Well, this guy teaches us something called measure theory, a weird hotch potch of something called real analysis and something called probability. I know this will seem out of the world to muggles but really can’t help it. Maths is supposed to be like that. At least some of the so called right-brains claim that, and even take pride of that. Dunno why, by someone says the education system is right brain oriented, and though i’m subconsciously proud of it coz i’m someone with the same inclination, still someone inside says this ain’t fair. But anyway someone who gets good marks in science more often than nt does well in literature, so who cares? Or is it the system that makes them do well? Dunno. Ok lemme come back to gokobo for now. A quintessentially stereotype mathematcian. Just a robot. C’mon man, we just told you last night that we’ll give ur test today, and we didnt know the prime time thingy will continue for so long so please excuse us. Then why bother us in the middle of the last night sleep that we’re trying to salvage? What did u gain bringing 7 sleepy as hell to your class and continue till 1:20? And you say you appreciate this that we’ve managed to come to your class. Woahhh, what sympathy. C’mon man, grow up. Agreed maths is God’s language but… i don’t know. It does not give you free ticket to rule over what other people do or think. Try to understand. We know that not doing a measure class will be bad, but… I know you won’t understand. These people never understand. The stat math unit is full of people like this. “Right brained” purists will say. “Snobs” left braineds will say. ”Unbalanced” i say. In everything in the world, if there is something that i’ve learnt in these 21 yrs of my life, is that balance is essential, it’s the key thing. Say the left-right brained concept, or main bhaumik’s science-spiritual debate or the fine line between making a girlfriend and being committed, it’s balance that matters.
Of course it’s still sinking in that I’m now in the Masters course. Things are going just fine. In the class, on the field, my Google desktop and Digsby, studying for and not for the exam, arbitgiri, exotic chocolates … a good start to the year I’d say. Made an unlikely new friend in the campus, with she inferring that I’m a good guy (!?) after talking to me just for a couple of minutes.
Yet, somewhere deep inside, I remain pensive. Sometimes it becomes so painstakingly frustrating to realize that it’s still there. It still feels the same way it felt a year back. I don’t know. I’ve done some things I still can’t believe, some I still regret (do I?). I know I have to spend a couple of years here, but bidding farewell won’t be easy. Circumstances made me believe anything is possible, but … I just don’t know.
I can never do it. Actually sitting down to write a post on a single subject … i can’t do that. It takes so much time to think out and structure every sentence.
Anyways. Got a few ‘plans’ for the next few days. They go something like this …
1. Have to give a wretched exam. Period.
2. Someone ‘statistically’ judged that I write like Stephen King. So will try to read up at least one of his pieces. Also, maybe, one by Lovecraft.
3. Finally know which songs I’m good at … low notes, slow tempo, classical-ish. But I need more control on the voice. I start well, but drift away in the middle. Will try to get the hang of Mora Saiyyan.
4. Too many new people (read freshers) around. The feeling of being ajnabi in your own backyard is back again. Waiting for freshers
Tatz for now … more soon …
Tired of this habit, really … for about a month guiltily fretting over the fact that I haven’t written anything in my blog in the previous one month, then one fine fortunate day popping up to give some updates, with the post titled ‘update’ or something in the lines of that …
Sometimes one just can’t comprehend what his own brain is doing, what it is thinking about. You try to shut it out about something, try to just forgive (yourself) and forget, try to look forward … but saale sunta hi nahin. It’s very hard to ignore if the thought takes so much space in the brain, just the ideas, and wild daydreamings … the weight just refuses to budge either way. I have done things impulsively, without giving any thought, and now i’m in a blind alley, burdened with a queer infatuation. I know what i feel, but i do not know what to do about it, absolutely nothing. Someone told me not to be myself, but what i think of myself, in that situation, but sure enough, ‘somehow i got caught up in between’ … now i think why on earth i did what he told, why on earth I didn’t remember what Mr. Hitchens said, ‘Basic principles … there’s none’.
Queer how it transforms you, how it motivates you. Queer how sensitive and expressive you become to your other commitments. All because of a single nagging feeling at the back of your mind. Sometimes I think ‘thank God, it’s over, FINALLY’, and suddenly it all comes flooding back … the whole cycle. Sometimes it’s only a smile, sometimes because of a fateful night. They say ‘out of sight, out of mind’, but I now see exceptions sure enough.
Here goes the sequel, for this year’s wall mag …
Since my revered predecessor emosanal.gongaforing’s novel efforts on this very wall to lay down some customized ‘Pyaar ke superhit formulae’ for the typical ISI-an (almost by default a guy), it’s been more than a couple of years. Things have improved from teaching She++ to Charlie’s Angels, confusions about the paternity of a certain Tejendranarayan (aka Ghunchu) or ‘ei shono, tumi aj begun kheyecho?’-type floor-wise lovegurus, I can tell you. Of course it’s not that lovebirds are suddenly raining out here (in pairs, that is), but the so-called meye-independent purists have surely been in for a jolt.
On recently being asked by gongaforing senior, I couldn’t find any new ‘confirmed’ couple since his departure about a year ago. But of course, it’s not what it seems. Sparks have been flying for sure, because ‘love is in the air of ISI’ (no pun or cliché intended, but one of the freshers wrote these very words in her questionnaire). In fact you can blame the inference of there not being any new couple to being short on information and update about some of the transitional and confusing cases, and I am NOT referring to the New Zealanders (surely you’re fit to be one if you can’t get it).
Although guys out here still don’t have the money for Castrol GTX to feed their bikes, it seems desi isn’t doing a bad job. They were advised a couple of years back to follow the much trodden path – the excitingly filmy ‘love comes out of contrast and conflict’ funda. But, needless to say, one needs to customize the advices to make them fit and feasible for a bhosteller. My advice is, follow the middle path, and as you look around you can easily see examples. It’s imperative not being direct because almost surely the ISI-an guy inside you will lose confidence and will have two options : either meekly try to ‘defend’ your point and receive a lecture from her, or back off and plain go dumb after saying ‘not entirely …’ when she asks you ‘… so was this all a joke ?’. Don’t be totally inert as well, like not go talk to her because of sheer confusion as she sits alone near you in a near-empty mess. Just be confident, balanced, and you’ll soon find yourself talking to her in unspoken languages, or at the receiving end of weird requests like letting her know how alcohol smells.
One more thing. Be on either side of the line … either pursue her consciously, without caring a hang about what people all around are speculating about you two, or be a devdas, finding ‘dark’ solace in death metal music, or learning break dance alongside that very guy who is your nemesis. But don’t, I repeat, DON’T be a platonic lover … it sucks. Why care about her when it’s of no use, eh? It’s just a theory for losers. There’s one more downside of this. Suddenly you’ll see you’re at the center of unwanted attention from some aggressive samples of the fairer sex, irrespective of age, looks, or, for that matter, ethnicity. You’ll never know when you’ll find one of them in your room doing bhaat with you about some B-grade English movie or some trip. And be either fully in or out of the ‘love league’. It’s one thing if you’re not tuned in to the frequency, but for God’s sake, don’t send e-mails asking her to accept your friend request (yes, in Orkut), or do things like vying for her attention with a certain M.T. during DJ in the annual fest and getting it videoed, or making a Treasure Hunt as a gift for your friend’s significant other, hoping to meet (and …) some of her friends during the party afterwards. Believe me, these kind of cavalier ideas scream of desperation. Be patient, yaar … remember, sabr ka fal meetha hota hai, and these things will only make a bunny out of you if they come out (and inevitably, they do).
As Mr. gongaforing originally asserted, I’m not a loveguru as well. You can do the ‘Hitch’ comparison to some extent if you want to, but I tell you I’m a novice in this myself, otherwise I won’t be writing this, because it is more a ‘not to do’ list than a ‘to do’ one concerning the theory of love. Anyways lovegurus can initiate things, but at some point you have to take over, and from then on intuition rules. Apart from the fundabaazi, if everything else fails, just tell her … of course you can make it interesting by doing it through Dumb-C (concept courtesy Dasvidaniya). In short, don’t be content with a mere share of the taxi-fare, as people used to say !
It’s weird. The more I think about it, the more I get confused about what might me the fortunate subject on which I’ll get my PhD.
Currently i’m doing a couple of projects … one in Economics, or rather Econometrics, another in Number Theory/Statistics as part of my course. Plans for summer surely include going away to Indore on 23-25 May for presenting the partial work on Microchimerism in a medical students conference, Silhouette 2010, which is a strictly biomedical project with easy snippets of Statistics applied for data analysis. There’s a possibility i might go off to Colombia to work on Statistical Chemistry, the only problem being funds. In case, things do not materialize (which at the moment seem very likely) I’ll probably do something on it through correspondence. And of course, there remain my own conceived ideas in cold storage about the lattice game which is veering towards the terrains of Statistical Mechanics … I’d love to work on it, but desperately need some dedicated help.
Almost everyone has applied for some outstation summer school, except me. I’ve got a bad feeling that i’m going to spend this summer in Kolkata as well. Let’s see !
It’s an awesome composition, by the great aachu ( now in UC Davis). Hats off, really. It came out in the last edition of ‘Raman Effect’, our wall mag. This year i’m gonna ‘update’ it for the hostel mag. A tough job, no doubt …
They say love is a thing worth dying for. They also say death is a thing not worth loving. Such is the paradoxical nature of undying love. What a pity! Well, this minor quibble is just a prelude to a more reflective (!) piece of literature that accentuates (!!) this prestigious (!!!) wall magazine. Promising no more extraneous exclamation, I delve into the topic, which, I fear, might culminate in a bit more eccentric note than I conceive it to be.
When Ritam asked me to scribble a few words for Raman Effect, I was devoid of any damn idea about what to write. Whenever I come across such situations, I pick up a book and modify plagiarized concepts. He kept on pestering and I kept on bluffing that the gravy is well prepared; I just need the fish and the Kaliya would be ready within Monday. In the meantime I grabbed Coelho’s Zahir from JJR’s nest and started turning the pages in rapid succession. Going through 90 of them I cruised to success. This is the guy I’m looking for. Hallelujah!!
Those who’ve read the book know who Mikhail is. To those who haven’t, it is irrelevant. But I want to brief the Mongolian creation myth that he recited. According to it, ” There came a wild dog who was blue and grey and whose destiny was imposed on him by the heavens. His mate was a roe deer.” The eternal hunter and the hunted stuff, but the tinge of spice comes right here. Instead of destroying each other, they fell in love. Wow!! ” .. two impossibilities who have found each other, and because they overcome their own natures and their barriers, they make the world possible too.” The bottom line- out of two different natures, the flower of love blossoms. In contradiction, it spreads its fragrance. In confrontation and transformation, it is forever preserved. I’ve got my cup of coffee!
Wandering in the ISI campus for a span of nearly three and half years, I’ve often wondered why on earth this institution fails to produce lovebirds in greater extent in these days. Given the freedom to discuss, successful instances will comprise of, regrettably, degenerate case. Dangling stories that Mr. X is seen flanked by Miss Y 1, Miss Y2, …, Miss Ynor that Mr. X is often seen loitering around the LH when the early morning sky starts blushing or that Mr. Z is seen chatting with Miss W for, say nearly an hour (and even the droplets of rain couldn’t distract their attention) or that Mr. Z has asked his juniors to keep an eye on Miss W, for she is the only girl he cares about– are never acknowledged in their true spirit, i.e., Mr. X or Mr. Z are fodders of Cupid. On the contrary, frustrated people make fun of them and these stories resonate with backbenchers’ mirth, the teacher threatens the class with dire consequences, and a budding love story goes haywire. Intelligent are those who keep it hush-hush and one fine morning you visit your dear friend’s orkut profile to see her relationship status changed overnight. And when you ask her about the guy, she chuckles mysteriously and you have to explore yourself that your nice decent classmate is her reticent lover. Did you get the moral? Don’t be expressive. Exhibitionism is the worst form of the art. Be secretive. Get your heart under wraps. Prepare your fishing rod. Choose the right bait. Wait for the Eureka moment.
But I’m going out of the track. I don’t want to be your love guru! Invoke Mikhail. What did he say? Confrontation, contradiction etc are the catalysts of a successful love story. I think he’s bloody correct. Look at Bollywood. Look at the so-called evergreen romantic films. What is the spectacle? Boy meets girl—boy irritates girl—boy croons chutkule numbers where his heart, thanks to his choreographer, slides down to his abdomen—girl slaps boy—now boy turns indifferent to the girl—girl starts missing his mischievous activities—one day goons tease the girl—girl cries for help and boy appears as her savior — making a mess of the shooting spot, boy pretends to ignore girl and the girl does the rest to complete the story. I know you don’t give a damn to these “cheap”, “naïve” storyline. But, I do believe this is exactly how a real love story should develop. In confrontations, in contradictions. And this is precisely the problem with ISI. Boys don’t even dare to tease girls. Keep campus dancing way apart, have you ever seen our coolest dude dedicating a song like ” dekha jo tujhe yaar, dilme baji guitar” to a girl and the girl giving a tight slap right on his face? If you think I’m advocating eve teasing, I can’t help. I’m just speaking my heart out. Whenever it comes to dedicating a romantic song in ripples/ spotlight the guys blush in shame and use adjectives pronouns adverbs conjunctions and even interjections but not proper nouns.
So, what’s the solution? Feed Castrol GTX to your bike. Strengthen your muscles. Mug up the latest hip-shaking track. Learn to whistle. Learn to pass comments and have a get-up so that you remain thoroughly indistinguishable from street-rowdies. Only such hardcore treatments can put these fruitless gossips to rout. Unless you mix hydrochloric acid with nitric acid, you can’t dissolve something as precious as gold. To grow a good chemistry, you have to start with collision. I assure you, the metamorphosis of a smack into a kiss hardly takes a couple of months. All you have to do is to keep patience and have blind faith in Mikhail.
Only then you can dream of achieving something bigger than a mere share of taxi fare!