Champaign diary#1

I was standing at Customs in IGIA…..my suitcase relaxing in the aircraft’s belly. The officer looked at me, scrutinizing and trying to find similarities with the photo on the passport(The pic is almost 8 years old, pink chubby cheeks and all, he was bound to be surprised) . Relax dude….I am from your country , I felt like saying. The flight was pretty long, with no stoppage at Frankfurt or London like the good old days. To add to that, the seat besides me was empty, which of course is a nice thing from comfort point of view but keeping quiet for 15 hours was something new. An aunty sat with me for sometime. I have this talent of hitting off immediately with middle aged women. She was an English teacher in DPS RKP who asked a lot of questions. Why are you going there? Where do you study? Oooooo….you are the IIT category..nice nice. We in general discussed the CBSE curriculum, high school education system blah blah. Meanwhile, I saw her alpha male getting red with fury. Is my charm a gift or curse?
The flight landed on time, exactly 5:15 am at O’Hare Airport, Chicago. Flight to Champaign was to leave at 11 o’clock, which left me plenty of time to wander around. I went outside the terminal building to look for cigarettes. I asked a guy as to where can I find them. He didn’t have a clue, but offered me one of his own. God bless him ! Then went on to look for a telephone card to call mom and inform her that I am okay and in good health.
Champaign reminded me of some place familiar, where I spend 8 months of my life every year…..yaa….kgp. It is a university town, with nothing much except that. Chicago plays the role of Cal, being just 2 hours away. But of course it is devoid of any dirt, bad roads, places like cheddis(sad huh) etc. It is like those small American towns, with green avenues, wooden houses and country music that we see in movies so often. I dumped my luggage in the apartment, met the roomies, and since it was like a long weekend, decided to go to Chicago. The railway station was at a walking distance and there wasn’t a soul there. The reservation counter was empty, and when the dude arrived, he seemed elated...like seeing someone after a very longtime. The train was as expected vacant, with more staff than passengers.
After disembarking from the Union Station, I took a cab for my uncle’s place in downtown. Usual queries about the flight, time of stay were asked and replied to immediately. It seemed like a recorded message. After freshening up, my next stop was somewhere in downtown where I saw a red double Decker open bus. I don’t remember the exact location as the bus was sufficient to divert my attention. I took one of those city tours, full of Chinese tourists with digital cameras. We saw many famous houses, mainly those of Oprah Winfrey, Michael Jordan etc. Oprah’s house seemed out of place being a bungalow amidst high rises…..portraying her image as someone who is down to earth and sensitive. Bullshit !!! She lives in a huge penthouse on top of a 100 storey skyscraper!! Another great thing to see was the old office of Al Capone.
Downtown Chicago is like the opening statement of modern architecture(gotta thank MB for that funda). Everything from neo-gothic to slick glass and steel showcased itself. The most wonderful place was surely Lakeshore drive. Lake Michigan on one side, with luxury yachts and tons of greenery. Enough of tourism….I sound like a guide !!
I also went on top of the Sears tower and heard all its praises like how it “used to be” the tallest building in the world and still in one category out of four, it IS the tallest building etc etc. Be happy guys....it still is pretty TALL :) The top was disappointing because they had a stupid gallery surrounded with glass instead of the open thing. After all that, and a lot more, I went back to Champaign to finally get started.
Roomies were nice…pretty and helpful (I wanted to write “pretty helpful” but after adding the “and” by mistake….it still is a true statement :P). My abode was all stripped down with nothing besides a futon frame, but there was a slick attached bathroom, so considering the hierarchy of spaces in terms of importance, I didn’t complain. On May 28th, I went to meet my prof. Now this guy looked cool, wearing three quarters and moving around on a cycle. He showed me the lab and introduced me to everyone. He then started discussing what I was supposed to work on with another guy. Tricky questions followed:

“What do you plan to achieve out of your stay here Nihkill ?”
“Have you worked on energy simulation programs before?”

I gave some middle of the road general replies, and they concluded that I should start learning TRACE 700, an energy simulation program with the help of a 400 page manual. Hence, my future was decided :D
The program was interesting and I used to get breaks from it when Ben(my boss) gave some other work like preparing spreadsheets or streamlining electrical, water supply data to plot graphs. After office, I went to the downtown in order to try a new restaurant every day. On the third day, I went to this place called “The Bombay Grill” to get some Indian food. But this place served the stereotypical crap, with loads of butter,curry and every gora asking just one thing,”1 chicken tika masala please" :) A chaotic incident took place at McDonalds the day after. Now guys I am a shudh shakahari. I have alwways been...untempted to jump on the other side. Hence I looked at the menu and ordered the safe sounding Double Cheeseburger. I concluded that if they have mentioned a minor ingredient like cheese, surely cheese is THE only thing it has. After having ¾ th of it, I just looked at the covering paper which said “100 % pure beef I’M LOVIN IT!”. What a smashing debut !! This can more or less sum up my first few days here.

dreams

I like to dream. They make my nights eventful. It is like a television is switched ON while you slowly doze off. You acknowledge the sounds but rarely try to make anything out of them. Dreams have often led to interesting conversations with my friends in kgp. They go along excellently with things like cigarettes and tea, which are abundant there. I am very sure I was dreaming that morning when mom woke me up. I can't remember what, but it was something pleasant. I was smiling while opening my eyes. It went away immediately. My grandfather had collapsed on the breakfast table. We laid him on my bed....his eyes still open. The doctor was called. After couple of injections, thumping of chest, ECG scans........he announced that he was no more. My grandfather was not doing well for the past couple of years. He was 82 and every problem that comes with old age were bothering him. To be honest, I wasn't very saddened by his death. Ever since his health deteriorated, he had become indifferent towards everyone around him, and so had I. My relationship with him was like that of an old friend, with whom I had lost touch. I only met him when my mother told me to. Once in his room, I wanted to leave as soon as possible due to the sheer lack of conversation. There was this silence which filled up the space between us. But not always, I still remember the days when I used to accompany him to the market, feed the pigeons on our rooftop, wander around when he was giving Urdu lessons to my sister on the dining table, trips to his room to watch TV while my parents were asleep. These were some pleasant memories. The last few years were more like a dream....hazy, oblivious and something I cannot really recall.

Ayn Rand+Floyd

Studios (engineers-read labs) in the afternoon are always painful, especially during summer time. The class at 12:30, followed by the speedy run to the mess….yikes!! My two wheeled contraption makes sure that I sweat it out to maximize the “after lunch-before class” time. Heat wanders my mind. As I climb up the stairs to CTW, I picture my room like an air conditioned mall everybody loves to enter when on a treeless sidewalk.

Time of entry-1:00pm

t-25 minutes and counting……

The newspaper wasn’t there, so a possible option was a short nap. As I lay sideways, “We the living” by Rand caught my attention, kept carelessly on the shelf. I had it for sometime now, but always felt that anything by Rand needs a mood. It’s not light, not casual, not really FFUN so to say. Don’t know what made me pick it up. Perhaps too much wandering :)). The best part of a book is undoubtedly the beginning. The publisher’s name, copyright, acknowledgements foreword. One tends to expect something. It’s only in the middle that conclusions are made, whether it is dragged, or use of over the top words.etc Otherwise, every book is nice for the first ten pages.

I took a seat and inserted the floyd folder on my playlist.

People, I discovered that Pink Floyd and Ayn Rand are made for each other. I flipped through the pages like I was on the cycle twenty minutes back. Reading about Irina, Kira, kulaks mixed with a dosage of psychedelia freshened me(okai, I admit I have this thing for anything Russian, don’t know why).

My phone rings

“dude…..the prof has come, where the hell are you? sleeping? “

“No man….didn’t sleep, that’s the problem.”

Exit 1:45pm

I saw it..........

I have noticed that majority of content on my blog is about events that took place in delhi. I confess that spending 5 years in this city doesn’t qualify as being a true “dilli-walah”. I hardly know about places outside south delhi and strongly detest travelling in DTC buses. It is a place our media loves to loathe, perhaps due to the million expectations which they have from our capital, but the one thing that makes it so seductive are the contrasts visible on every street. Comparisons with beer can be made-bitter in the first sip but tends to get smooth as one goes on.

This December, I was walking around CP with a friend, getting really excited about the efficiency of the metro garnished with the well landscaped central park above the station. Any visit to CP is literally fruitless without stopping at Wenger’s, which is almost an institution in selling the tastiest breads and pastries. We both grabbed our swiss rolls, and walked out to enjoy them in the crisp winter. CP has wide sidewalks besides the shops with scattered benches to sit. We found a good spot and took out the rolls from the boxes. The ambience was festive. Fat aunties and uncles with fatter children were buzzing here and there. Everybody seemed so well fed and prosperous. Three street children were playing right next to a garbage can. They were all waiting for some spoilt kid to throw chunks of his/her pastry for reasons like insufficient cream,change of mood.etc etc.

[The sheer irony of the situation just hit me. I guess we have all been through this at some point of time in our lives. A rainy night-the busy traffic signal-a hand tapping on the fogged window of the car-no change in the purse......Our attention span in such cases usually lasts no longer than a second. Some pleasant topic of discussion always comes which puts that snippet of reality behind.]

One of them came to us. My friend gave her a five rupee coin. She said something in the ear of the other two. They came running as well. I had a tenner. I gave it to the elder one and told her to share it amongst themselves. She very politely agreed. But after getting the money, she predictably didn’t. The third one came and I was like “what the hell, lets go sit somewhere else!!”. But then I looked at her and looked at my roll. I gave her a tenner. She started dancing and mocking the elder girl with the note fluttering in her hand and they were having a good laugh.People say one should find happiness in the worst of circumstances, I just saw it…..

A travelogue

After one month of intense (???) training in Delhi, I just needed a break. Despite Kharagpur being a sleepy town existing in the laziest state of India (no offence!), life there is excessively hectic. At times, even taking soap to the washroom after relieving oneself can be stressful and demand effort. Summer vacations were supposed to recharge my batteries, but due to the reasons mentioned in my previous blog, I landed in a genuinely hectic place…. pretty much comparable to kgp;).
Hence a trip to Mussorie was planned, and even my dad who famously loves his office chair took a vacation after 4 years and decided to come…oh yeah…. he loves me like anything!!!!
I know family trips have their limitations, but at least 2 things are guaranteed…. nice place to stay and loads of food coz parents are so particular about them.
After exiting Dehradun, we were welcomed by the following messages:

“Mussorie- Pahadon ki Rani mein aapka swagat hai- Uttaranchal Tourism”

“Durghatna se Der Bhali”

“Whisky is Risky”

I must give credit…. these guys are creative. The probability of one getting killed due to distraction caused by reading them is pretty high.
The hilly drive starts and my cousin sister, who happens to be with us, and who just loves to get sick (no cynicism here…. its just plain fact, she had even taken the anti-nausea tablet before leaving!!) feels like puking …… so the car is stopped, and the majestic hills get a serving of her breakfast, what a start!! We reach a place called Jharipani, about 4 km before Mussorie where our cottage was situated. The place was heavenly, clouds literally going past us…. a Tibetan monastery nearby, with sounds of prayer bells and hymns made the atmosphere so ethereal, words just cannot describe it.
After resting for sometime, the first stop, like in all the hill stations was the mall road. Even though the tourist season was nearing its end, the sea of humanity there was overwhelming. The most annoying part was the presence of the “darling-ji” crowd….newly married couples, with brides all flaming in red declaring to the world that they are no longer available, and guys holding them tightly as if every male or female(in some cases) in the surrounding wants to take her away. This crowd also includes people who prefer to bring their cars, bikes on the mall road which was once strictly reserved for walkers…stopping at every make shift mela, riding on the giant wheel.etc.etc.
Hence, we concluded that the mall market was the area to ignore. I caught hold of a local tourist brochure and short listed some lonely spots which consisted of long walks and short treks.
The next stop was the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration—my dad’s college during his probationer days. It was a nice campus, spread over a huge area, planned at various levels. The aim of showing the academy was to instill some inspiration(in me) to try for the UPSC exam after graduation. I feel it will take more than just some buildings to convince me to take that path…. anyways, it was pretty nostalgic for pops, especially when Hari, the canteen man recognized him immediately. These sorts of events make me think of the feeling I will get when I come to kgp say after 15 years with my wife/companion(hopefully, I will have some lady in my life at that point).
After seeing every place worth seeing in Mussorie in the next couple of days, I would just describe some interesting incidents.

--My secret attempts to smoke were indeed memorable. Disappearing midway during walks to get some fag must have made people suspicious, but I guess I pulled it off pretty well. The real test of control took place when dad, sitting in the living room of the cottage at 10 pm, his scotch on the table, asked my uncle

“Yaar shailey……cigarette hai kya ??”
“Bhaiyya, I thought you had left longtime back.”
“Yaar…..inna changa mausam hai…..peene ka mann kar raha hai.”
“Haan haan zaroor….ek minute.”

There came my uncle with a pack of IndiaKings in his hand. Dad lighted one up, and since he was sitting besides me, the magical aroma literally flew past me. The mettle of men show up only in dire straits…..so true!!!!

--The only magazines available in the cottage were-femina, elle, cosmo, savvy, society.etc. They were interesting to read, and eventually made me respect women even more.

-- For once I decided to give god a chance…..and voluntarily went alone to visit the Tibetan monastery. It turned out that the entire temple was a part of the residence of some Tibetan lady, to add to that she was also the proud owner of 4 alsatians…who somehow detected the atheist waves being emitted, and chased me back to the cottage.

--The 5 km walk upto Cloud Nine-a house made by a British Major in 1838, now converted into a resort- was exquisite. It was drizzling slightly and the road was really steep. Inside the house, only two things were available for consumption- tea and pakodas– PERFECT. An old radio, Chinese crockery over 125 years old, and photographs showing people like Sunil Gavaskar, Rahul Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi as the proud visitors… all elements of a classy retreat.

Overall, the stay was beneficial….lots of food, lack of smoke, friendship with canines and much needed rest.

Da Vinci Code:Pain in the neck

Ever since I spent my summer vacations idle in first year, there was an enormous urge to be occupied this time. The problem with holidays exceeding 20 days is the gargantuan amounts of laziness that creeps in. The day usually starts at 10:00-10:30, breakfast(or brunch) at 11:00, and bathing by 12:30...at the end of the ablution and the daily release of excreta, lunch time comes. This is followed by a siesta as in summers, one gets tired pretty easily. By the time you wake up, again its some snacks or tv etc. To cut the long story short....you are always in this vicious cycle of consuming food, releasing it some other form, sleeping, consuming food again blah blah blah!!!

Hence, i made this bold decision to spend quality time with professionals, thereby getting some "first-hand practical" exposure. So i join this firm created by ex-kgpians in Vasant Kunj, Delhi. Two problems arose on the very first day:

1.Saturdays were not off(only second Saturdays: wtf,even my college has the courtesy to provide a full weekend break!!!!)

2.Proximity to PVR Priya:A place full of chicks, bars, movies....all the distractions necessary to divert my already confused mind.

Anyways, after concluding that life is not a bed of roses, i decide to give it a go. The beginning is disastrous....the work hours are long and the things to do are really boring. Result:i dont attend office on Friday and Saturday in order to get a long weekend and think about it. But, as someone once said "god has his strange ways", i just start liking my time in the office. The work quality improves and i get some importance...even though the firm will manage pretty well without me also. I stopped bunking office for a full day but started doing the same on 5 hour basis.i.e attend it till lunch time,then just dissapear.
It was one of these occasions, when i along with a friend decided to watch the Da Vinci Code. On reaching the ticket counter, the famous row paradox showed itself in full glory.

"2 tickets for da vinci code,4:40 show."
"yessirr, tht wud be 300 rupees."
"which seats?"
"sirrrr.....row B,seat no.3 & 4."
"sabse aage waali row kaunsi hai???"
(a moment of hesitation)"aaa mm sirrr, A."(he appeared too disappointed that i didn't fall in his trick)

300 BUCKS for 2nd row seats......for a movie surrounded by controversy, whose story we already know.....ufffufffufff. But, it is only under pressure that mettle of a man is tested.
After the transaction is done, we headed towards barista, as it the best place for spending quality time without spending money. Still, when the clock stuck 4:10, we came at the entrance of the theatre. Now, some seriously frustrating crap takes place. First, the guard at the door tells us that he will let us enter after 5 minutes---this was not the entry to the screen, but the main door of the multiplex---NO WONDER PEOPLE BOMB THESE PLACES!!!!

When we return after 5 minutes, this guy says, "Sir, you cannot take this bag in."(Since it was a office bunking exercise, i had a small bag on my shoulders.).I sadly part with it and get it deposited in the nearby locker facility(It was just a paan waala who took 10 rupees for keeping bags and cameras).Finally, we enter.
Near our screen stood the usual line of counters serving popcorn and beverages. The World Cup fever was visible, with giant posters, free demo of XBOX 360 etc. Then we look for the cheapest option available for satisfying our stomachs.
1 Popcorn+2 Pepsis=Rs.120
Not bad, i said.
Then i saw something written in small print: Couple combo

Now that was embarrassing.......but being proud kgpians who are above things like girls etc, we took one.
When we finally take our seats in the theatre, this 3 tonne dude with his 2 tonne gf occupy their seats next to me. The problem was that the seats were not designed for these creatures and hence they were overflowing everywhere, making the entire row of mortal humans around them move along. This stole the joy of movie watching as i was always waiting when his arms will spank my cola. To add to that, it was a neck straining exercise to watch Tom Hanks and his long hair from the 2nd row. Credit goes to the director, inspite of the circumstances, i liked the movie a lot.

The Old fashioned point of view

After spending 6 years in Delhi, looking at such a huge demographic strata of people, it is easy to conclude what defines as "cool" or "in". Strolling near PVR cinemas can be an enlightening experience. I'll just sum up my observations regarding the kind of "characters" visible there.

- Guys wearing jeans at such a low altitude that it is not difficult to see the brand of underwear. Some meticulous observation can also reveal the size.

-Spiked hair with a streak of maroon or orange.

-Conical shaped sideburns or.....no sideburns at all.

-There are always 3 or 4 cases where the male deliberately walks with a stoop, iPod in place, showing off his newest nikes(i bet if those beauties ever made contact with a basketball court!!). Common greeting: ssup??

-Although most of these lads dont have a speck of hair on the body, facial growth rulzzz! Keywords: spotted,french, goatee, imperial,stubble.

One may argue that this is what fashion is , but somehow i feel that it is too stereotyped. Every second youngster seems to have the above listed features on them.
All the effort of writing a blog about this seemingly useless issue makes me look like an orthodox person. Well...yeah, i may be the clean shaven, otherwise hairy,
spectacled guy, but atleast, the garment beneath my pants is a secret.