Questions?

I am writing this post to discuss the inherent fear of raising a question in public, which undoubtedly resides within many of us. Most of us fear becoming the butt of everyone’s jokes for asking a seemingly dumb question, although we secretly admire someone brave enough to ask the same question. Having experienced the pangs of many an unasked question personally, I can easily relate to this thought. Where does this apprehension arise from? I feel one overarching source is the fear of being judged by others. Questions tend to acquire tags, which lead to you questioning yourself and that eventually results in hesitation. I am, often, amused by the tags people assign: a ‘simple’ question gets the ‘dumb’ tag, a well-framed question might be called ‘smart’, etc. Such tags invariably get transferred from the question to the questioner, and may have high levels of persistence.

As a high schooler, I remember feeling happy asking questions in class. Some were due to my imagination, a few would come to my mind because I would day dream in lectures and lose track of what was being taught, yet others came up when I wanted to break the monotony of the class; and I would always have one question to eat up the last five minutes of class hours! Asking questions is always easier when people around you are interested more in the discussion than in taking potshots at each other. It also has a lot to do with how the respondent answers a question. I have felt less inclined to question teachers who have rubbished my questions nonchalantly. Instead, those who would help me frame a question properly and then go on to answer it were the ones who got more queries from me later. Brushing aside a question without paying attention is probably the worst thing a teacher could do. It breaks the confidence in the teacher, sending out a message that the teacher is superior and hence should not be bugged with trivia. Giving a patient hearing to a question breaks the ice between the questioner and the respondent, paving the way for detailed discussion.

Some of my most memorable classes were in Biochemistry during my Masters where my teacher would set aside time in each lecture for questions alone. The thought of being able to ask any question, even one without any relevance to the day’s discussion, was liberating. He would then ponder over it for a minute, and give a lot more than just a straightforward answer. A good answer should open one or more windows, he would say, that allow the questioner to look beyond the confines of a specific answer and provide ample opportunities to scratch parallel lines of thought.

Shashi Tharoor, former Under-Secretary General of the UN and member of the Indian Parliament, said about his undergrad life, “In College, in addition to answering questions, we learnt to question the answers. Some of us would go a step further and question the questions!” Questioning observed and abstract concepts lies at the root of science and life. Ignoring or discouraging this basic act is akin to anathema.

Indie bhaashi

Living away from where I had lived for a couple of decades has helped me realize the pros of knowing more than one language. Part of the reason why I have felt less alien than expected is that the locals here speak the same language that I have been taught for more than a decade. Migrating to a country that speaks a different language can be hard for some and enjoyable for others. An interesting incident that comes to my mind is that of an Indian friend in Germany being forced to shadow an 'Indian-looking' family so that he could get to the nearest Indian store. 'I will make do without learning German till as long as I possibly can!', he remarked. Six months later, he has found his way to a German class. Seems like all Indian-looking families in this guy's town have sorted him out!

In India, there is a new language every few hundreds of square kilometres or less and each language has its fair share of dialects. Indian cities bear witness to a massive confluence of languages, and this brings along a vibrant mix of cultures, festivals and tradition. Be it jumpy Punjabi or melodious Malayalam, every language has an earthy ring to it. Probably the best way to learn a language is to spend some time in the host state, or mix with people from that state in your city. I can say this from first hand experience of experiencing the city of joy and its language sitting miles away in New Delhi. Knowing a little bit of a language can also help a great deal when you visit the host state. Try cracking an expression in the local language - its the best way to endear yourself to the locals.

The cities of India make for an interesting experience, often forgotten in the mad race of living to earn a living and nothing else.

The week that was

No. Don't expect any drama here. No life-changing incidents, no close escapes, no spine chilling ghost stories, nothing. I was sitting idle for a bit and thought of sharing my boredom with you. What better way than writing about something totally ordinary, such as the week that just went by.

Monday to Friday, nine to five, is convenient and sweet. I come to my desk, usually a minute late, to friendly taunts by lab mates about that extra minute. I pretend to do some work. Coffee break, Lunch break, another coffee break... Then I finally get down to work,. Making columns, coming close to breaking them, loading samples, etc and by the time I am done, its five and I am off. Oh yeah, how could I miss soccer. That's what keeps me going through the chores these days. And what a World cup this is turning out to be. Spain, France and Germany beaten by less-fancied teams. Italy held by the dodos.. er, the Kiwis, rather. I would love to see Brazil beaten by Ivory Coast, that's starting in an hour. The jabulanis and vuvuzelas seem more exciting than England's soccer skills. No, wait! Their goalies pump it up for the spectators. Word is out that the most defensive of teams get excited on seeing an Englishman in front of the goal. 'Shoot, and they shall help you score', they say.

That aside, Madison is pretty as a picture these days. It rains intermittently, but the sun comes out shining every day. People complain that its too warm. I tell them to take a trip to New Delhi to understand what hot summers mean.

Socca

The big guns fall, fans are appalled
darkness seems all around
But fear not, for a single shot
on target will do you proud.

Public memory is but that of a child
with so much doing the rounds
Yesterday doesn't exist, today's fleeting
Tomorrow is all that counts.

An oily soup

I took a Genomics class in spring that consisted of lectures by an enthusiastic professor and a presentation by each of the 20 odd students who took the course. One of the presentations was based on Asian carp infestation of freshwater lakes across the United States. After the presenter finished speaking, we brainstormed on ways to tackle this issue. This particular problem began when catfish farmers in the U.S.A. imported Asian carp decades ago to eat up algae in their ponds. Little did they know of the fish’s alarming capacity to breed and infest new water bodies. Today, this nuisance has assumed such alarming proportions that the White House needs to sit and debate on possible solutions. A mild-mannered classmate commented that such problems arise only when we try to meddle with nature’s ways of working, to which a few people replied that human interference wasn’t a bad thing in itself. It had to be monitored rationally and any challenges should be dealt scientifically.

As I checked out nationalgeographic.com this evening, I could not help but reflect on that discussion. If the previous issue was about encroachment, this one is just the opposite. The pictures screamed of an ecosystem being uprooted. Pelicans with oil dripping off their wings, hermit crabs struggling their way through the slick, dead fish floating amidst swathes of oil, a laughing gull not laughing any more surely – these are only a handful of millions of species being put to sleep as we breathe. Repositories of endangered and extinct species will have to be rewritten all over. The birds also ingest some of the oil in attempting to get it off their feathers and wings, which could prove fatal. Rehab personnel would rather have them die than suffer a painful recuperation. So much so for our quest to drill out every bit of earth’s resources before anyone else can get their hands on them.

I am eager to see how human intervention can provide a satisfactory solution to this challenge. Forget removing the oil, the hole that is spitting out oil has still not been closed. For all our technical acumen, scientific capabilities, Nobel prizes, etc we have spent 50 days with no clue as to how we shall separate oil from water.

Home away from home

It struck me as I was sipping tea yesterday evening. And to think of it, I had remained oblivious of it until recently, maybe taking it for granted. For a shade less than a year, I have been working in the US and living in little India! That’s what my apartment building is – little India. Yeah, it is true that almost half of the apartments in my building have desi tenants but there is more to it. Living in Oak tree means that, apart from being able to walk into friends’ homes (something that a lot of my Oxbridge migrating brethren miss after College) and meeting over impromptu potlucks, I end up eating and cooking with four roomies, cleaning up the living room on weekends, playing pranks and getting to know a whole lot of people who are walking similar paths. I can also walk to work, another aspect of small-town-India that I have adored (quite interestingly, I could not do that for the majority of my schooling in India, having grown up in a burgeoning metropolis teeming with honking buses and busy roads). By no means could my accommodation be termed luxurious. In fact, modest is the word according to me, and I will not be surprised if a lot of people here find it too small for their ‘stuff’. With little ‘stuff’ to stash away, this apartment has worked quite well. I guess this happy marriage between work and home has been a success so far, and is the sole reason for me not being terribly homesick.

I suspect this thought dawned upon me after I had to spend a week away from home for a conference. For more than two decades, I had known my home as where my family is. Not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that changing. But the feeling of homecoming I got as we drove home from the Dane County Airport was proof enough that I had already accepted this to be home.

April maadhathil...

Zakir Hussain and his 'Masters of Percussion' tour's final performance for the year in Cornell gave me a convenient excuse to plan a long weekend in New York a month ago.

Stopping over at Chicago for an evening is surely becoming the norm for my outings. Nishanth had to cut his sleep to only three hours the following morning so that we could say hi and bye before I took the Amtrak train to O'Hare. The take off gave me a beautiful view of downtown and how it towered over the rest of the city. Downtown Chicago is scary indeed, the avenues teem with cabs, cars and pedestrians and a chopper's view would look like ants crawling through a maze.

I walked out of New York's La Guardia airport in good time and with Anupam's perfect directions, I found myself in uptown NY in no time. The city reminds me strongly of New Delhi, with cars parked by the lanes, road-side restaurants, hawkers on footpaths, not-so-clean streets, and a multi cultural population. I almost looked around for a chai-stall next to one of the fag booths, but that was not to be! AKC, as Anupam is better known, stays and works in NY city's scientific hub. Sloan Kettering, Rockefeller and Wiel Cornell produce some much-talked-about research. in life sciences. Walking around the streets, don't be surprised to see people munching sandwiches in their lab coats on, doctors and medical interns sipping coffee with their blue gowns on.
After a quick bite of sandwiches with Anupam and Pallavi, we left for Brooklyn bridge and a sneak peak at downtown Manhattan. We got back in time for Anupam to get done with his work. A cuppa coffee at his favourite neighbourhood place later, we got our rental car and drove out of the city. The drive was one of the best I have ever had. The famous American freeways do make travelling across states a pleasure. After a couple of pit stops and some tense moments (with AKC being hilariously tense and generous in 4-letter words on occasions!) we got to the Ithacan Hogwarts in good time.

The next morning was bright and sunny and with Rachna and Pallavi, I had a traditional American breakfast of sandwiches, eggs and coffee. Cornell is blessed with beautiful scenery, immaculately manicured lawns, towering Roman architecture, breathtaking gorges, ravines and waterfalls - all at a stone's throw from students' residences. The Buttermilk falls provide a perfect picnic spot for kids and adults alike. The numerous trails wrap the falls lazily and one gets ample walking time and space.

A short visit to Ithaca Falls and a quick bite of papdi chat later, we drove to the concert venue, which was teeming with music lovers well before start.

The show began with Taufiq Qureshi demonstrating the most natural of rhythms - the breath. Ust. Sabir Khan, son of the legendary Ust. Sultan Khan, wove his magic on the sarangi before the maestro appeared and began captivating the audience with his beats. The violinist brothers Ganesh and Kumaresh provided an ideal balance to the percussion, which was further supplemented by imacculate performances on the pakhavaj, dholak and traditional drums from rural Bengal.

Classical ragas fused with Beethoven, birthday wishes were passed on to musical greats like Ust. Allah Rakha, the drums simulated a quarrel between a husband and a wife and the show ended to thunderous applause. After a lazy dinner of rotis and aaloo dum, I was surprised with a cake (two actually, one splattered all over my face) and gifts for my birthday that was just three days away. The night wasn't over and we drove out well past midnight to visit another waterfall and lake Cayuga.

The drive back to NY city was pleasant and musical, with Silk route capturing our minds. We got into the city after quite a wait and I experienced the my first traffic jam in this country! Sipping coffee with AKC right next to the runway in La Guardia, I remember feeling satisfied with everything over the last three days. Meeting up with friends is one of the best things that could happen, more so over long drives and awesome music. NY to O'Hare to Madison was routine and I walked in to a sleepy home in the wee hours of Monday, happy and ready to get back to work.

Much has happened at work and home since, and I hope to go over that in my next post.

Ghoos gaatha - a shameful trilogy

My first encounter with 'ghoos' (hindi for bribe) happened way back in 2002 when my elder brother applied for a passport so that he could pursue higher studies abroad. The two cops who came on behalf of civil vigilance authorities spent an hour talking about random things with my simpleton parents before laying out the inevitable. My parents always expected it to come up, but the figure of eight thousand rupees that was demanded was shocking for those days, indeed, as for today. The apparent reason for the 'hike' in the 'charges for their services' being that my brother had claimed that he was a resident of Uttar Pradesh, where our house was, while he stayed in his institute's hostel in New Delhi (a mere hour's drive from home). My parents, both innocent souls who have worked through their lives with nothing but sincerity and truthfulness, had no clue about how to respond.

To cut a long story short, a street smart detective uncle intervened and we had the same cop calling us and chiding us for taking things 'too seriously'.

Five years hence, yours truly decided it was good time to get his passport. It was different this time, in that I was determined not to give a single paisa to the saamp or bichchu (snake or scorpion - local slang for the cheap, corrupt cop on the streets) or whoever comes to verify my identity. Luckily, my father was away when the cop graced my home. He must have deemed it unfit to ask money from my mother and wanted my dad to call him up. He also made some petty excuse about my application missing a photograph, which was a blatant lie. Anyway, the apparently missing photo was duly handed over to him as I trekked to the nearby police thana (station). His searching eyes found nothing green in my hands, so he remarked 'Aur kuchch nahin hai kya? (Don't you have anything more than this?'. I shook my head firmly, with a slight smile inside as I walked back. For some reason, I was more happy about not shelling out a single extra rupee rather than anxious about whether I would get my passport or not. Two months later, the Right to Information Act kicked in and my passport came home, without a single paisa of ghoos. What was most hilarious was the postman asking for money, because someone in the family would go abroad and bring back millions of rupees!

Completing the trilogy of the ghoos gaatha (tales of bribes), my parents had to go through the same ordeal a couple of weeks ago. They staunchly refused to pay any so-called 'service charges'. A couple of months will reveal whether they get their passports or not. What was most heart wrenching was to hear how a cop remarked, while accepting bribe from another passport applicant, 'Ab toh Gandhiji aa gaye hai naa, sab kaam ho jaayega. (Now that Gandhiji has arrived, all work will be done)'.

Public apathy has proven to be a blood sucker for our country. Amongst all talk of India shining into the twenty first century as the next global power, let the current generation of India's human resources work to drive the ghoos menace out of our lives.

On choices and delusions

Paper or plastic?
for here or to go?
skimmed or two percent?
Italian bread or wheat?
mozarella or provolone?
bad or worse?

Choosing from within a single category makes us blind and delusive. One gets a false sense of power, freedom and even feels special. The walls are invisible and the doors are few and out of reach. Select from a hundred flavours of ice cream, tens of crackers, cookies, chips and what-nots. Spend all your time in the supermarket, bookstore, restaurants or best - at home in front of the t.v. watching different groups of people try to push a ball into a hoop or whack it out of a park every other weekend.

It works for a host of people because then we forget to spend time looking at the choices that matter: who controls what we see, hear, get, etc. Who owns the banks, who decides the law makers, the world leaders, forms of governance, tax policies. As these issues get sidelined, the true quality of life declines. But it is a slow death, making it easy to overlook. The few people who care to pay attention need to be appreciated.

To haircut or not to haircut?

This is more in the past tense and , indeed, it did become quite tense over the last few weeks. what started with an idea to cut cutting costs soon became an apprehension of how things would be post the dreaded haircut. The initial target of five months kept getting pushed. Raised eyebrows, gentle comments, witty jibes didn't mean a thing. It wasn't until my prof. remarked, 'I like the Einstein hair!', that I realized that the time had come for the scissors to go snip-snap (no scissors here, though, it turned out to be mainly the electric thing that worked on my head). And here I am, looking like Dexter to one, 'civil' to another. The barber, a rather affable character, guessed it must have been my first visit in four months. I laughed the enigmatic laugh that everyone should , in order to avoid embarassment. Madison's hard water gave me many a sleepless night last fall and the four mentioned previously was a gross understatement. 'Your friends might not recognize you tomorrow!', he guffawed. That remains to be seen, in a few hours. However, I am not too keen on a wager against that. It feels a lot lighter on the head, the bike helmet suddenly seemed a lot bigger and I cut down my time in the shower by a good five minutes.

Short hair is good. Period.

Chem. Graduate recruitment week @ UW Madison

Having been assigned the job of hosting a prospective student for my department's graduate program, I found myself holding a placard at the Dane County airport. With other grad (graduate) students and professors in tow, I was waiting for my guest student. As people started streaming out of the arrival gates, we rose in anticipation. Inadvertently, many of us started looking for a smile here, a wave there. We also began to guess if a certain person looked like a prospective grad student or not.

A few things made life easy for us hosts. Look for someone will a medium sized bag and possibly another backpack. We could remove a lot of people out of the equation this way. Next would be the age, early to late 20s is what we were looking for, although we knew this could lead us down many a false trails. Things started getting difficult beyond that. Specs for some, a serious, anxious look on some faces, a wide smile on others, a huge wave from a few, an assured walk and firm shake of hands... these did the trick.

Observations

Not all budding chemists look nerdy / intellectual. Far from it, I met this guy who walked up to a prof in a flowery, beach tee and shorts, with sunglasses, a flowing beard and long hair, a small backpack and the most casual walk I have seen in ages; like he was flying in fro, Hawaii! 'Not quite like what you would expect, right?', he exclaimed tongue-in-cheek to the Prof, who was his usual nice self in laughing it away spiritedly. Most guests to a prospective grad school are jittery, nervous and curious. It is best if grad students welcome them and show them around the place before they get to meet the faculty. They tend to feel more at home with fellow students who have been in a similar position earlier and that helps them ease into the things to follow. It is also a good idea to have an extended interaction session between guest and host students where guests could ask questions that why might not mouth with profs around. Having said that, it is crucial that professors speak to as many prospective students as possible. It gives the guests a feeling of being important and needed in the school. I know of schools and departments within my school where the profs simply don't care. This leaves a sense of insignificance in the minds of the visiting student and its highly likely that he or she would rather go to another school.

A lengthy session of talks after talks can be subjugated by one where each student can pick and choose the groups he or she wants to interact with. Meetings involving a bunch of students (around 5) and a research group work best because each student gets a fair idea of the group's profile and is given individual attention for queries. Posters do help in getting initiated into the group's affairs but don't go far beyond putting up beautiful pictures and photos.

A grand dinner to round it up is always welcome and much enjoyed. More so if it is in as beautiful a setting as Monona Terrace, Madison.

Another reminder from our politicos

The last week saw Indian polity taking yet another plunge into its darkest pothole, made increasingly deeper with each ugly incident over the past few decades. Far from acknowledging their uncouth and shameful conduct, the suspended Rajya Sabha members protested outside the Parliament, much like kids do when rapped on the knuckles for not behaving properly. The adjoining photo shows a gross misuse of Gandhi's statue. It also illustrates the extent to which our politicians have fallen over the years. The common man / woman has come to accept unruly politicians as a given. With all this talk of a young, vibrant India doing the rounds, I feel it is time we youths sat up, took notice and acted on such stark reminders of our nation's current state of advanced decay.

Let the mild, respectful conduct not be limited only to placed of worship, learning and our homes. Let our generation be led by committed, genuine leaders to its rightful glorious future.

Field Hockey World Cup, New Delhi'10 - Post 2

We are deep into the Hockey World Cup, standing at the doorstep of the knockout stage. As expected, the Asian teams, barring Korea, have underperformed; being beaten by lesser rated teams that managed to perform cohesively. The home team has been humbled in its previous two matches by Australia and Spain, two teams that it used to match stick for stick a decade ago. As this blog is being written, it plays England, for pride and happy memories.

From the looks, the round robin stage seems to have done justice to itself by sifting through the teams, giving a pool of teams that go into the next stage with almost equal honours. Individual brilliance has been unable to leave its mark so far, with the indomitable Pakistani drag flicker Sohail Abbas conceding that his team and himself did not perform well enough to make a difference. While Korea and Australia relied on their fast paced game and spontaneous counter attacks, teams like England have set up their goals beautifully.

The venue has lived up to its hype and the game's demands. It also seems like the tourney is a hit among the locals, which is a good sign for the game in a country forever crazy about the other gentleman's game.

An unfair world

Somewhere, at this very moment, people are recovering from earthquakes. Searching for missing friends and family, mustering enough courage to live long enough to see the sun rise again, picking up the broken pieces of their lives and moving on. A dream gone awry, a smile snuffed out, a tear too many...

Back home, a nation celebrates one of its million festivals. People eat sweets, apply colour on each other, make merry. Four goals mean life and death for some, momentary happiness for many. Elsewhere, two nations drink till they can drink no more as their hockey teams skate to gold and silver. Jokes are cracked over movies, chips and banana bread, completely oblivious of what's happening to our fellow brothers and sisters in another part of the glopbe. A vision too shallow, a wish too small...

An unfair world, or so it seems...

Field Hockey World Cup, New Delhi'10 - Post 1

The Hockey World Cup is here! New Delhi seems to have come up with a state of the art hockey field, replete with dug outs, swanky lcd displays, comfortable seating and a slick playing turf. A recent Bollywood movie that glorified the sport and the said stadium is still fresh in memory, although it is said that one needs a movie to popularise any sport. Having said that, any new lease of life to field hockey in India is welcome, keeping in mind the abyss into which our sport has plunged over the last couple of decades. Failing to qualify for the Olympics in 2008 was the final nail in the coffin. Indian hockey has suffered from poor administration and press coverage and it must take a cue from its cricketing counterparts. I still don't understand why or how the cricketing fever caught the minds and hearts of the blue billion. But I shall leave that for another post.

As I write, Spain has been pressurized and made to overwork by minnows South Africa. The Olympic silver medalists finally huffed and puffed their way to a 4 -2 win. The much-touted Aussies were shocked by arch rivals England in what is arguable the second best rivalry in any sport across the planet. Completing the dream opening day of this year's World Cup, India and Pakistan are scooping it out with the former enjoying a 3 - 0 lead with 16 minutes to go for the hooter. Pakistan have, undoubtedly, had the final laugh in field hockey, including a recent 6 -3 drubbing in Salta, Argentina. With some legendary players like Rehan Butt, Dilawar Hussain and the trump card Sohail Abbas, they definitely look the better team on paper. India, on the other hand, seems to be a motley group of proven performers and bright youngsters, though the lack of dazzling talents like a Dhanraj Pillay or a Jugraj Singh is too evident to miss. It also has a remarkable tendency to choke in the dying minutes of any game and give away the lead. The next fifteen minutes would tell.

Thousands of miles away, another keen tussle is on cards this evening. The USA plays Canada to decide who takes the gold and comes up on top in a cross border tussle for supremacy in the final of the Winter Olympics Ice Hockey.

And the two hours break means that I can also write about India's 'Holi' 4-1 win. Hmm... the people are quiet, at least for now.

I got this in a forward and couldn't resist uploading it here. This piece conveys exactly what I am starting to realise.

Free thoughts

'No one likes bondage, everyone wants to be free', says a freedom fighter in a documentary I just finished watching.

'You are already free. Know it and you will experience it automatically', says a spiritual guru to millions across the globe who want to be free.

'A ruler can rule you only if you agree to obey him / her. Stop obeying the rule(r) and you have vanquished him of his position', says an insightful friend.

Born free, getting rid of the shackles, looking into a free tomorrow.

Musings

Coffee sippers being shot in India, a desperate professor refusing to believe what she had just done in a US university and a brilliant sportsman crashing to the heavens in Canada.

And here I am, sitting in the comfortable confines of my lab, rattling away on the keyboard. A few hours ago, I was hogging away on a sumptuous dinner. When the first incident mentioned above was unveiling itself, I was wading into my dreams, as the tenure-terror struck Huntsville, I was pretending to learn Genomics and as the luge guy crashed his fate, I was probably counting myself lucky, as I often do, for being where I was. With no clue of what's happening on the other side of the planet, the adjacent country, why... the very next door.

The 10'ers - A first look

This is one of the rare inside scoops about the 10'ers, a motley gang of individuals destined to each others' company for a couple of years between 2009 and 2011.

First up is the kid. Haphazard sleep cycles, an over-aggressive boss and an unending tendency to goof up adds to a rather happening lifestyle. From dozing off with his laptop on the couch to his Finland tales (that are thankfully in danger of extinction) and his views about almost every topic that you can come up with, the man has done it all. As of now, he is looking to keep his boss, and therefore himself, happy.

Next in line is the cool dude. He manages everything that he takes up with a charming ease. Admin. issues like getting a license, meeting deadlines, cooking up some awesome Indian food and starting up on a belly reducing project, everything gets warmed up to completion. The guy also has an amazing ability to take short naps, without allowing them to stretch to double digit hours.

Over the last couple of paragraphs, I have been fighting hard to introduce the genius of the gang. Hormander, Tao, Russel, et. al. will soon start shivering in their seats. This is the next big thing in several complex variables (as if one wasn't enough!). His day starts with a proof and ends with another. In between, he also finds time to get high on coffee, teach undergrad mathematics, pump it up in the gym and satiate his love for Indian classical music.

The latest addition to the 10'ers is the macho guy. His is the life that most of us have seen in the movies. There is this famous story of how Amitabh Bachchan moved into Bombay and slept on the streets for a night, before making it big in the Hindi film industry. Our man is striking a few parallels miles away from home. From handing out free ice creams and spending an hour in the gym without moving a limb to finishing up every homework right in the nick of time, this guy knows how to get the job done. He also cooks some amazing Indian food, which is always welcome!

And finally, yours truly!

Here are some pics from the 10'ers, in striking poses and moods.

(The cool guy, in a moment of deep enlightenment)

(Grey cells)

(The Math Mamba)


(The cool dude)

India Quiz

What was called Heptanesia by Ptolemy around A.D. 150?

Post your answers as comments. No cheating! I will post the correct answer in two days.

Hindi-'bhaashi' in Madison

This post is about arguably the most interesting conversation I have had in Madison. Sriram (one of my roomies) and I went to get some Italian dinner last week. Sri heard his name being called out, pronounced as perfectly as it could be, and got a 'Dhanyavaad' (hindi for 'thank you') as he picked up his food from the counter. He came back, understandable amused. We thought Slumdog Millionare was having its effect and the guy must have caught it from some Indian friend. We soon became engrossed in the meal and it gobbled it up within minutes. As we lined up to deposite the plates, the same guy was cleaning up and offered to take our empty dishes. The same 'dhanyavaad' followed with a smile. But I was not quite prepared for what followed. Here is the ensuing conversation (with English translations in parantheses).

The guy: Pichle saal Banaras mein pad rahaa thaa. (Was studying in Banaras last year)

Me (amused and bewildered!): Achchaa! Kya pad rahe they? (Oh yeah! What were you studying?)

The guy (after a one second pause): Zindagi (Life) (can you imagine anyone saying that, that too in a hip Italian restaurant on the busiest street of Madison in another language!)

Me: Wah wah! (Nice!)

The guy (smiles): Rajniti ke baare mein pad rahaa tha. Das maheene rahaa Banaras mein. (Was studying politics. Stayed in Banaras for ten months.)

Me: Achchaa laga? (Liked it?)

The guy: Haan haan, bahut achchaa lagaa. Aur ab idhar University mein Hindi ki padhai jaari hai. Mere adhyaapak kaa naam hai .... Thoda thoda likhna, padhna aur bolna aata hai. (Yeah yeah, I loved it. And I am continuing Hindi studies in the University here. My teacher's name is .... I know to write, read and speak a little bit)

Me: Great man.. Aapse milke bahut khushi hui. (It was great to meet you.)

The guy: Mujhe bhi. Aapka naam? (Me too. What's your name?)
Mujhe bhi. Aapka naam
Me: Rangarajan (He got it on the second count, which is pretty good. Most of my friends from up North India had a tough first few times with my name) Aur aapka? (And yours?)

The guy: Chris, hindi mein Kishan! (in hindi, its Kishan)

(End of conversation)

What a guy! And all this was spoken in chaste hindi, without any over stressing of the 'R's or stumbling with syllables or hastening of sentences. Come to think of it, I could count the number of times I have heard someone use the word 'adhyaapak' outside the classroom in India.

Answer to the Mark Twain quiz

It is the Indian crow that he refers to (read the previous post).

Mark Twain Quiz

Here is an excerpt from Mark Twain's account of his early days in Bombay, sometime in 1895. You need to guess who he is referring to.

'He has been reincarnated more times than Shiva; and he has kept a sample of each incarnation, and fused it into his constitution. In the course of his evolutionary promotions, his sublime march toward ultimate perfection, he has been a gambler, a low comedian, a dissolute priest, a fussy woman, a blackguard, a scoffer, a liar, a thief, a spy, an informer, a trading politician, a swindler, a professional hypocrite, a patriot for cash, a reformer, a lecturer, a lawyer, a conspirator, a rebel, a royalist, a democrat, a practicer and propagator of irreverence, a meddler, an intruder, a busybody, an infidel, and a wallower in sin for the mere love of it. The strange result, the incredible result, of this patient accumulation of all damnable traits is, that he does not know what care is, he does not know what sorrow is, he does not know what remorse is; his life is one long thundering ecstasy of happiness, and he will go to his death untroubled, knowing that he will soon turn up again as an author or something, and be even more intolerably capable and comfortable than ever he was before'.

Awesome Saturday Part II

'3 Idiots' has been making waves back home. And having just finished a couple of years in a place that made me feel like an idiot more often than not, I could relate to the idea a lot. Also, this was going to be my first desi movie in ages. With such awesome friends to boot, a great afternoon was in store.

I liked the movie for the scene following the examination, the crazy bathroom dance sequence, the beautiful locales of Leh and Laddakh (I still suspect some of the scence were shot outside India, but I am pretty sure I am wrong, the hills of India are a treat to the eyes) and for some well timed humour. However, I was expecting a classic Raju Hirani comic product but came out a tad disappointed. The movie was light hearted and did make for a nice outing. But it was too predictable, some jokes were stale, and the ending was just out of the Great Cook Book of Bollywood. As our post-movie dissection concluded, we also agreed that a lot of issues, deeds and attitudes were projected unrealistically. I can't see how a totally vella dude can top all the exams. I was vella yes.. and no, I never topped the exams (far from it, ahem! ... but that's got be another story). Nice one overall, but I still can't understand the super duper hit status that it has been awarded back home.

The icing on my awesome Saturday was the potluck following the movie. Masala dosa, Sambhar, dal, rotis, cake and gooseberry pie, with ice cream made for a mouthwatering feast. Strangers became friends over food and by the end of countless rounds of mafia, everyone seemed to have known everyone else for ages.

The desi gang in Oak tree is getting closer with each bite!

Lunching out

Any other Saturday would have meant a few extra hours of sleep, a hassle-free morning, a long nap after a sumptuous lunch and the day zipping by. But today was different. The morning flowed in a rhythm, and as the sun shone brightly, things looked cheerful. I guess it was, apart from other things, the fruits and milk breakfast that did it. Too many days of cereal probably warranted a change.

However, I suspect it was more so because of what lay ahead. A lunch with my friends Amanda, Rajeev bhaiya, Aswini, Sharanya and Vivek. We meet at least once a week and to get together and breathe! But today, we decided to take our tummies out for some exercise at Swagat, an Indian restaurant in Madison (Swagat is Hindi for Welcome).

Indian buffets in Madison are pretty much the same regardless of the restaurant. Starters include moong dal and rasam as soups! Snacks include dahi vada, samosa, bhel puri, cutlets etc. Typical veggie dishes are bhindi masala, dum aalo, chhole; while the carnivores can hog on fish fry, chicken tikka masala, etc. All this with plain rice, veg. and chicken biryani, naan, bhature and masala dosa as breads. Desserts have also become mundane with rasgulla, mango ice cream, caramel custard, rasmalai and semiya payasam. And, I forgot to add mango lassi, which also seems to be a big hit here (I have never had mango lassi in India).

All this made for a stuffed tummy, a series of yawns and a sound sleep for the rest of the day! But we had other plans for the post-lunch session, which I shall write about tomorow.

Cat in the basket

I have known this story for quite some time, but my brother put it the way it is in the title in an email, and I thought I should post it here.

This is one of the ways by which a practise becomes a belief and eventually a superstition.

Many moons ago, a pious, God-fearing family lived in India. They used to perform a pooja (Hindi for prayer) every morning so as to appease the Gods. Lamps were lit, songs sung and delicacies offered The offerings consisted of fruits, sweets and a glass of milk (for some strange reason, every God eats and drinks sumptuously!). Only after the pooja was over would the family eat its first morsel for the day.

The house also had a pet cat. Being apparently less devotional, the cat would sneak up to the pooja and lick a few drops of milk from the container. Once this was discovered, the family used to keep the cat covered with a basket, so that it did not interfere in the prayers.

Years passed, the cat ran away, the kids became young men and women, the parents grew old and died, but the prayers continued. Now, the kids had always known that 'a cat was kept covered under a basket' during the pooja. So, every time a pooja was scheduled they would go to the pet shop, rent out a cat for a day, bring it home, cover it with a basket and then start their pooja. The cat in the basket became an inseparable component of the pooja. No cat in the basket? Whaaaat! The Gods are gonna get angry... so went the notion.

And thus, a reasonable practise became a superstition.

Hilarious videos

A friend showed me these two videos and I can't stop laughing whenever I think about them. Watch them NOW!

Video 1

Video 2

Whatever

It is the most disgusting word I have heard, that too on umpteen occasions like formal meetings, seminars, interviews and scientific presentations. The context 'whatever' can be used in ranges from demeaning and dismissive to utter indifference and ignorance. Professors on interview panels get irritated when a student finished up an answer by a dragged 'whatever...'. Rather amusingly, many senior researchers also join the party while in discussion with colleagues from other areas of interest. Admittedly, it makes for a nice cover up job.

however, it is an instant turn-off to the knowledge-seeker, and I always get the feeling that the speaker is either clueless or completely disinterested in what he / she is saying. It would be so much better if ignorance is accepted and help sought.

The Great New Year

'Its New Year.. Yay! Lets dance and sing and drink and make merry, 'coz the last two digits on the date are gonna change for the next 365 dates, and then we shall celebrate again!'

My roomie Sriram suspects this New year business, like many other celebrations, is a mere marketing policy. You spend, I spend, everybody spends... on things ranging from food and dresses to flight tickets, phone calls, et al.

Won't things be much better if one could take a vacation as per individual desires?

The Aussies welcomed the New year by dumping tons of poison into the planet and their leader calls is 'an environment-friendly celebration'. Right! And we Indians need not feel so happy, having converted a festival of lights to one of sound, smoke and accidents.

Looking back, I guess my greatest new year eve was in high school when students from all across the country gathered in Bangalore to discuss the importance of values in our education system. I remember we entered the millenium singing songs and meditating. It was surreal... and a far cry from the madness in NY, Sydney, and the like.