Brain Freeze

Red Tape & All That Jazz

2006-06-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

Or How to Fool the College Authorities into Thinking You Are a Blameless Babe in the Woods

Four years in a college, and you'd think that the higher-ups would PAY to see us go. But NO! Our college authorities don't want to give us up without a struggle. So, they have devised the perfect torture plan to make sure that 1 out of 5 students do not leave the College of Engineering, Trivandrum.
This seemingly simple yet devious plan is called, innocuously enough, a No-Dues Certificate. At face value, the form asks very simple questions indeed.
1) Name, (easy enough unless you are the kind that writes EVERYTHING from your neighbour's paper).
2) Class and year in which admitted to CET. Now, unless you spent most of your adult life at CET, I am sure you remember the time you found yourself in the midst of the Acacia forest wondering "Mera number kab aayega?"
8) Reason for leaving: Uhm, they won't have me anymore?! I wish they would, but they need the space for the juniors....

Once the poor final year student (or to be alumnus) is done with the third degree, he/she is suddenly faced with a mass of cryptic designations like Head Librarian, Hostel Warden, Bus Secretary, Supdt. A4, Supdt. G2 etc. Like a lifeline you cling on to Head of Department and Dean as someone you might recognise if you meet them in the lobby....
You're told you need their signatures. Counting down, that's around nine signatures and a smile creases your face as you start calculating what can be done with the spare time. When, suddenly, the trap is sprung by the gleeful other in the conversation,
"By the way, you need to get signatures from every lab and place in the college where you set your foot in."
Frantically, some lovebirds begin to calculate if the long walks and the sojourns in the Acacia Park (also known as the Panjaara Kaadu) was costing them any.
And thus begins your long trek around the 145 acres of the College of Engineering, Trivandrum.
Any sane CETian begins with the Library, where it's easy to get the four signatures and bid adieu. Any ECEian worth their salt then demands a no dues from the Machines Lab, (heh! imagine breaking a DC motor or a AC transformer), and the Mechanical Workshop Lab, (no breakages unless asked to use a large hammer and a chisel). Getting signatures from the umpteen labs you never remembered having done in the four years in college, from the component store, from your staff advisor and the HOD complete the quota at the Dept.
Ideally, the CGPU, the CCF and the CETAA ought to come somewhere in the middle.
I couldn't bear to look as the sir at the Central Computer Facility punched a hole into my ID card, (which was falling apart with that final indignity anyway). Ideally, I did say. I forgot to get the no dues from the CET Alumni Association (CETAA), but got a signature from the HOD anyway.
That made for a funny conversation.
Friend: "I have to get a signature from the CETAA"
Me: "Now, I haven't been to any of those reunions yet. So, I didn't pay. I gave it off without paying THEM!"
Friend: "Hah. Now, you won't be an alumnus of CET."
Me: "Aren't we all supposed to meet, like, in 2056?"
After one day,
Me: "Sir, I got my no dues approved without signing three forms in triplicate about joining the CETAA as a member."
Sir: "Cluck like a chicken thrice and promise me you won't repeat this again!"

Then, of course, there is the case of non-college bus using, day scholars having to camp outside the Hostel Warden and the Bus Secretary's Office. Not to mention having to take a sign off the scatter brained lady that is the Dept. Librarian.

This process took three days. At the end of which, I cheerfully went to the UG Dean's Office and asked for my TC.
The lady looked mournfully up and asked me to wait for three months, at the end of which the Dean would inform me I'd have to take a signature again since he used Emerald Green Ink to sign instead of Jade Green.

I hate red tape. And, no, not the shoes.

PostScript
This is my last blogspot from this address. This is because of proxy issues this blog page faces at most institutes, including IIMB.
Those cats who are curious about my further adventures are free to read on at .....

Frankly, I am curious to know too ;)
http://bstung.wordpress.com

PostScript to a PS
On the honour of a Fachchi from IIMB, I'll try to keep the blog updated and as clear as the accounts kept by Anderson & Anderson for Enron.

See you guys, and trust me I enjoyed the Brain Freeze ride.

Tick tock...

2006-06-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

1:30 am, 21st June, 2006.
In around 10 hours, I'll be giving the last engineering exam of my life. (If all goes to plan)
In 15 hours, I'll have gotten my no-dues and hopefully, my TC from the College of Engineering, Trivandrum, my home away from home for the past four years. (More on that soon enough.)
In around 84 hours, I'll be bidding adieu to my life in Trivandrum, a place I have been inhabiting for the past 17 years.
In 5 days, I'll be roaming the streets of Bangalore with my family, visiting relatives and smiling my way into the record books.
In less than 6 days, I'll be at the Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore.

If this is a dream, don't wake me up!

Closure

2006-06-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

I am leaving CET in a week. This is something I wanted to post around 8 months ago...

This is a post that has been pending for sometime. Many a time I started typing the words that I hoped would in some measure put my feelings into words. But, everytime, I failed. This is an attempt, futile maybe, to bring closure.
Death is something that happens in everyone's life. Whether it is the end or beginning of something is debatable.
But, murder.... Murder is different. Murder is despicable... Murder is also something that shouldn't happen to someone you know.
On 13th October, 2005, my classmate went missing. It was around the holidays and nobody really knew about it. The next day, we had our seminars, and all of the seventh semester, Applied Electronics were busy in eking out just those extra five marks from their talks.
Maybe we were too engrossed in our own lives to notice the absence of someone we took for granted in our class, maybe we were guilty of paying too less attention. Maybe, we were just too human....
The next week, it casually dropped into conversation.
"Did you know Shyamal is missing?"
That's when I remembered he hadn't been coming for the labs. We were trying to figure out where he could have gone and when he'd gone missing. Conflicting stories came up. Some thought it was Friday and some were sure they'd seen him on Thursday. The girls were anxious, and the boys tried to reassure us.
"He'll be back, he always is."
The story found itself on Page 3 of Hindu everyday. The police had no idea. The police suspected extortion. The police were in Madras. The police were questioning students. Always the headline read, "Missing Engineering College student".
Everyday, unwillingly, I pulled myself to read the newspaper, praying hard and wishing that one day the headline would read "Missing Engineering College Student found."
This is when students come together.
We started discussing about what could be wrong. Where he could have gone. What could have happened. Hundreds of questions and hundreds of plausible answers and just an unspoken question in our minds, under the surface, "Are you as afraid as I am for him?"
Everyone was afraid and unable to voice what we actually felt.
Days passed in this fashion.
Everyday, I picked the newspaper. The media was sensationalising everything, and I hated myself for relying on what the papers were saying. I ought to have known him better. I ought to have taken the time...
So many maybes... so many what ifs....
When, suddenly, that was it.
I took the paper one day and turned automatically to the third page. There was a terse report of an unidentified body found near the By-Pass. I turned panicky. On reading, it said it was that of a 30 year old man. My mind quietened down and my prayers became more vehement.
That afternoon, I got a phone call.
"There's bad news. Shyamal's body has been found. He's been murdered."
I sat down. There was a knot in my stomach. I forced myself to read the report again, reading between the lines.
I remembered the shirt he was wearing that day, according to the report.
Unbidden thoughts flooded into my head.
All of us in workshop garb, doing carpentry, and sir asking if everyone understood Malayalam. Whereupon, everyone pointed to Shyamal, saying he was from the Andamans. The sir had to spend three weeks explaining everything in two languages.
Shyamal sitting down on the verandah, outside our Power Electronics lab, playing with his mobile phone.
All the boys bugging him to know what the hindi word for 'cockroach' was. The MHites asking him to fan them as they "so"ed (slept).
His quirky humour and his funny way of talking.
The way he (and all my other lab partners) filched my lab record and rough record to do their experiments.
Three years of opportunities when we could know him and couldn't. Three years ago, his parents had sent him to our college to get a B.Tech degree. Never again would they see him. Never again would there be a chance for us to know him properly.
My prayers turned. I hoped he hadn't suffered much in his passing and I prayed for the peace of his family.
I felt for those of my friends (and his) who had to go and identify one of our own.
I found I couldn't bear to be alone. I got online and I stayed online for 3 days, talking nonsense.
Many times, I took up blogger's home page to write an eulogy. But what could I say, other than:-
"He was my classmate, a gentle soul who never harmed a fly. This ought not have happened to him. We didn't really know him. We wish we did."
Then, we began hating the media. The truth of "news" and invasion of privacy had caught up with us.
Initially, it was in the turn of phrase, the slightly sarcastic way of saying "disappearance", quotes included. Then it escalated, the front pages were splashed with his picture and those of his grieving parents. "Leads" were being followed. And everywhere we went, murmurs followed..
"Oh, so you are in CET. That boy..."
"He was my classmate..."
"Oh...." A long pause invariably followed. "What kind of boy was he?"
We hated the question and the answer equally. "We didn't know him all that well."
I gave up reading the paper for the next week. When we went back to college for our sessional exams, his pictures were put up on every wall, and I couldn't bear to look at it without remembering him with the half smile on his face, which he invariably had.
He had been one of us. All of 21 years of age. His life was nipped in the bud. Murdered for no fault of his own. Senseless, violent murder for no reason at all.
In his life, an average engineering student, having fun in his own way. One of the faceless, nameless thousands who pass out of such colleges everyday. In death, he became a political statement and a media frenzy. And like all political statements, short-lived. For some days, there were placards around the Secretariat that said "Bring the perpetrators of the Shyamal murder to justice." Those eventually disappeared too.
The Shyamal murder... Shyamal was a person to us, he wasn't a statement. These two words are something none of us can reconcile with each other, try as we might.
This is my prayer, dear god, give his family the peace of mind they need and the strength to face the tempest ahead.

The Visit

2006-06-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

The fan was creaking in the room; it was the only noise in the silence that had suddenly descended. This was the sort of silence where the participants smiled quick awkward smiles around which never meant anything special. She spent sometime looking up at the rafters of the house. The burnished wood looked like it had survived the ravages of centuries.
"I wonder how old this is? Dare I ask him?"
She dragged her eyes back to his face. He was smiling his usual wide toothed grin: slightly ingratiating and almost a smirk.
"So, what are your plans?"
She mumbled an answer that seemed to cover her near future adequately. Her mother broke in smoothly to cover whatever confusion she felt. That left her free to look around the room again. Her eyes wandered over the cheetah's head, the staircase to the loft, the basement (which her mom had told her was used to store grain in the old days) the calendar fluttering in the breeze, the tattered furniture. Incongruously, a huge Coke bottle stared back at her; they said it was a CD player. The modern touches in the room: a TV, a VCD player, the music system and a curio shelf filled with cheap dolls, just served to remind her how far they had come.
Twelve-thirteen years ago,there was no TV (She'd cursed that, "NO TV during VACATIONS?"), no video player or music system. The radio cranked out Akashvaani. But they still had fun. They'd sit outside on the porch during power cuts; all her cousins came together for vacations and sang and played cards even by candlelight. She remembered being the pesky little kid, the one everyone pampered and spoilt with toffees. The one that used to ensonce herself into the nearest cousin's lap and demand to hear a story from, the one that begged to be allowed to play grown-up games like Monopoly and '28' because there was no fun in being left out. She remembered the nights, sleeping on a straw mat, a tasty snack for mosquitoes; the shadows outside looking more menacing in the darkness, the table-fan whirring in its futile crusade to drive the heat of the night away.
Her grandmother and she had arguments over who had the last toffee, at least until the year ammachi had completely lost her memory. The new routine included the question, "Are you married yet? Who are you?" everytime she visited. Laughter almost bubbled to the surface when she remembered the expectant look on ammachi's face as she used to look at her hands to the ever-present packet of toffees her visitors brought her.
There were no toffees this time.
She snapped her attention back to what her uncle was saying, "...And they'd taken his gall bladder out." He finished it off with a kind of gory delight.
"Don't you need a gall bladder for proper functioning of the system?", asked her mother.
She mumbled again, "It's just for enzymes."
Her uncle laughed, "Yeah, they do it at the Sayippu's Hospital even now."
"So, how's your health today?" enquired her mother of her aunt and uncle.
"Haha.", he laughed, "I am still taking my pills. Five of them, three times a day."
Aunty added, "I am better than usual. I had an eye infection...." They were confirmed hypochondriacs, a genetic failing she always hoped she'd never inherit.
Her mother was continuing the small talk, "I thought you'd be busy today."
Aunty dear stood up with pride and looked at her busy husband, "He had three separate appointments today. A wedding, a baptism and a funeral.. "
"Speaking of weddings, when is George's wedding?" George was her favourite cousin, the one whom she teased mercilessly about how he was going to die a bachelor. So far, he was on the right path; her only unmarried cousin.
"My dear uncle, always so busy with the small world around him," she thought and smiled slightly and looked at her daughter. She remembered being overawed by her oh-so-grownup cousins. They could do everything so much better than her, they could do nothing wrong. Surely, they were supermen and women.
And then, suddenly that awe had vanished. She'd grown and they'd suddenly diminished in stature. They were as mundane as the rest of the people she knew. It wasn't their fault, she knew that, but was it hers? She suddenly wished she had the old days back.
She stood up abruptly, without excusing herself and ran outside to the porch, to the steps she remembered. This was the front of her ancestral home. It was seldom used now, the cars used to stop at the back door now. But the water wasn't as she'd remembered. Water hyacinth grew thick on its surface and the boat was pulled high and dry. She knew it had been ages since boats had plied on the small canal (could it be called a creek?), but she also remembered shivering on the steps leading into the water. There had been a time when they went to church on a boat; that had been nice. They had gone to the church, before coming home.
Even the church had changed. It was painted properly, the vicarage almost shiny and new, the water flowing past it had become murky brown, as if angry at the present. There was a pristine new macadamised road now. Everyone walked or came by vehicle to the Sunday service now. The cemetery outside the chapel looked dilapidated and uncared for. Huge granite slabs marked the life and passing of the beloveds of so many members of her family, family crypts and tall monoliths graced the small place. The paint was peeling on one showy tower that proclaimed its residents to be a loving couple. She remembered idly wondering how many more people could have been buried in the same space if the family hadn't decided to be ostantateous. She'd picked her way gingerly through the dense foliage, feeling sorry for all the poor souls on whose final resting place she'd stamped on. The weeds were nearly as tall as her at the grave and she stood there silently praying for the souls of her departed ones and for the strength for facing the future.
It was almost a family church, they told her. This is where many of your forefathers lived and were buried. She was never sure if that a badge of honour or something to be resented? She was slightly afraid of going there when there was no service on. Afraid even of making conversation in the lonely silence that breathed of centuries of so-called tradition. It was stifling.
Almost as stifling as sitting inside the house. It was much better standing outside, staring at the courtyard. The porch was as she remembered it. An insect bit her, not an unusual happening at all here. The 'muttam' was swept clear of all leaves and the sand was clean. The vines were climbing up the pillars. The bamboo grew sturdy and strong by the waterside, and there was that small chair in the corner as usual. Her dad's. Another baby of the family, she remembered, laughing slightly. The one who got into the most unholy scraps and the one who always strived the hardest: the daredevil of the family. She'd inherited all the traits in equal measure. Her mother used to wonder out aloud what exactly the Fates had done by making her a girl.
There were other kids here: her little nieces and nephews. She particularly didn't want to meet them, then she couldn't let her mind wander. But her uncle had other ideas. He went and woke them up.
"Get up, babies, look who's here? See this chechi. Do you remember her?"
She corrected mildly, "Not chechi, aunty."
"Oh. Yeah, we forgot the baby has grown up so much."
"Well, I became 21 when none of you were noticing, Uncle." she smiled sweetly.
The kids stared resentfully at her, yawning and rubbing their sleep out of their eyes. "No, little ones, I am not invading your space. In fact, I was always a visitor here." she told them silently.
"Kiss chechi, kutta," her uncle wanted to show off his grand-daughters. She obediently turned a cheek to the toddler who bumped her nose against it.
"No. no, you can do better."
She hurriedly got up and cast a significant look at her mother, "No, no, Uncle. We have to go. We're going home and we won't get there unless we leave now."
Her mother got up from the sofa, smiling. "Well, then. We'll see you later."
The final byes were exchanged, with hugs and promises to come again next year. She smiled at her cousin and hugged her tight for old time's sake. "You take care, chechi and say hi to your husband. I'll see if I can come for George achachan's wedding, whenever he finds a suitable girl. It'll be like old times again."
They sat in the car and waved again, preparatory to leaving Suddenly, her uncle ran out. "You forgot to pay the servants."
Her mother rolled the windows down and asked softly, "How much?"
Her father's elder brother smiled ingratiatingly again, "Whatever you can afford. You know you only come once a year, and from the city too..."
Her mother silently handed over a wad of notes, rolled up the windows and she took the car out of the back courtyard and into the narrow alley leading to freedom.
"This needs to be written about. Maybe on my blog," was her last thought before her mother started talking about their next destination.

Dr. ShrutzLove or How I Learnt to Stop Obsessing and Love the Notebook

2006-05-28T09:17:00.000-07:00

First of all, a loud sorry to all those AMD fans whose hearts I will be breaking by talking about my choice in laptops.

Whoops! Did I break the suspense? No, that's right. I did not get a Turion. Okay, I am hearing the muffled oaths and loud sighs from that camp there.
Don't GO! Hmph. If you're that angry, go ahead. But don't come back complaining that you didn't hear the end of this story. There's only THIS much I can do, right?

Now, to the rest of you, I am assuming I am talking to Intel/PowerPC fans, or you're neutral about it, or as clueless as a friend of mine who asked, "Shrutz, what exactly is a notebook?" (No, I did not point her to a stationary shop, it took me a good part of half an hour to explain what little I knew.)
Around this time, last year, I'd changed my desktop from an HP Pavilion to an assembled li'l beauty. Ahem. Not too many concurred. I almost had hate mails from all the friends I did not call before I made the decision to buy an Intel-256MB RAM-80 GB etc computer.
I am kinda bemused, really and decided to make a huge ruckus the next time I had to buy a computer.

My chance came sooner rather than later.

In the post arrived my offer letter from IIM, Bangalore with a note appended. Briefly summarised, the note said, "Psst. Our hallowed campus has WiFi." (Yes! Mortals! Eat our dust. We stay connected in the MESS!)
"You need a wireless card/Centrino processor when you arrive on Campus. Choose your own WMD or our systems club will find you one." (Get a good notebook, we don't want idiots wearing our jackets to be carrying around some monstrosity of a PC .)

Hmm. Interesting choice to make. Suddenly, the air was buzzing with the expectancy of wannabe B-schoolers asking that inevitable question, "Will I be caught dead lugging THAT lunk of metal around?"
Sigma or self?
I settled down to ogle some serious booty, ahem, notebooks.

I can't BELIEVE the price of onions nowadays! Okay, maybe that's fodder for another post. Yeah, I can't BELIEVE the prices of laptops nowadays!

Without wasting any time, I'd started browsing the Dell, the Sony, the HP and the Compaq sites. Everyone on my Yahoo messenger was pinged with that inevitable question, "So, which one?".

Many, many MANY chat windows later, I was left with a list of prerogatives.
1) Configuration. (Like DUH!)
2) The lighter the better
3) BUDGET!
4) Looks. (Hey, I AM a girl!)
Which is when mom told me, "Ask your brother-in-law."

The Dells were looking seriously viable (especially for my moolah) and so I sent some configurations over to him with a mail that said, "I think the Dell is a good computer for me." Now, BIL was in the U.S at that time and the Dells are really cheap there.
Pat comes the reply, "Kiddo, you don't have international warranty here. I am not a fan of the Dell."
I sat and wept for 10 minutes for my poor innocent achachan who never wants me to use hacked software. (Uhm, is Big Brother watching?)

And, I went back to configuring laptops online. On an aside, it's a seriously entertaining pastime! I saw a very good-looking Sony Vaio that was canned by the users in C-NET.
The whole injustice of life prompted me to write an SMS to another B-school wannabe.
"I think I am in love. But, he's a good for nothing. All looks, no substance. Sigh. Why are the good lookers always like this?!"
Before I could get some soothing replies, I added, "He comes in Raspberry RED! Sigh, whatta laptop. What a waste."

A week later, achachan was ensonced safely at home in Singapore and sent me some more links to laptops.
The ostensible excuse for the torture was given by chechi, "We just want you to check everything out."
I blabbered incoherently, "I see the sugarplum fairy dance on my shoulder with a laptop in her hand. PLEASE don't make me do this anymore... Pretty please with a cherry on top!"
I was bawling....

Which is when I saw...... HIM.
The Apple Macbook. 13.1 inches of pristine white perfection, Intel Duo processor, the bells and whistles, boots in Windows (tm) . I nearly fell to my knees and wept for sheer joy.
Which is when they reminded me, "You really don't want to use pirated software anymore?"
I blathered, "But... so...pretty... so...good... config...I am in true love."
I am serious, people nearly had to pry my fingers loose of the mouse button. I was spending time staring at the Apple and rotating it 360 degrees, ogling at its neat little touchpad and it's grey keyboard.

True to his promise, achachan sent yet some more links and added in the mail, "Why not a Lenovo?"
Uhm, surely why not?? They are good. So, off I went to check the Lenovos and nearly had an aneurism on the spot. Never was a website closed with such haste.
Toshiba, Shruti?
Cool laptops, no moolah...

Achachan phoned me one day, "So, what do you think?"
I croaked out, "The Apple..."
"Yeah, but the Mac OS, Shruti."
I was staring at my Firefox open on the Apple website.
"Well, Shruti, you won't be able to use your software, like IE."
I was insulted, "I use FIREFOX!"
He decided it was better he changed the subject.
Achachan said again, "I think the Vaios are cool."
"I think the Vaios are expensive."
Long silence at the other end of the line.
"You must understand you will be using it only for two years."
I nodded my head fervently, unfortunately he couldn't see.
"So, what do YOU want from a system?"
"A good configuration, if only to keep the hounds of hell off my poor back."
He considered, "So, it must be robust."
"Uhuh. I won't drop it."
Achachan knows me very well and I am pretty sure he suspects that I might. My grace of motion is very well known in the family.
"You will get another laptop in 2 years."
"Yeah, but this is an important decision." Chechi interupted
I mumbled, "Yeah, like marriage."
Chechi burst out into laughter, while achachan coolly interjected, "Unlike marriage, this one isn't forever."
Touche!

I got a mail the next day, "I think the Dell is a good computer for you."

Two days, 20 mails, a million laptops and a gazillion configurations later, I was the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron 640M with about the same specifications I had decided on three weeks ago.

Later that day, Sigma puts up their configurations...
The vendor? Dell.
Some things are always meant to be.

Viva Dell & B-schools. Cheers!

PS: To all the hounds of hell (you know who you are), the Blogger has decided on a T2400 (1.83 GHz) Intel Centrino Duo processor with 1 GB RAM, a 80 GB 5400 rpm hard disk, a dual layer 8x DVD R/W, 14.1' Tru-Life screen on a Dell Inspiron 640M with a wireless mouse. You shall kindly keep off her back, since, as you can see, the configuration is FAH-bulous.

Sigma, our Systems Club, is getting Dell Latitude D520s and D620s.

In case I forgot to mention it, yeah, I am off to IIM, Bangalore on the 24th of June, laptop in hand. Maybe, I ought to warn the poor souls there.....

My Funny Blog Post

2006-05-15T21:01:00.000-07:00

Lounging around at home for the past 3 weeks already and I got this stern injunction on my Y! messenger from a collegemate, "Write a FUNNY blog. You've have been becoming longer and drearier everyday and I don't read it anymore."
WHAT? My readers are deserting me? This can't be allowed to happen!! Something must be done. Yeah, now all I need to do is write a funny post. That's simple enough; I've made a blog out of it for almost 2 years, nah?
So, here I am. Sitting in front of my computer, wondering what the hell I have to be funny about today.

Okay. Humour seems to have deserted me for the moment.
But watch this space... FOR THE FUNNY BLOG POST!!!

CGPU Chronicles.

2006-05-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

CGPU, the Career Guidance & Placement Unit of the College of Engineering, Trivandrum. The place made of gossamer dreams and concrete walls, the mystical land of opportunity, where students enter quivering and come out into the adult world.

We were the proud flag-bearers for the CGPU, the batch of 2002-06.
The torch has been passed, and what's left are the bitter-sweet memories of the last year, locked up in the treasure trove of the past.

In some ways, I want to inform my juniors what is in store for them, both as representatives and students. Because, well, the responsibility of the CGPU is on every student alike.

The first rule of the CGPU: You DON'T talk about the CGPU... Okay, just kidding! Yeah, it was a lot of work. A lot of late nights, and later work, Excel spreadsheets (which I take great pride in updating) and the rolling numbers, loads of bugging students and staff alike, but as the time went by, the joy in the work grew.
The actual first rule ought to be: You're not working for your class, you're working for the college. 3 days into the process, the divisions of Electronics, Mechanical, Electrical etc disappear. What's left behind is this thought, "How the hell are we going to place the rest of the students in my college?"
The sooner the thought crosses your mind, the more pride you take in your college and your small part in it, and the more seriously you will take your responsibilities.
The second rule is, of course, you will enjoy yourself. Trust me, you'll miss the days that there are no companies on campus and the days that you can't meet the others.
One of the questions a senior asked me (bless her!) when I told her I was the placement rep whilst preparing for CAT was, "Shruti, are you sure you can handle it?". Actually, I am not even sure how the year would have panned out without this huge bright spot of joy in my life.
I am going to remark about how I saw one of my friends cry for joy when he got placed. He was calling up his parents, his grandparents, his neighbours, his... well, you get the drift. Of course, I was there to lend him moral support in the form of pulling his specs off, laughing at him and then blackmailing him. :D
Well, what can I say? I am heartless... But, children, you don't be! The euphoria of seeing 100-odd people get their jobs is something that can never be replicated.
No, working for the CGPU is not a piece of cake. You'll learn about what makes people tick, you'll be under a lot of mental and emotional stress for some days, but you will come through all of it. You will be the stronger for all of it.
But... (and this is most significant)... BUT, you'll need to be true to yourself and your work.
Please take on responsibility only if you think you will carry it on whole-heartedly. And, this is a lesson for life.

Okay, enough of the dreary talk.
I had a blast, guys....
Thanks for all the fun.
Love
Shruti

This post is dedicated to those awesome friends I made, Samson sir, KK, Vinod sir & yeah, Lallu, Balu, Ashok, Tina & Tina for being our mentors.
The CGPU rocks!
All the best to our juniors with their placements and their lives!

The First Rains

2006-04-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

The first droplets of water splattered the dusty ground. The smell of the first rains lay heavy in the air around as the heavens showered their blessings on the parched earth.
In one of the innumerable apartment complexes of a grimy city far removed from the mundane pleasures of life, sat a little girl. By the window. With her chin on the ledge, her eyes closed and all her senses picking up the heady essence of the first rains.
Her mother looked at her fondly and thought briefly about the joys afforded to the young before they became old, worldly-wise and callous.
The feeling passed.
She went and patted the little child on her head and asked her to come for dinner.
The girl rose and searched for her white cane.

I sometimes get a picture so clearly in my mind that even putting it down on paper only serves to show that I can't write as well as I can see...
Here, the picture that sprang to mind was that of the last line. Somehow the rains coupled with a nasty bout of the flu has made me, for the want of a better word, contrary. Anyway, this is the result of lying awake at night, THINKING...
(I really got to stop doing that!)

A Li'l Update at an Unearthly Hour!

2006-04-12T01:33:00.000-07:00

IIMC Results out on the midnight of 12th March, (how precise!)... Got through both PGDM and PGDCM. The link page is beautiful and oddly satisfying.
I am loving it :)

Update #2 : IIMs B and L final converts. K on waitlist (ooh, I hate those wascally wabbits!)

Update #3: IIMI final convert....

So, ends the saga, that started around 8 months ago.....
Final Calls: B,C,L,I,K, SPJIMR calls.
Converts: (skipped SPJ) B,C,L,I and 0.5 K!
Not too shabby.

B-Stung: A Mad Tea Party

2006-04-08T10:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know there's no use of me posting my IIMB experience... because, well, IIMB PIs are over.
Nevertheless, for all those who follow in our footsteps and wondered "Hmm, wonder how IIMB PI treated Shrutz?" (Hoping there will be some!), here's my misadventure chronicled in great detail.
Yeah, this is Shrutz in IIM-B. Hang on to your seats, people, this is a wild ride!

Yeah, I hope you fellas know the yada-yadas.

Profile
A poor little fresher from College of Engineering, Trivandrum doing her 4th year Applied Electronics & Instrumentation. (you will see why)
Marks upto S6: 84.42%
Xth: 87.6% (438/500) CBSE
XIIth: 95% (475/500) CBSE
What other info did I put in the SoP? Hmm.. family background, hobbies (unusual by the violin thing I keep getting asked on), extra-currics, good organisational thingies (yeah, that's how I speak, thanks for asking), strong co-currics, good acad record.
Why MBA? Same ol' crap.... Oh come ON, aren't I just a fresher?

I got there bright and early for a 2 o'clock GD on 4th April at 12:30 pm and flashed my customary 29 teeth (too much info, do we ask?) Our panel had 5 people, because one guy decided to skip the Gee-Dee, Pee-Eye process at Bee.
GD was a case study. Went on these lines.
The case was about the 'BAT', the Biomedical Aptitude Test, conducted by the 10 IIBs *ahem* for admission into their institutes. A not-for-profit organisation called the BES with 25 employees is in charge of conducting the test, processing applications and generating score-cards. The integrity of the test depends upon these staff. This year the test had 1 lakh takers and for the past 3 years the numbers have been increasing at 12% per annum. Prof Mani, in charge of this body, is in a dilemma. Without upgradation of the facilities, the test will be impossible to conduct. So, he has 2 options in front of him...
1) A 15 lakh low technology upgrade that will be easy to get approved by the Board of Directors of the IIBs, will enable him to keep the staff with a little training, be able to process 2 lakh applications.
2) A 1 crore technology-specific upgrade that will cut the staff to 5, enable the BES to process 3 lakh applications, pay itself off in the way of salaries by 4 years, but well, is expensive.
Anyway, a rather self-evident case, nevertheless, we had to discuss it.
I began the GD (well, a very chivalrous guy let me)
Everyone let the others speak and well too... Do the maths, 15 minutes and 5 people. We had periods of silence in the middle when everyone was staring at the paper with nothing to say. Repetition of points was rampant and we couldn't conclude satisfactorily.
Not a very good GD, I summarised okay.
I was last into the GD, so the two panellists grinned at me after informing us that the PIs would be in order and would be around 20 minutes each, so if we wanted to go out and refresh ourselves, we could. They added (to me) "You're going to have the benefit of most of the information. You're the lucky one."
I could only weakly grin back.

PI Experience...
It was around 5, when I was called in. The person in front of me was the only other fresher and was asked about npn & pnp transistors, and I was explaining about it very enthusiastically when the two panellists left for a refresher and told me to wait (again with a wide smile)
After 5 minutes, they came back and went into the room, M13, without a word. Sometime later, the lady popped her head out the door and motioned me, the poor little sacrificial lamb...
Well then, I got in.
I had scarcely taken 2 steps in when the gentleman Moorthy (GM) said "So, Susan, I hope you talked to all of them."
"Good evening sir, yes I did." I nearly sat down before I remembered and got up.
He looked up and asked me to sit. Meanwhile the Lady Moorthy (LM) also sat down.
With a grin he asked me, "So, what questions do you expect here?"
"Uhm, sir nothing really." I was trying hard to evade the question.
"Oh, come on Susan, you've talked to the people in front. What did they say?"
"Well, sir the person who came in front of me had a similar background. You asked him acads. To the others, you asked general questions."
"Okay, so what do you expect?"
I smiled.
"Susan, you have to expect something!"
I decided to be slightly flippant. "Well sir, if I did tell you what I expected, you wouldn't ask me those questions. That would imply what happened here would not be what I expected anyway."
He smiled and nodded his head yes. "Anyway, tell us what you expect!"
If that's what he wanted so badly, I'd give it to him. "Okay, sir. Acads"
"What in acads?"
"Uhm, Electronics."
"What in electronics?"
(Why does this feel like a kiddy-game?)
"Circuits?" I shrugged.
"What in that?"
"Digital Electronics."
"What in Digital?"
"Sir. Generally Digital Electronics"
"Come on, I can't ask you generally anything or the definition. You have to tell me something specific"
"Well sir, digital circuits, say counters, gates that sort of thing"
He smiled (GAH) and said "Okay, Susan. So tell me...."

*LONG PAUSE PURPOSELY INSERTED TO LET YOU KNOW HOW BUGGED I GOT AFTER THIS*

"...What is Instrumentation?"
I must have looked like one of the most surprised girls this side of the Nilgiris. "Okay, sir. Well, Instrumentation is a branch of engineering that deals with measurements and measuring instruments, control systems. We have subjects like Transducers, Sensor Systems, Digital Instrumentation Techniques..."
"Okay, tell me what are the requisites of a good instrument?"
I blabbered the usual.
"No, that's with respect to the gauge. I want a basic detail."
I talked about hysterisis, creep et al.
"Have you heard of the principle that a measuring instrument shouldn't interfere with the measure quantity"
Realisation dawned, too late. "Yessir."
"Can you give me an example?"
I gave him one about a voltmeter.
"No, that's a text-bookish example. Give me a practical one."
I looked up, thought hard and shook my head.
"Okay, you talked about calibration. What is that?"
"Well, sir, standardisation of an instrument is called calibration. There are 2 kinds of calibrations and 3 kinds of instruments..." I went on to explain the different kinds. (Don't wince, Instrumentation is the least favourite of my subjects...)
He looked satisfied and grinned again. By now, I was wise to his smiles & wiles. "If I calibrate an instrument, is it for life?"
"Nossir, you might need to recalibrate owing to aging of components or the creep, stress and strain effects."
"Okay. So, how do you judge which of two instruments is better after a while."
"Sir, assuming they are similar and calibrated the same, the one that shows the least aging and debilitating effects."
"Are all scales linear?"
"No sir, they can be linear or non-linear depending on measuring quantity and measurand. For example, when you are measuring pressure with displacement."
"When are they non-linear?"
"Sir, when the characteristics are non linear or over a large range."
"Give me an example."
"Sir, for a black body, wavelength radiated is proportional to the fourth power of temperature. This is a non-linear measurement."
"Is the scale non-linear?"
"Sir, we can make the scale linear"
"Is this done by the design engineer? How?"
"Sir, by manipulation of variables."
His eyebrows shot up. "WHAT? I am asking a professional, Susan."
Whoops! "Sir, what I meant is processing of variables."
He almost looked ready to laugh. "When does a designer make a scale non-linear?"
"Uhm, when the range to be measured is very large?"
"Okay, let me give you an example. Have you seen a speedometer?"
"Yessir."
"You know how it works?"
"No sir" I grinned back.
"You have seen it surely. Is it linear or non-linear?"
"Linear, sir."
"When does a designer make it non-linear?"
"Well, sir, I guess it should be when the range is very large. For normal vehicles, the speed range is limited. So, for vehicles like rockets and aeroplanes, it might be non-linear."
He didn't look convinced. "Okay, what's the average speed of a vehicle on Indian roads?"
Wow! From Design Engineer to Civil Engineer, I have gone places.
"I guess 45?"
"45 what?"
HUH? "45 kmph"
"What kind of vehicle is that? A two-wheeler, truck, what?"
"A normal car, sir."
He repeated that "A normal car...."
All of a sudden he shook off whatever he was thinking and smiled again. (Alarm bells rang out, the earth shook, whatEVER!) "So, Susan"
I was almost tempted to remind him that my parents had named me something else, anyway, I let it slide...
"You said that Prof. Mani must make the decision palatable to the Board. What does that mean?"
(Uhm, sir, they might have digestion problems worth a crore?)"Basically, sir, the 1 crore deal might be too much for the board to swallow in one go, so Mr. err.. Prof. Mani has to point out the advantages and disadvantages to the board."
He did not look convinced.
"Okay, tell me what are the criteria to be used by the board to judge the effectiveness of any decision?"
"Uhm, with respect to the GD, sir?"
"Okay"
I talked about the pros and cons of each option and weighed them, and also didn't commit either way.
After he heard me out, he asked again, "So, what is the disadvantage of the second option?"
"Mainly the high initial investment."
"Susan, may I ask you a personal question. You may or may not answer it..."
"Sure, sir". I looked slightly startled, I am sure.
"You're going to do an MBA from an IIM, where the initial investment will be high; to the tune of 3 lakhs or so. So, will your parents say 'That's too high, go for a job'?"
"No sir"
"Why not?"
"Sir, because it has a high return of investment"
"Very good. Now answer the question. What will the board look at? How can they be convinced?"
"Sir, the second option has a high return of investment, low payback period, more efficiency, processing capacity."
"How can you quantify efficiency?"
"Sir, you want quantified results?"
He smiled and didn't say anything.
"Well, sir, we could look at processing cost per application. Pass the extra cost over to the application cost. Speed of processing for technology specific procedures."
"Okay, suppose you are running a hospital and want to buy a new X-ray machine. What are the criteria used to judge whether you need to buy one?"
I must have looked very confused, because he added, "Will the hospital administrator look at overall costs in the year or cost per X-ray?"
Well, my thought processes went that the hospital administrator needed to look at overall costs, since he needed an overall view, "The former, sir."
"Are you sure? What about patient welfare?"
Okay. That was seriously mean.. "Yessir."
"Now, what will the board look at?"
"Speed of processing."
"Susan, suppose you wrote the CAT and we gave you the results the same day. Not accurate results, just anyhow.."
"Sir, you need accurate results in the minimum amount of time."
"What about the staff?"
"With minimum amount of staff working to ensure integrity."
"How many staff would be employed with the 2 options?"
"25 for the first and 5 for the second."
"Which is the better option?"
*sigh* "The second, sir"
"Why didn't you say that before?"
I looked incredulous.
"Okay, suppose you do take the second option, how would you tackle the laid off staff?"
I opened my mouth to answer when he interrupted, "Someone suggested relocating them into other jobs in the IIBs."
"Sir, that was my idea. Relocating them would stop them from striking."
"Yeah, maybe, but they might still be unhappy because they were taken from confidential jobs to normal boring administrative jobs.."
Hmm, how can we put this delicately... "Okay, sir we have to look at relocation viz-a-viz a raise in salaries."
He laughed, "So, you're planning to pay them off?"
I reciprocated with the laugh, "Technically, yes sir."
He looked at the Lady Moorthy, who had been busy flipping through my form and recos till now. "Do you have any questions?"
She smiled as well. (ARGH!)
"Well, you're still in college. Are you placed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She waited.
"Infosys & IBM-hardware"
"IBM Hardware?"
"Yes, ma'am. E&TS, in Bangalore, they're the hardware arm."
"So, why are you going for an MBA now?"
"Ma'am, in the IT sector or hardware jobs, we're told to think in a straight line, a linear fashion, with no deviation from the norm. I perform best while thinking creatively and problem solving."
She kept nodding like I was talking a lot of sense. I did not like the look of it.
"So, what kind of job would you like after an MBA?"
"Ma'am, I'd like to see where my talents lay after 2 years and decide and not decide in a hurry."
"But I am sure you know what companies come on campus."
I smiled and nodded my head.
"Tell me your dream company."
I was trying to avoid the question, because it would open a can of worms, so again I repeated the answer.
"Okay, a dream field?"
"Not really, ma'am."
"Where do you think your talents would be most utilised?"
I was quited tired of it, "Uhm, Advertising, I guess."
She looked very literally SHOCKED. And I admit, I was biting my tongue then.
"Why?"
"Well, ma'am not the exact copy-writing, but an overall perspective. It'd be satisfying to my creative impulses. Anyway, any job that lets me do writing in my spare time (hah!) would be good!"
She almost laughed out loud. "You do know there are institutes that offer such degrees even an MBA?"
"Yes, ma'am"
"Which one?"
I sighed, "MICA"
They grinned sardonically at me.
"Did you apply?"
"No, ma'am"
"So why IIM?"
"Because they're the best!"
"You know such companies don't come here."
"Yes ma'am, but getting a job there wouldn't be hard."
"Name some advertising companies." She had delivered her ace.
"JWT.."
"HUH?"
"J Walter Thomson, Ogilvy India."
Now, I wanted to get out in a hurry!
GM looked at LM and asked, again with a grin, "Any questions, Susan?"
I shrugged and nodded my head first, then changed my mind, "When will the results be out, sir?"
I am sure they thought "As if that matters to YOU. Bahaha"
"Month-end."
"Thank you sir."
"Bye, Susan"
"Bye, sir, ma'am"

*sigh*

To B, or not to B...

2006-04-05T12:25:00.000-07:00

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
-Hamlet, William Shakespeare

Yeah, officially, my GD/PI season is over for 2006.
Here's a quick recap for those of you with a short memory span (which, knowing my readers as well as I do, is EVERYONE!)

13th Februrary, 2006:
IIM Kozhikode
GD: Average, started the GD, because everyone was equally blank on the given paper.
PI: Average, HR mixed with lot of human-interest angles.

22nd February, 2006:
IIM Lucknow
GD: Very good, gave good points. The topic was a li'l weird!
PI: Semi-stress where I wasn't allowed to complete sentences. Horrible experience chronicled earlier.

4th March, 2006:
IIM Indore
GD: HR based Case Study, where I spent most of my time waving my points goodbye as they went whizzing by.
GD was again average.
PI: Was feel-good, as long as I was in the room. In the cold light of day, not quite. I have realised the points in the process when the 2 professors were trying to psyche me out, including "What do you know about IIM-I's placements?" & the pseudo-spot offer!

13th March, 2006:
IIM Calcutta
GD: "Man is an Island." Average to good. Spoke a bit, not too much, but was able to speak clearly enough.
PI: About time for luck to turn Shrutz's way; this PI was excellent. Totally subjective, of course, but I enjoyed the process!

4th April, 2006:
IIM Bangalore
GD: Case study again, with a panel of 5 people, I talked enough! I think the others had enough anyway. Weird bits of silence dominated in the discussion when everyone kept staring at the paper in front of them!
GD would again be good to average, we didn't come to a conclusion.
The summary I wrote was in the usual way, average enough.
PI: Killing me softly with their smiles. I am happy to report, of the three people in the room, 2 of us enjoyed the process.
Of course, they were the interviewers. The questions ranged from the average speed of Indian vehicles on the road to return of investment, my expectations of the PI and all the way to instrumentation, my bugbear.
They were laughing at (not with) me!
Not entirely sure what the exercise proved, other than to reaffirm the well known fact I need to think (a LOT) before I speak!!
PI was energy packed, but pointless.

Anyways, ol' Will here sure knew his stuff, right?
After 50 days of jetting to and fro Bangalore in all modes of conveyance, my mind's suddenly reached a grinding halt.
It's been a roller-coaster ride of sorts, and has seen bouts of motion sickness even.
Here's an honest opinion: The entire CAT-IIM-GD-PI process is highly disruptive. From the time, around September 2005, I had decided to at least give a cursory look at DI and QA to yesterday, I haven't really paid much attention to other things happening in life.
Will it be worth it? Time alone knows. (Yeah, and not TIME either)
I seem to have lost the verve that marked the outset of the endeavours. What has replaced it, is in a way, fatalism. I keep repeating "I don't know" & "I don't care" at regular intervals.
Both are, of course, not true.

To sleep, perchance to dream.....
Time will tell....

Demo Week: Let's See How Low We Can Go.

2006-03-30T11:35:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Aswin for giving me the inspiration to finally post about the Demo Week.
The Stupid FAQ Section About the Demo Week!

1) What is Demo Week?
To know what Demo Week is about, you must be a final year student with OODLES of time on his hands. There are no classes to speak of, and during the time we sit around swatting flies, we decide to go back to our childhood days. Demo Week is a long standing CET tradition, wherein the final year students spend most of their lunch breaks walking around the college wearing the most outlandish costumes possible, complete with war cries and random cries of "Yeeha, Jai bolo S8 ki." We relieve our boredom (and our sore throats) by then asking the juniors to do that. Meanwhile, we also take pictures! ;)

2) Okay, so why is it so relevant?
Ask a starving man would he like a chappathi, would you? Don't be silly. As a CETian what he would like to do before he leaves college, and chances are he will say, "Dress up as a Pandi and dance Appadi pode pode.. " or even "Wear my school uniform and hold a balloon." But, CETians love Demo Week for two reasons, depending on which year you are in..

As a junior, you suddenly realise that your seniors are all MAD. Yes, even the sedate and staid ones. It's fun to see them cavorting around with all the gay abandon of small toddlers playing dress-up.
As a senior, imagine the joy to accost an unsuspecting junior and drop the day's hottest joke/leg pulling opportunity on them. Don't get us poor senior CETians wrong, but since ragging is banned on campus, the final week is a pressure valve where guys talk up the pretty junior girls and senior girls generally can make a nuisance of themselves. Then, of course, there's the charm of doing things you have never done before and look like nothing on earth.

3) So, enough of talk. Where are the stupid pictures already?
Okay, okay. They are coming up, in order...

Black Day
Pandi Day
Cross-Dress Day
Goonda Day

Demo week online ;)

Me, Divya and Divyasree, after the first face-painting exercise. This started off with me being the first guinea pig and the chosen medium of eye-liner and graduated to black and silver paint and the whole of the Department with blackened (and silvered) faces!

Aravind, Shinu, Sreekanth and Sidharth: The Royal Mexx. As evidenced by the Jolly Roger!

Senior Spirit shows! In the classes... terrorising the masses.

Tele getting their kicks! Notice ol' Half Face there!

The Super-Zeros?

In the Quest for the Archees!

The Pirate of Trivandrum, Mech Rani, Tina.

'Black' Amal, she hits you and shouts unspeakable obscenities (or would have if her character could talk, mind you!) when you pull her walking stick!

Bibu, Abhilash and Juny: the aftermath.

The Tele Dept. Pandi guys, with the ORIGINAL pandi! The construction workers from Tamil Nadu had a nice laugh at our expense ;)Mix-N-Match Panditharam. A Kaleidoscope of colour!
Can you get more Pandi than this? The Mexx with Thomas, Sreekanth & Mathai ;)
"Yennada, macha, Soukham aa?" Pardon my Tamizh.
The two most pandi females in the Lobby at 12:45 pm: Reshmi & I.
Pandis in the Main Block, "S8 vazhuga!"

The machans are going to town!!
Argh. I am going BLIND. Anand & Arjun Kye Vee Pandis.
Ram looks normal enough, doesn't he? With Pandi Vineeth...

Juny's Pandi avataar in the Civil Dept.

Madhavan, Renjith, The-very-pretty-Sunoop and Surej in front of S8 Tele.
Fazal (with her hair in a towel, I dream of Jeannie?) & Shoaib-the Fountainhead.The beautiful Praveen & Leslie, the Ladies' (?) Man. Leslie was enjoying the attention being showered on him.
Yeah, there was a cat-fight some moments prior to this, when Miss. Abubacker triumphed over Miss. Rajashekar, thereby effectively proving the statement, "Size does not matter."
And you know what they say, to the victors belong the spoils ;) Cameras were clicking away to posterity!
Mr. Mangal Pandey, Soumya of Electrical & Reshmi.
Gowri & Ashwin(i) in the Main Block. Aswin was hurrying along like a chased chicken to avoid photo-ops :D
The very gorgeous Samantha Wesley with her classmates, one of whom was heard to remark, "I never knew there were such pretty girls on this campus." Yeah, Mathew, you never had to leave the Mech Dept, you could have been so happy. Ah well!... Life moves on, even with Samantha.
We did come prepared to cross-dress, but unforeseen circumstances stalled the proceedings. So, here are the Tele & Applied girls with Shoaib.

Vimitha decides to get tough with Shoaib. Divya can't stop smiling. The SADIST.
Showing off our manly.... SHOES. Vimz, me and Rekhila.

Panyan & his(?) goonda.. Vimz & AshokShoaib's unclear of whether it's Goonda or Pandi Day, seen pataofying Reshmi'Vaastav' Sandeep S: True Goonda Style
The Tele Goondas outside the Department
Namith's gone to the Dark Side
Sunoop getting hafta from a poor junior....
Panyan's goondas do it again
The Gangster & his Moll

Let's C How Many Smilies Lie Ahead

2006-03-25T17:52:00.000-08:00

11th March, 4:00pm

There are reasons why flights don't land at the Bangalore HAL airport. One reason could be that a Deccan Airways ATR is sitting smack in the middle of the runway. And I have to write IIM-C's Aptitude Test for Mathematics on 12th March at IIM-B.
Fortunately, I was already in Bangalore!

24 hours ago, Trivandrum
Mom: "I don't know why we have to go to Bangalore two days early."
Me: "Uhuh. Humour me, please, Mom! This is important. It could even affect my performance, you know!"
Mom: "Bags me window seat."
Me: (whining) "That's unfair! You took it last time we came and that was because of turbulence and all, you made that an excuse! NOOOO, I want the window seat! Mommmyy!"
Mom: (backing off) "Sheesh, have it your way, kid!"

Present, somewhere in Bangalore's famous malls
Mom: "Flights are being delayed or cancelled!"
Me: "Bahahaha. Now buy me a Sony flat-screen television."
Mom: "Would you settle for a cold coffee?"

12th March, 10:30 am, IIM-Bangalore
"Where's PGP Exam Hall-1? Where's PGP Exam Hall-1? Where's PGP Exam Hall-1? ", Muttering to myself, I walked along the long corridors of IIM-Bangalore.

Along the way, we accumulated more people I knew (From previous PIs, PagalGuy or just my random-grin-a-little-we're-both-in-this-together style.), till quite a few of us were gathered around the hall wondering what kind of Maths we were going to be asked.

We didn't have long to wait. At 10:45, we were ushered in to sit in some funny looking wooden chairs that moved when you leaned backwards. With their usual rather blunt way of putting forward things, I was still George Shruti Susan, with a number of 12, and found myself right in front, grinning nervously at the Professor who was pacing to and fro. After sometime, I caught the eye of the only lady professor there and both of us grinned the "Aren't we special women in this room, so how does it feel to be on your side?" conspiratorial smile. Hmm, that really felt good!

The test was good, went well enough. No comments! I then wended my way back to the K block and my room to finish my new favourite book: The Great Indian Novel. Like VV (Ved Vyas) says....

This is my story of the India I know, with its biases, selections, omissions, distortions, all mine. But you cannot derive your cosmogony from a single birth, Ganapathi. Every Indian must forever carry with him, in his head and heart, his own history of India.

We met up in Lakshmi's room and checked out some pictures they took for different occasions. Who says IIM students have no fun? I agree with them too ;). Of course, I am kidding!

We also walked around the campus taking some really pretty pictures. Here are some of my favourites!

Reminded me of The Road Goes On, in The Hobbit (and later in The Lord of the Rings.) Or even Enya's song and in a subtle way, Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening. Of course, there was no snow.

I haven't seen the StoneHenge, but I can't help thinking that the architect must have been inspired by the druids of old.

I remember getting a comment on the blog a long time ago, that effectively said "So many pictures of the world around you. SHAME on you. Where are you in them?" Well, that's me. This is the outside of a lecture hall, I am not sure which one, P block, I think.My favourite picture, just because of the shadows and the sunlight. It looked gorgeous. This is actually the PGP Exam Hall-1. I found out the shortcuts AFTER I had my ATM.

At the end of all this, I also updated my Career Goals (Huh! WHAT goals?) in the form. I love the IIM-C form. Unlike Indore, they had only 4 pages and 2 questions and unlike Lucknow, they had enough space for the two questions they asked, instead of 2 very cramped lines. Also, unlike Bangalore, I didn't have to go and beg every teacher I knew for recommendation letters. Yeah, as far as the forms go, Calcutta and Kozhikode were the best. At least, they didn't want to know if I had any history of mental illness. You see, that's a very subjective question!

13th March, 5 am
I woke up on my own. That's a change from the usual yelling I need before I can wake up. But, seriously, the B campus can get extremely cold. Take my advice, barefoot is not really an option!
By seven, I was seriously fidgeting. If you know the kind of person I am, that's majorly hyperactive. There was a lot of whistling going on, ("SHRUTI, girls don't whistle!", "But, mom, the block is almost empty!"), a lot of pacing and even a lot of staring into the vast distance interpersed with more fidgeting. So... we had breakfast.

By 8:30, I was done, so I pulled out my phi-yulls, mentally laughing at the guy I had met in the IIM-I interview who'd showed up for the PI with a school-bag FULL of certificates. At least mine were docketed and arranged properly. By the way, that guy is worth one whole blog post, I wish I had more time to talk to him. I can still remember the murderous looks being thrown his way, to which he was completely oblivious.

I made my way into the K-block and asked them cheerfully "Hey, so IIM-C, right?"
One wannabe muttered "This is MDI, IIM-C is in M block." No doubt, he must have mentally haved added to himself, "Clueless female. At least get your bearings right. Haha. Let's see the IIM-C folks toast you."
Hmm, maybe I have an overactive imagination! ;) I am often accused of it alright.

Finally, I found the block (ditto as IIM-L) and found my panel number (2). I went upstairs and flashed my best "Hey-so-whaddya-say" grin and got some seriously tired responses.
On an aside, I am amazed at the kind of welcomes I get usually as Shrutz. Yours truly being the rather smile-at-strangers-talk-them-to-death sort, when bored, usually starts talking to the other guinea pigs within 10 minutes of the long interminable wait. Of course, it also helps to be one of very few girls, so people don't mind talking!
"Hey, I am -----"
"Nice to meet you. I am Shruti!"
The reply ranges from "Oh, you are Shrutz from PagalGuy?" to "DAMN, Shrutz, you better shut your mouth during the GD! We'll be keeping a close watch on you."
Okay, that's just dratted unfair. Do you people KNOW how hard it is for me to open my mouth in any GD? I feel like I have been struck dumb most of the time! "Damn, there go my points. Bye bye. Now, I got to think of some OTHER points!"
Meanwhile, people were discussing about West Bengal and different states. Suddenly,
"So, Arundhati Roy is a famous Bengali, right?"
The air suddenly grew chilly. I turned to the offending *shudder* GIRL.
"Oh come ON. She's a MALLU! What do you MEAN by Bengali?"
She cowered under my err.. steely gaze. "Eh, the surname Roy?"
"Excuse me. She's a Mallu christian, from Kottayam. Her mother runs a school there." I was very near pulling my hair and yelling "MALLU PRIDE!"
It's another fact that I spent most of my time laughing at The God of Small Things. Sample: Young Man. On a Caravan. Boom Boom. I mean WTH? Are we brain dead here? For Pete's sake.Okay, maybe she was slightly better than Midnight's Children, but STILL! I don't think I learn from past mistakes, though. I have The English Patient and The Everest Hotel right now, and have to finish them. I am not entirely sure what's up with Booker Prize Winners, India and entirely obscure stories. Or maybe, I am not sufficiently literary enough to appreciate nursery rhymes or subjective mythology in a novel. Maybe, I ought to stick to the known devils rather than the unknown angels. Maybe, I ought to keep my opinions to myself....
Suddenly, another question, "So, who's the CM of Kerala? Some Oommen Chandy?"
The pronounciation was atrocious and I burst out laughing. The rest of the time was spent talking about UTs and states and politics in general.

Out came a very tall, slightly pink and hairless man,the Alumnus. He started calling us in. George (etc) came last in. Oh just great. First day, first GD, last PI, my worst nightmare. The ten of us were shepherded into the room and seated around (again a nightmare) a rectangular table. And I was at one end. Just GREAT!

GD topic: Man is an island.
It was announced by a short professor with a very good accent. Looked like a Bong to me (Later investigations proved that I was very stupid to assume things like that ;)) The third professor was seated in one corner with a notepad he was scribbling in.
By and far, the most chaotic GD I have been in. I couldn't put a word in edgewise till 3 minutes into the whole process, I raised my voice a bit and went ahead, over the points of three others. Suddenly there was pin drop silence, which was weird. I stated my point and again sat back while the mayhem continued.
Then again, "Islands are sometimes built from destruction, like volcanoes and earthquakes." I was again talking to 9 very silent boys, which I felt was rather amusing. I began to have fun, interrupting the heated debates at one or two points, saying anything that came into my head and then letting the guys take over the point and thrash it out. The points weren't too bad, but overall not a very satisfying GD.
We were then asked to talk for a minute, extempore. I am very good as BSing on the spot. :) So, that was okay!
Mood after GD: What the HECK?

Once, we got out, we were told Panel #3 had "No man is an island", which is a line from a poem. Google tells me the poem is "Meditations XVII", by John Donne.

....No man is an island, entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main...
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved with mankind,
And therefore, never send to know,
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

Oh well, two famous lines in a single poem, and I didn't know the poem or the poet. Whither goest thou, Shrutz? :(

Around me, Panel#2 started going from 45 minute interviews to 10 minutes, as time passed, till I was the only person left (and 2 more from Panel#3) At around 1 pm, when I am sure their tummies were rumbling ;), I was called in. Panelist #1 came out and held the door open (second time I was given the royal treatment!) and I went in and wished everyone...
"Good morning!"
"Good afternoon, Shruti." said Panelist#2.
I nearly winced, but flashed a big smile at him (he was the alumnus). I sat down and look around with what I hoped was a very interested look on my face. P1 decided he had enough of my smile already! :D
"So, Shruti. Did your gender give you an advantage for the GD?"
Since I had been enjoying the experience thus far, I decided to be honest. "I actually found that it did, sir."
"And why is that?"
"Well, sir, initially, I had a hard time being heard over everyone's voices because all the guys were quite loud. But the moment I was heard, they gave me their entire attention."
He smiled a delibrate smile, "So, Did they always listen to you?"
"In fact, yes sir."
"So, you're telling me they didn't always listen to each other?"
Oh crap. The honesty thing isn't exactly working out, is it? I gave him a huge smile and told him, "Frankly, no sir."
"So, did YOU listen to them?"
An emphatic "Yessir!"
"So, when you were asked to talk for one minute after the GD, why didn't you summarise?"
I schooled my features to look slightly puzzled, "Well, sir, you didn't ask me to?"
"Yeah, we didn't ask for a summary."
I continued, "But, I did use other people's points in my speech!"
He decided to change tacks, "What is the one quality most successful managers have?"
I was frankly blindsided by the sudden change in subject and groped around going all the way from organisational abilities to leadership skills till I came to one skill I could say I had in some measure, "Well, sir, they ought to be able to gauge an argument or a problem from many viewpoints, understand the strengths and weaknesses." I went on till finally I finished weakly, "Well, what I mean is, he should have good analytical abilities?"
He looked at me, a little bemused. "Does it work everywhere?If you are asked to promote a product, how will that help?"
"Sir, is this advertising, brand promotion?"
"Whatever you would like."
"Well, sir, if the brand you need to promote is a recognised one, you need to understand what the public perception of that brand is, what they think is the strength and the weakness, if it's a new brand you need to build on it. Hide the flaws."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Sir, may I cite an example?"
"Yes."
I racked my brains and came upon the Indian Textile Industry, God alone knows why! "Sir, the Indian textile was perceived to make inferior quality cotton cloth, this wasn't true, but the perception persisted. This is the difference between the inherent weakness in a product as opposed to the actual weakness. Through proper promotion, that misconception has been cleared up." Yes, quite a load of BS...
"Okay. If the product were a soap?..."
"Well, sir, some competitors exploit properties in products, which are inherent, but can be perceived as weaknesses. They'd say 'That soap causes drying of your skin, ours doesn't'. That would be a way, yes?"
He looked at me as if to say "Is that enough BSing for one day, young lady?"
Panelist3 consulted his notepad and enunciated in a thick Bong accent, "You gave some points in the GD (WHAT?), so how do you say a manager shouldn't be an island?"
"Sir, I recognised that the line was from a poem, I don't know which poem or who the poet is, which said "No man is an island entire unto itself." The moment a manager makes decisions in isolation, without consulting others or proper knowledge, his decisions might prove to be wrong."
He flipped through my form, "What is APPLIED about your branch? (Applied Electronics & Instrumentation)"
("Sir, that's an old question") "Sir, we have two branches in my department, one is Telecommunication, our Instrumentation degree needed to be differentiated, so it's just another name for two branches."
"Where do you APPLY electronics?"
("Why are you stuck on the name?") "Well, in our project, we're applying what we learnt into the field of VLSI design."
Panelist#2 interjected, "VLSI goes over my head, can you explain in layman's terms."
I slowed down and looked at him with an incredulous look on my face, "Sir, I will try. We're trying to design...."
"So, what are you applying in it?"
"The VLSI design and circuit design techniques we learnt in 3rd year and simulation tools we learnt in second year!"
Again a change of subject, "What is FM?"
"Frequency modulation."
"What is AM?"
"Amplitude modulation."
"What is the difference?"
"Sir, modulation of the signal over the modulatin wave."
"What is the difference between radios of old and now?"
"Sir, nowadays, we use solid-state devices, diodes, transistors in the radios, in older days they used pentodes, tetrodes, triodes..."
Panelist#2 helped me out "Tubes"
"Yessir, vaccum tubes!"
Panelist#3 persisted "You're from Kerala, right? Why don't I get FM from Trivandrum here?"
("Sir, you aren't missing anything GREAT.") "Sir, the frequency of FM is such that there is very low range for FM."
Panelist#2 was curious "Why's there low range?"
I floundered completely. This was taught in ONE paper in third semester and I had forgotten. "Uhm, the SNR ratio becomes too low." ("Damn, I am NOT a communications engineer!") "The antenna height is not conducive to long distance transmission."
"Why is it that I can get Delhi here, but not Trivandrum?"
I looked confused, "Oh, you mean Aakashvaani, that's AM, Trivandrum is on FM. AM has greater range."
"Why?"
"Sir, the frequency!"
"Is it directly proportional?"
I was almost speechless, "Sir, I don't think so."
"No, there's something about reflection"
("Oh! CRAP") I said wearily, "FM is a ground wave, AM is a sky wave."
"FINALLY"
I was startled by his enthusiastic response! ("Uhm, it was just a right answer, but thanks!")
Panelist#2 still didn't have enough of me displaying my technical knowledge. "Last question, what is the difference between fixed line and mobile communication?"
("Again, may I tell you I am NOT a freaking communications engineer, regardless..") "Uhm, sir the mode of propagation, fixed telephone lines versus antennas."
"Why is it called cellular communication?"
("Aise bolna chahiye tha nah!") And I proceeded to explain about antennas governing cells and frequency handing over. He seemed particularly happy that I knew it. Frankly, it was less of what I had learnt in college (because we hadn't) and more of reading about Smart Antennas that helped me there. You never know where reading will help you.
Panelist#1 finally spoke up, "What is the limit of transistor sizing?"
I literally beamed at him, "Sir, transistor sizes keep going down, 200 nm is the standard size now. We're doing our project in 130, 90 and 32 nm. Sizes can't go a lot below that because of VLSI fabrication and design techniques which limit the size!"
"So, What are the alternatives to transistors?"
"Sir, scientists are looking at carbon nano-tubes, single atom transistors where the spin of the electrons govern the states and some kind of atomic latch, whose name I am not sure of. I heard of it during a seminar" ("TOO much information, Shrutz! Shut up NOW") I closed my mouth.
"What are they made of?"
"I am not too sure, sir" I said slowly.
"Okay, you have talked about exploiting the weaknesses of products. You can exploit the weaknesses of customers as well. How would you, as a manager, exploit the weaknesses of customers in trying to sell Kerala as a tourist destination?"
"Sir, Indians as a whole are thrifty. They like value for money, cheap things. Kerala offers everything: beaches, hill stations, backwater etc with immense value for money. Added to which, we have concepts like Ayurveda and medical tourism catching on. We can sell Kerala like that."
"There is a school of thought that says people should focus on tourists who pay more, foreigners. What do you say?" "Foreign arrivals in India are low as such,not just to Kerala. Added to which, Indian businessmen don't travel much to Kerala for business reasons. This leaves domestic tourists who are mainly families to whom the price matters. That's where the price factor comes in."
"So, you are suggesting best of two worlds?"
"Yes sir, I would say a two-pronged approach" ("Hah!")
Panelist#3 had his say again, "You are from Kerala. Which district are your parents from in Kerala?"
("Why can't he believe it when I say I AM from Kerala?") "Sir, They're from Pathanamthitta, but we've been in Trivandrum mostly."
They thanked me, I smiled again and left.

This PI went well, smiles all around and lasted around 15 minutes. Wasn't too long, but was one of my better interviews, along with Indore.

The last PI up, is Bangalore, on 4th April

Till then, adios!

We're Taking This In-Dore

2006-03-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

Dear reader, I am about to commit an inequity most heinous,
To your sanity it might prove to be quite ruinous,
Yet, for the love of my blog, sweet reader, you must dare.
My IIM-Indore GD/PI experience will be verse for the wear.

The fourth of March, the day dawned dark and bleak
With the clouds, ol' Sun played hide and seek.
At half past five, my mom decided that it was enough,
"Off the bed, my darling daughter, it's time for tough love."

I woke up, blinking the dusty cobwebs of sleep from my eyes,
Hoping that, today, I wouldn't be cut down to a smaller size.
To beat Bangalore traffic (Always a pain in the sensitive part!)
We set off for IIM-B at seven, (Don't ask about my heart!)

As a poet, I am allowed to take you on a digression in vain,
Yeah, rhyming the last three lines was a PAIN!
Okay, so here she was, Shrutz for her 3rd crack at a GD/PI,
This time for the young turk of the six, IIM-I.

Now, these IIM Indore folk thought it mighty fine,
To schedule the guinea pigs for Chinese torture at nine.
Yes, dear reader, you heard right, that's nine aye-yum
These people have no concept of true-blue fun.

At the K-block of IIM-B, sat the unfortunate twenty,
Assembled on steel chairs that looked a li'l rickety.
Like little lambs to be led to the slaughter block,
In the wide classrooms hewn from ash-grey rock.

Nine 'o clock struck her solemn chimes all too soon.
The twenty had gathered in what they called a waiting room.
But, Alas! To their surprised, nothing had happened,
Not a peep from the panel nor a list, Okay, maybe that was a godsend.

Fifteen minutes later, there entered a man, stage right
Split the twenty into 3 panels, and led two to their plight,
Leaving a very nervous bunch of seven in the room,
And then we were seated to meet glory or crash to doom.

Now, this friendly professor, (Let's call him Numero Uno)
Smiled at the seven of us brightly and said, "You know,"
"This is the IIM-Indore group discussion, held in-door,
Yes, I am afraid the joke has been killed by many a bore!"

"So, without any further ado, let's chart out our agenda,
We're going to have a case study & it's a mind-bender.
Yes! I know that this comes as a surprise to those of you,
Who lived and slept under a rock for the past month or two."

"I hope you have all filled our yellow form from Hell,
Hey! it was lengthy, but at least we meant well!
So, what if you don't know how to use MS Excel
Our disclaimer promises we don't kiss and tell!"

So, at a motion of his hand, the case we all read,
Tried to make sense of whatever the author said.
Too much information it gave and witheld the rest,
Which might be pertinent to the idea to pass the test.

The case, now, what was it really about, after all?
It talked about four friends who had a great idea one fall.
They made a product to help the visually impaired,
Sold it to the public, in the market it very well fared.

Till one day, its success bred the rise of an audacious fake
Helped by the fifth in the team who played for a higher stake.
It could spell disaster to the small firm in its infancy,
They'd turned to us, the future MBAs from Hell, in their naveity.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn what happens to your company,
(And your little cat too!) Your HR policy couldn't identify the enemy.
But to earn brownie points we have to talk our way,
Through the GD and lend a patient ear to what others say.

"How did the GD go?", a question oft-heard, you see,
I'd say it was quite chaotic, but I'd be in a one-woman minority.
To put things in perspective, Shrutz was rendered speechless,
By the sheer tidal wave of the whole debating mess.

There were those who declared the fake to be as good,
And those who asseverated that it was VERY rude.
To have been back-stabbed by one held so dear,
It might happen again was quite a valid fear.

*Yawn*, SO what else is new in the world of the MBA wannabe?
Are you going to come with some radical new theory?
This case study is going nowhere in a hurry, you know,
Wake me up when something happens and things aren't this slow.

After 14 minutes of yowling and screeching, we were done
Now, it was time for some serious writing fun.
Yeah right! A summary of the discussion most productive,
And mind you, the ideas were all quite regressive.

"Now, my dear wannabes, please clip your forms together,
To keep you on your toes, we're calling you in random order."
Mr.Uno and his sidekick, Mr.Man shooed us out,
We'd been chucked out of K23, without a doubt.

Outside the seven of us began the ritual of bonding over tea.
There were no biscuits this time, that was quite a pity.
To comment on my brothers-in-arms, do I dare?
I would've, but they'd scream and rant "That's UNFAIR!"

Forty five minutes into the process, Out came Number 1,
It was going to be a long day ahead, and 'twas no fun.
Like kingpins, they called in numbers two, three and four.
Then, it was my turn, I was the next one through the door.

"Hello Shruti," said Mr.Uno with a smile most mocking.
"Do not assume that for us the interviewee is king!"
"Why IIM-Indore? Why not IIM-Kozhikode?
We've been told that is the chosen Kampus of God!"

Said I with a nervous laugh, "Sir, it's the brand name,
The tag IIM that matters. The IIMs are all the same."
Now, Mr.Uno, he didn't look convinced one bit,
Regardless, he thought he would overlook it.

"Okay, Shruti, so tell me, Why do you want to do an MBA?
And don't try to bluff me, I know what you're about to say.
So keep in mind, you are an ickle li'l fresher kiddie,
The fact that you have no work-ex really is a pity."

"Well, sir, it's just that I have done some much work
In the area of ahem, organising stuff, I didn't shirk.
So I have take a flight of fancy incomprehensible,
Decided I want to do an MBA, if I am able!"

He shook his head in negation, "That's all right,
But tell me why MBA now? When you might,
Work for two years and then take a course?"
Oh no! He wants work-experience enforced?

"I don't this it absolutely necessary, sir." I said,
With more firmness that I had intended.
He smiled and asked, "Right, tell me then,
What you know of our fair institute, Susan."

"Yessir. IIM-Indore is young, even younger than me,
Established circa 2000, flourishing like a bay tree.
The placements have been good, salaries better,
9 lakhs and 16 lakhs, they're great numbers."

" I see you do Applied Electronics in CET,
What difference does it really make, Shruti?"
"Well sir, we major in instrumentation, you see"
What followed was a comparision of the two syllabi.

"So, you're an engineer," flashing a wicked smile,
"Now I want you to answer this question so simple,
How are digital cameras different from those of old?"
"Sir, you point and shoot, so I am told."

To add to the torture, he then proceeded to ask,
How microwave ovens work and even a quartz watch.
To add insult to injury, he told me he wanted to know,
What the engineer would say as an answer right now.

"Sir, forget what an engineer knows, I just don't,
I am not doing my MTech, and it shows upfront!"
Mr.Duo interrupted (not too smoothly, I may add)
"What are your hobbies, Shruti are they RAD?"

"Well sir, I blog at times, I read, I sing a bit,
I play the violin, like public speaking, and I write!'
"Name me some Indian violinists then, young lady?"
"L Subramaniam and Jayaram from Lalgudi."

"Why do you want to do an MBA now then?"
I looked startled and felt deja vu all over again!
The answer sounded the same old, trite and common
Come on now! I am fresher, this is the best I could summon!

"What is the difference between a violin and a sitar?"
"This is like asking me to compare an apple and an anar,
The only similarity is that they are two fruits"
I sputtered something that sounded quite nuts.

"How does the sound vibrate in a violin by plucking?"
"Sir, we don't pluck, the violin is played by drawing.
When we pluck, that is called pizzicatto,
Latin for plucking, we're sophisticated-O!"

I explained about open strings and different positions!
Till he asked me what were the wave equations!
"Uhm, Lambda, Nu and V are involved, sir
On the name of engineers,I am an unfortunate slur!"

I was done for, with that pun most profound,
After all, I didn't know how the sound,
In a violin obeyed the laws of physics,
That meant I was rather in a big fix.

The standing wave equation, I was told later,
But that didn't occur to me then to tell the sir.
I got up to take my file and bid tender adieu,
When Mr.Uno decided "No not now!"

"Okay, Miss. George tell me what you'd do,
If we gave you a spot offer. Would you rue?"
I stood transfixed on the spot and sputtered,
"Well sir, IIM-I thinks I'm good, I'd be honoured!"

"Would you go for the other interviews?
Handle them like nobody else's business?"
"Sir, please give me time to recover,
Spot offers really aren't in your power!"

"I think you're pulling my leg, but I'd say bye,
To the other IIMs, if you gave me a spot admit to I!"
"You'd even dump A?" asked he with his smile intact,
"Sure, I would sir, I already have! As a matter of fact!"

"You don't have an A call, do you?" he asked with a huff,
"Nossir! But please don't hold it against them, that's just rough."
"Okay, thank you, Shruti, you may leave too.
I can't really say it was a pleasure meeting you."

I walked out of the door, with a smile on my face,
I think, right now, I am out of the race!
Never mind, I shall rise out of the rout
Calcutta and Bangalore look out.

Copyright: Shrutz, 2006.

I Need Some Luck Now

2006-03-02T05:45:00.000-08:00

Aka What Not To Do In Your IIM-L Interview

22nd February dawned fair and bright.
"Shruti. Wake up, it's 7:00."
I crawled deeper into the covers and decided to give the umpteenth wake up call a miss. "Five minutes please."
I am usually a person who can stay awake till 3 am and wake up as fresh as a daisy at 7:30, drink some coffee and dash to college. But, the Bangalore weather does things to me. Must be signs of impending old age, but the cold gets me to my bones, makes my skin dry out ala cold-cream-ads and makes my regularly wavy hair straight. Hmm, maybe there might be advantages to the dryness!
I was finally pulled out of my warm bed (loudly protesting, I might add) by a firm mother who pushed me into brush my teeth. After a seried of unfortunate incidents where I mistook my nose for my teeth, I finally did my ablutions and looked presentable for a GD/PI... technically.
Okay, Bangalore traffic is a bad thing, to paraphrase Martha Stewart. Really BAD. We got out of the house at 7:45 and reached IIM, Bangalore at Bannerghatta Road at aroud 8:35. (The return journey took my relative 2 hours!)
Once at the CCP building, the-guy-I-met-at-the-lobby (yes, a new character in the proceedings!) and I set out in search of the M block, getting lost en route and asking umpteen people.
Once at M block, this is what we saw.
Well, no, not literally, this was the scene some time LATER.
What happened before was:
Guy-I-Met-at-the-Lobby and I met a new candidate fondly to be remembered as Person-who-guessed-everyone's-state. Oracle product, Venkat (The guy in the maroon tie and blue shirt), who 'introducted' himself to me and guy-I-met.., who turned out to be Elvis. No. Not the King. Immediately Venkat realised that he was a Mallu Christian. (Yay, telepathy). I sweetly enquired what I looked like after he saw Panel number VIII (All Mallus) file in. His face worked into a grimace as he guessed.."Bong!"
Yeah. He got that right. I am quite a Chatterjee.
One by one, my group started filing in. I hadn't seen so many Mallus in a B-school, err.. I never had seen so many Mallus in a B-school.
There was Nikhil (with whom I shook hands and blurted out "Speed Nikhil?" and Sanoop who looked flabbergasted that I didn't look as tall as my TIME ad passport size photo. Sanju and Anju, my department mates, Deepak, in the same boat as I (BLICK calls.. damn you A!) & Jinnoy, who would have been a classmate if I hadn't been in CET. (Well, doesn't that make sense now?)
Gayatri and I were spending quite a while giggling over the things we giggle over... GD/PI practice sessions. Yeah, I know. We NEED to get a life! In the middle, I took a picture.

At 10:00 sharp, a lady who vaguely reminded me of Glenn Close's character in 101 Dalmations fairly bristled out.
She first called out Nikhil's name. All of us looked at each other. He'd gone to Panel VII.
"Okay, so he's not there. George Shruti Susan."
Elvis plucked up enough courage to inform her after he had been called third to tell her that Nikhil was upstairs.
"Okay. Go call him... Parumpat."
Huh? What?
"Parumpat"
Sanoop detached himself from the mass and stood behind me in 4th place as everyone filed into the room to see a round table with 9 chairs laid out. We took our seats as Speed rushed in, true to his moniker. The King sedately walked into the third chair.
By now, everyone was settled in and staring at the two lovely attendants on our rollicking journey.
Miss Close looked at Santa's Elf#1 and coughed. "Welcome to the GD/PI. Today we will be flying at an altitude that is going to make you VERY sick. The weather is good, but I know all of you're feeling clammy. Fat good it will do you. Enjoy the ride. It's nauseating."
Tada. She declaimed the...
GD Topic: "You have hardly ever met a mathematician who is good at reasoning"

Wow. Interesting choice of subject. Couldn't you do me a favour and hand me a gun. It might even turn out to be painless.
Given 10 minutes, we were supposed to write on the topic. I wrote something about how abstract concepts and beauty don't mix and how maths was the Lingua Pura,"Cogito Ergo Sum" and all rubbish of that sort.
I was reasonably satisfied with my effort and after 8 minutes, dotted my final i and dashed my final t and sat back in my seat for the two minutes observing the others do likewise.
After which, we were given the permission to start.
Sanoop started off, "Friends, when I see the topic in front of us, I am reminded of models."
HUH? WHAT? COME AGAIN?
"... I am a software engineer" (Good for you!:D) "We have the travelling salesman model."
All of us looked flabbergasted and chalked down the start to some new-fangled model developed by some reasoning mathematician somewhere. People were itching to interrupt and finally someone did... And we were off!
In the middle of the GD, I suddenly realised one C H Dodgson was good for a dramatic example and I talked about how his book Alice in Wonderland was an example of creativity.
Sanoop smoothly agreed "Alice in Wonderland makes me remember a wonderful story."
Everyone pricked their ears attentively.
"Alice's grandma said. "1.2.3. What comes next?" Said Alice, "I don't know".."
That was a bit of a damp squib but Nikhil wasn't to be deterred! "And could you explain that please?"
Sanoop gallantly went forward, "That's easy. Alice needed to learn counting."
Death silence while people grinned.
Jinnoy took over and talked about Mr. Manmohan Singh for some god forsaken reason!
15 minutes later, we were done. The Lady and the Tramp ushered us out.

We bonded over biscuits, tea and Alice in Wonderland. We were spending a large part of our time scaring poor Parumpat with dire warnings of how they'd ask him about the Jabberwocky. Sanoop had turned a pretty shade of puce by then.
For evidence, these are the Mallus@IIMB in one stage of the PI process...

After 10 minutes of general hyperness, where Elvis's nose was recorded for posterity, Scapegoat#1, Nikhil was called in. We waved him in with suitable noises of encouragement. Imagine cheerleaders saying "Rah rah Nikhil is our main man." Yeah. It wasn't that at all.

20 minutes later, he came out looking disgusted and tired. He motioned me in, while the others clustered around him. I went in after a delay, whereupon the Lady had started to the door.
Went near the door, got in and she asked me to "Close the door, Susan". I closed it as softly as I could and walked slowly to the hot seat.

(SM and SK be the panelists. Yeah I found out their names!)
SM: "So, do you like to be called Susan or Shruti?"
Me: "Shruti, ma'am."

I was a little surprised and took my seat.
SM: "Okay, you seem to have distinctions in both 11th and 12th. Why didn't you write IIT?"
Me: "Ma'am, I didn't. My parents needed me."
SM: "Is your college good?"
Me: (DUH) "Yes, ma'am."
SM: "So, tell me something about your college and why you selected it?"
Me: "Ma'am CET was started in 1939 by Mr.Mathewman..." Some trivia followed.
SM: "So, what is its ranking?"
Me: "It's the best college in the state after NIT-Calicut."
SM: "Why did you choose it?"
Me: (Because they wanted me and I was up for a break) I added some gyaan about the college
SM: "What about industry interaction?"
Me: *Talk about the department and talks being organised*
SM: "What made you choose your college?"
Me: *same points*
SM: "How do you define the placements being good? Where are you placed?"
Me: "Infosys and IBM Hardware."
SM: "Have you decided where to go? Are both IT firms?"
Me: "No, ma'am Infy is IT-based, IBM is not." *more random talk*
SM: "Okay, so did you have any more choice in your acads"
Me: "Yes, ma'am I chose to do engineering of what I had."
*li'l silence* BIG MISTAKE #1!
SM: "Go on."
Me: "I got through the CMC Vellore exam. Decided to forego the PI."
SM: (looking surprised at what she clearly considered my stupidity and leaning back in chair) "Why did you write the test?"
Me: "I was inspired in part by Dr. Ida Scudder." (Please pick on that!?)
SM: (resolutely ignoring my opening) "But you wasted time and energy?"

IT WAS MY TIME AND ENERGY FOR GOD'S SAKE!
Me: *tried explaining*
SM: (waving it off) "List the pros and cons of an MBBS degree."
Me: "I believe I am a bit too empathetic." *some more BS*
SM: "Tell me about yourself."
Me: "Ma'am, I study..."
SM: (not looking convinced) "No, no...Why an MBA now? Why not a Tech job?"
Me: *lists out reasons*
SM: (not looking convinced at ALL) "How do you say a B-school is good?"

By now, I was seriously getting tired of the third degree. I was being grilled and not allowed to finish my answers fully and frankly, pasting a smile on for so long was bugging! Regardless, on the smile stayed!

SM: "How do you rate a B-school?"
Me: "On the same criteria as an engineering college.Placements, Infra, faculty, students..."
SM: "How can you rate placements?"

Deja-vu all over again.

Me: "Ask the seniors, and check out after 3 more years how they fared at their first job."
SM: "Where do you see yourself 2 years from now?"
Me: "Having completed my MBA and working in the industry for 3 years, and then at business."
SM: "Any dream companies?"
Me: "No, ma'am. But.." I started on an anecdote.
SM: "So you don't know what you will do?"
Me: "Ma'am I hope to find out during the MBA."
SM: "Oh, so the MBA is a career counselling program?"
Me: (tired of all this!) "No, ma'am!" *some more BS*
SM: "Okay, so what companies come to IIM-L?"

WHAT THE HECK?

Me: (evading the question) "The usual ones."
SM: "Like?..."
Me: "I talked to a senior and she was placed in Dabur."
SM: "Where can you get the placement data from?"

A blank look followed the response.

SM: "The website?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am. But I didn't check the stats."

The hitherto silent Good Cop decided to come into the PI.

SK: "So, what is the intake of IIM-L?"
Me: "250, I think."
SM: "What courses do we offer?"
Me: "Courses on Finances, Operations, HR... Some colleges give it on Systems too"
SM: "Systems?"
Me: "IIM-C, for eg, has the PGDCM for systems."
SM: "Do we have any specialisations?"
Me: (Forgot about PGP-ABM) "No, ma'am. But you can major in any one thing or just take a general management degree."
SM: "There was recently a controversy involving IIM-B. Do you think it's good for IIMs to open shop outside?"
Me: *starts off and get cut in middle*
SM: "Do the IIMs offer a degree?"
Me: "No, ma'am. It's a PG Diploma in management."
SM: "Why?"
Me: *explains about the funda*

SK comes back from his tryst with the outside world.

SK: "So, if you had to prepare a questionnaire about placements, what would you do?"
Me: *divide it into quanti vs subjective.. questions etc etc*
SK: "Would it be subjective or number based?"
Me: "Depends on the size of the sample."
SK: "What does random mean?"
Me: (IIMB's calls) "Well, sir.... "*BS*
SK: "Mathematical expression please?"
Me: "Probability not known."
I beat abour the bush some more...
Me: "Sigh, Sir, I don't know."
SK: "IF I said it was.." *long explanation*
Me: "I believe so, sir."
SK: "You BELIEVE so, You mean it's not?"
Me: "It is, sir."
SK: "What is conditional probability?"
Me: *answer*
SK: "Is is independent or mutually exclusive?"
Me: "Not independent. Mutually exclusive.. hmm no"
SK: "Draw it."

I draw it on a notepad with notations.

SK: "Is this mutually exclusive?"
Me: (Truly tired of all this) "Yes, sir." (Big Mistake#1394)

SM: "Thank you Shruti."

I walked out with as much dignity as I could muster.

SM: "Call Elvis in."
Me: "Yes, ma'am."

Once out, I commenced hitting my head.
That, my friend, is how NOT to conduct your IIML PI!

Arm twisting can get you places

2006-02-23T03:43:00.001-08:00

A Dummy's Guide to Biz-School Or why B-schoolers have all the time in the world to write DIY blogs.
Courtesy: Binu Ninan Kovoor (The Mallu)
PGDM, Class of 2006, IIM Calcutta

"Oh! I am sorry...

2006-02-20T18:44:00.000-08:00

Did my back hurt your knife?"
-Rachel Greene (Jennifer Aniston- F.R.I.E.N.D.S)

While on the subject, here're some Blog updates (and grades)

All new Blogrolling list. Yay!
And for the pesky proxy problems, use Shrutz.tk Yeah. That's Shrutz. Battling the Proxy Problem. One url at a time. If this works, I am getting rid of the second blog, so please pay attention. My head (as well as my back) is hurting!

Wave your hands in the air

2006-02-16T11:22:00.000-08:00

Yeah. Coming to the open air coconut farm near you....
Terbang'd And a Mall!...
Hold your breath. (Don't forget to wave your arms in the air, like you don't care!)

IIM-K GD/PI

2006-02-13T23:54:00.000-08:00

Thoughts, Musing and Random Factoids You NEVER Wanted to Know About My IIM-K GD/PI Process!

Okay, so here she was. Shrutz in the Big Insti. I plonked my bags into a room on the IIMB campus a day early and went around asking seniors for gyaan on filling the forms! (Small aside here: You can get LOST in the campus. But it's really pretty. Also, Bangalore is too cold for my Mallu self. I can live without the cardigan/jacket, but the semi-lukewarm-water masquerading as hot water was too cold for me to take... literally!) I was put up in a really pretty hostel room from where I could look at the peaceful vistas of... construction work. Yeah, looks like many more seats up for grabs this year But, yeah, the setting is really idyllic. Unfortunately, I got lost along the whole executive block-CCP-administration maze a couple of times. I am still not entirely sure where I had my GD and PI!
PS: Looks like there's a nice Cafe Coffee Day outlet *somewhere* on the campus!

D-Day dawned as bright as a new penny.

My GD/PI process started at 2 PM. I was escorted there (no, not shouting and screaming!) by a friendly senior, who also helped in the nervousness department. ("Don't be.") After being mistaken for a PGP student by another of the prospective K-students ("Where's the K interview taking place?"), I plonked myself on the nearest seat (which was a huge cement block) near the interview rooms.

First impression: There were close to 30 people! Wall-to-wall. People looking nervous, checking the certis, yapping away, verifying their certis. And there I was, unusually quiet. (Poor me ) After verification was done, I finally met someone who wanted to TALK. We spent the next 5 minutes exchanging information (aka gossiping!)

At 2 sharp, a very sharp gentleman escorted the 10 of us nouveau-acquainted souls into Panel#3 and arranged us along a table. Yours truly was #3. Our panel was blessed in that there were three of the fairer sex. Yeah, I am sure the guys must have been SOOOOO happy. (yeah, right!)
We were handed small slips of papers and asked to read through the passage and make points (if we liked) for 3 minutes.
I looked down.
10 lines.
10 lines that made sense only after I shook my head a few times.
"Modernity is an ambiguous word. It depends on societies. *yada yada* The present was its flower"
I shook my head again!
Squinted.
Thoughts of CAT VA came floating back into my mind, unbidden....
I pushed the treacherous doubts back and stared at modernity again, and decided to do what I usually do for GDs.
Fly on the moment...
Suddenly, "You may start"
Dead silence for 2 seconds while everyone looked at each other, wondering who the unfortunate neck on the chopping block would be.
"Ahem, friends, today the passage that has been given..." yeah that was me.
Yay! I started.. Uhm, So WHAT?
After 7-8 minutes of people talking in a very rational and peaceful manner, the moderators had enough. ("Where's the blood? the gore? the vehemence? Some good points, maybe?")
All in all, quite a peaceful GD, though I disagreed with one lady who said "the most peaceful GD I have attended." Makes me ask "How ARE the GDs in Hyderabad?"!
Not too many points were brought up. I wasn't too happy with my performance. I just tried to stay out of trouble and kept a low profile throughout, came into the GD only thrice.

Since you people have gotten this far into the experience, let's move on to the PI. (yeah, lucky you!)

Venue: Panel Number 3
Interviewers: Two extremely cordial and chill gentlemen (who even opened the door for me! Seriously!). P1 and P2, say?
Setting: Fluoroscent lights and very chatty, informal atmosphere.

P1 takes the file from me and starts looking through it. P2 is reading my form (oh NO!)

P2: "You have mentioned here that you an Army background and were inspired by your mother's entrepreneurship. Could you explain?"
Me: "Yessir! My father's an Army officer. My mom has a petrol bunk..."
P1: (interrupting) "She owns it?"
Me: "Yessir."
P2: "Where in Trivandrum?"
Me: "..." (No, not giving it to you!)
P2: (Ascertaining actual location...)
Me: (confirms)
P2: "Okay, let's hear something about you."
Me: "I am Shruti George, doing my eighth semester *yada yada* hobbies *blah blah* I believe in giving 110%."
P2: "Why not 120?"
Me: (Huh?) "Sir, it can as well be anything higher than 100. (sooo cliched!) Just a number!"
Me: "I am okay at acads."
P2: (looks down at file) "You call THIS okay at acads?"
Me: "You can always strive to be better!" (Hehe!)
P1: "Are you the topper?"
Me: "No sir, top 10% in class!"
P2: "Okay, you've said being the placecomm rep was a cathartic experience. Explain"
Me: (launching into long winded explanation)
P2: (after hearing everything.) "Yes, I understand. but why?"
Me: (confused) "well, sir..." *Another story*
P2: "What does cathartic mean?"
Me: "Life-changing"
P2: "Not exactly."
Me: "Sir, I will check it up!"
P2: "Do that!"
Edit: It's more to do with ONE moment that is life-changing. *Sigh* I had an answer to that too. Ought to have used it
P1: (closing the file) "So, Miss. George. You said you play the violin."
Me: "Yessir."
P2: "Name a famous Malayalee violinist."
Me: "Err." (Yeah! I ought to have seen that coming.)
After some painful exchanges....
P2: "Look that up too. So, can I ask you ANYTHING about your hobby?"
Me: (realisation ALWAYS dawns late) "err, sir, I actually learnt the WESTERN violin."
P2: "Ahh, yes! So what's the difference?"
Me: "Funda on chin rest, tuning, musical notations etc"
P2: "Are you a novice or are you good?"
Me: "I am quite okay. Gave three grades of ABRSM."
P2: "VSM?"
Me: "Associated Board of Royal Schools of Music"
P2: (nods his head and looks at P1)
P1: "So, Miss. George, what about your schooling?"
Me: "I had a semi-Army schooling."
P2: "Semi?"
Me: "Unlike most Kendriya Vidyalayas, our school had more Malayalees."
P1: "Miss George, Malayalees can be in the Armed Forces too."
Me: (hopefully, without missing a beat) "Yes sir, but my classmates were settled in Kerala for 12 years and were mostly bank officers' kids. This was peculiar to my school."
P2: "Pattom?" (Yay! Mallu alert )
Me: "Yessir. The school was marvellous!"
P1: "You're from Kerala. Whom do you think will come into power?"
Me: "Sir, it's obvious it will the Opposition. It's the pattern"
P1: "Why?"
Me; "Sir, Malayalees are very politically aware. Added to the anti-incumbency factor and the view that the government has done nothing to address the problems of the common man. The deficit is huge and the Treasury is in shambles."
P1: "That's been a problem for ages"
Me; "Yes sir. For a long time."
P1: "Do you think there's something wrong?" (Scribbling marks down)
Me: "It's easy enough to be in our positions and say 'This is wrong' I think the government, like so many others, got caught in the same old."
*Talk about IT-tourism and BMW-cum-hartal, trade-unionism*
P1: "What do you intend to take up as a specialisation?"
Me: "Sir, either Finance or Marketing."
P1: "Both are very different"
Me: "Sir, I intend to see at the end of the year what I am really good at!'
P1: "What makes you think you will make a good manager?"
Me: "Sir, I am very enthusiastic"
P1: "Just that?"
Me: (correcting self) "Since I have been young, I have been at the forefront of most activities *self glorification*"
P1: (nods head and smiles)
P2: "Sir, I have a final question. You talked about trade unionism. Did you ever have to face it in the business?"
Me: "Yessir. Once" (long story)
P1 and P2: Thank you.

I almost ran out....

Cross posted on Pagalguy!

1.2.3...A Fraud Guide to Instant Poetry

2006-02-08T17:58:00.000-08:00

Blogger, before you enter, be warned!
Shruti Fraud and Jax are registered BlogSpot versions of REAL people.
It's your lookout, if you come across either of us!
We take no prisoners!

"ARGHHHHHHHHHH", the scream of frustration resounded in the air in C#.
Shruti Fraud nearly jumped out of the brain, or whatever part of the body she inhabited. "What's wrong, Jax?"
Jax looked up, then looked around and finally realised 'twas nothing but the disembodied yet cynical voice of the Blogger Also Known as Shrutz.
He sighed and struck a dramatic pose, "Poetry is the soul of food, I have been told. Alas! If that be true, then I be starved, dear Shruti."
Fraud looked confused "Soul of food? Surely, you durst not mean food of the soul?"
Jax blinked momentarily, "To the educated mind, 'tis all the same. Food, soul, poetry, what's in a name?"
Fraud sat down and motioned Jax to do likewise. "I see your brow is lined with the furrows of worry. Is there something we ought to know?"
Jax sighed, "Yes, my friend, my heart verily doth weep. I wish to drown my sorrows in verse deep. My mind chafes at the smallest hint of pretentious prose. It serves only to make the situation worse. To wax lyrical, to the world about my innermost thought, surely that's not asking for a lot? It'd work, as far as I can see, if I wasn't stuck on line three. It was an idea absolutely divine, and so far, things were quite fine. Till I had to find a rhyme, (and I have been stuck on it for sometime) for a word as common as 'Orange', my dear Fraud."
"What is this in aid of, Jax?"
Jax hemmed and hawed.. "Well, it's poetry week on Blogger."
"Yeah, right!"
(Small aside here: Yes, girls, Jax here is single, and ready to mingle!... Go on, ping him! Here's his list.)
"I know it's getting dangerously closer to that time of the year again, Jax. Now, into which girl's shell-like ear do you wish to recite poetry into on February 14th? Don't be scared, man. You know, Shruti Fraud is here to help you with ALL your problems!"
Jax heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Well, I am not really asking for too much. It's just that I have become out of touch. So, Fraud, can you find it in your heart (or whatever part of the anatomy you inhabit.) to help a poor hapless soul like me, and publish a handy-dandy guide to poetry?"
"Done, Jax!", said Shruti Fraud and proceeded to blog about poetry....

The Shruti Fraud Guide to Poetry. It's As Easy As 1..2..3

For starters, pick a topic to write about. WHAT? No, Ode to the Lint in my Pocket REALLY doesn't work. Do you really think Wordsworth started out that way? Or Milton? Or Tennyson? Even Browning, Frost and Blake? Yes, we're leaving Ogden Nash out of the picture. Okay, if you are so insistent that pocket lint is important to you, keep it. [Helpful Hint#1: It's better if you can pick a topic that evokes a lot of pain. Pain is an excuse for you to do whatever you want in a poem and pass it off as "It still hurts to think about it." Of course, don't write about experiences at the dentist. Well, unless you ARE Ogden Nash.] Recommended topics include the eyes of your beloved, the rise and fall of the Roman empire, the view outside your window amongst others.
Now that you have fixed on a topic, we need to fix on a suitable title. God! Will you PLEASE keep quiet about your pocket lint? Now, there are two ways in which you may name your poem. Either start off with (yes, yes) Ode to the... or Musings on.., Recollections of.., Sonnet to..., as applicable. For a difference, of course, you can title your poem with a single word. Examples of this would be Life, Egg, Flower (And... even Lint!.. Damn, you're persistent.) [Helpful Hint#2: Either be short and sweet with the title, or be so discursive that people lose the track within 3 seconds. An example for the latter would be Random Musings on Penning a Sonnet to Ode to the Lint in my Pocket. Capsice?]
Quick now! What emotions does your topic conjure up? Love? Anger? Hate? Awe? Or are you hungry after thinking so much? If nothing comes to mind, sorrow and pain might be a good idea. Just pinch your hand, squint your eyes and screw up your mouth. The tears will follow.... If you want to be happy, just think of my blog ;) With the Ode to the Lint in my Pocket, you'll need to feel the pain of the dhobi entrusted with the noble task of cleansing the garment from the iniquities of the lint. Be ONE with the dhobi (Now, now, Angel. Be good..) . Each rinse, each beating, every sudsy bucket of water needs to be experienced. This is a Zen-like state, achieved only by constant practice (and a few shots of booze/dope, I am told!)
Congrats! You have got thus far. Now you are ready to write sheer poetry. But first.... A few deep breaths ought to prepare you. Yes.. That's the way. Breathe in. Breathe Out. Repeat. Nod your head to the beat. Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Wave your hands in the air like you just don't care. Be careful of the crystal, though. I would like you to care just for that. Okay, okay, wave your hands in the air like you only care for my crystal and NOTHING else! Done? Okay, now we're on to poetry....
Rhyming is simple, Rhyming is easy, It's all in a day's work for me! Rhyme and metre are all very well... so, here's a crash course in the lingo the hep poets use ..
The concept of rhyme and its role in poetry vary considerably in different cultures. In modern English, and most European literary traditions, it is the final vowel/consonant combination found at the ends of lines that are repeated across the rhyming words. When words within a single line are rhymed, it is called an internal rhyme.
- tail rhyme (or end): a rhyme in the final syllable(s) of a verse (the most common kind)
- masculine: a rhyme in which the stress is on the final syllable of the words. (rhyme, sublime, crime)
- feminine: a rhyme in which the stress is on the penultimate (second from last) syllable of the words. (picky, tricky, sticky)
- dactylic: a rhyme in which the stress is on the antepenultimate (third from last) syllable (hesitant, president)
- triple: a rhyme in which all three syllables of a three-syllable word are stressed equally.
- perfect: a rhyme between words that are identical in sound from the point of their first accented syllable forward. (sight and flight, deign and gain and quatrain)
- imperfect: a rhyme between a stressed and an unstressed syllable. (den, siren)
- identity: a rhyme that starts at a consonant instead of a vowel, or rhyming a word with itself. (gun, begun)
- semirhyme: a rhyme with an extra syllable on one word. (bend, ending)
- oblique (or slant): a rhyme with an imperfect match in sound.
- sight (or eye): a similarity in spelling but not in sound. (cough, bough, or love, move)
Yeah. That's what they say. I haven't read what the above is yet. But, don't be scared by the "aaaa","aabbcc..","abab.." schemes they throw in our face. Research has shown that it is just a giant conspiracy to scare all of us common folk away. Like the great Bart of A-one said, "A rhyme is a rhyme is rhyme, that which a rhyme be called by another name would stink to the high heavens." Maybe I got it wrong here, so SUE me!
If you had any sense, you'd have skipped the previous point. But, since you are still reading this blog, I have my doubts. Nevertheless, let me teach you lambkins how to pass a Fraud poem as yer own!
The first line should introduce the subject of your poem in a dramatic way. It may also express your state of mind. Witness the selfsame Ottlimp (Ode to .... God, you ARE persistent). It can start start in many ways

Alas! This lint in my pocket is irksome (Bad start. It's very hard to rhyme the word with words that DON'T end in some and also, the whole premise of the poem has been short-circuited. Always remember, the poem has to have inner meaning, even if it just means you had indigestion that day, or in this case, you don't brush your clothes off too often.)
I wandered lonely as a cloud. (Famous way of starting. Sufficiently mysterious and safe enough to talk about anything...)
My questing eyes, they fell upon the lint. (Again. quite satisfactory. But, more suspense might be created if your questing eyes sought many more objects till they alighted on the lint. But, never mind. This is, of course, your maiden effort.)
A dramatic monologue will work out fine. A monologue is a poem in which one person (whose idea of good conversation is all about HIMSELF, proceeds to bore everyone else with rabid mutterings of, say, the lint in his pocket.) A monologue could start with That's my favourite pair of pants... Things might steadily get downhill after that.
A good way to grab attention is to address the readers, as Mark Antony found out. This is exemplified in lines like Fellow sufferers, humans, unshod masses, Unite.
The most powerful first line might be. Lint. I HATE.

For effective rhyming, TRY and keep the last word short and simple. It's a pain in the err... sensitive parts to try and rhyme words like loquacious and pusillanimous (not to mention running for the dictionary every verse). Keep it sweet, keep it simple. Above all, remember the "Duh" factor. [Helpful Hint#3: For further explanation of the "Duh" factor, call me up ;)]. Rhymes can go like this...

To rhyme well requires great artistry/Believe me, it's quite a rewarding hobby/ But, for you to rhyme as good as me/ With grammar, you may take some liberty/ The knowledge will not come free/You'll need to pay Rs.1000/- by DD.
I don't know what Jax thought/When he asked me to write poetry/I don't this is what he sought/In fact, he's saying, "Oh dearie, me!"
When you were here before/Couldn't look you in the eye/You're just like Angel/Your skin is too dry. [Hehe]

Haiku is very popular nowadays.

pocket lint/looks like cumulus clouds/very fluffy.
this haiku/will automatically self destruct/when you're away [I know the format is NOT right... it's just a joke to display my ignorance of the genre. Kindly excuse!]

You say it best, when you say nothing at ALL! All the best!

Jax was bright-eyed. "Thanks, Shruti Fraud. You've saved the day, Now I will talk to the girl and hear what she has to say. I'd say that this might prove to be a cinch. I'll be seeing you tomorrow with the wench."

Thuh..thuh..That's ALL, Folks!

School of Rawk

2006-02-03T17:57:00.000-08:00

Such a feelin's comin' over me
All my friends are conspiring to see
Who can tag me with a post
So, Kaus you ain't the first
And I won't be surprised if this goes on.

Everything I want this blog to be
Is non-existent as far as I can see
And the reason is clear
It's because there's mediocrity here
It's the nearest thing to Blogger-Hell on Earth.

(*) I'm on my computer chair, looking down on Brain Freeze
And the only explanation I can find
Is the tags on the blog bore folks out of their minds
This fad is now getting out of hand.

Someone in BloggerLand has learned my name
And they're adding me on tags, good and lame,
From stories to about me's, books, music, wannabes
There's more here about me than in me....

There is only one wish on my mind
When this day is through I hope that I will find
That tomorrow will see an all new Blogger in me
I can finally write whatever I want.
(*)Repeat chorus

Tags! A menace to polite society the same way that the plague of locusts was looked at by the dignified Egyptians of 3000 B.C (give or take a few hundred.) By last count, I have done some seven of these. Hopefully, this will be the last. Well, unless a friend decides he/she hasn't gathered enough information about "The Blogger Also Known as Shrutz" and tags me with "101 things noone, and absolutely noone knows about the chimp on your computer table!" (Whoops! Did I say that aloud?)

That said, this tag business sometimes helps keep my blog alive, especially in times of great amounts of Writer's Block. Not to worry, an "About the lint in my trouser pocket" tag to the rescue. And here, I was thinking about blogging about the greenhouse effect and it's effect on the Earth. Maybe, I can postpone the "saving the world" business to another day!

So, here's what Kaus (aKa AwkwardSinusoidalFunction) has tagged me with

Me & My Music

I got tagged by CosTheta (aka Kaus, have you people BEEN listening?)

Total volume of music on my computer 15 GB, out of a 20 GB parition. About another 10 on CDs.

Title & Artist that I last bought Rang De Basanti, A R Rehman. But 'twas a casette, fair lady. It's really nice listening to the songs while driving!

Song I am playing right now Savage Garden's "To the Moon and Back".

Five+ Songs that I like/have been hooked onto

Breakaway:Kelly Clarkson: I love her voice; it's husky and clear at the same time. She OWNS the songs she sings. The lyrics make so much sense, about taking risks and making changes in your life. I occasionally keep belting this number out, especially when I am stuck in traffic and getting frustrated
"Out of the darkness/And into the sun/But I won't forget all the ones that I love."
Sayonee: Junoon:The song is, of course, awesome. But, recently I saw the video as well, and it was one the most poignant and beautiful picturisations. While on the subject of Junoon, check out Jugalbandi Live. Fully revved and instrumental!
Affirmation:Savage Garden: The first Savage Garden song I heard. Another of the feel-good inspiration type songs!
Independence Day: Martina McBride A song of desperation and life going on regardless of what your history is. Yes, it IS country moozik, but to borrow a phrase from THE girl herself, the adjective is RAW.
Behind Blue Eyes: Limp Bizkit I got acquainted with this one last year and it's been a favourite ever since. It's a feeling that a lot of us get on and off, and it doesn't hurt that the guitarwork is amazing in the song!
Stayin' Alive: The Beeges Everytime I hear this song, I get a mental picture of Saif Ali Khan & Shah Rukh Khan making heads turn on the streets of New York. But yes, the song's very retro and interesting to say the least.
Send Your Love: Sting The album was released around the time when the Iraq War was on the cards and Sting was promoting it heavily. I am a fan of the slightly Eastern touch of the background score behind all the beats. Like Desert Rose, that feel pulls the song up beyond the morass of techno-synthesized claptrap. Slightly eccentric songs are ALWAYS welcome and Sting particularly too!
The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music: Julie Andrews (Sound of Music) THE Diva. I am always struck speechless by the purity of her voice.
In The End: Linkin Park "Tum Tum Tum Ta-tuh tum tum tum..." In the end it doesn't matter. An anthem for life!
In the Shadows: The Rasmus I was always hooked onto the background score of Star World's lineup. Then, I discovered the song. I might reverse the stand I took 3 songs ago. This one is filled with beats, but the weirdness quotient is still there!
Top of the World: The Carpenters ;) A bad tribute paid!

There are so many more, but why don't YOU help me? :D
Hmm, whom shall I tag ??.....

Auster He filched the doggy picture! No fair!
Jax Pre-emptive strike! Muahaha!
Oneirodynic I just feel evil!
Senthil still snapping pictures and not snapping his fingers!
Deepa She's being tagged like crazy too

Take the tag, or don't take it *sigh*

Pal

2006-01-28T08:29:00.000-08:00

This is one of the cutest dogs of my acquaintance.
His name is Pal (yeah, the poor thing is saddled with it) and he's around 10 months old. A proper young man about town, or at least the streets of Bapuji Nagar.
Ah yes, he's a cocktail, literally... A Cocker Spaniel-Lhasa Apso crossbreed. Me thinks he's inherited enough of the Apso ;)
His very proud surrogate daddy asked me to post his picture on my blog.
So here's Pal.....

Love & All That Jazz

2006-01-25T12:27:00.000-08:00

"Noooo, you can't make me do this. Please?!"
Aswin closed into the hapless Shrutz, rubbing his hands together and cackling in a fiendish manner. "Err, why am I cackling fiendishly?"
Shrutz was annoyed, "Because you just tagged me, you... FIEND."
"Ahh, yes. You have to tell me who your perfect *cough cough* lover is.", continued the devil in human guise.
Shrutz nearly choked on her scream, or would have if the scream were solid. "I thought my feelings on *gah* LOVE were pretty well documented.... Please, buddy boy, don't make me do this! Main tumhaare pair padti hoon. Mujhse yeh NAHIN hoga!"
But alas! This was to fall on the deaf ears of the So-called-Casanova formerly known as Aswin. Knowing the fellow as well as I did, if I didn't listen to him, there would be HELL to pay when I saw him next, mainly in the form of food and Sprite. My pockets weren't that deep.
All complaints about this here post maybe addressed to the link given above.

Here's the funda behind the tag. Yeah, apparently, there's a funda.
1) I am supposed to talk about eight characteristics of my soul-mate. (Yes, I did substitute the original word used. ;) I am kinda li'l prim and propah in some ways.)
2) Tag eight other people. Yes, that would be unsuspecting people who would HATE doing the tag. Yes, that is the reason I took up the tag without much fuss. Yes, I am a sadist. No, you can't do anything about it.
3) Inform them in their comments that they "been issued a lurve tag". Hmm, maybe there are perks to this tag.
4) Go back to sleep, a happy camper, secure in the knowledge that the blogger world is a slightly unhappier place since your last post.

At the outset, I'd like to inform all and sundry these pertinent points about the Shrutz behind the blog.
1) I don't believe in soul mates.
2) The last time I made a list about the "ideal guy" in my life, Angel and I had a wonderful Yahoo discussion for two hours. At the end of this wonderful conversation, both of us had a long list which we promptly agreed was a cartload of crap.
3) No person is a list of qualities. Everyone is above and over a bunch of adjectives.
4) I don't believe in knights in shining armour, or white stallions or soft pink confetti.

Yes, the preliminaries have been concluded. You, little boy, you may open your eyes. Aunty Shrutz promises she won't be mean anymore!

Without further ado, with a flourish of trumpets, here're eight things about my dream guy.

He must just be goodlooking enough. Weird sentence, right? It means he shouldn't be prettier than me. Yeah, I do hear the whispers of "That must be REALLLLY hard." That's okay. If the guy is more goodlooking than I am, I expect him to go break his nose and a few teeth to boot in order to level the playing field out!
He must be empathetic and a strong shoulder to cry on, doze off and rest my head on when things get too hectic in my brain; what with all those multiple Shrutz's clamouring for attention and all that, my brain DOES get overheated!
The unlucky fellow must be calm and capable of handling my craziness and periodic outbursts. My heart already goes out to him in commiseration for the torture he will have to undergo. I know of at least three guys who have hit their heads repeatedly on whatever flat surface was available to them when I started on my weird logic.
Intelligent conversation is a must. Pretence annoys me and silliness bores me. The definition of intelligent conversation, to me, is not a lengthy discourse on the works of John Milton or the Rise & Fall of the Roman Empire. Everyday talk would do fine, as long as it doesn't get too dull & prosaic. I can while away any amount of time talking about anything under the sun. Unfortunately, the listener must reciprocate too!
He mustn't make weird noises while eating with his mouth open... HUGE turn off, people!
Oh wait! The guy must be tall. I am so vertically deprived, I'd like a tall person around to take the books off the top shelf!
THE guy must not live in low-waist-fall-off-if-I-sneeze jeans 24/7. In fact, these are more or less a no-no. Long hair, NEVER!!! There's only room for one person's hair brushes and shampoos in this relationship, buster and it ain't you!!!
Respect. Given and taken.

I am tagging these unfortunate souls to share the torture.
DJK because she specifically asked me not to.
Ranj, 'cos I am curious.
Puneet He was in the wrong place at 3:30 am.
Angel because we've already had this conversation.
Binu, he WANTS to do it, crazy guy.
Jax He's been propositioned to by a guy. NOW, I am curious.
Girish It's an open-ended question for the SAP dude.
Vignesh He's too obsessed with this.

An afterthought... Rishab. Which way does the river flow, dude?!

The Me I Wish I Was

2006-01-19T19:08:00.000-08:00

Writing a Statement of Purpose has made my life seem just a long saga of wasted youth and aimless wondering.
In an ideal world, the SoP should have been a snap of the fingers and a wave of a magic wand (plus some fairy dust) away. On the subject of a make belief life, I am very strong. I strongly wish it were true.
Just sometime ago, I was complaining that life was too laidback. Welcome back, real world. I have been gobsmacked into the middle of about a million forms asking me the same questions over and over again.. The sad part:- No answers yet.

Why do you wish to go for a management career?
I went into BTech and I realised that the Mtech colleges wouldn't like to have me. Most of them didn't understand what the hell I am talking about! I heard that could be an advantage for a manager. Then there was this exam called the CAT. Your institute said "Okay, let's hear you yap." So, I am trying my luck here! Please don't let me down. I won't be able to stand the rejection...!!
Ideal Answer: I was interested in management since a very young age when I used to manage a chaikada outside our house. We soon expanded into handing out pazhamporis and bondas. My life ambition has to be to sell ice creams to an Eskimo. In my free time, I like to trade in the stock market. I am already a millionare. An MBA is just to hone my already tuned skills!

What alternative(!!) careers are you considering and why?
I am a Malayalee and am proud of my heritage. Coconut plucking seems the ideal avenue for me to exploit my Mallu talents. The pay and the hours are excellent. Who knows, maybe one day I might be the CPO (Chief Plucking Officer) at Goldman Sacks! In five years time, I plan to float my own company called (what else?) Thengakolla.

Describe your strengths and weaknesses?
Strengths: Hahahahahaha. You think I'd be blogging about this if I knew? SERIOUSLY?
Weaknesses: A propensity to take things lightly. Also a prelidiction to using "P" words. Petty, eh?

What is your most significant accomplishment to date?
I am 21 years old. I have just now been allowed to cross the road on my own by my paranoid mother. What do you think? I invented the Polio vaccine? (That's Jonas Salk, by the way!)
Ideal Answer: Floating the start up company Thengakolla

What are your present hobbies?
Anything that sounds good enough on the resume but could be broadly classified under "Lazing around doing nothing."

Discontinuities in career.
Disc.... ZZZZ...huh... what? How? When? THIRTEEN years? I was SLEEPING? Whaddameanbythat?

Indicate your extracurricular activities.
Fortunately, this is a euphemism. During my EXTRAcurricular time, I sleep. It is very refreshing. Then, when I get bored of sleeping I blog to let people know I was sleeping. After which I go to my curricular activities, which encompasses sleeping in class.

Are you familiar with computer hardware? (Please tick)
Yes --- No --- Hardware?--- Computer?---
Where have you used computers? (Please tick)
Home --- Office --- School/College --- Cybercafe --- I have been sleeping for the past 13 years and have no idea what computers are---
Do you know how to use a web browser? (Please tick)
Yes, I point, click and close. --- I use the whatcha call it, mouse--- No, I have been living in a hole for the past 10 years and came out to fill out some forms.---

Identify a significant incident or situation from your life.
When I was a small kid, I told my father I wanted to know everything. Then I pointed to a large pipe on the side of the road and asked him what it was. He said that it was something that elephants used to make puttu. Then I pointed to the windmill and asked him what THAT was. He said it was the elephant's fan.
Because of these questions, I am what I am. I know that the world is a giant conspiracy. The elephants are nigh!

Have you suffered from any illnesses (including mental)?
NOT at all. I am hale and hearty. In fact, I am haler and heartier than most! Please don't listen to the other voices!

And finally....
Statement of Purpose. This, my friends, is it, the big DADDY, the clincher . What can one say about a purposeless life? The euphemistic statement would be "I have tried a million different things."
That might be true enough...
Okay, I be out to shed some light on my purposeless life...Oh God, to have invented the Polio vaccine!!!

Bug me, Bug my blog!

2006-01-11T18:31:00.000-08:00

DJK has tagged me my 20 pet peeves.

But waiddadamnedminute! The last few posts have been quite personal, don't you think? This just might be the nail in the coffin. My readers are going to flounce away, knowing way too much about Shrutz than they ever wanted to know!
Hmm, maybe I will take that chance?
Here's an aside to a very good friend of mine who was surprised by some of my revelations in the past few blog posts. She was a bit upset she didn't know those facets in my character.
Okay. Who cares if you didn't know I love stitching, you know everything you need to know and isn't that enough?
Why did I do this on my blog?... Because, she's very special to me and she needs a reminder that she is very special! Here's to you, girl, you better know who you are!

Okay that aside done, let's delve deep into those "bugger alls" that are going to be the talk of the town! The peeves are not as much pet as wild and untamed. So take heed!

1) I can't stand (I really mean it) guys who stand about in groups staring at girls and commenting. Roadside Romeos, as a matter of fact. Funny part is, it doesn't have anything to do with age. Teenagers and Thirty year olds are equally bad! The woman concerned can be 14 or even 60. They just can't let go! I just can't understand the thought process that goes behind that. Maybe it has something to do with their caveman instincts kicking in.

Scene: A Neanderthal cave where humans have just discovered the use of their opposable thumbs and their vocal chords. The former was involved in the first documented permission for a "lift" and the latter... Well, you just got to know!
Neanderthal Man1: (seeing a girl rush past to escape the unwelcome flirtations of a caveman brandishing a club) Urgh... Gnah... Pshh
Neanderthal Man2: (Talking in Neanderthal code just loud for the girl to hear and cryptic enough for her to know they are talking about her) Hmahd... ajspam.... Grrr... Grunt.
(All Neanderthals nod assent as if they have discovered fire) Arghhh...

I still don't understand it.. Maybe, that's because I lack a Y chromosome!

2) People who can't take a hint unless it comes back to them and bites them where it hurts them most!
Have you ever had that weird feeling when you have entered a royal sulk and the person at whom it is directed is least bit bothered or even understands that you are annoyed! Well, what DO you have to do? Attach a signboard that says "In Sulk. You are reason. Kindly make things better. You idiot!"?

3) Bad spelling & grammar. My hand itches to correct it. I know it's rude and I KNOW it's bugging to the other person, but I still do it....

4) Auntyjis & Unclejis who think I have nothing on my mind other than to get hitched to a guy. The conversation usually runs on these lines.
A/U-ji: "So, you are almost done with engineering, eh?" (Secret smile they like to think is very mischievous with a knowing wink & nudge)
Me: (nodding head hesitantly) "Well, yes, in 4 months or so..."
A/U-ji: "Soooo, mole, what are your plans like?"
Me: "Well, I'd like to either do my MBA or work for two years..."
A/U-ji: "Tsk tsk.. What about a nice guy?"
Me: "Well, what ABOUT a nice guy?" (With a weak smile) "I guess there's time enough after my future studies and some work."
At this juncture, Aunty/Uncle-ji turns to Mom and asks her if she has any plans, seeing as they know a nice boy who works in Bangalore....
My mom is well acquainted with my murderous looks at those hapless souls and she's already pitying the nice boy in Bangalore. "She has other plans.. And she's my baby. So, neither of us is in a hurry."
Attagirl, mom!

5) People who eat with their mouths open. No, I don't want to see your molars grinding the chappatis into paste, or do I want to see your canines tearing into the chicken. I'd rather all the activities in your mouth were private!

6) Public displays of affection between guys. I get uncomfortable really quickly. Have you ever seen men walk hand in hand, swinging their oh-so-lovingly clasped appendages as far as they can and with a sweet song hovering around them, till you'd be excused if you thought that there wasn't a sweeter couple in the whole wide world. Of course, any public show of affection scares me; thankfully they aren't too common in Mallu-land!

7) Girls who simper and preen to get things done. Of course, you will have met them. These are the ones that talk in a breathless voice and giggle in a femininely irritating falsetto every opportunity they get.
Damned irritating girl to boy: "Ohh, could you open this bottle for me” *giggle* "I can't get my hand around its lid properly."
Whereupon guy opens bottle through sheer stringy muscle power,
Damned irritating girl to stringy boy: "You're so nice to help such a weak female like me."*giggle* "Thanks a lot..."Inane chatter follows punctuated by many MANY annoying laughs.

8) Most phone-in music shows get my goat. The vacuous VJs hardly make things better. The conversation from either end can hardly be called STIMULATING!
VJ: So, what do you do?
Caller: I am Utpreksha, a student at the Jhumri Thalaiya Higher Secondary school where I am doing my 12^th standard and I LOVVVVVE 'N Sync. Justin Timberlake rules. Woohoo!
VJ: "So, who else lives at home?"
Caller: Mom, dad, sister Anjana, brother Elvis, my dog Rover, my cat Kitty and my parrot….
VJ: So which song would you like?
A teeny-bopper song is named, whereupon
VJ: And whom would you like to dedicate this song to?
Caller: To my best friend Shilpa.
VJ: Okay
Caller: (continuing)...and Tinku, Rinku, Dinku and their friends Laju, Saju, Raju, Kaju, their boyfriends and girlfriends. My dog Rover, my cat Kitty, my favourite teacher Ms. Reena, the bus conductor on my school bus, my mom, my dad, Justin Timberlake... And of course, you. You are SIMPLY THE BEST!
VJ : (Not at ALL red) Sure, thanks, girl. You ROCK!...and so on.

9) Jennifer Aniston as Rachel and David Schwimmer as Ross Geller in Friends. They're too darned irritating. Let's see the story progress
Ross and Rachel get together.
Ross and Rachel break up.
Uhuh, Ross and Rachel get back together.
*blink, you missed it* Ross & Rachel break up.. AGAIN.
Together...
Break up..
In the middle of this mess...The pitter-patter of baby feet. Oh look, they might or might not be together.
Frankly, noone cares anymore!

10) Backstabbers.

11) Linux-based computers in our college lab that take 1 day to boot.

12) Road rage addicts who start leaning on their horns in a gridlock. Apparently, they think that the sonic blasts will
Either 1) magically clear the road ahead for them or 2) enable them to sprout wings and take to the skies in their trucks (or luxury vehicles)

13) Ekta Kapoor and her irritating mega-serials where the woman are always clad in silk saris and the men are interchangeable. Where in a jiffy, the 28 year old heroine has become the 45 year old mother of a teenager who sprouts 2 pigtails and lisps about how great her ma is. For our lil Ekta, it seems to be, "Jab tak mujh mein ek aur saas hain, main serials banaati rahoongi."

Give us a primetime break, Ms. Kapoor!

14) Politicians playing their endless games of strategy. It gets boring very quickly.

15) Any chain-mail forward.

I am unable to get the logic behind If you don't give me 20 pushups and send this mail to 20 others before 12:20 am tonight, you will be cursed with eternal dandruff and hairfall. The more people you send it to, the healthier you hair will be. XYZ got this mail and ignored it, now she is wearing a wig for life, ABC got it, was a believer and sent it to 50 people and now she appears in L'Oreal advertisements. PQR sent it to 10 people and now, half of her head has shiny hair and the other half is bald. She's making a fashion statement, apparently. Of course, I know what has happened to people who got this message and reacted to it before I actually sent it, because I have shiny hair that helps in clairvoyance. Oh yes, and also...I think that shade of red lipstick doesn't really suit you, Mr.Brown.
Exercise your gray cells, exorcise the chain forwards.

I really don't want a forward unless it makes me laugh. No, I don't think if I forward 'If you don't forward this, you don't have a heart', some gift wrapped baby will get one cent, and I know for certain my heart is in its right place… in my rib cage. No, I definitely don't think that Yahoo is magically going to shut down its messenger one fine day and I am sure Jack Russell has other things on his mind!

16) SMSes from unknown numbers that start with "how r u doin, da" for 2 reasons
i) I don't know you
ii)The dictionary and word complete is given in mobiles for a reason. USE it wisely.

17) Writer's block. I can definitely live without it. So can the numerous sheets of paper and chewed pencils!

18) Smokers who, not just content to put an early end to their life, pass on second hand smoke like they are doing the rest of us a favour.

19) Folks, who, knowing that you are invisible on Yahoo for a reason, keep pinging you and sending a million audibles a minute.

20) The fact that inspite of the fact that I seem to dislike so many things, I can't really put TWENTY pet peeves on my tag without spending 3 days on it!

I pass this on to Densel

Close Encounters of the Cute Kind

2006-01-07T18:56:00.000-08:00

As a young toddler growing up in the green plains and sarson de khet in Punjab, and later in Nizam's land, Hyderabad, I had the habit of cooing "Cho chweeeeet" at anything that caught my fancy. This has led to most of my Dad's Army pals calling me the "Cho Chweet girl" on seeing me even now.
Yes, I was a very cute kid! And, sorry, no wise cracks, please!
This was the actual reason for the aforementioned phenomenon. Hearing people chant the "so sweet" dialogue to me everytime Mom took me to an Army party, I learnt to parrot it back to the listeners. ("Oh, she is sooo cute and so clever too."gushed the ladies, whereupon I ran around the Mess, looking too cute for the people to have a mind to stop me. Well, maybe being cute had its perks?)
The only person my cuteness didn't work its magic on was a guy called Gorbachev. Well, not exactly Mikhail G. The boy was around an year or so old when I was 3 and was the son of my Dad's second lieutanant. Why Gorbachev, you ask? Well, he had an unusually thick thatch of hair as a baby. Yes, really, I am kidding! To date, I don't know the boy's name. We still refer to him delicately as Gorbachev. Of course, the sentence usually reads, "That Gorbachev really had it against Shruti, nah?"
Yes, he did. Even at this advanced age of 21, I can remember fleeing for my blessed life from a 18 month year old toddler determinedly waving a plastic cricket bat and toddling as fast as he could to, in my mind, hit me on my head with. I ran up the stairs and made faces at him from the comfort of the topmost step.
Back at Trivandrum and in school, I was, as jotted down earlier, a cute little brat. (I soon grew out of two of those three states ;)). Seniors used to pinch my cheeks in the bus, old ladies used to comment about my pudgy hands when I used to travel behind my mom on her Kinetic, hell my classmates used to ruffle my hair. The cutesy bit was definitely getting annoying!
Hands off, people! Shrutz is growing up. The pinches on my "oh so chubby cheeks" didn't stop. But, by the time I was in 12th, they'd subsided to the point where people used to wonder where the cute Shrutz had disappeared. Somewhere along the line, I became the ferocious Shrutz that people know and are scared of. (Muahahaha!)
Well, actually I lie, the one memory etched in my memory is that of my 11th standrad juniors falling me as one, on Teacher's Day (and while I was wearing a sari too!) gushing, "Oh, your cheeks are sooo cute!"
I mean, WHAT is everyone's obsession with my cheeks?!
What prompted this post was a group of 14 - 18 year old girls in our new apartment complex. Individually, we share a smile when I pass them by on the elevator or playing out on our courtyard. But, yesterday, after our New Year's program, I said my kudos and bye. Out of nowhere, (after a hiatus of 3 years!) out came the dreaded "Oh you are so cute" *cheek pinch*
That did it, the four girls overwhelmed me with demonstrations of how much my cheeks could stretch. Unfortunately, all of them were taller than me and standing two steps higher, or I would have... err, I would have meekly submitted to cheek pulling..
I vaguely muttered something about juniors torturing elders nowadays.
One of them actually said "Cootchie Wootchie!"..
That was absolutely the last straw!!!!
NOT cootchie-wootchie, please!!!
I think this is vengeance from all the kittens and puppies that had to endure my over-exuberant demonstrations of affection.
Snowy, Blacky, Dopey, Cat-without-a-name-at-godma's-house, I apologise for all the misplaced signs of love I bestowed on you.
BUT... at least I didn't say "Cootchie wootchie!"

If life gives you lemons.....

2006-01-06T05:48:00.000-08:00

Make lemonade....?
Wrong!
The lemon in question is the car I keep zipping (or trying to) across the city in!....
It's a Fiat Uno, diesel and no power steering. Yes, it handles just like it sounds.. Like a damned mini truck.
"I don't want to take that car anymore." I whined to my mother. "Can I have the Palio, please?"
"Take that car and feel grateful that your cousin is letting you drive his car around Trivandrum for 3 years...."
"Well I would feel more grateful if it didn't wrench my hands off its sockets everytime I want to turn the car around college. I'd worship it if it had power steering. I would have given it the red carpet treatment inside and out if it's ac and stereo were working..."
"It takes you to college everyday."
I was continuing unabashed ".... of course, it sometimes feels like a bus too.... especially when all the girls pile in!"
"Then you deserve the Uno."
"WHAT?? I have been driving for soooo long! You still treat me like a kid..."
Minor tantrum follows!
"Mom! You never sleep when I am driving. You keep looking at the speedometer and I hear coughs when it hovers around 70-80! You want me to drive like a granny at 55 on the NH!"
I looked around and my mother has vanished into thin air. I picked up the car keys all the while grumbling about my perceived problems.
Before I stepped into the elevator, mom popped out with a final warning "And remember, never switch off the car for a small interval of time. It doesn't start once the engine has overheated.."

The car reached college without thankfully going into its characteristic outbursts(!) of sputters and false starts.
Eighth semester has been a blessing of sorts. After contemplating chocolates handed out by the wayfarers of S8,AE, the girls spent some time playing games and then, realising we need to "shift ho" in the immortal words of Mr.Wooster, did just that.
(If the previous sentence made your head ache, I recommend aspirin!)
Things went swimmingly till the Driving Miss. Crazy crowd reached Overbridge. Seeing 70 seconds on the clock, I switched off the car (to do my bit for the environment!) and began talking to my friends...
At the 50th second mark, I realised that the jig was up and the car wouldn't start! I suddenly realised how a bank robber might feel when his getaway car didn't get away as quickly as he'd hoped he would!
"Err, girls, the car will not start."
My poor friends, they had so much trust in me!
"Nah, Shrutz, we have so much trust in you. The car will start."
I was praying for a miracle of St. Lourdes now. "Please god, you and I have a deal, remember?"
3...2....1....
I shifted the car into neutral and hope the natural gradient of the road was steep enough for it to glide past the bridge and onto some space where I could park.
"Yay! It's working." was on my lips as the car rolled to a standstill on that treacherous piece of land over railways line known to all and sundry as Overbridge.
"Dratted car!!!!", said I.
"PAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRPP PARP PARP" went the KSRTC bus behind me.
All four of us were the shade of red that most tomatoes aspire to be.
"Please, let there be a policeman."
And, voila! One materialised and demanded if I didn't know how to drive a car.
I was hoping he wouldn't ask if I was old enough to drive and make a fuss "Err, the car's not starting."
"Not starting? Did you try to start it??"
"No, I tried my new Vedic hypnotism method on it..."
I swallowed of my sarcastic retort and mumbled, "Well, I did." To accentuate my point, I turned the ignition again and stared at the temperature gauge that was steady at 110 celsius.
"Okay, we need to push it!", the policeman took charge.
The girls looked at each other, sighed and climbed out of the car, while I shifted gears into neutral again and disengaged the clutch.
The car rolled gentled along the bridge as the city bus accelerated past with a disdainful puff of smoke that made pedestrians cough and gathered momentum down the incline.
The guys were watching the spectacle of girls pushing a car and I was wishing I was somewhere else, like maybe with them, laughing at spectacle of the girls pushing the car.
People came up with innovative ideas. "Call a mechanic!"
"Duh?"
"Well, the car will start properly once it has cooled down."
"Is this a car or a steam engine?"
"Uhm, I'll ask the Fiat guys?"

All I can say is, parking a steam engine must have been a b*tch!

Shades of Shrutz

2006-01-02T16:58:00.000-08:00

My name's Shruti. That means Vedic verses. My surname is George... Interesting combination, but hey, it gets me the email addresses I want, without the extra addition of random strings of numbers! My middle name I seriously don't appreciate, because it usually ends with people dropping my surname, as in
"Kumari (!!) Shruti Susan"....
That's Miss. George to you ;)

I am 21 years old. I hate being reminded of that, especially now that toddlers call me "aunty". But I dislike anyone calling me "kiddo", which is how a lot of my family treats me.
"Oh. But she's just a kid. What can she do?"

Then again, I can't believe I am 21. Just 4 years ago, I was the seniormost in school and enjoying every bit of it. 21 seemed like a huge number, an age where things finally made sense and the world would right itself out. It hasn't happened yet!

I am a Scorpio. I am loving every moment of it, if only for the sheer pleasure of being regarded rather warily by people who think I am being sarcastic and cynical most of the time!

"Congrats.."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nah. You make us proud."
"WHAT??" This is followed by a rapid reassessment of the poor soul's self. "Is there something wrong?"

I laugh a lot. Or, as a friend of mine aptly puts it, "Shruti, why are you gurgling?" Then, sometimes I get into fits of long silences and blank looks that can be pretty unnerving for people. Chill... It's just me giving the brain cells a run.

So, if you do see a slightly untidy looking girl with a big smile on her face and a slightly fast way of speech, that's just me :)

A Li'l Slice of Heaven

2005-12-30T10:16:00.000-08:00

Kerala's backwaters are well known. Hey folks! This is a kettuvallam that gives you a unique experience..
I think I sent some people some raving SMSes about
The birds are twittering, the waters are serene, the quiet is deafening. I think I have rediscovered the poetry in nature!
This is the reason.
Sunset at backwater!

Typically, the sight that Kerala is most famous for... Beaches! This is not Kovalam, this is Chowara:- white sands and pristine seas near Trivandrum. Lovely to laze about in.
The last picture is that of the high ranges in Kerala. Peermade is en route to Kodaikanal and is well known for its tea estates.

The things that I read.

2005-12-21T18:55:00.000-08:00

Sometime in June, Angel book-tagged me.
Heck, I was very pleased with it and spent 3 hours crafting a well-researched (!!) and well thought-out book tag. It completely disappeared. Yes, my Blogger- life was never the same again!
But, before we go to the tag, here's...

A brief history of my reading habits.
My reading habits are, in a large measure, hereditary. I am happiest when I have a book in my hand and I can read it in peace. Unfortunately, I get many complaints about "Shruti not paying attention to what happens around her."
My dad's younger days were spent lying flat on his tummy on the bed, and reading the book, which used to be on the floor. Informed 'sources' (well, my mother!!) inform me that the maid used to be very puzzled by the phenomenon and used to whisper about "Saab being sick". I have inherited the habit! Yes, it does sound very strange, but trust me, the distance from your eyes to the page is optimal for proper reading. That said, I read even by candlelight! Fortunately, my eyes haven't let me down yet ;)
My childhood was spent begging my sister to take yet another Noddy from our neighbourhood lending library at Secundrabad. But I was in LKG and the only thing I could understand from the books was Noddy was a rather nobbly little boy with a yellow and red car that went parp-parp (or was it peep-peep?). In time, I learnt to recognise Enid Blyton's distinctive signature on her books. Of course, I was still very young and thought the name was 'Gnid' Blyton.... But, I was still a Gnid fan of hers (or his, since I was still confused!)
Growing up, and moving to Trivandrum put me in the company of much older cousins. All of them were in their late teens and early twenties and the only notice they took of a little six year old scamp was when she went to them and pulled their sleeves shouting for "A story!! Please?" My sister and her unfortunate classmate, with whom I used to travel on the city bus had a pretty hard time trying to satiate a first-standard kid's curiousity to hear any and all stories they had. In fact, most of my neighbours remember me as the small little girl who used to trot behind her sister begging for stories rather than 21 years old and in the final year at college.
Coming back to my book history. Hmm, where were we? Oh yes, I was six years old and going strong.
The next two years were spent learning the language and going through all the 'Tinkle's and 'Amar Chitra Katha' series I could lay my hands on. I then actually graduated to READING all the Gnids I could. I spent many a day on the terrace of my house reading Famous Five, Secret Seven and all the school stories. Till date, my favourite Enid Blyton series has been that of the Five Findouters (and Dog!).
My reading became so voracious at a point, I used to drag my dog-eared copy of the Bible and peruse through the stories there. I even remember trying to explain one of the stories in Judges to an amused audience. There was some talk of a "doubled edged sword" and a "nail through the head". My imagination used to a step ahead of my experience, however, and I can't really assert the stories made much sense!!
Unlike most middle-schoolers, however, I scorned Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys. Which is not to say that I didn't read them, because I did! But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what Nancy being titan-haired and pretty had to do with her solving cases. Three Investigators used to a firm favourite, however. Jupiter Jones and his idiosyncracies made for interesting reading. The guys seemed very normal to me, but the cases they solved were little short of amazing!
And... WHO can forget Sherlock Holmes? The Mystery of the Speckled Band had me hooked on to his adventures for life.
Having a sister who was doing her B.A Literature came in handy, when I discovered the wonderful world of G B Shaw and Jane Austen.
In seventh, I found myself in Elloor Library and in heaven too! All the books I ever wanted.
Agatha Christie, Archie, Alistair MacLean, Forsyth, Crichton, Wodehouse, Tolkien, Pratchett... my list grew as I grew up and out of my old likes.
I love reading magazines on a train, but it annoys me when the vendor hands me a Femina or a Woman's Era, when all I want is "The Week" or "Sportstar".... :D
Of late, I have discovered ebooks and the Project Gutenberg and am in the process of devouring old classics.
The saga moves on...

1) Number of books owned: Around 600 or so, counting all the magazines and itsy-bitsy books. It's enough to fill about 5 shelves thrice over. Do the maths!

2) Last Book read: The Class by Erich Segal, Thud! by Terry Pratchett, The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell & Breaking the Da Vinci Code by Darrell Brock.
Yeah, I am reading all four (e-books) simultaneously. The last BOOK I read would be Segal's Doctors.

3) Last book bought: Err, I am a penniless student! Kindly adjust. However, the last book I bought was Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett. The last book I was gifted would be Desert Rats by John Parker.

4) 5+ Books that mean a lot to me:

Carrying the Torch: Dr Ida Scudder: I might not get the title absolutely right, not can I remember the author too well. But this is one autobiography that really inspired me. For those who don't know who the hell Dr. Scudder is, she is the founder of the Christian Medical College, Vellore. This book is the sole reason I even attempted to write CMC's entrance test (on zero preps). She epitomises to me human spirit and the ideal woman who gave herself completely to her beliefs, and unlike many professed feminists believed in TRUE gender equality. To every woman who cries herself hoarse demanding 33% reservation for women to level out the playing field, I recommend a dekko at this story.

Chicken Soup for the Soul series: Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen et al. Quirky, amusing, touching, sensitive in turn. Most of the stories in these books deal with the most difficult of subjects: life. Heartily recommended to one and sundry, including those self professed self-help book haters!

Arms & the Man: George Bernard Shaw: G B Shaw is one of the most pithy writers ever. This play is an absolutely brilliant satire on war and soldiering. It's not really for the romantic at heart, but it is thoroughly enjoyable. Secretly, all girls wish for the strong hero type guys, but life comes as a rude jolt into practical reality. Here it is, "Wake up, sweetheart, and smell the coffee!"

Small Gods: Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman: For those heedless souls, who think fantasy writing is cliched and not really literature, I point them to Pterry. Not to put too strong a statement, Pterry rocks! Both these books deal with religion and belief. These are really touchy topics for most people, But Small Gods REALLY makes sense. The points that are driven home are so subtle, if you blink while you are rolling over the floor laughing at the in-house jokes, you miss them. Strictly a book you must read with both eyes open and your funny bone ready to be tickled!

The Scarlet Pimpernel: Baroness Orczy: Hardly any will have missed this adventure by the Baroness of the French Revolution stories! Sir Percy Blakeney is not your quintessential English hero, but by Gad, does he get his job done or what!? (PS: For those who haven't read the book, I just spoilt half the plot for you...BUT what ARE you waiting for?!)

Sir Arthur Saville's Crime & Other Stories: Oscar Wilde: For anyone who has read The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar's Wilde's short stories & plays come as a pleasant surprise. Like George Bernard Shaw, his Irish wit is pithy and interesting. Unlike Shaw, however, his sarcasm is directed less at society as a whole and more at personal idiosyncracies.

Joni: Joni Eareckson-Tada: Now, how could I have missed this one? Paralysed neck down because of a diving accident when she was 17, Joni's story is one which is not liable to be forgotten in a hurry. It's the story of a life lived and lessons learnt.

The Veteran: Frederick Forsyth: In three word. Patriotism. Honour. Fiction. Kudos to Forsyth!

The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Douglas Adams: How can I miss the king of one liners and set-up jokes. The film did NOT do justice to DNA's special brand of humour! In short, it sucked! Of course, if you are looking at a strong storyline, that's non-existent, but H2G2 should be read, just for the sheer thrill of laughing your head off! And of course, for Marvin, the second most interesting character in books, after DEATH.

Pride & Prejudice: Jane Austen: Eliza Bennet & William Darcy. His pride, her prejudice. Romantic enough for any girl!!

Catch22: Joseph Heller: This is one book I picked up purely on recommendation. I read about half of it not understanding anything that Yossarian and his cronies were upto. There seemed countless strands of storyline that never seemed to be picked up. Until 4 chapters before the end, up in a burning plane with a dying soldier on his lap, everything makes sense. The novel became beautiful...

Anyways, I am passing on the tag to...
DJK because I can!
Vijay a break from Vedanta, man!
Prashant Menon aka Undertaker Two in a row, Undy!
Girish because the fellow needs to announce his "taste" to the world!
Kaus because she reads so much!
Quinty Tit for tat, Ankush!
Senthil Get off your pictures, mister and tell us about Wodehouse!!

Catch-20

2005-12-11T19:33:00.000-08:00

I have been tagged by Quinty.
According to the mystic ramblings of the tag, I am supposed list out 20 pieces of information about myself.
My past history with tags has been rocky.
Regular readers must remember the 55-word story tag, and the "about me" tag (which, frankly, was a disaster!), and I personally will never get over the book tag, which took me 3 days and some 20 links to type, only to see it vanish into the great void known as Blogger. The pain still lingers....
And, I promise you, Angel, I will get back to it and come up with a post that will knock the tittles off any bibliophile!
So, without further ado, here's

Twenty tidbits about Shrutz aka The Trivia Game

1) My first piece of creative writing was in 6th standard, when our English teacher (Mrs. Lily Luke, one of the most wonderful teachers I have known!) had asked us to write a short story which began with the words, "There a smile of joy on her face."
That was my first (and last) tearjerker of a tale. Looking back, I am surprised at what I had written when I was 11 years of age. At 21, you can't catch me writing a story where the protagonist dies at the height of her fame & glory!
In case I have piqued your curiousity, here's the gist of the tale:
Girl is born, parents die in accident which leaves her crippled and in a wheelchair. Girl works towards the welfare of other persons with her handicap. At the age of 18 (which, at 11, is old), she gets an award from the Indian government for "Outstanding Service". Unfortunately, she dies in the middle of the ceremony... with a smile of joy on her face.
Yes, I am still wondering where the story came from!
PS: If you are still wondering how she died, I was 11 years old.. I didn't specify!!!

2) The one book I absolutely hated reading was Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. Yes, it is sacrilege to admit that, and yes, he's a great Booker Prize winning author, but, there is only that much insanity you can bear. Unfortunately, I had to read the book through in order to submit a book report.
My book report had these sentences:-
"Maybe Mr Rushdie was sniffing some cocaine when he wrote this book.... It sounds like the half-crazed rambling of a demented man into substance abuse.... A book you can do well to avoid.."
Well, unless you read in order to murmer in discreet undertones "Yes, darling, Rushdie's symbolism in his books is so fah-bulous. Midnight's Children is the epitome of his literary creativity.." Balderdash!!

3) I love the rain, the smell of damp earth and the flashes of lightning and thunder. When I was younger, the monsoons around Kerala used to be stronger. Come school reopening day, the water would flow through all the culverts and puddles. My sister used to get thoroughly splashed by me by the time I used to get done jumping into each and every puddle I saw.

4) I love stitching and abhor cooking. At one point in time, I wanted to be a fashion designer and spent most of my free time designing clothes for my Barbie doll. Sigh, it was quite fun.

5) The friends I had in school & still keep in touch with are mostly all guys.
This one here is the mosty annoying, irritating, funny and sincere people I know. We spent most of our school life arguing about chalks, studies, his 'casanova' habits (and insensitivity), my touchiness and other people. Those were the days!!

6) As a kid, Shrutz was short, cute, chubby and had a boy cut. Due to which, I got the moniker "Mammatti kutti amma". At 6 years of age, I didn't know what it meant. At 8, I saw the film and was disgusted!
All due apologies to 'Baby' Shalini fans here!

7) I went to learn the guitar when I was in second standard. The sir took one look at me, pronounced me "too small to hold a guitar" and shoved a violin into my hands. My mom never removed her hands from her ears henceforth!

8) After much careful delibration, I'd decided to study engineering in Pune, got a good rank in their entrance and taken admission there.
Once there, I spent a happy week teaching all the girls card games while my room-mate was busy applying a face pack and studying Complex Numbers (all in the space of 2 hours). Within a week, I'd left the college and joined up in CET, or College of Engineering, Trivandrum, which was 3 kilometres from my house.
What did they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?...

9) My mom and I discuss about life and the times at the most opportune of moments:- when either she or I am driving the car and we're struck in traffic, which is a fairly common occurrence in Kerala.
The added advantage is, of course, she's too focussed on driving (or back seat driving) to yell too much at me!
A conversation would run like this
Me: Mamma, I think I am going to rob a bank tomorrow.
Mom: Why would you need so much... (Sudden screeching of brakes and loud honking from behind) WHAT does that fellow think he is doing? Does he think I have WINGS??
Well, that's my mother for you!

10) I am incurably lazy. I will not do anything till I have sufficient incentive and/or it's the absolute last moment. The plus side is, I'll do a good job at it.

11) I love travelling. My ideal job would be one where I got to see the world and got paid WELL for it too. If any of you know of such a job, which doesn't involve door-to-door selling, please contact me. I am VERY interested!!

12) I sing. Yes. Surprisingly enough. 'Nuff said.

13) I used to read to my niece when she was 4 months old. Unfortunately, it used to be my Physics notes on "Electrostatics". Yes, I really think she got it!! And, of course, I am a great aunt to have!

14) I can't ride the scooter or cycle, due to a large number of circumstances beyond my control. Incidentally, I was bought a cycle for my seventh birthday and we had a scooter till I was 18. I learnt to drive the car surprisingly early, however!

15) Weirdly enough, till I was in college, I used to listen to more Hindi music than English. In the past 3 and a half years, I have been busy catching up on what I missed!

16) I used to be an avid quizzer in my heydeys. More often than not, I used to find myself in the minority being a girl. The most number of prizes I won was as an audience member for the Hindu Young World quiz. I answered 2 questions:-
Who was Hagrid's Mother? (Fridwulfa)
The second was a Jeopardy style answer, to which you had to frame a question.
Qumran, 1947. (When & where were the Dead Sea Scrolls found?)

17) I have a good memory for the obscure and the downright silliest of trivia. It spells good luck when I want to deflect the conversation when it's steering too close to home. All I have to do is interject with a "By the way, did you know....?" statement. Of course, I have to contend with some murderous looks being passed my way, but as you all know, into all life, a little rain must fall!!

18) I have never seen Sholay beyond the first hour. The first hour I have seen some ten times!

19) If I am asked any of these questions, I will have no answer to it.
"Who's your celebrity crush?"
"Which actor would you like to go out with/die to meet?"
"From history, name someone you would like to emulate?"
Please don't put me in a tight spot.
Don't ask these questions!!

20) I live on coffee, bread and biscuits. I am a caffeine addict and that explains my insomnia.
Okay, it's time for some coffee and some heavy duty studying.

Before that, however.

Tag, You're IT!
Binu who is basically jobLESS in Trivandrum and needs to open up!
Prashanth who has not blogged after wishing himself a happy first anniversary.
Rishab whom I love to torture.
Kaus who really makes me 'laf' everytime I talk to her
Deepa who is getting all these problems because she didn't rag me when she had the chance ;)

The Sunset Scene

2005-12-02T04:47:00.000-08:00

It's vistas like these that make me glad I live in a pristine (well, relatively) part of India. Of course, the fact that the apartment is on the 11th floor just helps make things better.... Not to mention my (by now slightly used) Sony digicam, which I love.

Words of wisdom are seldom repeated

2005-11-25T21:35:00.000-08:00

Overheard on Y! Messenger.

When you wanna play the fool..play it completely.
It's like cricket..when you flash, flash hard

Thanks, that's not at all convoluted :)

PS: The 'dude' would like to enforce copyright.

Meowwwr! The CAT's out of the bag

2005-11-25T18:39:00.000-08:00

There are butterflies in my tummy and my heart is beating loudly.
On November 20th, what may be called everyone's worst nightmare came to light. The paper was kind of surprising. I remember looking at the front cover for the ten minutes and trying all permutations of questions possible.
"10 one mark questions and 20 two mark questions." I shook my head. "That's NOT possible. Ahh, it anyway gives you more time to look at all questions."
Guess what? SURPRISE! I did not see all the questions! Not even close. More importantly, Verbal was like a bad dream that refused to go away....
Right now, the butterflies are still there. I am kind of like a coiled spring, very tense. One minute, I think I haven't made any mistakes (other than the ones I made unknowingly) and the other I worry about how many circling errors I might have committed. By the time I have reassured myself that I haven't, I imagine that I wrote the entire set wrong... One moment I pull my DSP textbook and try to start studying for my end-terms, the next I am day-dreaming about nothing in particular..
Oh! For crying out loud.. there are 6 weeks left! Could you please get it over with and give me the bad news? The wait's not the kindest thing that has happened to me. My fingernails are almost bitten into extinction and my mother's getting tired of me resembling a harried sheep rather than anything else!

I'd decided not to check my scores, but 4 days later I was at TIME's website looking at what I'd done. The impetus for that particular action:- weird rumours floating around college about my scores. The reason was a string of SMSes flying back and forth.
Monday morning:
"Hey Shruti. What's your score?"
"I don't know I haven't checked."
"Please tell me what your score is. I want to know. I want to know" (ad infinitum)
"I am too nervous to. Why don't we wait to be surprised by the score card? How did you do?"
......
Pause for about 1 hour.
"I presume you know that TIME has put up the key."
"YES. Now please don't scare me."
"Please don't lie. I know you've checked."

A few days later, I'd cracked under the strain of a classmate telling me MY score. BAD idea. Now I am perpetually nervous and counting in my mind.

On a tangential, I've been informed that on searching "CAT 2005 IIM Verbal blog", you reach my page. Of course, with this one post, that'd have become slightly better, right?

Of course, I have got to start studying. Last exam I gave (a Power Electronics improvement), I realised what exactly constitutes studying in engineering terminology.
Read through the textbook in 2 hours flat, by staring at the diagrams and hoping they have imprinted themselves firmly in your head, and crossing your fingers till it's time to start writing and you really can't.
There are about six months for me to while away at the College of Engineering, Trivandrum. It's weird, sometimes you want something to happen so badly that the moment it does end, you are left with an empty feeling and a confusion about whether it's an end or a whole new beginning.
Am I sounding like an eternally confused 21-one year old?
On another tangential all together, since this post already seems to be full of them. People ought to be banned from using the verse
"But I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep/And miles to go before I sleep."
Yes, Robert Frost outdid himself with these immortal lines, but moi is getting tired of hearing it said by every alumnus, or inspirational orator. There is no dearth of poetry floating around English literature.
Please! Next time you have a speech and are tempted paraphrase Frost, go away, go read Ogden Nash and talk about vicious cycles instead!

A very confused and tired and harried
Shrutz

God's Own Country

2005-11-22T12:32:00.000-08:00

The history behind this post is 4 years... Four years ago, yours truly wrote and acted in a skit for her school annual day.. Here it is, unabridged and uncensored...
Don't blame me if you can't read it through, the promised post WILL come up! I am just at blogger's end!

*Insert thick Mallu accent*

Characters

Foreigners

Brian (Australian)

Katherine (American)

Aaron (British)

Indian guide

Vendors

Souvenir Saleswoman

Auto driver

Police man

Politician (well, that's me!)

Dancers and assorted minor characters

(Scene: A market place in Kerala, India where some vendors are displaying their wares. Some Indians are standing there enquiring about the various items on display. A bunch of foreigners arrive on the scene along with their tourist guide)

Guide: And this is one of the most magnificent sights in Kerala. God’s own market of God’s own country... One of the sights you never should miss.. The hustle and bustle of a cheery market in the heart of the city.

Brian: Hmm C P Chinnapaswamy mate...(with unnecessary stress at *a*) Melbourne seems to be more hustly and bustly to me.

Guide: Please Mr. Williams if you can’t understand my name don’t murder it. I am rather fond of what my parents christened me..

Katherine: Yeah! But that's what your tag says. (Points to the name tag)

Guide: So it does Miss. Katheriga...sorry Katherine.. OK anyway this is the main market place and it is my duty to show it to you. As you can see there are a lot of rare artefacts on sale and you are getting a bargain on it.. (To himself) Poor people.. Paavum.. they don’t know what they are in for..

Aaron: Good!! Mr Guide will you give us some time here to talk to these natives and get to know the culture of your beautiful country a bit better? There seems to be so many facets to this place and we are not getting any pleasure out of aimless wandering.

Guide: Marvellous idea Aaron. Ok you people are on your own for this shopping ok?

(The tourists take out big bulky books that say *Rapidex Malayalam Speaking Crash courses* and *Ten Steps to Talking Effective Malayalam*)

Aaron: I get to practise my Malayalam.

( all of them ponder over their books and soon close it)

Katherine: We will refer it when time comes hmm look at me gonna talk to that girl selling those weird masks (goes to one vendor)

( starts sign language...Gestures with her hand asking *what?* and then brings it to her face showing a *mask* The girl stares at Katherine, amazed. She repeats the signs and bursts out laughing)

Brian: Heya Kathy mate I don’t think that she understood your language.

The girl: You talk English....well why don’t you talk in plain English then rather than making some idiotic signs.

Kathy: You talk English? Why didn’t you say do at first instead of staring at me doing all this?

The girl: You never asked. I am a MA in English Literature see? (shows them her certificate) anyway all tourist books say that Kerala is the most literate state in India. More than 95% of the population knows how to write their name in TWO languages.

Guide: (ironically) And that makes them “literate”

Kathy: Why do you carry this certificate around with you?

The girl: Just in case I get a job and go to the Gulf while I am selling these kathakali faces.

Aaron: Oh so that's what they are eh? What’s Kathakali by the way? Wait while I refer the Lonely Planet. Ok here ....Aw holy ghost.. its a dance form. Fierce too by the looks of it.. What are these people doing here getting tattoos on their faces for? Cool!!(turning to the guide) May we see this dance?

Guide: Hmm first of all that’s not tattoos but paint.

Kathy: Aww dude now I understand.. That’s like Red Indian war paint... Only difference is that you real Indians enjoy it as dance...

Guide: Err Kathy your wisdom leaves me speechless. And Aaron we will see this dance in good time...

Brian: OK mate. Anyway I am going there to those vendors who look like they don’t know English.. to brush up my knowledge of Malayalam.

(Walks over to the vendors with a book in his hand and thumbs through it)

Kathy: Isn’t it rather hot here guys?

Aaron: What should a person do here for a good refreshing drink? (refers the book) Hmm well there you ho I am feeling thirsty....Enneke vallam ku.. ku.. kuddikyan tharramo?

Vendor1: Vellum? You want water... thanni? Of course

Aaron: No not water coconut water (gestures up to show a coconut palm) ah THENGA vellum

Vendor1:Ahh karrikin vellum.. very very nice but me assistant go.. put coconut.. down.. hole in one...straw.. long long process saar... I give nice people nice Pepsi.. Coke can open drink..... yummy

Aaron: Hole in one? What’s he playing.. Golf? And why do you want me to drink that stuff that I get at the neighbourhood supermarket..

Vendor1: Good for you Mr..... very very good

Brian: When in Rome do as Romans do.. or in this case Kerala

Vendor2: (interested) What he say?

Guide: hmm that's bad... ayaal parannu romayil arrekyum bol romanmardakutte cheyu...

Vendor2: ente yaeshuve!! avar maarpapaye ariyum? But they in Keralam now

Aaron: KLM?????? More like in bedlam!

(souvenir seller approaches them)

Seller: Saar buy these earrings for your wife.. or girl friend.....or any loved one. Actual cost Rs1000 . For you I give it at Rs500!!!

Guide: 250

Seller: 450

Guide: 200

Seller: 350 last offer

Guide: 125

Seller: Saare ente vaiyatathe ittu adikyaruthe

Brian: What did she say?

Guide: She told me not to hit her on her stomach.

Brian: That sounds painful mate and not gallant! Ok what’s the price of those ear rings?

Guide: She said she will give it for Rs125...

Seller: No! Rs350 take or leave it...

Guide: Rs200 last offer ...

Seller: (shaking hands) Done! Here, saar, your earrings... can I assist you in any other way?

Aaron : Definitely old gal... any more bargains?

Seller: Saar, this mask which we get for Rs1000 we sell it to you for Rs800 at a great loss of Rs200

Guide: She has a great tendency to put extra zeroes where required.. for her gain of course..

Kathy: (comes running) Okay I will buy it.. (pays the money)

Aaron: Hmm Mr. C P Chinna. Now what? What ought we to do? Go visiting any temples? And what’s our transport? Surely not walking again? What about caparisoned elephants?

Guide: You forgot the procession, did you? What do you want to have: The Trissurpuram? In which case we ought to have some drumrolls and bugles too.

Brian: Why? I thought that Indian elephants were found tame and that every house has a pet elephant.

Guide: (snaps his fingers) What do you want to have on the streets? An elephant jam? People have no place to park their cars even and you are talking about elephants. Next thing you will be asking me is if I can do the Great Indian Rope trick.

Aaron: You mean you can’t? Aww golly old chap I was counting on you to deliver..

Vendor1: (to vendor2) Ayal engenne guide inte poruthe ennum? Doesn’t he know that calculators have been invented already

Kathy: OK We get the hint!! So we cant have elephants. So I guess that we can’t have palanquins either? What are we going to see again? Temples, palaces.....?

Guide: The zoo and the planetarium. The museum too.

Aaron: But that we can see in Britain too. We didn’t have to brave a day’s flight and 5 and a half hours’ worth of jet lag to see here

Guide: You want to see temples ok! (turns to a vendor) where is the nearest temple?

Vendor: Nearest Temble down lane.. for Krishna (phone rings) Sorry phone tring tring! (takes up the cellular)

Guide: Nanni

Aaron: So near? And how can that poor vendor afford a cellular?

Guide: As was once said by some poet... I forget who... there is no scarcity of temples in India for a person who cares to look.. As for the cellular, they make enough money! Fishermen carry it out to the sea as well.

Brian: We still lack transport!

Guide: Not to worry only! Autorickshaws are by the thousands here (off stage sound of auto) Aw that's full.. that's occupied too

(Entrance walking side shows. Guide looks relieved)

Guide: the cultural pageant comes to us.. The migrating dancers........

Kathy: I hope they are going to dance some Mohinattam or that Katha kali.

(start dancing rock and western. The guide enjoys it. The foreigners are looking visibily startled, Suddenly a woman enters hurriedly. She is a politician)

Kathy: What the heck is happening here? Where are all the classical dances that the guide books say we can enjoy in India? Chee chee... go away we have no money to give you.

Politician: This is a memorable date in the history of Kerala. I Foolemall Devi, the president of the JFK party and chief minister elect, have decided to act as special enforcement officer for all the people of Kerala to look up and emulate. No more long nights out or noise on the streets.. no more hooch tragedies... The self proclaimed messiah of the masses has FINALLY arisen. Weep not Kerala This is the nemesis of evil

Kathy: I do hope she ain’t no super hero. Because she is a spoilsport.

Guide: No she is a well known politician...

(the dancers leave the stage, one of them furtively picking up Aaron’s bag on the way out)

Brian: This is definitely NOT what I expected!

Aaron: What about the vast culture that India boasts about?

Guide: You had a glimpse of it. They were dancing western dances to Indian Film music. What a glorious amalgam...Unity in diversity and all that.. (gets all worked up) Like the merging of the house boats and the snake boats!

Kathy: SNAKES????????

Guide: Snake BOATS! They are the racing canoes of Kerala!

Kathy: Hmm ! Well I guess this trip WAS an experience!

Politician: Kerala is always an experience unto herself.. The people, the bounties of nature, the resourcefulness of the state.......

Aaron: Ok we go..... Hey WHERE is my bag?

Guide: It will be there somewhere. I mean where can a bag that size disappear?

Aaron: Do you think those dancers???!!!

Guide: Oh no!

(borrows a cellular from one of the vendors and phones the police after much debate. Offstage sound of siren. Policeman comes rushing in)

Policeman: (a tardy salute) You called saar? (to Aaron) This is the polite, Organized, Loyal, Indelligend (!) , Courteous, Efficient Kerala POLICE reporting saar.

Aaron: yes officer! I want to report the theft of my bag by some gang of wandering street dancers!

Politician: I dream of a country where no one is a slave.. aww sorry wrong occasion

Ok I dream of a Kerala where no one’s bags are stolen by any other man. Especially such a dastardly crime as this: The theft of the bag of one of the foreigners who blessed us with their gracious presence. But friends (addressing the vendors) suhurthukale I promise you that I will leave no stone unturned if you elect my party “JFK” to the government. In the upcoming elections you will know whom to vote for.... The foot.......

Vendor: What she say?

Guide: (automatically) Oru kallinem baki vechchekyatilla.

Politician: I ask you again (to policeman) Should people have their valuables taken away from them...VOTE JFK VOTE PEACE. (shouts slogans and hands out some banners)

Kathy: JFK? John F Kennedy?

Guide : No The Just For Kicks party. Very popular in state. This is Foolemall Devi, the president of the party.

Policeman: Madam please let me ask the questions!

Politician: Go ahead police. remember that my eyes are forever there where injustice is seen! hmm Mr. Aaron Nasmith? What did the bag contain?

Policeman: Please madam let me do my work in peace.

Politician: (louder) I will NEVER be quiet when atrocities are heaped on innocent tourists!!

(is pulled away by Kathy out)

Policeman: ok a description of the bag!

Aaron: It was a big hiking bag blue in colour.

Policeman: what were its contents??

Aaron: well clothes and books, my journal, and my slippers of course not counting the sunscreen lotion tan block, moisturiser , astringent and all that.

Policeman: (looks up in surprise) Any valuables?

Aaron: err yes.... some artefacts like some coconut shell masks and shells...very valuable to me

(Vendors look at each other, disgusted with Aaron.)

Vendors: Pishakan, what a miser.......

Aaron: Hmm I am sorry!!! (sarcastically) I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth!

Vendors: Silver spoon. We, none of us here had silver spoons in our mouth at any time... we eat with our fingers so there!!!

Guide: OK u people if you were NOT born with silver spoons in your mouth then give my fees Because otherwise I might never see it again. And I have two small mouths to feed (gestures with his hands to indicate small children) and two big ones too.

Brian: You Malayalees are all dyed in the wool frauds. I feel that watching Discovery is better than coming here for a first hand experience with all of you people. We are splitting.... C’mon mates! God’s Own country *hmmphhh* It should be named the Devil’s very Own people...

(They exit)

Guide: They forgot to pay me....... (runs out) hey.......... my fees!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blogging Off....

2005-10-09T00:41:00.000-07:00

See you people after
1) I turn 21
2) I am done with the seventh semester
3) November 20th has passed me by, with, hopefully, no mishaps!

*sniff*
Love
Shruti

What's in a name?

2005-10-02T08:29:00.000-07:00

"What's in a name? That which a rose be called by any other name would smell as sweet."-William Shakespeare (As You Like It)
The Bard's just been proved wrong, by our very own 'Leader'.
DIC (K) will go to any extent to ensure UDF defeat: Murali
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM: The Democratic Indira Congress (Karunakaran) (DIC-K) will go to any extent, including the withdrawal of its candidates, to ensure the defeat of the United Democratic Front (UDF) in the ensuing civic polls, party president K Muraleedharan said.
The full story's here!
I couldn't I put a better name for this political nexus, even if I had to think about it for a LONG time!

Tagged. I feel like a designer label

2005-09-19T09:19:00.000-07:00

Following the tags that have been floating on Blogger, Senthil finally has had his revenge for what I did some months ago.

So,according to the rules of the game, I am supposed to write a story in 55 words. Before you read what I have written, two pertinent points
1) I don't write stories
2)Nothing I write is ever less than 100 words.
Keeping that in mind, read the following piece....

The bodies of countless soldiers lay on the battleground.

The night was bright with the light of bombs being dropped by low-flying aircraft.

Was it the smell of victory or the stench of burning flesh?

Amidst the sounds of rapid machine gunfire…

“Son, come and have your dinner.”

“Five minutes, mom. I’m on level 10!”

I throw the gauntlet to Binu, Amit, Grafx Gurl, all due to my extremely sadistic tendencies. Kindly excuse!
Oh, yeah! I almost forgot.
Angel, (who hasn't blogged in aeons and needs to get back to it) Ashok, Auster & Deepa who're all very good story writers...
I look forward to the mayhem that is about to ensue.

Five Score & Zero Posts Ago...

2005-09-15T05:50:00.000-07:00

Have a Happy Onam and a prosperous year ahead!
This is me on self-congratulatory mode.. After numerous scrapped ideas and four hours of work on Photoshop CS, this is my 100th post.... Brain Freeze: The Novel
With considerable thanks to Binu for the seed of the idea.
Shruti
Edit: For the geniuses I know... CLICK on the photo!

Of Blogs & Blogger

2005-09-01T14:05:00.000-07:00

I am an unapologetic MAD reader. I love the magazine and have been reading it ever since it released in India with the "Ecchh Files: The Spoof Is Out There."
There might be people who label their humour juvenile and infantile and so on, but to them, all I have to say is "Dweebs!"
Anyway, there was a column in this month's issue (featuring "Harry Plodder & the Pre-Teen Nerds are Acting Bad", sold at your nearest bookstore or psycho ward) that might strike a chord in the hearts of those in Blogger Land.

Setting: Dark room where only the glow of the computer monitor illumines the face of the person (Intellectual) typing out words feverishly onto his keyboard. Second person (Observer) is watching over his shoulder.
Intellectual: "Come look at my blog!"
Observer: "What's a blog?"
Intellectual: "It's an online diary! You put what you do all day in it and people read it."
Observer: "So what do you do all day?"
Intellectual: "I read other people's blogs."

So, here I am, typing away in a semi-lighted room, staring at a Firefox window open at Blogger: Brain Freeze:: Edit Post 'Brain Freeze'... Suddenly, the title of my blog seems singularly appropriate.
Hmm, was I trying to even MAKE a point with this post?
This reminds me of what Browning said to a couple of students about some obscure lines of poetry "When I wrote these, only the Creator and I knew its meaning; right now, He alone knows" (or something to that effect.)
Note: It'd be very kind of all of you to refrain from correcting that quote. I KNOW it's not word for word, but it comes kind of close. But knowing compulsive bloggers (I'm one too...) the first 10 comments will, in varying degrees of politeness, point out what exactly was wrong with my version of Browning's words.. and yes, I will still love all of you regardless of the critique....

This blog's become part of my identity now... Would someone have guessed that when Mumble Jumble was born? I think not...
Why did I start blogging? The reason for that is shrouded in the mists of time and memory. About the only thing that you, my dear readers can do, right now, is to hang on for dear life and hope that this runaway roller coaster doesn't crash into a huge brick wall right at the top of the loop....
....and of course....Check my FAQs for an insight as to WHY I blog?

Here's some joyous news all around... Shruti Fraud is back!!! After the phenomenal success of her book, she's decided to step into the world of... Bloggernithology.

Shruti Fraud's Guide to the Bloggers of the World
The common blogger is found everywhere. From the bustling metropolises of the U S of A, to the verdant green of Africa, from the teeming millions in the Indian subcontinent to the continent of Australia, where the only things more weird than their accents are their animals.
But, the truth of the matter is, no matter where the habitat of our specimen under scrutiny, the common blogger transcends geography to enter the realms of the true global village; namely, the wiseasses are still the same no matter where they live!
Now, it maybe a touch difficult to identify the blogger from the saner people around him/her, but chief symptoms maybe dark circles under the eyes, a propensity to stay up late and a surfeit of links on your Yahoo Messenger that gives you links to "this cool blog".
Then again, a mistake most people make is in assuming that the Common Blogger is as unvaried as a house fly. In fact, there are many different breeds of the Blogger; so many, in fact, that scientists are hurriedly contemplating changing the name of the species and dropping the qualifying "Common"...
Most resemble each other in the same way the elephant's closest LIVING relative looks like its great great (to the power 200000) uncle Mr.Woolly Mammoth...

Classification
Kingdom: Oposculia (lit. meaning small book) The kingdom consists of the bloggers, the website designers, the regulars at forums. Moderators don't belong to this kingdom, thereby proving the notion, "They're a breed apart."
Phylum: Scripscrita
Class: Heberetui ('read', 'you') What's a blogger without a reader?
Order: Ordorita of the Bloggers proper. As always, you must remember that the species of bloggers you're apt to meet only have the common thread of owning a blog. What they DO with that piece of cyberspace is what sets them apart...
Now that we've gone through the basic classification, we may get into the nitty gritty of identifying the bloggers by their traits. In time, we may advance to a level where a sentence might be enough to call the blogger and put him/her in place.

1) Bloggera privatus
This species of the blogger restricts himself to the personal. May be easily identified by sample post that reads
"At 11:32 am, I went and bought a toothbrush.... 2 minutes later,I brushed my teeth...Did the meaning of my life change when I changed the bulb in my room? "
Carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and moves slowly and deliberately. Capable of winning the paradoxical race against a hare. Overanalyses self and comes to slow conclusions, sometimes none at all. Likely to philosophise on length about the withering away of a flower and the passing of the dewdrops. Prone to blogger burnout once theories of existentialism and capitalism get exhausted.

2) Tabullae peragro
THIS particular species is rather varied. One particular subspecies (luxuricus indicus) is the high flying kind, who just get to tap into their PDA/laptop enroute South for the Winter
“Am going to Melbourne. Winter too cold. Will update about work and play from WiFi portal.”
The other subspecies (el cheapicus) hires a bicycle and begs, borrows or steals his way across the state, takes perfect pictures of himself standing next to the statue at the famed temple to an overweight actor and posts them on his blog with the quiet confidence of the true wanderbug:
“This is, by far, the biggest statue of its kind. It weighs 200 tonnes; almost 1/4^th the actual hero’s weight. It’s awesome. Truly a sight never to be missed.”
Flits from one location to another. Very likely to philosophise about the ephemeral nature of Man’s existence from the top of the Himalayas and then, hold an extended lecture on the nuances of French cuisine (or whatever they call eating snails nowadays.)

3)Mensa omniscientus
Easy to identify. These bloggers are all-knowing. From Operating Systems to the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility and the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. These are the L33T men (not usually women) of the cyber-world. Prominent markings include ever-present spectacles and a perpetual sleepiness. Mostly nocturnal, in the quest for more knowledge. Might sprout technical jargon to such an extent that other species feel much smaller for knowing them. Favourite turns of phrases include
“Open Source”, “Free software” & “Microsoft Works is an oxymoron.”
Indeed, this species is often the breadwinner and the lifeline of the Kingdom!

4) Litterae pixica
“Oh look! This is a photo of the house I live in and that’s my dog. That guy walking right towards the frame in the upper right corner… THAT is Amitabh Bachchan! This is a photo of my first cousin’s brother in law’s neighbour’s friend. She knows George W Bush!”
Flashy, colourful, and oh-so-bright. This species take “speciel” care to ensure that their blog looks different. Slightly prone to name-dropping. Cross breeds between Tabullae peragro and Litterae pixica exist and they do share common characteristics. Indeed, some scientists argue that both species are one and the same, but I beg to differ, at least on the basis of physical evidence.

5) Papyrus linkus
“Click THIS for more details... It’s SOOO cool, man!"
Some of these species might be as vicious as the T-rex and about as extinct too...

6) Spotticus witticus
Can be instantly spotted (hehe! like I said) by an innate tendency to laugh at everything and anyone. Maybe mistaken, in rare and borderline cases, for either Bloggera Privatus or Mensa Omniscientus. Doubts maybe speedily rectified by observation of excessive use of puns and long winded jokes. You see.. THEY like to think it’s punny. May become tiresome if they try too hard. Now, now, don’t go THERE!! Earth to reader!!! Yes, man! I am talking to YOU! Has a propensity to turn any incident into hilarity, including the fact that the Americans like to name their hurricanes..
Another sign would be an excessive use of language, in order to confuse the poor soul who is reading the long winded sentence, that details a description so minute and picturesque, that the reader will reach about the middle of that selfsame lengthy piece of prose that started at some point which “he knew not” and realise that his concentration has flagged and he has NO clue what anyone is talking about anymore, leastaways understand where the sentence began and keep hope that, one day, the sentence might actually end, bringing eternal happiness to his life!

7) Metis inundantia
“Today we shall look at how to have great skin. And we shall also proceed to teach OTHERS how to have good skin. And in case they resist, we shall spam their comments with information about how to have glowing skin…”
Noone knows if these creatures exist. In fact, their existence has been attributed to other species of the Kingdom Oposculia trying to outsmart the rest. This author is of the opinion that it is a “coffee-toffee” argument. Every small child will be able to identify this particular species with the ease born of years of practice. Smile and say “Spam”, someone… ANYONE?

8) Vigilo relectum legens
Highly developed sense of sight and hearing. Are able to pronounce judgement on art and culture in a jiffy. Possess sufficient locomotor and cranial capacities to put their thoughts into words. Might not tolerate adverse opinions, though possessing strong ones of their own.
Useful signs to identify the true relectum legens:

Will give bulleted list of why a film/book sucked.
Did I TELL you about the bullets?
SURELY, I must have!

Very useful to have around, in case of emergency advice on which film to take your ‘friend’ to. Take advice with a rather liberal pinch of salt. All opinions expressed ARE in fact individual, not even common to the species.

9) Anally retenticus
The kind that will dot your i’s and cross your t’s for you. This species is unique in that it does not blog, but pokes holes in your blogs for you. This species is an invertebrate and conforms to this format, usually.
“Anonymous comments
Dude, Browning ACTUALLY called him Almighty…”

I give up!!!
Adios
From
Shruti Fraud
PS: In case you think all this sounds Greek & Latin, you'd be HALF right!!!

Colours of Memories

2005-08-26T08:35:00.000-07:00

Life has exploded into activity... a kaleidoscope of colours swirling past me, time punctuated not by the tick of the second hand, but by a series of short breaths. Emotions are charged and the sky is alternately shining and peeking behind dark clouds...

Two months is what it's been. Sometimes, it feels like a lifetime of change and thought. Do I feel the same way I did when I joined CET? No. Am I the same person I was? Maybe. Have I grown up? Hopefully.

Right now, I'm listening to Paul Wilbur, singing in Hebrew. The music is dark and mournful and brings to mind the pictures of Israel. Arid deserts, olive trees, small rocky hills, the shimmering azure of the Mediterranean in Haifa, the vista of the walled city of Old Jerusalem spread out like a picture postcard from the Mount of Ascension, the heart stirring at the sight of thousands of devotees from three faiths around the Wailing Wall, the shimmering Dome of the Rock and ...incongruously, soldiers marching with machine guns in their hands. They're barely older than I and are nodding happily at us Indians. Death and destruction seem so far away, in the Holy City of Jerusalem... Bethlehem is so near.. yet so far. Adonai, Elohim.

Coming to the point of the post, I finally thought I'd put our placement season onto print.

Placements have been stupendous this year. We've soundly trounced last year's record, and still going strong! 607 is here... 800, here we come!
CTS came... took 197... Infy came... took 84... Wipro, IBM, Conexant, Socrates, ABB, L&T, Ashok Leyland, Deloitte, Mahindra, OnMobile.... each very impressed with what CET had to offer and promised to come next year. The college seems to be set for life.
There's a smile on all faces concerned with the CGPU. Many thanks to Samson sir (whose face seems to be splitting with that wide smile he has on nowadays!), Vinod sir, and our very own KK (Chorimaster and all-around-Man-Friday) who has left for greener pastures.

Colours of green.

All my love and hugs to the reps, a bunch of very good friends I made in the last year of college. We've been having a ball, filching the extra cups of tea/coffee, munching on biscuits and cashewnuts, dropping in unannounced in sir's office, hoping to gather just that extra bit of information about placements.
Yours truly seems to be the Queen Bugger!

"Sir, what is the next company?"
"You go away. Don't you have classes? You lot always seem to be hanging out in the CGPU"
By the time sir is done with his admonitions, I'll have sidled to behind his chair, to peek into his inbox for that extra bit of information. Sir'll hastily close his active windows and swirl to look at my innocent face.
"There's nothing I can keep from you lot."
By now, everyone in the room has a smile on their face.
"Oh c'mon sir. We all want to know what's the next company." That's our cajoling mode.
"You give me a list of 10 companies... I'll tell you if it's there.."
We got one up on him. I can't say exactly how that happened! But sir's the biggest sport... he takes it all in stride.
In fact, we sometimes suspect he dangles the bait of a company so that we go and wait patiently for him to come so that we can bug the name of the company out of him...
"Pleeeeeease. Sir."

Colours of sunny yellow and bright orange.

The clapping and the look of joy on the face of the people who get selected. Some cry, some get kicked and slapped. Some are speechless... In a way, we feel part of what they are, feel as delirious as they are, sometimes happier than we did on our own jobs. A feeling of warmth spreads all over, a delicious shiver when milestones are reached. Relief is palpable when friends do well and get through a company. Eyes light up when company after company says they're coming....
The colours of joy! The lights are glimmering in the college late into night, the stillness of the dark is punctuated by clapping and hoots of unadulterated ecstasy.

Sometimes, the clouds gather, the colours turn sombre and bleak.
Dark forbidding grey, black.
Hearts break when people who badly hope for this next job don't get through. Are our words any solace at all?
"There's a next time..Please don't worry. You'll do well."

Words. Colours. Light. Life
Ecstasy. Heartbreak. Joy. Relief. Laughter. Friendship.

The placement season has taught me a lot. It has taught me the futility of first impressions. It has taught me the value of people and being there for your friends. It's taught all of us that friends can be found in the most unlikeliest of places, you've only got to look. Finally, it's taught me that sometimes you just have to turn a deaf ear to complaints. It's human nature to complain!

The colour blue... Blue for IBM... Purple... for what I was... White for the room and a sensation of cold...

It was June 23rd, my second interview. I'd been placed in Infy two days ago, after a great "Inf"erview. After that one was done, I'd known in my heart of hearts that I was in.
I was on a high and had attempted IBM E&TS's hardware test for a joke. (The alumnus who was the boss there was quite an inspiration and had been pushing hard for IBM hardware to come to CET.)
The questions had been easy. But, I looked around the huge drawing hall and thought "All these people. They're really good at electronics. This is just fun for me.."
Surprisingly, I got through. I took out my file and ran my eye down my resume. It looked more like a resume of someone interested in a managerial job, filled with references of organisational roles and extra curriculars.

"It's just for a lark, Shruti." I reminded myself.
My mini-project partner's interview was done.
"So, how did it go?," I asked.
"They killed me. Asked me about my mini project circuits. I 'thalled'"
"Damn. I don't even remember what ICs we used. Just know the basic working and the circuit."
Again, that small voice, "It's supposed to be for a lark, Shruti."
I went and sat outside our interview room on the plastic chairs and saw Aswin (of microrobot fame) and Divya come out. Both of them shrugged noncommitally.

Meanwhile, the panel split and I had the fortune to have the big boss.
"Sir, may I come in?'
"Yes, please take a seat."
I sank down on the swivel chair and looked at Mr. Kurup (alumnus CET, and Applied Electonics grad) browse through my resume.
"Not my mini-project, please." I'd buried it within a lot of nonsense about paper presentations and what-nots.

He looked up with a hint of a smile on his face.
"Your mini-project partner came in some time ago. Could you tell me about your project?"
I nodded and started explaining. In the middle, he interjected, "What kind of counter IC did you use?"
"Sir, we used a mod-100 CMOS BCD counter." I confessed. "I can't remember the number."
"How did you interface it to the LDR?"
"We used a CC configuration amplifier."
"What type of transistor was it?"
"BC 548" was at the tip of my tongue. I swallowed the urge to say something that couldn't be substantiated, though it was true. "I don't remember, sir."

"PLEASE ask me something else... ANYTHING else!"
He went on to ask about some questions I had done in the test. I answered them, though I was dissatisfied with my own replies.
All through, my interviewer's face hadn't changed. It was frozen into the little half-smile. My own smile had faltered somewhat.
"It's just for a lark, Shruti..." Somehow, I didn't believe in it anymore. I knew that if I couldn't get it, I would be disappointed and prayed hard that I would've the grace to accept whatever came.
After 10 minutes of the torture, he nodded at me and said, "Okay, thank you. You may go."
I walked out, with mixed emotions. Part of me wanted to laugh out loud that my mini-project, which had caused me enough grief already was going to be the reason I lost out a job and the other half was a little bit relieved and slightly wounded by the assault to my technical knowledge.

The colour of a muddy brown. Like a puddle, holding promise and fear of the unknown, and equally murky and confused.

I walked out of the CGPU, with my head held as high as I could. Shrugged at everyone and said, "Hey, there's another day. This interview sucked. This job's not for me. IBM's loss."
They disbelieved me.
"Hey come on.. it's you, nah? We know you too well."
"Yeah, so? I had a terrible interview. I won't make it." I proceeded to narrate the incident.
"It was just for a lark." I ended lamely.
Everyone spent some time laughing at me. Dredging up all issues from my marks and how I behaved before and after exams and my general craziness...
"HEY! you can't use all that against me!"
"Oh yes, we can!"
"Shruti...." yelled Vidhya from the doorway, "Go and give some coffee to the panels."
I walked into the CCF, where Gowri was having a blast of an interview, chatting about her wonderful experiences in college...
I felt like slamming the door on my way out...
"It's just for a...Oh shut up! I am just kidding myself."
In the middle of "this being a lark", it had somehow become personal.
"Oh please, god, don't let me be a sore loser..."

The colour of red...

I went back to the CGPU reps' favourite haunt and spent sometime comparing notes with Josen and Subi about their own IBM interviews. They were both equally noncommittal, but I got the feeling it hadn't been too bad for them.
All too soon, it was 7 pm and it was time for the announcement of results. All of us traipsed into the CGPU hall.
Vimmy came in, smiled at me and mouthed something. Arathi nudged me and whispered "I think you got through.."
"No WAY, girl....You didn't see the disaster movie that'd been my interview."
The HR got up and spoke a few words. She thanked Samson sir, Vinod sir and KK and the room gave an ovation to the CGPU committee. All of us grinned, basking in the appreciation. (hey.. we're human!)
Samson sir said his customary thank you speech (We know all his speeches by heart. In fact, Juny can recite his introduction simultaneously as sir does!)
"Now, the cream of the IBM jobs..." *dramatic pause* "There are 5 people selected for the IBM E&TS job"
My heart was pounding loudly.
"Balasubramaniam.G, S7, ECE." Applause..
"Gowri.S, S7, ECE." "That's expected..." I thought.
"Josen George, S7 ECE." Louder claps, especially from the first two rows filled with the reps...
"Shruti Susan George...." My ears went temporarily deaf. I am told I did the "Sushmita Sen look of disbelief and hands to face" thing... Be it as it may, I almost ran to the podium and hugged all the IBMers....
"Vimitha Ann Kuruvilla, S7, AE".. Hey.. Vimz made it too! This was way beyond cool. I looked all around. All our eyes were twinkling and every face was bright under the fluorescent lights.
My heart was singing... The colours were unrecognisable, twirling like deverishes in a dance their own.

PostScript: The other reps were waiting outside for Josen, Subi and I. The guys trounced Subi and Josen to within an inch of their lives. I was at the doorway, smiling, when Vimmy pulled me down the stairs, held both my hands in hers and simultaneously smacked me umpteen times on my back, while Sachin counted loudly. Later, Vinul, irrepressible as ever, smacked me on my hand and Juny had his err..revenge for what I did to him on CTS night with a well timed smack on my arm... The next day, it'd turned black and blue...
The smacks were duly repaid, with interest, when the smackers became the smackees....

This post is dedicated to all the wonderful friends I made through these two months:- Vimmy, Vidhya, Arathi, Vandana, Akhila, Anjana, Deepa, Gayatri, Tina (Pseud-mech rep ;)) Juny (my co-rep and resident CGPU chalu specialist),Josen, Subi, Aravind, Bush-Shinu, Vinul, Arnab, Jince (another pseud), Sachin & Thomas. I don't always see them (heck, sometimes NEVER), but it's fun all the same. Most of all, to Samson sir, who may never read this, but is every CET student's best friend, whether he/she knows it or not. To our beloved KK. The CGPU won't be the same without your wit and humour.
Here's to the colours and the taste of victory

58 Years Young

2005-08-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

August 15th reminds me of good old school days, students standing in the quadrangle; a frozen moment in time, when the silence is almost deafening and the salutes are in place, upturned faces gazing at the tricolour fluttering in the breeze, the petals slowly floating, dancing with the random currents. Then, suddenly, the strains on Vande Mataram permeate the air. The effect was magical, and enough to evoke pride in even the most hardened of souls.
Gone are those days.
Independence Day had a lot to do with the songs we sang, and the silences we wrought. From "Hind Desh ka Pyaara Jhanda" to "Ye Hain Naya Hindustan", from "Janmakaarini Bharatam" to "Vijayi Vishwa Tiranga Pyaara" and the National Anthem, the words meant something special. Was it just the importance of the day, or that of the moment... frozen in time? When did Indianness become not a word, but a sense?
Freedom is inexorably linked to the memories of these songs.... the songs of India, celebrating and cherishing the memory of what was, and will be!
Happy Independence Day, fellow Indians!

2005-08-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

TIME has finally posted their results up! I did quite badly, had a drop of about (uhm let me think) 1900%... It's kind of upsetting, means I got to start preparing in earnest... like Kabir said
Kaal kare so aaj kar/ Aaj kare so ab
Pal mein parlai koyegi/Bahuri karega kab?

Licking my wounds
Ciao
Shruti

Random Thoughts

2005-07-28T08:05:00.000-07:00

I am sorry, I haven't posted in a very long time. The last post, which was a book tag I did, after a lot of pain was swallowed up by the damn server. It'd told me it saved my draft, but, once I clicked the button... it was NOWHERE to be seen.... The torture still lingers!!
Life's being so-so lately. We've been having loads of ups & downs and it's all quite hectic.
Our college is having a great year; we've had 519 placements with 430 odd first jobs and all the reps (and sir) are as pleased as Punch (whoever that is!) The hitch is, I've not attended too many classes this sem and I have no idea what is happening in, say Process Dynamics & Control. But then, consolation is, neither does anyone else!

Then, in the middle of this hullaballoo of placement season, we're having both our seminar and our project design part. God! This is when I wish I'd taken a saner undergrad degree. When the University decides to dump work on you, they do it with a vengeance! Of course, it would've been easier on all of us concerned, if they just did what they did every other year: Take the fact that you are actually attending classes and give you your internals based on that, instead of making you go in front and talk about some godforsaken Electronics subject you've no interest in!

I have noticed this illuminating fact:
The measure of acceptance of your seminar topic by your guide is in inverse proportion to the actual interest that you showed in the topic in the first place. A topic like Co-Simulation for the Functional Verification of RTL Implementation will be picked out from the morass of unintelligible gibberish by the guide, (aka the Homing Pigeon who returns to Home Base: Topics that'd send any intelligent person to sleep in 10 minutes... FLAT!)
So, after some struggles, I finally got a topic approved. The topic, surprisingly enough, in light of my theory, wasn't too bad. So, fingers crossed in that respect.

This semester has also seen us start on our projects. Now, what we're doing for our project has not been attempted by any sane human beings before. Especially not any sane human who is still only doing their undergrad degree. Not to worry... says our all-knowing-project-guide aka GOD (I mean, seriously, you got to check this guy's creds, he's in MTech in CET and we spend half our time wondering what the hell he's doing in Trivandrum still. Whoops! Not that there is anything WRONG with Trivandrum, I mean God's Own Capital and all... but STILL, man!...)
Yeah, anyway, where was I before I started rambling? Right ho! "Not to worry", says he,"We can handle it. We might most probably get a result for this project"
Most probably.... now that doesn't sound too promising. There must be something fundamentally wrong with me, but I can't see the glass as half full here! Our actual project guide (the sir, ie) is this person.
All in all, it's quite fun.. really! But, I forsee a LOT of work in our near futures coming up!!

Since this much work is not really enough for my poor soul, let's add some more, shall we?
CAT fever has gripped CET. The TIME Mock CATs have started and my TIME start page has 'started' (pardon the pun) looking very pretty indeed! Lots of figures in yellows and reds and blacks and greens. In fact, if you stare close and long enough, you'll develop a headache that seems to be a hangover of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (I always wanted to use that one!)... Witness one of these selfsame Mock CATs (so called, since they make a mockery of the fact that the questions asked in the test, in no way bear a resemblance to any of their learning material questions, past or present!)
Me: multitasking by singing songs in head during RCHO
Neighbour: feverishly attempting DI and QA
Me: finding a LA question very pretty and filling in the o's, while simultaneously trying to work out who is taller, heavier and older than Abdul.
Neighbour: finding the constant hums disturbing and looking at me sharply....
What's the lesson learnt from my Mock Cat experience?
1) I have a very short attention span.
2) I can't manage time for peanuts.
3) I really don't like listening to people analyse a Mock CAT paper to death. My motto'd be "Let dead papers be"
That's the Mock Experience. However, what comes next is worse.

Monday: Check out TIME website to see if results have been put up
Tuesday: Bug IIMians to actually understand WHEN the results will, in fact, be put up
Wednesday: Crib about exam to everyone in vicinity and wonder out aloud what the TIME fellows are doing.
Thursday: All of the above, and hear the results are out. Rush to the nearest computer, en route chewing nails to the bone. Hearing friends commenting on dire straits and how worse they will be for the ACTUAL exam. Grin. Bear. Hope that friends will shut up. Wish the CAT thing was done already. Wish it wasn't. Hope that something good might happen. Lose train of thought and forget password. Give up.
Then, of course, was this marvellous experience of trying to get a signature from the principal attesting that I was, indeed, a final year student from the prestigious CET.

Step 1 Write a letter to the Principal, asking for a certificate attesting your final yearship... err final year studentship... ahh... attesting you're finally almost through with college... uhm... throw the first three drafts.. Squabble amongst one another. Decide that the subject needs to be Certificate for eligibility for writing CAT by dint of being a final year student in CET and if I don't get it I am going to be rejected by ALL the IIMs and it is all going to be your fault and you won't be able to say, "X, our prestigious alumnus at IIM-A/B/C/D/E/..."

Step 2 March to Staff Advisor. Realise she is not in college.

Step 3 March to Senior Staff Advisor, who promptly asks you to submit an ID card for actual proof that you actually ARE a final year student! Get sign and recommendation.

Step 4 Saunter to the office (since marching is not really necessary!) and wait for 10 minutes outside the Academic Section, waiting for the Her Majesty, the Queen of all things Academic, to wend her way from her extended (early) lunch break and deign us with her presence.

Step 5 Go to the Superintendent's desk, on firm orders from Her Majesty. Hear Superintendent say that "Actually, the Principal has stopped signing anymore forms (tennis elbow, perhaps?) and has transferred this enormous responsibility to the UG Dean!"

Step 6 Wend way to UG Dean's office, with big group of friends. Stand outside office while the Dean scolds some peons. Hear a phone ring and think Dean is calling you by saying "hello hello"... After slight misunderstanding, stand to attention, while the Dean comes out.

Step 7 Now, this is the crux of the story. I can't be this dispassionate about it. This is how the incident went!...
The Dean came out and we were all waiting with our hands outstretched, like naughty school children, holding letters from their parents.

Dean: What are you doing here?
Bravest Guy: Sir, we need a letter from you saying we are final year students.
Dean: Ask the Principal
BG: Sir, he told us to ask you.
Dean: He can't afford to give us a peon and he expects me to sign the form? Go and tell him, if he can't send a peon to bring the forms in, he can get off the chair! You go and tell him, okay? (Pouncing on fellow who is struggling to hold his giggles) You look like children from very big families ("No sir, our parents had heard of family planning") You shouldn't be doing peons' work. Go and tell HIM "Get off the chair, if you can't give me a peon"

Step 8 Belatedly, realise that you are caught in the midst of a power struggle, and chortle all the way back to the Superintendent's Office.

Step 9 Keep the letter aside for tomorrow and a (hopefully) peon-filled day....
Well, that's about it. More, next time!

It's ALL 'Bout Me!

2005-07-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

Hola there!
Jax is solely responsible for the mayhem & carnage that follows.... It's all about me, and gosh, is it riveting stuff (not really...)

Three Names You Go By:
(just 3?)
*Kusurthi (naughty) to my family, Abashruthi (nonmusical) to my violin sir, Churutti to my schoolmates
*Shrutz to my friends in college and the cyberworld
*Sruti, Sruthi, Sruthy, Shruthi, Sruty.... these are names I don't go by, I usually leave when they call me these versions!

Three screen names:
*Shrutz
*Thunderboltz
*C_devil

Three Physical Things You Like About Yourself:
*My hair on a good day
*My smile
*My eyes

Three physical things I don't like about myself:
*My hair... it's usually unruly and like a bird's nest
*My non-existent nose
*My sensitive skin (uhm.. I was running out of things)

Three parts of my heritage:
*My unpronouceable family name with 20 generations in the family tree after a Brahmin ran away from his house..... (There.. I traced my rebellious attitude!)
*God's Own Country
*The Devil's Own People

Three things that scare me:
*Now that you ask me, I have this strange recurring nightmare of a dentist....
*CAT 2005
*A big zit on my forehead (not really, but hey, I got to do a typical girl thing, nah?)

Three things I want in a relationship:
*A guy
*Sensitivity
A sensitive guy... Uhm, maybe that's an oxymoron!
*Humour

Three statements about you which are not all true or all false:
*I can answer this statement with a yes or a no.
*I am sitting alone in a room at 2:30 am, am I slightly touched in the cranial area? Okay, maybe, that wasn't a statement! But, it did qualify...
*I am planning to sleep in class after lunch tomorrow... err, today!

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeals to me:
The height, eyes & big dimples, though Tom Cruise'd be welcome too....

Three things I want to do badly right now:
*Massage my neck
*Clean my room... But I won't!!
*Sleep!

Three places I want to go on a vacation:
*Israel, for the faith
*Switzerland, for the chocolates, snow and the beauty
*Rajasthan, for the colours

Three kids names i like:
*Megan
*Andrew
*Ghatothgatch (lift off an ad!)

Three things to do before I die:
*Take time to smell the roses (deep, Shruti, DEEP!!)
*Write some rude letters to some deviant personalities I know
*Take my last breath... (duh)

Three essentials in my day to day:
*Coffee
*My blog
*My mobile phone

Three things I am wearing right now:
Black tee-shirt, blue shorts and my bunny slippers!

The people who have to bare-all now are...
Angel, Amit, Densel, Senthil, Rishab aka L.Hyena, Swaroop ... Get crackin', people!

Tag.. I'm It

2005-07-11T19:47:00.000-07:00

I've been book-tagged by the hyper Angel (honestly, those words are so NOT made for each other!) & Me-tagged by the omnipresent, omnipotent, omnicognizant and err.. omnidirectional (!?) Jax. Now I put my Googling skills to the test and got an indepth knowledge about Tags. I'm confused, though, the questions they seem to be asking me don't exactly take me back to times of running around the playground yelling at the tops of our voices.... But then the alternatives hardly seem promising.
Answers coming up next post!..
Oh yeah... By the way, I am BACK!!(In case it wasn't self evident)

Blogger on Break!

2005-06-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

Hello, my ever-patient and long suffering compadres,
I have some breaking news(es) for you, happy or sad, it's for you to decide....
This blogger is busy.... VERY busy.
Do I hear the muted whispers of "What's more important that keeping the discerning denizens of bloggerland updated about the inanities sprouted by the indomitable Shruti?"
My amigos (and amigas!), it's the pressing pressures of work... What DO you mean, what work? I work too, SOMETIMES!
CET has started placement season! Some unfortunate company is going to hire all of us, and if I am (un)lucky enough, I'll be paid to pound on the keyboard day in and day out.... Hmm, now that I put it THAT way, it doesn't seem too bad, eh?
That'd be okay, but this little blogger has to stay back and help the CGPU in its grand designs to conquer the world and put a CETian in every company!
It's a tough job (cleaning, bringing tea, sitting outside the steps swatting mosquitos with a fixed smile on our faces that says "We're the best and the brightest in Kerala. Hire US!"), but someone's got to do it!!!
To coincide with this new season of yelling students. ("YOU are the CGPU rep, tell us which companies are coming on September 6th...", "Isn't that your work? Why are you staring at us like that for?", "Should we skip ABC/XYZ/random alphabets thrown in company?"), my mother has decided to move into an apartment. So, starting from June 20th, officially, I have no net till July sometime...
Some very enterprising young men have laid bets on how long I can last without visiting a cafe, or using dial up instead of my very fast ADL, I have covered all bases.. The odds are 7-1 against me lasting the whole period... *Deep breath*
It's time for some tough love, fellows! I'll post up all the happenings in the middle of July.
Naat to worry! Looking at yesterday as an example, I am sure there's enough wackiness in my future to keep anyone amused for 2 hours, (including my fellow CGPU reps... grr!)
This is your friendly next door blogger, saying....
So long and thanks for all the fish!

Pretty Prose or Prosaic Verse?

2005-06-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

Dearest Friend,
Things don't always turn out the way you hope they ought to. But sometimes, they turn out exactly the way you thought they would, and worse, the way you feared to even say out aloud.
But, no matter what happens, I'll always be there for you.
Sometimes, the thorns in the bed of roses make it hard for you to sit down. Sometimes, the silver lining in the dark cloud seems tarnished with the unshed tears of lost memories that will never come to pass. Sometimes, I run out out of tired cliches to write about.
But, unfortunately, dear friend, I've given you my hand to hold, and you got to bear with me till the end of days.
The little flame of hope may all but have died. The entire world advises you not to think too much. Because it hurts. I understand, even when noone else does.
It hurts too much to be alone in my thoughts. It pains me to see your hurt and it makes me confused.
.... I never meant this to happen.
Shruti

THAT Article I wrote!

2005-06-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

This is the story of an article, published in Indian Express' YES Vibes on 22nd October,1999. This is the story of how even the best intentions can backfire. Lastly, this is a story of how anything can be ammo for two clowns to poke fun at serious people!
For background info, it was written by my friend and I, after a lot of discussion. We had an idea which said "Stupid questions which do not deserve answers?" Number 1 turned into the article which was then published. The question was "What does this painting mean?"

From these humble beginnings, arose....

How to be the Modern Artist

What exactly IS modern art?
Well, actually, it is the tormented inner self struggling to bubble out through the only outlet- the brush (or the way to fame)
What about our Modern Artist's appearance?
Big beard( inches in length or more!), dishevelled white hair, unwashed clothes, unshod feet!
How do you do Modern Art?
MATERIAL REQUIRED: A lot of pain, various cans of paint, a canvas as big as the biggest wall in your house (the wall would also suffice). A pair of big hands (more, if possible), vegetables.
OPTIONAL: Brushes, Palette
METHOD: The easiest method is to let a three-year old Devil of a child do the work, (whirlwind job)..... OTHERWISE!
Tape the canvas onto the wall. Look at its emptiness. Concentrate on your inner self. Do this for a while. Slowly your frustrations will strat seeping through! Your mind starts screaming against the shackles of tradition. No, No, leave your hands alone! Yeah! Till it feels as empty as your head. At the next instance, your hand will grasp the nearest can of paint.
Now, take a deep breath, splash the paint onto the canvas. Repeat with all the colours.
If there is some colour left, put it in your optional palette. THEN you get to use those brushes!
You must've chopped the vegetables beforehand. Make a nice curry out of them for strength. Take some more vegetables from the garden now, twigs, grass, dry leaves and the slightly disreputable object in the corner of the overgrown forest that passes for a garden in your parts. Dip these in the most garish and loud fluorescent colour possible and slap them onto the canvas. Of COURSE, for stunning effect, you most take OFF the vegetables after the slap-dash procedure! (hehe pun)
Wowwee!!! A masterpiece, isn't it?
Oops! Something missing!
Oh Yes! For the grand finale, dip your right hand in a nice, bright colour and place your palm print on the north west corner of the central part of the masterpiece from the south east edge of the easternly placed canvas, facing the setting sun, according to Vastu Shastra.
And... Name this painting?.. Hmm, A Painter's Dream!

Now, we sent this article and sat back, waiting for the article to be published. The newspaper obliged and the article came. People laughed over it.
On my birthday, we got a letter addressed to the both of us, C/O K V Pattom.
Oh! Our first fan mail! We better make a habit out of it, eh? So, both of us eagerly opened the already slitted (and censored) envelope and read through the paper, which was incidentally torn out of a notebook!
Put shortly, the letter informed us that the writer was an MBBS student and gave us some 20 ways to contact him. It further told us that he was very disappointed we (10th standard students writing for a children's section) had NOT done enough RESEARCH for our article and understood about modern artists. Look at M F Hussain, for example, he does not look like you described, said he.
This put us into paroxyms of laughter, since MF was, in fact our muse! After we stopped chortling, we read through the rest which informed us (in pompous words) that the very educated and enlightened writer thought that Philistines like us would not appreciate modern art and its abstract qualities and went as far as to cast aspersions on our ability to anjoy ANY art form....
Okay, so maybe it was my first HATE mail! Both of us composed a snappy reply to this letter, which was subsequently thrown away, since we didn't want to start a verbal war! *sniff* We were sooo mature!
Let the mail flow, people!

One Down

2005-05-28T12:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog
Since I have known you, life has not been the same. I am actually getting rave reviews about my non-life!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Love
Shruti

You know, my FIRST post, is VERY like this one, maybe things have not changed too much!
My LAST exam is on Tuesday, and I don't FEEL like studying. Ma Nature still has a lousy sense of humour and spamming is still present
Though, Gmail and Yahoo have brightened things up slightly!

Every Girl's Manual

2005-05-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

It is in the fate of every Malayalee girl with a mobile phone or a yahoo messenger to be constantly inundated (that's flooded, don't run for your dictionaries YET) by propositions of
"Can I be your friend?"... Here's my reply!!

(Note Please: I don't like bad grammar and punctuation, so all these questions are written in almost-correct English, edited to read better.... I did NOT get them like this!)

Online Queries
Question : "You are very pretty. Can I be your friend?"
Shruti Fraud answers: (You remember her, don't you?) "You seem rather superficial. Can you be my doormat?"

Question: "I went through your Orkut profile. You seem very interesting. Can I be your friend?"
Shruti Fraud: "Yeah, you can. But you've to answer a pop quiz based on my profile. Quick, which class do I study in??"

Question: "You seem to be intelligent and well read and ... interesting (there's THAT word again!). Can I be your friend?"
Shruti Fraud: "No thanks, I choose to exercise my intelligence!"

Shruti: "Hey, who are you? Why did you add me on Yahoo?"
Question: "I have heard about what a kidilam you are. Can I be your friend?"
Shruti Fraud: "Sure, just keep massaging my ego like that... Could you get that spot behind my back as well!?"

In Real Life

Question: "Setup aayo?"
Shruti: "HUH? What brought that on?"
Shruti Fraud: "Yeah, just have to install LoveSucks.exe"

Weird Phone Call's Question: "Hullo I am ******, Can I be your friend?"
Shruti: "Uhm I don't know you!"
Voice: "You know me, my name's ******."
Shruti Fraud: "Listen you *#*$# Ass, I know the Prime Minister's name is Manmohan Singh, does that mean I KNOW him?"

Some people never learn.....

We, The People

2005-05-20T07:28:00.000-07:00

Something to chew on while I gobble up microprocessors! Due apologies for my laziness!

O

India

! What ails you? Why should we, the people, be proud of you?

Should we feel proud of your long history of indolence? Proud that our beloved nation is riddled with a corrupt bureaucracy? Perhaps we ought to take pride in the criminal politics that all parties indulge in? Or maybe that none of our elected representatives can take the blame squarely on their shoulders? The Centre blames the States, the States reciprocate, the Opposition blames the Government, the Government blames previous Governments, the Ministers blame each other, demand each other’s resignation and ultimately the consensus is reached that somehow all the blame rests solely on terrorist groups and/or our friendly neighbours. WHY do we continue to look beyond our shores for our troubles, not realizing that the rot has set in right here in our land?

Terrorism in Kashmir could have been tackled a long time ago, IF our leaders were so inclined. But, if that had been accomplished, then they would have nothing to complain and whine about to the world. And THAT, would not be welcome, because ranting and raving is what they do best, isn’t it?

Meanwhile, our political parties persist in making mountains out of molehills. Their “mature discussions” embrace the ridiculous to the downright pathetic: whether any foreigner could be made a Prime Minister, differences about whether we need an extra railway zone or maybe even a new state on the lines of caste and religion, the “chottisi” problem that some actress is having.... The list could go on, all issues equally earth shattering.

But as anyone knows, all talk and no action could be misconstrued as laziness. Our leaders, maybe to just relieve boredom, embark on some cheap publicity stunts like holding a “Gaurav Yatra”, even though they have nothing to be proud of... and of course, who pays for all this extravagant shows of pomp?... We, the People.

As the case may be, when there is a gruesome incident in any part of the country, like the ones we have been witnessing this past year, the esteemed leaders of the country come to the spot, make some hullabaloo, do their bit of blame-shifting and wave, having done their part for the watching nation. Every such incident just turns into a free-for-all petty political squabble. And this happens, unfortunately, on National TV and newspapers. And you know who are left to lick our wounds?.... We, the people.

We all heard their condolences, their sympathies to the kin of those security guards, the heroes, who died saving the Parliament House on December 13? Their sacrifice was all but forgotten, while the USA is still mourning all the dead heroes of September 11.... Do we even remember seeing their names in the newspapers? The quotes by all the unworthy buffoons they saved, who scream, shout and throw tantrums in the hallowed Parliament was splashed in the lead pages, lending witness to their cowardice. What can we do about it?... We, the people.

Dacoits and Murderers run amok amongst us, and the defenders of the innocent are nowhere to be found. We are left to fend for ourselves. Meanwhile, the harbingers of this doom are involved in more important things, like filling their pockets, turning a blind eye on crime committed under their noses, allotting petrol bunks to “near and dear” ones, letting confessed criminals walk free... And ultimately who suffers?... We, the people.

Strikes (hartals, bandhs, or whatever they be called, as Shakespeare so rightly put it) massacres, collapses of the entire system (put in place, ironically, to prevent abuse of power) are all a part of daily life in modern India that everything has long ceased to surprise us. In fact, a day spent without any such farce of our dysfunctional democracy would be a bigger surprise. Battle hardened, weary and with the same tolerance that once characterised Mahatma Gandhi... We, the people.

Every election, we vote, and hope beyond hope, that this time around, things will change. Maybe, a miracle would happen and we would finally get a responsible government, not one torn apart by internal factions, not one liable to topple the moment some minor regional party leader panders to his or her whim and fancy. A government that is aware of what we need and acts according to our conscience, that will not dance attendance to some superpower and generally make a mockery of us in front of the world forum. Politicians who are at least half interested in “public service”, who can lead from the front and who could help in the betterment of India. Is this too much to ask for? Because, the miracle never happens.

Coming back to my second question... Why should we be proud of our country? Just these words... We, the people, make what India is at this juncture. The people with the courage to be better, who have prospered in spite, not because, of our leaders. The people who have raised the standard of living notches above what it was years ago. The people who know their rights and are prepared to fight for it, the people who have a voice of their own. The people whom our freedom fighters dreamt would make our country a better place to live in. The press, the judiciary, the NGOs, all the people who have made at least part of that dream true.

Ultimately, nothing is wrong with India that the mass exile of all our politicians couldn‘t cure! Jokes apart, our future is in our hands, because, as even our wayward leaders know, one day, they have to answer to us.... The citizens of India!

(10 September 2002, the Rajdhani Express had an accident at Gaya, Bihar. As usual, Our VIPs reached there in order to offer their condolences. Laloo asked Nitish Kumar to resign, the railway placed the blame on Naxalites, and Mamta had her say too...

A question I heard today: How can I be proud of my country? Sad, but true.)

Love Is Being Stupid Together- Paul Valery

2005-05-09T08:32:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to a friend of mine, he knows who he is. He's found "lurve", and I wish him best of luck with it. (Okay, my apologies to the dude)

Love's a many splendoured thing, and frankly, it's marvellous to see the mushiness from the outside (and laugh at it too), but it's hitting closer to home.

So, here's the scenario, of some poor chap who decides to be mushy with yours truly.. (Not that there are people foolhardy enough to try that!)

Poor Chap (PC): Shruti, come here. Let me gaze into your lovely eyes.
Ogre Shrutz (OS): (quirking eyebrow) Uhm, do you KNOW who I am? Who you're talking to? Are you running a fever? How long is it since you checked your eyes?
PC: (Kind of abashed) Uhmm, I thought....
OS: Oh you did, did you? I was assuming you didn't. Ahh well...

Score 1-0 to the Shrutz. Frankly, he never stood a chance.

Okay, on a more serious note, here's a quote I found (Thanks Thinkexist.com)

We come to love, not by loving the perfect person, but, by loving an imperfect person perfectly.
-Sam Keen

What does perfect love mean? Here's my tuppence worth:
Love lasts, in life and beyond. Love means respect, gratitude, forgiveness and above all, loyalty. It does not mean that your identity gets submerged, but it helps you become a better person. Love means knowing the other person, more than yourself. Love means being able to recognise imperfections, but loving all those quirks and idiocy, regardless. Above all, love lasts....
(Refer 1 Corinthians 13... I can't say it better)

With regards to my friend, love for me means being able to say...

XXX & YYY sitting on a tree......

Ahh revenge! Eet ees sweet...

Time Stands Still...

2005-05-04T08:04:00.000-07:00

It's been about a fortnight of rollercoaster emotions since I last blogged... Shoutouts to the people who stood by me and helped me complete everything on time! You rock, fellows!
A shoutout also, to the person who sent me an email trying to get me to blog,.... this is for you!
After being through every emotion possible, at LEAST twice in the past week, I've come to the conclusion what humanity needs is a good Time Machine! Just imagine the possiblities, no more flunked exams, or foot-in-mouth moments... just rewind and be cool!
Anyways, what shall I blog about today? So much has happened, yet nothing that can be remotely made fun of.
So, it's all upto you....
Comment... What would you like me to blog about? (Bad case of cluelessness coming up!!)

The Indian Summer

2005-04-20T21:14:00.000-07:00

I was watching The Amazing Race (7) on tv last night, the racers were in Lucknow. What gets my goat everytime is the fact that whenever India is shown on Western channels (From Agra in TAR1 through Bombay, Calcutta, Kerala, Rajasthan, ... hmm they seem to have come here lots of times), they show what we'd call the seedier and rather obscure parts of India, with cows and humans as far as the eye can see.

So, from watching so much of TAR, I've formulated these rules of reality programming- TAR in India style.

Thou shalt pick the poorest, shabbiest, most unclean parts of the city you visit, whether it be Calcutta or Delhi or Jodhpur.
Thou shalt set for the contestants will involve any or all of the following a) A temple b) A palace c) An elephant d) A cycle/autorickshaw e) a LONG train ride in 2nd Class (after all, a ticket for A/c cars costs SO much when converted into dollars, right?)
Approved TAR quotes include "These poor people have so less, I feel so helpless", "Look at these pretty sunglasses, children","I can't understand what they are saying." (Damn foreigners!), "Juldi, Juldi", "No, *** rupees" (Insert amount), "It's so crowded" (Uhm, yeah, second most populous country in the world... HULLO?), "Ahh, they're driving on the wrong side of the road.." I must say, yesterday had THE funniest quote I've ever heard when TAR racers came to India... They were in cyclerickshaws in Lucknow, and two guys were in a rickshaw in front and waving back at a couple of racers. The old woman looked at her husband and said, "Aww, that's so sweet, I am sure they are gay."

Evidently, they don't know that men holding hands in India is considered a sign of FRIENDSHIP, no matter how much most girls laugh at it. Now, if that had been a guy and girl in the ricksahw... THAT would have been cause for comment.

Speaking of which, most reality shows seem to operate on these principles - 1) token gay 2) token black 3) token insert ethnic minority group and most of them seem to have exciting careers as actor/model/bartender, or model/cheerleader/lap dancer. The best one to date has been one this TAR, Team is dating, The guy's a consultant/POW and the female is ex-beauty pageant winner.. Okay, Let's give it up for the media whores here, thank you very much.

All Indians speak English like Apu in The Simpsons.
Any shops visited shalt be dark, dingy and have a faint trace of the neighbourhood chaikada.
The episode shalt contain clippings wherein contestants confess how lucky they're American.

You know what, we're lucky you're American too....

Writer's Block

2005-04-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

Writer’s Block is something that needs no explaining. It’s that dread feeling in your fingers as you are poised to write your magnum opus. You rack your brains for some of those extremely brilliant but “blink-and-you-will-miss-it” ideas that seem to dawn upon you the times that you don’t have a pen and a paper handy, as in, maybe your dreams. Unfortunately, the moment you do have a nice fresh piece of paper in front of you, nothing comes to fore. You spend some time watching its pristine whiteness.. And sometimes if you feel particularly grumpy, make some artistic inkblots.
You might be prone to getting it when you are faced with your English examination paper, demanding a 300 word letter to Mr. Editor of some National Daily, purporting to report an imaginary problem like “What can the authorities do about water scarcity?” In real life, it would probably be NOTHING, since it is widely recognised as a fact that that’s all the ’authorities’ do! (In fact who are these elusive characters of fiction on whom mankind places all blame?) But since this is your literary effort, you have to come up with some pretty original statements like “Water is precious, conserve it”. Unfortunately, as the more astute readers may note, that’s about all that crosses your mind in times of stress. You chew the end of your pen, thinking about the life giving liquid and how you could use a drink right now and how you need to complete that letter in 5 minutes flat and all that dances in your head is “Conserve it.... Conserve it.” Now, you couldn’t very well repeat that mantra 150 times, could you? Perversely enough, I am beginning to notice that it strikes even when the exam paper has nothing to do with creativity. You just plain forget one word in the middle of the long answer. From experience, I forgot the word “compressor” while I was explaining the Vapour Compression Refrigeration system.
Then there are those times, when poetic expression dawns on you and you see the wind whispering in the dandelion’s ears, and feel like committing your thoughts to posterity. So out comes your paper and pen, and suddenly all that quaint imagery that was crowding in your mind, vanishes into nothingness, and you chew that selfsame, long suffering pen and struggle to get ‘The’ on paper. The title of that creation could very well be “Stillborn: The Poem That Never Was”
Well, did you just ask me why I started talking about writer’s block? It’s simple, actually. I have a pretty severe case of that malady right now! Writer’s block strikes you when you least expect it to, and generally that is about the same time you really need to churn out some pages at your creative best. This tricky syndrome has found no cure, cause or prevention. But its effects include artistic tantrums by the stricken author, global warming from all the trees cut to make the paper that ultimately finds its way into the waste paper basket and even more ecological disasters. You never considered for a moment that this debilitating disease was a cause for a lot of environmental nightmares, did you? Blame El Nino on Writer’s Block, if you must. I am sure you can’t be all that far wrong. Is that a chorus of ayes I hear from J K Rowling, Jeffery Archer (whose inspiration this time around was very strangely, a prison), Salman Rushdie (who is doing the Page 3 rounds rather than getting fatwas) and all you everyday writers?

Yes!!! What Good Omens Character AM I?

2005-04-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

Crowley

What Character from "Good Omens" are you?
brought to you by
Quizilla

TitleLess

2005-04-10T22:38:00.000-07:00

Been feeling rather sleepy for sometime. I started reading "Interesting Times" by Pratchett. I have to say Rincewind is not my favourite. I could be biased, but his character in Last Continent is extremely weak. On the other hand, the more I read about Vimes and Vetinari, the more I like them...
Thing is, I've been feeling rather at odds with myself lately, kind of confused and disconnected. It must be the reactions of all the work I've been doing lately.
Then, there's this small question about blogging, too many things to say, but when it comes down to it, can I really commit to posterity what I really would not like to bring into being by thinking about too much... I don't think so..
I think I will take the offer on being quiet that people offer me ALL the time...

The Ultimate Help Column

2005-04-08T20:19:00.000-07:00

Every year, just before the final examinations start, we suddenly find columns in newspapers, talking about “How to Study and Achieve the Highest Marks in Your Examination”. I usually look at them incredulously, because, to me, they made no sense. Exams always take me unawares. I spent many exam nights swotting up late up until the wee hours, trying to pound into my head all that had taken the teachers ONE entire year to teach. Actually half the time I used to spend staring at the bed, forcing myself not to seek refuge between the cool sheets and the lovely fluffy pillow. So, in view of my ‘advanced’ years, I decided to impart my specialized knowledge in this field to lesser mortals. So from experience, here’s ....

How to Succeed in Any Examination in 8 Easy Steps

1) Keep All Your Studying till the Nth Hour: Yup, this is sure to spice up your life and help you concentrate better. Have you noticed how lazy you feel when you have 5 days of study leave in front of you? So do go out and enjoy some ‘taazi Hawa‘!! Play solitaire, sleep a bit, take longer baths, phone someone up and ask how much they have finished studying (Don’t blame me if after you do, you get extremely scared), since they might tell you the TRUTH. (of course, I am kidding) Mostly, though.. The conversation runs on these lines
You: “Hey there pal, how much did you finish in Physics?” (Or whatever you are having in 2 days time)
Friend: “Oh! I am a lazy person; I haven’t even started Magnetism. Then, I have to do Electrostatics, Quantum Physics, Statistical Mechanics, Lasers, and Optics...”
You: “Oh wow...Nor have I! But isn’t that like the entire portion?”
Friend: “Yeah, I just don’t feel like studying. I went to see a film and I was thinking about it for 2 days. Oh got to go, they are showing Friends reruns on Star.”
(Phone gets disconnected abruptly; you are left holding the receiver wondering whether it was something you ate)
Of course, at the end of the conversation, neither of you believes the other, even if you WERE speaking the truth. But then, if YOU were, all I can say is: You have GUTS! Way to go dude... ! And, of course, the chances that BOTH of you are telling the truth is 1 in quite a few billion.
2) God Help You: Speaking of God, I have seen even sworn atheists come into the Examination Hall, with sandalwood paste smeared all over the forehead or a sacred thread on their wrist. It sometimes makes one wonder if God invented examinations in order to get more devotees because every member of a Board Exam Class sends up a million prayers on the “occasion” of their life making (or marring) exams. You, in your quest for success, should go one better, go to all the religious places, read the scriptures for some more reassurance that you won’t fail, order that your parents do nothing during the three hours of your examination but pray, plead that all your relatives pray for you too. So that it’s more err... powerful would be the word I should use, right? Right!
3) Prepare a timetable: Ok, so one exam just finished in the afternoon. Just 8 more to go. Your mind should work like this:
Mind: “Ok, take a nice sleep now. You have 4 days for your next exam. Ample time to revise at least twice. After all there are only (!!)50 lessons to do. You did it for the series in one night flat.” (Deep blissful sleep)
Mind: (next day) “Now let’s see Kucch Kucch Hota Hai on Sony (Its like the 100th time, but what the heck!) After that, 1-3pm you study, 15 minutes break...”
Make ambitious plans and DON’T adhere to your timetable, because, as I pointed out before, you HAVE to obey Rule 1).
4) The Science of Sleeplessness: If you suffer from insomnia and/or a guilty conscience for goofing off for the past three days, here’s the time to make up for it. Quickly get some of your textbooks and place them on your table. Admire them, because most probably their pages might not have seen the light of day! Open the first lesson, take a new page in a notebook and write neatly: Revision. Start reading and note points. I guarantee that you will be asleep within the first 10 minutes. It’s a faster and better method than counting sheep, because you never know when a Googolplex comes into the picture!
5) Keep the Alarm within Arm’s Reach: When setting the alarm, keep it for some unearthly, godforsaken hour like 2:30 am. When it utters it’s extremely darned bleat, stare at it groggily for about two minutes (that is, if you DO get up at ALL!) and set it for 3:30. Continue this rigmarole till it is 9:30 am. Leap out of the bed at this hour and raise hell, demanding to know why your mother didn’t wake you when the alarm first rang and then eat your breakfast morosely, all the while ruing for lost hours, thereby wasting at least one more hour in moaning.
6) Final Trial: It’s the last day, and boy, now you HAVE to study. Otherwise, it would be foolhardy. Start reading in earnest. Have some black coffee to drink and water for your tired eyes. Sit up late burning serious midnight oil. Cram everything in your head till saturation point is reached. It is that point which occurs, when you look up to the roof, there dawns on you “Types of roofs...roofing...tiles...floors...types of floors....types of flooring materials...” and you count them out under your breath, not caring why your family has started thinking that you have now started responding to the stray voices in your head!
One word of caution, though.... never ever leave any portion out!! Experience always teaches you, that anything you leave out is sure to appear for your exam, though they might have NEVER asked any question from it in 25 long years. But since YOU decided not to study it, that was the 20-mark question, and then that would be an opportune time to swoon.
7) Impart Stress: The best way to achieve this is to run around asking everyone last minute questions. Go and stand near someone who has revised at least ten times and try to scare him or her too. (At least someone will be, apart from you!) It is a very easy process, if you know how. Just look very knowledgeable and nod to everything they say, even if it is the first time you have heard of it. Ask weird questions like: “What is transmorgification fixation? How is it different from intradulation traction?“
Go on writing reams in the answer sheet, even if you have no idea what it is all about. Stare continuously at anyone who finished half an hour before you did as if you have no idea how that ‘moron‘ completed everything so early. Finish writing only when the bell rings. And then engage in a tug of war with the invigilator, each of you not ready to concede your positions! Come out smiling, no matter how hard the exam was! Gosh, if that doesn’t scare people, Nothing will!
8) Blame it on the University: The ultimate scapegoat. The readymade answer to all your problems is that if you don’t score above 90 in all your subjects (and I see no reason why that should happen!), “They didn‘t understand my in-depth answers.” After all THEY can’t sue.. Or can they? In which case, I should really go hide!
Right, you have now become an examination guru, in 8 easy steps, congrats! Here’s your diploma! Happy Hunting! Ciao......

(Advice/ Precaution: Doing what this “help” column advises may result in disastrous consequences. Kindly refrain. Please note that “This is the product of a mind extremely warped after undergoing the continuous torture of enough exams to make any sane person‘s head swim.” The author disclaims any responsibility of actions consequent of anyone following any of the sure-fire routes to success, including and up to aching ears from parents’ scolding, aching hands from writing a film song in the answer sheet, insomnia or caffeine addiction, among other things. )

Woman of Goodness

2005-04-01T20:28:00.000-08:00

Yay! Gmail's giving me infinity+1 of storage (and counting)..
That took me back to the childish arguments we used to have.
"You're an idiot."
"You are twice an idiot"
"Idiot raised to infinity"
"Raised to infinity plus one"
And so on....
It makes you think if, indeed, mathematical concepts hold any validity in student life, other than to insult your friend's intelligence.
Today's topic of discussion *claps hand for silence*, those lovely pint sized humans called CHILDREN. More specifically, one child!
I enjoy playing with babies of all sizes and descriptions. Heck, most of my friends behave like babies once in a while.
Then, before I was ready for the huge and awesome challenge, I became an aunt!
Alert: Walk down Memory Lane
It was 3 am on 3rd March,2001, when I was unceremoniously hauled off the one seater couch I was adorning in SUT and dragged to see the little bundle of joy in our lives. The nurse trotted out of the OT with a blanket-wrapped, pink and wrinkled little person, who was beating her fists and legs against the white prison she found herself in. Mom kept exclaiming "She's got such a naughty look. She looks like you did at her age." (i.e 1 hour...)
I looked down at my new-born niece.
First thought: "How tiny and pink and wrinkly."
Second thought: "Naughty look? This angel? I mean LOOK at her, eyes closed and all"
Third and evil thought: "Hey kiddo! I'll teach you all I know. I'll be the cool aunt Shruti!"
Meanwhile, I fell asleep on my mom's shoulder while she was waxing eloquent.
/end Walk down Memory Lane
She grew up. We brought her home and this proud aunt learnt a good lesson, namely
"A baby with a good pair of lungs is your best friend during exam week...."
My 11th standard annual exams were going on, and this little bundle of joy (B-O-J) was my standard alarm.
"Okay, I've done Organic, I'll sleep from 11 pm to the next time she wakes up and cries."
Which mean, basically, every 2 hours, come day or night.... I said a fond farewell to sleep and othe recreational activities and concentrated on keeping whatever last vestiges of sanity I had intact.
The pile of diapers and baby-smelling clothes and other accessories grew. But, it wasn't all cleaning up and late night yells. Oh no sirree! For some change, we also had fun. Tickling, peekaboos, bathing time, squirting powder and subliminal advertising... (uhm, don't ask, don't tell!)
When she was 2 years old, she picked up a nice little Mallu swear word which approximately means 'beggar' and she used it on all and sundry. People usually had their mouths open, by the time she went through her routine.
Now, my little BoJ is 4 years old and a complete scamp with a big mouth to boot. She is christened (after 4 months of agonising where we called her "The Kid" or "Baby") Tevya, which is Hebrew for 'Woman of Goodness'. Kind of ironic, seeing whom she has as a mentor in the goodness department!
A recent conversation with mom went like this.
Mom: "Hello, Tia kutta. Can you give it to mamma-dadda?"
The Kid: "Mamma-dadda *incomprehensible speech*"
Mom: (shocked) "She told me they're not keen to talk to me!"
Aunt Shruti goes into paroxyms of laughter. Now THAT's attitude from a toddler!
Madame Tevya is currently busy in her (as she puts it) activities and her ballet classes, and will be restarting school on April 6th in L.K.G...
As she says "A is for Astronaut..."
On that note, I think I better go and brush up on my language skills. If I need to talk to her, that is!

What Happened EasterDay

2005-03-29T17:20:00.000-08:00

This Easter, mom and I decided to do something about us never attending Easter Mass. Now, there's a reason.. it starts at 2 am and stretches till 7:30.. Like our priest complains, EVERYONE turns up for Good Friday and only half turn up for Easter. For them, the Lord is never Risen.
So, we left for Kozencherry to my great aunt's place on Saturday. That evening, I sent everyone "Harpy Yeaster" messages and I got some back asking if I was drunk... Let the truth be out.. NO, but I WAS dead bored!
On Easter Day, we dragged ourselves to the church and I slept through the sermon, ("I am sorry, but there it is...Like it or lump it. Shrutz is like this!") After certain incidents I better not mention, we had the sumptuous Easter spread my Mom was too lazy to make. heh!
After eating all the ice-cream and cake my tummy could stand, putting my feet up on the sofa and watching TV, we left for Thiruvalla and my great-uncle's place. There, I met my 12 year old and 8 year old cousins...
First thing they say on seeing me, "Oh you're so tiny.."
Okay... maybe it wasn't off to an auspicious start. Things were only going to go down. They dragged me into the dining room and then started comparing heights... "Oh I am almost as tall as you are...", "Oh I am upto your eyes"...
Little Shruti wanted to disappear. Then, Sam (younger cousin) wanted to know how old I was.
"20"
"That's 12 years elder than me.. Oh, are you married yet?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
I decided offence was the best sort of defence, "Are you?"
"Don't be foolish, he's only 8." Said his sister, Monica.
I was properly abashed. "Okay, so do you have a girlfriend?"
"Oooh, ooh Akanshaaaa, Sam...!" Monica was getting excited.
Sam came back strongly with "Piyush is your boyfriend. Nyaa nyaa."
"Yuck. Piyush. he's so ugly."
"You're always talking to him. Monica and Piyush..."
"Sam and Akansha..."
And there I was, in the middle of the coffee-toffee argument, like the cat that swallowed the canary that had eaten the cream .....(I LOVE mixed metaphors)
Then, they ganged up on unsuspecting me, "What about you, chechi?"
"Me, poor tiny me? Guys are too scared... " I gave a sheepish grin.
Quick subject change. "Let's play Monopoly, chechi... You're good.."
"Monopoly? It takes like 3 hours..."
Anyway, the kids won out... and I won the game
Middle of conversation!
"Whoa, how many railroads do you have?"
"Fork over 100 $, please.."
"How clever you are."
"Thank you. I try."
"Why did you buy the utility? It's useless..."
"90 dollars..."
"3 hotels on Oriental etc."
That was when I realised I out to have let THEM win it... Ahh well, next time.
This is Tiny saying
So long suckers...

Roger!

2005-03-25T20:02:00.000-08:00

After a spate of seriousness (and the simple device of pulling out blogs from my computer), I've finally decided to come back... and with a bang.

First of all, I'd like to thank all of you who have voted me into oblivion, (in case you haven't voted, WHAT are you waiting for? The End of Days?) I never realised I was paying so many people... I must be rich. Oh well. I will remember that when my Income Tax statement comes the next time. Ahh. Who am I kidding. Love all you kooky people!

1028 blog views!!!! I feel GREAT!...

Then, today's the one week anniversary of my new computer. It's a great machine. (Any dissenters may contact Idon'tgiveadamnifAMDrocksandthisisaP4@gmail.com ) My modem has been changed, and finally things are stable, relatively. So, right now, I am on a completely different computer AND modem to what I was using for the last blog I wrote. Well, except for my ethernet card, but that doesn't count, does it?

So, this is Shruti signing off

Patriotism

2005-03-23T07:19:00.000-08:00

“Breathes there the man, with soul so dead
Who never to himself, hath said
This is my own, My native Land
......Living shall forfeit fair renown
And, doubly, dying shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung
Unwept, unhonoured and unsung.”
(Patriotism, by Sir Walter Scott)

Patriotism is one of the virtues extolled by politicians all over the world. Apparently, a Patriot (apart from being a missile), in these days of increasingly blinkered nationalism, is a person who believes “My country, always right, never wrong”. There is also an immense attack of what I’d like to call the Frog-in-the-well syndrome.
This is one of Swami Vivekananda’s stories. A frog used to live in a well, which was all that he’d ever seen. It was a good life. He satisfied both his wants of food and shelter. One day, his cousin from a river up north decided to visit the frog. The cousin was describing his life in the big river. The frog couldn’t believe his ears, when he heard what he thought were very tall stories. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. he asked his cousin “This river of yours, how big is it?” so, his cousin replied “It is very large”. The frog took a small jump and asked “Is it as wide as this?”. The cousin replied “It is many more times wider than that.” The frog jumped as far as he could and asked the same question. the cousin persisted in telling him that the river was much wider. The frog gave the cousin a very big concession and decided to ask him if the river as big as his well. The cousin laughed and told him that the river was a million times larger than the tiny space he inhabited. The frog was insulted and said “Nothing is larger than my well. I don’t believe your pack of lies. I don’t think there is world outside that is half as big as where I live in..”
Now, this is a story that a politician would love. He (or she) would argue that the frog in the well was a true patriot. He loved his habitat and was prepared to defend its honour. Of course, the question of dying for his well does not arise, but that would be a mere technicality.
The ordinary person, of course, would detect a massive flaw in this reasoning. The fact that the frog hadn’t seen the rest of the world did not mean that there was nothing in the surroundings that was much bigger than his small well. The frog laboured under the delusion that the entire world revolved around him and his pathetic dwelling place. Unfortunately, in these times, that remains the problem with the vast majority of 6 billion humans walking this planet. The world may have become smaller, boundaries may have been erased in all but the minds of governments, but the mind of the “true patriot” remains closed to the notions of other cultures, other races, other mindsets, opinions and views.
At this juncture, we must pause to analyse and sift the rights from the wrongs. Have you been turning a blind eye when your nation did something detrimental to the cause of world peace? Do you support your “statesmen” in whatever policies they undertake, without reading the finer print or caring to know what other viewpoints are? Are the media that give you the information about the “world beyond the well” biased? Moreover, do you believe every word uttered in them? Do you have nothing but contempt for people who hold viewpoints opposed to your own or which challenge those of the government? If you have answered yes to three or more, you have been stricken by this malaise.
The question begging to be asked is “Is this true blue patriotism after all?”
Love, they say is blind. But, patriotism does not necessarily equate to closing your eyes and learning by rote the official answer to every criticism levelled against you as a nation. Nor does it entail waving the flag around during cricket matches, chanting “We will rock you” on the top of your voices. This does not mean that, as a nation, we must not present a united front and stand behind all the choices that the country makes, but the crux of the whole matter is, how detrimental will it be to the interests of the world? Are these decisions based on objective reasoning, rather than momentary lapses in judgement caused by excessive sentimentality?
The 21st century demands, not archaic devotion to old concepts, but a hope for the new future. It declines to suffer fools refusing to shake off the musty cobwebs of “a glorious past” and making grandiose & shameless plans to bring the country back full circle to the Dark Ages. “No man is an island to himself” and no country can afford to stand alone surrounded by the ocean of adverse world opinion.
A true patriot, then, should be farseeing, without the most common of virtues, viz hindsight. He should be objective and reasonable, willing to lend an ear and open his heart to the opinions of other nationalities, however uncomplimentary and contrary they might be to the beliefs he has held for so long. His eyes should be open to events happening outside his “well”, and his opinions should not be made on a whim, but be back by concrete evidence. Once formed, they should not be swayed by gentle winds of opinion but hold its own against storms of criticisms, unless, of course, those storms do contain a nugget of truth. Above all, he should not be afraid to speak his mind, regardless of consequences.
A true patriot is a citizen of the planet he inhabits, first and foremost. Fly your flag if you must, but wear the badge of your humanity with pride. Nature treats every country with the same respect. It is time that every patriot did the same. The hope of this world is, as Tagore immortalised in Geetanjali:
“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit”

Neil Armstrong And the Malayali on the moon

2005-03-20T08:06:00.000-08:00

Another of the series of old stuff I found on my computer. This was a joke I heard from my cousin and rewrote. Tried sending it to people.... noone read it :)

You might have heard about the man on the moon.. He is supposed to be a myth.. You might believe in him or not.. But that’s beside the point.
You might have all heard about the historic flight to the moon on the Apollo spacecraft when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin "apparently" landed on the moon...
But this is a conspiracy theory to end ALL conspiracy theories.. The United States Of America has been fooling all of us Mallus till now, as part of a grand design to suppress true history... The first people on the moon weren't "Armstrong and Buzz" it was a Malayali.
YES!! a Mallu is the 'Man on the Moon.' Forget what the history books told you... Here’s the TRUE story............
Apollo 11 landed on the moon and Neil, the villain of the story, with the flag in his hand, stepped onto the soil with the words "A small step for a man".... on his lips, (he had been rehearsing for the big 'night' for a long time aboard the Apollo) when suddenly he heard in the clear stillness of the night two words "CHAYEE, KAAPI”
He was stunned and ran.. err floated (after all there's not much gravity nah?) to where the sound came from... He saw through his fishbowl (ok.. ok the astronaut helmet) a teashop or. in Mallu dialect, a 'chaikada' He was stunned (that’s an understatement to say the very least) He went and sat on the bench and looked despondently at the Mallu and asked " Who/ what are you? Are you from earth? Did Russia send you? How did you reach here?......"
His questions would have gone on but the Mallu was smart he stopped him "Saar plizz don't confuze me onlye! I am a mallaayalli from India saar. Gelf not very good. I am a chaikada owner, a bissiness man. I zimbly come to moon for getting meney. Aliens liking Malayali food you know saar"
But Neil boy was not to be put off like that. He burst into tears (and found out that his oxygen supply was running out by the way) and said "But everyone down there thinks that I am the first man on the moon. The USA depends on me. We have to show the USSR a thing or two, don't we?"
The Malayali was astonishingly well read. He did read the Malayalam Manorama, you know. "Saar we support USSR onlye but if you buy all these things saar you can tell whatever you want to those people down there. Saar my femely is wanting to be having lot meney, you know"
So Neil, after promising to visit out Mallu again, our antihero bought all the 'pazhamporis', 'bondas', 'chais' , 'kaapis' to eat abroad the Apollo with Buzz.. and said his famous line too.. you know what it is.
That was in 1969. Neil went back to good ol earth and was accorded a hero's welcome! He had become the 'Man On the Moon'. Children dreamt about becoming like Neil Armstrong. History books showed him and the flag of US fluttering next to the spacecraft (NOW that's another conspiracy.. we will talk about THAT later).The only people who knew about the "Malayali on the Moon" were Neil & Buzz (who had tummy aches after consuming all those paramporis and bondas) and the mission control at NASA.
After some years had passed by.. Neil decided to go back to the moon (in a secret mission that no other country knew about, of course). He landed on the moon after an uneventful trip and ran back to the old site of the chaikada but didn't find his Mallu friend there. Instead he found :- "BAHADUR SINGH'S DHAABA" written in big letters over a dhaaba. He was as surprised as a goldfish in a bowl (pun totally unintended!). And asked the sardarji who was the proprietor of the shop "Where's what-his-name? The Indian? And his tea shop?"
The Sardarji said unconcernedly "Oye!! Rajendra Krishnan Menon eh? He's not here anymore. Tusi ki chahiye?"
Neil was rapidly losing his temper "I am Neil Armstrong.. He's my friend. Where is he?"
Said the Punju "Oye tusi ho Neil eh? He told me to "re lay" a message to you when you came. He has “re located” to Pluto. There are better business opportunities there.. apparently"
Thus was born the "Man on Pluto" legend. You will be hearing it soon enough. So Mallus, when NASA sends a spacecraft to Pluto (NOT the Viking) and claims to have been the first.. we Mallus at least should know better eh?
***************FLASH: The author of this here story is being sued by NASA, Neil Armstrong's family, the Pentagon, President George W Bush, Bahadur Singh (who claims that he said nothing of that sort), the USA ( which claims that this is a Russian plot to undermine Indo-US relations), our Defence Minister George Fernandes, (who claims that there is a "Foreign Hand" behind all this.. he thinks it is Italian actually) the Pakistani “President” General Pervez Musharraf (who further claims that this is an Indian plot, actually the Man on the Moon was a Paki) .. and various other Americans who are claiming $198,246,950,948,927,659.19707 ( wonder how many light years that is) in damages because they feel that they suffered emotionally due to the "falsehoods concocted here" The trial is set before the UN Court of Justice and might run to a few thousand years more*****************

Soporific Lectures

2005-03-17T18:52:00.000-08:00

This was a poem written for our Genesis (02) versification, when I was a fresher. Again, just found it today...

Hey! So, you are the latest addition to C.E.T,
The college which people talk of admiringly.
“All’s well with the world,” is your initial thought,
“This is what my next four years are about.“
Finally, you enter your class for your first lectures,
A beginner’s guide to the types of structures.

The first fifteen minutes are time well spent,
In getting to know what had last happened.
The next fifteen find your ‘alert’ mind chafing,
Or else, at the teacher your eyes are gaping.
Of the last thirty, it’s better not a word be uttered,
Suffice that every second the clock is stared at.

Alas! This is but the tip of the colossal iceberg,
Hour after hour, it grows worse, like the plague.
First comes the unrelenting tide of Chemistry,
Then your mind grapples with the eternal mystery,
Of how did the power disappear, when it travelled
Through the resistor. (Would it ever be unravelled?)

Twelve strikes. Oh! The Blessed relief of Lunch!
You gobble your food, and relax in your bench.
But, the one-hour seems to take on spectral wings,
Determined to prove impatient even the Sphinx.
One o’clock comes, so does Lecture Number 4
This, you agree, is turning out to be a BORE!

Your stomach is full, your brain quite the contrary
Slowly but steadily, your eyes start to get sleepy.
Your five senses don’t seem to co-operate anymore,
Physics holds less charm than what’s outside the door.
Vaguely, you can see the professor’s mouth moving,
But, unfortunately, can’t stop your mind from roving.

Number 5 sails in, right on time, through the doors
When you were thinking it couldn’t get any worse,
You find out you were abjectly wrong, it just did!
Thermodynamics finally frustrates your valiant bid,
Of stopping the escaping yawns born of boredom.
Because, you yearn to enter Sleep’s soft Kingdom!

One more to go, your fatigued mind reminds you
When Number 6 gives you long assignments to do.
“Due ”, he says “Tomorrow at the very latest!”
All dreams about “early-to-bed” turn to dust.
Breezing through school, I never did know,
The sleepiness that afflicts college life so!

*******************************************
NB: The situation persists... slightly worse, though

The Confessions of a Cautious Mind

2005-03-17T18:41:00.000-08:00

Due to my increasingly worsening ADL, I've been unable to post for sometime. The situation has not changed even after they came and fiddled with the computer.... Anyways, here's something I found on my computer. Old story.... New funda!

If I had to chronicle my life from birth to the time I am sitting here talking about what is happening to me, it’d be a yawn fest comprising of nothing but “I got up, did my daily chores, went back to sleep.” Not exactly the stuff of legend, you must agree. My yearning for an adventurous life was only matched by my propensity to obey every single sign for whatever it said. It could be “Do not Walk on Grass” and “Women, do not wear trousers in place of worship” to “Danger 550V”.People tell me that this nature of mine is keeping me from opening up whole new vistas.
Anyway, the last time I heard from a family friend, he had been in the midst of Kashmir and in his own words “I shot two terrorists and got a medal, Ma’am”. Now, why couldn’t I shoot two terrorists and get a medal? Common sense must provide a satisfactory answer, but my dreams were filled with a brave heroine (me, of course) rescuing people from landslides and floods and shooting Bond-worthy villains left, right and centre. The dreams provided a wake up call, weirdly enough. “Get up and go looking for trouble” would be how I would paraphrase what it said, looking back in the cold light of the day, but at the moment, it heralded a whole new way of life for me. I was going to be a REBEL, laughing in the face of authority with all the suavity of a female Don Quixote.
So, I set off into my brave new life, kicking down some pretentious signs on the way, literally walking the fine line. By which, of course, I mean the path I trode over the edge of the not-so-beautifully mowed lawn in the public park. I paused by the side of a dustbin that said “Use me” and nonchalantly dropped a used plastic cup right by its side, along with the tonnes of other cups, plates and multihued plastic bags containing godforsaken garbage. Imagine my consternation, then, when I realised people had already beaten me to throwing their waste just inches outside the dustbins. On that spot, I made a solemn oath that I would find one innovative way to bend the rules that no one had ever before devised.
Thus began my incessant quest. On my yearly walk around our quiet colony, I chanced upon a pristine wall that proclaimed “Stick no bills”. I looked furtively all around, pulled out my purse, took an expired laundry receipt (a BILL, duh!) and stuck it with chewing gum. Feeling like a happy camper, I walked on, thinking “That was simple!”. Unfortunately, I had picked election season. The next time I passed the wall, my bill was nowhere to be seen amidst the garish four toned posters asking people to vote for the least harmful candidate. There was a lot of gnashing of teeth and I steeled myself for a very long ordeal.
Other opportunities of lawlessness presented themselves at the wheel of my car. Waiting at a red light along the main thoroughfare in the city, I was struck anew by the sign (no, not literally) that said “No Horn, No Bright Beam in City Limits”. It being day, I could not disobey the second of the diktats. But, I leaned long and hard on the horn, turning it into a piece fit for Bach, right into the ears of an unsuspecting motorist. As luck would have it, I hadn’t counted on the light changing and an immediate cacophony of sounds arose like the screams of tortured souls in Hell and I momentarily became dazed. Whereupon, glares came my way and realisation dawned that my getaway had to be quick, so down came my foot on the accelerator and I was out in a jiffy (which for your information, is one tenth of a second). Cruising through the roads, my eyes lit up at the speed limit signs, since they seemed awfully low for what I was doing. Looking around, I dismissed the claims of that piece of rebellion as most vehicles were speeding past me like I was stationary. Seeing a “No Parking” sign on the side of the road, I made an illegal U-turn and parked right under it. Looking around, there was no other motorist who had shared in my little bit of mutiny. Heaving a large sigh of relief, I trotted off to the shops nearby. I came back and saw a nice pink ticket waiting for me. It informed me that I was poorer by a thousand quid.
The sad saga continued. Driving privileges were stripped and I was reduced to laying rubber down on footpaths instead. I was also assured by reliable sources, amidst gales of laughter, that they had also resorted to parking in forbidden places when none other were available, and never with such disastrous repercussions.
Browsing through a store, I saw a “If you break me, you pay for me” warning. Even though sorely tempted to attempt the feat, my empty pockets cried out in protest. Squaring my shoulders, I strode off in the direction opposite the tempting notices, ignoring the “Do Not Touch” labels adorning yet other shelves en route.
I had never before realised how many “Trespassers will be prosecuted” (“to the full extent of the law” Optional) festooned the forbidding walls of many public buildings in the city, until I had set out on my search. Now, what the law said about the punishment meted out to people who traipsed through the hallowed (err) premises of, say, The Indian Institute of Higher Secondary Learning for the Cranially Challenged, when clearly they should have sat at home and twiddled their thumbs, I did not know. Well, I was going to find out. Wasting no opportunity to ignore the dire warning, I walked in through a hole in the fence and found myself in a mini-jungle of the kind made famous by Tarzan. I hadn’t taken two steps, before I found out what exactly happened in the aforementioned forest. Delicacy prevents me from elaborating. Needless to say, I made a quick exit, perhaps scarred for life.
I sat in bed glowering over my strange misfortune, when lo and behold! I saw that our neighbours had procured a ferocious Alsatian and posted outside their imposing gates “Beware of Dog”. To my pleasant surprise, people seemed scared of the mutt’s scary visage and actually steered clear of it. Immediately, I had to be contrary. So, one day, I sidled over to their house and started making faces at the canine from the relative safety of being on the right side of the gates, namely out. The dog trotted over to the other side and went through the routine of barking, growling and baring its over large teeth. (Wonder if that’s were they get the word canine from). After it was satisfied that it had fulfilled its duty with respect to the rigmarole it was expected to enact for my benefit, it wagged its tail and woofed with real pleasure. I guess it had seen a kindred spirit. Sighing with dismay, I opened the gate and patted its shaggy head, fending off some licks.
Long story short, I take Prince out on walks now and the only thing you have to beware of as far as he is concerned is getting too close to his tongue. He can give sandpaper a complex. As for me, I have finally taken the hint Fate gave me and definitely decided that the adventurous life is not for me. The windmills are safe from further invasions.