I ask myself....

Have you ever wished for something, worked for something and really know that you deserved it and then not get it? Have you ever seen less competent people surpassing you? Have you ever let your expectations rise so high, that you yourself know it is impossible to fulfill them? Have you ever felt so bad, that you lost all feeling itself? Have you ever felt so let down, that you lose your faith itself? Have you seen your loved ones ever walk past you, without even giving you as much as a glance? Have you looked on unable to explain your feelings and wishing the other person would simply understand them? Have you wished to do something and then just held back?.....

Midnight Ponderings

It is midnight and I am at home.:) Yes, I know it is a nice thing, especially for hostellers like me. Anyway it is time for our annual family get-together, so am home.
First things first. The previous 2 weeks were over in a flash. My economics presentation was very good and beautifully made(it is my blog after all). But as it was mine, there was bound to be some minor glitch in it. I misspelt my name. Shakespeare may say as to "What's in a name?", but still it is my name. The prof didn't notice and now I have a new name. Apart from that, the presentation was simply fantabulous.
Then the test series came and also Valentine's day, which were both disappointments, and the less said about them the better it is.
So the best part is that I have taken a week long hiatus from college and come home. I am catching up on all the bickerings and fightings with my brother. And my mom has forbidden us both from sitting in the same room without her supervision.:) (Imagine, my bro and I are old enough to vote, drive a car and even get married!) And time has travelled back and I have again become a crybaby(have complained about my bro, atleast a zillion times in the past 4 days). But my bro is no angel either.
So am having fun. And I have just found out, that my apple does have a touchpad. I know I must be ashamed of myself. For the past one year, I went about telling everyone otherwise. But then, "To err is human".
Bon Nuit!

Brrrrrrr.............

It is cold...real cold today. I managed to get up from my hot cosy bed and go to class. I captured a picture of my hostel at 9 in the morn.I know it is foggy.

I was trying to take some more beautiful pics due to which I even became late for class. I sat through a whole hour of powder metallurgy, only to learn in the end, that I will not be given attendance.:(
Any way it snowed nearby, so obviously it is going to get colder. Brrrrr........

Who to blame?

Its the new year, a new trip but the circumstances remain the same. For the interested, let me elaborate. It is the time for the annual magazine trip, and for the past two years, the equations has remained the same. The girls, first of all, wish to go an overnight trip. Everyone agrees but all's well does not always end well. In the end, the girls back out, leaving the guys to enjoy their freedom.
Analysing the reasons as to why girls don't go, is a difficult task. Parents generally don't agree. They have their own reasons. Some of them do agree, but ultimately seeing the minuscule number of girls, forbid their daughters from going. I don't even wish to go into the details of why they do so. I don't wish to blame them, as they would have be having valid reasons.
Next, coming to the guys in the group. Not their mistake, after all we let them down. But I do wish they would understand that we don't do so on purpose. The memory about our not going on the previous trip is still fresh in our minds, and we have a new situation to add to it. I don't blame them, but it would be better if they were a bit more sympathetic about it. We do try our best to coax our parents.
So, who should we blame? Should we blame ourselves for wanting to go on a trip? This is a question which will yield no answer.

Ramblings

I am now feeling that I am falling into a deep abyss of nothingness. The days are stretching long before me and I have a lot to do. The tut sheets pile up in front of me and I don't have the will to pick them up and solve them. "Someone will do it", that is the thought that comes to my mind.
I sit and stare idly at the ceiling. I need to make an economics presentation but I still don't have a topic.
In short, I have lots to do but nothing is getting done.

The Grind

People ask me as to what we do in metallurgy. And so today I am going to squash all rumours about how less we work. First of all, we daily have classes from 9 to 5. Ya, I know it is too long, but then aren't we the brightest minds in the country. Next, our department firmly believes that practise makes a man perfect. For the past 2 years we have been doing the same practical. We are required to grind samples, polish them with 4 grades of emery paper and then polish it on the wheel. And finally view the microstructure. Simple, you would say and would be wondering what am I making a fuss about. But I will let you into a secret. Barring 2 or 3 illustrious people in my class, none of us can still get all the planes alligned in one direction nor can we remove all scratches. Everytime I polish the sample, instead of becoming more fine and flat, more and more scratches are generated. And if any one of us to is fortunate enough to get a glimpse of the structure, then we break into a victory dance. And I tell you, the achievement is as big as landing on the moon.
This time I managed to get some photographs. This is a photograph of our beloved grinder which has seen various other competent students like us, unable to get a perfect surface.

I also managed to photograph my friend hard at work. This is how we polish a sample on the emery paper.

I will try to give you more insights into the lives of metallurgists from time to time. But right now, I am going to draw those microstructures. And I really hope, that one day I will achieve the perfect surface and see the always elusive microstructure, all by myself.

I wish..

Sometimes I really wish I was a boy. I know I should not be thinking such things, but still. I know our life is much easier then theirs. A boy is expected to provide, while a girl is expected to maintain the provisions. If she provides as well, then well and good, but it is not her primary aim in life. I do believe that we have the easier way out.
But even then I sometimes do wish that I was a boy. They have a different kind of freedom which we don't have. We can't go out at night alone, because there may be bad people lurking about. Always go out with some members of the "stronger" sex, we were advised, and as if that helps. The recent cases in Mumbai and Kochi prove otherwise.
I do wish that there will come a time, when girls will have the same freedom as guys, but I don't see it anywhere in the near future. And until then, all I can do is wish to be a guy.

Fear of the Dark

Iron Maiden sang this song expressing their fear of the dark and the unknown. We all suffer from some or the other fear...there are some things which scare us out of our wits. These fears may cause ordinary persons to put up their best resistances in order to avoid them.
I suffer from one such fear. The thing that I am afraid to do, is generally enjoyed by all. I have a phobia of writing on the blackboard. Coax me, cajole me, but my hand will not touch a chalk piece. I have no idea where this fear stems from, but it is deeply ingrained in my system.
While in school, I abhorred teachers who asked us to write on the board. Students became monitors, specifically because they could legally write names on the board. When I became the monitor, I never wrote names on the blackboard and so was generally liked by the students. You may say I have proper etiquettes and did not like to show my back to the audience. The very few times I was actually face to face with the monstrous black board, I felt a hundred pair of eyes boring into my back. I could feel the pressure and the tension in the air. It is laudable that I even managed to write an alphabet. So I came up with a thousand and one reasons of not writing including "I suffer from chalk dust allergy" and the less used "My hands will become rough".
You will be wondering why I suddenly thought about enlightening you about my syndrome. It so happened that today in my GD class I suggested a brilliant topic. The prof asked me to write the same on the board and there I developed cold feet. I looked to my side and asked the next person to come to my rescue, which he very unsympathetically refused to do so. The tension was mounting, my classmates were looking at me and waiting for me to get up and complete this "simple" task, but I sat glued to my chair. I again asked my neighbor, and he looked at me blankly without understanding my anguish. The prof then said to him-"write it down, she is short and will not be able to reach that height." I let that rebuke pass, but I would like to tell him that I am as tall as an average Indian woman. The guy got up and wrote and I heaved a sigh of relief. I wonder what I would have done if I had been pressurised even once more-probably I would have left the class(yes, I am paranoid) or may have feigned a cough.
After reading this you may be rolling on the floor with laughter, but it sure is a big thing for me.

Till Now...

Ok...I have put off writing a post for long but now I am finally filled with an ardent desire to write something. So I will first of all update you on the past month's happenings. I watched more movies and then I came back home. I spent my birthday transversing the length of the country but it was a new experience. I have never spent my birthday outside my home...not even in school nor in college. I received birthday wishes from all my friends and spent more than Rs.100 on roaming on that day, but every rupee was worth it. I found that the age of 22 also brought, signs of maturity and wisdom on my face. I was asked by two people, while travelling, if i was working!
I surfed through a lot of blogs in the holidays. For starters, check out Lemonade's blog. Her designs are brilliant and the girl is obviously very talented. Then, I came across many blogs written by girls and it was a new and refreshing change(I can be forgiven. I study in a boys college and have really forgotten the various talents of the fairer sex). The blogs talked about all things under the sun ranging from mundane daily issues to politics to sex. There were many topics which I have many times thought of writing about, but then have changed my plans, for fears of being branded a feminist.
I spent new year in Roorkee, with some midnight wishing and bakar. College began on the 1st (we were supposed to only register, but still...it is 1st). We are supposed to fill up these 6 forms containing all our relevant information(I don't know what they do with the last year forms) but ultimately it is a tedious process.
Classes started the very next day with the professors, each coming and giving us an introduction of their subject. I have taken "Advanced Foundry" as my departmental elective, and soon found that we have "Foundry" as a core course itself. This has resulted in listening to the same thing about moulds and patterns in consecutive lectures. God save me!
The other day, a prof while explaining something about hardness, told us about the material of shaving blades. Then he went on to state how most of us use it regularly, while(looking at the 3 girls in class) others do not. I could hardly stiffle my laughter and carefully avoided looking at my friend. I just wished to explain him that some also use razors, but then thought otherwise.
Anyway, I plan to update more frequently this year(this is what I write in each post), but still "I need to have a will, to have a way". And I would like to wish you all a Happy New Year.:)
And Do Not Drink and Drive

Kollywood Calling

Finally, a post. I know it has been a long time and I have no excuses. Anyway, it’s December and I am down south. It is my first December sans woolens and it is a new experience(but I still like my sweaters).
Coming to my title, no I have not got any acting offers but I have been watching a lot of the madduland movies. It’s been a long time but I have slowly got used to the slangs. I have observed some things- these people like their heroes to be dark while their heroines should be fair and stout. No wonder, they have nicknames like “Thundering Thighs”. Even after all these years, Vijay still remains the best among the lot. Trisha is the best among the fairer sex( you can see the pictures).

And now my experience. My tamil, which till now, I believed was quite good, has left me in a few lurches. I tried to get a recharge for my mobile, which resulted in me doing a song dance routine in front of the shopkeeper. But I still managed to get the recharge. I analysed the cause of my delay in comprehending the language (with some help from the Incredible Bulk) and found out that my thought processing takes place in English or Hindi and it takes time to translate tamil. So I am not at fault.
I have right now run out of things to write about. But don’t worry, I will be back.
And “Yenna Rascala, mind it”(just wanted to fit it somehow, it is funny)

Chak De!

It seemed that a curfew had been imposed on Village R. The roads wore a deserted look and the one or two brave people who had managed to venture out, quickly hobbled on. The students had managed to get the class dispersed in record time and were seen sprinting towards their hostels. As I walked past Alpahaar, I saw the barren landscape and my heart skipped a beat. What was the world coming to, I thought. And then it struck me. It was the final match of the Twenty20 world cup and that too India Vs Pakistan.
I reached my hostel and was greeted with the sound of rejoicing from a mile away. I believed someone had scored. As I wearily pushed my way past the crowd, I realised that a batsman had just been dismissed. I somehow managed to mingle with the crowd, lest some superstitious soul pointed her finger at me and had me thrown out of the TV room.
I managed to find a small corner for myself and settled to watch the proceedings. It seemed that all the girls of R had turned up to watch the encounter. Every ball which made it past the boundary was applauded while every dismissal led to shrieks. I was pretty sure that my ear drums would burst.
The match managed to reach the half level mark(my ear drums were still intact) and my first thoughts were to scourge for a good seat. But even the others were no fools. Nobody even moved an inch, lest their seats were taken.
Anyway the match proceeded with Pakistan making an impressive start. And then a wicket fell. Along with that, our mess secy came with the good news that the mess timings had been extended on account of the match. Loud cheers followed.
The match proceeded and along with that the oohs and aahs increased. And then Shahrukh Khan appeared on the screen. The poor soul had come to see the match but one has to pay the price of being a celebrity. He waved and the intensity of the shouts increased. He went and the girls sighed. Coming back to the match, each wicket was greeted with dancing which could have put even the cheerleaders to shame.
The finale of the match was the last over. Even atheists were seen fervently praying to God. As the last wicket fell, the whole room erupted with screams. People jumped on to the tables and strangers hugged each other. It seemed as if each and every one had been there on the field. The happiness in everyones eyes was unmistakeable. Messages were being sent at a fast pace and calls were being made to spread the good news.
I managed to escape the happy riots by a fraction of a whisker. I am still in one piece(given the fact that I did appreciate the Pakistanis time and again, and in doing so, managed to irk quite a many people.)
I have just been informed that a dance party is being organised to celebrate the victory. Well, I plan to go and have a ball. Chak de India!!

Ye Haath Mujhe De De....

As I sat down to write my exam, I happened to glance across my desk. And there deeply engraved on the bench was the four letter "F" word and its equivalent hindi translation. Not that I was shocked. Two years in college have greatly improved my vocabulary. I have learnt anatomy in MD classes. But the best thing, are the various signs which are made to vent out frustrations.
Nowdays fingers are used for many other things apart from counting. It was earlier taught that pointing fingers is rude. Now I know that pointing middle finger in worse. I once happened to see a presentation in which the speaker kept pointing at the transparencies with his middle finger, oblivious to his mistake. Recently my friend returned from abroad. She brought with her the learning that pointing thumbs also means the same thing. The index and little fingers when pointed upwards together, also refer to the same thing in some Scandinavian country. And Ross had already taught us the use of our fists. I now feel that it is safest to walk with my hands in my pockets. But that is also a sign of insolence. I really feel that at least Sholay's Thakur was happy in one way. He didn't have to worry which way his fingers were pointing. :)

Jinxed

This Tag game is jinxed. Since the day I have been tagged, I have been unable to post anything. So I am breaking the sequence. I don't want to jinx eight more fellow bloggers.

Which school are you in?

This is the question which everyone frequently asks me( for general information, I am half an engineer now). My petite structure and innocent face(hem,hem...) fool many. There have been countless instances, when people have asked me if I am in the 8th standard.
The most recent of them occurred today morning. As I hurried to class, a group of second year guys were waiting in front of the department, searching for a scapegoat to rag. As I walked past them, I was ordered to come in proper dress code. I just stopped myself from laughing on their faces, as I saw the professor enter the class. I wish that I meet those guys again, so that I can teach them a thing or two about ragging.
But it is not always that the situations are hilarious. Once while travelling in a train with my mother, the TC refused to accept that I am 20 years old. He was very obstinate and I almost had a fight with him. It is basic common sense that if a girl is lying about her age, she would never show herself as being older.
But now I have come to accept that people think that I am a kid. I had a awkward experience in the library, when the issue clerk asked everyone to move aside so that "Gudiya" could come and get the book issued.
But looking at the brighter side, I will look younger even when I am very old. I may even be able to promote 'Santoor' soap, the advertisements of which show a young looking mom. But my friends say that if I do that advertisement, I will get the role of the daughter! All I would like to say to my detractors is that, "Meri twacha se meri umar ka pata hi nahi chalta"!

Think before you speak

An adage recently caught my eye- "Arrows once shot and words once out of the mouth, can never be taken back." This is perfectly true. History is full of illustrations, where people have said certain things, leading to wars.
Even we say certain things, which we do not mean to say. But once said, nothing can be done. This specially happens when we are in a group. Spurred on by others, we may say things, which we might find funny, but others may not.
I have been caught in sticky situations where in the flow of the moment, I said many things, resulting in fights and once even costing a friendship. But still, I feel I have a lot of scope of improvement. Hope I can do it.

Left, Right, Left!!!

While reading Lefty's blog a few days back, I realised that we both shared something: our interest in sports. Just quiz me on any sport, be it the Rolland Garros(Long live the French), else even obscure sports like Shin Wrestling(played in the English countryside) or Elephant Polo(played in Thailand), and pat, you will have an answer. But while selecting a team, I am the last person one should place their bet on. In school, I abhorred the physical education examinations. I couldn't even outrun a snail( if a snail agreed to compete against me). When I reached college, I was informed that we had the best sporting facilities in the country. Like this was the golden chance for which I was waiting. I still can't understand why people torture themselves, in order to sweat it out. Even entering the UGES gives me the creeps, seeing people play so many games. And believe me, Foosball looks good, only when Joey and Chandler play it.
But this does not mean that I have not had my moment of sporting glory. When I was elected the captain of my house, in school, the one thing which really worried me, was the Sports Day. Normally, I would have abstained from taking part in such mundane activities. But "With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility". I had to lead my squadron in the march past competition. I thought, all I needed to do was to walk and shout orders. I could do both, so it should be a piece of cake. Albeit a few minor hiccups, my long hours of shouting, did pay off. I was highly complimented on my skills and our squadron did win some prizes.
After that, I hung up my boots and did not further exploit my sporting prowess. One may wonder, why? But it is my belief that one should gracefully retire at one's peak time. Else he is capable of being mocked at. Till the day, when I again get the right platform to showcase my talents, May My Boots Rest in Peace!

Thank You God!

Another Sunday, a day to laze and do nothing (as if I do a lot). As I lay in bed, deciding how to spend time, my dad came and told me that there was an exam that day and a visually handicapped person was appearing in it. So they needed a scribe. He asked me if I was willing to take up the job. I thought for a while, and since there was no good movie to watch, I said yes.
I reached the exam centre and roamed around. When I told the people there as to why I had come, they all smiled. I was informed that no visually handicapped person had ever appeared for the exam and so I could just sit back and relax.
I sat down in the control room with a book. Suddenly the chief examiner told me that the candidate had arrived. So I marched into the room and sat down beside him. The man was in his late 20s and he was a teacher. He had a very high power in his eyes and he could just see the outlines of objects. He told me that his subject was mathematics and he had read everything through audio medium.
The first paper was objective. As I read out the questions, I could see him concentrating hard. I felt helpless as I saw him solve mathematics questions in his mind. It was a tedious procedure. I had to read out each question a number of times for him.
And then I realized that he had actually given his whole future in my hands. I had just come here, as I was a free. But he had come all the way from another city to write this exam, which would ascertain his whole career. If I did not put in effort to read the problems in the proper way, then he would be unable to solve them. With this thought, I resumed my work with increased effort.
The second paper was subjective which was even more difficult. I noticed that he solved only those questions where you were required to prove something. I understood that the questions, in which some value was supposed to be found, were obviously difficult for him.
At the end of the paper, he thanked me for being a good scribe. On hearing this, I felt happy. I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to help that person. The person’s determination inspired me. It was a learning experience for me.

I was reminded of these lines:

I complained that I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet.

Right To Equality!

I have always believed in the equality of men and women. What a man can do, so can a woman and vice versa. And finally, the world is also realising this(especially the vice versa part).
Yesterday, as I sat and watched the idiot box(not again, you may say), my attention was caught by an advertisement. The product being endorsed was a men's sunscreen lotion. The model was shown riding a motorcycle and then applying the lotion, while a voice in the background informed us about the 5 superb effects of the lotion, and so on and so forth.
I almost did a somersault on seeing this. Men have, at last, come of age and are acceptng that they also wish (and need) to groom themselves. Countless other products have also hit the market shelves like fairness creams and shampoos which are exclusively for men. Women, it is time to be cautious. Men have also entered the arena and are enjoying it!
But I must say, that even I ( a campaigner for equality) had a heart attack, when in my first year, i saw with my very own eyes,the numerous beauty products which guys used( Shehnaz herbal creams, L'Oreal shampoos and the odd ones even owned lip gloss!) Gradually, news started trickling in about their grooming expenses which left us bewildered. And the last nail in the coffin was driven, when one of my classmates shared his acne troubles with me and suggested remedies to cure mine( and they worked!)
So, I have accepted that boys are no longer boys. They have treaded into the so-called female do main and are loving it. Right now, the trend has gained only limited acceptance, but will soon be the In-Thing. I don't like the term metrosexual, so all I would say is, Welcome, To the New Age Man.

15 Seconds Of Fame

Picture this scene- A couple take part in a reality show in which they have to stay separately for a week with other singles. When they meet after a week, the husband tells of his undying love for his wife. The wife, on the other hand, has second thoughts and tells her perplexed husband that she has found someone else. And she leaves.
Not to worry, this is just the starting scene of “The Stepford Wives”. But still with the advent of reality shows, I think that such days are not far away.
I am nowadays sitting at home, and with nothing better to do, my constant companion is the idiot box. I have come across some unusual concept shows, which force me to think about their consequences. Some of them are:
• Wife Swap: Two wives swap their dysfunctional families for two weeks and try to bring about certain changes (for better or for worse) in their new residences. I wonder as to what would happen if the wife returns and the family feel that the new wife was better or vice versa.
• Monster House: A family hands over its cherished house to the crew, which tears it apart and presents it back in a new refurnished format. What would happen if one does not like this renovation? Would they get back their cherished abode?
• What not to wear? : This is my personal favourite. Women hand over their wardrobes to two stylists, who show no mercy as they restyle everything. The end product is something, which everyone may not appreciate.
These and many other shows, force me to question their very basis. Just a single thought comes to my mind- Is the 15 seconds (minutes) of fame worth all this effort?

Leaving On A Jet Plane

If there is one word to describe life, then it is Bizarre. Life throws unexpected challenges at us and then waits to see who has the last laugh. But then, this is what makes it worth living.

I got up yesterday morning, full of enthusiasm and happiness. The reason: I was going home. After a tedious semester, I was returning back to my soil. Like Antaeus, the greek hero, I too derive strength from the soil. I had plans to rejuvenate myself and come back fresh.

I and my friend made our way to the station with some discomfort due to our luggages, and reached a bit late. Our train which has the reputation of never arriving on time, shocked us by its puctuality. We somehow managed to heave our luggages into the compartment, and sat down with a sigh of relief. We were finally, on the way home.

We arrived in Delhi right on time(another first). We had three whole hours to while away, before boarding the connecting train. After dumping our luggage in the cloak room, as we made our way towards the exit, I glanced at the train timings. Horror of horrors, our train had been rescheduled and was now leaving at midnight.

Now, what were two young and beautiful(ahem...) girls supposed to do till midnight in a big and unknown city? After a frenzy of frantic calls, we found that there was no train available before midnight. We were in a state of panic, when a brainwave hit us: Try flying. Now after this idea, all that was left was its execution.
A good samaritan (my friend's friend) helped us. He offered to get the tickets booked for us. All we were supposed to do, was to go to a cyber cafe and get a print out of the tickets. Sounds easy, but there was no internet cafe nearby. A helpful man directed us to one, about a kilometre away (Later we saw, that there was one right in front of the cloak room). We trudged to the cafe, and after waiting for an hour, we finally got tickets on a Jet airways flight(It did burn a hole in my dad's pockets, but still....).
The best part was that the flight was at 4:30, the security check began at 3:30, we were at the station and it was already 2:45. We still needed to take our luggages from the cloak room. And to top it all, we had to go the airport and we had no idea about any route in Delhi.
Somehow, we managed to reach the airport on time, without any further mishaps. I asked the security personnel for directions and managed to board the flight.
I reached home and got a sound scolding from my mother, and an elaborate lecture on the virtue of patience. But still, my holidays started with an adventure.
Some good points also stemmed out of this incident: I reached home early, I got to fly, I got a new incident to post on my blog, A new story to tell to my friends and the best part: My favorite song "Leaving on a jet plane" the OST of Armageddon suited my situation.
Life is good.:)