh, then you must me knowing C...
Me: (sigh) Yes, you already told me, she's your neighbour.

I nearly wanted to add, "Yeah, I wouldn't remember talking to me either."

But it's even more sad because I'm quite sure I've done the same thing to other people on many an occasion. I just have a terrible memory for people-related things. In fact, I'm a terrible people-person, period. But that does not excuse such behaviour, now that I know how it feels to be at the receiving end.

Moral of the story? Pay attention to people. Be a better listener.

Hopefully I have learnt my lesson!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Robert Jordan Dies

Robert Jordan, author of the Wheel of Time fantasy series, is dead. He had been suffering from amyloidosis, a blood disorder, for a while and us fans have been aware of it. Although he came under some flak for stretching the series t__h__i__n, I for one have enjoyed the Wheel of Time series and even re-read the entire thing this summer in anticipation of the last book (which, sadly, will never come now).

Here is the link to the NY Times article.

I am a big enough fan of Jordan that I mention him on my blog often, and not just on fantasy reviews, but even on other random ones.

Peace favour your sword.

Prashanth.

Stepping out....

When I landed back in the US last month, I thought it would take a few days for me to get my affairs in order.

A few days passed and as I got a better idea of what I was facing, I began to think it would probably take a few weeks.

Now it has been almost three weeks and I have come to realize the full extent of what I can only describe as self-sabotage, committed in a period when I was depressed and distracted, and simply not myself. And I know it is not a matter of days or weeks but months before I can fix everything that is broken. It takes far longer to rebuild than it takes to ruin something.

I am going to throw myself into work for a few months, and will not be much hanging around any blogs during that time. I do hope to get a short story or two in. Please keep in touch by email / chat / phone in the meantime!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

One liners

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” - William Shakespeare, from Twelfth Night.

"Some are born humble, some achieve humility, and some have humility thrust upon them." - Prashanth Sriram, who always gains his wisdom too late.

Vignettes

Life at Penn State has its ups and downs but is quite colourful.

I took a cab back to my apartment from the airport, and the driver struck up a conversation with me. He said he was considering applying for a degree in EE at Penn State, then went off tangentially on how Professors tend to mentally classify their students as smart, not-so-smart, and dumb (the phrase "good, bad, ugly" came to mind!). He said that he felt work ethic was more important than innate intelligence. I told him about IITians getting flak from the rest of India, with people saying that there is nothing special about IITians, and just because they got good scores in JEE it doesn't mean they are super-intelligent humans and etc. Of course, they conveniently forget that we IITians never claimed to be super-intelligent and being an IITian is as much about hard work as it is about intelligence.

As soon as I stepped into my apartment it became crystal clear to me why it is an excellent decision to move out. It was the most disgusting, dirtiest place I have ever set foot on. Apparently my roommates had to rush to other states on internships soon after their exams and in their hurry they didn't even bother to clean the dishes - or even transfer them from the living room table to the sink. Moving is hard work and shopping for a new apartment is vexing work but I couldn't be happier doing it. My new apartment isn't perfect - the kitchen in particular is lacking a few amenities I am used to taking for granted, like a gas stove rather than an electric stove - but it is clean and spacious and has free cable TV :)

Dropping by at my friend's apartment carrying edible goodies from home, I was witness to a poor american girl backing up her car and going smack into a parked car behind her in the parking lot. There was a sizeable dent in the other car and she broke the taillights on hers. She seemed like a young undergrad not used to such stuff and seemed extremely nervous about what she had done, and appeared to have no idea what to do about the situation. So I stopped for a minute and told her what needed to be done - having been at both ends of similar incidents in the past myself. One time, a driver skid on the icy driveway and smashed into the rear of my car. Another time, I was backing out of Starbucks and grazed the rear bumper of a brand new BMW. It was only a paint smudge, so I settled things with him and we kept my insurance company out of it, lest my premium go up - but that was the first time I had caused any kind of damage to any other vehicle, and was quite nervous myself. Full sympathies to that girl!

A cup of coffee at Starbucks costs three times as much as coffee at any other place, but it also tastes three times better so I often choose the slightly longer walk and the extra two dollars to get that perfect cup of morning coffee. Coffee in hand, I was passed by a Pakistani woman and her little girl, who stopped at the pedestrian crossing and pressed the button. Seeing no car in sight, I started crossing the road without waiting for the walk signal, and the woman with her daughter started crossing with me, and said "Thanks!". I asked her why she was thanking me, and she said it was easier to break a traffic rule when you are doing it with some other person :)

What can I say, it feels good to be back in State College.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Snap out of it

Note to Self:

This has been a nice vacation, getting away from grad life and reconnecting with Chennai and everything that goes with it. Yes, IIT Madras junta are superb company and you always have fun with them. Yes, you will never get that atmosphere at Penn State - that easy banter, talking about familiar things, be it the introduction of a Cafe Coffee Day in the campus or how you made that slam hand at Bridge by a "squeeze" play on your left hand opponent. It is also nice to eat your Mom's cooking everyday and not have to worry about taking that stain out of your t-shirt or how much chilli powder to put in your dish. It is fun to go to the Landmark quiz with old friends and to boss around your younger cousins.

SNAP OUT OF IT.

In twenty four hours you will be on a flight back to the USA and you will have to worry not only about your courses and your research, but about moving to a new apartment, money matters, insurance, cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping and about a million more things. Your friends there may not quite be on your wavelength but they care about you nonetheless. You have enjoyed your few months of happy nostalgia, now face it - you have left that life behind. Better get adjusted to your new one.

(Gives self a mental shake and a light slap)

Butterfingers

As a consequence of having some free time on my hands, I have been watching cricket - India's tour of Bangladesh and now England. It is a little strange because I stopped following cricket once I finished high school, barring a brief period during the 2003 World Cup. Some of my old enthusiasm for the game has returned, though no doubt it will disappear again once I return to the US, and it has also brought back memories of a time when I did play a bit of gully cricket myself.

Like all normal people, I used to play a bit of cricket in backyards and gullies. Even though I was never good at it, us Indians are so cricket crazy that you cannot avoid living without playing cricket. And so, by the time I neared high school, we were playing cricket in community sports grounds. I quickly developed a reputation for needing a by-runner within a few minutes at the crease - I'm not the athletic type and get tired quickly! And an even bigger reputation for having butterfingers. I was decent at catching flat balls... but whenever the batsman skied the ball, it would pop out of my hands when I tried to catch it. After that there is a 50% probability of me getting hands on it again before it hits the ground... and if I do, there is a 50% chance of it popping out again, and so on! Go ahead, picture it and laugh. I don't mind :)

In my whole five years of college in Chennai I only played cricket once, choosing instead the simpler sports of volleyball and roller skating. But that one time I played, I executed a couple of stylish cover drives that earned me a comment from the bowler, "Looks like we have a regular Rahul Dravid on our hands." Was that genuine or sarcastic, you ask? Well, you see, we were short of space as well as players, so we were playing with only an on-side. Five feet from the stumps on the off-side was the wall that collected all my cover drives!

These days of course, the only "sport" that occupies me is bridge... and perhaps a bit of ice skating. I will be flying back this week so my blog may be a little quiet for a while. But I promise to use my flying time to think of a new short story for the blog!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Moment of the week

This week my cousin came over from Salem. Now, there are a few standard things we do whenever he comes. One is to go watch the latest English movie, as only the Tamil dubbed versions generally get released there (I once unwittingly went to watch Spiderman when I was there and found out after the movie started that it was in Tamil!). Another is food - you can't get a decent pan pizza or an authentic chaat anywhere in that town! So, this time, he said, "Let's go to that place and have a chaat."

Now, that place is one of the few places in Chennai that you can have a real chaat, and is conveniently situated close to my house. Countless are the times I've been there with my brother or a cousin or a friend and ordered a Dahi Puri for myself and whatever for the other person. Yes, I always order Dahi Puri there. It's just tooooo gooood.

With an awfully familiar feeling we drive there and I order two Dahi Puris, handing over three ten-rupee notes. This time, though, the cashier peers at me and says, "Sixty one rupees saab."

With a slightly stunned expression I ferret some more cash out of my wallet and say that the price was fifteen rupees when I used to come here, four years ago. The cashier informs me gently, "Fifteen rupees for a Dahi Puri? That would be eight years ago, saab."

He was right, of course. And to think, I regard some people as old-fashioned, and even tell some people to their faces that they are old-fashioned. Here I am, twenty four years old and as ancient-minded as any of them. Gah! Truly, that was my WTF moment of the week.

Please, make me feel better. Tell me your WTF moment of the week.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

A toast, to new beginnings!

It is said that a traumatic experience can change a person. I can attest to that now. In outlook, in attitude, in philosophy, in temperament, I am a different man from who I was last year.

That is one of the reasons I am looking forward to returning to the US, with this long hiatus drawing to a close. But even the other reasons are not that I will be returning to something familiar, but to something different. I am moving to a new apartment (No roommates! Finally, I will have a clean kitchen and a clutter-free home!), and there are some new directions to work on for my research. I guess there is something about new beginnings that lifts one's spirit.

Meanwhile, in Chennai, my home is being wiped clean of every trace of me. My old clothes have been donated, my footwear thrown away, my books put into cartons and stored in remote locations, my photograph on the wall of the living room pulled down; anything that yelled "Prashanth" has either been hidden away or thrown away. I don't even have my own room anymore. No, my parents aren't planning on selling me or anything, its just that I've spent five years in a hostel and two years in the US, and old things need to make space for new. It is all mildly depressing, but home is made of people, not things. So I'm fine with it. It reinforces the feeling that I am starting with a clean slate.

It has been a time of new beginnings for many of friends, too. Some are graduating with doctorates. Some are joining grad programs. Some are changing jobs. Some are getting married. And they are all excited about it.

Go and fetch your glass, for I want to raise a toast. To fresh starts. To new beginnings!

Cheers!
Prashanth.

Reading list

I was chatting with a blogger friend about books and realized I'd better make a list of books I've been meaning to read. I thought I'd put up the list here so that passers-by (that means you!) can make suggestions for me to add to the list.

Edited in: Found one social networking site that isn't socially destructive - Shelfari, a place to share your book discoveries with your friends. Every book is automatically a community through a central database, putting together user reviews, discussion forums, etc.


Regular Fiction:

Shantaram by Gregory Roberts

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

The Bridge Across Forever by Richard Bach

Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera


Masala Fiction:

The Quest by Wilbur Smith

The Alexandria Link by Steve Berry

The Inscrutable Americans by Anurag Mathur (shifted here on Kaushik's insistence!)


Fantasy and Science Fiction:

Into a Dark Realm by Raymond Feist (Second Darkwar Novel)

Midnight Tides by Steven Erikson (Fifth book in Malazan Book of the Fallen - one of the best fantasy series ever written)

Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein

Prophecy: Child of the Earth by Elizabeth Haydon (Sequel to Rhapsody)

Canticle by R. A. Salvatore (Beginning the Cleric Quintet)

Keeper Martin's Tale by Robert Stepanek (Beginning the Ruinmist Chronicles)

Renegade's Magic by Robin Hobb (Concluding the Soldier Son Trilogy)


Non-Fiction:

Bookless in Baghdad by Shashi Tharoor

The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen (Currently reading... super so far!)

A Short Story: Can you bring me some colours?

(Inspired by J.)

I pulled the curtains open. I felt a desperate need to get some sunlight, some cheer into the room. But the bleak landscape outside brought no comfort. I had to call somebody, to try and shake off the pall settling on my mood. But who?

There was one. He always knew what to do in these situations. "Old friends are like wine," he had said, "The longer you know them, the less you see of them, but the more you cherish those occasions. Those meetings gain in maturity, in sparkle, in fulfillment, making up for what they lack in frequency." I hated him for that philosophical bent of his, hated him for saying things I did not want to hear, hated him for being right. But he had never let me down. No, he was far, far, more generous than I could ever be.

And I hated him for that too.

I called him.

"Hey. It's me."

"Hi! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a task for you."

A chuckle. "At your service, m'lady. What can I do for you today?"

"Of late, my world has become... gray. Can you bring me some colours?"

"Ah, but colours do not behave that way. Perhaps if you go to them, they may agree to come back with you. But nobody can simply bring them to you."

"What should I do?"

"I'll pick you up. Half an hour."

--------

He was as I always remembered him. It was easy to talk to him. Most of the time. He was a good listener. It was when he went into one of his speeches or self-designed proverbs that he became unbearable. But he didn't do that as we drove into the outskirts of the city. He always had a sense of timing. Now was not the time. I would have jumped out of the car while it was moving and hitch-hiked back if he did. He probably knew that, too.

We pulled up at a farm just outside the city. The workers there greeted him cheerily and he waved back. "I come here now and then. It belongs to a distant uncle," he explained.

We walked into a beautiful meadow. Cows grazed placidly, and regarded us with big, friendly eyes. The grass was soft and damp under our feet; there were copses of trees some distance away; and the air was clean and fresh and redolent with the smell of dew. Some children were playing tag nearby. He plucked at my sleeve and we headed in their direction.

I looked at him incredulously. Surely he didn't expect me to play! But he had that mischievous glint in his eyes that said that was exactly what he had in mind. And there we played with those kids, running around bare-footed, weaving to avoid a catcher, laughing, short of breath. It was fabulous. I felt free for the first time in a long, long, time.

We sat down in exhaustion some time later. My chest was heaving with the exertion but I was smiling. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a little cloth bag. It was embroidered in beautiful patterns, and by a slight reluctance in the way he pulled it out, I gathered that it was a personal treasure of sorts. He pulled a long blade of grass out of the ground and gave it to me with the bag. "Look at it. Feel it. Your first colour, the green of light-hearted joy. Then put it inside the bag."

I did all that. We walked back to the car. As we drove back, he said, "I'll pick you up tomorrow, same time in the afternoon. We'll go and fetch your second colour." I smiled at him. He smiled back, a little too softly. I felt mildly ashamed. But I got out and went back to my apartment without a word.

--------

This time, we drove up to a little quay by the sea and rented a small boat. But it had a quiet and powerful motor, and very soon I was laughing into the wind and splashing the water as we streaked through it. The sky was cloudless, the most wonderful shade of azure blue. The water was a darker but no less enjoyable shade of blue, and it glistened with golden sunlight towards the horizon.

He stopped the motor after a while, and we floated there - in every sense of the word - with only the sky and the water and the sun to keep us company. A few birds flew over our heads, but they only added to the deep sense of blissful serenity that was creeping into my soul. The whole time, he had said nothing. We just sat there, leaning against each other, soaking up the surroundings. When the sun started getting too low, he pulled out a camera, one of those that print out the picture on the spot, took a snap of the horizon, blue meeting blue in a flare of gold, and handed me the picture. I looked at it for a long minute and put it into the cloth bag, wordlessly, as he started the motor to head back.

As we alighted at my apartment, he finally spoke, "Same time tomorrow." I nodded.

---------

The third day was not quite so pleasant. I was alarmed when we pulled up into a hospital. I hate hospitals. He knew that already. I can't stand the atmosphere of pain and loss, can't stand the sight of blood and violence, am liable to faint at the sight of a needle. But he gripped me tightly by the arm and led me inside. He spoke to a nurse, who seemed familiar with him, and she led us into the emergency ward.

Nobody stood still in that place. In fact, they were always in a rush. And with good reason. In the first 5 minutes there we saw at least six patients wheeled in with gruesome injuries or symptoms. One man had been in an accident, and was bleeding so profusely that the blanket covering him was entirely bathed in blood. They wasted no time in taking him into an operating room.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But he still held my arm tightly. Not cruelly, in the physical sense, but cruelly nonetheless. A nurse and a woman doctor wheeled in another guy who appeared to have been knifed. There were two gaping slashes across his chest and stomach, bleeding red, red blood. The nurse seemed frantic and kept saying that the operating rooms were full, and left to find someone who could do something about it. The doctor examined the man closely and suddenly seemed alarmed. "This can't wait," she said aloud into the air and beckoned to me. "You, press this down against this wound to staunch the bleeding. I am going to stitch the other wound right here. He has lost a lot of blood." And she handed me a strip of gauze. Just like that. I obeyed mindlessly.

It took her only a minute. She then moved on to the wound I was covering and stitched it up quickly and expertly. She examined her handiwork and nodded to herself. Then, she did the strangest thing. She pressed her palm against his forehead, closed her eyes and said a quiet blessing. And left, without a word to me.

I was still holding the blood-drenched gauze. I looked at my friend and he nodded. I put it into the little cloth bag with the blade of grass and the picture of the sea. The grass had left a green splotch across the picture, and now I was adding a blood stain to it. Strangely, I did not feel guilty about doing so.

We walked out and he talked. Here comes the speech, I thought. But this time I listened most carefully.

"You see it as a place of pain and suffering. But I see it as a place of unwavering care and heroism. That blood is the mark of both. Without darkness, there is no light.

The Green of Joy, the Blue of Serenity, the Red of Suffering, they are all part of one tapestry. Look at the embroidery on the cloth bag closely. It appears to be made of all colours, yet it appears to be made of just one colour.

In trying to avoid pain, you ended up losing joy. Life is not meant to be spent avoiding feelings but embracing them. Lose one colour, and you will slowly find yourself losing them all, and the resulting gray existence is even more intolerable than the very pain you set out to avoid."

I cried. I stood there in front of his car and I cried like a baby. He took me into his arms and rocked me slowly. I think I must have bleached the shoulder of his shirt with my tears that day.

I returned his bag a week later, because I sensed it was precious to him. The blade of grass dried up and the bloody cloth turned brown, and I threw them away, but I kept the stained picture. I had found my colours.

X-------------X-------------X

Twenty Four

That's how old I will be tomorrow.

My birthday is usually something I mark on my blog with just a few words, wrapping it up with an indignant "See! See! That's how old I am. I'm not a kid anymore!" But not this time. I want to say more this time, because, in many ways, this has been my most difficult year. The most brutal, to be precise.

There is little point in dwelling on what happened; a lot of bad things happened, each different but related, each independently mind-numbing, but together, almost lethal. And yet, I feel obligated to at least make a note of what I did wrong. My best friend, an avid war-game strategist, put it in his characteristically blunt but accurate fashion, "Nobody can stand alone against an attack on multiple fronts." That was indeed my mistake. In my infinite ego, I believed I could put mind over matter, mind over emotion. And I believed I could do it alone.

I've come out with my body and spirit badly shaken, but with no lasting damage. I hope. My improbable saviour was actually this blog, and my blogger friends. Well... not so improbable. But I have learnt my lesson. I'll try not to bear every burden by myself. Not while I still have friends. As John Dorian would put it, "I can't do this on my own, I know, I'm no Superman."

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Talk to a girl about dragons...

... and likely she will think you are so weird that she will not talk to you again.

Or at least, that was the situation a few years ago. Perhaps, after reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, they are more forgiving of such things. I do not know.

The thing I like about Harry Potter is that it has successfully crossed all boundaries that traditionally bind the fantasy fan demographics. People of all ages read it. As many girls read it as guys. As many... er... normal people as geeks read it. On the other hand, the good old fantasy hits like Star Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, and Lord of the Rings do not have such a universal audience. They are generally considered the province of weird and immature geeks.

Case in point: I made a joke about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in that short story and nobody thought it was particularly out of place. Consider instead if I write a story in which one guy asks another for the fifty rupees he owes him and the chap makes a Jedi-like gesture with his fingers and commands, "I don't owe you any money." If anybody laughs I will go on to a Yoda-style "Return my money, you must. Else, in grave danger you are." But I don't really see anybody laughing.

I was quite chagrined to find out how few people have in fact watched Star Wars or read Lord of the Rings. I remember a conversation with a friend that went something like this:
She: A blogger called Wookie commented on my blog... who or what is a Wookie anyway?
Me: Chewbacca is a Wookie.
She: Who or what is a Chewbacca?
Me: Chewbacca is Han Solo's co-pilot.
She: Who is Han Solo?
Me: sigh.

My brother happened to make a passing mention of Lord of the Rings to my s-i-l a few days after his wedding and she reportedly asked what that was. Once again, that made me go sigh. So much for the educated young woman of today! If I block a doorway, stamp my umbrella on the ground and yell, "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" she will more likely send me to a mental asylum than pretend to be a Balrog.

But, wait, all hope is not lost, young fantasy-lover. Thanks to J. K. Rowling. The day will come when a guy can talk to a girl about dragons and she will ask him what his favourite kind is.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

P.S. Try this party riddle and let me know if anybody laughs. I am not responsible for any health hazards that may result, though :)

Q: Why didn't Umpire David Shepherd go to Bilbo Baggins' farewell party?
A: Because it was his Eleventy-First birthday!

Are kids these days losing the reading habit?

The Hindu today carried a news item that caught my eye. Incidentally, it had appeared in the New York Times yesterday. [link]

Essentially, what it says is that the habit of reading for pleasure is disappearing among the younger generation. They are either hooked on to their computers, X-Boxes, iPods and other gizmos, or they hang out with their friends. Reading is fast becoming "uncool", and though the Harry Potter phenomenon has helped, it has not quite done enough to arrest the trend.

Although this is neither new nor unexpected, seeing something as a hard statistic rather than a vague gut feeling makes a certain impression. This disturbing trend is not unique to the US. It is quite visible even in India, granted of course that the situation is not as bad.

For practically my whole life, I've been subjected to comments on my addiction to reading. Too many times have I heard some acquaintance of my parents say something like "Are you still reading a book a day? How thick are your glasses now?"

These are the same people whose kids spend as much time watching television as I do reading books and end up with far thicker glasses.

These are the same people who chide their kids to be more like "clever" me who "studied at IIT", never figuring that reading at an early age improves a child's mental faculties.

In the United States, parents lose influence over their children's lives at an early age. So it is not easy to place blame there... it is a somewhat complex social issue. But in India, if someone never got into the reading habit, I would place the blame squarely at their parents' feet. Not that the rest of the world has no role to play, but because parental influence is the easiest controllable factor.

But the complex social issue I was talking about, is that the loss of the reading habit is a small scene in a larger play. American society as a whole seems to be headed on a path of intellectual decline. I am reminded of an article I read in the bulletin of the American Contract Bridge League, talking about how poker seems to be the only card game kids are interested in playing. The game of bridge has precious few takers these days among the younger generation. Bridge simply doesn't offer instant gratification the way poker does. It takes a long time to learn to play well at bridge, and the game is less dramatic. It is infinitely more rewarding - for an intellectual person. There are similar statistics on the decline of participation in chess and in fact, all activities that involve deep thinking.

I really feel that Indian society can easily avoid falling into the same pattern, because of the strong emphasis on academic performance from a young age. If only our school system trained our youth to think instead of learn by rote. If I get into the contrast between the Central Board teaching and testing system vis-a-vis the Tamil Nadu State Board, I will end up talking forever. Suffice to say that I think the two important influences in a child's life in India - school and parents - need to be fixed. A little more awareness, a little more effort, and our country will be so far ahead in the world that nobody can catch up with us.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Potter-mania hits town

Did you see Harry Potter's new hairstyle? It no longer resembles mine *sigh*

Did you see that girl who plays Luna? She's way too good looking to be playing Loony Lovegood...

Helena Bonham Carter is perfect for playing Bellatrix Lestrange.

Those Thestrals look scary na... wait, I shouldn't be able to see Thestrals...

Have you bought your tickets yet?

Short Story: A Whisper on a Zephyr

(My first attempt at writing a romantic short story. Kindly grade me on mush factor: A - Nice - made me feel warm and fuzzy; B - Not bad, but I wouldn't hire you; C - Hand me some detergent, I got mush all over me! )

"I need your help," declared Tara, plopping down her coffee mug, "Remember my friend Sharanya?"

"Pretty little thing, shoulder-length hair, quotes Kipling when indignant and Yeats when murderous? How could I forget?" said Hari.

Tara giggled. "Well, she's been feeling low since her break-up way back in Jan, so I told her I'll find her a date who doesn't smoke, isn't a male chauvinist pig, and appreciates literature."

"Tough one."

"And seeing that all the guys I know are either married or in a different country, I thought you could recommend one for a blind date."

"Actually, I do know someone who fits the bill. I'll give Kiran a call. You've met him."

"Kiran... oh, the guitar guy? The songwriter-cum-singer chap?" she made a face, "Too chocolatey for my taste." Then she brightened, "What am I thinking? This is not for me. He'll be perfect for Sharanya!"

"Chocolatey?" he sounded amused. "Wait till I tell him. The expression on his face ought to be priceless!"

"Oh, you're an evil man!"

"So, which one am I?"

"Eh?"

"Married, or in a different country?"

Tara spluttered coffee all over the table. "Well, it's just that I've never seen you date and I've known you for how long, six years?" He raised an eyebrow as if to say all the more reason. "Not to imply that you're gay or anything, I know you're not," she said hastily. The other eyebrow went up. "Well, we've decided on Kiran, so that's that!" she said, defiantly ending the conversation.

-----------

"A blind date?" Kiran sounded doubtful.

"Don't worry, she is pretty, I've seen her," assured Hari.

"It's not the looks, I mean, I know nothing about her. What if she is the yelling type, or the technology type? You know I don't get along very well with most of your female friends."

"Look, I'll give you an escape call if you want, alright? Just give it a shot."

"Alright... twenty minutes after I'm in, you're calling me up, ok? I'll make up some emergency if I want to get out."

"Fine. By the way, I know exactly who you were thinking about when you said yelling and technology. She thinks you're too chocolatey, incidentally."

Kiran looked flabbergasted. "Chocolatey? Chocolatey? What the hell is that supposed to..."

But Hari was already out the door, grinning widely.

-------

Tara couldn't put her finger on it. She was bothered.

Why doesn't he date?

And why do I not think of him as "available"?

I have been taking him for granted.

Good lord! I haven't told him I am moving!

Why haven't I told him? Why is that so hard?

"Don't you have a call to make?" the voice shook her out of her reverie. Tara looked at her watch, and sure enough, it was time to make a call. She shot Hari a glare.

How did he know it was time for me to make a call?

She dialled the number and listened. Then, she simply said, "Ok," nodded and disconnected the call. As if on cue, Hari picked up his cell and made a call.

Kiran watched Sharanya hang up her phone and immediately excused himself as his own phone rang.

"Why on earth are you drinking hot chocolate? Aren't you man enough for an espresso?"

Not even a hello. "How the hell did you know I am drinking hot chocolate? Are you in here?"

"Actually, I didn't. But I do now."

"She's drinking pink lemonade. What do you say to that?"

"She's a girl. What's your excuse?"

"You're supposed to be asking how my date is going."

"I know you and I know her. I'm sure the date is going just fine."

"If you knew it would go fine, then why did you agree to call?"

"So that you would stop whining."

"Alright, so you had a reason to say you would call, but why did you actually call?"

"Couldn't pass up the opportunity to pull your leg."

The line went dead.

Hari chuckled and shut the phone. Tara, who was mentally filling up the other side of the conversation, was laughing. "You're an insensitive lummox, you know that?"

"So you keep saying."

At the other end, Kiran was apologising. "That was Hari. He's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don't exist."

"Exactly. He's unbelievable."

Laughter. A pause. "That was your escape call, wasn't it?"

"And that was yours, so we're square." Kiran was grinning.

"Ouch. Okay, we're square. Let's shake on that." She proferred a hand.

Kiran shook it, but she was already saying, "So, who are your favourite authors?"

"Hmmm.... J.D. Salinger... Ayn Rand... Aldous Huxley."

"Interesting... in a way, they are all social commentators, but their styles and viewpoints are all unique."

"My turn. I'm told you like poetry. Your favourite poets?"

--------

Tara was gathering up her courage. "Let's go for a walk. Someplace else. I have something to tell you."

Why did he not date?

"Okay. Beach?"

She nodded. "Yes. I need air."

It didn't take them long to arrive. They headed towards the water. "So, what is it?"

"I'm quitting the company. I'll be moving to Bangalore. You know my team here hates me."

"I know. You boss consulted me on your replacement."

He turned around to see that she had stopped, two steps behind.

"You knew?!! And yet you said nothing!"

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to telling me. I thought I'd give you some space."

Tara grit her teeth. Oaf! Lummox! Insensitive, thickheaded fool!

But a small voice in her head asked, Him or me?

------

"Oh my God!" said Kiran, "Look at the time!" Glancing down at his half finished drink, he added a rueful "The late hot chocolate."

Sharanya looked at her equally unfinished lemonade and pushed it away in distaste. "Let's leave. I want to listen to your songs, the ones you wrote yourself. Tara said they were quite good."

"What about dinner? It is rather late."

"We'll order pizza or something."

"Okay... I don't mind. Won't be the first time I stuck to my guitar instead of eating proper food."

-------

With growing panic, Tara realized why it was so hard for her to tell him she was moving. Why she never really thought of him as "available".

"Listen... I'm going to miss you. As irreverent and facetious and... and... an insensitive lummox as you are, I will miss you. This may sound crazy, but I want to ask you something."

"You sure have a strange way of asking me for a favour." A faint smile played on his lips. "Go on."

"Come to Bangalore. In fact, the company I am joining needs a team lead in their Embedded Systems department. You would be perfect for it. You'll get a substantial raise, I'm sure."

Without a break in his stride, he replied, "Okay."

Tara was again stranded two steps behind. Okay, he says. Just like that. And then she realized. He knew I was going to ask. How does he know all these things?

In a flash of insight, she figured out why he never dated.

"Do I have to search for an apartment?" That infuriating smile again.

She knew him well. It was no simple question. That man and his subtleties! This was as close to a proposal as she was going to get from him. Lummox!

My Lummox.

She put her hand around him and leaned on his shoulder, with a contented sigh. "No. Mine is big enough for the two of us."

He put his hand around her waist. They walked, the waves lapping at their feet.

-------

Sharanya was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed. Her feet swayed in beat to the soft strumming of the guitar, and the sound of Kiran's voice.

It feels like...
Early spring rain.
It feels like...
You're drunk on elixir.

Sometimes, love hits you hard,
Like an oncoming train.
Sometimes, love comes softly,
Like a whisper on a zephyr.

X-----X------X

Music and lyrics, where have they gone?

My poetry blog informs me that I haven't written a poem in eleven months.

I've practically stopped listening to music these past two years, in spite of having a free napster account from my university.

I consider the lack of music and lyrics in my life as a symptom of something deeper.

I think I have been drifting in a sailboat, waiting for the wind, and forgetting that I have a motor.

Time to take control of my life, wouldn't you say?

Just Another Kid

I think it was 1998. We had just got ourselves an internet connection, a dialup one of course, broadband was for millionaires in those days. I knew how to type out a URL and browse the site, but I had little clue what to browse. I ended up trying various things on the Yahoo portal at first.

I remember feeling low about something one day that month. Did it have something to do with my studies? I can hardly remember. My life was largely happy in those days.

Thus it was, that in a sulky, depressed mood, I entered the Yahoo chatrooms and sat around looking (and feeling) bored, observing the chatroom without actually participating.

And then it happened.

She: Stephen?
Me: Sorry, you have the wrong person.
She: Oh.... sorry. How are you?
Me: (confused) I'm not Stephen.
She: You already said that. And I said, how are you?
Me: (thinking she was just being polite) Oh... don't bother. I'm just another kid.
She: We all were at one point of time :)

And thus it continued, me trying to explain that she was wasting her time talking to me, she saying something... nothing... everything. She was a 30-something woman in Australia, married with kids. By the end of fifteen minutes when she said goodbye, I realized I'd been expertly pep-talked without even realizing it.

It may sound like nothing, but for a fifteen-year-old who had never before been actually depressed about anything (yes, I really had a nice childhood), it was a lot. I was one of those quiet and shy types in those days, stammering a lot, avoiding conversation where possible. I was low enough in confidence to actually tell someone that I was just another kid. Yes, that little pep talk meant quite a bit to me.

Within a couple of weeks after that incident I realized the general futility of entering public chatrooms and stopped, so I never bumped into that woman again, never had the chance to thank her. But the fact of the matter is that I changed after that. Gradually, but unmistakeably. Gone is the stammer from those days. Gone is the panic when a girl spoke to me (don't smirk). Gone is the lack of self-confidence. In fact, these days I have such a supremely confident air about me that people give me a wide berth. Another thing I don't understand - why do we treat people who are sure of themselves as though they are from Mars?

I never was good at diplomacy. I admire those people who calmly and subtly make people feel better, introduce faith and hope in the direst of situations. While I hold most motivational and self-improvement books and speakers in contempt - like Olive's Dad in Little Miss Sunshine - I acknowledge that there exist a few people who really are good at it. One time when a super-depressed friend said she wanted to kill herself, I slapped her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her so hard I near broke her neck. Effective, actually, but a butcher's cleaver is not often of help in a situation that demands a surgeon's scalpel.

If you ever feel low enough to say, "Oh, don't bother, I'm just another _____", and there are no good motivators around, come to me. I love slapping people.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Indian Bridge comes of age

India stamped its presence on the world bridge scene this week with an excellent show at the 3rd European Open Bridge Championships. The Indian team Texan Aces reached the finals, losing to the French team Bessis 117-91 in a hard fought contest. This is the first time that an Indian team has gone past the quarterfinal stage in a major international championship. If you're wondering why an Indian team would call itself that, it's because the team captain, G. Venkatesh, is nicknamed "Texas" back in sunny California, where he lives now.

It says something about my life when I pick up Hugh Kelsey's Advanced Play at Bridge for casual reading on a train journey, and forget to watch the India - South Africa cricket match but remember to watch the aforementioned bridge final. But I am not alone. My partner for the chennai club scene asseverates that he will join me for our weekly game at the T.Nagar social club even if he has to come straight from his office. My friends who graduated with me from IITM two years ago, now spread across different time zones, still find time for the occasional online game. The Indian Bridge Federation has started conducting a Junior National Bridge Championship every year, in which travel and other expenses for all players are compensated. The IIT Kharagpur bridge team even has a coach, Sumit Mukherjee, who is a member of the Texan Aces team - or at least, they had when I last met them.

It is a sad but true fact that Indian sports fail to get infrastructure unless our performance on the international circuit is good. This throws us in a vicious loop, for unless we have the funds to coach young players, how will we do well? Look at the chess scene in India before and after Viswanathan Anand... happened, for lack of a better word. Today, nobody will dare underestimate an Indian player at an international chess tourney. Bridge needs a similar revolution, but I am confident that it is not far away. Indian teams have been consistently improving in their performance at world championships, and with a little encouragement for the junior players, we will be on par with the best teams in the world pretty soon.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Tomatoes and Onions

I hate them.

That's right, I hate eating tomatoes and onions.

The normal reaction to this is one of disbelief, and in my defense all I can say is that everybody hates some vegetables. Well, the ones I hate are tomatoes and onions. I don't even mind eating bitter gourd. Really!

Of course, having likes and dislikes is something adults cannot afford most of the time (one of the few lessons I have learnt in my admittedly short life thus far), and after eating in a hostel mess for five years and a mixture of my roommates' cooking and my own cooking for another two years, I've learnt to close my nose and swallow anything that pretends to be food. Still, I surprised myself with how well I learned that lesson this week.

See, I went to a friend's house for lunch this weekend, and not knowing my food preferences, the first thing they served me was a tomato-onion-bhath-type thing. Another thing I've learnt in my short existence is manners, so I ate without protest, if a little slower than usual. In the old days I would have either declined or sat picking out every piece of tomato and onion from it before eating.

It was not my imagination - I really ate what would at one time be like climbing Mt. Everest for me, and I didn't gag and I didn't mind it that much. Still, I didn't completely surprise myself, because of something that happened in January.

I had come back from the US after 18 months there and my Mom was careful to serve food I liked. Of course, that didn't stop her from making the usual snide comments on how picky our little prince was when it came to food.

Perhaps it was the tone that made me out to be a spoilt little brat. Perhaps it was the fact that my parents really don't know how far I have come from my high school days - no matter what my Mother like to pretend, she has no idea how much life at IIT changed me. I heard her telling someone the other day that I don't drink coffe. Imagine! Like I was still a teenager!

But I digress. The short of it is that I lost my temper, and told my Mom squarely that I have grown up and I proceeded to prove it by picking up a small onion - raw - and eating it in front of them (taking care not to wince at each bite). You won't believe the deafening silence at the dining table.

My Mom is actually proud of me for that particular demonstration, but I am not so sure it is something to be happy about. To me, this is symbolic of a lot of things wrong in my life. It means that not only am I willing to make sacrifices and compromises on my preferences and principles, I have reached the stage where I actually don't mind doing so. It is not so much the fact that I am giving in that irks me, but the fact that I have come to accept that it needs to be done.

In case you have missed the point, I am not talking talking about tomatoes and onions anymore. I am talking about the mentality that drives people into submission willingly. I am more sympathetic of why women in India don't do more to fight for their rights, having first hand experience of a similar sort. It has to do with society and family and duty and a lot of things I don't want to go into - any Indian would understand the kind of thing I am talking about.

I am not trying to say that I have been repressed or stifled deliberately. In fact, my family has given me every opportunity to do what I like, without placing too many demands on me. I would probably just put it this way: I am coming to understand my duties and responsibilities, which arise by simply being part of a family and a society. And I don't like what I am seeing. I may be a little dense at times but I am not so stupid as to run from responsibility. Or from my family. Or from my country. Even though I can - all I have to do is put my foot down and I can live my life the way I want in the USA and never come back. That's simply not who I am.

I'm sure a good number of people reading this blog understand what I am going through. I would appreciate any advice dropped in the comment box. If I have to summarize this entire post in one sentence, I would say this: I ate a raw onion one day to make a point; I did make my point, but if anybody won a victory that day, it wasn't me.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

"US Return"

This week I was visiting my grandparents in the town of Salem, where I have enough cousins that I won't get bored. One day I went to the video store with one of my cousins to get a couple of movies. As I chatted with him and sifted through the movies, the store owner asked, "Are you a US Return?"

Imagine my surprise! I was quite positive that nothing in our conversation gave away the fact that I'd spent some time in the States. I even checked with my cousin after we left the store if I'd picked up an American accent in these two years, and he said I haven't. In any case I had been speaking in Telugu... er... Telugu mixed with a little English. Okay, a lot of English. But I am positive I don't have an accent.

And then it struck me. I was wearing knee-length shorts. I suspect that in a town the size of Salem, only someone from abroad would dare go out in broad daylight wearing shorts :)

I've watched enough movies and serials in Telugu and Tamil to know the Cardinal Sins of a US Return.

Sin #1: A US Return cannot speak the local languages well. He mixes it with > 50% English.
Verdict: Guilty.

Sin #2: A US Return has a pronounced American accent.
Verdict: Not guilty.

Sin #3: A US Return is (almost by definition) a snob.
Verdict: Hmmm.... possibly guilty :P

Sin #4: A US Return wears shorts almost all the time in this blazing summer.
Verdict: Guilty.

Miscellaneous sins: A US Return guzzles alcohol, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, chews gum, and sleeps with random women.
Verdict: What the...? I've been watching too many Telugu movies....

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Tread carefully...

Some twenty-odd women meeting in my house.

I squeeze in through the mass to pick up a plate and get my lunch.

My family lectures me if I stay aloof, so I eat with them instead of going back to my room and utter polite greetings and "Yes, my health is just super now, thank you" when asked.

I say something about a relative and get shushed because his grandmother is in the room and may have heard me.

One of the women steps out of the house for a few minutes and now the other women start talking about her.

Apparently it is okay to say anything behind someone's back, but not to their face or in front of their relatives.

All talk is loud.

All jokes are facetious.

They think I ought to get married, and my age is still 23.

A circle of women is a nest of vipers. Tread carefully, or don't tread at all.

Cheers
Prashanth.

The Importance of Vocational Education in India

We had some relatives come over in the weekend, from one of those little towns in Andhra Pradesh. Apparently there is a lot of confusion over in AP regarding engineering college admissions because the demand has suddenly outstripped capacity. So, this distant cousin on mine is joining a little-known college in Chennai.

This is the first time I am seeing that guy in my life so I was least bothered by the whole affair. But my uncle sought some kind of confirmation from me that he was doing the right thing, so he told me that his kid is joining the Computer Science and Engineering group and asked me if that is a good field to join.

This may seem perfectly normal and innocent, but it took me by surprise at that time, and although externally I stammered out a "Er... yes, it is the best," internally I was shocked that the basis of choosing his son's department in college was on the popular notion of which group is "good". This is a kid's life we are talking about, and one ought to be making a more informed decision! And then I sighed when I remembered that it wasn't all that different for me either.

Flash back to the year 2000. Things seemd so obvious then... IIT or local college? IIT of course. Mechanical or Chemical or Civil or Ocean engineering? Er, can't I get Computer Science? No? Too bad. Electronics? No? Ok, fine, Mechanical it is. See, the relative demands for the engineering disciplines had left me (and indeed everyone) with the impression that so-and-so group is superior to so-and-so group in terms of scope and jobs and etc. In reality we had little idea of what one actually does in those disciplines, and in any case didn't much bother to match them with our interests. Society says, engineering is better than pure sciences. Society says, CSE is better than EE and ME. Who are we lowly mortals to question the collective wisdom of Society? And how can we be so selfish as to think about our own interests when we have our Duty to Family and Society?

Wel, alright, it wasn't as bad as I am making it out to be, but it is true that I really had no idea what I was doing when I was ticking out my department preferences at the IIT-JEE counselling. I had some vague thoughts of getting into CSE because I liked computers, but then I couldn't be in an IIT. The "best" group I could get at IIT Madras was the dual degree in mechanical engineering, so I took it. Nobody, not even my brother, had bothered to give me any real counselling and tell me what was involved in taking a particular engineering major. For instance, I knew that Civil engineers planned cities, but it never occurred to me that planning road networks would involve discrete event simulation. Not that I knew what discrete event simulation was, but the point is, everybody assumed I wouldn't understand. So how am I supposed to make an informed decision if I don't understand? Why, follow the crowd!

The truth is that schools these days are so fixated upon their students getting good marks that they don't think beyond that. In spite of being in one of the best schools in the state, I received no vocational education. Having landed in Mechanical engineering, I realized that I had neither the interest nor the aptitude for it. Chemical or Civil or Ocean engineering were at least equally good choices for me, and I realized that if I had to learn electrical engineering in order to learn electronics, I would have died, so much did I hate my electrical technology courses. I managed to save my career by carefully choosing my minor stream, and jumping master's specializations from product design to intelligent manufacturing. I had finally been able to make informed decisions, and both decisions worked out splendidly for me. I had saved not just my career, but my life.

I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd got a better rank and ended up in the bachelor's program instead of the dual degree one. The Hand of Fate has given me second chances thus far, and I'm not the type to throw them away.

Flash forward to the present. The next question that my uncle asked me was, "Is that a new laptop that I saw in your room?" I frowned, "I don't have a laptop here," and my cousin interjected in exasperation, "That's called a desktop, Dad, not a laptop!"

Something about that exchange was so familiar, so natural, that I can't help but smile whenever I think about it. Perhaps kids these days are not as stupid as we were at their age. Parents will be parents, out of touch with technology and unable to guide their children at the crucial phases. But the youngsters today have the media and the internet, and are far better informed than we were. This kid had insisted on joining the CSE department even at the cost of landing in an unknown college, so he might actually know what he's doing. Might.

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Blowing off some steam

That last post was an uncharacteristic rant from me... I mean, hardly 3-4 of my 150-odd blog posts are rant-type. Fortunately for me, it seems to have succeeded... after re-reading a few of my favourite Feist and Asimov novels, playing a few rounds of bridge, and ranting about a few of the things that are wrong about this world, I feel normal again! I am frustu-free and raring to do stuff and enjoy this vacation. If only more of my friends lived in Chennai, or my doctor gave me a clean bill of health for traveling! Now I'll have to settle for terrorizing the local bridge clubs... and perhaps ransack a few bookstores...

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Yellow Journalism, Green Cricket

In the old days, there were only two 24-hour news channels: BBC and CNN, and since they rarely concerned themselves with news in India, it was as good as not having a news channel at all. Today, I browse through NDTV, Headlines Today, DD News (whose standard is surprisingly right up there with the others), Times Now, etc. Note, I said etcetera. There are simply too many news channels, and they are all jostling for eyeballs and wondering how to fill their time slots when nothing newsworthy is going on.

This is probably the reason why we are seeing irresponsible yellow journalism in this time and age. I've had exposure to amateur journalism in school and college - enough to experience and understand first hand the importance of responsible journalism. Hence, I was shocked to see a segment on Headlines Today, a "sting operation" called "Operation Clean Bowled". Essentially, the reporter spoke to all the four zonal selectors with a hidden camera, asking questions about the relations between the Indian players and the coach, as well as among themselves.

First, the selectors have a right to be told that they are being filmed. They knew they were being interviewed, not filmed.

Second, anything the selectors have to say about "factions" within the cricket team and schisms between the coach and some players amounts to hearsay as they are not in the team themselves.

Third, Bhupinder Singh was the only selector who was elucidating on these things, and he seemed to be too drunk and too peeved to be taken seriously. The words of the other selectors were clearly being exaggerated and twisted out of context.

Fourth, any such opinion that is deleterious to the reputation of another person cannot be reported without their reply or rebuttal. The Headlines Today team did not even bother to ask any player of the Indian team what they thought of these comments, before broadcasting them.

It is clear to me that the channel had already decided to be as sensationalist as possible, without worrying about little things like truth, ethics or the feelings of the cricket-loving populace. In my opinion, there is only one thing that absolves their effort partially: that the Indian cricket team has been doing so badly that it had such slander coming.

I was in the US when the world cup was being played, and I didn't get a chance to watch it. However, I have watched the Bangladesh tour thus far and I am simply amazed at the drop in standard of the team. For example, one of the first deliveries I saw in the first match was a nicked delivery that flew between Dhoni and Sehwag at first slip. Both players stood rock still, expecting the other to dive for the ball. Admittedly, it was a half chance no matter who dived for it: but the point is, they should both have dived for it. The first slip stands a foot or two behind the keeper and they are not going to collide anyway. There were several more instances of such unprofessional fielding on that day, and if it weren't for some intelligent batting by Dhoni and Karthik, as well as some poor fielding by the Bangladeshi side, we would have lost the game. In fact, the Indian team is winning only because the Bangladeshis are a weak and inexperienced side. Against any other decent opposition, we would come a cropper playing this level of cricket.

Think about it. Karthik needs to work on that pull shot. Yuvraj seems to be having a technical problem with his high backlift, giving tame catches whenever the ball stops on the pitch a little bit. Sehwag still doesn't know the meaning of rotating the strike. Jaffer cannot even get off the mark. Even Sachin got out today playing a cross-batted pseudo-sweep slog off a delivery that was begging to be hit straight down the ground. It is ironic that Dhoni's ice-hockey style batting has been more effective than anyone else's.

Since the superb performance by the Indian team in the 2003 world cup, this is the first time that I am really watching a full series, and the contrast is jarring. There is a serious drop in the standard of the game in all three areas: batting, fielding and bowling in that order of severity. The Indian team really needs to get its act together before the England Tour.

Cheers
Prashanth.

"The Folder"

Yesterday, my Mom made an innocuous request that I hear every other year: get rid of all that old junk lying around, I need space for my work files.

So, she brought over some ancient files and folders that had somehow survived similar purgings over the years. I still hang to them for sentimental reasons. Some of the things that she dug up:

- History assignments that I'd put a lot of effort into. Looking at them now, I actually wonder if I am less hard working than I was before!
- Stuff I'd done in art and craft class. I was really awful at those, why the heck did I keep them?
- A bunch of stuff I'd written in English class: prose analysis, essays, creative writing, etc.
- A sheet of paper in which each of my classmates had written a sentence on what they thought about me! Great fun reading that after all these years!
- The original drafts of some of my poems that now live on in my poetry blog.
- The Folder.

Let me tell you a little about The Folder. It belonged to a girl I had a crush on, back in high school. Essentially, I stole it and kept it as a keepsake because she changed schools after only one year in my class :). I did find out where she was a couple of years ago, and gave her a call, reminiscing about the good ol' days. I even told her about my crush, and The Folder, and we had a good laugh about it!

But as my Mom picked up the empty folder, I told her I'd kept it for sentimental reasons but she could throw it out now. Unfortunately, she opened it, and saw the bold red letters announcing "This folder is the property of R_____." So I told her - about the girl I "liked" at that time and that she is doing her Ph.D at so-and-so university now. And promptly my Mom asked, "Is she a Brahmin?" Moms will be Moms! This was nearly as bad as when I went to visit our friend Alraqs and when I came back, my Mom asked me if she was Hindu or Muslim, and what her mother tongue was. Why do parents need to know the background of every girl a guy names "friend"? So little trust these days :D !

Still, I wonder, why I am okay with throwing away stuff that I'd been saving for so long because of sentimental reasons. I told my Mom to throw away everything, but she saved the poems and a few essays, as well as my classmates' comments. I guess I'm in bury-the-past mode now. Somehow, throwing away The Folder is symbolic to me of moving on and thinking about the future rather than the past. It is clear to me that old hurts are long healed, leaving only pleasant memories in their stead. That gives me hope that the same can happen with more recent hurts... and that is good enough for now. It means there is something to look forward to.

Cheers!
Prashanth.

Favourite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Characters

I saw this post on Sakshi's blog and decided to tag myself. Unlike Sakshi, I am talking about well-crafted characters, rather than ones to lust after :) and I am restricting myself to Sci-Fi and Fantasy genres. This is only because I want you guys to read these books - there do exist non-scifi, non-fantasy characters I like, I swear!

Nakor, from Raymond Feist's Midkemia novels. This guy appears to be a harmless prankster and trickster at first glance, with his perpetual grin and priestly background. Of course, once you are at the receiving end of his martial arts or magic spells, you would think differently. Even then, he would be the first one to tell you, there is no such thing as magic.

R. Daneel Olivaw, spanning Isaac Asimov's Elijah Baley novels all the way upto the end of the Foundation series. Why the heck am I including his initial? That's because the R stands for Robot. That's right, Daneel starts off as a robot police detective on Planet Aurora, but his friend R. Giskard's dying "gift" leaves him with the power to read and influence minds, and the responsibility to save mankind from itself.

Drizzt Do'Urden, Robert A. Salvatore's character who made dark elves the favourite RPG race overnight. Drizzt is a renegade dark elf, spurning a society in which deceit and murder are routine in a complex and never-ending game of politics. Escaping from their underground city, he arrives at the surface to find himself shunned and feared simply because of the reputation of his race. Drizzt's prowess with dual scimitars and his duels with the assassin Artemis Entreri are the stuff of legend in fantasy circles.

Mat Cauthon, the "luckiest" man in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Mat survives an episode with a cursed dagger, only to find that he's been left with an unexpected side effect: the Devil's Luck. In all purely random circumstances, he finds himself getting the "best" possible result. Try explaining to your gambling friends why your dice always land as sixes! Jordan excels in crafting Mat's destiny to convert Rand al Thor's implacable enemy into an ally to stand against Shai'tan at Tarmon Gai'don, the final battle.

Ganoes Paran, a young nobleman in Steven Erikson's series, the Malazan Book of the Fallen. Ganoes has the misfortune of being a nobleman commanding an army squadron in times when nobleman aren't exactly popular among the common man, or the army. Finding himself the pawn of the Gods as much as the pawn of the Empress, he finds himself attacked and saved by men, Gods, Ascendants, hounds, demons and more as he becomes embroiled in a war in which the order of the Gods itself can be upset. Since he defies all attempts at manipulation by the Gods, they agree to name him the neutral "Master of the Deck" - and suddenly, Ganoes is the one manipulating the Gods.

Raistlin Majere, from the Dragonlance novels written by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Never in any of the books will you be able to figure out if this powerful magician is good or evil! One of the most compelling and mysterious characters ever created, here is a man who has a love-and-hate relationship with every other character in the series. The only thing they can agree upon about him is that he is selfish. And yet, the only thing he wants from a dragon's hoard is a measly little spellbook. Does that mean he isn't selfish? Actually, no!

Danaerys Targaryen, an exiled princess in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. Finding herself across the ocean from the kingdom of which she is the rightful heir, she finds herself routinely tortured by her mad brother and then sold to a barbarian king as a wife. How she extricates herself from that position into one in which she leads a massive army and commands dragons in her quest to reclaim her throne makes a fascinating read.

Fitzchivalry Farseer, a truly complex and compelling character created by Robin Hobb (or Megan Lindholm or Margaret Ogden). Fitz is the bastard son of a prince, and as such the King is faced with one of two decisions: kill the child, or use him. He chooses the latter, luckily for Fitz... or is it unlucky? For Fitz finds himself being trained as an Assassin, and finds himself an unlikely hero in a strange war against a stranger enemy.

Vanyel Ashkevron, the Last Herald Mage in Mercedes Lackey novels. Vanyel is a proud Herald of Valdemar, chosen by spirits as a Guardian of the Kingdom. He is but an average student, until a tragic accident leaves his lover killed and himself... well, his magic channels get blasted open, making him potentially the most powerful Herald on Valdemar - if he can learn to control his now runaway gifts.

Salvor Hardin, from Isaac Asimov's Foundation series. My favourite quote belongs to him: "Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right." If that appears to be a strange philosophy for a compassionate-type guy like me to have, read the book! Hardin rises to power as the Mayor of the Planet Terminus, whose ostensible purpose is to save all knowledge before the Galactic Empire collapses. Hardin, in a flash of insight, understands the legendary Hari Seldon's plan to re-establish order in the Galaxy - unfortunately, he has to figure out the exact plan for himself, as Seldon says that the act of revealing the probable future straight away invalidates all calculations!

I've provided Wikipedia links where possible, but if you want to know more about anyone, just ask! Or, even better, read the books!

Cheers,
Prashanth.

Global Warming Facts - Part 1

(I'm referring to news articles rather than scientific articles, and avoiding technical discussions in order to keep this article readable to everybody.)

If I told you that the Ganges and the Brahmaputra will both dry up by the year 2035, how hard would you laugh at me? Now, what if it was the world's leading scientific authority on climate change that told you?

I'm sure every one of us knows at least a little bit about global warming: that it is primarily caused by the greenhouse effect, and that greenhouse gas levels in the atmosphere have been rising because of industrialization and deforestation, that rising global temperatures will melt polar ice caps thus causing sea levels to rise, and so on. However, until recently, we've all been led to believe that we have a century or two to cut greenhouse emissions and quell the problem. The key phrase there is "until recently", because climate science has now progressed enough to tell us how bad the situation really is.

How bad will India be hit?
The first sentence of this article must have sent alarm bells ringing in your head. But a little thought will tell you why the Ganges will dry up, if not when: the Ganges, and indeed all perennial rivers in North India, are fed by glaciers in the Himalayas. As global temperatures rise, the glaciers receive snow later and start melting earlier, causing them to gradually fall back to the colder regions. This news article [1] in the Hindu has a detailed discussion about the effect of global warming on glaciers. The world's leading authority on climate change, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), believes that all North Indian rivers will turn seasonal, and ultimately dry up by the year 2035 itself if global warming remains unchecked.

But there's more. Another news article [2] confirms our worst fears: inundation of low-lying areas along the coastline owing to rising sea levels; drastic increase in heat-related deaths; dropping water tables; decreased crop productivity are some of the horrors outlined for us. Falling crop productivity due to the change in the length of the seasons is of particular concern, because there is an acute shortage of arable land in our country. With the population still growing rapidly, and crop productivity dropping, combined with the fact that we are already facing a grain shortage this year and have been forced to procure from abroad, the situation appears dire.

Is it fair? The major contributors to the greenhouse effect thus far are the developed nations, and even on an absolute basis (let us not even go into a per-capita basis), India's contribution to global warming is very little. And yet, we will be among the first to suffer its effects, as the change in climate will decrease crop productivity near the equator but actually increase it in the temperate regions. Effectively, the third world has been offered a very raw deal: suffer for something you didn't do, and still bear the yoke of cutting emissions because, frankly, at this point our planet needs all the help it can get.

How high is safe?
Let us leave India's concerns aside for now, take a step back and look at the global picture. Global temperatures have risen about 0.6 C on an average in the past century. There is a worldwide consensus among scientific circles that the adverse effects of global warming will probably be manageable for a rise in temperature upto 2 C, but beyond that, melting ice caps, unbalanced ecosystems, drastically reduced crop yields, etc. will cause worldwide disaster of monstrous proportions. If I haven't painted the picture clearly enough for you, read this article [3] and this article [4] detailing exactly what countries like Canada and Australia can expect in terms of "disaster".

But, is this where you heave a sigh and think, if it takes a century for the temperature to rise 0.6 C, then we have plenty of time to remedy the situation before the rise reaches 2 C? Wrong. You see, there is a lag between the rise in greenhouse gases and the rise in global temperatures. Scientists give the analogy of heating a metal plate directly, and then indirectly, by placing a metal block between the plate and the heat source: when you place the block, it takes some time before an increase in temperature at the heat source affects the plate; at the same time, if the heat source stabilizes or drops in temperature, the plate will continue to increase in temperature for a while before stabilizing or dropping. Thus, the increase in temperature now is a direct effect of rising greenhouse gas levels sometime in the 20th century. We are yet to reap the effect of the carbon dioxide we are currently dumping into the atmosphere! And the fact is, the amount of greenhouse gases that have been going into the atmosphere has been steadily accelerating over the past century.

So, where should we hold greenhouse gas levels in order to hold the global temperature rise to 2 C? The answer cannot be explained in one sentence, because there is some statistics involved. We cannot accurately predict the temperature rise from carbon dioxide levels yet; we have to talk in terms of probabilities. A recent study by Meinshausen et al. [5] gives some startling numbers. This is actually explained in much simpler terms in this press article [6]. The gist of it is that, we are already past the safe limit! You see, the current level of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere stands at 459 ppm of carbon dioxide equivalent (the actual concentration of CO2, corrected to include the effect of other greenhouse gases). According to the Meinshausen study, if atmospheric greenhouse concentrations are maintained at 450 ppm, the probability of global temperature rise crossing 2 C reaches unacceptable levels (> 50%). The current EU target is 550 ppm - at that level, we will be looking at a rise of around 3 C! In other words, emissions across the world should already be decreasing, not increasing at an accelerating pace. Countries around the world should be spending a significant percentage of their GDPs to save the planet, but everyone seems reluctant to move.

Panels and Reports
I had mentioned the IPCC earlier. The IPCC was formed by the UN and has actually been around since 1988. Over the years, it has established itself as the world's leading authority on climate change. It publishes its findings periodically, the assessment reports published this year being the fourth set, and the most controversial one because it reads more like a disaster movie script than a scientific report. Actually, there had been protests over the previous report that the IPCC is being alarmist, and the UK government ordered an independent study be made (a committee was appointed, led by Nicholas Stern), and its findings were released at the end of October 2006. The Stern Review actually reported that the IPCC had understated the situation in the third assessment report. You see, climate science is far from exact, and the IPCC tends to err on the conservative side. There are already publications that say that the IPCC has been conservative even in the fourth report - read this news article [7].

Perhaps the most important thing that the fourth assessment report has accomplished is that it has finally laid to rest claims that global warming is a myth. Yes, until a few years ago, there wasn't even a global consensus on whether global warming is the fault of man, because the waters got muddied by studies that showed that greenhouse gases, while absorbing heat radiated by the earth, happened to reflect sunlight coming in, thus reducing temperatures. Further, it is believed that geologically, the world is headed towards an ice age. Increasing global temperatures were attributed to periodic properties of the Sun! Now, at last, all these speculations have been laid to rest, and IPCC has stated that there is a 90% probability that the phenomenon of increasing global temperatures is anthropogenic (caused by man), and primarily because of greenhouse gases - what we've suspected all along. India, too, has finally woken up to the threat, and has set up a panel [Citation needed] to investigate the specific effects of global warming on India over the next few decades, and what remedial measures are feasible. The panel is to be headed by Mr. Pachauri himself, the current head of the IPCC.

To be continued...
In the next part: The Kyoto Protocol, Emissions Trading, Extreme weather events, Bush-bashing, cows, bees and more!

References

[1] The Great Himalayan Meltdown
[2] Climate Change Will Devastate India
[3] Dire consequences if global warming exceeds 2 degrees says IUCN release
[4] Two degrees of separation from disaster
[5] M. Meinshausen "What Does a 2 C Target Mean for Greenhouse Gas Concentrations? A Brief Analysis Based on Multi-Gas Emission Pathways and Several Climate Sensitivity Uncertainty Estimates." in H. Schellnhuber, et al., eds. Avoiding Dangerous Climate Change (Cambridge University Press, New York, 2006)
[6] The rich world's policy on greenhouse gas now seems clear: millions will die
[7] Some scientists protest draft of warming report