Hark! The sloth speaks, and it has become a full time cynic

As almost always, I write to avoid work just a little bit longer. After what can only be described as my most testing semester after coming to the US (which is not saying much since it is only the second), the summer vacations started with the unexpected discovery that I have the next four months to myself (and that was more than a month back), in no useful way I add. And that brings me back to the idea of work. I find my work to be most interesting but blame it on the summer, I do not feel like working. I will not dwell on that topic any further. It is boring. I am boring. I believe I belie notions. I believe that I am interesting. I believe I fool myself. I believe I should be committed.

There I think I have satisfied all my ego for one post. I have decided to stop trying to be smart and dazzle people with my literary skills. Fuck that. I have suffered a loss. I have lost the will to write. This draft goes along with the several others that I have started and yet never went beyond a measly paragraph. But I hear brevity is the new thing. Intelligence I was told long back is measured in silence and brevity. Well so is ineptness. But I suppose we make believe whatever sounds right to us. Whatever that makes us look good. So here is what I have done; picked up all my previous drafts and made one big one out of it. Brevity is not my style. But who really cares.

Changes

After a weekend which can only be described as the perfect getaway at home, I found myself awaiting a new week, with fresh deadlines and mundane details of grad life. It only seemed prudent to prepare myself and work a little, to rub away that guilt of wiling time. It was at this point that I was distracted by the ever so interesting concept of youtube and ran across the video by Them clones. Very few of few would know about this band from Delhi which has been maturing into quite an act. Good music is one thing but to have a music video, in my opinion is quite unprecedented.



The video as you might be able to see is not much of a technical breakthrough but at least it qualifies as one. This got me thinking about the recent developments I had witnessed in the Indian independent music scene. I remember writing about the pretentious rock culture of Delhi in the fledgling rock circuit of India. I think I stand corrected. I am sure the pretension is still laid on thick but the number of outlets amazes me no end. My claims being backed by the discovery of the Indian Rock Radio Station "RadioVerve". It is online of course, for God only knows, how many people would care for the death riffs to air over our FM waves. It is start nevertheless. A start which makes me rather hopeful because here I find a bunch of the stereotyped Indian software pros, quitting their jobs and working on popularizing the Indian music scene. The Indian bands still claim the lack of production values however I find that to be not that big a deal. But then I am no expert.

All in all, I believe things are definitely looking up and the quality of music is as good as always. I do dream of playing some of the stuff from back home on WRPI, the local radio station, but then that is just a dream. All I can hope for now is that I catch all the good stuff coming out of the Indian music scene.

Who is Kevin Bacon ?

One of my professors is fond of academic genealogy. He talks about his academic father (his PhD adviser) , his academic grandfather (who by simple logic would be his PhD adviser's PhD adviser), and all other possible relations, brothers, uncles, nephews etc. Two things intrigued me immediately. First, the absence of any aunts or sisters or mothers. Talk about a patriarchal society. And second, the tremendous geek pride palpable in every syllable. Of course, if I were to say that Einstein is my academic father, ok, grandfather or great grandfather come to that, I would stow away that nugget of information and take it to my deathbed. But in no case would I publicize this 'fact'. There are some things that a man can just not be proud of. But I thank God that such responsibility has not befallen me.

So after this class I set off on my own little hunt, trying to learn more about this curious hobby among the 'doctor kind'. I was surprised to learn about another form of this genealogy in the so called Erdős number. Paul Erdős was the quintessential and perhaps the only itinerant researcher. Extremley brilliant and eccentric to an equal degree. Erdős number of an author is a way of describing the collaborative distance between an author an Erdős. The following is an excerpt from wikipedia about the same.

"Erdős wrote around 1500 mathematical articles in his lifetime, mostly co-written. He had 509 direct collaborators[1]; these are the people with Erdős number 1. The people who have collaborated with them (but not with Erdős himself) have an Erdős number of 2 (6,984 people), those who have collaborated with people who have an Erdős number of 2 (but not with Erdős or anyone with an Erdős number of 1) have an Erdős number of 3, and so forth..."

I understand the concept, but in the process I also came across several variants of the Erdős number, the most hilarious of which was the Erdős-Bacon number. When I came across this page I was laughing to the point of stomach cramps. The reason being that the individual's Erdős–Bacon number is the sum of one's Erdős number—which measures the "collaborative distance" in authoring mathematical papers between that individual and Hungarian mathematician Paul Erdős—and one's Bacon number—which represents the number of links, through roles in films, by which the individual is separated from actor Kevin Bacon.

Now who the fuck chose Kevin Bacon !!! As far as I know the guy was a star. Not a big star. Starred in a number of B grade movies and personally irritates me because he doesn't have any lips. If you don't believe me, look up some of his movies. As even a small bit of common sense would suggest, there would be very few number of people who would have a finite Erdős Bacon number. I get the impression that this is the mind work of a really bored set of indviduals. Anyway, who gives a damn.

My life this week(s)

It has been more than a couple of weeks since my last post. And that proves it. I cannot adhere to any skedule (That is an intentional spelling mistake, just to impress on you folks how seriously I am trying to americanise myself, so that these guys get what I say) no matter how harmless it may be. But then again, I have not posted anything not because I have stopped writing. I somehow managed to shift my focus from prose to verse. And now that I have lost the gift of rhyme and metaphors I do not think I should not impose my exceedingly boring collection of words on my readers (that is the two of you). I think another reason is that the poetry was so scribble-on-the-wooden-beam-with-a-knife-and-hang-myself depressing that people started calling me up and looking for me on messengers if I didn't make contact because of my busy skedule. Its funny I come up with the sweetest, most pretentious and many times terribly cliched metaphors for the most boring, saddest things in anybodys life. So I have taken a vow, that my next post there would be a happy one. I think that blog is going to be dormant for a few months to come.

Very recently I was informed how the name of this blog is a misnomer. How can this be the 'Realms of anonymity' if there is a profile here describing me and my useless interests in some sketchy detail. I guess I chose that name because I like using big words, usually the ones that don't require me to look up a dictionary. So with the recent relocation I realise that I have found a new meaning to this name. From now on I shall try and post my cutural learnings from the USA (I apologise for the blatant reference to the new movie, however the reason will become clear subsequently).

Since my last post, a few things have changed. Winters have shifted up a gear. It literally hurts to smoke outside now. Something white falls from the sky from time to time. I managed to hook up the HDD from my computer at home. I bought myself a nice study lamp, a cozy comforter and a high-speed internet connection. You see, I am a man with simple needs. With all these things arranged in my prison-cell-sized room, I find myself all set for the winters. Let the hibernaton begin. But then I suddenly realize that I have forgotten one last thing. An ash-tray. I think I it should go up on the shopping list. I think I am going to have a very comfortable winter. Which reminds me, shopping for clothes is no longer an exercise in agony. It seems I am the average size here. Back in Delhi, I used to cringe at the thought. The salesman with the plastic smile would return with the same answer, "Sir, aapka size nahin hai yahaan." After all these years I had perfected my art of procrastinating the activity called shopping. My personal best; I have worn a pair of jeans for a preiod of 5 years and when they had worn out almost to the knees, I chopped off the legs and wore a bit longer. Anyways, as I was saying, here I am the average size. Its too good to be true.

I have some great news. No its really awesome news. I saw a movie. Well, I saw a movie at a hall. A culture that I had drifted so far away from that I had begun to suspect if it was ever around. Anyways, I have made contact, once again and it feels good. The halls here are not much different from the ones back home, except obviously they are the first to screen any movie. The movie I saw was Borat. I must say it was a fantastic debut for me. I would not want to discuss the jokes here as I know you will not be interested and also I believe you should watch it for yourself.

On the music front, the tug of war between, blues and progressive continues. I think I have this mental block which stops me from listening to it all the time. It makes feel too old. I have not maded many new discoveries these last two weeks I am afraid. But yes there are a few albums which deserve a worthy mention. they are not famous bands but have a few songs which are worth putting on a music-box. Played continuously.

Albums/Bands of the weeks

1. Buena Vista Social Club - Special mention - 'Chan Chan'
2. OST - Amelie
3. Notre Dam de Paris - The musical
4. Dave Matthews Band - Everyday
5. Keane


P.S. : This post sounds like some kind of news report 'My life this week'. I am too tired to make changes.

Lateral thinking

And as I had promised myself, I am back with the hope to make this weekly post a habit. Anyways, its been getting busy. Tests and assignments come together without any obvious respect for each other and even less for me. But that's what its about I suppose. And through all this, I have managed to listen to a find a new set of bands. It can be better described as a theme, a mood for the week.

So here I am at the end of the week, looking at a potentially busy schedule, when this thought come to mind (I think its more to do with the fact that I was listening to 'Maximum Pearl Jam' while at it). What after the Phd? What after the research RnD blah work that I am supposed to do after the Phd? I have a deep seated affection for music. So much so that it would be an insult to call it affection. So henceforth I'll refer to it as 'thing', something a bit more derogatory but vague nevertheless. So here I am, perusing a PDF on camera calibration that I decide that, when I am 50 I'd like to own a record label. (No, I haven't decided a name for it...yet...but by the end of this assignment for sure). The reason is, while I love music so much, I am relatively retarded when it comes to playing instruments (which I decided after a couple of abortive attempts at learning them) and in public interest have decided not to sing (actually I am not sure, there could even be a law in the US that gives the cops the right to jail bad singers...I don't want to take chances). That leaves me with producing music. I am good at that. I comment and criticize, but never overbearing let me add.

So why a record label, I don't know, perhaps because, it gives me sufficient say in the production and I am the king. Its not going to be a big label mind you. Just a label that gives a break to new bands with a good sound and good ideas. It would be absolutely THE thing to do for me. I could perhaps rope in a few of my bigshot friends to help me out. It will be absolutely fantabulous. The thought of it is refreshing, something nice to look forward to. But for the time being I think I have dreamed enough. I have paved enough road to last me till the next assignment. I should really be getting back to work.

I think they call it the butterfly effect. If I don't work now, I'll screw up my chances of getting a good job, which affects my chance of earning the big bucks without which I will not have my label. So for the sake of my would be label...full steam ahead...camera calibration...Sophisticated crap.

Bands/Artists of the week

Starsailor
The Fray
The sounds
The Dandy Warhols
Anoushka Shankar
Deep Forest
Vanessa Mae

To new places and unsettling times

I am a born cribber or so people say. I must confess that most of the time my rants are more of an effort to make conversation but then again, I can make no excuse in this regard. I do realise that this blog has been left ignored for a long time and I suppose an explanation is warranted. hmmm..i have finally managed to get myself, half way across the world to the US. While that is something that I always wanted to do, I finally realise the seriousness of my decision and as I, rather, all of us grow older, we realise the importance of making the right choice. Anyways as things stand, I am now a commited PhD student (the seriousness of which is heavy on my mind). But I suppose there is some degree of satisfaction in knowing what I'll be doing for the next five years. I am looking at a life of certainity and security, hopefully.

Allow me to tell you a little bit about my alma mater (if I may) for the coming years. Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (the spelling of which is only a week old addition to my dictionary) or for simplicity's sake, RPI is a damn old school. It is almost two hundred years old. But for a school that old its really small. I don't really mind that, in fact its nice to have a small university. It makes for a nice short walk usually. So here I am, at a small school perched on top of a hill overlooking the Hudson. It is a really beautiful place. The winters however, are a killer it seems. I have not yet seen one, but I have told of scary stories. Lets see. They say good things happen to those who wait...I am waiting. When I was coming here, I was told that it'll be a bit difficult for people coming from cities to adjust, I did not make a big deal of it. But I would say my rants have grown exponentially over the past to months. They will soon subside as I resign to the place and accept the fact and start enjoying life.

The good thing about not having much to do around here however is that, I am growing adventurous. I joined the first dance classes in my life. So yours truly is now officially learning the Argentine Tango. Its getting hard but I am getting there. I think this has been a rather disjoint account. I blame it on the months in between when I feel, have lost all touch with writing. But I'll get back on track and try and keep up a lively account.

Till then, adios amigos.

PS : It is an interesting coincidence however that I am putting this up exactly two months after landing here.

The lines from yore

Well what better way to make a return to this space than by posting depressing lines written when all self esteem is kicked out...personally...I can think of plenty...but I want to put them out there. So with a promise that from now on I will write bright and sunny words, I present to you...

Realization

Look at me
and can't you see,
I am not the guy
i used to be.
I am crushed
this ain't me
Life's been a mess
ever since i found me.

*************************************************************************************

Hmmm...this is a low point

I stare at the sun,the lonely sun,
The sun to share my lonliness.
I stare at the sun,the radiant sun,
in the sun i found my hapiness.
I stare at the beautiful people,
The beauty that isn't mine
I stare at myself,
in ignominy of the incongruous.

*************************************************************************************

Death foretold

For years I have heard
People come and people go
Some i knew, some i didn't
dead are those who're there no more

Friends of mine who went away
Went off suddenly through the black
Been long years since they went
Dead are those who don't come back

I walk around calling
names were many,
But no replies did i get, I wonder
dead are those who don't answer

For years I've been alone
A long time ago i crept
Left my friends, left my own
is it just me, or am I dead?

Note: Death comes to those who are lucky. Others are just happy to exist and lead a monotonous, purposeless existence. So death is not an end, its just salvation.

Does Smoking Help Weight Loss?

Evidence seems to suggest that smoking cigarettes causes an increase in metabolic rate. Smoking may also suppress appetite.

However, the catastrophic health effects of smoking are far greater than the effects of obesity.

In addition, some health and weight studies show that weight loss among dieters who smoke cigarettes is less than among non-smokers.

Bottom line: if you're tempted to smoke in order to lose weight, DON'T!!

_________________________________________

The above note is a result of a conversation I had recently with a friend of mine about my smoking habits. I have been (with due respect to my self esteem) been big-boned since I was, say born....naah, just kidding, well at least for the past ten years. Now smoking has become a habit only over the last couple of years. My reasons, while obscured in ambiguties, cannot be listed. I do get the feeling however, that smoking does help reduce your food intake. It might be helping me, or maybe not. Self-realization in such matters is awfully dim. I would however repeat that, smoking to lose weight is definitely not worth it, but if you are losing weight because you smoke, maybe its all right.

By the way, you have to really that bored to google for 'weight loss smoking'.

Attendance

Aah well! This is just a post to put on record that I have survived through the last 3 months. After those rather depressing messages, I would not be surprised if anybody thought I had killed myself. Well, let me stop pretending that people actually find out about my existence through this blog and get back to work. Hope to make an appearance in a month time .... till then, adios amigos!

For heavens sake...

I have thought of this space as being sacrosanct, and to find it spammed .... I cannot do much but kick and scream. &*%$@#$##$$!!!!!

The me I lost

I have been trying to write myself a statement of purpose. There is a lot of free advice on the net, some helpful, some incomprehensible and few downright outrageous. One of the former stated '...do not try the what I did with my life approach...'. I was annoyed in a way cause it blew off my last 15 attempts. But it did hit me hard 'cause looking back at the last 6-7 years I had realised a terrible truth, all I could see was a flurry of confused decisions and an existence in monotonous academics. I cannot really place a finger on the reason, but I can blame a number of things in utter disgust. Mostly, my single-minded approach to success. I was brought up to believe that life is not easy, life does not deal easy hands and more succintly, you make your own life.

When I got into engineering I thought that I had it sorted. It was time to put up my legs and take a break. I enjoyed this time I had over the past 3 years the best I could, trying to settle into this new mould, one which gave me a lot more room for myself. Living alone was perhaps the best part of it all. If anybody ever asks me the importance of hostel life I would say it puts people in the world. We step out of our secure shells and become part of a common existence. It can take many forms from a realisation of independence and the concomitant duties to the realisation of the lives that simply put, are not your own. It is in these experiences that I saw the things I had missed.

I met many people, some like me and some vastly different. All of us were at the same point in life. I had no other option but to believe that I picked the shorter straw. If people can have fun, adopt a nonchalant attitude to life and its so called struggles and still come out on top, have I been foolish in looking past all the enjoyment in living? It could just be dumb luck but whatever the case I cannot ignore the truth, I chose to grow up faster. It was my choice and now I feel like I have lost time, like those chaps who go to stars faraway.

But the quintessential question is, has my approach worked? Have I brought myself to succeed? And the answer unfortunately is that there is no success. All we have are short term goals and solutions ending in compromise. The fact is life is not about the carrot on the stick, it is about the neverending struggle to reach it.

The clouds of consciousness

During my stay in London probably the biggest luxury was the easy access to branded smokes. On one of my last cigarette I decided to write down my thought process.

A deep breath and I opened my eyes. The pungent fumes from my last Davidoff blew back with the cold moist air. The same that floats close to ground during the wet English summer. And I pull the laptop closer and begin.

For me, nicotine has been the ultimate stimulant. My mind races, breaches frontiers and commends ideas that are shot down the moment I hit reality. Throughout these trips I have had several useful insights, like the need felt by every beautiful person to dress up and conversely for every self-depracating individual to mock oneself in disgust. But all this while there has been one persistent thought. And it is time that I record these minutes of unrestrained deliberation.

A time comes in every no-fun idiot's life when he realises the need for company. In India for a majority, that of the opposite sex. This has also been a part of the last three years. A never ending debate on the need for a partner. But at this point my mature conscience steps in and questions the need for such an arrangement. The practical opinion being that now is too early to be looking for company, what purpose will it serve? These are questions that I cannot answer. These are matters that I might not really comprehend without experiencing them at least once. But as my brother once put it "Every man wants to be a casanova". That is perhaps the truth. It is only this yearning to make an impression on the opposite sex that makes the mind think in this direction. Maybe it is just the monotony of the past years that crashes down and the heart fights for its own time, time without the preoccupation with success. Time when the heart lives and the mind watches, just exist. Maybe....

I find myself slowing down....

Time has passed and it has been a week since this account. The place has changed and I find myself in the sweltering heat of Delhi. I think as I decided to put up this blog I wanted to put out the misery that I have borne for a larger part of my college life.

The reason I write this is far from the search for company. It is because the search has ended. My perception of her priorities mirrors my approach to life over the years. I want to shout out the futility of such a life. I want to shout out the importance of now . It is the now that I live in. It is the now that I want her to see, the now that has me in it.

The reason I write this is also because this cannot be explained over a conversation and also because I do not have the guts to do that. It is my frustration that speaks and only the written word can do justice to its angst. So the moral of the story, it is better to give the heart the wheel cause only then would life be complete.

Ohh! These 'Indians'

When I was making this trip across the two continents I was repeatedly told of the overwhelming number of Indians in the UK. When I got here I can say I was overwhelmed. They are everywhere. I mean in the movies Indians are generally the cleaners at the airport or accented taxi drivers. But no, this was a whole different scenario. First neither are they taxi drivers nor do they have accents. What came to my mind was an old conspiracy theory, one in which the Indian government packs off its people to burrow their way into UK and when the time comes we take control (I can almost hear "Mogambo Khushua"). Very well planned... and I must agree, a marvellous foresight. However I am afraid they might not succeed (not that I really care).

This was a rather disturbing perspective and so I went on a bit of history hunt. If you find time do check "British Asians".It turns out that these Indians I see here today are probably third or fourth generation. In fact they are just namesake Indians, growing up in a British society and most of them going to public schools are probably as British as any Pole or Greek here. They are called cocas (short for coconuts) being brown outside and white inside. Not to blame the schooling system in Britain, I probably cannot accuse anybody of being unindian.

What I am disgusted with is the recognition that is given for their work by the Indians back home. When an 'Indian' kid wins the high school spelling bee competition it makes news in Indian papers. When there are study reports claiming indian kids to be smarter than their classmates it makes news. What we do not realise back home is that these guys are hardly Indian. They are Indian during specific days in the years when they act in the Ramleela at the local community center in english. With dialogs like " Oh Hanuman! Will you bring your monkey friends to help save Seeta? " in a wonderfully perfect english accent, I'd say it would have made the most entertaining show on the westend. At least I was all splits.

My point being if the conspirators (or Mogambo) were to execute their plan they wouldn't really have an army waiting here for them.

And a new blog is born.....

So much for all my scepticism regarding blogs, as I hereby put up one for myself. Despite all my reservations regarding the concept, I find that the time has come for me to make my attempt at the Booker. Yes it has been a long borne dream of mine to climb up the stage (don't even know if there is one) and make my acceptance speech thanking all the literary genius assembled there for their faith in my words and ......

Not that my book will be a open publication, but this is my method of collecting stories for that elusive booker. Thus armed with a high held opinion of my capabilities and a flimsy dream, I declare this blog open.