Facebook Layoffs

A recent comment from good friend Uss got me thinking. He remarked that we have 222 friends in common on Facebook. I shifted from Orkut to Facebook over two years back because the number of people on my friends list was getting too big to handle. It had begun to hover around the four hundred mark and I was pretty sure I didn’t have so many friends. Not with my demeanour.

Facebook looked more exclusive and I decided start my virtual life anew. No more of the wild wanton Orkut days where every friend request had to be accepted unless it was a Brazilian whom I was pretty sure I hadn’t met. Now this was before the dastardly days of Mafia requests and Farmville invites. Facebook used to be a place where simple, sober people used to interact and the wildest anyone got was by throwing sheep or super poking someone. A complacency slowly crept in thanks to an increasingly misplaced sense of exclusiveness. That combined with a host of circumstances like electoral compulsions, graduation sensitivities, romantic liaisons, nostalgic affections and professional commitments made things worse resulting in the screening process for friend request reaching very deplorable limits. The only thing easier than getting into my friend list was sleeping with Tiger Woods.

Now things have come to a head. I can’t be comfortable with over five hundred people claiming to be my friend. What if they all decide to borrow money at the same time? And now that I am no longer fighting elections, have graduated, not getting hitched and beginning to lose memory, it is time to follow the world’s premier corporations in what they do best . Lay-offs. Right. I have decided to lay-off a huge part of my friends and slim down my friend-list. I need to be ready to face the challenges of the upcoming upturn with an elegant, tidy friend-list devoid of redundancy and surplus . In this age it helps to be ruthlessly professional about everything. Even your Facebook profile.

Thankfully I am not at a loss on how to execute this challenging task. My last few months have been spent closely observing how my own company does it and I have decided to replicate the process. I will call it F.O.R (Friendship Outsourcing Resource). This is how it will work.

• A list of the ‘indispensables’ will be created. They include EIC, MM, WOF, Shaastra core members, old comrades whose advice is valued, individuals whose references are valued, HNIs, brother and mom. They are exempted from the F.O.R process and need not bother. Their indispensability will however be reviewed every five years.

• One individual will be selected from each of the top Univs in the US depending on their ability to build networks in their campuses and their propensity to assist me in times of need. They are exempted from the F.O.R but their relevance will be reviewed on a quarterly basis. Friendship will be renewed from the first of April of every year depending on the annual appraisal report.

• The same will be done for all Fortune 500 contacts.

• All females are exempted. They form only 15% of the total numbers. Defunct relationships will be slowly phased out by the last quarter of 2010 and replaced with new initiatives. The idea is to keep the percentage at 15% and increased only in select cases when they seem to add intellect or glamour to the list.

• All foreigners (not NRIs) are exempted till I have travelled enough to believe having foreigners, who are just aquantainces on the list is not so cool anymore.

• Everybody else who do not fall under the above criterions will have to re-apply with a new friendship request with a note detailing why continuing our association online is a good idea and how it may further the individual social development of both.

• The requests will be scrutinized by me and the selected individuals will be offered a two year friendship deal. The deal will include mutually agreed upon commitments on the number of status message comments, likes, photo comments, wall posts and personality votes which we will deliver unto each others profiles. Once we are clear on the deliverables and agree to contract termination in event of Mafia/Farmville invites or reneging on the deliverables, we re-induct each other in our lists.

• There will be quite a few who don’t make the cut and they will be summarily receive a letter of regret. Every mail will be personalized because I believe lay-offs should always have a humane touch. A sample is given below.

It breaks my heart to say this but I think we should we on other people’s live feed from now on. Your contributions to my profile have been immense but as you can understand, to face society more confidently I need people with skills other than yours. Please feel free to call or meet me as long as it just once a year and it is in a public place.

Following the methodologies stated above, I hope to cut up to 60% of the names currently present. I understand everyone who will need to go through F.O.R are speculating exactly on what standards will the applications be evaluated. I want my friend list to get rid of its engineer & IIT focus and have a more diversified portfolio of individuals. I admit there will be an informal 2% quota for genuine sportsmen. People with a background in the arts with an understanding of Bernoulli’s theorem or vice versa have an edge over anyone with just one of the qualities.

We cannot predict whether this pink slip method will improve my social standing and give me more control over my virtual life. A committee of my alter-egos will go though the quarterly results and bring out a review in the annual Facebook profile report ‘Why do I have so much free time and what I do with it’. Pdfs will be mailed to anyone interested in going through it.

If you like it rate it & share it!

Chennai vs Bangalore

This post is dedicated to good friend Muski’s memory. Recently he had to undergo an inhuman job transfer from Bangalore back to Chennai. He has been incommunicado since and none of his well-wishers are aware of how or whether he has coped up with the drastic change.

I am getting tired of shooting people in the face whenever they ask me which city is better for people like us with lives- Chennai or Bangalore. Getting rid of bodies is no longer as easy as it used to be. So I have listed a few irrefutable reasons below. The whole thing may look more like a diatribe against Chennai than anything for Bangalore. But let’s dispense with the standard forms of debate and comparison in this one instance.

The weather: Bangalore has one. Chennai doesn’t.

The autowallahs: Anybody who has lived in Chennai long enough often fantasize about raiding the auto wallah’s village on horseback in the middle of the night and razing it to the ground. Let me declare unequivocally that the auto-drivers of Bangalore are no saints but at least they won’t start whining ‘twenty rupees more saar’ as soon as we are two miles within our destination.

Language issues: I am all for a parochial approach to the enforcement of the local language as long as it postponed to a future date on a regular basis (like in Bangalore). If you want to call yourself a metro, you need to speak English & Hindi as properly as Tamil. It’s not a question of pride but of pragmatism.

Buses: Either have buses which move fast like in Delhi or have more Volvos like in Bangalore so that while you are stuck in a jam, its seems a wee bit more comfortable. Being in rickety tin boxes packed like sardines while in a traffic jam. Not good.

Alcohol Policy & Pubs: While I have been told that the draconian and Tughlakish alcohol policy of Chennai which stifled most brands out of the market, has been repealed after dire legal threats from WTO and people no longer have to be exposed to the radioactive MGM (orange flavoured, mind you), it isn’t enough. Pubbing in Chennai is like sea-food restaurants in Darjeeling. Non-existent. Either I have to go to one of those Residency series of hotels where I need to take out a personal loan from SBI so as to afford a mojito or I have go to places like Black Pearl where one is advised to carry a bucket so that you have something to puke in because of the stench and filth around.

Multiplexes: The puritans will scoff at me for including this point but my elitist days are long gone. Now I am a man of the masses and will not hesitate to assert that no self-respecting city with over ten million people should have fewer multiplexes less than my home town, which incidentally can be seen only with maximum magnification in Google Earth. It’s unheard off and people should just migrate in protest.

Cinema hall commercials: Don’t we love the trailers before the movie? Usually they are better than the movie that follows. Just like the course description in Meta electives usually read better than what the course ultimately delivered. So when I realize that the lavishly mounted video was not the teaser for the next blockbuster but a surreptitiously directed effort at making me buy hyper-expensive saris or worse, diamond jewellery, I have very good reasons to get pissed.

Culture: Whatever your taste in culture may be, you can indulge in it as long as it is Carnatic music.

Shopping: Why does the dosa shop, towel shop, jewellery shop and everything else in the world shop have to be a variant of the hydra headed Sarvanna store?

Newspaper: What’s with the gravitas in the daily editorials of the Hindu? We are Indians. We don’t care much for balanced editorials, foreign news reports, incisive columns which are not about Kim Kardashian or Rakhi Sawant. ToI rocks baby. And it’s cheaper.

Weather: At the risk of sounding repetitive, I must strongly re-emphasize that Bangalore has one. Chennai doesn’t.

But there is one aspect where Chennai scores in a big way over Bangalore. Did you know that the greatest most awsomest brilliantest place on earth, IIT Madras is actually in Chennai? Surprising but true. (Don’t you love blatant pandering to your biggest readership constituency?)

If IIT had been in Bangalore, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I would still be trying to graduate.

Friday Terror!

Last Thursday Google Buzz had just got released and in my childish enthusiasm, I foolishly chided a good friend in the public domain for having reneging on a promise to meet up.In true spirit of Achmed the dead terrorist, I went so far as to call him an infidel. The good man, lets call him Keynesian Versus Moniterist or KVM, ruffled by the frontal attack replied with a gem of a mail explaining his frustrations with frequent business travel and the associated red tape.

Taking a page out of Google who violated my privacy by making me automatically follow people on Buzz whom I usually avoid by preferring to get diarrhoea, I am blatantly violating email confidentiality and pasting his mail below.

"O Master, the most merciful and the most beneficent! I was recently greatly alarmed to see, of all places on Google Buzz, that have you summarily declared me an Infidel! My numerous, exuberant, overflowing apologies! I am painfully aware of the unfulfilledness of my promises, my liege, and I only beg to humbly state, nay, whisper, that the current owners of my soul, Messrs. S******, are quite adept at making good use of their purchases.

Since the sale occurred, I have travelled the length and breadth of the country, and unlike Mr. Macaulay, I have not a single observation that will be pillaged and plagiarized by posterity on rediff forums. All I have are arcane procedures to file Domestic Travel Requisitions and Post Travel Regularizations gambolling in my head when I sleep on bus journeys, and in a slight variation to the Kekule theme, I see myself eaten up by the bureaucracy I spawn.

Under such terrifying circumstances, O paragon of virtue, would you blame me for wasting away on Google Buzz? Arise into a thunderous tempest, O ocean of kindness, and send forth a gale of forgiveness my way, lest I continue with the atrocious vocatives and metaphors"

Reading this the first thing on Friday morning put me under tremendous pressure to send a reply at least half as good. But how could I match up to such brilliance? It had references to obscure Indian History, organic chemistry trivia, cult forums and read like the Koran at the same time! I asked my imaginary secretary to cancel all my appointments for the day and walked about the apartment sweating profusely and biting my nails to bits, thinking. Lunch was missed, gym skipped, facebooking shelved. But to no avail. Expectedly I gave in by late evening. Trembling in apprehension and drowning in self-loathing I sent this reply.

"Not even the recently Predatored Hakimullah Mehsud, while having a bad bout of indigestion would have been so ill-tempered so as not to be swayed by such a benevolent and munificent plea for exoneration. The beauty and the wonder of the entreaty lies in the fact that it delicately and yet convincingly makes the wronged feel guilty of his unduly harsh and substantially hasty step of having Buzzed his sentiments publicly.

Fear not the needless requisition forms! For in me you will find an equally maltreated victim of a system which revels in draping themselves in red tape. Disguised innocently in terms as Journey Management Plans and Travel Requisition Forms, the effort involved in traversing the world is half wasted while in the office premises itself. The heart yearns and the mind craves and the body aches for a world where red tape is just a technique to keep the masses away from murder scenes.

So go forth on your tedious missions, cross the borders which separate the barbarians from the rest of us, dazzle them with your mental faculties and the return with the aura of victory and triumph as city belles fawn over you and vie for your attention. It will be then when we sit and spin our yarn over tumblers of ale."

The overriding fear was this shoddy job of trying to catch up will prevent the good man from investing his talents in my inbox in the future. Till the time of writing of this post, my fears have proved to be well-founded.

PS: I miss IITM and her exceptional inmates.

If only it were so easy...

PS: Oh Google!Why so brilliant? Is there nothing you suck at?

Beware of the Editor: Revisiting Chandrayaan

This video was uploaded on the blog over two and a half years ago. But the sheer excitement of being on television prevented me from commenting on the delightful way the media absorbs information and spits out complete drivel ruining people’s days in the process. Now that the global oil prices have finally stabilized, I can take out some time to elaborate.

In the year 2007 I was the part of the team which was supposed to be blamed for anything which went wrong during Shaastra 2007. One of the highlights of the event was a feature on Chandrayaan with some of the project leaders telling us about how the whole thing would make the moon (and ISRO) look cool again. Thanks to the media interest, we (me, Muski, Parinda & Jimmy) landed ourselves in this short segment on NDTV. We ditched a class and gave a 20 min long discourse to the reporter on various aspects of the whole project and how it was received by the students. I have given below a succinct version of what we actually told and then how irreverent and imbecilic editing made the whole thing resemble a train wreck.

Input

Me: I expressed my wonder that something so complex could actually be so small and compact.

Jimmy: He discussed at considerable length the details of the two talks we had, describing in intricate detail the technological aspects and future implications. He ended it by quoting one of the jokes of the main speaker about how you could even plan a honeymoon on the moon thanks to Chandrayaan.

Muski, Parida: Discussed their learning at length and their pride at being associated with the event.



Output

The video begins with the anchor saying that one of the aims of Chandrayaan would be to explore the possibility of honeymooning on the moon. Any doubts about whether she is joking is removed by the capital lettered tab below, screaming similar sentiments. Well news anchors are known to have an IQ lesser than Pacific plankton. So she can be excused. But the rest of segment was even more depressing.

Sounding like a wife after the wedding night, expressing her deep anguish about the short-comings of her partner, I am heard saying “Its very small. Its not as big as you are expecting it to be”. The sense of appreciation comes across as complete disillusionment with the India space program just because of sizing issues.

Muski barely manages to mention how proud he was before being brutally cut off to focus on an apparently melancholic and suspiciously constipated Parinda who mentions something about polar ice caps with his body language clearly indicating he doesn’t think highly of NDTV. The fact that he had been speaking for quite a while and may have begun drift a bit comes across as total indifference in the few seconds he gets.

But the worst was reserved for dear Jimmy. None of his astute observations on the event made it to the final cut other than his off the cuff remark on honeymoons with his mistimed snigger making it look as if he needs help in reigning in his mental faculties. The fact that they spelt his name Ukala, leaving out the all important N and making him look like a retarded descendent of a Hawaiian musical instrument didn’t help in anyway.

After this sorry excuse of a news report and ruining our carefully crafted reputations by calling us ‘techies’ on screen, we have refused all future NDTV requests for interviews till date.

Chance Pe Dance

Willie S: All the world’s a stage.
Me: Shit.

It’s been some time since I have discussed awkward episodes of my life. A lot of it has got to do with my current vocation. All embarrassing incidents at the workplace cannot be discussed thanks to the confidentiality agreement signed at the beginning. I can’t even name the company I work for but its name incidentally rhymes with hell and often confused with the Indian steel maker SAIL. But then chances of anything of interest happening while I ponder over the material selection for a sulphur recovery unit somewhere in the wilderness of Western Australia is remote. Very remote. While my fervent opponents in the Meta-Mafia feel working as a materials engineer specializing in corrosion solutions automatically qualifies me for public humiliation, I have passionately defended my profession. But I digress.

People have often asked me whether I like being on stage (very few actually did). And I always tell them what I told the person who first asked this question. No. My affair with the stage begins long back. June of 1991 to be precise. I had just joined Don Bosco as a brash, cheeky brat fresh out of kindergarten. I held a lot of promise and the world was there to be conquered. I was appointed the class monitor in my first week and as expected at such an age, I drunk on raw power began feeling I was capable of anything. Incidentally I was not and was soon going to find that out.

The annual dance competition used to be among the first events in the scholastic calendar. Within a few weeks of me joining there was an announcement in class asking for people who would be interested in participating. Without going into hours long deliberations before taking a decision like I do now, I immediately signed on for it, much to my eternal regret. Being God’s greatest gift to the human race, I felt that shaking a leg would be like a walk in a very boring park. Like any busy six year old with a corporate mindset, I immediately forgot about the fact that I had signed up for a dance competition once I had signed up. So the days which should have been spent in preparing for my hair-brained initiative was frittered away disputing umpire decisions and running fellow batsmen out on the school playground. So the dreaded day arrived and I was blissfully unaware of the impending humiliation. I was so ignorant that I actually entered the great school hall and joined my boisterous group of friends in the audience and was looking forward to heckling the participants. It was when a voice back-stage announced in a booming tone that the next performer is Sayan Ganguly when it struck me. I was on the wrong side of the stage. The heckler was about to become the hecklee. I was transfixed not knowing what to do as my friends pushed me out of the hall and urged me to run to the back stage. I reach the green room afraid, very afraid about what was about to happen.

All participants were expected to bring their respective costumes and their music tracks to which they were supposed to jive to. I of course had none. It seemed that this was a common occurrence and the organizers had default dance tracks to be played when irresponsible asses like me screwed up. Unfortunately the default costumes consisted of only losing the school tie and suddenly there I was on the stage with the curtains about to go up and a sad dance track beginning to play. I don’t remember which track it was but it certainly had never been on any kind of top 1000 songs of the year lists in any country (even Germany). I closed my eyes and said a short prayer and opened my eyes to discover that my prayer was not answered. I was still on stage and the crisis further accentuated by the second as the curtain went up. That was the moment I realized that my school housed quite a large number of students, all of whom happened to be in the hall. My prevalent reputation of being a trail blazing iconoclast induced an unusually keen interest in their eyes. Most of them felt that they were about to view something different. The delayed start had heightened their expectations. Didn’t all famous shows start a bit late, they told themselves.

Meanwhile the dance track had begun, unnoticed by me. It was a non-descript tune with an irreverent mish-mash of beats generally leading to nowhere, somewhat like my imminent dance steps. The crowd was quick to notice that things didn’t look the way supposed to be. I think me being in the school uniform sans the tie with a sorry excuse for a dance track in the background raised suspicions that Superman was about to be out-witted by a devilish Luthorian plot. Transfixed by the million stares, I could only stare back. It was a classic ‘deer in the head-lights’ moment, with the headlights being of half of the Siliguri traffic. Somewhere in the middle of all this, my left foot had started doing a tap while my other left foot was trying to match step for step. The human nervous system has its own mysterious response mechanisms to nervous situations as I was discovering.

Trying to pass off the involuntary tapping as a start to a new form of revolutionary dance, I decided to attempt an arms swing. It was ill-advised to say the least. It looked like I was trying to give a visual explanation of what a sine wave superimposed on a cosine wave may look like but had got confused about the origin and frame of reference. My stock in front of the crowd was plummeting faster than Satyam’s did in January 2009. I realized that something radical had to be tried to turn the tide. So I started turning in circles. Maybe in some parts of the world, turning in needless circles with arms flaying accompanied with involuntary foot taps qualify as sophisticated dance forms, but my fellow school mates didn’t come from those parts. It was a common tradition in this competition to down the curtains in case an act was going haywire. My performance was reaching that qualification with blinding speed. The pointless circling proved to be too much for my cerebellum and it finally gave up on trying maintaining any semblance of balance and I tottered like Pyotr Arsenievich Smirnov did after celebrating the establishing of his first distillery. The crowd remained hypnotized by the continuously unfolding terror in front of them. Had this happened a decade later, Al Qaida may have claimed responsibility in view of the sheer terror quotient involved. Curiosity turned to dismay which rapidly evolved into revulsion followed soon after by uncontrolled laughter.

As a final attempt to salvage some pride, I decided to explore whether moving about the stage may help the situation. I naively thought that the damage caused by writhing hysterically rooted to one spot could perhaps be undone by wriggling about all over the stage. Unfortunately my sudden movement was interpreted by the audience as the much-awaited conclusion and the hall burst out pre-maturely in tremendous applause. My six-year old brain was perceptive enough to make me understand that the applause was less about appreciation and had more to do with relief. The back-stage manager took the applause as the final cue that the curtains just had to be downed before a mass exodus of the audience, did his job to perfection and in a matter of seconds I was back to staring at the back of the red curtain.

A little voice inside told me that perhaps if I had a couple of minutes more, I could have turned the situation on its head and left the stage after an astounding performance. All the initial steps and supposed missteps would finally been seen as small cogs in the bigger wheel of a divine performance. But a second later that notion sounded so stupid that I bludgeoned the small voice to pulp and it hasn’t spoken up since. As I drudged back after the longest three minutes of my life, the teachers backstage glared at me as if I had made a pass at their mothers. I quietly took my tie and slipped out.

I refrained from entering the hall gain in fear of being mobbed or worse made to do a repeat of the performance for the seniors. Feeling like Bangaru Laxman after being outfoxed by Tehelka, lying low seemed a wonderfully refreshing idea and I proceeded to do exactly that in the second floor corridor. After the whole event was over, I quietly slipped out of school. But my friends, knowing my slimy ways, were waiting to accost me. What they said and the humiliation I underwent the following weeks in school is best left unsaid. Some memories are best left to private blog entries where only I and my alter-egos can read them.

This incident laid the foundation of all my future ill-fated flirtations with the stage. I will talk about them in the follow-up articles soon. But as my record with previously promised follow-up articles goes, it may be pretty surprising if I do end up recounting how I mortified audiences over the ages with my dextrous acting/singing skills (yes, I have dared to sing too). I never danced again though. Who knows, perhaps if I had performed well that day, I might have been the one facing the brickbats instead of Shahid for the horrendous Chance Pe Dance today. And all you ladies, who have asked me out so many times in the past only to get a resounding no, don’t doubt my orientation. It’s only because I am afraid that at some point in the evening, you may ask me to dance.

2009 AD: What a waste.

As my flight made a sudden lift and barely avoided ramming into another plane on the runway while landing today, I got a bit jittery. This propensity of near misses, each bearing an eerie similarity to something out of an upcoming Final Destination sequence, is getting a tad painful. To be blunt, I am not enjoying almost getting killed anymore. So as the proverbial flashing past of life happened during those vital minutes when it seemed that all was lost, I got thinking. While I grudgingly admit that the overpowering thought was about what would happen to all the money people owed me in case I kicked the bucket, I also looked back on 2009. And they were not what one would call, pleasant thoughts.

What a disappointing year this has been. Nothing impressive achieved, not even thought about or even attempted. Its just been one expensive over-rated dinner after another, irreverent staring at walls, lifting weights and dropping them, comparing different newspapers, strategizing daily beverage intake, making excuses, mocking, evil financial plotting, waiting for downloads to happen and standing in long lines. I paid a heavy price for hubris, messed up great opportunities and whined uncontrollably. I have sunk to such lows that I have begun to like green tea and Orkut. The last straw was when I felt like watching Friends again.

What a bad year. Anyway, lessons have been learnt. Or so I hope. I will go back to doing what I do best and leave mature things to mature people. 2010, be kind to me.

Seasons greetings everybody. Wishing you the very best, and whatever.

The Conversation

I am back. A long hiatus, I admit. Many things have happened since my last discourse on placements. I visited a steel plant, pulled off unbelievable capers, failed at my most ambitious effort, swam, caught a Maoist, worshipped Larry David, defended my thesis against evil, took crucial signatures, made stupid promises, kept stupid promises, bragged, showed bite marks, lost weight, gained weight, fought, made up, made out, simulated Sach Ka Samna, feel ill at the worst possible night, met Bangalore, liked Bangalore, took up plumbing, rugby, archery and of course broke the forty second barrier. So yes, lots of things have changed. But some things remain the same. Obama still holds promise, Stewart still rocks and vegetarians still need to be guillotined.

The motivation to write again was lurking somewhere behind the nearest KFC when an email hastened my return to the blogosphere. This post is just a representation of a GTalk chat between two IITM alumni. The context has been explained by the victim in his own words. It is an exact lift and there have been no omissions or modifications. Of course all proper nouns have been changed to protect identity.

Main Characters:
Victim: Hamburger
Predator: Old_Monk

Hamburger’s opening monologue.

Prior to reading the following conversation, you need to know this conversation history. Basically the legendary Old Monk buzzed me, asking if I could provide contacts of companies for him to intern at. He asked about firms like Link Equality etc. So I told him that I know this guy BS who interned there. I told Old_Monk that I'll find out from BS and get back to him. The following conversation is what happened thereafter. Enjoy!

Hamburger: hey BS just mailed me. Asked me to give u this email id:Blahblah@yahoo.com. The guy's name is Blahblah and he's an analyst at Link equality

Old_Monk: ok, nice that you informed him prior. I shall refer you as Hamburger, right?

Hamburger: If required u can say that u got the email id from Bhawani Shankar. I dont know this guy Blah Blah!! Reference Bhawani Shankar. Bhawani is BS. He interned at Link equality after 3rd year. clear?

Old_Monk: Ok. That is far fetched. I shall tell what I understood. Bhawani alias BS interned in link equality after third year. But you don’t know him directly. But you know Bhawani Shankar who knows BS. Am i right?

Hamburger: Bhawani shankar is Bhawani is BS!

Old_Monk: So you know him directly, he only contacted you just now, right?

Hamburger: Yup. I know Bhawani Shankar, he was my wingmate, and he interned at Link Equality

Old_Monk: So when mailing him , I can refer your name, right?

Hamburger: My god!!!! Refer to Bhawani Shankar!!!!

Old_Monk: I shall call you I guess. Too confusing. Else you tell full story over here. I shall remain silent.

Hamburger: U got the mail id from Bhawani Shankar, and Bhawani Shankar interned at Link Equality! How difficult is that!

Old_Monk: Mail id of Bhawani Shankar from you. right?

Hamburger: DUDE!!!!!!!!! Why bother about Bhawani Shankar! You mail Blahblah ( blahblah@yahoo.com) saying that u got his email id from Bhawani Shankar who had interned in Link Equality!

Old_Monk: If I mail to Bhawani Shankar, what should I tell him on wherei got his ID from? But who is Blahblah?

Hamburger: U genius!!!! how will u mail Bhawani Shankar???? I never gave u his email id!

Old_Monk: ok, who is this Blahblah?

Hamburger: Dude!!!! He is the guy working at Link Equality man!!! Wake up!

Old_Monk: ok. I underwear**. What is Bhawani doing? I need not mail my resume, right, just a formal mail asking whether they are interested. Right?

Hamburger: That is upto u. I have no clue. See I know nothing abt Link Equality and all.....
*The End*

** Why Old_Monk said underwear remains a point of intense debate among international GTalk specialists. Some say he meant understand while another school of thought feels he meant underwear. But they all agree that it doesn’t matter.

A Vital Question.

You know IIT placements have taken a hit when you read this.
Even the Diro is out of a job.

But the vital question everybody has not thought of yet is…
Does that make Ananth eligible to sit for placements?
Will he have to pay Rs 1000 to register or will he get a director's discount?
Mr Garg’s job gets a wee bit tougher then.

Extrapolating with some freedom, shouldn’t faculty be allowed to sit for placements too?
I am so eager to see what Parmanand Singh would be short-listed for.

This is the last post for 2008. Happy New Year to all.
Sources close to me have confided that this new years’ eve may be interesting. Very interesting. *Diabolical laughter*

We Indians bargain well.....

You know how insulated you have become from real life after experiences as these. After an agonizingly busy morning of waking up and pressing the snooze button on my cell, I had my usual lunch of fish and some more fish followed by some fish. Then after bringing the balance of nature back to the local marine life, I noticed that there were no oranges. I usually have oranges after lunch in the winter and now there were no oranges. I decided to solve this problem in the conventional manner. I decided to buy some.

‘40 rupees a dozen’, the vendor mumbled.
‘hah! 40! Are you crazy? Where do you think I am from? Chennai? Local chele aami. I will take 6 pieces and wont pay a paise more than 20Rs’, I craftily mentioned.

He looked at me with an expressionless stare, picked up 6 oranges, put it in a bag and gave it to me.

I gave him Rs 20. Left with a smirk. And then it hit me.

PS: No observation on my mathematical prowess will be tolerated. That has nothing to do with this.

Getting Noticed!

While my friends have complained that my articles of late have been a tad too serious, there has been an unforeseen windfall. The last two articles have been picked up and linked to in other websites. While they may not be some influential journals but then its a good start none the less.

http://www.topix.com/city/orlando-fl/2008/11/state-by-state-info-declare-yourself : The link on Barack Obama connects to my Obama article.

http://www.youthforequality.com/interact-with-us/view-user-posted-article.aspx : Links to my article on reservation.

Yippee!

Only in America- The Impossible Story of Barack Obama

The following was my submission to the November issue of the Filter Copy.

“America is too great for small dreams”-Ronald Reagan

As a country America continues to inspire and confound the global community. After eight years of Bush’s de-facto war on anything Islamic and irresponsible economic policies, America might just elect a young black man as their next president whose middle name happens to be Hussein. The global community does not ask whether Barack Obama will be the next president of USA. Rather everyone asks whether USA will let Obama become president as if when we keep prejudices aside, the presidency is Obama’s birthright. Never since the Kennedy campaign has any individual energized the American population in such a manner and the impossible- America regaining the respect and credibility it had before Bush- looks a distinct if not a sure possibility in event of an Obama presidency.

It all started in 2004 at the annointation of John Kerry in the Democratic National Convention. A relatively unknown junior senator from the state of Illinois was asked to deliver the key-note address. The oratory, charisma and style displayed by Barack almost shifted focus from Kerry himself. Political pundits and observers, who were already cynical about the stumbling Kerry campaign, proclaimed Obama as the new boy wonder and predicted a great future. No one then expected him to clinch the nomination just four years later. It would have been just too early. And of course Hillary Clinton’s name had already started doing the rounds for 2008 and a black first time senator stopping the Clinton juggernaut was too farcical to even imagine. But the die had been cast a bit before 2004. In 2003 when Bush laid his plans to attack Iraq before the country, the populace was sharply divided and in retrospect Obama chose the right side. Hillary supported it. McCain vociferously supported it. Obama did not. This foresight put Obama and his sense of judgment several notches above all other more qualified candidates and proved to be his primary way of distinguishing himself from the rest four years later.

Obama is not the first black politician who gained prominence on the national stage and nor is he the first one with sights on the White House. In recent years Rev Jesse Jackson and Rev Al Sharpton have tried and lost. Colin Powell fiddled with the idea before accepting the Secretary of State carrot. And there have been a half a dozen other before them. But Obama’s candidacy has been very different from all previous one for he has successfully avoided the death trap of all black leaders- being type cast as a leader of the African-Americans. Obama ensured that none of his actions or efforts would be painted as being community specific. He went out of his way to court the whites and the Hispanics and chided any voice from within his own community who asked him to focus his attention only on his people. Speeches where he literally scolded black fathers for not being responsible enough about their parental duties may have made him seem patronizing but brought him closer to the whites who felt that there was no bias or any sense of historical prejudice in him. Obama never came across as one out to right the wrongs of the past on behalf of his community.

The biggest asset which caused Obama’s meteoric rise is his oratory. In a short span of 5-6 years Obama has left behind himself a slew of tremendous speeches which will continue to inspire generations. Whether it’s his key-note address in 2004 or his candidacy proclamation on the historic steps of the Old State Capitol in Springfield, he has held his audience in total rapture by his deft use of words and statesman like body language. He has made a habit of coming out of very tight spots with speeches of remarkable clarity, honesty and forthrightness. Let’s take the Jeremiah Wright issue as an example. In the middle of his historic fight with Hillary Clinton, videos of his pastor Jeremiah Wright surfaced condemning America and her policies. The event had all the ingredients to ensure an early end to Obama’s campaign. Here was a black pastor denouncing the country and the whites and Barack didn’t even utter a single word of condemnation. Showing amazing boldness, Obama refused to condemn the man and in turn came out with one of the most unforgettable speeches in recent American history. He dealt with the race relations in the US and how he views it through the prism of his unique background of having a white mother and a black father.
Obama’s fight for the democratic nomination was a much more complex and difficult affair than his current run for presidency. Hillary Clinton had been fashioning herself as the next president of the United States for quite a while. Here actions since becoming a senator all indicated where her ambitions lay. And the democrats were not sad about it. In the middle of the horrendous Bush years, the Clinton brand rose in its net worth. Democrats repeatedly got nostalgic about the prosperous Clinton years and were getting ready to nominate Hillary even if it meant Bill Clinton would wield powers again but by proxy. Quite a few expected Obama to run too. But it was supposed to be a dry run for a more serious attempt four years later. After all he had spent just four years in the senate and was the least experienced when compared to the seven other candidates. So when he announced his candidacy at the very place Abraham Lincoln had given his ‘House Divided’ speech, he had started out as the classic underdog.

The initial arrogance of the Clinton campaign helped Obama to quietly put his plan his place. He was already very popular among the democratic voters for his unique background and ability to inspire. He publicly refused to take donations from any lobbyists and interests groups and said his campaign would run only on the generosity of the individual donors. This unprecedented step endeared Obama towards the middle class in particular and the money flowed in. Just on the basis of very small amounts from individual donors Obama managed to raise 35m dollars in his first month. For the record that juggernaut had continued to roll since then and he raised 150m dollars last month, a record. A steady source of money proved to be a big boon for the campaign and it also gave early indications that people were considering Obama more seriously as president than the experts would like to believe. 2007 saw one debate after another among all the candidates. Obama held his own in all of them but made no significant dent in Hillary’s popularity. National polls showed Hillary with a seemingly unbeatable lead over Obama. The main issues hampering Obama were the facts that he was less experienced and absolutely no one believed that in spite of his popularity he could ever stop the Clinton monster truck. Then Iowa happened.
The Iowa caucus was the first event in the Democratic primaries and it happened on 3rd January, 2008. Obama scored an emphatic win, followed by John Edwards with Hillary a poor third. These results changed the course of the whole race. The Obama campaign proudly proclaimed that they had proved everyone wrong by actually showing that they can win and that too in such a resounding manner. Somehow the fact that Obama can win projected him in a very different light. All this while he was this brilliant leader who could sway the masses but was not equipped to stop much more formidable and experienced opponents. That myth lay in pieces and the nation rallied behind him in an instant. His numbers started climbing in the national polls and was within striking distance of Hillary. The Clinton campaign, rattled by Iowa finally realized the brilliance of Obama’s grassroots tactics and how he had reached out to so many people in such an effective manner.

Then started the most fascinating primary race USA had ever seen. It was undoubtedly more gripping than the eventual presidential race itself as Obama clinched one victory after another with Clinton barely managing to keep up. The Clinton campaign kept claiming that on Super Tuesday when 22 states would have their primaries together, Hillary would wrap up the nomination belying any initial gain made by Obama. But that didn’t happen. Obama’s new found ability to win propelled him to surpass Clinton on Super Tuesday too. This was the last straw and from then on it was just a count till when Clinton would feel it is no longer possible to clinch the nomination. Sensing the sudden change in fortunes, noted democrats made a beeline for Obama leaving Clinton further in the lurch.

The presidential race have seen a much more mellow and cautious Obama. The race has since been more characterized by the McCain campaigns gaffes and Sarah Palin’s comedic rhetoric than anything else. Obama’s conduct and campaign has been so proper that the infamous Republican propaganda campaign could find absolutely nothing from his history to attack him with. In all the three debates with McCain he came out as a calm, collected and person keen on bridging divisions. He refuted his own liberal credentials by adopting a more central path on key issues like gun control, abortion and gay rights hency by ensuring the conservatives do not fear his presidency. Obama’s performance as a first time senator may not have been amazing but he was always found at the right place at the right time. Whether it is framing bills on climate change and nuclear terrorism or supporting checks on federal spending, he had smartly positioned himself as a leader with a sense of acute awareness of all the important issues. He has also managed to successfully dent McCain’s foreign policy and security credentials by insisting repeatedly that security will always be top priority for him and by crafting bills for the welfare of the armed forces.

The story of Barack Obama has been fascinating and that made him a darling of the press. The media had a good hand in creating the perception of Obama as a new-age prophet who has come to rescue the country from a terrible morass of insecurity and economic downturn. If current national polls are anything to go by Obama should cruise to a comfortable victory. The world is waiting with bated breath for the results of this extraordinary election and is wondering whether America can yet again prove to the world that it continues to be the land of opportunity in spite of being on the brink of losing its sole super power status. Barack Obama knows that a story like his is possible only in the United States and does not shy away from reiterating it again and again. His ways of reaching out to all sections and striving for unity has involved the whole population in a political process they had begun to lose faith in. No one is expecting dramatic changes in their lives and neither does Obama’s record as a senator show him as one who would change things forever. But people do believe Obama is the only one in the current vitiated atmosphere who can try and brig the USA back to a standing it enjoyed in the pre-Bush years.

Why so reckless?

My submission to The Filter Copy, September 2008

“It is legal because I wish it”-Louis XIV.

India seems to be the place where good ideas come to die. The recent progress in the systematic dismantling of India's premier educational institutions proves that however good an idea might be, the Indian government will eventually ensure its demise. Even if that idea is heralded as one of the greatest ever achievements of modern India.

The fifties saw our country making tremendous strides in virtually every field in spite of a chronic shortage of resources, virtually absent infrastructure and abject poverty. India showed the world that self-belief and an audacity to hope was enough to turn tables overnight. West Germany, Singapore, Japan, all ravaged by the war adopted our no holds barred march towards progress inspite of being reduced to near extinction as nation states. Fifty years later we see ourselves left significantly behind. But yet, we had still a few symbols of that ebullient decade which continued to inspire the nation of the potential within. The IITs occupy the highest pedestal in that short list of symbols.

The motives and intentions behind the creation of the IITs are well documented. The achievements of its eventual alumni even more so. They became the shining examples of a society which showed the world that this is how they train their best. It took decades of churning out top-notch professionals before the IITs became a synonym for excellence. And now that they enjoy such prestige on this planet, the Indian government, headed ironically by a distinguished academic, decided that maybe the time has come when they extinguish the last beacon of excellence in Indian Higher Education.

It has been a three pronged approach by the venerable HRD minister. The increase in reservation for students, the opening of a host of new IITs and of course ordering reservation in faculty positions. Bringing social equality has been the official reason. I won’t delve into the widely discussed issue of OBC reservation for students. The other two decisions, I feel have done more damage to the IIT brand.

Let’s begin with the opening of new IITs. Decision to open more premiers engineering institutions. Excellent. Calling them IITs. Short-sightedness. The concept of Brand Dilution may not make sense to the babus of Shaastri Bhawan but it does mean something in the rest of the world. We do not have twelve Stanfords, fifteen Oxfords or twenty two ETHs. The argument is if we have more IITs then we will have more IITians and hence by more hyper intelligent engineers! But IITs don't make people clever. They just provide the finishing touches to people who are already very smart. And I don't know whether people have noticed but we as a race have always faced a shortage of smart people. By having a few more buildings, we won’t end raising the IQ of the people occupying them. It does not work that way, Mr. Singh.

For some reason elitist has become a bad word in this country. Anyone who opposed calling the new institutes IITs are called elitists who want to prevent others from enjoying the facilities of an IIT. Yes, IITs are elitist. That’s because they were meant to be. The irreproducible campus culture would not have been possible if they allowed anybody in. If MIT allowed ten times the people in, would it have remained an attractive option as it is now? Is being the very best something to be looked down upon? Is propagating mediocrity the way ahead? Rather providing the new institutes with the same facilities but a different name would help in creating a new brand altogether which would build its own reputation over time. The gestation period for these new IITs will be quite a few years and in all probability the students passing out would not help in building the IIT brand further.

And will someone please pay attention to the problems faced by the current IITs before establishing half a dozen more? There is a massive crunch in faculty in all the IITs. While the administration is still trying to figure out how to fill the hundreds of vacant posts, we have another 6 adding to the problem. Recruitment of an IIT faculty member is no mean task. The applicants have to go through the strictest of screening procedures before making it as an assistant professor. Makes sense. They are supposed to educate and inspire the brightest set of people. It is difficult for a student to respect his or her teacher, leave alone learn, if the teacher is intellectually deficient and not qualified enough. So where are the teachers going to come from for the new IITs? We know they are not out there waiting. They would have filled up the already vacant posts then. So what is the ingenious plan of the government? My guess is they do not have a plan. You need people who can think when you need a plan and rumors suggest having the capability to think is a criterion for disqualification if you want to work for the HRD ministry.

Let’s come to this tiny issue called infrastructure. Experts believe, but then aren't they always wrong, that to run a world class institute it is a good thing if there are actual classes, labs, machines, hostels present in the campus. When the 'sudden' decision to start enrolment in at least 3 new IITs was taken for the year 2008-09, the IIT admission was taken by surprise. One primary reason was the absence of any form of basic infrastructure at the new venues. Other than the state governments securing the land, they didn't have more than a few old buildings. And as a result the already burdened IITs will have to help incubate one of the new ones. Incubate translates to harboring the students of the new IITs till the actual campus is ready.

IITG began similarly. It had humble beginnings, the reason for its establishment was political but with time it has come up very well. Something similar to the conditions now. But there is a difference between 1994 and 2008. In 1994 the existing IITs were not as plagued by a slew of problems as they are now. And an increase of one to the existing list did not bring Brand Dilution in to the picture. Curiously enough right now a survey of the standard of IITs among students will place IITG at the bottom. So 14 years and huge investments haven't actually brought things at par. This brings us back to the contention that it’s not the facilities and infrastructure of the IITs but the students joining them which is responsible for its pre-eminence. One may increase the number of IITs to a hundred but the number of smart people joining them will remain the same and they will continue to prefer the original five.

Let’s stop for a moment and keep the pessimism aside. If the current administration actually pulls off what the Nehru administration pulled off in the fifties, we all naysayers will look like idiots. Then in a few years we would have over 10 IITs producing brilliant engineers and this decision will be hailed as a masterstroke. So why are be criticizing before the idea has even come to fruition. Is that not blatant negativism and aren't we unconsciously preventing quality education for reaching more people? After giving this notion considerable thought I came to the conclusion that in spite of the possibility of a success, I would not be too hopeful. Why? The reason is this. This government consulted no one, did no preliminary survey, and took no IIT in to confidence before proclaiming this new idea. Already admission to those new IITs has been delayed because of a lack of preparations. So is it reasonable to expect that a government which is so short-sighted while taking a decision will be able to manage to actually execute it? Highly improbable.

Now let’s touch over a more contentious issue. Reservation among faculty positions. Sometimes I wonder what exactly the thought process behind such astounding decisions is. I would give anything to lay my hands on the minutes of the meetings in the HRD Ministry at the end of which they come to conclusions as mentioned above. But something tells me there are no meetings as such or any thought process either. Just a flash in the pan decision to create a flutter in the urban media and buy over specific constituencies which would suit the purposes of the honorable HRD minister.

How does reservation come in to the picture where competence should be the only benchmark is something which has been plaguing the minds for a long time. Has here been any instance where a proficient teacher was not given an opportunity because of his caste? Has there been even a single recorded instance of a professor from a disadvantaged background being sidelined by the administration? Is it viable to sacrifice quality in the name of social up liftment which will effect the minutest of percentages? The answer is not in the affirmative for any of the one above. But in turn it will definitely end up making the faculty slowly become conscious of their identity and before long a sense of division will slowly creep in. A system as proposed will wreck havoc with the academic structure in the IITs. Sample this. In a curriculum heavily dependent on the concept of electives, the strength in the class of a particular faculty member depends on his ability to deliver. Never does a student bother to inquire about his or her background. But a reservation facilitated induction may bring in questions regarding the credibility and aptitude of the individual concerned. So we may actually have brilliant Profs trying to justify their right to be in the institute just because they may be from the weaker sections. The chances of that happening are very remote but if there is even one such case; it would be an indelible blemish on the social fabric of the wonderfully heterogeneous IIT campuses.

Reservations restrict brilliance. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of social engineering. Hence it should be used as a policy not indiscriminately but in specific areas. Our research institutions and defense laboratories have almost 50% reservation and as a result countless posts go unfilled which would otherwise have been taken up by skilled individuals. Unfortunately the achievements of those very institutions leave a lot to be desired. If we want to push the IIT education structure in to the same well, then one would really have to doubt whether the hearts and minds of the country are at the right place. Reservations were incorporated to assimilate various sections. Misuse and overuse has resulted in the opposite. It has created sense of identities where we wanted to dissolve those lines of division.

It is very heartening to see the administration stand up to the government in opposing this draconian step. Inspite of all these regressive steps, it is hope that keeps the chins up in the campus. Hope that the government will realize its follies just at the last moment. Hope that the illustrious alumni will convince the authorities of the perils involved. Hope that the students and the faculty will stand together to uphold the sanctity of the institute. Hope that complete autonomy will be decreed and it will unshackle the IITs from the government’s whims.

Magical Mystery Tour

Yes, I was there.



The Exploration & Production Team (North), Shell Gourami 2008.

30th July, 2008.

11:20 am- 6 :20 pm

One word. Bliss.

Knighted!

This message is issued in public interest.

The call for a revolution under the Iron-man is suspended till further notice.I am sorry Tony.

My views in this post is rendered obsolete due to something which happened in the weekend.

I apologize for my initial naivety.

The Curse of the Blue Agave.

The ring of the phone wakes me up. I get up. The head feels like someone else's. Most probably of the Great Khali. I am wearing my Tshirt. The wrong way. I am wearing my pajamas. The wrong way. My super precious Seiko 21-jewels lay in pieces next to me. My right arm is bruised. My palm punctured by my broken watch. Was I in Mandak? Or Duisburg? Not Siliguri definitely. My thoughts swirled around trying to fix my geographical coordinates. My bunk bed did the trick. Ah, Parmelee. As dazed as a Columbian revolutionary who had his hostages whisked away from under their nose, I carefully climbed down. The phone ring hadn't stopped. Unable to frame coherent sentences, I pick up the phone. There was some good news and some bad news.

The good news was it wasn't mom.
The bad news was it wasn't mom.

Damn Mexicans and their only worthy contribution to the human race.

Three Men on a Boat....of Death.

I have nothing against near death experiences. I have them every four months. As long as they are not too near, I am cool. But I get a little pissed if I am informed in advance that extinction hovered in the vicinity without me being able to do anything about it. Hence the events of last Wednesday left me a little peeved.

Ever since my intern prof mysteriously disappeared and kept in touch through monosyllabic mails, life has been good. In our grief, my lab mate John and me though it would be a good idea if we went fishing Wednesday afternoon. Now when you are fishing in the middle of the week you know your intern has finally taken the right turn. So I readily agreed. So we went off to Douglas lake some miles north of Fort Collins. Offering a soothing view of the Rockies and surrounded by open fields, Douglas lake was the idyllic angler's paradise. When we reached there was just one boat on the lake with the fisherman seemingly asleep. We were to go out on a canoe belonging to John's friend Matt. So it was around 5 in the afternoon when we pushed the tiny canoe into the lake with all of us a little worried about the gathering wind and whether it was a little too strong.

Before things got tough

The next three hours were one of the laziest ever. We slowly rowed around the huge lake enjoying the slowly setting sun. We also happened to catch two huge rainbow trouts too. Now Matt who was pretty good at this told us that its when the sun actually starts setting that we get the best catch. Now during this whole time we had seen not one but two storms slowly approaching from the west and the east. As the whole area was completely open, we could see brilliant flashes of lightning regularly striking somewhere on the western and eastern horizons. By eight when the sun was finally setting both the storms had finally drifted our side. But we were oblivious to the whole thing, excited as we were by the impending deluge of aquatic creatures. As we were admiring a rainbow very close to the shore, a bolt of lightning struck pretty close to where we were. Never a big fan of things which doesn't give me at least a minute to prepare for it, I nonchalantly asked Matt what were the chances of us getting struck by a bolt or two. Both Matt and John laughed and said they have lived in Colorado long enough to know when to be wary of a thunderstorm. I went back to my fishing rod. It started drizzling. Just two minutes later Matt shouted, “get down! Go low!”. Now when one is in the middle of the lake, it is difficult to imagine what we should get low from. Flying fishes? Bullets from the near-by shooting range? I confess I was confused with Matt's exclamations. I looked back to see an equally confused John. We both looked towards Matt who was now lying down at the canoe floor. He whispered, “ I felt static. A lot of it. Didn't you guys hear it?” Simultaneously we noticed his hair were standing kind of erect. Now those of you with a scientific bent of mend will appreciate this. We know that we sometimes get signs where lightning is about to strike. Hair standing on our head, feeling a lot of static energy around you etc etc. Oh wait, thats a coincidence! It took me ten seconds to realize that Uncle Yamraj was near. Another ten seconds of reflection confirmed why. All three of us had these upmarket graphite reinforced fishing rods. Now as luck would have it, graphite conducts electricity pretty well. (Where is a diamond fishing rod when you need one!) So there we were, three idiots, in the middle of a huge lake, during a thunderstorm, pointing three perfect conductors towards the sky. What could possibly go wrong?

Now getting struck by lightning is fine. But being informed a few moments before that you are going to be struck by lightning, is a very different affair indeed. I am sure all of you know that feeling of imminent vaporization. I felt like that piece of sodium which the eight grade chemistry teacher shows around to the class before plunging it in water. The phrase 'sitting ducks' was never more clear to me. Though one part of felt maybe the strike would end up giving me supernatural powers and I could be the next character in Heroes. The worst part was no one knew I was fishing that afternoon. I would undergo a change of state and no one would ever know of it. And even if I survived I would still be in the middle of the damn lake.

That very moment, a bolt of lightning struck right near the shore. Simultaneously our boat swayed sharply to the left. Matt's fishing line was being pulled strongly and it was evident that in the middle of all this melee, we had just caught our biggest fish. Matt, now presented with this conundrum of rowing for his life or getting hold of his fishing line took a quick decision. He chose fish over life. He pulled with all his might and drew the fish close. But then tragedy struck again, the fish turned out to be a huge trout which unnerved Matt further and he let go of the line for a few seconds which was enough for the fish to make its escape. So now we didn't have the fish either and gazillions of electrons could hit us any moment. First thing we did was to stop pointing our fishing rods out and get our wooden oars out. Then the next ten minutes would have done any Onam boatman proud.

On the run

We made it to the shore without getting zapped and packed up the boat in record time and made our way out of there. And we lived to fish another day. Most probably this Wednesday again.

The days final tally

This post is dedicated to Roy Sullivan who survived after being struck by lightning seven times during his career as a park ranger. He finally died after he shot himself over a failed love affair. So the moral of the whole story is you have a better chance with 7 lightning strikes than a woman. May Roy rest in peace. There is another school of thought who believes that a man who could handle seven lightnings but not a woman deserved to die anyway. The reader is free to choose their side.

Changing Loyalties: The Rise of Meta

This is my second post on Meta in 2 months but I have to do it as the new Meta-evangelist. This post might create sharp divisions in the engineering community. If the reader is offended, I am sorry. It was meant to be divisive.

“The hand that rocks the cradle of molten metal, rules the world”- Recent Chinese Proverb.

Summers are good. Not just because I get a chance to continent hop and taste the best ale ever made. Summers mean the time for Hollywood blockbusters. Somehow the best and most hyped movies always get released in the summer. And the ones which win the Oscar, in winter.

Last year's memorable summer was made overtly memorable with Ocean's 13, Die Hard 4, POTC 3, Spiderman 3 and so on. Can anyone forget John Mclain ramming his car into the helicopter at the end of the tunnel. Or Keith Richards playing Papa Sparrow. So when I saw this years line-up I was pretty impressed. Indi was coming back but without his dad. We were being asked not mess with the Zohan. The Guru of Love promised to solve all our problems. A panda was supposed to master the most complex of martial arts. Maxwell Smart showed he is in control. Hancock pissed us off with his attitude. The Joker promised to put a smile on our face. The Hulk was back. A bit greener and definitely more incredible. And of course Tony Stark asked us why we cant have both fear and respect.

But this is not a review of movies. This post is about a declaration. I have finally decided to change loyalties. Let me explain. Of all the comic book super heroes, I always accorded Batman the greatest of respect. He was the one who didn't have any special powers and yet was so cool. And he always got to fight with the best villains. Not even Clooney's disastrous rubber uniform put me off the dark knight. So when Batman Begins showed the world how superhero movies should be made, I had had a satisfied smile on my face. Needless to say the biggest thing this summer for me was the epic battle scheduled between the knight and the Joker. But then suddenly, a certain thing happened. I met Tony Stark.

Now before I go ahead about Tony, let me talk about the metallurgical aspect of the post. Its of course a well known fact that we metallurgists have been discriminated against through ages. We are like the Jews of the engineering world. In spite of having ages (Iron, bronze, etc) named after our creations, we are never accorded the same respect as say, those insignificant chemical engineers. Have any of you heard of any thing called Age of Transport Phenomenon in history? Well, I haven't. Of course we meta boys are waiting patiently for our time. Its not long before the revolution comes when we and the ship builders (Nav-Arc boys, are you listening?) will once gain take over the world. And all non-believers and heretics will head for the blast furnace. Among the Mech community, we will spare only Pota as he knows more meta than all of us combined.

So when I met Tony I realized the revolution is near. Over many decades we metallurgists have always been portrayed as screen villains. Magneto, Metal Sonic, Blacksmith, Dr Alchemy, Composite Superman, Kryptonite man, Metallo, an array of superbly crafted robots with a taste for fine alloys, the list is endless. Just like the stereotyped cunning Jew of of the eighteenth century, we metallurgists have always been shown as connivingly altering carbon concentrations and modifying microstructures and preparing for the world' destruction. So when Tony nonchalantly said,'Yes, I can fly', I realized a historic wrong had finally been corrected. The world finally got her first metallurgist Superhero. On film.

After watching Ironman, I, with a heavy heart, decided its a time for a change. I had to shift form the camp of the Dark knight and become a loyal Ironsmith. He would lead the revolution. He was The One. He had even solved the icing problem which had been bothering us for centuries. While ideally I belong to the Magneto school of thought, I feel this moment belongs to us and we metallurgists cannot be divided on the basis of ideology. So I give out a call to all my brethren. Lets unite under Tony and get back what always belonged to us. The earth for instance. Lets again have ages named after our creations. If you want this decade to be called the Age of 3016 SS, this is our chance.

And as for the rest of you, join us while you can. And those who don't, the remember the furnace is just getting warmed up.

Try Believing This.

Date: 15th June
Time: Sometime in the afternoon
Place: Pine View Falls, Poudre River, Colorado

People screaming: Sayan,Shantanu,Abhay,Narayan,Vikram.
People not screaming: Melissa, the guide.