Drinking from the wrong glass.

Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing Zow Zing

2011-03-07T07:54:00.000-08:00

Now, now.

Brace yourselves.

We cannot know him-

The maggot man with an iron chest.

His unspeakable sins hidden within his charred soul.

His long healed wounds caressed, coddled like they were bloody fresh from a few minutes ago.

He sits on his golden pedestal, replete with unicorns and cherubs fussing about, serving his fancies and crying his tears for him.

We saw him before he came, we let him drink our blood and eat our intestines so he may grow, we dreamt of him in yellow silk pajamas playing the Moonlight sonata on his harmonica but now you cannot know him.

Must see: http://www.malcolmgladwellbookgenerator.com/

I fear Maggot man may have been running Libya.

When angels vomit.

2011-03-02T17:43:00.000-08:00

I have decided it is futile to try and be sophisticated when you actually want to be funny. Here's to silliness and a paranoid housemate -

A wandering minstrel I—
A thing of shreds and patches,
Of ballads, songs and snatches,
And dreamy lullaby!

If you haven't seen Mikado, you lead a deprived life.

Thinly veiled contempt.

2010-09-11T16:47:00.001-07:00

So what is the deal with all the bigotry in the world?

I despise most who tell me they don't question the right of Imam Rauf to build the community center, just the wisdom of the location. They are, in some sense, just as bad as those who oppose it outright.

And then there is the clown in Florida who wants to commit sacrilege by burning the Qu'ran. Why are you different from the morons who flew into the WTC? They twisted religion to explain their vile motives and so are you. What example are you setting as a preacher? As someone who has a moral obligation in society, you should know better. Swine.

A world of 6.6 billion people fighting over fairy tales (or the existence of it). Fairy tales that are supposed to show us a way of life, that are supposed to make enforcing morals easy. Restraints that are supposed to help us raise our children better, smoothen societal functioning, answer questions tougher than current science can. Religion is not a contest, Nation (Colbert influence). If someone else is treating it as one, please don't throw on your armor and sink to their level. Like my mommy says, if you throw a stone into slush, it will only splash on you.

A special shout out to this friend on Facebook who posted a video of Pakistani MP/MLAs speaking terrible English, with a post titled - A must see for Indian's - nonetheless. Really? You abuse the apostrophe and want to call attention to someone else's language flaws.

The Gleng Samurai

2010-02-01T10:25:00.000-08:00

Aloooooo, this is irony speaking. I am calling about the order of tall stacks_toward_the_end that I put in for dvasudevan. I don't like how she pwned the game regardless of the arrival of tall stacks (for a while). Henceforth please include an order of ten_minute_tall_stack_starvation with all my tall stacks_toward_the_end orders. Thanks!

I am NOT obsessed with Tetris. Especially NOT with the first person/night mode version. I am NOT going blind from play this game sneakily in my office with the screen brightness set to the least. I am NOT contemplating going as a blocky bit for Halloween this year. I am NOT making patterns of tetris blocks in my pipette tip box. I did NOT pay 4 bucks for a iPod application so I could play Tetris on the pot. I NEVER shush my friends when the game is in critical speed condition. I NEVER curse out loud or blame them for losing.

Just wanted to make this clear and known.

Thank you,

NOT Closet Tetrisaholic

P.S. I did NOT make this while taking a break from NOT playing tetris.

Public pledge of self-regulation for careful altering of world news and memories.

2009-11-25T06:26:00.000-08:00

Is freedom a word we only associate with people who aren't in a visually perceivable cage or under the dominance of a homicidal tyrant?

Dear Goverment of China,

You piss me off. This declaration might potentially get me in a lot of trouble, especially with my friends, but I have reached the point where I must say something about the long-standing madness you call governance else my head will explode. I agree you run a populous country and that calls for decisions that might not please everyone. I will even overlook the fact that you are currently claiming stake on territory that is rightfully ours, but such behavior on your part is neither new nor unexpected. However, you not allowing the freedom of press is something that infuriates me as much as Tibet(s) infuriate you. You alter your geography textbooks, tweak the news and propagate/justify the idea of imprisoning 70 year olds for having an opinion. You are well on your way to becoming a superpower, but you will never be on par with US of A. With your closed minds and open thwarting of free press, you will never be as benevolent as America has been to the people of the world. You will never be able to welcome with open arms other cultures like they have. I know you think it is not necessary, but no country makes progress without allying with other cultures. You must learn to admit your flaws and fix them.
Fear is a formidable weapon to wield but it will always be weaker than patriotism. Learn China, learn. For you can go much further than where you currently aim to be.

Love
Deepu

P.S. This might be funny for some.

Existential angst

2009-10-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Psychopaths on Long Island that are trying to kill me, please let me live to see my first Glycobiology poster. I would prefer if you chose the window between after the conference and before my birthday so I can go when I am twenty-four. If not then, then please after Christmas because I like ridiculing the commercialized conundrum they call celebrations, moreover Santa probably will bring me something nice since I've been fantastic this year.
Yours,
Still standing grad (a.k.a. standing still grad)

We recently met up with an old friend, Devin, who reminded us ever so subtly that we have still not mentioned him in this space. This is fresh off the keyboard after we managed to escape his death grip on our necks. (Why we are referring to ourselves in the plural is still not known, but it might have something to do with the fact that we are pretending to be British these days). Now that the aforementioned mentioning is done, we shall proceed to more important matters. It has come to our attention that we have been perceived as an uncaring, unsharing, unyielding type person. While that maybe partly true depending on the perceiver, let us make clear a few things.

We are not responsible for sharing things that we were supposed to receive but did not and hence had to go foraging for ourselves. If absolutely demanded of, we shall part with as little as can possibly qualify as sharing. We shall not participate in the tomfoolery of applying different types of make-up on the same person and qualifying them as two people. We have previously observed your (in)competence with numbers and hence even simple addition by you shall be deeply doubted. You have made us aware that you think of social websites to be a time-sink (while unwarrantedly looking at our monitor screens nonetheless), our independently working experts have concluded that reproduction is the real time-sink.

We suppose that we must come up a fitting disclaimer lest we get into some sort of trouble. This is /not/ directed at any single person. Especially /not/ Righteous Obsequious Leech (or someone that has similar initials). Described behavior is /not/ loosely-based on people we know in real life.

Regards

Cadbury (Our British buddy)

Cadbury doesn't believe in colors or in music. Apologies.

ich bin berlinerin

2009-09-24T08:24:00.001-07:00

Traveling is tricky business. If you have the time, you don't have the money and if you have the money then you don't have the time. If you have both, then you married well. Congratulations.

Berlin.
Do I like the place? Sure.
Do I love the place? Hmm...

It suffers from an identity crisis, I think. Maybe it is my Americanized view of how a capital should be or could be, but Berlin is half a historic site and half an impressive modern capital. There are tall buildings here and there, taller monuments (and a very tall TV tower which was my (0,0) when walking around the city). Washington D.C. made up its mind, it seems, to be a historic site. The city is clean cut, most buildings are constructed in mud-colored stones giving off a wise-with-age city feeling. Possibly because so much of Berlin was reconstructed to look like how it used to, the city seems like it lost some of its charm. The imperial government building, Reichstag, is complete with tall Romanesque columns, sea-green domes that I've now come to associate with Berlin monuments and a resplendent lawn. If this were Washington, the Reichstag would be surrounded by statues of important people or at the least be free of metallic clutter. Right behind the Reichstag is the huge metal sphere that looks like Atlas shrugged right on top of the building and the white crows (yes, white) of Berlin picked at it till it had enough holes to become a spherical sieve. There is no coherence, no flow in the design. To make matters worse, the Reichstag is adjacent to the Bundeskanzleramt (the Federal Chancellery building), heavily glass clad and cement reinforced into simple straight lines, which is a striking contrast to the rich textury walls of the parliament building. You can't help but walk away thinking "Hmm... if we could put the Reichstag waaaaay there... they would all look better."

After five days of internet-independent, I-trust-you-have-a-ticket-so-I-won't-check faith, classy jewelry, paid toilets with fantastic toilet paper, supremely good coffee, credit card unacceptability and perfect weather, I decided - Ich liebe Deutschland.

Color: Sea-green
Song: Resurrection fern (Iron and wine)

Prohibitively prohibitive

2009-08-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

It must be made against the law for dentists, visa interview officers, housemates and tax consultants to be adorable. It just really messes things up.

Julio de cuarta

2009-07-08T23:20:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention that there are "innocent" people in the world. These people are quite ubiquitous it seems and these terrorist fellows seem to want to kill only them. What's that all about?

Every year I tell myself I will stay home the fourth of July and enjoy a relaxing evening. And every year I find myself making a three hour trip to see a twenty-minute jelly fish smoke trail party and complaining all the way back home about how much pollution this spectacle is causing. It is at this juncture, that the people I go see the fireworks with decide they won't ever come with me again (they are of course forced to change their minds later (Disclaimer: no inhumane methods are used in the coercing of these people to remain friends with me)). My opinion of the celebrations undergo minor changes every year and so does the crowd I watch the show with. This year, the main attraction was an eight(?) year old who would absolutely not let her father's head stray from the direction of the fireworks. She did have the unfair advantage of sitting on his shoulders and having neck-steering access, but nonetheless she was doing a good job of amusing us. She even started the oohing-aahing session when the new supercool cuboidal fireworks came on. Designing and testing of fireworks is an enviable job, even better than trying out video games and being head of the administration department. The girl reminded me of how much fun kids are as long as they are someone else's.

That said, I'd like to rephrase my usual Independence day message - always wear comfortable shoes when you walk in New Jersey.

Color: Blue (go Obama)

Song: Ulysses (Franz Ferdinand)

Adventures of Chlora

2009-06-12T13:12:00.001-07:00

Alas! All the perfumes of Arabia cannot wash off this smell of bleach...

The city is not what it used to be. There is no safe place where you can have dinner without worrying about how it smells or even eat a cracker without fearing if the crumbs will be caught. Taking a shower is deemed damage to the bathtub and trees shedding leaves considered a trespassing of law.
It all began when the people of Clifford signed the lease. When the ink was still fresh, Landlordy made his move. He quickly turned life into a gamble for the citizens of Clifford, making obnoxious demands that the people almost always fulfilled when the lease was waved in their faces warningly. The once academic society slowly degenerated into a vengeful creature that crafted politically correct emails to keep Landlordy at bay.

An oppressed society will always erupt into violence... a hero will emerge to cleanse the society of its scum. Who will turn it over and expose its shameful underbelly ridden with greedy, unreasonable demands...

On a starless night, a silent figure observes the vast city partially shrouded in darkness, it's gaze protective. Its eyes looked over expanses of polished waxed floors, white bathroom tiles that could be used as mirrors and spotless kitchen counters. A cry for help with a tough stain on a door comes from the eastern halls and the figure disappears into the alley. Bearing a bottle of pure bleach in a convenient spray bottle, the figure assures the victim that things are under control. It sprays and scrubs with all its might till the stain is completely gone. It asks for no payment, it asks for no gratitude. It sulks away back into the alley to regain its watchful eye over Clifford.

As dawn approaches, the Bleacher disappears into a small window and emerges as a simple graduate student driving a third-handed Japanese car. Completely oblivious to her heroic acts of the night, she goes to lab and carries out her experiments. Come night, she dons her once white t-shirt and frayed night pants, commands her bottle of bleach and sets off on her guard duties. Fingernails eroded, hands dry and clothes devoid of color, she fights for to protect Clifford from Landlordy.
The people of Clifford recognize the Chlorox bottle she bears in hand and symbolize it.
They call her Chlora.

Color: White
Song: Batman background music

Chronicles of Buntington - Shittylandlordosis anonymous (I)

2009-05-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

Hi, my name is Berry and I suffer from shittylandlordosis. I own a decent house in Buntington. I've been renting it out for quite a while now. Currently, three silly girls live there- Bee, Bips and Bing. Why are they silly you ask? They signed off their souls to me in the most binding house lease that has ever existed (get this, they can NEVER break the lease, EVER: unless they die or something). These girls are good tenants, but they want to move out at the end of the lease. When Bee called me to say she needed to break the lease a few months ago, I went berserk on her. I think she chickened out. I always behave like a psycho and immediately people don't want to deal with me and give in. This is the ace up my sleeve. If she hadn't, there is the binding agreement that I would have waved in their faces which says they have to pay the severely overpriced rent of 1800$/month (without utilities ;)) whether they live there or not for the rest of lease period. After that drama quickly ended, they announced to me in April that they want to move out when the lease expires. I recovered after a small heart-attack to tell them "Ok, whatever". The process of finding a tenant for my overpriced decent house is impossibly difficult. Scores and scores of families schedule to see the place. Then I send my incredibly hot wife, Bia, to show it to them. Only one score show up. Only one person calls back. Then they meet me and strangely leave the room within five minutes of talking to me, gagging quite evidently. For every score of people that leave gagging, one will walk back into the room saying he will take it. That is how I first met these girls. Sigh, such nice memories.

My incredibly hot wife, Bia, while showing my overpriced decent place doesn't mention the problems the place has. These are my special instructions to her, she adds on a few tricks of her own like not taking down messages that people leave for me properly, pretending to not be involved etc. Sometimes, I wonder if this is because she is a smart, blonde Swede or because she is just plain stupid. I had Bia use a combination of the above tricks to hide the fact that my overpriced decent place has roaches (in the dishwasher.. hehehe). I think she first didn't tell the girls, then when the keen Bing saw them, she told her that it was a "minor problem that almost every kitchen has". The naive girls didn't pursue it. They were interested in other issues like the lack of closet doors, window screens, dysfunctional power outlets and such. To keep them appeased I fixed the outlets and for a whole year, I remained dense about the closets and screens. Clever, no? Bee would email me now and then about it. I trashed these emails immediately and told Bia to tell the girls that I never received it because of a technical problem. The dumb girls actually bought this. I mean, who DOESN'T receive an email, c'mon.

Now that the girls want to move out I decided to harrass them about getting the overpriced decent house exterminated. They refused at first. Then I pulled out the ace psycho behavior. I wrote several redundant emails paying absolutely no heed to their replies. They kept telling me they told Bia about the problem and I never acknowledged it. It's all a part of the plan. Brilliant, no? These silly mollies gave me 3600$ in security. So my master plan was to not return a penny of this claiming some random repairs. By now, the girls are used to my psycho behavior and it is time to change tactics, so when they said they would do a self-extermination, I left a threatening voicemail on Bee's phone that I'll have them arrested if they didn't inform us of these treatments because there were tenants living downstairs. I don't know if this worked or not because they did call Bia and tell her they'll co-ordinate with the people downstairs. I am waiting to hear from them... I was so sure Bee would call me right back to argue about it. Bips is the quiet type but I know she is waiting to charge at me. I almost got slapped with a defamation suit because of Bips once. In one of my boring extempores of lousy past tenants, I mentioned to Bips and Bing that Bee was full of shit and nothing but trouble, in what I thought was a classic divide-and-rule move. But not only did they glare at me like I was a jackass (not that it had an effect, I had my shamelessness mask on), they also told Bee the proceedings of that extempore. I then had to call Bee and suck up like a starved dog that found an empty milk carton in the trash. Ah, the difficulties of this job. Having to come up with new ways to torture tenants is so hard. Finding new tenants is also hard. No one understands me. :(

But like a silver lining on the cloud, you know what makes all this fun for me?

All three of them are grad students.

Muhahahhaha... haha... muhahahaha.

What I'm wearing: Sloppy black t-shirt, torn jeans

What Bia is wearing: Short, short, short dress

Barracking on...

2009-05-24T15:53:00.000-07:00

"Give me chance, O ye of little faith!" spake His E-ness.

I never give up a chance to ridicule bad English. At my best behavior, I will let it go with a suggested correction. Needless to say, I am not a very popular editor among my friends. "SMS lingo" is an instant turn off, Facebook updates have to be at the least grammatically correct, e-mails have to be properly punctuated and letters definitely have to be indented, justified and well-written. Information redundancy, the use of articles unnecessarily, improperly placed prepositions and unpunctuated sentences are all manifestations of poor language. There is no way I can say all of this without sounding like a snob. But then, if preferring a sandwich toasted isn't uptight, then why should preferring a semantically apt sentence be? The English language as I learned it from my father is dying slowly. I want to be all revolutionary and try to save it, but other than the occasional correction, I don't do anything.

I've begun to tolerate words like wat, wot, plz, bcoz, whr, fer (Apparently 'for' but could also be 'fur'?), da, ma (Carnatic overtures?), rotflz, lolz (What is with the random letter addition at the end? How about lolg, rotflk?), skl (school), cud (not what the cow chews), wud (Scottish influence much?), l8r (I know alphanumerical, but whoa there...) and the icing on the cake- b, d, k, r, s, u, ur, v, y (be, the, ok, are, yes, you, your, we, why)(Just checking to make sure it takes me exactly one millisecond more to type the actual word). Even in the times of the telegraph, where each word cost the sender more, people didn't mess with spelling so much.

With the advent of the computer, one would think that since it takes less time to correct mistakes (with software actually prompting spellings and offering grammar checks), people would make less of them. My mother was right in asking me to not expect things, especially from the technologically pampered. I still remember one of the earliest gifts my father gave me - a Wren & Martin. For fear of it going out of publication, I have mine tucked away safely in a chest with other classics like Tom Sawyer, Moby Dick and such.

The day isn't far when there are two types of English, official and colloquial. Further down the lane is a twenty page dictionary. Maybe a couple of hundred years from now we'll resort to Hieroglyphics. Reminds me of this article that I wrote several years back about things coming a full circle. Probably true for linguistics as well. Sigh.

I have never been to England, but I have my hopes pinned on them for the preservation of this language.

Color: Red and yellow

Song: Stand by me

Must read: And then they came for me (Lasantha Wickramatunge)

Nucleotide homicide

2009-05-10T12:17:00.000-07:00

E-man is a brilliant ambitious undergrad who likes P-chem(he's not fictitious) but also takes classes like Natural Disasters. Recently, he asked me to write about him in my blog. E-man thinks I am nice, so to keep him in that illusion, I decided to humor him. E-man punctures his usual quiet air bubble with unintentionally funny punch lines that last a long time in your memory. E-man lives in the Hyde-out and again, he is not a fictional character.

Pop literature by E-man:

What do E-man and Paris Hilton have in common?

-->Let's talk about *me* now.

How does E-man react to people laughing at his jokes?

-->Am I funny? Do you think that is funny?

How E-man reacts when you've been out of office for a week?

-->Of course I missed you. Ask anyone.

---->Well, I didn't say it but I felt it.

------>Maybe I didn't, but I thought I should feel it.

-------->Now I think I should have.

---------->Ok fine, I didn't.

------------>I'll make it up. I'll walk you to the elevator. I need to go to the bathroom anyway.

What is fashion to E-man?

-->Does this coat make me look big?

What did E-man say when he discovered the blogosphere?

-->Wow, your blog is kind of the world to your mind.

How does E-man escape things?

--> I really need to go the bathroom. I've been putting it off for an hour now.

In a character sketch, how does E-man describe the person?

--> He is bald, short and has red hair here and there.

All in all, E-man is a fun guy who will graduate soon and disappear into the land of Med-school. The E-world will miss him oh-so-terribly.

Color: Yellow (like E-man's egg-shirt)

Song: I'm a fool to want you (Billie Holiday)

Retrograde emancipation

2009-05-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

Spinning is an ass-kicking exercise if done right. If it doesn't hurt, you aren't doing it right.

It has been quite sometime since I have been with company where I don't have to measure my words. Where I don't have to weigh out exactly what impact my opinions will have on my little audience. I've never had trouble saying black and white before. Now I parse through the sentence in my head lest it have a hidden double meaning that is offensive. (Some how it seems ok when an African-American person says black, but not when a Caucasian does) (note usage of African-American and Caucasian). I'm half way between the colors, I'm brown. Despite numerous attempts that my mommy made to turn me into a fair maiden, I stayed brown as ever. I don't have any issues people calling me brown. It's a nice color, don't you think?
Earthen people. Baked in the hot Indian sun (I recently also had a conversation with a "fair" North Indian who thought everyone below Madhya Pradesh is dark-skinned. Not so fair, are we?). The discrimination, in my opinion, is more within our country than anywhere else. It is there in the everyday matrimonial ad that seeks a "fair, something, everything" bride or groom. Every Fair & Lovely hoarding screams colorism (we are all unfortunately the same race, if we weren't, then perhaps India would have had its own little Apartheid movement). Bollywood actresses with beautiful brown skin caked with whitening make-up are the mascots of this disgusting divide. Progressive views in woman education, widow remarriage and all that jazz have been exhaustively discussed in many letters to the editor. But even today, when my family looks for a groom, they want a chekkachevael nu maapilai. Chekkachevaelness is roughly the equivalent of fair enough to go pink when pinched. Maapilai is roughly the equivalent of a groom. 'Roughly' because there is so much less expected from a groom in the rest of the world in the looks department and so much more expected in the character department. Standard disclaimers apply here.

Divides are unavoidable, illogical ones more so. While we are at it, may I propose a few? The ability to tell good coffee from bad, turquoise from green, background from signal in western blots and finally, Terence from Philip (Minus five to the maapilai who doesn't know who T and P are).

Credit to Mathangi for the title. I thought and thought but didn't want to call this anything else.

Color: Yellow
Song: Guru bin kaahe guman (Zakir Hussain)

P.S. This post is especially dedicated to women across the world whose significant others don't understand that both set of parents are just as important, as are social lives, careers and cultures.

As of today...

2009-04-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

E-man is my favorite person in the whole wide world. No offense to the others. Well, except some Republicans and the people who decide how much I get paid.

Song: Fur Elise (Beethovan)
Color: Purple

Ae Gogol!

2009-04-14T13:14:00.001-07:00

I'm living my life in multiples of 22 mainly because there are only three factors.

a) Dear Long Island blondes who drive SUVs, the blind spot is NOT a myth. It exists and I am in it.
b) Dear Thesis Committee member, please do not roast my behind over the fire lit with nitty-gritty details.
c) Dear Eugene, I will write a post in your honor soon. Yes, I accept payment in cash.
d) Dear Important people who decide how much grad students get paid, we want to do more than just about survive.
e) Dear Person who leaves bottles open, most liquids evaporate.
f) Dear Barrack, I want an iPod too. It's cool with me if it has your speeches on it.
g) Dear Grammatically challenged person writing blogs/letters/notes, there is a difference between your and you're.
h) Dear Deepa Mehta, you write belchy stories.
i) Dear Anurag Kashyap, you write sucky screenplays adapted from belchy stories.
j) Dear Person I consider a friend, send me a gift.
k) Dear Kalpen Modi, please go back to House.
l) Dear Person reading this, thank you very much for leaving an appropriately critical yet nice comment with just the right number of compliments.
m) Dear Person reading this and considering not writing a comment, see you in Grad school.

Color: Blue
Song: Minnat

The Science of Salsa

2009-03-25T07:44:00.000-07:00

You must try street parking on Roosevelt Island. It is a valuable* experience that will enlighten you on human suffering. In fact, I recommend it as a field trip for Moral Science class.

Who are these people? The ones who smell bad on Subways, the ones who steal quarters from a blind man's bowl, the ones who jump over the turnstile, ones that knock out the guitar from the musician playing at Penn, those who make illegal turns on red, those that leave dirt notes on my car, that knock over my garbage cans on the driveway, that leave a marinara mess in the elevator, ones that leave 0.3 mls of trypsin in a 5 ml tube, those that see 2 mls of pH 6.8 buffer and run as far as possible from that bottle to avoid making up more, that borrow my earrings and lose them, that judge my work timings... who are these people? Why are they in my life? Who let them in? Why do they try so hard to make my mornings bitter? Why do they always succeed? Where's the door?

I want to let them out.

Color: Black

Song: Naina thag lenge

Prop culture

2009-03-13T16:54:00.000-07:00

It is a Friday evening and I am still working when someone walks past me to the elevator (obviously going home). They look at me and go "Have a good weekend, don't work too hard."
What kind of a sick joke is that? Who says that to a grad student? Don't work too hard. Bah. Good weekend. Bah-er.

Nineteen years in any education system, even the Indian one, should give you some sense of what you like and what you don't in a profession. Though the Indian school system forces its choices on you, it prepares you for everything. Everything including mediocre colleges, dispassionate teachers, unethical attendants and unnecessary bureaucracy. I most certainly sympathize with those who aren't fortunate enough to be pursuing exactly what they want because of financial, academic or familial issues. But for those, who strive and push themselves (and others) hard in college to get an engineering degree and then treat it like a paper napkin while they tuck into money lined management (or other unrelated) jobs, I can only have contempt in its purest form.
No offense to anyone who has found their true calling only after wasting four years in a degree you never were going to use. However, there are others who change their career path after prolonged sessions of "passionate" questioning, cross-questioning and cross-examining a professor in class over a simple amino-acid sequence to a financial fiasco. I am sure they have a fantastic excuse for it. But it is what it is, an excuse. It can never be a reason. Treason? Sure. Reason? Never.

There is some part of me that feels really bad for the banks that are falling all over each other, about talks of the glorious bronze Wall Street bull being replaced by a bear and for people expecting Obama to lift this sobbing child of an economy with his strong Democratic arms overnight. But for the cross-examining ship-jumpers, I have only one thing to say - Ha. Ha. (Like Nelson in the Simpsons)

Academia will never go out of business.

Color: Cinthol soap green
Song: Yaar yaar sivam

Tickets please.

2009-02-21T08:44:00.000-08:00

What do I do for fun? I work.
And what do I do at work then? I have fun.

Being on Long Island without a car can be rather boring. People who can live their lives by the bus and train schedule set by transport offices that simply don't understand that people want to travel east and west at all times in the day will probably survive here. But me, I don't think I'd last.
Here are the "facts".
I live in the middle of Long Island, thirty miles east is my university and thirty miles west is NYC. In the morning, there is a massive temporary migration westward toward New York City from all over LI. And in the evening, the Wall Street/Connecticut/Midtown birdies fly back to their east nests. The transport offices safely assume that no one wants to go east in the morning (unless it is ridiculously early in the morning or too early in the noon) and no one wants to go west in the evening.
Hence, I got this splendid piece of machinery that has been the favorite relief area for many aerial beings for the past year and whose every part Pepboys has seen inside out. Literally. I shouldn't be complaining since it is fairly trouble free most of the year and is satisfied with cheap fuel once a week.
So one would be lead to believe that cars are the solution to transport issues on LI.
Hardly.

With a car, not only you spend thrice as much money on general items (insurance and fuel not included) but you also spend exactly the same amount of time finding a parking spot as you did driving to work, eventually parking in the farthest spot the university has. Even the cops don't know the spot exists so you can't get a ticket. Busier mornings see me parking in paid lots without enough change for the machine, getting tickets that I will appeal giving the most outrageous reasons. All the parking tickets I've paid in the last year are actually worth a small fortune back in India.
In winters, you spend a good hour in the morning shoveling your drive way to be able to get your car out, then shoving the snow off your car so that you can get into it and finally coax it to move with small nudges of the accelerator down the slippery local road. In the summer, your car doubles up as an oven where you can put the cheese on the bagel and leave it on the passenger side seat; breakfast will be ready in minutes (this summer I am going to try and make a pizza). You don't need a travel mug to carry your coffee either. Your car is the travel mug.

But all that given, I have a fairly eventless drive on the highway making it to work in thirty minutes while laughing at the westbound, slow-moving parking lot on the other side.

Color: Iridium
Song: Sasuraal genda phool

Bizzaro world

2009-02-17T08:50:00.000-08:00

Being in an automobile accident is a strange feeling. One minute you are driving, then next minute you are not. Everything is blank and you are wondering why the hell you did what you did. At exactly the point when you are done, you realize a hundred better ways to do it. Graduate life is that way too. Life is that way too. A strange feeling.

We bring ourselves to accommodate so many things in a day. Inexplicably huge bills, unfair judgments, living away from home, calling America home, losing a week's worth of work by tripping on your shoelaces, unyielding people, yielding people, a messy kitchen, inadequate NY drivers, indifferent professors, incompetent AT&T staff, overzealous scientists (not the good kind), laptops that will freeze when you need them the most, lines that will be long when you have the least time, inconsiderate undergrads, expensive food that comes in pretentious portions, weighing scale numbers.
But somethings are just like a mismatched transplant organ. They don't fit into the scheme of your bodily function because rejection comes from your own immune system. The immune system that you built with years of playing in dirt, by eating tasteless green vegetables and chalk, by leaving wounds unattended and by associating with people that have the most contagious coughs and poxes will fight an excruciatingly painful battle that it will eventually lose to immunosuppressants. We build emotional immune systems too the same way. With years of playing in the vicinity of school yard bullies and show offs, by eating truth and lies, by leaving fights with friends unattended and by associating with people that have the most contagious cynicism and critique. This system too has been challenged with many an antigen (short for antipathy-generating), some that it remembers and fights against effectively second time around, some that usually come back with unrecognizable mutations and some that haunt it forever. The biggest rejection that this immune system will exhibit is the loss of a loved one. There are no drugs to make this bearable, there is no transplant that can make it better and no matter how frequent the occurrence, the acceptability is nil.
The effect is permanent and the amputation is visible.

Song: And so it is (Damien Rice)
Color: Sea green

0th.

2009-02-10T13:53:00.000-08:00

So I found my groove in the unlikeliest of places. Pittsburgh. Sometime on my way to Duquesne Incline and back, I realized that I wanted to write (again). Not necessarily about my trip itself, but just write. It is like how I realized suddenly on my twenty-fourth birthday that all I ever want to do on a daily basis is science. It keeps me content, fidgety, thinking and constantly evaluating my intelligence.

That said, I'm going to pick up right where I left off.

The Zeroth Law of Graduatics.

I am not a lazy person. I am not an active person either. I classify myself as somewhat productive albeit capable of more. I would like to think I am a little above above-average. How much above, I don't know. When I take an IQ test, instead of focusing on the questions themselves, I invest time in prayers toward falling in the genius category. Needless to say, for the last five years I've been stuck at 131. The upper limit for the above average category is 130. That puts me just past the line in the Intelligent category.
This is a very unsettling place to be in. If I worked a little less hard, then I'd be above average. But if I worked a littler harder then I am settling deeper into "Intelligence".
This phenomenon is called Performance limbo.
That is where I am. And that is where my data is. When I look for reproducibility, my data is repeatable within the acceptable limits. But more often than not, on the upper end of the limit. If the acceptable limit is ±5%, then mine is most likely to be close to 5% error. I know people who will say 6% is also acceptable. Some might consider error bars close to 7, 8 and 9 too. I think until it is single digit, people might consider it to be valid data. But if it hits 10%, then it mostly needs another data set. So there is an allowed error limit for the allowed error. And so on.
This window of acceptability is so vague. So unacceptably vague.
What we need is a law of limits. For IQ ranges, for error bars, Speed limits, BAC limits, "Normal" behavior.
The Law of Limits states that the allowed variation in the allowed error is the same fraction as the allowed error itself. The decimal till which such error can be calculated is numerically equal to the allowed error expressed as a percentage rounded to the nearest whole number.

This is also known as the Zeroth law of Graduatics.

Color: Black and Gold
Song: Paper planes

Emergency Adventure

2008-10-08T21:37:00.000-07:00

Someone wrote me a message on IM: itz bcum ovr.
And I laughed really hard.

I thought to myself that life was not exciting enough and decided to develop a gum-ache. A graduate student getting a gum-ache in America is like AIDS in Africa. It can't be cured. So this gum-ache started last Wednesday and I started icing it to get sleep at night. It was bang in the front, my bunny teeth getting chattery from all the ice.
Graduate students get indecent dental coverage and dental appointments with the doctors who participate in the esoteric program have to be made a month in advance. So I decided to go on our desi Combiflam. Then on Friday, I decided it was about time I did something (the ice was giving me cold sores) and I went to the Stony Brook Infirmary. What an appropriate name. And they have just one standard prescription - antibiotics and Ibuprofen. Penicillin and Ibuprofen. Erythromycin and Ibuprofen. Thiscin and Ibuprofen. Thatcin and Ibuprofen. So the diagnosis that Dr.Tuckerman gave me was that I was suffering from Gingivitis, an inflammation of the gums and some salt soaks, antibiotics and ibuprofen can take care of it.
So I paid 15$ for the medicines and went my merry way hoping I'll be fine by Monday. Monday was a special monday because I was due to be presenting in lab meeting. Saturday came and the swelling started. By Saturday night I looked like I was officially on the rugby team- mouth swelling, slurred speech et al. I decided to go into lab thrice and retreated to my room. Sunday was the only day that now separated me from the overbearing meeting. So Sunday morning, I popped 4 Ibuprofens, made an icepack and drove to the lab (READ: insane 45 minute ordeal). Once in the lab, I decided to warm up before I "focus" and opened up the customary Gtalk program. A few chats later, the offending gum begun to act up again. I ignored it and had lunch. After lunch and the antibiotics that I was still investing hope in, the pain did not go away. My usual 4 Ibus didn't help either. I had made about 3 slides (Title, Blank, Thank you) and had about 100% of it left.
So I did the worst ever thing a person in an emergency can do - I went to the emergency room. The ER, is anything but emergency. A relaxed atmosphere with kids screaming, rolling on the floor, America's funniest videos playing on the lounge TV. It was almost like being at home on a sunday evening.

"Please take your badge and wait in the line for the emergency dentist."

I discovered that there was just one woman in the line before me and she was in excruciating pain so I dropped plans of jumping the line before her. After 2 agonizing hours, the dentist finally found time to see me. A couple of X-rays and weird tooth examinations later, it was confirmed that I had a necrosed nerve that was infected - hence the swelling. She suggested root canal treatment (My God has absolutely no intention of making this easy on me) and also for immediate relief said I should get the swelling punctured, drain the pus and go on stronger antibiotics. I said ok.
I've experienced a lot of different kind of pains. Bicycle fall downs. Skidding in the sewer. Punched in the face. Menstrual cramps. Wrong vein picked for blood donation. My repertoire is somewhat impressive. But the pain of getting an injection in your gums is the mother of them all. Ironically, the injection itself is local anesthesia but does nothing to alleviate the shivers you get after that injection. Local anesthesia and weird senselessness in place, the kind dentist (who was fair and warned me that all this would hurt) did what she had to do and I got out of the place after having given the hospital my insurance details.
(I am yet to find out if my ER visits are covered. Else I am not only screwed, I am also third degree burned. I am yet to find a dentist to do the root canal treatment.)
What I did do though was finish my PowerPoint slides ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start. I also had an exam on Wednesday for my (supercool) Imaging course. I decided that I must rest on Tuesday and cram on the said Wednesday for the exam. Of course this was insufficient preparation and the exam was anyway predestined to be ruined by reckless mistakes.
I am not going to tempt fate by saying nothing else can possibly go wrong (Three unpaid parking tickets begging to be appealed, the car making weird noises, the landlord wanting us to declare bankruptcy are some others I've to deal with right now). But I think I am ready to call this a week.

Screw you guys, I'm going home.

Color: Blue
Song: Alaska is a microcosm of America

Guffaw.

2008-09-30T16:20:00.001-07:00

People think its hard getting into Grad school - dealing with GRE, applying, purposing and all that muck; they should try getting out.

(Is this the part where I apologize for not blogging as often as I should have? Later? OK.)

So in these three weeks, I have

- been tortured by the fact that I am a G4 status graduate student. It is the most annoying/senseless status assigment I've ever come across. So the way this "works" is, if you have completed 24 credits and are currently taking 9 credits per semester, you are G4 status. If you are still doing those 24 credits, then you are G3. You can graduate when you are in G3 but not when you are in G4 (with a Masters, that is). Technically, the more credits I have, the more I must have to graduate (I need 56 for a Phd :|).

- gotten addicted to Ma No Pa. When I am with company that might not appreciate the brilliance of U Shrinivas, I wait till they leave. I pray that they leave soon so that I can listen to Zakir's and Selvaganesh's rhythmic geniuses. And the minute they step out of the car, I quickly direct my quivering hands to turn on the stereo and thank McLaughlin for making this happen. All of my labmates have had to yell to get my attention because I had it full blast on my iPod. (I'm totally iEverything since the arrival of my Macbook).

- been told that I am having too much fun at work: "You have to enjoy working, not enjoy at work." Thanks Eugene. You Jewish Chinaman, you.

- wondered what'd happen if I didn't know Science. Since nothing is happening when I know it, I guess nothing would happen if I didn't know it.

- signed up for Facebook and regretted it almost immediately.

- had someone change the gear on my car to neutral accidentally when I was waiting at a traffic light. When it turned green, there was some serious honking and I practically stood on the pedal to get the damn machine moving. Then everyone behind me started going around my car, one profanity per car being hurled at me until I realized the car was in neutral.

- gazed longingly at this amazing tweed coat for an embarassing length of time and for the umpteenth time wished there was as much money in science as there is in computers/finance. :( But Wall Street is so hahaha now that I am actually happy for science.

- been asked by someone to write a blog or else to stop changing my status on GTalk. :P

(I suppose this gives me clearance to change my status)

- realized that if either of these men were single, then all my problems would come to an end instantly.

(Is now OK? No? Fine.)

Though I've been told a gazillion times that I am actually less busy than I project myself to be, this time I really was busy. Really. Pinky swear.

Color: Army green

Song: Giriraja Sudha

(Now is it okay to apologize? You understand? Really? OK Thanks. By-bye)

Anonymuse.

2008-09-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

So I use Yahoo! Messenger. And actually used to prefer it over Gtalk for a lot of reasons.

a) The emoticon range.

b) The invisiblity mode.

c) Categorizing friends.

d) Webcam usage.

and so on.

Recently, Gtalk caught up with a and b (though my mom keeps asking me why I put a blue colored colon and bracket after some line), while c and d still remain to be solved. Now I use both programs. About a month back a friend told me one could find out if someone is invisible in yagoo! (the way I say it, becaas of the saauth yinndian aakksent you knoo vaa?) here. And I use it from time to time to detect friends who I need to talk to ASAP(Gossip must spread like wildfire, do you know what the speed of wildfire is? Do you?!), or to check if my best friend is hiding from me(his fiance really hates me :D) etc.

So one fine day in my pathetic grad life, I was sitting around lazing in my post-doc free office, contemplating stealing the Jap's coffee powder to make some stimulant that could get me to work. I was as usual signed into every messenger installed on my laptop (READ: lifeline). I stealthily closed the door to the office and in true grad student fashion, I stole coffee powder (Hideyuki, if you are reading this, I am sorry and I'll make more competent cells to make up for it) and made the beverage (potability: average). Finally when some neurons in the corner of my grad mind were jerking awake and cursing me for the untimely stimulation, the strangest thing happened on my laptop screen. In quick succession, three people BUZZed me on yagoo!, none of who I knew. I ignored the first two.

The third one was persistant and BUZZed me three times. I was getting curious about how these guys chose random ids so I engaged in the following conversation.

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:30:19 PM): who are you

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:30:28 PM): i am williams

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:30:32 PM): frm australia

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:30:42 PM): really

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:30:43 PM): flight engineer by profession

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:30:52 PM): how abt u?

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:30:52 PM): and how did you find my id ?

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:31:10 PM): i found it from persiangap.com

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:31:15 PM): i found it from www.persiangap.com

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:31:29 PM): is that ur pic in avatar?

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:02 PM): persiangap?

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:06 PM): i have never heard of the site

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:12 PM): i cant see how oyu foiund my id there

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:21 PM): *you

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:32:22 PM): just check it urself u can find out

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:32 PM): never mind

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:37 PM): i think we're done in this conversation

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:32:39 PM): good bye

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:32:44 PM): ur pic appeared there

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:32:52 PM): i liked it so i added u up

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:33:22 PM): i am sorry, but that doesn't help at all. i refrain from adding people i actually know .

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:33:35 PM): ahh its okey no probs

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:33:41 PM): may i know ur asl pls

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:34:06 PM): what is asl

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:34:16 PM): hmm age,sex,loc

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:34:43 PM): i see no need to share that information with you

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:34:51 PM): ahh okey

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:34:54 PM): bye

Deepu (9/4/2008 6:34:55 PM): bye

george_williams95 (9/4/2008 6:35:01 PM): #:-S

(I do find it stupid that I didn't know what asl was. I remember knowing it at some point of time in my life :|)

So after the "Flight engineer" explained, I went to the website. I really don't know how it functions, this invisibility finder. My surmise is that it is a cousin of the one I use. Every time someone uses their website, the profile of the person whose status they are checking is flashed. So someone was checking if I was online. And the irony is that I was not even invisible. :| Nonetheless, I think it would do us a lot of good to keep away from such website and let invisible people be. I take an oath to never use an uncloaking site again (except for detecting best friends with cuckoo fiancees and co-mongers). Amen.

On a totally different note using an entirely different music scale, a junior of mine got married (!!) and I was looking at her wedding pictures. One of their well-wishers (literally) had the following to say,

M: made of each other, well wishes!

I yamm suure they yarre Mr.M, I yamm suuure.

Color: Blue

Song: As time goes by

Three lame mice.

2008-08-26T08:23:00.000-07:00

See how they run.
See how they run.

I wait for a social event. In the social event, I wait for an interesting discussion. During the discussion, I wait for conflicting opinions. Once the conflicting opinions are stated, I wait for an accusation.
And then the games begin!

Ten questions I have been asked recently.

Who is your favorite God?
A: Krishna. He made flirting and lying legitimate.

Is it possible to love two people at the same time?
A: As long as you are willing to accept the outcomes*, sure.
(*of the declarations - added after considering Saffy's comment)

What if the guy you are with is monogamous?
A: I doubt any guy truly is. And if he is, then he wouldn't be my guy.

Would you eat something even if you didn't know what was in it?
A: Depends on how hungry I am.

What do you think YUI stands for?
A: Yahoo User Interface?
(Turns out the person was aiming for FYI but made a typo. I am yet to figure out how he messed up that bad.)

Arranged marriages must be really interesting, no?
A: Define interesting.

Why do I meet all the cute guys after I get a boyfriend?
A: Some says it is time testing your "loyalty". Some think its dumb luck. I think it doesn't matter before or after!

If you don't have sequence information, how do you plan to design primers?
A: Errr... umm....

When do you think you'll have the money ready?
A: Err... umm....

Do you think its a good idea to get into graduate school?
A: Err... umm....

The first question led to a discussion about Judaism and Christianity. The second and third was from someone who was trying to understand how polygamy is possible. The fourth was from my roommate who is on IV-coke on our way to dinner. The fifth was from some arbitrary argument with some arbitrary friend of a friend on some arbitrary picture. #6 from a German friend. The seventh is from Ms.IV-coke again, who recently hooked up (congratulations!) and is considering requesting an open relationship (way to go Chick!). Number eight from my omniscient Jap post doc. Nine and ten have been asked so many times I've lost count. Most recently from someone we're buying a car from (#9) and a poor French undergraduate student in my lab (#10).

I think I am largely satisfied with my haul this week.

Color: Fuchsia (I was thinking of one other word that begins with FUC when we play quarter-gone)
Song: You've got me all tied up in knots.. and I love you lots and lots (I can't find the link to this song or remember who it was by :( )

Seeds of time

2008-08-22T12:26:00.001-07:00

Okay. So in the last few days I've received a considerable amount of feedback on my blog post about China's political attitude. Mostly in personal conversations than on the blog itself. But the best argument was with my roommate.

It began with something like-
"I can't believe you let Assaf get away with the Kashmir comment."

It thus ended-
"A part of me believes that it would have actually done us some good if we didn't get Independence (so early)."

I am not pro-Pakistan, I am not anti-Kashmir. I love my country and I want to do my bit for its society (that needs a LOT of work, btw). But I am trying to play spectator here and spot if India is doing to Kashmir what China is doing to Tibet/Taiwan.

Thoughts?

Color: Rose
Song: Tamizha tamizha

Saved by the bell.

2008-08-20T09:08:00.000-07:00

The Kite Runner is a must read book. Khaled Hosseini has used the simplest of words to convey the most complex emotions in their purest form. One such emotion is betrayal. (Sorry for being a spoiler) In the book, when the protagonist, Amir, watches his best friend being molested, he walks away without doing anything simply because he is terrified to intervene and is guilt-stricken for the rest of his life. That chapter of the book shook me completely and Hemangini's post here got me writing this post.

Sexual abuse is more common that we all think it is. Cold Spring Harbor labs had its own "Sexual harrassment awareness" program which is mandatory for all new employees. In the program, they say that Sexual harrasment is subjective and sometimes arise out of cultural divides like that between the oriental and occidental parts of the world. An inappropriate joke, an uncalled for hand gesture or even something as simple as shutting the door with only you and someone else in the room can be perceived as harrassment. But the kind of harrassment that is most violating and revolting is physical. Rape is a superlative of this kind of harrassment but "feeling up" incidents are more common.
I was eighteen at the time it happened. I never found the strength to talk about this with anyone until a few days back. It was Hemangini's post that I found here which nudged me to finally discuss the incident with Shri. I was on a bus from Bangalore to Chennai and I was harried enough even before the journey began. My uncle who dropped me off at the bus station ensured that I was sitting next to a lady before he left. Later that night though, the lady switched seats with another man so that she could sit with her husband. I didn't pay much attention to it since all I wanted to do was sleep. I drifted off to an uncomfortable slumber soon enough, only to be woken up twice again. The first time, I woke up because I thought I felt someone touch me. I shuffled about a little in the confinement of my seat, attributed my waking up to the jerks of the bus and closed my eyes in wait of sleep. The second time I woke up from my semi-consciousness was when I felt someone touch my breasts. I waited for a moment to make sure that this wasn't a figment of my imagination. It wasn't. The guy in the next seat was definitely feeling me up and I was disgusted and angry enough to slap him.
I regret not doing that even today.

The only reaction my brain offered at the time was to stand up, which was pretty hard considering the legroom available in Indian buses, and without looking at the man (who sat unabashed and unmoving) I squeezed past him to the conductor to ask if there was anywhere else I could sit. And when he asked me why, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the real reason so I mumbled a lie about some noise and not being able to sleep. He said there isn't another vacant seat so I made my way back to the 2x2 hell I had paid three hundred rupees for and sat upright and alert for the rest of the journey. My molester eventually fell asleep. The rest of the night, I wondered if he was even slightly guilty about what he did.
To this day, I regret not raising a ruckus. I regret not complaining to the conductor. I don't know if it would have done me any good then, but I would have been at peace now that I tried to put a woman groping a-hole in his place. Perhaps I could have saved other girls from being violated.

Do such men reason with themselves about what they are doing or did? I don't know if there is one straight solution to this problem. But I do know that a lot of women are subject to this and they don't speak out. Why? I don't know. Maybe because we were taught to be submissive and run away from trouble. If the same thing happened to me today, I'd make sure the guy regretted it every bit. I wouldn't hesitate kicking him in the nuts (pardon the indecency) if I could. It is aggravating to see the effect such incidents have on women's lives. My landlady's sister was harassed on the subway and she was so shaken that she quit her job in the city and moved to Long Island. She was a successful lawyer in a big firm, confident and well-read. For the first 3 weeks after the incident, she walked around the house like a pale ghost barely speaking more than ten words a day. She now works in the city again but drives there and avoids taking the train whenever she can.

I am not sure if it would be sexist to say that its more common that women get molested as opposed to men. I don't have a significant data set to conclude that. The internet seems to suggest that. Either way, this is a site that everyone who has a such an experience must visit. The others should take a look as well. We talk about woman empowerment and reserving seats & rights for women in my country where there are filthy hypocrites such as my molester walking free. I can't and don't want to find anything other than the molester himself to blame such behavior on. Not even my favorite scapegoat, society.

Color: Blind
Song: Blank noise

Asking for it.

2008-08-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

Politics and I have never gotten along well. I have never felt the need to read the paper or watch the news to find out more about who is running my country or any other. And hence my knowledge of politics is equal to that of a eight year old who can name the Prime minister, the President and other important heads (I wouldn't be surprised if I got even those wrong, I discovered only ten minutes back that Gordon Brown was the Prime minister of England).

Given that deliverance, China's political attitude pisses me off. No, wait. That could be an unfair generalization.
The political attitude of the Chinese people I know pisses me off. It infuriates me to the point of wanting to slap them back to their senses but the Father of my country taught me non-violence (I know something). Every Chinese person I know has this condescending know-it-all tone when they talk about Taiwan and Tibet. They think both those "pieces of land" belong to them and that they hold no significance or meaning by themselves. I've even witnessed statements like "Taiwan is just a game piece between Japan and China." and "The Tibetans will not survive without us."
It is not easy for Taiwanese and Chinese to travel between the two countries. (It doesn't solve anything at all if you cordon off your geographical boundaries. If you want to stop co-operating with another government simply because they didn't succumb to you, then you need to go to political kindergarten.)
Displaying the Tibetan flag is banned and is a punishable offense in China. (This may sound dramatic but I have a friend who's uncle runs shelters in Tibet for children. These children are ill-treated (READ: have eyes poked out) by the Chinese locals for petty crimes that were poverty-driven.)

The last I discussed about this was yesterday night with an Israeli and a Taiwanese. Like the Taiwanese so graciously pointed out, we're all allowed to have different political views. She also went on to say that they (Chinese) are educated to think that way. (The Israeli said just one word, Kashmir.) But no, the purpose of education is not to make you think a certain way. We are educated to make us aware of the facts and ways of the world so that we can form opinions for ourselves about what is acceptable and not. Our generation is often talked about as the one that is open-minded and advanced. We often criticize our parents' generation for being single-minded, conservative and not progressive in their views (especially of dating, sex etc). Then why don't the current generation of Chinese (that I know) extend that progressive logic to the way their country is handling political issues? Why don't they see that Taiwan is happier without their constant hovering about and Tibet doesn't want to be run by them?

The world is organized into countries because we all have different cultures and views and it is easier to govern a similar group of people within a certain geographical reach. That is all there is to a country. Patriotism and national pride are not about yes-bossing to your country's views. It is simply about being happy that you are from wherever and you are happy indulging in your culture. That's that. Developing prejudices (like India and Pakistan) and going on a power trip (like China and USA) will never make sense to me, political or otherwise.

NYC is mon amour.

Color: Saffron
Song: Calabria

Social b(l)inds.

2008-08-17T12:15:00.000-07:00

Note: This post is partly Nikhil's opinions that are now mine too.

Nature is a blanket term for scientific jargon and a bourgeois word for the 'world around us'. Either way we tend to generalize and make patterns of the "natural" happenings around us and thus the term unnatural is born. Some people think homosexuality is unnatural and some even think Michael Phelps getting eight golds is unnatural. While I don't have such important opinions, there is one such thing that I feel isn't natural. Monogamy.

Monogamy is just a social norm, a limit that is put to maybe test the character of a person. But definitely not something that is natural. It is a choice that has a lower rate of occurrence in the XY population. I am not questioning anyone's fidelity here, I am just saying I know a lot of people who would be much happier when the imposition of just-one-partner is lifted. My sample size is definitely not small and my views are mostly unbiased. For the smallest and silliest of things we borrow examples from animals. Intelligence, loyalty, organization and other blah things. When I hear the frequently abused phrase "Even animals..." I want to ask back a lot of questions. I bite my tongue and let it pass because I know my argument is rarely well-received.
When some say Nature didn't notarize homosexuality, do they also agree that Nature completely votes for polygamy? Monogamy is something society designed to make a more peaceful state and its on the same lines as religion ~ a way to be able to control your emotions. I know of people who force themselves to be monogamous. Some can't control their emotions and "cheat". We waste no time in pointing an accusatory finger at the "cheat" without even pausing to think if what he did is unnatural at all.
I'm not against monogamy nor for it. Its a preference that you can either have or not. And just like other preferences, you respect people's choices and let them be.
Vive y deja vivir!

Color: A meterosexual yellow (I pity the meterosexual man for the effort he puts into his image and bearing the disatrous side-effects, if any)
Song: Pappu can't dance saala

They have pills for this kind of thing.

2008-08-15T10:50:00.000-07:00

I've had more remarks about my blog in the last one week than I've had in the last year.

What is www.twobananas.blogspot.com?
~Balu being his usual "creative" self.

Dude, you write about July the 4th but not about Aug 15th. You have no patriotism. You suck.
~ Ashwin who is convinced that I am all pro-American and irrevocably westernized.

So you are looking at matrimonial ads finally.
~ Nikhil's opening comment in the seemingly long discussion about marriage and its uselessness.

You keep saying you write well, but no one comments on your blog. Do you think something is wrong?
~Someone who really thinks writing and I don't fuse well. That I just try to turn just about anything into a blog post. (Now why would he think that?)

If grad life is injury, blogging is the added insult. I take up both voluntarily with a masochistic attitude that never fails to make me laugh. They say there are pills for this kind of thing.
Really, there are.

Really.

Color: Blank
Song: Blank

Furcht.

2008-08-14T16:09:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've been reading a lot of matrimony ads. Strictly for entertainment. This change in my humor preferences is a direct result of the fact that I am bored of PhD comics and am almost done watching all episodes of South Park.
Anyway, people use silly adjectives to describe their candidate or to describe what they'd like in a candidate. I mean no insult to their intelligence or their language skills. But don't you try to think of the many different ways in which a reader can interpret it your "ad", given that the reader is most probably a 24-30 year old? Mabye I'm being nitpicky and just trying to make a blog post out of nothing. But I want to know why matrimonial ads mostly begin with a 'WANTED'.
Wanted? Really? It makes me think of a mugshot of an unshaven dude in striped PJs holding up a number plate.
Well-educated. Who isn't? Every T, D and H has a Masters from the States. Every Gita, Sita, Anitha has a Bachelors with "excellent scores". How about something like she can converse in 3 international languages? Now that is something I'd proudly put in a matrimonial ad.
God-fearing. Now don't get me wrong on this one. My theistic orientation is perfect (by my standards) and I'm a total believer. But why would a normal person fear God? Believe maybe, but fear? I'm inclined to think that only someone who's wronged would fear God. What does that say about the candidate? (Don't give me that look, I am just the average reader).
Slim, fair, good looking. That is just as informative as Well-educated. Would be more convincing if you attached a picture, no?

My expectations are high perhaps. But hey, if we're using computers to draw squares and predict horoscopes, don't the matrimony ads have to catch up?

My favorite matrimonial strip so far reads: Looking for a smart, understanding and a helpful housemate.
Ironically, this is what I would put on craigslist if I were gay (no offense to my homosexual friends) and was looking for a partner. Is there any such profession as a matrimonial ad drafter? If there is, I want it. If there isn't, maybe I should be the first one. Our newspapers and matrimony websites could really use my services.

Aaah, yet another day in grad life. Yet another imaginary alternative career.

Color: Maroon
Song: Ghita (Cleopatra Stratan)

Not the difference.

2008-08-03T10:16:00.000-07:00

Why? is more than a question.
It is a rhetoric, an evasion tactic, a way of life and the umbrella under which all other questions take shelter.

Why not? is more than a question too.
It is inspirational exclamation, an accusative statement and the umbrella under which all unconvincing answers take shelter.

Color: Blue
Song: Kangal irandal

Endurance

2008-07-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

I've never lost to temptation simply because I never fight it. Especially the one to be sarcastic. Humor is not my thing at all. Sarcasm is the dull, blunt sword I use to cut through stupid or humor-requiring or awkward moments. But something tells me I am overdoing it. Maybe my friends actually believing what I say as a sarcastic response is indicative that my delivery royally sucks.

A conversation between Ann and me:-

"Dude, what are you wearing?"

"Me?" (Which is a silly question considering that we're the only ones in the room)

"No dude, not you. The invisible man behind you who's my fashion guru."

"Really?" (Whips around to see if someone is actually there, again a silly move considering that the man is supposed to be invisible)

This is when it occured to me that maybe I am not getting the intonation right. Maybe the sarcasm has saturated my dialogues so much that people are actually failing to notice it. Its almost insulting to have someone not detect the sarcasm and doubly so when they don't see the intended humor in it.
It hurts, it really does.

I dream... I dream of a better world... where chickens can cross roads and not have their motives questioned.

Color: Orange
Song: Dum diddy do

Pardon the parallax please.

2008-07-21T08:28:00.000-07:00

I've had the most interesting weekend with the most interesting group of people. Seven of us, six different countries. And I can certify that India, China, Taiwan, Germany, Italy and Korea get along incredibly well. :D
Communication is not a problem thanks to English. But then I'm amazed at a German's ability to take a simple word and contort it into something that sounds like a guy with bronchitis breaking into a cough while gargling. Case in point: the German "version" of the name Charles is a sound similar to Khhhaazvlksjghz. Until then, German was a cool language. Germany was a cool country. German cars were awesome. German dudes were desirable. German dessert was the awesomest.
Post-Khhhaazvlksjghz, my entire fascination with Germany has turned into a focused effort of trying not to spit/spray/bathe-neighborhood-with-saliva when speaking the language. It's warfare, I tell you. Sheer brilliance. In those concentration camps, they probably put the guy in a pit and spoke German to him for 10 minutes and the guy drowned in saliva.

No offense to any German reading this. I still largely adore the country and hope to visit it some day. But please pardon the parallax generated when I'm learning your father tongue. :)

Ich liebe dich!

Color: Black, red and yellow :D
Song: Du hast

PIc your words

2008-07-11T10:25:00.000-07:00

I distinctly remember this free physics class on a Wednesday when I was in first year of college. We were each asked to speak for five minutes about someone who had inspired us, whose contributions to the world we thought significant and important. Two weeks before that Wednesday, I had read an article in Reader's Digest about how much the scientific world had progressed fifty years since the discovery of the double helix in 1953. There was also a short interview with James Watson. I'd never had a hero before, someone I wanted to be like, but James Watson had impressed me. I scribbled some notes before I went behind the podium and gave a short talk about James Watson, what he had done and how much of an impact it had had on science, and on me.

Four years later, as a graduate student, when I first stepped on to the campus of Cold Spring Harbor Labs and someone told me that James Watson lived down Bungtown road, I was hyper. I frequently spotted the Nobel laureate in the Winship bar, in post-doctoral candidate seminars, sometimes asking questions I never understood and once a while driving around in his shiny car. Over the next one year, the image of the hero I portrayed in my five minute extempore those years back slowly degenerated into a senile old man with no regard for others' feelings. Maybe I judge him too harshly, but that is all that I have witnessed of this great scientist.

Political correctness is one thing, but to outrightly shun races, call someone unintelligent and make random conclusions from non-existent data is plain unacceptable. The first digression from the image was when I realized that the questions he asked in the seminars were not non-understandable, they were irrelevant. The statements he made about African people being less intelligent and that having a possible genetic explanation were shoddy and utterly baseless. But what triggered me to write this post was mostly what he said at a recent URP meeting (Undergraduate Research Program). I don't know if my writing my opinions on my blog is politically incorrect (PIc). But I suppose they aren't any more PIc than what Jim Watson had to say as an answer to some of the questions the URPs asked him. Totally unrelated to what the questions was (as the URP related to me) Watson actually announced that~
"Nothing good has come of Asia in the last 2000 years."

Unless someone was buried underground with ear plugs on and a frozen brain, they wouldn't make a statement like that. If I quote too many examples it would sound like I am defending my continent. I've had to defend India under many circumstances, especially from people who have this image of my country as a place that has elephants and snakes all over the streets and dancers swaying to music all day long. But since most of us know what Asia as a continent means to the rest of the world, I'll just state what I think is the recent biggest achievement in science. Yamanaka's reprogramming of differentiated cells into stem cells is a wow paper that everyone doing science must read.
That said, I am in need of a new role model. My boss is someone I hope to be like when I am his age. Dignified, extremely brilliant, passionate, respected and loved.

Go NKT!

Jelly fish smoke trails :)

2008-07-10T12:34:00.000-07:00

Lovely golden cascades exploded in the skies well synchronized with Star Spangled banner but there wasn't one American-looking person in sight. The fourth of July celebrations always leave me in awe of patriotism in the States. I was just reading the post I wrote on last years gala. Last year I was watching the Macy's fireworks over the Manhattan skyline from a State Park in NJ. This year was at Jones Beach, equally spectacular.
Patriotism in India (in my view) is a solemn and revered concept. We stand in silence when the Anthem plays, and there is something soulful about it. I'm not saying its not in the States but it comes across as a more joyous occasion here. A loud, colorful parade of who they are, and how important they are to the world. It almost makes me want to say they are smug, but they aren't there yet. They know the power they have over the rest of the world and they know the power the rest of the world has over them. It's a fine balance act that they are doing now.

Still, standing there with thousands of immigrants watching America's finest fireworks light up the night sky and leaving behind the most interesting smoke trails (jelly fish people chasing each other), I couldn't help but think that if this was my country's jubilee, then I'd have cried a little for all those who fought for our freedom and made it possible for India to be.

Jai Hind!

Organ-ization

2008-07-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

I personally dread lab meetings. For many reasons, starting with having to exhibit attention and interest in work at 9.30 on a sleepy Wednesday morning. It is even worse if you are the one presenting. You know everyone has a calculator in the back of their heads, punching away at who has more data, if the data (or lack thereof) is acceptable, if the boss is going to approve of it, watching for any slips. And you have to fight all these mental odds, keep composure and seem like you know what you are talking about.
I know my labmates would laugh if they read this post saying - nah, no one is doing that. We're all here to learn.
Yes, I agree. We are all here to learn. But there is always an invisible race. Always the pressure to perform. I see my peers worrying sick because their bosses don't push them and I almost want to tell them that its good that they don't have it. :D
But nothing makes you work harder until you sync your footsteps to the clicks on that calculator.
Nothing rings in your head like your boss asking "So, whats happening with your experiments?".
Nothing motivates you as much as a colleague's successful lab meeting.
And nothing depresses you as much as the miserable failure of yours. :|

Lab meetings must be made illegal else they must be offered with free pills or an option to be institutionalized.

Epiphany

2008-07-01T11:37:00.000-07:00

Irony. Most writers strive to have it in their text, but it comes to you naturally.

Lines from a book I read recently that left me pondering about a lot of things in life. If what I do makes sense given the things that are plaguing the rest of the world, if what I do even makes sense to me, if I should consider career alternatives that make more sense in the "political world" and others on similar lines.

For as long as I remember, nothing but science has intrigued me. The only books I can't put down are fiction, old English literature, non-fiction, biographies and biology textbooks. The thing they all have in common is the question - how does the story end? Which is why I thought I'd be alright in science. Because that is what scientists do, find story endings. And those endings start off new stories whose endings need to be found and that is what people mean when they say "I've a career in science".
I thought I could have a career in science. I was reasonably good at math and to some extent gifted with languages. But I still chose science. And I've never wondered until today if I made a mistake.
Grad school does that to you I guess. Makes you second guess your choices. But its also probably an unfair generalization. I've seen people be humbled by grad school and people who've used it as a stepping stone to get to better places and do bigger things in life.
It depends on who you are and who you are with.
If you are motivated and capable of learning on your own, then you'll survive no matter where. Then grad school is just a building to you that gives you a degree.
If you are motivated but need a teacher, then it depends on who you are with. If that person is willing to teach you even when you are stupid, then you'll make it out of grad school unscathed. If they are busy and expect you to raise yourself, then you'll start a blog worrying if you made the wrong career choices. :)

More on grad life coming up!

Un sirippinil...

2008-06-05T07:37:00.000-07:00

You meet me only in my memories
This feeling is a step short of happiness.
Love is an umbrella we hide behind
From the other things the world calls us.

Unforeseen circumstances. How many times have we heard that in airport lobbies, concert shows... countless disappointments. I think that expression sums up my entire life - unforeseen circumstance. Every time I wash my palette and add new colors, an unwashed brush shows up and dips itself in every one of those colors and changes the hue. I don't know what life sees in me that it picks up every stray problem and makes it mine to handle.

What are you doing?

He hastily shut his book. She gave him a mildly amused curious look.

Writing?

Yeah.

She waited for more explanation.

Its not ready for others to read.

Its always ready honey, you aren't.

He smiled that smile of his. An extraordinary smile on an ordinary face. Sunlight lost in his unkempt black hair. It was a moment of absolute bliss. She curled up on the chaise with a crappy book. He never understood her taste in reading. She could do so much better. He'd politely recommended some books he thought she would like. She'd read them but never said a word to him about how she liked them. He felt inadequate, like he wasn't doing something right. She could make a meal without asking him and it would be exactly what he wanted. A mother-like quality. She was not perfect, yet she was.

He flinched and instinctively shuddered at that word. Mother. That words pulled some cord in the region where he thought his heart was. His mind thought of it as a silken twisted rope that when tugged brought in a barrage of pain and flooded his mind with dark murky memories. He looked at her, peaceful in her yellow smiley t-shirt. She looked up and smiled at him.
The cord tugged.
He pulled the blinds and found a place next to her on the chaise, buried his head in her hair and fell asleep almost instantly.

(Scene IV from the Departure of Happiness)

There is no such thing as true love.

Color: Peach
Song: Ami je tomar

Parihaasamo.. en mel paridhaabam illayo?

2008-05-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

When she talked to him, she was sure. She was sure that this was the only way it could be. For his life and hers. A child out of wedlock was unacceptable. Unimaginable, he had said. It would ruin both their lives.
But the first free minute her mind found, a different spool of thought unwound itself. She tried to think of ways she could "solve the problem".

Maybe mom will understand. Probably not. Maybe brother? He would understand. But what could he do? Its not money I need. Not support. I don't even know what is stopping me. Some invisible knot ties me to his future. His college. His life. It was a not a sacrifice, but a sensible decision. But of what good is a sensible decision if it takes away all that makes sense in my life? There have been achievements before. Plenty. But this was different. This feeling of wholeness. Of finding an anchor... this warm heaviness.

She put lay on the bed and put her cellphone on her belly. As if on cue, it started vibrating.

Does that tickle you, my love?

She sighed and answered it.

Where are you?

Home.

You're at home? Its 4 in the afternoon.

I got done with work early.

Okay.

Thirty seconds of silence.

Whats for dinner?

I don't know. Anything.

You want to go out?

No. I'll figure something out.

Okay. I'll be back at 6.

See you then.

Hmm... anything you want to tell me?

Nothing in specific.

Rest up. I'll find a cab for Saturday morning. The train is too much of trouble. I'll be home at six and we'll cook together. Or even better, I'll cook.

Okay. I'll see you then.

You seem to be in a hurry to hang up. What is wrong?

Nothing about this is right. That is what is wrong.

He sighed audibly. It irritated her. She tried not to show it.

Okay, I won't go there. I'm going to get the laundry done. Do you want me to do yours?

Please rest. I'll take care of that stuff.

I'm not dying of cancer. I'll be fine doing the laundry I think. Again, do you want me to do yours?

Its okay. I have another week to go.

Okay.

Bye. Take care.

I will. Bye.

She flipped the phone close. She usually hated hanging up. She always waited till she heard the click on the other end. A habit from those late night conversations with her ex. When they would argue about who would hang up first... child play. Maybe he noticed. He probably wouldn't have. He never paid attention to minor details. He said they didn't matter.

They mattered.

It mattered that Saturday was Mother's day.
It would matter that there would be people standing there with posters to tell her what a big mistake she was making. Protesting the "cruelty".
It would matter that she would in the coming years, remember exactly what she wore, how that old man who handed her the pamphlet looked, how that taxi guy sneered at them.
It would matter, that she would wake up 4 hours later feeling empty. Empty and exhausted. And would find him sitting in the living room talking to his fiancee about their wedding plans.

(Scene III from the Departure of Happiness)

Color: Gray
Song: Mokshamu galada (Madras Quartet)

This prolonged ruthless silence...

2008-05-19T08:04:00.000-07:00

Its like a Star Wars movie. It makes absolutely no sense, but you watch it, you like it... in fact, you watch it again.

That is what it is like to be in love.
Its like watching a Star Wars movie.

To be able to take in all the senseless details, to actually cherish them.
To realize the irrelevance of it all to everyday life but still crave it.
To get lost in those dreams of the future and actually sculpt a part for yourself.

Color: Black (though its not really a color)
Song: Wonder wall

Velan ennai eno marandhan...

2008-05-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

Every woman has a certain expectation of how things will unfold when she realizes she is a mother-to-be. How her husband would take her in his arms when she tells him, and the happiness on his face would uncontrollably spill into loving words, the way she would blush and he would say she looks more beautiful than ever. Words cannot describe that feeling sufficiently. Its tangibly magical.

Hers was filled with uncomfortable silence. A ten minute deliberation of how this was even possible followed by a single question.

What do we do now?

And the expected,

I'll find a doctor.

After about 20 rounds of Google and phone calls, an appointment was made to "clear" the problem. 500$ to clear the most beautiful thing that ever happened to her.
He didn't take her in his arms.
He didn't kiss her on the forehead and say "I love you. Thank you for making me so happy.".
There was no joy in his eyes.
The second offering of conversation was another question.

Are you okay?

I will be. I need to take a shower.

~~The water on my skin felt warm though I'd set the shower to cold. I looked down at my belly. Was there a swelling? I ran my hand over it, wishing that it would somehow penetrate the skin to stroke my child's yet-to-grow hair. In that yellowed shower, on that Saturday afternoon, I lost myself in a day dream. Of how my beautiful son, black hair wispy in the wind, translucent skin near the temples, cheeks pink from running in the park, would find me on a bench, reading a book. How I would stroke his soft arm and ask him if he was cold , hand him a jacket. Little fingers clutching mine, walking back home, refusing to be carried like a baby ~~

A sharp knock snapped her back to reality and the cold water stung momentarily before it washed the dream away.

"Are you done yet? I need to run by the office."

"Be out in a minute."

(Scene II from the Departure of Happiness)

Happy Mother's day.

Color: Baby blue
Song: Eru mayil eri vilayadum mugam ondru

Inebriated.

2008-05-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

I was woken up by a strangely familiar smell. Hair? Clothes? Comforter? Sheets? The feeling doesn't go, even long after brushing and a shower. A nostril implant? Ickie.

Tissue, paint, music, shoes, pictures and sweaters later, I still feel it. I turn up the music. Put away the paint. Hide the shoes and the sweater. Put the picture face down. Clear up the tissue.

FOCUS.

(What IS that smell?)

A cup of tea brewed in my favorite way grows cold in my favorite mug. I don't need it to wake me up. The music prods something in me. Unburies some kind of revelry I didn't know I was capable of. It does it gently, not shovel-like, more like an archaeologist dusting a delicate piece. But the now surfacing vine refuses to tame, it thrashes aside the cell biology exam, the Khaled Hossaini, the new tube of Prussian blue... but the notes continue to shush it, whisper soothing words. The vine is turning into Jack's beanstalk, magical, wild, growing uncontrollably.
A sudden quiet.
Sivaranjini. A voice smooth as silk, rich as cream grips the vine with its lilting waves, gently but firmly. It disciplines that unruly child. Walks the periphery, soothes the convulsions. The vine shrinks, now a blade of grass. Slender, elegant, obedience personified. A long, drawn-out session of snake-charming.
Exhaustion never seems to come to the voice, its dessert-like quality never seems to fade, no matter how many times over I listen to it.
Maharajapuram Santhanam.

Song: Just play any kind of music, I can only hear one thing in my head now.
Color: Deep purple.

Oops!

2008-05-07T17:01:00.000-07:00

You are asking me to be what?

Careful. I'm asking you to be careful. Is that so hard?

Its not what you are asking me to be as much as the tone in which you are asking.

Tone? Now I have to watch my tone with you. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten-

Ha! Don't get me started on forgetting things. 28th October. 28th April.

Why must you dwell on EVERY BLOODY detail of life? And its not even comparable to what we were talking about. The world isn't your backyard to throw people around like that. To say things so flippantly. You'll have to pick up after yourself when you are being so reckless with words. Don't expect me to come cleaning up after you.

Its okay. I'll fight my own battles. I never needed anyone to pick up after me. I never asked you to. You simply did these things yourself to feed your ego into a nice plump chicken that you aren't willing to sacrifice now. Learn to talk to me without that chicken clucking in the back of your head and maybe I'll sound more clear.

Ego? You think I'm egoistic? Whoa. Where'd you learn such big words?

Its three letters and I've known them forever.

Alright. I give up. Don't talk to me again about this, ever.

Fine by me.

(Scene I from the Departure of Happiness)

Color: Mauve
Song: Cry me a river

Koinkydenki. (erstwhile Koinkydenky, as suggested by Regular Joe)

2008-05-04T09:43:00.000-07:00

Some battles in life are best fought alone, even if it means losing them. A smart price for finding people out. Here's a few pointers from my experiences as a lone warrior.

1. The ones who offer you support as your strength wanes are the ones who truly care. This is truer when more is at stake.

2. The ones who disappear before the battle even starts (for a cup of ice cream perhaps), are the ones you should have never befriended to begin with.

3. The ones who stand around the ring viciously smacking their greedy mouths for gossip are the ones you should take scavenging lessons from.

4. The ones who wait till its over, then come by and drop in a word of how you could have been better are willing to truly teach you. Learn from them.

5. The ones who are leaning so heavily on the cordons that they need restraining orders are the ones who usually rush in to pick you up the moment you fall. DON'T let go of them. Ever.

In my brief existence on this planet, I cannot have claim to completely or successfully know people. I'm naive to the point of stupidity and native to the point of wearing leaves.
But still, I believe, some battles in life are best fought alone.

Color: Red.
Song: Gori teri aankhein kahe

Hypochondriasis of guilt.

2008-05-01T16:08:00.000-07:00

You know guilt works?? Its a brilliantly designed system. With nuances that you never knew could be and tricks you never thought would be played. How it slowly sinks in. How it takes over everything. How there are constant reminders, some genuine and some imaginary. A state of extreme hypochondriasis of offense. How sly guilt is, oh, how sly.

Color: Black
Song: Anbe sugama?? Un Kovangal sugama??

Chidananda roopa

2008-04-11T11:29:00.001-07:00

I have drifted in and out of classical music quite whimsically in the last few years. I rarely am obsessed with any form of music or song for that matter. There is the occasional number that plays in my head for a while that I get over soon, but nothing more than that.
I happened to listen to this raag called Sohini by Veena Sahasrabuddhe. I was totally smitten by it. Its even better than Norah Jones' Come away with me that I can listen to all day and almost as good as Mora saiyan mose bole na by Fuzon. This finding prompted me to Google for her name (I must stop doing that with every new name that I come across :|. But you'll be surprised by how many new and fantastic things I dig out because of that compulsive habit). And the first link that Google regurgitated was an IITB link with my obsession on it - Nirvana Shatkam.

Veenatai for listeners Station 4808 at KIAC and IACmusic.com

The voice(s), the words, the raag, its a whirlpool draws me more to the center of it every time I hear it. I've worn out the CD in my car and had to write another one within a week. Blame it on the company, or on my music-starved brain or on my failing immunoblots, but this obsession is making Sideshow Bob look like a joke. :)

Color: Maroon(ed)
Song: Nirvana Shatkam :D

Serendipathy.

2008-04-07T10:34:00.000-07:00

(No, I haven't misspelt the word. It is that way for a certain reason)

A fortunate accident. I don't believe in destiny per se, but the movie always leaves me with a nice feeling. More like a reassurance that things happen for a reason. Raised in a family where the concept of God and religion are central to everyday life, its hard to avoid the compulsive thought of an external Factor (F capitalized with a reason) playing a part in deciding your "fate". I have had arguments and discussions about this Factor with people from different walks of life and I have enough opinions about it to write a book. My Factor is God. And when I say this to my colleagues, an inevitable smirk crosses their face. A scientist and you believe in God? Someone once even said that its like a vegetarian who claims to like the taste of meat. I don't know if its that ridiculous a proposition for someone who has to repeat an experiment 3 times to make sure its outcome is true, to actually believe in a force that is beyond without having any proof for it.
But I do have proof. My entire existence is proof.

Mann se Ravan jo nikaale Ram uske mann mein hai.

Color: Saffron
Song: Pal pal hai bhaari

Ome God (Read: Oh my God)

2008-03-20T17:59:00.000-07:00

The first ome I knew was Genome. Then there was proteome. Then Transcriptome. But today, I heard the most ridiculous ome ever. Interactome. What is with the ome fever? Do biologists really expect the world to keep up with all their 'omics'? Or is it just a little word game they play in their own arena?

Either ways, the madness much stop! Else its going to be one helluva Omeome. :|

Color: Pale yellow
Song: Kadha kaelu (MMKR)

All's fair in love and blog.

2008-03-17T12:01:00.001-07:00

After about an hour of frantic searching for the right words and phrases, she came up with an essay that described her life in ghory yet flowery detail. One hour from today was expensive considering how much real work she had left to do. She logged into Blogger to publish it. Created a new post. Titled it "All's fair in love and blog." Copy/pasted the text from Notepad. Read it. Re-read it. Paused for a second. And then with no indication of regret, deleted it all. Closed the Notepad file without saving it and didn't for a minute worry about the wasted effort.

Publish post.

Color: Angry
Song: We're all prisoners here of our own device.

Celibacy celibrated.

2008-03-13T11:27:00.000-07:00

Being a twenty-three something girl in my family is a dangerous occupation. Hovering grannies, curious aunts, suggestive uncles, cousins with heheitsyourturnnow-looks, a mother shushed and threatened with the possibility of her child joining the nunnery and a father who you think is on your side but is secretly doing all he can to locate your Mr.Perfect (irony!!!).
My mother has allowed herself to "slip" many a prospective groom profiles into our daily conversations. I hear her out for the free humor factor that comes along with it. At the end of each conversation I find new ways to drive her nuts about this, my favorite one being- Amma, I'll run away from home, I'm far enough to do it also.
This doesn't put her search to rest but makes her resolve to visit me in Yamerigga stronger and her search more careful. I think they have a qualification list that is growing with my everyday tantrums (...fair.. tall.. thenkalai.. must be patient... must bear with threats of running away from home... must like cauliflower enough to eat it everyday...).
I even have a standard explanation why I don't want to get married right now.
"My career is in a stage where I cannot handle these things. I need to FOCUS. Science is all I can think of right now. Another person (that too a man!!!) ( What do you mean that too a man???) in my life would triple the chaos and all that I have worked for will be in a whirlpool of confusion. And what really is the hurry? I am just 23."
There is a tsk..tsk.. and a heavy sigh which is communicated with crystal-clear moroseness (Reliance India Call obeys Murphy's law and is always noisy when I am trying to gather gossip about my undergrad classmates). I then lead the conversation into how pathetic my lab results are right now, how much pressure I am under (Oh come on!) and how I am blessed to have understanding parents who'll wait until I feel the need to be married. Yea yea whatever.
Bye Ma, I love you.
Time to watch Will & Grace.

Color: Lemon yellow
Song: Take it easy...

When two and two have to make five.

2008-03-04T14:18:00.000-08:00

My interest in breast cancer used to be very minimal. It has grown over the last few weeks owing to professional indulgences and some people I've chanced upon. One fights for the cause, one fights to make a living out of it and one fights it for real. I take a lot of pride in saying I am somewhat similar to the first couple of people. Well, actually, I haven't done much fighting for the cause other than put the ribbon on my blog (aaah, so that's what that is). But I am fighting to make a profession out of it. There is a tone of desperation to my last statement that is a direct result of my recent sub-mediocre performances. Even my blogging has been tainted as "just show off with english words from dictionary" which is rather heartbreaking and annoyingly funny. I've read some amazing blogs recently - The Goltese Falcon, Gounder Brownie (which was disappointingly destroyed by a stupid blog virus), All my bak-bak, (A)musings and one of my all time favorites Jyo's pensive. The feel good factor that I derive from these blogs is that they make me feel less guilty about not blogging as often. They also contribute to my graduate student pie-chart as drawn out by Jorge Cham and personalized to suit MY GENERAL INTERESTS.

(Click on the picture to enlarge. The original version is here)

Considering the amount of attention I give my blog, I would expect people to comment on the crappy language (I so often do that to myself). But now I'm all miss fancy pancy english dictionary. :D Warms my heart so. But my sincerest thanks to Vasanthi for quoting me.

Time to go back and try some of my new research (??!!) plans. Don't get any ideas, by new, I mean new to me. :D

Color: Pink (Go breast cancer fight!)
Song: Please forgive me (Bryan Adams)

Survival of the cutest.

2008-03-03T09:16:00.000-08:00

Darwin's re-proposal of the Evolutionary theory.

1. Variation: The amount of cuteness in every population varies.

2. Competition: Species compete amongst themselves and with other species for attaining the cutest possible mate.

3. Offspring: Some organisms have more cuteness than is necessary and may spill them over to their offspring. Results may vary.

4. Genetics: It was believed that cuteness is genetically inherited, but sufficient evidence has been provided to prove otherwise. Organisms are expected to pass on their cuteness to the next generation, but chances are that cross overs are unsuccessful.

5. Natural selection: Those organisms with the cutest traits are more likely to survive and reproduce. Survival of the cutest.

Evolution from a microscopic perspective is very different from the nutshell perspective. In a social environment, its not the most talented one that rises (there are exceptions), but the most tactful ones. If you want to evolve in academic environments, showing that you are working is more important than working itself. If you want to leave something behind for the next generation, its money - not pride, not values, not culture - but money. Thats the inheritance they'll need the most.
This is what Evolution means now.
And I am content being the cyanobacterium in this world.

Color: Cyan?
Song: Right here right now (Fatboy slim)

Pacifiers.

2008-01-15T00:19:00.001-08:00

Don't we all need one?
Hope, love, happiness, romance - flavors of the same spice. They're all pacifiers. Ways to put my mind in a place it wants. Something for the mind to chew on so it doesn't bawl and throw a tantrum. My all-time favorite pacifiers are humor and inspiration.
Friends are probably the best ever made. I refused to believe that I could have an impact on anyone's life until someone had a huge one on mine. I was very careful about what I said to people after that. I am less reckless with words than I used to be. I make sure I don't say the "right" things, but that I say the right things. A slight alteration of my persona is helping me gain more perspective about friendship than I ever had. My pragma is someone's pragmatic. My apparently inconsequential words are advice to someone. My love is someone's hope.
I am someone's pacifier.

Build hope that realworld can be the foundation of
Build hope that love can be the future of
Build hope that deceit can't conquer
Build hope that one failure can't quench

Color: Olive green
Song: Wherever you will go (The Calling)

p63 controversies.

2008-01-12T13:39:00.000-08:00

Welgum to newest matrimonial site- Orkut.
Fransip anyone? Any mother browsing through profiles for daughters-in-law? haaai cute pic plz add me as ur frand? Porno links? Add requests from complete strangers with weird profiles?

I am sure there are a lot of people who are on this ever-improving network to meet new friends, to look for new avenues and build new worlds. But there is a how and where of doing that.
Mr.Buyukkokten is still to device ways to prevent people from uploading nude pictures other than that feeble line when you sign-up. I know there is nothing much he can do other than request people. (It's almost like Nobel inventing dynamite. Except I doubt there will ever be a Buyukkokten prize. Ah, well, who knows?)

I've made some great friends through Orkut, read amazing blogs, discussed mundane and super-important problems but also displayed uniform disregard for scraps with zero-percent sense (English-wise or otherwise). I've been criticized about a lot of things before, but never about being mean to strangers. I consider myself a fairly polite person. Its not that I don't appreciate strangers scrapping me - but I would like to have a choice of wanting to reply or not. And I thought I did. Until my not replying became rudeness and then somehow escalated to the point of me having sky-high attitude. I do feel the need to explain myself to myself. I try to reason it with some googling about etiquette. Doesn't work. Too vague.
Blogging seems to be effective, reminding me that I reply promptly to all my generous commentators and am receptive to criticism (I really am!). I am almost tempted to apologize for the unreplied scraps. But a sensible lump of ego is sitting at the tip of my fingers, shooing the apology away, saying that I did nothing wrong. So be it.
Non-repliers unite!

Stay beautiful,

Dee.

(Wink at Nik, Suhasa, Jyo, Vinda)

Color: Red
Song: Sandiyare sandiyare!

A songbird lost in a winter storm.

2008-01-02T11:54:00.001-08:00

Obligations. They are like friction. There when you don't want them, and not where you need them.

The deaf orator.

2007-12-22T10:19:00.000-08:00

You can turn a deaf ear to what the world is saying. You can put on headphones and listen to loud music. But the world can still hear you. If you aren't saying anything, even then it listens to your silence. It makes meanings of the silence. It makes words out of quiet glances. It infers "practical" things from the aimless wanderings of a lost soul.
Sigh.
The world is full of wonderful sights. So much to admire and be in awe of. America , especially is so blessed with natural beauty. Not as much as Kerala, but almost comparable. Still so, even in such a well groomed country, when I stand at the train station, a poor old man whose fingers twitch involuntarily has more spectators than that beautiful moon over a leafless winter tree.

We could seek beauty in the smile of a flower
and feel compassion in the wide eyes of a grazing cow
But we choose instead to iron our hair
and pity a limping old man now.

Sigh. I am such a complain freak and so good at finding shortcomings in the world's behavior while still being a part of it and its flaws.
Those who say oxygen is gaseous are yet to meet you.

Color: Peach
Song: Enna satham indha neram

If.

2007-12-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

The smallest of words have the biggest of impacts when used in the right places.
A discontent IF.
A disdainful SO.
A disrespectful YES.

(Good God! If for every crappy post I wrote I was given a hundred bucks, I'd be free of all monetary debt by now)

Life has its ways in the end, in the beginning and everywhere in between. Its forcing me to grow up. It is shoving BIG things in front of me and yelling SEE THEM. It is talking a foreign language and blaspheming me for not understanding. I started out with a lot of faith in people and in my God. Faith is like money, if you spend too much of it too soon, then it will run out. If you invest it in the right places, then the dividends are munificent. Its a gamble. You can't play safe and you can't risk it.

If we could chose our thoughts
But not our words
If we could contain anger
But not love
If we could wipe out despair
As we would our tears
If we could accept instantly
And forgive faster still
If we could be content
And have some left to give
If laughter was as contagious
As is cynicism
If our minds could slow down
And our hearts pick up pace
It wouldn't be such a dark world
It wouldn't be such a small place.

Color: Grey
Song: Aazmaale

Womanly virtues.

2007-12-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

So we are here twelve days after this thought took genesis on bunk #22. We have been collaborating with bunk #26 for a while. But that isn't working as well as we thought it would.

I've had arguments with my male friends countless number of times on this one. Chauvinism or Chivalry? There is an agreed-upon list which I never compromise on. Even with strangers. It is a genetic thing, I think, for men to presume that their opinion/action has more formula weight than that of women. It is right there when they think they can lift that heavy box but I can't, that I am more prone to making a mistake while driving than they are, that they have to teach me HTML else I'll never learn, that it is simply not possible that I make more money than them.
90% of my friends will swear that they aren't so. They're just in denial. They'll come around. I might sound too critical and judgmental about it, maybe even to the point of generalizing things. But it is true. I am yet to meet a man who doesn't have that chauvinistic streak.

For every minute you are not in my thoughts,
There are a million only about you.
Love,
Deepu

Song: Ehi thaiyya
Color: Crimson

Fish traffic, Cat manners and Driving dodos.

2007-11-30T11:32:00.000-08:00

Bare necessities. That's all I have come to need. A friendly word is a luxury and love is an extravagance.
Barest necessities.

A beggar's gratitude and an ingrate child
A tamed tiger and a mouse so wild
Withered trees with melting snow
Beauty still has a long way to go.

Welcoming arms of a thrashing sea
Internal qualms within a calm-looking me
Sleepless nights on a feather bed
The color of blood is not always red.

Clinging cloying love so pure
Flawed and clawing love unsure
A diamond's brilliance going waste
Pickled thoughts not gaining taste.

~~~~~~

Color: Ink Blue
Song: Kanda vaa vaa (Sudha raghunathan)

5 PM FRI.

2007-11-12T22:26:00.000-08:00

Its 1.27 AM on a cold Tuesday morning.
You are alone in the lab.
You think yourself a nice person albeit blessed with a knack for annoying people sometimes.
You think you are extremely protective about the ones you love. You are also a rather fierce feminist. An aspiring scientist. You believe you have the five best men in America as your friends. They're your family you think. (Until someone asks "What family?") There is a lone man in India somewhere asking you why you haven't had dinner and that its going to give you ulcers.
Your mother wants to know why you haven't had the time to call home and that stirs some guilt. You ask if appa has gone to work. There is a smile in her voice when she relates what she made him for breakfast before he left. You sigh at the thought of a warm cozy home but tell her nothing.
Its 1.48 now.
None of your five best man have asked you where you are and why the hell aren't you home yet.
Now what does that say about all what you thought about yourself?
Get back to me in twenty two years and 357 days and I might have an answer.

Close to the End of DNA fragments.

2007-11-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

Thoughts wander in those dark lanes
Putting out lights in those neon streets
Washing the floor with black coal tar
Salvation now isn't too far.

Drawing new lines with fully loaded rifles
Replacing love with suspicion
And faith with fear
That is why the stars never shine here.

Snaking their ways through a child's mind
Painting faces with worry lines
Quenching innocence with hate
A prolonged itch that never does sate.

Color: Black.
Movie: Munich.

When I pause to reason my life, I lose some reason from it.

2007-10-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

What about a mentally tormented writer? What about him?
Does a writer need to emotionally empty himself to write objectively? Does he need to be devoid of any likes or dislikes whatsoever?
I am still looking for answers. But here is an image that I have seen again and again.
Somewhere near the heart. I don't know where exactly that is present in terms of anatomy. I remember from a past biology class somewhere to the left, and I locate it more accurately but sensing its beats. Growing faster with every minute. A steel claw that so closely resembles a human skeleton. Fluid in motion, it starts picking at the "heart" with surgical dexterity. The pain increases steadily but in a steep graph. Nerve ends spark together and apart pushing at the tolerance limit. My other heart (which one is this again?) pains and blood of a different kind seeps out. A white shiny liquid - clear and fragrant. I suddenly think if unicorn blood. And that's the last thought.

I don't know why this image is a Robin Cook/Sci-fi/overlapping one. But it is.

Color: A white - shiny and clear.
Song: I can feel the magic floating in the air, being with you makes me that way.
(Why can't I recall anything else about this song)

ogacihc. case insensitive.

2007-10-21T18:26:00.000-07:00

I am not geography expert or for that matter a good judge of anything. I am opinionated though, not to a bothersome extent, but a just a little. An opinionated person makes a good source of writing material.

Chicago is a beautiful city. Similar and different to New York in many ways. The endless skylines in NY are breathtaking when you first see them, but they tire you with their monotonicity soon. Chicago is different, the sky lines are punctuated here and there with quaint shops, archaic buildings and my favorite rivers that run below Chicago's roads. I cannot be completely sure, but Chicago is a city walking through which will probably never tire me because there is a beauty gradient. My favorite still remains Harbor Road. But Chicago is definitely more charming than New York. It is probably just as charming as DC, but doesn't have as much character as DC does.

And since someone once asked me to try writing in Tamizh, I am trying.

En kanneer un mazhaiyaagum, en karangal un kudaiyaagum.
Un iru kangal en suryanai thondra, un sirippu en velichamaagum.
Ariyamayil nee ennai sutri varuvathu pol enakku thondriyadhu
Oru kanam nindru paarthien, sutruvadhu naan endru manam unariyadhu.

Color: Tan
Song: Laaga chunari mein daag

Happier times.

2007-10-10T12:39:00.001-07:00

If you write a letter with your wishes in it, with all your secret crazy whims put in, who would you send it to? Is there anyone you can send it to without them laughing at it? Is there anyone who you can send it to who would take it to heart and set about fulfilling them? How much of that letter would you let your "best friend" read?
I don't have an answer to most of those questions. But what I do know the answer to is if I would let a complete stranger read it.

We'll see a happier day and a brighter sun will shine then
The rain is just here to wash away the dirt off leaves
And the clouds to shadow us from miseries beyond
Our hope is our weapon and we'll wield it free.

To Vinda, Deepi, me and a happier time.

COLOR: Mazda burgundy
SONG: Hey there Delilah (Plain white tees)

Emotional Insurance.

2007-09-26T15:12:00.000-07:00

I am sorry if I have accused you of not being there.
I am sorry if I have not told you often enough how thankful I am for your existance.
I am sorry if I have not appreciated your presence.
I am sorry if I have tested your patience by being quiet when I should have said something.
I am sorry if I was away celebrating my victories when I should have been nursing your wounds.
I am sorry if I ever said I am busy when I was actually not.
I am sorry if I expected you to be understanding when I was not.
I am sorry if I ruined your plans by inviting myself over when I needed to.
I am sorry if I ever took advantage of your selflessness.
I am sorry if I was inconsiderate and frank at the wrong moments.
I am sorry if I ever made you feel less loved.

How much you mean to me is unfathomable.

COLOR: Pink (REALLY :O)
SONG: If I lie here (Snow Patrol)

If every word I said could make you laugh, I'd talk forever.

2007-09-20T12:59:00.000-07:00

And there's no mountain too high
No river too wide
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side.
Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide.
But I'll love you, until the end of time.
Come what may.

I will let a hundred knives through my thankless self, if it meant I could run my fingers through your hair one more time.
I will drink as much poison as the seas, if it meant I could breathe my last in your wake.
I will die a thousand deaths if I must, if it meant to spend a fraction of my life with you.

For those few words of care,
For those few minutes of love,
For those endless dreams that you make me dream,
For the hopes that you foster
For the wounds you have mended
I'd go through any hell any number of times.

SONG: O Saathi re (Omkara)
COLOR: Sunshine yellow

Pyar mein dil pe maar le goli le le meri jaan.

2007-09-03T08:58:00.001-07:00

I wish that this world may contain only things that make you happy.
I wish I were the only one who could cause you pain, because I never will, and even if I do, then its easier to shoot myself down.
I wish our silences to be meaningful.
I wish I could hear your heartbeat no matter how far I am from you because it is my favorite sound in the world.
I wish I wake up to a smile on your face every morning rather than the sun's.
I wish geography had no significance in our lives.

But the truth is,

My world has only things that pain you.
I am not brave enough to shoot myself down. Or anyone else.
Our silences only showcase our ego.
Yelling is all I hear.
It's like the sun goes down on me every morning.
Every millimeter seems to stretch forever.

One last wish is to stop turning my blog into my personal diary.
One last truth is that if I did that, then I would currently have nothing to put in my blog.

COLOR: Algae green
MUSIC: Junoon

Any cheesy title.

2007-09-01T03:16:00.000-07:00

That is what this post should have. A cheesy title. I didn't put one myself because there were too many winners.

Every time I hit a cranky note, I try to think if things have been worse than this. If they have been, then I needn't worry because I have been through that kind of hell and back. If it is an all time low, then it probably means that time has come to stretch my limits and tread thinner ice and walk hotter embers. Time has come to become stronger.

He who doesn't leave old lands shall never see new shores.

At nearly the end of a month long vacation in India, I honestly thought I would feel very different from the way I am right now. Maybe because I still keep seeing people the way I saw them a year back, but they have changed shades. Friends, family and even foes have changed. Some smiles have become artificial, some others shine more genuinely than ever. Some are unexpectedly pleasant and some others are painful reminders of what geographical distance has done.

The sun still shines yellow
The grass is still green
It is people who've changed color
And its not gone unseen.
Some wounds have healed
Some old ones revisited
A few new gashes have cut
And necrosed ones mourned.
The water is still blue
Laughter still is music
The change is only in you
The rest is all a trick.

I am not sure if this will make sense to me ten days later. But it does not. Maybe because I am painting from a palette of emotions and not writing on clean slate.

COLOR: Mint green
SONG Beetein lamhe (TRAIN)

Thought of/after/in a month?

2007-08-26T02:26:00.001-07:00

I have denied myself the pleasure of writing for over one cycle of the moon now. And I say I have "denied" it to myself because there were thoughts that were itching to be penned but then I contained them. For no particular reason. Or so I like to say.

Guruvayoor.

So much like and unlike Kumbakonam. There is that fervent bhakti. Just like in Kumbakonam. But it is quiet. Not violent and loud like in K. Calming, soothing, brings about a certain internal peace. As if to say, if anything goes wrong, let it, it will be taken care of. It is My bidding that they go wrong. In Kumbakonam, there is a certain rage, a certain fear of God, not in agreement with Him. Aakrosham is the word.

In Thirupathi, its a different kind. There is a certain jest and zest. People come there in good humor, at least I did. Smiling faces, bald heads - impossible to tell people apart. The same bhakti, in three different flavors. Just like the different flavors of friendship that people have had me taste in the past month or so. I wouldn't say I liked all of them, but they were interesting nonetheless.

"... a great suppurating wound, a jagged gape of flesh.."

(Just to remind me about what all I should write in my next post. Which will be a while from now)

COLOR: Maize yellow.
MUSIC: Barso re megha (Guru)

They know not life who know not this.

2007-07-24T12:14:00.001-07:00

As much as the creator didn’t intend it to happen, the downfall of relationships is inevitable and can cause more damage than any wand wielded by any wizard of any caliber. I see men, so hopeless in their lust for their own obsessions. So vain, conspiring and conniving to achieve their ambitions that they throw aside people and things that could be more worthy achievements and ambitions than the ones they pursue. How these men shall never even realize what fools they have been magnifies their foolishness all the more. I stand outside the frames that bind these pictures to walls of perceived emotions and laugh haughtily at their ignorance. It was the bliss proffered with that ignorance and innocence that tempted me into painting myself into those pictures. Then knowledge and its acceptance nudged themselves in with time. Some call it resigning, some resentment and some more detachment. But unless you stand where I do, see what I see, think what I think and be who I am, it is absolutely impossible to understand. As I type this, some famous smells come and go in my memory – people as I had remembered by their smells, their odors, the chemicals that their bodies exuded uniquely. I feel almost like a fox sans the light-footedness.

I see the world as it is has presented itself to me and I try not to make a generalization. I make an honest effort to not group people under umbrellas of opinions and judgment. But as I said, I write them as they have presented themselves to me. Creatures who are interested primarily in their affairs and more so, who are consciously willing to scar others who sometimes willingly present themselves to be beguiled. I am not going to wear a halo and will admit that I have been involved in instances where I ’presented’ myself on either side of the argument.

I am visiting the only true friends there are – in books and fairy tales. There is no trustworthy person. There is no one who would go all out for anyone. No one is selfless and certainly not considerate.

The world is a tricky place to live in for those who believe in friendship, true or otherwise. And its simply hell for those who don’t.

COLOR: Midnight blue (for a reason)
SONG: Na jaane kabse ummeedein kuch baaki hai (Jal)

What you don't know cannot hurt you.

2007-07-19T10:45:00.001-07:00

Whoever said that sure thought it through a lot. It is one of the patronizing statements that people make when they don't want you to know something that you obviously should know. I am not writing this because I am outraged that people don't tell me things that rightfully belong in my head, but because I am not telling people what rightfully should be in theirs. And this is not a confession, since a confession can be made only when the victim knows not, and boy, do my victims know.
I have taken a liking to being alone these days. Maybe I am growing up or maybe I am just finding new interests. I want to get back to art. I still remember the one vacation in Delhi that I spent making two paintings, there were brushes, tubes of paint, varnish, gold powder, cotton swabs, isographs, stained newspapers strewn all over the living room. It was only because the paintings looked rather good that my mother didn't complain about the mess I was making. These days, my room looks too clean - it needs some color. I think I might paint something after coming back from India. Another thing I have fallen into is procrastination. I try to postpone everything - I really mean EVERYTHING. From running a gel to using the restroom. I always have some thoughts that I chew cud over.

Some thoughts that have dwelt in my mind recently,

- If you want me to apologize, you must be ready to accept it and not counter it with something like "you don't mean that".
- If I am not telling you something, it is because I don't want you to know it. Its plain and simple.
- If we all just let people around us do what they want, then no one would be happy.

COLOR: The green in those neon lights
SONG: You're too good to be true (Four Seasons)

Pushed to page two.

2007-07-07T23:52:00.000-07:00

Since I have recently been commended for writing meaningful and (ahem) sensible things in my posts, I will try to keep the trend. But I am not going to promise. As I always say, an angry man cannot write - he can only vent. I am not sure if what I am feeling right now is anger, but for lack of a better word I'll call it that.

New flowers bloom and fill the air with their freshness
As old ones dry away in between pages of books
Memories come together in oneness
And the water is deeper than it looks.

It might seem like irrelevance to someone who doesn't know me and pure bullshit to those who do. Its your call.

COLOR: A light purplish pink
SONG: Unna vida (Virumandi)

Twice a day :O

2007-07-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

This is proof that I have grown up .
That I realize that I don't have to throw a tantrum to get what I want. That I can simply get up and get it for myself. I don't need anyone to walk me through my life anymore. I could use some company on the way, but I can live it for myself. I don't need a cage. I don't need my wings snipped. I dislike being controlled and I dislike being a rebel more. So I simply don't pay heed.
I realize that I have knowingly hurt people - and that there are some instances for which I am not even apologetic. I am not sure if this makes me a bad person but I don't have a justification because I have not thought of one. I am not going to think of one either.
I realize that I don't have to be the nicest person in the world. I am allowed to be a little mean - everyone is. I know that because I have been hurt and I am not willing to judge if that was wanton or not.
I realize that when you try to save your pride, then you are letting it fall further in your own eyes.
I realize there are things worse than telling your mom that you made a mistake and now that you realize it you want to move on. She will understand, as always.
I realize that good friends are a rarity and that you musn't count your blessings.
I realize when you have to think really hard to remember the fun you had, then it doesn't count as a memory.
I realize that when you have to sacrifice one thing for another, both things are not worth it.
I realize I can probably never love uninhibitedly as I grow older. Primarily because the more of the world I see, the more I expect and expectations can only ruin things.
I realize that wisdom doesn't have to come with age, but then its okay if it takes time.
I realize that when some of your best efforts go down the drain, then its for a purpose. A part of a bigger plan and the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle that will eventually fit.
I realize everything doesn't have to be reciprocated. Your camera can choose not to like you.
I realize when I sleep over things, then they always seem less poignant in the morning.
I realize how grateful I am for those moments when I felt like I've achieved something.
I realize the importance of all this knowledge when I am in doubt, and more so when I am sure.

I have grown up. I would have given you a big hug if you were here now. But its good that you aren't - else, I would have never grown up.

Exploding skies.

2007-07-05T11:31:00.000-07:00

Thats what I saw last night. The sky exploding with lights and sounds in colors that seemed so new to my 22 year old brain. Golden showers and sparkles, grandeur and money all being recklessly (but splendidly) spent to celebrate July the fourth. I don't know why Independence day is such a big deal in the States, they weren't even a colony. They didn't have to fight for it nor did they have to struggle to be heard on the international platform. But you don't have to sell patriotism to the Americans, they show it in everything they own. Cars, houses, streets, napkins - everywhere. The blue, white and red colors are so common if you start *observing*. When I first started noticing, it was on CinchSak garbage bags. Then the Pepsi label. Samuel Adams. America's choice, Pathmark - they are everywhere.
I wonder if Indians are equally patriotic (if this is patriotism to begin with) and just don't show it. I know I am more Indian than ever when I am in the States. But is that a common sentiment?

COLOR: Blue, white and red.
SONG: God Bless America

Why and why not.

2007-06-28T07:39:00.000-07:00

It was first a status message on Google talk. Gtalk status messages according to me are very significant. I would never put something there unless I was sure that I am okay with everyone I know reading it. My recent lines include

- Usually I am a nice person. Today I am just being Deepika.
- American friendships are different from Indian ones - Why and why not?
- Blackford is the place where CSHL serves "food". Today there was nothing vegetarian but for a soup that I risked to taste. And it was by far the most edible thing Blackford has made. But it was very unfortunate that it was called Split Pea soup.

I admit that I haven't known as many people in the States as I did in India. That is a direct result of having spent the larger chunk of my life in the latter country (oh what a crappy line!). So using statistics isn't fair and neither is it going to be valid. I am going to try and stick to facts and logic here. But I may digress from that and venture into a very emotionally sensitive arena. In which case I will get both into trouble and distress.

Friendship in India was a subconscious and tacit commitment. There were different levels of it. Broadly,
- The classmate to who you say hi in the corridors (sometimes).
- The outer fringe of your hangout gang who you might invite to a birthday party.
- The inner core of your hangout gang who you ALWAYS go with.
- The couple of people in that inner core who know your life like they know theirs.

When you are visibly depressed in life, the above people will react in the following ways.
- Whisper to one another in the same corridor as to what could have happened. But try to smile normally.
- Have a faint idea as to what happened but don't bother prying further.
- Know exactly what is wrong and are trying to fix it.
- Is either the obvious cause or solution to it.

When there is a mild disagreement,
- Bah! I am never smiling at her again ~ grrr.
- Either try using the inner core as a mediator to resolve things or just smile at you in the corridors from then onwards.
- A brief argument is followed by the rest laughing their asses off at you.
- Hits you on your head till you agree to what they say.

When there is a severe disagreement,
- This person's hangout group starts collectively disliking you.
- Begins to pretend that you never existed.
- A 2 day silence followed by forcible and successful patching up executed by the others.
- Will go tell your mom what a donkey you are and then hits on your head till you say sorry.

Depending on how much you talk and how many friends you have, these groups may collapse into lesser numbers. As far as college was concerned, I think being popular was slightly different from having a lot of friends but there were overlaps.

Now for the American bit - I don't know enough Americans to make bold statements as to how they are with one another. But I know enough Indians in America to make bold statements as to how we are with one another. The interesting feature is that while it was easy to make distinctions in India, it is dodgy here. Very very dodgy.
When you are on the streets in NY and you see an Indian, there are two things that can happen - either they will recognize you as someone from India and smile, else they will pretend you are from another planet and walk by with a determinedly bored look.
When you are in a work place, there is the extremely helpful Indian colleague or the determinedly avoiding Indian. It is normal desi tendency to try and make desi friends. Its not that we refuse to socialize with the others, but its just that the "wavelengths" never match. And in the definite event that we make friends with our countrymen, then there are just two simple kinds - the ones who know your life like they know theirs and the ones who are as superficial as dead skin.
(This is the emotionally sensitive arena that I was talking about, and its best I don't step in here).
As for why and why not - I think why we sometimes ignore other Indians is because the reason some of us got here was to get away from "them" and "they" followed us here. And why we sometimes don't is because no matter how hard some of us try to shed off the desipanti in us, it creeps back right on and nudges us to civilize with our ilk. But in all this ruckus there are some paaavam jantus that try to recreate the exact Indian friendship thing - smiles at Indians and is the epitome of friendly Indian colleague - but eventually just end up writing blog notes about their understanding of it.

COLOR: Butterscotch
SONG: New York nagaram (ARR)

Replacement therapy.

2007-06-22T07:04:00.000-07:00

It is a very bad idea to be replaceable or have irreplaceable things in life.
It is a crappy, lousy, foolish and extremely dumb deepikaish idea.

And thats all I have to say about that.

COLOR: Black
SONG: Sheeshe ke gharon mein

Taxi driver in Calcutta!

2007-06-18T12:19:00.001-07:00

Living on a farmhouse sounds so cool - and it is to a large extent. Huge fields, amazing sunrises and sunsets, being able to see the sky and stars its NY, sky can be only seen when next to scraper), crickets putting you to sleep, trees yawning out at you in the backyard, barbecues - whoa! Its a long list.
(If you sensed a 'but' at the end of that sentence, you are soooo right).

I have been at Uplands farm for about 3 weeks now. And I still am not tired of the quiet or the comparative desolation of the place. I like walking through the woods and since its bright almost until 9 in the night, with a maize-flavored breeze advertising the goodness of it, I am turning down ride offers from friends (and foes). But when I have to travel for longer distances, I call a taxi and when I do this, I am as excited about it as a kid is about a new bike.

Taxi drivers are about the most interesting people you can talk to. They know their way around and have seen more of the world, not only because they travel around, but because they see more new people in a day than I do in a month. They have seen every emotion there is on this planet, yet are sometimes naive and believe what their passengers tell them. Keeping in mind the universality issue, this is the same feeling I get with the few friendly auto-drivers in Bangalore. I think when you have to drive around town all day, having a grumpy personality is a sure downside. If I think really hard, I bet I can recall the name of every cab driver who has driven me in NY and the conversation I have had with them. I have never met a one 'quiet' driver. Or maybe its me. The most recent one was Greg. He is trying to finish his bachelors in Communications with a minor in American History at SUNY Westbury. He was arguably the most knowledgeable of all the ones I know. Not because of he was in college, but because he put his pending degree in communications to full use. He asked me a zillion questions about India that I am always so ready to answer and told me that he was German (BTW Jyotsy, I am still vouching for German men). He was black. I don't quite have such a problem with that word considering the fact that I am 'black' too. And he told me a something that he thought about the word when he was a child. He had a white German uncle and Greg apparently never understood what the fuss was with the skin color.
"I thought that he was just a really really light skinned black guy. Until I grew up and the differences began to enunciate themselves."
I really liked that line - something I will try to use in a conversation in future. It was a long drive, from Hempstead to Cold Spring Harbor - and arguably one of the most memorable.

COLOR: Peacock blue
SONG: Tere aankhon ke siva

An Arrow.

2007-06-15T14:16:00.000-07:00

Why the word universe? Why?
Its not universe. Its as diverse as it can get. There isn't one language. There isn't one color. I know in saying this I am geographically limiting us to this earth, but yet, I see nothing "universal" about the universe unless I make some gross generalizations. I amn't a generalization kind of a person. In fact, I hate them. Its one thing to call two similar things similar. But pulling in a third thing and forcibly similarizing it is plain cowkakka. But I am not going to dismiss this entire thing with a 5 line glance. I am going to dedicate some space to seeing what is it that is similar in all of us and I will try making the least possible amount of generalizations. And this is sincere attempt to justify the person who called it the 'universe'.

Languages - I can go on and on and on about it. But I think I'll try symbolism for once.
The Arrow.

What a simple, elegant and yet powerful symbol. I think there isn't one place in the planet I can think of that doesn't know what it is. Maybe some remote village in India. But then, they're somehow always not a part of the regular universe (See Swades for more information) and I am going to let it be that way. An assumption in mathematics, approximating it to zero. It can be giving directions, it can be on top of a letter indicating that its a vector, it can indicated the proceedings in a chemical reaction, it can be used to denote lineage - just about every scientific and social realm uses it. Splendid.

Arrowhead.

COLOR: Off-white
SONG: Milky way (MLTR)

Ulaalaalaalaa oleyo! Ulalalalala leyo!

2007-06-14T15:18:00.001-07:00

Ad jingles and ads themselves. After all the heavy stuff that I usually write, it came to me as a relief that I can still write feather stuff.
That Kingfisher jingle evokes so many memories. The earliest one being meeting Dravid in the lounge of a restaurant when this was playing in the background. Then singing it on Laksh's bday. When we won DC. And more recently, when Anand anna went to Puerto Rico :)

Ad jingles are different from regular music. People who create jingles are usually much more creative, less redundant and moreover they can achieve a memory feat with the amnesic also. In the sense, that a good ad jingle must make you think of the product immediately. The idea behind this is that the more you think of the product, the ad jingle will coax you to buy it. It is a strategy that is cleverly based upon human shortcomings in self-control. The Kingfisher ad jingle is probably the best one created in history. Even in the most sophisticated restaurant, go to the restroom and sing ~ Ulaalaalaalaa oleyo! - and 80% of the times someone will think out loud ~ Ulalalalala layo! - almost instantly. It makes you think of a swimming pool and cold water (or beer) immediately.
The quality of Indian ads these days is so pathetic. There is rarely, if ever, a good one. American ones are worse than the Indian ones. Most American ads are only about proving that they are better than their competitor, its never about creativity or making an impact. I haven't seen Indian TV for almost a year now, but in the ones that used to be showing - I liked Coke ads better than Sprite (Pepsi is just real crappy, Fanta is okay, Mirinda is cool), Hutch was good but Airtel caught up and got better (ARR ROCKS!!!), the Anti-smoke campaign with Urmila et al was good, bike ads were total waste wonly and car ads were no better (Maruti had one with a cute Punjabi kid that was nice) and there was this one Greenply ad that I remember distinctly about a kid who starts speaking Tamil that I loved.
I had a friend, Sharu, who used to always wonder how it would be if we had a channel that only showed ads all day. She would like that. I am not sure I would, not in NY atleast.

Since all I have been doing is humming the Ulalalalala layo!, I don't have a poem. But there is a song that I recently came across. I really liked its picturization in Moulin Rouge ~ nice notes and lyrics.

Never knew I could feel like this
Like I've never seen the sky before
Want to vanish inside your kiss
Every day I love you more and more
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings
Come back to me, and forgive everything
Seasons may change, winter to spring
But I love you until the end of time

Come what may
I will love you until my dying day

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste
It all revolves around you
And there's no mountain too high
No river too wide
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side
Storm clouds may gather
And stars may collide
But I love you until the end of time.

COLOR: Cherry Red
SONG: Come what may (Moulin Rouge)

Mazal Tov

2007-06-09T10:40:00.000-07:00

Language. I have written and thought about this so many times before but I always feel I haven't expressed what is REALLY on my mind adequately or with real quality. This post is going to be yet another futile attempt.
Mazal Tov. That is Hebrew for good luck. A Jewish classmate taught me that expression. I really took a shine to it and have been dying to use it in some context but haven't found a suitable debut for it yet. There is such a nice ring to it when I say it to myself. Mazal Tov! And when he said that to me, there was a certain warmth in it. Maybe because he expressed it in his native tongue that it sounded so personal and heartfelt. But how can such a foreign noise evoke so much thought in me? Its the same feeling I get when listening to Turkish music- the lyrics are so powerful. I don't know what they mean but I somehow know it is about love and betrayal, and similar emotions. This amazing blend of phonetics and ISPs awes me so.

This bridge you built won't stand long
It will collapse to a heap of pain
You used your strength to make it strong
But their hate made it all in vain
This bridge has its recipe all wrong
Break it before you go insane.

It must have stood on love and trust,
But it stood on want and need
Hold it up if you must,
But they'll bring it down with greed
It will all be blown to ashes and dust
Upon which will grow no seed.

Don't you cry, weary wanderer
You just have to walk some more
For sometime, be a launder
And wash off all those sores
Learn to look not back but yonder
And your mind is no one's whore.

This is the first time I am using a slight obscenity in my writing.
And it fits as beautifully as a joey in a roo.

COLOR: That of DMEM
SONG: Aao huzoor tumko (Karunesh)

ERISED.

2007-06-08T11:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks to J.K.Rowling for that word (or the contortion of the original one).
After the credits have been given, now the time is to tip over the mess on to the warm blood. I really have no clue how I came up with that. But the more I think of it, the more I think that I am indeed marinating thoughts in warm blood.
The post.
When I was in India, I used to always crib about not being offered a choice. A choice of courses. Of not having to attend huge family parties where I know no one. Of going where I want to and being who I want to be with. A choice of being who I want to be professionally. An endless list follows. I think this is what gave rise to the 'American dream'.
CHOICE is what the States is all about. You have a choice of talking to people or not, and you will not be judged for it. You have a choice of classes. A choice of places to live in. A choice of people (trust me, I have seen enough people in NY to last myself a lifetime in a jungle). EVERYTHING. Every supermarket isle has like a hundred different kind of brands for one product. Every program has a thousand different classes you can take. Everywhere. And people like having so much to pick from. Most of them do for sure.
But I personally wonder if so much choice doesn't confuse them. I know I am. Currently amidst a lot of issues that need me to pick. And its not like peace rules after picking. Then I am wondering and worrying if I made the right choice. And the worse part is, I have known by experience that if the choice is wrong, I find that out in the most painful way, that too after it becomes an irreversible decision.
I am now yearning the Indian dream. For when I was dreaming that, I was just cribbing. The American dream is driving me crazy.
That is the longest ever prologue.

If you had to paint me a color
which one would you do?
If you had to write me in a word,
would the choices be few?
Would paint me blue and free?
Would you call me fancy?

Its the rain. Thats what shrinking my thoughts.
I think I'll write a book.

COLOR: Midnight blue (just thought of someone whose favorite color this is)
SONG: Ashqolmez (Turkish pop thing, I am sure its not spelt that way)

Thick marshy silence.

2007-06-05T20:12:00.000-07:00

And suddenly one day, no one knew why - it all became so quiet. The silence took over so suddenly and sunk in so deep, that no one could prevent it nor deny its presence. It hung about like an aura, repelling all social advances. It built around a flimsy fortress that though many could break with a little effort, no one cared or dared to.
Global freezing. Where there were icy stares, cold words exchanged, chilly howls and cool attitudes. Everything was sub-zero.

Thick as resin it pours all over
And paralyzes thought
Freezes it in disarray
Makes it look like drought.
And from the bog emanates
the stench of solitude
Silence is a temporary analgesic
that allows you to brood.

Just 8 lines again. What is with it?
Oh, Who is John Galt ?!

COLOR: Yellow
SONG: Merke merke (Kanda naal muthal)

Pay Day.

2007-06-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

Some people get lucky. Their luck amazes them, makes them happy and eventually, if their luck is persistent, then they get proud of it. But that pride is false. When you have earned what you have by hard work, then the world and the people around you associate you with the word "deserving". That feeling right there, is pride. True pride. Justified pride.

The first rain after the summer
The first flower after the snow,
They all speak of toil
And that is all I know.
I know not how to speak of my work
I know not how to sell,
I just give it the best I have
And my work speaks for itself.

For some freaking reason (Ya Hari, I will always say that) I cannot seem to emote beyond eight lines. Maybe my next post should be titled, "Eighth line". Well, maybe.

COLOR: Peach
SONG: Poo vaasam purappadum (Anbe Sivam)

Of similes and metaphors.

2007-05-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

Sometime back when I had a really crappy simile for my status ("My mind is like a dissected frog, it can't hide anything even if it wants to" ; BELCH), Satyam adjusted his to a good one - "Grad students are like similes, they can't all be good."
I remember writing about puns and double entendres before, but similes and metaphors are classic turfs. More recently, I read about triple entendres, and realized that my imagination is a mere fraction of the person who wrote all that. All this is in my mind because I am thinking about a few lines I wrote last morning (last morning?? Is that formation correct??)
Love and politics are the same: Promises are made that will be forgotten, it cannot be won without foul play and some point of time, everyone gets sick of it.

Of all the things to write about in this world, I think love is the easiest. Most people understand it and have an opinion about it. All my thoughts are coming out in a disjunct fashion because I am not thinking continuously. In fact, I am thinking very rarely.

Glory has been deceived
Blood has been shed
Valor still screams out
And the enemy has fled.
Sharpened minds and knives
Connive to kill honesty
Fanged tongues and poisoned hearts
Claim it to be amnesty.

COLOR: Olive Green
SONG: Ethanai kodi inbam vaithai iraiva (Bombay Jayshree)

If you think this is the worst, just you wait!

2007-05-17T10:49:00.000-07:00

Everytime life throws something at me that I cannot handle alone, all help is withdrawn and suddenly its a test. To see how well I can manage. Sometimes I emerge from the quicksand successfully, but mostly there is just me flailing in the quagmire while onlookers can just wish they could do something.
The thing is I cannot be helped. I need to heal myself. I need to fight my own battles. I wish Ma could just be there to watch me, her very presence would energize me. Just to know that if I fell, someone would cry and rush to lift me up.

At my doorstep there stands a boy
Alone and asking to be adopted
And since with him he brings only despair
I hence name him disappointment.

He smiles at all my efforts
And laughs at all my failures
He wails when I pay him no heed
And finds his way back no matter where I leave him.

COLOR: A turquoise that isn't blue enough
SONG: Tu kaun hai (Lucky Ali)

The Axes.

2007-04-21T20:34:00.000-07:00

One of the favorite things that my dad told me is that "The world revolves around two axes - Gravity and Love." Oh how I wish he were wrong, but I know he is not.

When it gets to you
And eats you from within
When it scavenges all the logic
And it makes you sin.
Its where gravity seems to come from
And the axis of your world
The sunlight that makes you squint
And the darkness so absurd.
Its all that you want
Its your past and now
Its all you wish you didn't have,
Its also called LOVE.

COLOR: A violent orange.
SONG: Tera jadoo chal gaya (How appropriate)

The Lovechild dies.

2007-04-09T22:10:00.000-07:00

Grammar. What would the language be without it? How would we make sentences? How would we make sense?
I know I am just reiterating facts here. But thats the safest way to go when you are in extreme emotion. I keep turning my blog into my diary. I try not to write when I am at my limit, but it is an inevitable form of expression. But I am going to refrain from writing a poem and butchering this space any further. I hope the next time I come back here, it is with a calm, composed mind that has write-worthy thoughts in them.

COLOR: Black
SONG: Why should I care (Avril Lavigne)

Purple feathers.

2007-04-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

Every scientist has one other thing on his mind. By other, I mean other than science. Ben has ice hockey. Nick has cricket. Linda has smoking. Watson is crazy. Stillman has politics. Bruce has wives. Everyone has something else. For me, its my blog. I keep procrastinating writing down the lines in my head. They're like SDS gels - if not blotted onto blogs soon enough, they'll diffuse away into the buffer and be lost as an unknown ion forever. I don't know whether me writing so electrophorically has anything to do with the fact that I have had time to think of little else than work. I don't think many people in the scientific community blog, so my thoughts rest to be interpreted.

Give it a name

I've trodden that path before
The one in front of you now
Soon you'll turn your back to it
But don't ask me how.

The person I thought was you
Turned out to be a mirror
Although you are just a reflection
Your presence is much more clear.

If you were me
And I were you
Would it all then be false
All that's now true?

So what is it called?
And who do I blame?
It's a little more than love
Just give it a name.

COLOR: That of those ridiculous feathers sitting on my desk that belong to Jen
SONG: Baby drive my car.

Tolerance.

2007-03-31T19:52:00.000-07:00

That spike of anger.
That spears up your system and wants to jump out of your throat. That right there, is what takes your tolerance away from you. That which gives you a big big writer's block.
Only a calm person can write good literature. An angry man can just "vent" his feelings. He cannot write. He cannot create. He cannot imagine. He can just vent.

Let me look into your mind
Let me walk through that maze
Let me see whats inside
and why you are in such a daze.
Let me feel your anger
Let me prick your pain
Let me love that love
that makes me go insane.
And when I am in there
Let me make new wounds
Let me wreck your peace
that you have so carefully pruned.
And on my way out
I'll tumble down some dreams
I'll break open some seals
I'll rip apart some seams
Just to let you know how it feels.

I want to vomit all over you right now.

beats me.

2007-03-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Churning out thoughts helps me forget hunger. And somehow improves the quality of my writing. Though what I need right now are carbs, I will suffice with words. I imagine myself to be a hungry albeit splendid author, whose writings no one wills to read until his death. Almost all of that is true, and I leave it to guessing as to which part isn't.
At one point of time, idealism plagued my mind. And then reality hit me. Now I am just indifferent. If you just live your life the way you want to, without bothering anyone else, no one will ask you questions - atleast not in the States. I am happy that America is America and that India will always be India. I like the indifference here, but I love my sense of familiarity there.

Differences.

We may not speak the same tongue
We may not be from one land
But still we sing the same song
For the same thing we both long
We fish in different waters
But fish for the same fish
We have different sorrows
But for the same laughter we both wish
Different are our colors
Different are our ways
Different as they maybe,
To the same God we will pray.

Color: Burgundy
Song: En mel vizhunda mazhai thuliyei.

Oh don't ask why, oh don't ask why!

2007-03-24T10:51:00.000-07:00

I am on the verge of starting to write crappy blogs. That are mostly "feelings" that resemble cheesy TV sentiments. I want to write better than I did last time. But it is very hard where there are a billion "cheesy TV sentiments" that are eating your head.

I raise my thoughts, pure as milk
And the world curdles it all,
I wish all people of were one ilk
And all by one name I can call.
I strive to be someone someday
And I act the way they do,
But I can't then listen to what I say
For to myself, I'm not true.
Though of very different plume
All birds do fly,
Then why for must I assume
I am someone else and try?
My logic right it may seem
But from logic, this does wean,
Someone lives the dreams that I dream
Someone makes me be unseen.

Color: Maroon
Song: Flowers on the window, TRAVIS.

Colorless dreams fighting furiously.

2007-03-20T21:42:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I already have a post with that title, but I like it for some reason. Not blogging for a week is like fizzing up a 2 liter bottle of ginger ale and leaving the cap slightly unscrewed. So that there is a little leak, but not enough to combat the pressure.
That sentence has so many layers in it. If I explained everything, then I would sound like someone who overanalyzes and tries to make too much of things. But it is true that I was slightly unscrewed and didn't have enough to combat the pressure :).

Tere sangh jeevan ki dor bandhi hai.
This is something that should have been written in verse, but I like it in prose better.

Blind to the obvious, can't hear the wind in my ears. My mind is shut and sealed; all the liquid thoughts bobbing in it, caulked from the caustic world. All the volatile thoughts push against the walls giving me a pain I can't quite verbalize. It makes me laugh out loud while crying louder still on the inside. It makes me want to thank God that I am not mad yet, but yet begrudge him for not making me deaf. It makes me want to throw stones fiercely in serene waters, and wish I were a stone myself. It makes me want to slap myself for being who I am, but also hug myself and say it's all okay.

Color: The color of LB
Song: Ninaithu ninaithu (KK)

Half my sky.

2007-03-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

Hello

It is a strange way to start a post, saying hello. But I am very intrigued by a vagary of things right now, and my blog is playing the role of my daily memoir.
It is easier to misunderstand people rather than understand them, and life has taught me this lesson from the wrong side of the desk. I used to yell and scream and ask to be understood, but now I just laugh quietly. And I have come to realize that it doesn't matter. Some close associates have demonstrated this in their own unique ways, but all within a week. Close associates. Why don't I call them friends??? I wish I had the explanation. I could use the cliched wavelength funda, but then thats what it is - cliched.
I meet people who don't care enough about who, but more about what and how. And I have met those who care about who, what and how. And then those who are all about the who. The last category is sometimes mistaken to be obsessed, in love, romantic or caring. I think its unadulterated bullshit. I think if its about the who, then you should let who have his (could be her too, but for lack of a common pronoun in English) life. What sense it makes to curb someone from doing things you don't like? Doesn't it defy the very 'unwritten law of love' (which by the way is to love someone for "who they are", which then again is debatable)?

Friendship is to share your sky.
Trust is to show your night sky.
Honesty is to claim over only your sky.
Peace is when everyone has the same sky.
And love is to give someone shelter in your heart, not taking their sky away.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'll be the villain
If it makes you all heroes,
After all to make a million,
You do need half a dozen zeros.

Still Intrigued,
Deepu.

As you reap, so you sow.

2007-03-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

It all comes out so effortlessly. So smoothly like it knows where to go. And it slides in there and stays. From there it spews noxious thoughts. Thoughts that diffuse to more places than my mind and make new nodes and spread like malign cancer. I am an extremely upset biologist now.
The seven deadly sins need some rewriting in the new world.
#1: Lust - Love/Desire of a sexual nature.
#2: Gluttony - Love and hence overindulgence of food.
#3: Greed - Desire/Love of too much.
#4: Sloth- Love of doing nothing.
#5: Wrath - Love of anger.
#6: Envy - Love of another's possessions.
#7: Pride - Love of self.

It doesn't require a super alignment program to figure out that each sin arises from the love of something or the other. So indeed there is just one deadly generic sin - LOVE.

Is it me? Is it you?
Why have things morphed?
why do I see black
where white was before.
No matter how hard I look
I can't see the colors.
I squint, I stare
I play truth or dare
but it refuses to show
I tease, I beg
I stoop down so low
I woo, I plead
But the colors don't pay heed.
They say the sun has risen
and its day time now
But i still see darkness
for as you reap, so you sow.

Color: a sad purple. Mauve, if you must.
Song: Tanha Tanha, Rangeela.

The ulterior design.

2007-03-08T13:49:00.000-08:00

There is monotony in the graph until certain limits, then some thing comes to life. And it changes everything. Life revolves around it. Life is synonymous with it. Everything is arranged so that it syncs with it. Its amazing the coordination that we orchestrate when we want to. Like a whirlpool with a center of its own, hurling away things that don't fit in, drawing in things that can revolve around its center. I suck at making similes.

This one time, since my imagination has run out of ink, I will plagiarize, but give credit of course.

Full many a gem, of purest ray serene
the dark unfathomed caves of ocear bear.
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
to waste its sweetness over the desert air.

Rit and Hun.

2007-03-06T10:10:00.000-08:00

A lot of thoughts, some planted, some unwarranted, some trash from my neighbor and a couple of my own. They all play hide and seek in my untended mind. Each trying to find someone else to latch on to. Someone to tag to so that they sound louder. I need an organizer inside my skull now. That alphabetizes, prioritizes and categorizes those rascals and gives me some peace.

Such perfectly timed stones are pelted
Into the puddle of my naive mind
Some naive and some perversion
some honesty and some diversion.
And the evening sun
Leaves behind a murkiness
It dawns upon the stone-thrower
that no one watches anymore
And he dumps them all in one swift motion
A muffled scream shoots out and he frowns
And the blackness plays ally to him
Thats how the puddle of thoughts drowned.

Habit.

2007-03-05T21:21:00.000-08:00

When you force something into your life for a while, pretty soon it becomes a habit. Its amazing how that works. And sometimes even when you were initially averse to it. The mind is an amazing feat.
Plagiarism. Plucking lines from someone who thinks just like you, but emotes much better. It is justified if the thoughts are the same. My water, your tap.
Double entendres. They're a class of hilarious albeit slightly vulgar English usages. Though some obvious ones show up in regular conversations, it takes a clever person to make a REAL one. They're more difficult than puns to frame, more subtle when it comes to their interpretation and definitely require a better command of the language. I lack all three.

Shards of glass screaming by
spear their way through.
A bubble swells, rises
Bursts, spatters blood on the walls.
Quenches the parched land
And stains the thoughts.
Blind rabbits playing under jaundiced skies,
Happiness saved as drafts for later
love sent into exile.
No artist wills to paint this frame
no God wills to give this a name
Only my starved imagination feasts
To feed you reading beasts.

T(r)apped.

2007-03-04T10:20:00.000-08:00

Kanda naal muthalai kaadal perugudadi.

I don't know how much love a human heart can hold, give and receive in all. I am not sure if it is even quantifiable. I am sure there are a lot of people who are loved like crazy and appreciate it. And then there are those who are unaware of it. And then those who wait in the hope that such crazy love will be bestowed upon them someday. Finally those, who fool themselves that they are indeed bestowed with it, if not for anything else, just to keep face. I don't think they are ridiculous, for who doesn't want to be important to someone??

Tickled with a thought, I brace myself for a sneeze.
Pricked with hate, I shrivel into my shell.
Much easier it is, to pretend than to ask,
For love I mean.
You can't blame Punxsutawney for seeing his shadow
Who doesn't want spring after a long winter?
Who doesn't want to smell the fresh breeze?
Who wont for love, their pride sell?
Who can, true love, truly mask?
For the air so clean
For the seeds of time that you sow
All the hate will simmer and sinter
And then one day you will know,
That I loved you with my heart and soul
With all the love in the world and more.

Pu(T)rify.

2007-03-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

You know how sometimes, there is so much happening around you. And you can't control it. So you just let it all be, and stand back and watch? This is one of those.

A piece of the moon lies on the floor,
Unnoticed, wanted no more.
Outlined in speckles of stray light,
But with the sun, it can't fight.

I don't think I have it in me to complete those lines. Its all inside my head. I wish it would just go. I wish it would.